This Wall Will Fall Once

Elizabel stood against the wall, deep in the Barrow Dens, taking in the humid air. Her eyes concentrated on Xaneria's body as the sun fell and the moon rose far from their perceptions. What day it was and how many days had passed were irrelevant and had no affect on her position. Watching the sleeping druid closely, Elizabel's eyes closed, taking a moment of rest.

The darkness of a pointless dream filled Elizabel's head. Silence, emptiness and darkness; being aware of such things seemed strangely abnormal. Yet the voice that called to her was desperate and anxious. Elizabel lifted her head within the darkness hearing the soft, familiar voice calling to her. As her head raised, light broke past the darkness and with a jolt, brought her sight into focus.

Directly infront of the warriors line of sight was a single flickering torch. Elizabel raised a hand to her head, then glanced back at the sleeping bodies, looking around the cave. Neyeeva rested against the wall, her knees to her face, her eyes closed as if sleeping. Ailac and Xaneria lay on the ground, between them, a jade colored idol that pulsed with a heavy power, supressing darkness in their radius. The warrior adjusted her hip weapons and shifted her weight on the wall, crossing her arms once more and letting her eyes close, a word crossed her mind without thought.

Mine.

Such a possessive word. Elizabel glanced up, back at the bodies. A small squirrel shaped robot began circling them, making strange noises. Beeps, vibrations, pulses and the occasional click and change of gears. Elizabel knew these sounds well enough, thanks to her aquaintences, Perisanya being no acception. Leaving this contraption with them, what was the real purpose rather than be annoying. The silence constantly being broken by its harsh and sharp clicks and reverberations, in this small, confined place, it annoyed the warrior a little. The thought of smashing the machine crossed her mind more than once.

Peenuts. The immature, childish name given to the robot; while it was a toy for the most part, there was no doubt the paladin had more in it than just some whimsical plaything. It was doing a task, examining the situation and processing data. Elizabel was slightly curious about the real purpose it was left behind, yet the annoying noises breaking the long drawn moments of quiet grated on the warrior's nerves.

That damn-

A red light flashed in the corner of Elizabel's perifial vision. Peenut's eyes swirled with red flashing lights. The machine made its way to the door, a small voice being heard from the machine for the first time. The robotic voice blended with the clicking and shifting of grinding metal in the machine as Peenut's head tilted to one side.

"Area scan initiated. Scouting."

Elizabel raised a brow as she watched the creature scurry up the den pathway, frowing. Neyeeva lifted her head and cocked her own brow at the strange item.

"What's got into that thing?" Elizabel questioned in a detatched manner. Neyeeva shrugged, finding such a thing severly out of her reach of understanding. Both women let out a soft sigh.

Faintly, a buzzing noise started to grow from the corridor, the sound of Peenuts making its way back down into the den, as its feet clanged on the dirt, seemed to echo. As the tiny creature came into sight, the buzzing noise grew louder, the sound of a small but weak alarm on the machine, its lights still flickering.

"Alert. Scourge entrenchment. Alert." The little machine began to repeat itself over and over as a befouled smell of rotting flesh began to overtake the normal soft and natural morning glory scent.

Elizabel pushed off of the wall and reached her hands to her hips, drawing both short blades, in a swift manner, taking a ready stance. A small smirk crossed her lips as her body began to crouch over, head focused towards the doorway, her legs setting into the dirt floor. Neyeeva raised to her feet quickly, her eyes narrowed and her jaw set as she put a hand to her own blade's hilt.

"Scourge?! Here?!"

"I suppose even the druids get to have fun... guards must not know their job too well." Elizabel grinned.

"Correction." Peenuts methodical manner began to report. "Nighthaven reamins untouched. The target is defined to the Stormrage Barrow Dens. A large anti-magic barrier has been errected over top this cavern, approximately 75 meters in length, running as deep as 1 kilometer into the ground. Scourge ghouls surround the entrances and fill the barrier." The alarm began to fade, as the robot slowly started to shut down, the battery coming to the end of its life.

Elizabel raised a head to the corridor and gritted her teeth. The efficient report from the little machine left a few questions. Ghouls were unable to create such barriers, especially ones of such size and strength. Just what was going on, though it didn't matter, still twinged in the back of Elizabel's mind. However she would not budge. The warrior set herself once more in her position, weapons ready. She could hear the ghouls as they scrapped down the hall.

"Well, aren't we popular then..." Elizabel said jumping back a few steps, closing the distance between her and the sleeping bodies.

A growl bellowed up from Neyeeva's throat, the smell and sounds of the ghoulish fiends making their way upon them was sickening and aggrivating. The rotten stench caused a fire to burn in her eyes as her fangs began to slowly force themselves out, her normal silver eyes suddenly shifting and chaning, taking on a light gold color, her pupils, mere slights in the reflection corneas. The lilac skin of the druid began to darken and emanate fur as the bones and muscles twisted under her skin, growing thick claws and sinking into a panther form. Neyeeva growled under her new form once more.

"Not here!" Her voice trailed behind her as she dashed up the couloir and vanished from sight. Elizabel smirked from her position.

"So she does have a bit of bite to her."

Elizabel passed the moments, keeping up her guard as she listened to the sounds of fighting. Claws tearing into decaying flesh and the tumbling of bodies, teeth gnashing into skin and the crashing of walls. Neyeeva's growls were fierce and full of vigor, hatred and pain. The smell of blood suddenly took and a last heavy breath could be heard gasping from high above the pathway. Silence fell over the room for a single moment, followed by the heavy scent of blood and an overture of ghoulish moans, a true killing intent starting to fill the air, revolting to even Elizabel. The abhorrent creatures dragging their risen corpses into the room.

"Tch..."

Elizabel took a short breath as she looked over the flux of scourge fumbling into the room. The warrior crouched her body further, taking in her surroundings. Right now the bodies rested at the widest part of the room, while the ghouls began to stumble into the narrowist. It was perfect. The best place to stop them was where they now stood. Green light began to flow off the warrior's body, her eyes now glowing as she clutched her weapon hilts tighter. The warrior pushed at her back foot, and threw herself at the ghouls, slashing into their group in a single heavy swing.

Ghouls fell quickly to Elizabel's hand, as if she were cutting through grass. Her motions were fluid, each swing pulling her entire body into the movement, making her next move quick. The never ending flood of ghouls from the corridor aggitated her. She was cutting them down like a trench diverting water, leaving nothing able to move in her wake, yet they kept coming without purpose. Elizabel reset herself on the ground, adjusting her grip on her weapon and slidding her foot behind her, ready to lunge once more.

Cold.

The room suddenly grew bonechillingly cold, sending a shiver down Elizabel's spine. The warrior's eyes raised from her fight, feeling a dark aura, familiar but hateful, blanketed by the icy wind she took in, watching her own breath upon the air. Elizabel twisted her body quickly, throwing a single sword behind her, towards where the bodies rested. The sound of metal clashed before the weapon embedded itself in the wall.

"Ah, that's no way to welcome me."

Elizabel narrowed her eyes for a moment, precautious of the situation. Before her stood a death knight with a similar face, and cold blue eyes. Her armor was enough to frighten most opponets and the goggles rested on her eyes brought forth the lack of seriousness this woman harbored. Elizabel replaced her other short blade to her right hip and took a step forward, the green glow from her body suddenly bursting around her and disentigrating the ghouls surrounding her, a harsh flame racing up the corridor.

"What are you doing here, Chidorie?" The death knight narrowed her eyes and smirked at the question.

"Tying up loose ends."

Slowly, Chidorie raised a hand to her back, drawing her weapon and swinging it without qualm Xaneria, a sick look upon her face from amusement. Metal crushed into metal, deflecting the blow as Elizabel raised up from her postion, now overtop of Xaneria, an arm's length from the death knight.

"Get out!" Elizabel snapped.

Chidorie merely smirked and took her stand, looking over the warrior before her, her large sword drawn and her face meakly angered. Without a word, Chidorie moved forward, dashing Elizabel with her weapon and smashing it down upon the Lionheart blade that dared to block her motions. Her voice was shrill, as she swung again and again, putting all her power into each attack.

"Why let yourself be dragged down by her? Why not rid yourself of her and then come to my side, Aunt."

Elizabel gritted her teeth and threw her weight into her sword, forcing the death knight back. Chidorie's feet hit the floor and began to skid back into the wall, her hand gripping the ground. The area was too small for full force attacks, Chidorie's back hitting the wall. She grinned and lifted a hand to her side, a dark blackness falling to the earth.

"Lets play, my pet." Chidorie's eyes flashed brightly as she seaped the darkness into the ground, a cold and decayed corpse forcing its way from the ground. As it set itself from the dirt, a flash of blackness fortified it. Lifting a single finger, Chidorie sent the ghoul leaping at Elizabel.

The warrior moved infront of Xaneria and Ailac's bodies, blocking the ghoul with her sword, shoving the tip to the ground. Her empty hand reached around and clenched around the ghoul's head, starting to crush it with sheer pressure. Cracking and breaking could be heard as the mindless creature continued to lash forward, little care of its position or inevitable demise.

Chidorie move quickly, dashing past Elizabel. The death knight resheathed her weapon upon her back and moved to the wall as a blade smashed in front of her, embedding itself into the dirt foundation. The death knight lept over the blade's path and reached out to the other sword ground into the wall.

Elizabel moved, pushing back on the ghoul and turning as she prepared to charge Chidorie. Sudden pain pushed over her body as hands from the ground raised up and gripped the warrior's feet, holding her in place. Instantly raged, Elizabel's flames flickered brighter and ignited under her feet searing the floor. The ghoulish creature summoned by Chidorie lefted up and in a single move shoved its hand through Elizabel's armor, just as it too began to vanish in the flames. The warrior doubled over, coughing and darkening her eyes in anger, looking up to Chidorie.

The death knight stood over the druid's body, one hand wielding the stolen blade, the other raising to eye level a dark purple aura lashing out like a whip, gripping Elizabel by the throat and throwing her into the wall. The warrior's anger grew, her eyes glowing brighter still, breaking apart the darkness that bound her. Slowly, she watched, while breaking free as Chidorie raised her the sword in the air higher, a sickening smile crossing her lips. The death knight licked her lips and thrust the sword down upon the sleeping druid, piercing her chest and using both hands to push hard, breaking past flesh and earth, sinking the blade into Xaneria's body to the hilt. Blood flew from the wound, covering the death knight's face as she began to laugh, the sound of splitting flesh and breaking bone echoing in the small cavern.

Elizabel's eyes grew wide, dropping her large sword to the ground in shock, the flames starting to subside. She took a single step forward. Chidorie laughed, licking the blood from her lips and twisting the blade, standing tall and ripping it from the druid's flesh. The sleeping body coiled around the motions, a gasp full of crismon fluid coughed past Xaneria's lips, tears rolling down her face, her soul still clenched in the dream.

"Now...she wont have a body to return to." Chidorie grinned, dropping the blade to the ground and turned to Elizabel.

The warrior gritted her fists together, her teeth clenching and her body begining to tremble from anger. The slow but quick explosion of flames from her markings, and the heavy glow from her eyes erupted around her in fel fire, moving quickly after Chidorie, swinging a thick plated fist at the death knight's face and connecting. The power of the hit through Chidorie into the wall and embedded her at least 4 meters deep. Laughing echoed from the hole as a darkness began to creep from it like a living mist.

"The flower picker is out of the way..." Chidorie's voice faded into the darkness as the corruption began to disapate. She had escaped through a death gate, after being shoved into the earth.

Elizabel stood over Xaneria's body, her gauntlet cracking from the heated pressure, her flames begining to abate yet her teeth remained gritted. The warrior stood there in anger, feelings filling her chest like she was drowning. With a sudden release of the fel marks, her body relaxed. Her hands unclenched and her jaw unlocked, the warrior's knees weakly falling forward and dropping her to the ground, the splashing of her plated legs hitting the pool of blood raised her dimished eyes, filling her sight in a heavy crimson. Tears began to rush from her face, as her body curled in anger, burrying her chin in her chest and slamming a fist into the dirt. The secondary pressure shattered the metal around her hand, the blood starting to fill the crevice and pool around her fingertips.

Still warm. Elizabel lifted her hand to Xaneria's face, running her fingertips over the druid's face. Her empty gaze watched the druid's chest as it halted its breathing. Still warm. Her body didn't move, her lungs did not take in air, her eyes didn't open and yet she remained warm. Elizabel starred at Xaneria, blankly.

Still warm.

Darkness pooled over the room like the blood to the tiny crater. The fire of the torches began to fade, blanketing the room in lightless, thick and cold air, yet the body remained warm. A flash of light broke past the darkness, climbing over Elizabel.

The warrior suddenly opened her eyes, gasping, her face drenched in sweat. Quickly she looked about the room, noticing herself leaning upon the wall of the cavern. Ailac and Xaneria rested in their same place, the idol still pulsed a faint energy, the walls were intact and the smell of morning glory and fadeleaf filled the damn cavern. Elizabel shook her head as she brought a hand to her forhead.

Neyeeva looked up from her position, watching the sleeping druids, hearing the sharp intake of breath coming from Elizabel. She turned her head looking over the warrior, taking notice to her state, her eyes growing wide in alarm and concern.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine..." Elizabel said sighing heavily as she looked around the room. "Seems, I just had a rather vivid dream..." The warriors words trailed off as she turned her gaze back to Xaneria, staring at the bodies of both druids. Neyeeva's eyes followed, suddenly... something caught their eye.

"Have you awaken?"

Pretense of Awakening

Ailac stirred upon the tall grass as a gentle breeze washed over him, carrying the crisp scent of the night air. Slowly he opened his eyes rolling onto his back to stare up at the ethereal sky, pale violet clouds rolling lazily overtop the crescent moon. Drawing a deep breath he raised himself up onto his elbows, peering through the tall grass as his mind gathered itself.

Raising to his feet he stood amidst the waist high grass, the clearing stood only ten paces off, writhing tendrils of Nightmare flailing in their final death throes, it would fade in time without aid. Turning he scanned the tall grass, Xaneria must lay nearby hidden among the grass. He must wake her.

Xaneria's body lies in the center of pushed back grass, chilled over and still surrounded in a dark aura, as if suffocating her from the dream, deep into the nightmare. Her body shakes slightly from time to time, words coming from her lips, though her voice is gone, mouthing cries in her state. A hand pressed to her chest, her fingers twitch as if trying to grip at something around her neck, the color faded from her skin.

Ailac walked towards Xaneria's form with purpose, the blades of grass parting and bending back before his steps to allow him to pass unhindered. He knelt beside her, placing his hand upon her brow. So cold. His brows furrowed, a green glow enveloping his form as he drew upon the flow of natural energy flowing through the place molding them at his well. Moss sprung to life, blanketing her form to warm her.

"Il'dar... you must wake yourself. Open your eyes from the Nightmare."

A hand, shaking, grips Ailac, with great force, fearfully holding tightly, eyes still closed tight in fear. Her breathing labors, mouthing the words her voice barely whispers. "Why...." "....betray..." Her grip grows tighter then loosens, before gripping tighter once more. Her body starts to warm, the distress over her form lessening.

"None have betrayed you, Il'dar." Ailac lowered his head, letting his forehead rest upon hers. Gently he places his hands upon her shoulders, letting soothing green light course through him to infuse her with energy. He could feel the power washing through her, feel the flow of her own energy clinging to life. Corruption threatened to consume her, trying to throw the last trickles of life from her form.

Closing his eyes he felt this Cenarius' power flow through the night, he called it, willed it to strike back the corruption writhing inside her. Vibrant life met putrescent filth, writhing and snapping against one another. Images flashed through his head, dark Nightmares of things past not his own.

The images race through the flow of power fast. A wave of darkness flows with the visuals. Xaneria stood by and watched as Elizabel took a final swing at a jade haired male warrior in the wrath gates, spilling his blood about the floor, her eyes looking up in cold and lost hatred. The flash of green from her eyes becomes blinding, throwing the images into the Requiem deep in the Black Citadel as Elizabel's beaten and bloodied body sinking into the wall. The darkened despair from the nightmare pulls Ailac's thoughts down into a cold corner of the woods where a Death Knight Elizabel and a Death Knight resembling the former warrior reach out, cold hands touching Xaneria's head, to end her life. Final tears drop, the sound vibrating the imagery around his mind and pulling him quickly into a saddened but true reality.

Xaneria and Elizabel stand in Dragonblight in a faraway place, laying flowers at the base of a small headstone. Both bow their heads, as the wind picks up, throwing the snow about and blinding the visuals, fading to a small cliff above a castle in Eversong. Xaneria stood in the moonlight, looking down at the castle, her eyes fixed on a pale druid, whos powers of nature begin to shift, falling into the abyss of arcane. Xaneria closes her eyes in disappointment and turns, walking away and vanishing into the darkness of the foliage. A cry from a sorrowed wolf crosses the landscape, followed by the remnants of the nightmare as it throws Ailac's mind from Xaneria’s, fading from her body.

Ailac opens his eyes, the images retreating slowly from his mind. The corruption seeped from the form of the druid leaking through her eyes into the night air. Focusing his mind he pressed on, chasing after it with his hand, flows of life and rejuvenation bursting forth to tear through the corruption. Slowly he relaxed, leaning back away from her form and sitting on his heels. He could still feel the flows, her life force weak, yet flooding back through her body bringing with it life and warmth. Her hand fell from his shoulder, its grips lax and released, no longer tensed in pain, breathing coming stronger and more peaceful. A slow smile drifted over his face, the corruption gone from the area, replaced with the peaceful flows of nature's power drifting through the breeze.

Xaneria's hands halted their shaking, her eyes starting to open. Her voice was clam and weak, tired from the ordeal. "Where...?" The blackness enveloped her sight, unable to see anything, her senses still a wreck and failing. The druid sat up, a hand to her forehead for support, turning her body to look around, trying to find some semblance of her whereabouts. "The nightmares..." She whispered, still uncertain of what was around her.

"They are done now, Il'dar. You are free from it," Ailac called, his voice gentle and relieved. Slowly he reached out, placing a hand softly upon her shoulder for support. "I finally found you, Xaneria. I won't let the Nightmare have you again."

"Ai...lac... " Her voice shook at the mention, her body halting movements, turning to him slowly, the direction of his voice. Her face showed faint signs of fear as she scooted back on the ground. "Ailac..." She repeated in a nervous rapture. "This... another of the nightmares? I.. I can't see, I can't feel... all that is around my vision is darkness." She turns her head, face soured in irritation that her senses were messed up beyond repair at this point.

"No Il'dar. This is not the Nightmare." Ailac closed his eyes, hanging his head, sadness in his voice. "We are still within the Emerald Dream, however. But this is no Nightmare. I'm here."

Her voice lowers. "Nothing in this place is believable, not my sight, her smell, not your voice." Xaneria curled herself up for a second then forced her body to stand. "Why am I here? This, isn't what I was expecting... the corruption defiling 'you' pulled us into the dream and locked us immediately in the nightmare without bereave." Her hands shake, moving at her sides as if trying to find some form of balance.

Ailac rose to his feet, drawing himself to stand before her. Slowly he reached out, taking her hands and enveloping them within his own firmly. "I never meant to bring you here.... If I had known what would happen I never would have allowed this." He sighed, sounding burdened. "But that is done now. I am at peace, Il'dar, my mind is none but my own. This is no trick, the Nightmare is gone from your body now. You are free now, Il'dar, as am I."

"I.." Xaneria pulled back suddenly gripping her head as the sounds of shrieking power and the blazing colors flashing in her head bring her to her knees. "Then...why?! Why are my senses still so..." She groaned under her breath at the ache. "Why can I not take control of them?! It hurts, all this power, this natural... natural existence is overwhelming me... I just...STAY AWAY!" She bit her lip and glared upwards under pressured eyes. "I... I can't find any truth, any solidity... STAY AWAY!"

Ailac crouched down to her side, frowning in concern. "Such is the nature of this place, a land of power where spirits dwell and thrive all around. Power flows through the Dream like currents flowing through the Ocean. Truth does not mean the same things in this land, not in regards to most. But know this on truth at least..." Ailac reached up his hands behind his neck, untying the knot of a thin cord hanging round his neck. He leaned forward, slowly so as not to disturb Xaneria's frail senses further, reaching past her head to tie the cord, letting the talisman fall against her skin. "... I am here. I will find a way to wake us both."

Xaneria's eyes widen for a moment, the feint red glow from the metalic shard now hanging around her neck warming her heart. She moved a weary hand up, touching it, a smile growing on her face as the tears fell from her eyes without warning. The druid's thin fingertips grazed over the metal, feeling the dark grooves of the etched runes. Her hand gripped tightly around the necklace as she took a deep breath, flinching from the pain of the sounds that pushed through her shock, harder still, causing her knees to weaken.

"I... want to go home...Ailac. If you are well, then I want to go home." She turned her head, closing her eyes and biting her lip. "I'm not as strong as you and Cenias... the dream... it devours me. I can't sleep and fight this fight, I could not be here as you two were. I'm not that strong. Even now, knowing you are real..." a hand raises before her. "Evening knowing this isn't a nightmare, even knowing those were nightmares... Eli...would never betray us... never...die... I was still so frightened and scared. I couldn't do anything but frantically call to myself, and found myself begging for her to save me."

The druid laughed.

"I'm pathetic, when in a tight corner relying on others, but I can't do much else. My purpose isn't to be strong or fight, though I am not sure what it is..." Xaneria dropped her head upon Ailac's shoulder, taking in a deep breath, still clinging to her necklace. She reached up, pulling at his arm. "Ailac... Forgive me, but without my sight I truly am useless. I need to lean on you for now... Please... let’s go home." Her voice grew weary as the tears continued to fall.

Ailac wrapped his arms around the druid’s shoulders, pulling her tighter against him to give her strength. "Hush, Il'dar, do not speak words such as this. The Nightmare feeds upon the doubts within the mind, turning fear and sorrow against oneself, tearing at the mind. But you are strong. I can feel it, your mind is whole. Do not call yourself weak."

Ailac sighed, letting the wind flow over him, cooling his heads and calming his thought. "So much has happened, this place has brought nothing but pain to you. I'm sorry, Il'dar. I only wish there was something I could do."

With that he paused, mist drawing thick over the glade, its energy pulsing and whirling, causing the trembling druid to flinch beneath his arms, her eyes shut tight against the buffeting energies. Ailac reached his hand back, brushing tears from her face, his fingertips brushing overtop her closed eyelids, energy leaping into them and shocking him back.

"This pulse..." he breathed, flashes of colour beating against his mind. "Stay still Xaneria, let me take away this burden from you."

Xaneria pauses, her head motioning up at his with strange confusion on her face. She took in a breath.

"What are you talking about, Ailac?" The druid drew her face in worry, flinching from the pain resounding in her head.

"Don't worry, Xaneria. I'll lessen the pain." Ailac drew himself back, crouching before her and brining his left hand up to cover his left eye. Gently he took her chin in his right hand, tilting her face up to look towards him, bring his fingertips up in front of her closed eyelids. "Open your eyes, Il'dar. Keep them open and remain still, no matter what you hear."

Xaneria stutters, her hands starting to tremble, gripping tightly at his arms.


"W...what are you .... " She stopped herself short, questioning him at this point seemed useless. Her eyes, opaque and empty opened looking straight through him, their color nearly gone. Xaneria bit down on her lip, hard. Her nerves and curiosity made it difficult to sit still, yet she managed to breathe in and relax.

Trembling, Ailac forced open his left eye, drawing the wisps of energy into his body to pulse through his being. Green light enveloped the forefinger and thumb of his left hand, exhaling sharply as he braced himself. With a subdued gasp of pain he forced the fingers into the socket, green light pulsing as fingers shed blood and tears fanning across his cheek. Shaking, he pulled, meeting resistance as nerve and tendons strained, snapping with a sickly pop as the eyeball pulled forth into the palm of his hand, green glow surrounding amber sustaining it.

"Ailac?!" Xaneria's hands gripped his arms tighter, hearing the popping sound and flinching, the smell of blood rushing over her. "Ailac!? What are you doing? Blood?!"


Roots sprung to life from his fingertips sinking roots into the amber mass, sending creepers shooting over his arm and chest, flowing out to his right hand. Amber light flowed into the creepers, pulsing across him as the eye was devoured, its nutrients feeding into the vibrant vines, leaves opening from blood with brilliant glow. The creepers grew, slowly leaving his right fingertips and closing the gap, caressing Xaneria’s cheeks before coiling up to her eyes. Their amber roots bursting from tips, sending energy flowing into her opaque eyes as they latched on, infusing blue and emerald with life.

Xaneria's hand moved as if to grab at her face. She began to panic at the feelings on her face. "What!?" The druid stopped feeling the entrance into her eyes and biting down on her lip, the power rushing into her eyes. "Ailac what...?!"

The last of the amber light flowed through the creepers in his hand, the vines coiling and sinking back across his body towards his right hand, dissipating into the air. Ailac felt the flows pass through him, the life from his eyes flowing through the vines in a pulse of light. Amber light pulsed through the vines, flowing through the roots as they broke into mist, the last of the energy swelling into her eyes and flooding them with light.

Ailac's strength flagged, his hands sinking down to rest upon his legs, slouching down to draw his breath. Blood flowed with tears from the empty socket of his left eye, yet he paid it nor the pain it brought no heed. "Xaneria... Il'dar. Now open your eyes, truly open them once more."

Xaneria hesitated, her eyes closed and misting from the sudden changes. A hand reached up, touching her eyelids before weakly pulling her lids open with her muscles. At first there was nothing but darkness, then light poured over a blurred and shapeless world of color that began to shift and take form... slowly, more slowly things became clear to her. Xaneria's hands began to tremble as she looked upon Ailac's face, it coming more clear before her. A gasp escaped her lips at the sight, taking his face in her hands tightly, trying to close her eyes to the image but finding herself unable to look away. Xaneria began to cry, her hands starting to emit a soft glow.

"Ailac! This..." She hesitated in her words. "This... isn't the way I wanted to see you, after all these years..." Her tears began to flow more with each word. "Why... why did you do this?"

Ailac reached up his right hand, placing it overtop hers, his left hand with bloody fingers lay hanging by his side. "After all you were willing to risk for me..." he breathed softly, his energy slowly returning. "How could I sit by and do nothing for you."

"BRAT!" Xaneria's voice raised for the first time in true anger at Ailac, yet worry trailed behind it. Her hands began to shake, yet her healing continued... it was as if she was completely returned to herself, her fears and doubts gone, her energy strong as ever.

"What were you thinking?! Its only natural for a mother to do such..." She stopped a bit embarrassed but continued. "To do such things for a child... and you... hurting yourself to this extent, for my sight" her agitation began to calm, her words lowering and her voice like one from long ago; deep in the hills of the Moonglade, standing behind a grave marker. "Thank you, Ailac."

Ailac gently took hold of Xaneria's wrists, closing his eyelids and smiling as he moved her hands from his face, rising to his feet and gently pulling her to stand. Slowly he turned, opening his right eye to gaze over the glade. Grass swung slowly under the breeze, rustling softly into the still night, a sea of blue tinted gold flowing endlessly before his eyes.

"It's time.... We should wake now."

Xaneria gripped Ailac’s hand for a moment then released it stepping next to him.

"I... think so as well." She smiled in his direction, her cheeks blushing, her face happy. "After all, I think they are probably sick of staring at our bodies, don't you think?" Xaneria paused.. putting a finger to her lips as if seriously thinking. "Ah, Eli's probably broke something, I bet she's bored out of her mind right now."

"I'm sure your right. Cenias has watched over me enough already. I'll be lucky if he doesn't smack my head into a tree for this." Ailac smiled with a weak laugh.

"Eh...Cenias..." She tilted her head down, keeping her smile, yet still showing worry. "He will truly have at me for failing so poorly... won’t he?" Xaneria takes a deep breath. "Well, I'm old enough I think I can handle a lashing or two myself." The small druid giggled.

Ailac raised his hands up, holding them over the soft earth beneath him. Emerald light swirled about him drawn in from the grass, the earth, the sky and all of the dream realm that flowed about the druids. The light swelled in his hands, glowing fiercely underneath his palms as it trailed downwards like flowing water down back into the earth. The ground shook and protested, churning rock and dirt groaning in protest as they were shoved aside, a massive root rising from the earth and bursting into the fresh night sky.

"A..amazing." Xaneria smiled looking over the creation. "Ailac, you really are strong, especially here."

The root broke apart, arching itself out into the night into a large open circle, two spans across. Shimmering flowers blossomed along the inside of the arch, bursting with pollen that swirled and amassed at its centre, writhing in shades and hues unseen in the natural world. The gate opened, shifting and writhing with the faint scene of the barrows.

Xaneria nods lightly in response, still in awe at the sight, she grips his hand tightly.

Ailac nodded, smiling lightly as he looked at her face, the light shining from within her eyes. Turning he stepped softly towards the gate, tugging on her hand to get her to follow.

A rusted bell tolled into the silent night.

Black flames burst through the portal, consuming the swirling light. The roots shattered, bursting then erupting into rotten wood. Darkness enveloped the night, blotting out the stars and swallowing the night sky, blackness making it seem as if the night's pale light had been noonday sun. The field danced into life, speckled in rot as the plants themselves seems to scream in anguish.

Corpusculent roots lashed from the earth, tearing the field asunder as if the dirt were made of mere cloth. Rotting plant life leaked blood onto the ground.

"The Nightmare...." Ailac breathed, his eyelids flung wide in horror. Crystalline amber stared on in horror.

Xaneria stepped back, seeing the nightmare for the first time, taking its way and laying its mark on the emerald earth. Her hand released from Ailac's as she stepped backwards, gasping in fright.

"How... why? Why is it still around?"

Xaneria flinched at the sight and covered her face lightly.

"No. This cannot be..." Ailac flinched, spinning around as the dark walls of Nightmare surrounded them, writhing in a mass that seethed in towards them. Ailac braced his feet, roots spreading from his legs down into the clean earth below, drawing upon the green life below.

"Xaneria, take my hand!" He reached out stretching his hand towards her.

Xaneria took another step back but stopped, looking around. Her eyesight was returned and the visions before her were terrifying. Snapping her head up, hearing Ailac's voice Xaneria thrust her hand forward towards Ailac, her fingertips grazing his, barely missing.

Ailac felt her fingertips graze over his, he clenched his hand hoping to grasp on, yet the earth protested. Roots tore about his feet, sending him flying through the air away from Xaneria. Corruption welled up, vines snaking and grasping about her, swallowing over her form and dragging her back into the wall of rot seething through the glade. Bright green blossoms burst to life over Ailac's form, his spell now complete. Darkness clouding out the dream. Her hand reached out towards him, slowly being swallowed by the writing mass of bleeding vines was the last image his solitary right eyes saw, as he opened his eye once more into waking.

Xaneria vanishes into the darkness....

The Hornless Stag

The stag with broken horns trembled weakly, shuddering rather than thrashing. The black wormlike thickness of ink still crept over its body, sewing it to the ground, and writhing like maggots on a rotted corpse. The forest was quiet, leaves fell from the trees as the season changed to autumn, explosions of colour touched the tumbling leaves. A beautiful young fawn stood amidst the trees. She walked over to the trapped stag, nuzzling it for a moment, then laying down beside it. Her ears twitched while she watched the surrounding woods. Another figure, a doe, strong and in the prime of her life, stepped from the brush. Her form was slender, but powerful. She walked with grace, but a hint of haughty pride could be heard in her steps by the surrounding forest. The doe was confident, nature scoffed. Approaching the fawn, the doe snorted, looking down at it, the fawn turned her head away, shyly, then stood.

Gently the two deer extended their necks, stretching, watched the enveloping forest, and in a slow motion, nuzzled the fallen stag, once. Brief as a final kiss between lovers before saying goodbye. The stag, eyes still closed, snorted. It pulled its legs beneath itself, powerful tempered muscles pushing it away from the forest floor while ropes of corruption strained to hold it down, quivered, and snapped.

The writhing broken tendrils pooled into a black mass and darted away, moving like water downhill across the ground. They formed, strapping one on top of another creating fake bone and muscle. The seasons changed, winter was barren, the trees were leafless, the forest even more quiet than before while the form became something with legs, teeth, claws, muscle, thick hide. The doe and the fawn stood, watching. The doe stepped forward, but the hornless stag shook its entire mass, as if shaking off an unknown itch, and moved before the doe, standing in front of it and the fawn, and lowered its naked, de horned head, legs becoming rigid and straight, stretched at angles rather than pillars beneath it.

The blackness formed, substance dripped from its mouth, the seasons changed, and the beast of oil made a noiseless snarl, a mass of fangs, claws, and rot. The stag charged forwards, hooves pounding the earth as the beast leapt. The seasons changed, spring faded into summer, blossoms of new life turned to solid shades of dark green and ripening fruit. The creature noiselessly struggled, claws swiping at the face of the stag, but unable to reach it. It writhed in agony as the antlers grew harder and stronger, larger and more powerful. Blackness dribbled down onto the stag’s face as it stood with its head tilted back, holding the impaled creature high on its horns. The blackness tried to change forms, to flee, it no longer wished to turn its pain to revenge and hatred, but now to sorrow and desperation to cling to life. The antlers grew stronger still, jagged tips protruding from the back of the trapped beast.

The last flailing of escape slowed, and ceased. The best went limp, and hung in the air. No noise disturbed the woods, the stag shook its head violently, and cast the creature from its antlers. It stood proud, dominant in its territory while the beast at is feet turned to rot, and returned to the soil, feeding into new life and regrowth.

Turning slowly, the stag looked to the two deer behind itself. The doe’s ears flickered, and it walked away into the woods. The shy fawn bowed its head in a gentle dip in the stag’s direction before turning to follow the other female.

The stag shook its head, shaking off the last of the blackened creature’s flesh, and preceded to return to the water. The woods were silent while it walked. Perhaps it knew it should run, and that there were others counting on it, but it could not bring itself to do so. Cenias emerged from the woods, the Keldorei walking on his muscular violet hind legs towards the stream.

He kneeled down by it, and wept bitterly.

Corruption

((A quick note for the timeline, this post begins as Xaneria is administered the Fireroot medicine within "Peris returns". The section completed within the waking realm would thus follow slightly after Peris departs. As with all my posts see the comments for acknowledgments. Enjoy.))



A deep crimson hue lay over the tall swaying grass of the field, cast by the sinking sun during the last death throes of the daylight. To the average eye the glowing field would be a sight of beauty, but the druid who stood in its midst saw nothing but a churning sea of blood. The wind stirred waves that lapped over him, carrying his scream along the crest of air.

Ailac clawed across the barren ocean of grass, his fingers tearing through the fertile earth as if it were fine surf. Panic moved him on, driving him to flee the island of rot that now stood where he had entered this place. Broken stalks and clods of dirt formed a wake in his haste. Images spurned him forward, a dagger unsheathed upon the rotting earth, Cenias’ face twisted in its last agonizing moments as his body emptied to the earth. Yet it was not an image that halted his slight.

There in front of him the crimson field flattened down, a low cut clearing of broken tops amidst waist high blades of golden red. Dark moss crept between the ravaged blades, speckled in sickly shades of rot. Decay blossomed within the air, the buzzing of insects becoming a torrent of noise amidst the silence of the dream world. A mount rose up in the centre of the corruption, covered in blackened vines that seethed like maggots upon a rotting carcass. But from that pulsating mound, fell silvery platinum hair.

“Il’dar… No! I will not let the Nightmare take you!”

Ailac leapt to his feet bounding to the vine riddled mound in a swift motion, plunging his hands into the darkness writing below him. Vines ripened with puss burst beneath his fingers, letting forth pungent noxious gasses into the air. Sickening ooze ate at his gloves, burning back the threads of fabric and leather to sting calloused flesh beneath. In a feverous daze Ailac dug on unheeding of his own wounds, pulling forth the limp form of the druid and darting back beyond the circle of corruption.

A violent whorl of darkened clouds blotted out the fiery skyline, summoned down by the call of Ailac’s powers. Lightning rent the earth, tearing clumps out of the corrupted field as the typhoon opened up over the field, dumping torrents of water upon the druids, washing the ooze from the bodies of the two druids and purifying them.

Ailac gently lay her down upon the tall grass, drawing forth a pillow of clean moss to cradle her as he kneeled down. Her form was whole, yet carried the chill of the grave. Warmth did not touch her, and though no wounds lay upon her body she radiated pain, lost in the Nightmare. Her shoulders were writhed in the black corrupting mist of the Nightmare; he could see it, her right shattered while a phantasmal sword flickered through her, impaling the left shoulder. Blackened ice lay over her body, fading into existence then forced back. Her breaths came in shallow gasps.

“Il’dar, wake up,” he pleaded, his voice weak with concern. “You have to awaken, Il’dar.”

Breathing deep Ailac summoned the earth to his call, the overflowing power of the Emerald Dream coursing through him, threatening to tear him down stream. He reached out, grasping for the flowing torrent. Power flooded into him, threatening to tear him apart. “No… this power, something isn’t right.” Struggling he drew it further, forcing it to flow through him and be channeled into the struggled flows of healing he roughly knew, letting it flow from his palms and into her still form.

Verdant life enveloped Xaneria… and nothing happened. Time and time again. Her breaths becoming farther and farther apart.

Exhaustion flooded through Ailac, the force of nature fleeing from him as he dropped to his hands and knees. “Why Xaneria, why can I do nothing for you?” Tears stained his cheeks, falling quietly upon her cold cheeks. “Wake up, please. You must.”

“So in the end your true worth shines through. Pitiful, wouldn’t you agree, stray?” The voice was deep and booming, standing hairs on edge along the back of Ailac’s neck.

“Sadris!” Ailac growled, feral and vicious. Sadris stood behind him, looking down with unveiled scorn. He was tall, with long vibrant green hair. Dark tailored robes adorned his form, arms folded across his chest.

“Look at yourself, pitiful and powerless as you kneel beside your precious “Il’dar” weeping.” He strolled forward, amber eyes burning with contempt, stopping just before Ailac. “Just like before, there is nothing you can do for her. She suffers while you stand by, weak and useless.”

Ailac turned back, his growl feral, “You venomous Cra’xas… I won’t listen to your lies.”

“Foolish cub, you think I speak lies?” Sadris lashed out with his foot, kicking Ailac down onto his back. “You think you can do something, save her? Pathetic delusions of a lost child, what have you ever done to help her?”

Ailac drew up to his hands with hate evident in his glowing eyes, amber met amber. “I have been by her side, healer her wounds and eased her troubles. She is my mother and I as a child to her. I will not give up on her, take your filth elsewhere. You have caused her enough pain.” Ailac turned his back, the verdant energy coursing through him anew as he resumed healing, the energies rolling off her quiet form.

The dark figure gave a mirthless laugh. “So you stood by her side then, healed her wounds. But what did you do for her while you slumbered for centuries, while she stayed awake alone without your comforts. You do not have the right to protect her. Run off, cub. Your ministrations are useless.”

“Wake up Xaneria. This is only the Nightmare, you must fight it.”

“She will not wake. You will fail her again,” Sadris’ voice dripped venom.

Ailac spun with a fierce growl, crouched down low as if ready to pounce. “Be silent, fiend!”

Sadris began to walk around, circling slowly like a hawk eyeing its prey. “Your little resistance does not change the truth. You feel it, don’t you? Admit it to yourself; know deep down how you abandoned her, while she begged you to stay you turned your back. You can do nothing for her, you never could.”

Ailac flared up, his mind lost in anger. With a lunge he was on his feet, reaching out for Sadris throat with a killing intent, his fangs bared. “Endu’di rifa!” The war cry rolled off his tongue, his fingers sinking into soft flesh.

Sadris did not gasp, he smiled a cruel smile. “Look at you, so eager to fall into darkness? Will you kill me now, like you did your friend?”

Ailac’s hand fell slack, the bloody dagger clattering to his feet. Black vines congealed with rot stood before him, no longer in that hated form. Creepers round wound Ailac’s body, digging inch long thorns into flesh around his ankles and wrists.

“Now then….” The nightmarish figure said his voice cracked and raspy, dripping venom. “It’s finally time I took back what is mine.” Black vines spread forth from its body. They plunged into Ailac’s flesh, sending roots spreading through his being, hot blood fanning down his abdomen. Blackness swallowed the last remaining light.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Ailac's body jerked rigid, muscles tensing and shaking upon the stones of the Barrow Den. Beads of sweat pooling upon his body despite the cool air. A low moan feel from his mouth, twisted in pain with eyes forced shut tighter than sleep.

Neyeeva took notice of the movement of Ailac's body. She then heard the moan escaping his lips. She glanced momentarily at Eli as she rose to her feet to inspect the sleeping druid. As she drew nearer to the body she noticed the sweating. Instinctively she put her hand to his temple. The skin was burning to the touch, hot with fever. She drew back her hand, rising and turning away to gather a cloth and cool water. "He has a fever. " She explained as she procured the cloth and bowl from one of the packs Peris had brought.

Elizaebel remained calm, her back resting against the walls of the barrow as if unconcerned. Yet her eyes flashed down towards the druids, intently watching as Ailac lay writhing under the effects of the Nightmare, one finger tracing the hilt of the long sword arching over her shoulder.

Spasms of the fever wracked Ailac's body, his hands rising from his side to clutch the center of his chest. Weakly his hands fell to his sides, now his chest was no longer smooth, a vibrant gash lay beneath where his hands had been, black blood trickling from the wound as if it had been seared shut. Darkness pulsed through Ailac's right side, the blackness flowing through his veins, his skin turning paler. Ailac moaned again, weak and barely audible, as if being drained, streaks of silver washing out the deep blue of his hair.

As Neyeeva pressed the cool damp cloth to Ailac's temple and cheeks, dotting at the sweat, she was startled in a near fright, dropping the cloth into the water filled bowl with a great splash as the druid's body began to move suddenly. She watched as Ailac drew his hands to his chest, observing the new wound. Then the blackness took over part of his body, his hair changing. Neyeeva gasped as she realized the truth of what was happening. "This is no fever. It is the corruption!" Neyeeva placed her palm to hover over the wound. A soft green light shone from the palm as she directed the healing spell as she directed it into the seething wound. At the same time she concentrated, pulling forth the powers to cleanse the wound of any corruption that it might hold. The dual effort took much of her energy as she calmly allowed the healing spell to work. She then spread her arms out over Ailac's right side. She began to pull forth a greater amount of power to quail and cleanse the corruption of Ailac's body. Her down turned palms glowed with a stronger green light. She concentrated all her effort into the black corruption.

The blackness recoiled against the healing energies, fading and retreating it seemed. Slowly Ailac's body stilled, the wound sealed yet a charred black scar remaining. Slowly Ailac's body stilled, the sweat lessening.

Yet blackness enveloped once more, his right arm swallowed beneath the black blood. The tremor shook his body, his arm flashing out to strike for Neyeeva's throat with dripping claws of blood.

Elizaebel's hand quickly snatched Ailac's by the wrists, looking over the body. He was providing some resistance to her in his sleep, bringing a solitary moment of curiosity to the warrior's face as she narrowed her eyes and forced his hand back. Elizaebel looked to Neyeeva.

"It's still dangerous." She said with little emotion pulling Neyeeva up from the ground and moving her back a bit, now watching more closely the events portrayed on the fighting druid, her eyes being pulled at the chilling body of Xaneria from the corners of her vision.

Neyeeva scowled, growling a little after Eli had pulled her back. She lifted her chin assertively, setting her jaw. Determination filled her eyes as she once more dove into the cleansing powers, pulling them forth.

She knew better now, gave herself distance from Ailac. She closed her eyes in concentration as she released the cleansing energies about the barrow. She drug deeper, drawing together more, stronger energy as she motioned with her hands and arms, pulling them out and up, then forward to Ailac as she directed the powers to him, at the corruption. She opened her eyes narrowing them at the blackness, the Nightmare, as she released the gathered energy. While doing so she felt her own energy quickly beginning to fade; Neyeeva prayed silently that it would be enough.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Black clouds churned in the sky, engulfing the canopy of trees as it boiled and seethed impossibly low before bursting to retreat back into the air. Whorls of mist trailed through the air though there was no wind to carry them. No sun shone in this place, yet as Ailac opened his bleary eyes there was enough light to see. Thick branches lay beneath him woven together so heavily it felt as if he stood upon stone, covered only in a grass of fine oak and birch leaves. He stood in the center of a large clearing, over a hundred spans across of treetop, interspersed with thick branches towering into the air over four spans thick where they broke the canopy.

Ailac slowly began to search the area. At the edge of the canopy the trees trailed off, leaving a dizzying drop that at places feel unbroken for thousands of feet down into the mist. Some areas lay thick copses of trees branching off from the trunks of the cluster he stood upon, shooting straight out and unheeding to the laws of nature. Taller trees jutted from the mist away from the gap, some forty spans off, towering above the top of his canopy. Waterfalls interspersed the trunks, falling down beneath the mist. No place like this could exist.

Ailac turned back to the center with a pause, now ten paces away there stood a thick stump, gnarled and weather worn despite that it had not been there before.

A wicked laugh echoed through the air, cavernous and hollow it split the silent tranquility. “So finally the caitiff returns home.” From behind the stump the figure walked out causing Ailac’s jaw to fall open in shock. It was as if looking into the mirror drained of color. The figure shines white, skin clothing and hair the color of snow. It cracked a grin, black fangs bared behind pale lips, its eyes opening into blackness. “This time, runt, I will be taking our body.”

“What… what are you talking about? Where is this? Surely this can’t exist within the dream.”

The laugh came again as if the voice were mirrored by the screeching of rusty metal. “What you haven’t figured it out yet, runt?” The figured reached up, tapping the side of its head with its malicious grin growing.

Ailac stiffened, his muscles tensing as the air suddenly felt thick and strangulating. “No… this can’t be. This must be a Nightmare.”

“Slow aren’t you for a druid? You can’t even recognize your own mind.” The gravelly voice was grating, mocking, “Oh but you are correct. This does involve the Nightmare.”

“Who are you?” Ailac growled fiercely, “What do you want with me?”

The figure drew closer, white robe hanging still as he moved. “I AM you! What I want…. Is my body back, you petulant runt!” A black nimbus surrounded the white figure, swirling over its body as seething black vines erupted through the branches at Ailac’s feet, binding his body and lifting it into the air slightly. “Now I’ll take it.”

Ailac struggled against his bonds, tearing his arms free as the figure drew nearer. With a thrust of his arms he reached out, drawing upon his wrath and fury at being bound to send it in a wave at the figure. Glowing green energy shot towards the figure, screeching with anger, yet never found its mark. The dark figure waved a hand, dissipating it.

“Hah! What a pathetic attempt.” It pauses, looking at the slight smoldering mark upon the back of its white hand. “That won’t work here, don’t you get it? I am you, what you can do, I can. For all their talk about fending off the Nightmare, you druids sure don’t know much about it.”

Shock left Ailac suddenly, his head briefly clear. “This is no Nightmare. That… is myself.” With a smirk the vines binding Ailac dropped, dispelled into nothingness as he dropped to his knees.

The nightmare pauses, tilting its head briefly in confusing that Ailac had broken free. With a dismissive wave the grin was back, mocking. “No matter, this body is mine. Resist all you want.”

“You fiend…” Ailac breathed, rising to his feet to stare defiantly at the white figure. “Creature of Nightmare, I will not let you control me.”

“Oh no, I won’t be controlling you.” It paused, tilting its head back with a metallic laugh. “This is what happens, to those of us who fall into the Nightmare. The mind shatters, berated by the torrent of fear and anger. Out of the pieces all that remains is that darkness, pain and fear. Most stay asleep, consumed. Those others who wake are nothing more than a shell, the mind having long since devoured itself.”

It paused, spitting vile filth into the trees. “But then you… Just as I had you something drew you back together. It’s too bad really…” In a flash of movement the figure sprung, lunging towards Ailac in a blur and slamming a fist deep into his abdomen. Ailac lifted from the ground, being flung back by the force against a massive branch cutting out from the canopy. “You should have stayed asleep. Now you get to suffer.”

Ailac fell to the ground, his head reeling from smacking off the thick bark. A black whirr flew towards his head; quickly he stumbled forward, rolling out of the way as a blackened staff flew through the air where he had been. The staff tore into the branch, splintering it into pieces as the base of the branch fell with a thunderous crash. Ailac rolled to his feet, the figure turned, black quarterstaff of rotting wood twirling through the air with his right hand. “I missed.”

“Such power…” Ailac thought, crouching low and trying to collect his spinning thoughts. “This is what I have fought, this side of myself. Xaneria, Cenias, Neyeeva… so many risk themselves to cleanse me of this. I will not let it win.”

The figure lunged again, twirling staff a midnight blur as it dived forward. Ailac dodged the staff as it tore rents in the canopy where he had been, scrambling frantically away back from the black blur. His own nightmare’s maniacal laughter spurning him on.

Canopy gave way beneath his feet as he was forced back off the edge of the treetops, plummeting down towards a branch below. Ailac saw the Nightmare come, leaping high over the edge with staff in hand. Twisting Ailac brought his fingers towards the tree, drawing on the energies of Nature within himself to guide it into the wood. The power sang to him, sang to the tree as bark peeled away, coiling about his arm before being molded, long shaft taking shape bound with vine into a bow, three long branches drawing straight to form arrows fletched in leaves. Kicking out his feet Ailac twisted, facing himself up to fire the branches at the Nightmare descending down upon him.

“So you play at being a sentinel, do you Ailac?” The black staff spun deflecting the first shot, the branch falling uselessly with the nightmare. The last two branches missing wide it grabbed the arrow, blackness swirling over its white arms and into the branch, shattering it into a thousand splintered needles it hurled down before it.

Ailac twisted, his feet hitting the branch with a solid impact that should have broken his form. Pain seared through his legs but he held, the vine snapping from the top over the bow as the shaft straightened to a quarterstaff of living wood. Needles bit into flesh as they rained from above, reflex barely catching in time as Ailac lifted the staff up to block the blow. The corrupted staff crashed into living wood with a reverberating smack, the Nightmare hung in the air balanced against the Druid holding him at bay. The branch beneath them cracking with the force of the collision.

“This might be fun, runt.” The hollow voice taunted, seeping confidence.

“I will not succumb!” Ailac screamed in protest. He shifted, twisting the bottom of the staff around to whip the vine out, wrapping around the Nightmare form. Ailac swung the staff, drawing the figure down to slam it towards the tree, strength flowing into him through the living wood.

The blackened staff waved, snapping and twisting in shape. Two curved thorns over a foot long tore through the vines binding the Nightmare. With a snarl it lashed out, hewing through the branch as it bounded off from the trunks towards the far trees. Ailac leapt from the falling branch, staff ready in hand as he followed, landing on a small outcropping split by a river, water crashing to rocks before falling down past the enormous trunks below.

The two danced across the shallow water, spray flying as staff and knife sliced through the mist of the waterfall. Black knives met living wood again and again in furious succession, sound drowned beneath the roar of the water. Chips flew from the living staff, replaced by creepers before the next blow could fall.

The figure drew knives together, blackened creepers joining them into a thick staff once more. Darkness flowed from its hollow gaze, hatred unrelenting. Ailac jumped back, clearing space as he landed beside a large pointed rock, half his size and twice as thick jutting from the torrent of water. With a roar of fury the black staff twirled, Ailac rolling away from the rock and staring in shock. Bulging creepers burst form the staff, encircling the rock in darkness and tearing it from the earth plateau.

“You think you can run, weakling! You’re mine!” With a roar it drew back the vicious club, unearthly in size compared to the elf wielding it. Darkness swirled along its arms as lashed out, the rock mace arcing towards Ailac. Living wood shattered beneath the force, sending Ailac back into the trees walling the waterfall, a spray of blood bursting from his mouth in a gasp.

Regaining his footing, Ailac threw himself to the ground, ducking beneath the mace as it tore into the wall of trees, spike splitting the trunks as if they were overripe melons. Rolling Ailac coiled up and lunged, living wood embracing his arms as thorns burst from the ends of the wood into massive claws. The figure lunged back, its mace shattering from the blow. Enraged Ailac forced on, swinging wildly as if he were the Ursine spirit himself, the figure nimbly dodging out of reach each time.

With a flash of darkness the Nightmare tossed Ailac back in a cyclone of wind, sending him sprawling to the opposite side of the plateau. Muscles limp; Ailac let himself twist with the force, springing to his feet as he slowed, years of feral grace coming to his aid. The figure stood and grinned amused.

“It’s meaningless, Ailac. Your efforts are as meaningless as ever. Soon I will be the master and you the beast, I’ll give us new meaning.” The last of its words trailing over the roar of the waterfall, it stepped back dropping from the plateau.

Ailac lunged after his fleeing self. “I will not let their efforts end in vain.” Living wood twisted about his body, merging over his left hand forming a circular core cradling a small seed. Bladed thorns erupted to form a glaive. Sliding down the trunk Ailac focused, unheeding as he plummeted through the mist to the earth below.

Ailac crouched low, scanning the ground wearily. This plateau covered in lush grass, stretched on as far as the eye could see. Tall lone trees dotted the clearing, giving it the look of the ground at last. Behind him the waterfall continued to plummet downwards shattering any illusions of the earth being beneath his feet.

With a crack the corrupt vine lashed out, catching Ailac’s shoulder and sending him to the ground. Blood trailed the air as the whip-like vine recoiled behind a tree. In a flash the whip cracked again, this time from a different tree. The vine lashed out, each time different, forcing Ailac to roll from the attacks and pain to sear his wounds.

With a flash of light the Nightmare was there, crouching in front of a tree with the vines flowing back into its body. Ailac didn’t hesitate, letting the glaive fly true. The figure moved with lightning speed, snapping the glaive from the air. “So much for your dreams of becoming a sentinel, runt.”

With a pulse of power Ailac drew up, letting the flows of rejuvenation flow from him into the seed. The glaive pulsed, erupting into a spray of vines that wrapped and entwined the Nightmare. “I am a druid. Nature is my only companion. Now I shall be cleansed”

The Nightmare grimaced, tugging at its bonds as it writhed and flailed feebly. Ailac drew closer, his gaze fixed upon the figure, gazing into his own corrupt eyes at that which plagued his mind and shattered his soul.

The Nightmare smirked. “You forget, Nature is mine to command as well.”

Black rot burst from the grass about the figure, snaking its way to his side to encircle the roots of a great tree, its trunk over five paces thick. Rot ate and twisted its form, devouring wood to feed itself into a form of twisted corruption, a mighty treant of decay. Rotting wood creaking in protest it burst to life, reaching forward its massive hand towards the pure druid, threatening to crush him in its filth.

Ailac braced himself, no time left to dodge the massive hand. Opening himself anew he felt the verdant life force swallow him. He pushed it into the earth, vines lashing out to stop the giants movements. Hundreds of vines burst from the earth, yet the treant pushed forth, struggling against its bonds to devour the druid. Fresh vines wrapped about its arms, an unending stream of rope with thousands of binding threads to tie back the corruption. Verdant life force colliding with blackened flows of corruptions, the raw energies of the two druids lashing against each other locked in the struggle of wills.

Sweat dripped over Ailac’s body, stinging his wounds as he threw his all into the vines. Verdant life force pushed back at the blackness, then was consumed in a wave of darkness, the enormous hand driving forwards to swallow the druid and earth with tremendous forth, sending eruptions of dirt and grass into the air.

Dust and blades of grass drifted to the ground, the twisted form of the ent collapsing into a mass of blacked roots and vines. Silence fell upon the plateau, broken only by the rush of water falling down to places unseen. The pale figure walked forth, sagging with effort as inky sweat dripped from its form. Bracing itself against the mass of corruption it grinned.

“Finally, this body is mine. No hard feelings, runt. Now I’m the Master, you the beast of burden.” Blackened eyes slid shut, head tilting to the sky expectantly. “Let fear and corruption reign supreme.”

Nothing happened.

The figure jumped back from the pile, eyes flinging wide to reveal pitch black sockets, scanning the plateau behind it. “No… he can’t possibly –“

A rush of air cut the Nightmare off, gurgling black ink that dripped down from its chin. From its chest burst forth flowing verdant life, tearing flesh with a wrathful vengeance, arching the Nightmare’s back forward with the impact.

“I will never let you take me, my mind is not broken.”

The figure twisted as it slid from the glowing hands held to its back, crumpling to the ground like one of its rotting vines. It was helpless, staring up at the druid looking down upon it. He was stained with blood, burning wounds marking his chest and arms, but he was whole.

“Foolish runt,” the figure spat, raised onto its elbows to glare up at the druid, its voice dripping hatred. “You cannot cleanse me. The Nightmare shattered your mind, and I was born. You may have won, but I’ll be back. You cannot run from me!”

“I know,” Ailac replied coolly. Black eyes shot open in surprise.

“Anger, fear, pain and sorrow. That is what you are, it is what you bring.” Ailac paused, drawing a breath and looking down with sympathy in his eyes. “But these are a part of myself, of every being. You are a part of me, part of the natural balance of life. I accept this, accept these things as a part of myself. They are mine to command, but shall never control me.”

Beneath his gaze the Nightmare flickered, flakes peeled from its skin tearing off into the air. Bone and sinew unwound, being unmade into black mist that slowly burnt off as a ray of sunshine pierced the churning clouds, vibrant blue sky visible once more. Drawing a deep breath Ailac smiled, closing his eyes and opening them once more into the realm of the Emerald Dream. Peace washed over him.

Peris Returns

Neyeeva was sitting, her legs drawn up close to her body, her head buried in the arms she rested atop her knees. Her eyes were closed in a light rest state, asleep, but aware. Eli was standing over Xaneria, ever watchful in a guarding state.

A cold air pushed from Xaneria's body on the dirt floors of the dens as blood ran from her lips, her body coughing harshly and cringing. It shook once, twice even, as her color began to fade. Xaneria's lips grew darker in color, as if her body was freezing, icy to the touch, the thick blood trickling down to the ground, her breathes slowing.

Neyeeva felt the sudden cold rush of air push against her lower quarters. The abrupt change was noticed immediately by Neyeeva. Her eyes snapped open as she brought her head up, then looked around sharply, attempting to reveal the source of the change. She looked to the sleeping, her ears twitched as she heard the coughing from Xaneria. Neyeeva rose to her feet, walking to inspect Xaneria. "Something is not right." she stated aloud, mostly to herself.

Elizaebel looked down at Xaneria curiously. "The cold.. coming from her?"

"I believe so." Neyeeva admitted as she knelt down over Xaneria's unconscious form.

Xaneria's body slowly began turning blue, paling over, her skin a cold tint and becoming pastey.

Eli stepped over xaneria, her hand glowing green with heat as she touched her face " ..... What is this?" She asked.

Neyeeva's eyes widened with alarm and wonder as Xan's color continued to fade. "I do not know. I have little experience with what the Dream is capable of." She put a hand to Xaneria's temple, as her instinct told her. "She's freezing." she stated, confused, alarmed, yet strangely calm as she assessed the happening.

A voice, thick with a draenic accent, from the doorway echoed, "Well, looks obvious to me shes cold don't you think?"

Neyeeva looked back with a jolt, caught unawares by the sudden new voice, as Elizaebel turned suddenly, drawing her sword in an instant stopping just short of cutting the new comer. "Peris..." the demon hunter sighed.

Peris smirked, her shield raised from a warrior's instict. "You are worried..." The draenei looked back to Xaneria. "Well, I remember something of what she said...what was it... dreams manifesting.. mind over matter?" she stepped past Eli then dug in her bags. "For now... Fire Leaf might help warm her a bit, and the extra blankets in that bag." She pointed back to a large sack dropped at the doorway. "Not much else you can do right?"

"Mind over matter hm?" Eli said shrugging as she sheathed her sword while Neyeeva rose to her feet to gather the items Peris mentioned. "I suppose not."

"She looks... " Peris spoke as she lowered her eyes and shook her head. "Never mind that... just get her warm and do what you can... I'll wait."

"Your help could not be more appreciated at this time." Neyeeva spoke to the draenei, as she picked up the bag, pulling out the blankets.

Peri smiled and winked as she pointed a finger in the air. "Yes well, I am rather punctual, aren't I?" she stated mischievously.

Eli helped Neyeeva cover Xaneria with the blankets. "Punctual?" she asked. "Had we set a time?" Neyeeva could not herself as her lips curled in a slight smile over the comment.

"You little..." Peris grimaced but paused, getting a stern look. "Regardless, I suppose its good I came earlier than planned. If I had waited around... Knight Riversong... your guild master would like to visit... sadly I had to be rude and leave before the appointed meeting time in Darnassus. I felt.. it would be rude to lead her here without the approval of the both of you. She seems to not quite grasp the severity of this situation."

Neyeeva frowned at that the thought. "She wouldn't. She can be very naive at times." She spoke truthfully of her friend and leader as she pulled a blanket up to Xaneria's chin.

Peris grumbled, putting a hand to her head. When she spoke her voice became more normal, her mischievous and higher pitched voice no where to be heard, as a more stern and stoic soldier stood before them. "Honestly that woman is a child... more so than myself... she doesn't seem to grasp anything. If it were me in Elizaebel's position I would not want some wishful and naive human stepping foot in here out of curiosity when my lover's life lay on the line...helplessness is already enough..." she stopped looking up, realizing she spoke aloud. "Ah.... forgive me. I was rambling."

Elizaebel sighed in annoyance. "Quite alright you seem to have a tendancy to do so.... " she said as she continued to make sure Xaneria's body was covered with the blankets.

Neyeeva spoke calmly, in response to the draenei. "Child or not I have sworn to stand by her and follow her lead, and I will do so until I am released of that vow." She waved her hand in dismissal of the subject. "Let us not talk of that now."

Peris growled a bit gritting her teeth at the demon hunter's comment. "You.... are not one to talk Fenris... your emotions are more like a compressed bread roll!"

Neyeeva simply ignored the continueing comments as she ground the fireleaf into a fine powder with a mortar and pestal. She then took a bowl filled with water from the underground springs of the dens, mixing the powder into it.

Elizaebel smirked, "Forgive me for not being weak enough to let my emotions or urges get the best of me." She bowed mockingly.

Peris raised a brow. "Vows huh... such a contradictive group... Well," she looked over at the chilled body, "I wonder... If I had brought Nodika along... " she thought aloud before she snapped around. "You know... thats your biggest issue... keeping everything inside... how are we to believe you even have emotions huh? You ancient meat shield! Honestly," she continued as she crossed her arms, "its hard to believe you care about anything..."

Neyeeva interjected quietly when the powder and water was mixed thoroughly. She spoke to Eli, instructing her, "Raise her up, I need to get this down her throat."

Eli a knelt above Xaneria, lifting her gently and caringly as she held the druid's limp form upright.

Peris sighed heavily watching the two. She lowered her voice as like a pouting child would. "However, it shows... in your actions... we just all can't be as solid as you."

Neyeeva put the bowl to Xaneria's lips, gently prying her mouth open as she slowly began pooring the liquid down the unconscious druid's throat. Xaneria's lips separated, allowing the liquid to touch the back of her throat and glide its way into her body. Suddenly she began to cough harshly from the extreme intake, a huge chill overcame her body sending her into a shivering jolt before relaxing, the color slightly returning to her lips.

"Do you have the idol?" Neyeeva asked the draenei as she removed the bowl to allow the coughing spasms to take place. She then returned to pooring the liquid slowly into Xaneria's mouth.

Peris nodded. "Ah, yes. I want you to know.. this is a bit stronger than the last object. Nodika put a lot of time, effort and energy into finishing it in a timely and efficient matter. She was exhausted when through, so don't break this one." she smirks removing the tiny idol from her pouch, no bigger than the palm of her hand. "I woudln't be suprised if she reinforced it with some of her shaman know-how." she said as she extended the item to the pair."

Elizaebel merely glanced at it as she continued to hold Xaneria upright.

Neyeeva took the idol as she removed the now empty bowl from Xaneria's mouth, then nodded to Eli in a hopeful manner. "Thankyou, and Nodika especially." she told the draenei.

Elizaebel layed Xaneria back down slowly as she stood. "Yes, tell her after this ordeal I'll be sure to pay a visit."

Peris took a breath and rubbed her eyes. "Well, I have brought more food and," she sighed at the grattitude then continued, "blankets, clothing and such. I wish there was more I could offer but at this point... I dont think I can do much more for you... I'm sure once she is finished with Chidorie she will be pleased to see her old companions face." she grumbled, "I guess."

Neyeeva sighed in defeat of her own limited knowledge as she looked down to the idol within her hand. "I must admit I do not know what to do with this."

Eli sighed, deciding it better not to ask for the time being.

Peris narrowed her eyes as if not carring then laughed. "Put it between them. Their bodies should do the rest. It is merely there to ward off so much damage from the dream, to alliviate this "mind over matter" factor."

Neyeeva nodded as she turned to do as directed. She walked between the bodies of Ailac and Xaneria, placing the tiny thing between the two, with the writhing massing coils of nightmare that connected them.

Peris motioned a hand as a light like bubble surrounded the young druid, soft transparent wings wrapped around her, blocking the lashing of the dark tendrils from Neyeeva's form. The tendrils bounced from the protection form as others reached out to the warrior still in range, gripping slowly around the wrist of Xaneria. Peris stepped back slightly, a light surrounding her own body in a whirl.

Elizaebel's body seemed blurry for a second as she caught the tendril. A flame appeared in her hand burning it. "What wer we supposed to do with these again?"

Peris grinned as she said, "Try not to get eaten, I suppose." She raised a hand lighting a light fire at the tendrils around Xan's wrist, the idol starting to glow brightly and push back the darkness with a natural light.

Neyeeva stepped back from the corruption as she answered, "Something like that."

Peris yawned. "At least your job isn't too boring..."

"Few and far inbetween..." Eli said as she stepped back, "not the least enjoyable considering..."

Peris lowered her eyes for a moment as she put a steady hand on Elizaebel's shoulders, looking her in the eyes without a single word then walked to the doorway. "Well, for now... I need to know what you would have me do with Lionheart. She wishes to come here, and speaks nonsense of the light purging and healing them."

Neyeeva sighed in some aggitation of her leader's ignorance. "I must ask you then to relay to her that she would do best to stay out of things which she does not comprehend. Remind her that what we are dealing with is no scourge, by far. But before you go..." Neyeeva quickly began to rummage through her own pack, then pulled out a folded letter, the message she was hopping to get to Danaric, "I must ask you to deliver this to some one."

Peris nodded and with no hesistation soke, "Alright."

Neyeeva held out the letter to Peris. "His name is Danaric Bowman, you will most likely find him in the park of Stormwind." she explained to the draenei.

"A night elf then?" Peris inquired.

"Yes."

Peris reached out as she took the letter, turning a nob on her wrist. The action seperated a compartment in her gauntles. She set the letter there. As she closed the compartment she answered with a sigh, "I will find him before I return home tonight then, Knight Riversong." She then pulled her hooves together and bowed respectfully. "At your wish."

"I am indebted to you." she spoke in gratitude as she bowed to Peris with thanks.

Peris shook her hand and grinned. "Not really. Nothing is owed for having a servant do their duties. Think nothing of it."

Neyeeva simply nodded.

"Well then... " Peris began as she stepped to the entrance, "If there is nothing else... I should leave you two to rest a bit. Seems she is warming up and calming down now." She said as she pointed to the druid's body lying on the ground.
Elizaebel nodde to the draenei and wave a hand to her. "Travel well, and thank you again."

Neyeeva smiled with another nod to the draenei, truelly thankful for her assistance.

"Ah before I go... " Peris said as she dropped a little box that spread itself into a tiny mechanical squirrel, no bigger than four inches in height, "Keep Peenut, incase you need something of me sooner. Seems I will be on the move quite a bit." She moved from the doorway taking her exit as she began to vanish up the tunnels.

Neyeeva raised her brow at the little machine in shock and some mild curiosity.

"Peenut?" Eli shook her head. "She still has much growing up to do..."

And the Agony Remained

Cenias swam upstream, his gills moved while water rushed past him, in taking water automatically, despite his lack of needing air. Even here, in the stream that runs down from the mountain, I can feel the corruption of the Nightmare growing. The air, the water, the grass, the trees… It doesn’t taste as it used to. The creature glided onwards, moving at un unnatural speed while trees and hills rushed past him. The moon descended, then sun rose, set again, and again the moon dominated the ceiling of the dream. Time meant nothing, gravity, form, all that mattered was the Dream. The horned fish leapt from the water, a hot blaze streaked the sky while it hung in the air for a moment as the sun passed furiously across the sky, a year passed, a tree grew, went through seasons, and shed its leaves. The fish landed back in the water, dipping in while ripples flowed inwards to the surface.

Something happened, and the fish stopped swimming. It was subtle, like the missing of a single note in a complex melody that only the musician noticed. Cenias made his way to the surface of the water again, fins stretched, webbing into one another, forming claws as a bat like creature grabbed the surface of the water as if it were solid, and pulled itself out. The creature stood on the water, and the leathery wings finished forming, then sprouted feathers. Hooves pushed off the glassy surface of the suddenly still stream, a hippogryph took flight.

The intelligent creature soared over the sky, keen eyes scanning the ground, they narrowed, finding their prey. A slim, pale figure walked the surface of the forest. It’s figures were elven, but it’s flesh almost human in colour. The figure looked about itself, grinning wildly, while the hippogryph landed before it. The Sin’dorei looked at the magestic beast, still smiling. “This place… Is magnificent!” he laughed, happily, holding his hands out at his sides. The hippogryph cocked it’s head sideways, then stretched it forward. You, are aware of where you are, are you not?

“Oh yes, you must be a gaurdian of this place, aren’t you?” The being asked. You will leave now. Awaken, child, and return to your world. This is not your home, and neither is it a place for you to bring your corrupted addictions. There is nothing here for you to steal. The Blood Elf frowned, turning away from Cenias and touching the bark of a tree. “No, not until I have a taste…”

The bird pruned its feathers. If it will allow you to leave on your own accord, child of blood, then do so. The thin figure furrowed its brows at the words of the guardian, and placed it’s hand flat against the tree, breathing in sharply. A pulse of magic rippled, tiny, insignificant, and a single drop of water left the endless ocean of the dream. The Blood Elf released the tree, immediately, stumbling back wards. His legs quivered beneath him, his breath coming shakily, a trembling hand came to his nose, touching it, then looking at the black ink like substance that flowed freely from it. A heartbeat, and the ink dribbled from his long slender ears. Screaming the figure tumbled over, grabbing his insides, tearing his shirt off and clawing at the maggots writhing beneath his skin. Blackness poured from his mouth as he vomited onto the soil.

The bird pruned itself, the moon sank in the wrong direction.

Roots absorbed the soil as one of the trees became taken by the Nightmare. Living wood died, was reborn, and died again, in agony the branch wrapped around the slender figure before it, constricting it to the point of breaking. The guardian stood on his hind legs, stepping forwards. Muscle tendons rippled over his body, forming harder than the stone the dwarves and men exhumed from the deepest mountains, claws like deadly blades extended from muscle as Cenias assumed his true form, following Ursa. The bear swung a single, mighty paw towards the middle of the corrupted tree, the trunk exploded on impact, hunks of wood and slivers spraying in all directions. The Blood elf collapsed, gasping, at the feet of the guardian who resumed the shape of a Keldorei.

Cenias looked down, his figure a silhouette, eyes glowing in the darkness. If we were to meet in the reality of Azeroth, I would take your life in my hands, and extinguish it. But not in this reality, little child of blood. Here I am your guardian, here I take your life in my hands, and shelter it, sparing it. I will see you safely home. Tell your people what will happen if they come seeking power here again. He placed his hand on the forehead of the quivering, frail elf at his feet. The Sin’dorei nodded weakly, and vanished from the dream.

The guardian sighed, and placed his hands on the ground, rubbing out the miniscule corruption that remained. A breeze carried through the gale, and Cenias traveled along it. The Stag galloped, keeping pace with the breeze, and with it’s own sound. It will return, it always will. And so will more after him. The children of blood have no boundaries as to what they will siphon to quench their thirst. How many more years will I serve before I will see the last of their kind? How many more years will I be permitted to serve without Hyjal? I am still childless, perhaps it is time to find a third mate in order to birth a child to carry on the work of Ysera…

The stag stumbled in the woods suddenly; it’s horns shattering as it careened into the ground, becoming tangled in the undergrowth. Black tendrils crept around the shuddering beasts body, sewing it into the ground while the creature thrashed and kicked wildly.

Cenias winced, opening his eyes, he stirred in his nakedness, a thin layer of moss covering him. Tanya placed a hand on his chest, her hand caressing the muscular skin and moving to his bare shoulders. The female Keldorei was beautiful, her long blue hair flowed down her body, whirled and strewn about without loosing any of its grace. She propped herself with her free elbow, red claw lines traced down her face, a tattoo symbolizing ferocity, she smiled.
“You know, I do not think you have ever told me, love…” Cenias looked up to her, replying.
“Ask, Tanya, and I will tell you whatever your heart desires.” She smiled at the response, and kissed him, lightly.
“Why do your shoulders shed with the changing of the seasons?” she asked, drawing a circle on his chest with a single finger.

Cenias exhaled, looking up the ceiling of a cloudless starry night.
“The same reason as to why the stag sheds his antlers after mating season, and the same reason a tree looses its leaves in the fall,” he replied, reaching up and touching her face. He brushed a stray strand of hair from her eyes. The mates smiled at one another, and in their secret grove embraced. A dry twig snapped, and the female’s head darted off to the woods. The male attempted to sit up, but the female pressed her hand flat on his chest, forcing his sternum to collapse his lungs like an animal being suppressed.
“No,” she snapped, her tone dominant. “You. Stay.” In a smooth motion, she slipped from the moss bedding, clothing her nakedness and taking up a glaive. Weak and helpless, the male watched his mate creep like a shadow among the trees, and waited for her to come back.

This is…

Years passed, the two of them grew together, becoming more and more steadfast in their duties, sharing the time of his awakenings and relishing in one another. He fought corruption in one reality, while she battled beasts and demons in another. Both guarded, both were protectors and warriors. Both knew that if when their time to meet came, and one did not arrive, then no explanation was needed.

I don’t want to see this.

Cenias watched through the dream, watched the horrendous battle along side a younger, but still mature druid. Arcane wielding dragons battled against the ferocious female warriors, and numbers fell from both sides. Cenias prepared to wake when the younger druid cried out, suddenly, and faded as two sentries were burned in arcane flames. Ailac shirked his responsibilities, perhaps by accident, perhaps he was shocked out by the sense of loss of his family members. In the end, he left early.

Why am I seeing this?

And so one stayed behind.

Stop, I don’t want to watch.

He begged and pleaded with his shan’do, but was reprimanded harshly for even considering leaving while now bearing a double burden. And so he skipped a cycle of awakening. And so he watched. From his cage he watched her wait, watched her wait longer. He watched her weep, he watched her strengthen her conviction, he watched her press onwards. He watched her live, he watched her finish grieving, he watched her meet another. He howled in rage while he brushed the locks from her face, and wept in bitterness and agony when she took him in their grove.

Please, no more… no more.

And then Ailac returned.

He dreamed of wrapping his hands around the younger druids throat, he dreamed of tearing out his windpipe with his own fangs. He dreamed of more and more ways he could do it, although more and more slowly. But when he looked into the other males amber eyes, and saw the same pain of loss…

Why wont you stop.

He chastised him for shirking his responsibilities, severely, and swallowed his agony. And he too, strengthened his conviction and moved on. The Druids became close, and fell into the same sleep cycle. A secret hatred never known was laid to rest. There came another, Nadoria, she was small and more lithe than Tanya, her hair was almost a light purple tinge. She was timid for a female, making her rather rare.

Not this, anything but this.

The war horn of Cenarius blew, and the Druids awoke. They fought alongside the females, and finally at Hyjal. Nordrassil splintered, bursting.

NO.

Cenias gnashed his teeth in bitter agony when he found Nadoria impaled by one of the splinters. A final reminder, a final casualty, a final blow. A final defeat.

…

Another druid remained asleep, unaware of the battle, unheeding of the horn. Ailac slumbered, wrapped in a quiet blanket of enveloping corruption.

He lost his mate in the battle too. I am not the only one who suffered.

Did she? Or did you tell him that to shield him from the truth of her leaving, and you being forced to care for his starving body in the barrows for the years that followed.

No, she died.

Liar.

The stag kicked furiously against the black, writhing worms. The kicking got weaker. The sun rose, and passed down again. The seasons changed. The hatred and the agony remained.

Frantic Torment: Betrayl

Anything...anyone...selfishly, everything for only h-

Tears slid their way down Xaneria's face, to the corner of her lips. A thin, yet large hand brushed over her eyes, wiping the tears from her face.

"Xaneria. What troubles you in your slumber?"

Quickly, Xaneria's eyes jolted open at the words, focus coming into play. There before her was a tall, thin and toned warlock, with long blonde hair and dark blue eyes, deep black rimming them. She sneered and slapped away his hand abruptly.

"Why... I am fine!" Xaneria stood fast and moved from the chair.

Once again the dream torments me. This... is truly sickening. I know its not real, however the smells and sights, make it hard to argue... Xaneria raised a hand to her lips and sighed. And the fear of the pain, once I exit the nightmare... I am such a coward.

"Xaneria." Quickly, she turned, this druid looking more befitting in the warlock drabs, narrowed her green and blue eyes to the male warlock and sneered.

"Eldamari. It would be best you leave me be. I will be leaving the castle now."

"Without her?" Eldamari moved a hand to motion, in the back of the room was Zalenah.

Xaneria's eyes grew wide for a moment and then turned away, as if looking at an unbearable sight. Who was that?! That wasn't her matron, by far. This woman; this creature who betrayed everything and led her to this place. Her loyalty had led Xaneria down the wrong path and left her often questioning her own sanity and common sense. She peered from the corner at her eyes at this disguised druid.

Zalenah was normally a tall, sturdy and dark skinned Kal'dorei, with flowing midnight blue hair that shimmered in the moonlight as if the sky had fallen to her. Xaneria remembered eyes like stars, sparkling with passion and grace, gentle love and understanding, once a part of this woman, now hidden behind the mask. When Nightbreeze was strong, when Lord Larimore was alive, Zalenah was powerful and steady, always showing nothing but her power and prowess to do what was best for the people and the clan. Slowly, darkness began to seep into her ears like whisperes from a tainted butterfly and led the Matron astray. Yet all of this could have been forgiven until the final act.

Larimore, proud, true and kind, generous and loving without fault had passed at the wrath gates. Not in the manner the Nightmare forced upon the lone druid, but honorably. Honorable as he always was, so were the last moments of his sword and shield buying time for his loved ones to escape the plague. Yet, his soul could not leave the grieving matron and the whisp clung to her like a child. A true demonstration of his devotion to her, he followed her everywhere. The grieving matron was weak, and couldn't take it. The pain of loss, the fear of being alone and the memories brought about by the child who looked just like her father. Xaneria wept a tear in the back of her mind.

It was only after much time had passed, and Xaneria would never tell another soul this, not even Elizabel, that Zalenah asked Eldamari to entrap the wandering soul and kill the love child of her lord and matron. Disgusting and distasteful treachery that once known, shattered the path Xaneria followed. Yet here in this castle now, those moments had not occurred. This was a dream, a living memory of her past and Xaneria grew sick from just the sight. Behind her, the gaze of the tall, brave and devastated Tauren kept close watch on her. She could feel his eyes devouring her body and soul slowly as always in his presence and wiped the sweat from her brow, turning quickly, her words harsh and cold as the night she retrieved her Lord's soul.

"Keep the traitorous wench. I shall not return. One of her blood using magic to disguise herself as a mana-addicted mongrel... NOONE wishes to be this!" Fast as her feet could carry her, Xaneria ran from the castle and out the garden gates. Making her way into the ghost lands in haste, and running until her mind caught up with her body, she fled.

The Plaguelands.

Finally catching her breath, Xaneria stopped. She had started running and her feet didn't stop. An hour? Maybe more she ran and ran until she reached this point. Looking down, she grew angry with her appearance.

This filth, I ran from so many years ago, and now I return to it for what?! For her!? WHY!? Why was I so naieve to follow her, when I should have been with Elizabel...

Elizabel was healing, her memories lost and forced back. Xaneria's heart broke thinking back on it once more. After spending hours of the day trying to heal the wounds and infections sustained on the warrior, Xaneria had felt she almost reached her limit, yet Elizabel awoke when she was away and left without a word. The warrior was later found in Shattarath City... and Xaneria was show the reality.

"Who are you?" The warriors face was blank and cold, as it was the first time they met. Xaneria's heart sunk deep into her chest.

Changing her clothing and wiping the magic from her face, Xaneria pushed back her short, platinum hair and took in a deep breath, the tattoos returning to her skin, watching the sky. She never wanted to return, not even in her own dreams... to this place, that castle.

Cold.

Suddenly, a dark feeling overtook the area, the air growing cold and thick, like breathing ice. Darkness swirled around the area, coming together in a point and breaking open a door from which Chidorie stepped forth, her eyes darkened and filled with a sadistic pleasure. Reaching up to her back quietly, Chidorie pulled the sword from her back, slowly allowing the metal to grind against her armor as it moved forward. A twisted smirk crossed the Death Knight's lips, moving slightly from the gate. Deep blue eyes rest in the darkness, glowing brightly from a shadowed figure.

"You again..." Xaneria grimaced, the aggitation in her heart hitting her like a wave. "Following me? Even here..." She sighed, as if spitting to the side.

"Even here?" The Death Knight tilted her head and then laughed it off, her grin growing as the air became even colder, the mist coming not from Chidorie but rather the dark figure in the gate. "I have my very special reason for being here this time."

"I'm sure you do." Xaneria grimaced, looking behind Chidorie towards the eyes from the death gate. The wind lifted about the area and brought a strange smell to her senses. Her eyes slowly drifted close to the scent taking it in.

Earth and bone, bloodless flesh, and the warm, soft scent of brimstone, metal and oils. The fragrence is very gentle, and warm, like a smoking wood branch chasing the taste of metallic dust and smoldering smoke down my lungs. This familiar scent is dampened by the smell of rott and death. Even in this dream world my senses are heightened, everything seems so real that tears are coming to my eyes, and my body is trembling as the flesh is heated. Xaneria sighed, and bit her bottom lip, dropping the treacherous guise to the ground. Chidorie has always carried that warm, soft wood scent like her aunt, but this... does being near this child, even in my dreams really incite my thoughts of her? My direction and sanity really is at risk in this world if I don't control it...

"I'm getting sick of you bothering me Chidorie, even in this sleeping world, your hatred haunts me so deeply. Its your goal to sour my wounds, isn't it? Just leave."

"Oh?" Chidorie smiled, letting her blade slide to the ground. "A dream, how can you be sure this is a dream? While you were away... I have changed many things."

Xaneria's eyes looked up in curious shock. Many... things? Her eyes followed Chidorie's hands towards the gate as a much larger female stepped forth, her armor blackened with hatred, the dark, terrifying helm covering every part of her, deep blue, sickenly omnious eyes glowing from under the blood stained metal. A strange feeling pulsated into Xaneria's body, almost knocking her back but regaining her composure quickly she snapped up, the anger in her gaze causing her to loose sense of reality.

Succumb... Succumb to this dream!

"That smell, its from her...." Xaneria clenched a fist around her mace, taking in a deep breath. "This is a trick... nothing...is real." Trying to convince herself of such, Xaneria shook her head, the feeling of uneasy fear and thundering saddness kept pressing harder and harder in the back of her mind, drowning out her reason.

Stepping clearly from the gate and into the light, blood shimmering from the strange female's armor, she moved in front of Chidorie, drawing a sword nearly 6 feet in length from her back and quickly swung the flat of the blade at Xaneria. The druid pulled her mace out to catch the blow. The power and weight put into the swing forced Xaneria's tiny body back, fliping back and flying fast. She reached a hand out, a light eminating from her fingertips as vines rapidly reached from the earth and took hold, stopping the druids flight and setting her to the ground. Xaneria snapped her head around at Chidorie with a hateful glare.

"So you bring other's to kill me in your place? How cowardly Chidorie!" The druid doubled over for a second, a bruise forming on her abdomen where her mace was forced against the flesh. "Can't you just attack me yourself or give u-"

Before her very eyes, the larger Death Knight vanished. Chidorie cracked a sinister grin as her eyes began to glow brighter. She lifted a finger at Xaneria in a slow manner causing the druid to turn her head. Behind her, without any knowledge of movement, the larger Death Knight appeared, slamming a fist down into her right shoulder and crushing the weaker elf into the dirt. Bones cracked upon impact and Xaneria felt her breath leap from her chest in the single moment. Her arm went completely numb in shock, the pain lasting but a moment, as she forced herself to breathe and climb back to her knees. Looking upwards at the bold and hateful death knight.

Such a malignant feeling... I can feel her hatred for me seething off of her. But...who is she and why... She is more hateful and full of spite than Chidorie...

"Ah!" Xaneria coughed into her free moving hand, her breath starting to return. "That move... is a ... warden." She coughed once more, the pain starting to sear into her shoulder, already blackening and swollen from the attack. Looking up, Xaneria watched as the woman made her way closer, listening to Chidorie laugh near hysterically, trying to speak.

"Hah! Someone you know! Haven't you figured it out yet?"

Biting down on her lip, Xaneria scoffed in Chidorie's direction as bark crawled up her skin, seemingly from nowhere, hardening the flesh about the druid's small body and compressing on the wound. She flinched, lifting a finger to the air and dropping her entire hand in front of her, a white blast creeping from the sky in a single strike down upon the brutal female before her, allowing Xaneria a moment to move back, putting distance between them. The woman reached up, her helm sizzling from the weak blast and removed it, allowing the heavy metal hit the ground.

Xaneria's eyes began to widen, tears suddenly dropping from her face without thought, quickly and silently as she looked on at the woman. The seven foot tall, and well built death knight before her, adorning her crimson-stained, black metal, gothic armor, lifted her face. The skin was dark, void of running blood and her lips were cold, nearly a violet hue that could be confused with the midnight black of the night sky. The Death Knight raised a hand ever so slowly, infront of her face, a purple light starting to crawl from the tips of her fingers. Xaneria's eyes remained fixated on the deep blackened flesh, the once silver eyes and the shimmering white hair tied back upon the woman, blade like battle markings slicing down her eyes in their traditional grace.

"Eli...zabel...How-" The air around Xaneria's throat began to choke, growing thick. Xaneria raised a hand to her throat feeling a stiffling preassure around her wind pipes. Her eyes filled with tears and fear stare on at Elizabel as she steps closer, leveling her sword and thrusting it into the druid's other shoulder.

"...horde... traitor!" The words were forced through heavy air as Elizabel forced the blade in deeper, her anger writing from her body in waves that nearly blinded Xaneria's sense, mixed with pain and blood from her wounds.

Xaneria coughed heavily, blood coming from her lips and hitting the hateful death knight's face. Her words were weak and her tears blurred her vision, rasing a hand to grip Elizabel's.

"Eli... why... is this.." She took another short breath coughing harder still. Chidorie leaned down, her face closing in on Xaneria's from behind, a hand touching the druid's shoulder.

"I told her, about what you had been doing. Helping the horde, betraying all of those people she works so hard to protect. How you even fancied a Tauren... Perhaps he has a left his mark-"

"That's a lie!" Xaneria snapped, the pain making her motion weak, her hand unable to reach the bratty Death Knight's face. "You are taking this misunder-"

The blade suddenly sinks further into Xaneria's shoulder, as if Elizabel suddenly grew angry, though her eyes were mechanical and lifeless, as if she were void of reality. Xaneria screamed at the pain, the thick pools of warm blood, dark and heavy, beginging to gather in the corner of her mouth and along her collar bone, soaking her clothes. Elizabel lifeted a fist and thrust it deep into the druid's abdomen, knocking the wind, blood and salaiva from her mouth in a gasp for air. Time almost stopped in the pain, unable to breath and starting to panic, Xaneria gently clawed at the platted hand that gripped the blade in her chest.

"I... wont stand.... agai-" She coughed harder, the breath returning slowly. "Against... her. I... have not betrayed her!"

Chidorie leaned closer, wiping the blood sadistically from Xaneria's lips and ran her finger up the druid's face, grinning in sweet pleasure from the sight.

"Oh? But you already have. She watched you walk into his castle and from it. Leaving her dead in the temple and then going about your treacherous acts." The blade pushed farther still and began to turn. "Oh... seems she still is angry about it."

"My... reasons..." Xaneria cringed, her eyesight starting to fade under the blood and tears. Chidorie laughed.

"The little flower... is wilting."

The Death Knight raises her hand, finger pressing lightly on Xaneria's forhead center, a cold air flowing into the druid's body, heavily. Xaneria felt her lips freezing and her blood slowing, as Elizabel raised her own fingers to the small elf's head and followed the motions of her niece. In a quiet moment of self-wallowing defeat she dropped her head, the tears starting to freeze as they rushed from her eyes, icing over her sight. Her hand, not once removed from Elizabel's grip on the hilt of the sword, tugged lightly. Everything was growing cold, and the pain was too much for Xaneria to think past.

Why is this happening? Where is this place again? There was something I had to do... someone I want to see, when I wake... from this... nightmare.

A cold air pushed from Xaneria's body on the dirt floors of the dens as blood ran from her lips, her body coughing harshly and cringing. It shook once, twice even, as her color began to fade. Xaneria's lips grew darker in color, as if her body was freezing, icy to the touch, the thick blood trickling down to the ground, her breathes slowing.