Netherbane: Returns, Part IV

"I didn't realize the night elves had a word for something so... specific." Ary's brow furrowed as she watched the elder kaldorei perform his work.

Eraelan raised one of his own eyebrows above a flaming eye socket. He brushed away a lock of dark hair from his face and left a thin smear of blood across his cheek. "We do not. The word is not from us."

"Then where?" She knew better than to point out the night elf's new grotesque blemish. She would wait until later to tell him. When he was not in the middle of another shaping.

"It is an amalgamation of at least two different languages, likely from species that have since been subsumed into the Burning Legion. 'Shai', meaning 'reborn as demon', and 'i', indicating 'from death'." The word 'death' was underscored by a particularly violent wrenching sound from within the mass of flesh on the stone altar. Fleshshaping was a far more visceral experience than soulshaping.

"It still seems awfully specific. 'Reborn as a demon from death' just seems unwieldy." Ary tried not to turn away from the demonstration, but she found herself looking at Eraelan more often than the thing he was crafting on the table.

"It is, more accurately, 'Reborn as a demon, and has again returned from death'. The appended extra syllable indicates a resurrection. Two deaths are implied: the first, prior to the rebirth as demonkin, and the second, implying a defeat of some sort and return from said defeat. In the case of demons, it is a return from the Twisting Nether."

"...that's a mouthful."

"Yes, which you now understand is why it has been shortened to 'Shai'i'." Eraelan grinned. There was more blood on his face now: stray splatters from the altar.

Ary looked back down at the mass on the table. It had been another night elven sentinel. He had sent her out on another errand, to retrieve a body for his next project. He had not specified whether it needed to be living, or dead. She assumed--she had hoped--that dead was good enough. It had been.

While she would have retrieved a living specimen for him, had he specified, a small part of her was still thankful that she did not have to kill. This one had been another casualty of the Horde's incursion into night elven lands. Though the war was coming to a close, stray undead were still collecting bodies to be harvested. She had made sure that this one was not resurrected as a Forsaken against her will.

Ary looked away again, the thing that had once been a body becoming a little too much for her. "Is this what you did to m--to my sister?"

‘Sister’ was a misleading term for the woman who had once shared a soul with the small human. Now, that sister was the night elven demon huntress that she’d always dreamed of becoming despite being a human. They had no physicality in common and their personalities were at odds. Araatris Darkwatcher was frustrating and irreverent at best, and Araatris Valryss, the one who had kept the full name granted by their parents, could barely tolerate the other woman’s lack of staidness.

Eraelan was silent for a few moments as he worked. His response, when it came, was matter-of-fact. "Yes. Though the Sentinel that became your 'sister' did not need as much reshaping. You had drawn detailed sketches of how you imagined yourself to be, and the specimen used was already close. This one is far too large. Too tall and muscular for this project."

"And me?"

"You required no real fleshshaping. Most of my work on you was entirely on the soul."

"What about my eyes?"

Eraelan stopped and frowned, looking over to the much smaller human woman. "Your eyes?"

Ary nodded. "My eyes. I had been blinded before you...rebuilt...us. How did you repair my eyes for this body?"

The elder demon hunter chuckled before returning to his work. "Ah, yes. Perhaps I misspoke. I did do some reshaping. But your eyes were easy enough."

"How did you know what color to use?"

Another wet crunching sound prefixed Eraelan's response. "I have a good memory."

"I see..."

A loud, single slap made Ary shift her attention back to the table. A mass of bloody remnants had hit the floor to the side of the altar, and Eraelan was wiping the gore from his hands on a soaked cloth. "Now we shift to the more difficult part."

“And what would that be?”

“Reinserting the soul,” Eraelan answered as he stepped over to a rough hewn wooden workbench laden with vials, crystals, and other instruments of his craft. “I do not know if she is going to be willing.”

“If unwilling, why would you even consider bringing her back?” Ary frowned. “Wouldn’t that be too much trouble?”

Eraelan paused a moment and glanced back over his shoulder—a latent habit from when he had eyes. “Because her work remains unfinished, as does her training.”

“She died, master.” Ary’s voice was caught between protest and pleading, but gave credit to neither. She cleared her throat and tried again. “She died. Should that not mean her release?”

“She became a demon, much like those who walk our path. Her soul will never be released from that curse unless it is properly cleansed.”

“So, you’re doing this so she can be cleansed?”

“No,” Eraelan turned back around with a vibrant teal crystal in his hands. He cradled it with a bit more care than soul chambers of the past. “I am doing it so she can have the opportunity to choose.”

“I see...”

“Sometimes, child,” Eraelan kept his eyeless attention focused on the crystal and the swirling energies inside. “I truly wonder if you do.”

Ary frowned at the veiled insult but did not retort. She merely watched Eraelan as he began to speak in the cant of his shaping rituals. There was almost a melody to it--a fusion of the vulgar tongue of demons and the flowery language of the night elves. There was an odd symmetry in the verse, a balance between beauty and ugliness that embodied the core of Eraelan's work. 

Tharion Greyseer's folly was wanting to embrace and underscore the beauty--the honor and integrity of the sacrifice--without acknowledging the horror of the path. It had taken her a while to come close to understanding it, herself, but the curse that had shredded her soul into splinters had given her a taste of that horror. Eraelan's work putting her soul back together, on the other hand, had given her the full experience.

And now she was witnessing him do it again to the mass of reshaped flesh on the altar. In mere moments, it would be transformed into another living being--an entity brought back from death but not as undead. The process circumvented that accursed state entirely. It was a small blessing. 

Eraelan's chant ceased, and he placed the crystal over the breast of the lifeless body in front of them both. He spoke his next command with clarity and purpose.

"Return, Elaia Shaillan. Your work remains unfinished."

* * * 

After weeks--perhaps months, as Ary didn’t bother tracking time on the commandeered Legion ship--the small, red-headed human woman had returned home. In a grander sense, that meant Azeroth, but Ary mostly meant Ashenvale.

She wiggled her bare feet in the grass, the soft ground accepting her like an old friend. The woman lingered outside the overgrown entrance to Eraelan’s hovel, trying to collect her thoughts. It was Eraelan’s hovel. It would never be their hovel no matter how much she thought of it as her home, too. Nor would sharing his bed make her his equal.

Though, he now had Elaia. Ary fought a grimace from forming on her features. Had she been replaced? Not only had she been away for far too long, but she would never be able to match a night elven demon huntress for physical prowess. That had been proven even before she and her sister had been made into their current forms. She’d been excellent, but only for a human.

A curse by an eredar named Shazadi had torn the demon huntress’s soul into two. Broken mentally, Araatris had made a fatal mistake that left her on death’s door. Rephaia, a draenei, had been able to repair the body, but Tharion had realized that the damage to her soul was beyond his ability and had taken her to his former teacher, Eraelan Netherbane. 

Ary still did not know what the Greyseer had promised to Eraelan for his assistance, but the elder demon hunter had repaired her soul, splitting it into two distinct entities. Araatris Darkwatcher, Ary’s so-called sister, was built from the remnants of her bound demon soul and had been placed into the body of a dead night elven sentinel. Ary, bereft of anything more than the remnants of her demonic powers, had remained in the weakened human body. Knowing what she’d lost and what the other Araatris had gained, Ary had cursed her body and focused on the one thing that still seemed to respond to her: shadow magic.

It was that magic that allowed her to enter other people’s minds, giving her the opportunity to injure or control them, and, in some cases, create a more permanent bond. The link she and Eraelan shared was one of these bonds. The elder demon hunter had known the moment she returned to Azeroth and, while no words had passed through their mental bridge, there was an essence of irritation. She had kept him waiting too long. 

Well, there was no sense putting off the inevitable.

Ary entered through the greenery that hid the small camp from sight. Her blue-grey eyes scanned the area and found Elaia first, sitting with one knee up and an arm wrapped around it. The night elven woman seemed disinterested in Ary’s arrival and even less interested in Eraelan’s work. 

Ary's gaze flicked to the demon hunter, who was bent over his work table and sorting through various notes and crystals.

“I have returned, master.” Ary dropped her backpack and tugged off the iron halo behind her head, setting it atop the bag. The piece was a thin, circular semi-ring of metal with a crystal braced in the center. The artifact was created by Eraelan as a way to suppress the whispers from the void, but she needed no such protection here. When she rose, Eraelan’s gaze rested upon her. Demon hunters didn’t see in the traditional sense, but his burning eyes held hers just as surely.

Eraelan crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Yes, you have. Where have you been, child?”

She hated being questioned by him, but Ary didn’t bother to scowl. His use of ‘child’ was a purposeful reminder of their age difference. At nearly thirty, she could never compare to his several millennia of survival. Even if she allowed herself to grow old, she would always be a ‘child’ to him. Regardless, she refused to let the moniker bother her, accepting it as the closest Eraelan would even come to a term of endearment. It meant that the rare times he said her name that the young woman took special attention.

Knowing Eraelan still waited for her answer, Ary replied. “My bodyguard, Vasedra, was taken captive off-world. I left to assist.”

“You rescued her, your ‘Blade’.” Eraelan's statement was not a question, but the tone of his voice was underpinned by amused disbelief. His eyeless gaze shifted to Elaia for a brief moment before returning to Ary .

Ary confirmed anyway, “Yes, with the assistance of a few others.” 

He frowned, brow furrowing, “And where is she now?”

The young woman grimaced. Vasedra had not come when Ary had chosen to return. Then again, the void knight had never gotten along with Eraelan, and Vasedra had already known where Ary intended to go when they landed. 

“She is indisposed elsewhere.” She was, in fact, dealing with cultists who had taken over the vessel she called home, and had no desire to deal with Eraelan before cleaning her house. Ary, wanting to avoid the noise and chaos of the cleansing, had taken her felhounds and left Vasedra to her task. Being without the woman made Ary feel vulnerable, as Vasedra had always been a reliable bodyguard--a weapon against threats more so than a shield. Her protective aggression had earned her the title of ‘Blade’, and the appellation stuck. “And my place is here.”

At that admission, Eraelan nodded. The demon hunter regarded the discarded halo and gestured for Ary to bring it to him. As she did, he asked. “Even still. You did not return here immediately. Why?”

She leaned over and snagged the metallic ring from its place atop her bag. The gem in its center rested against a dark blue-grey fabric that stretched across the halo. The cloth was  bound to the circle by more than mere thread--there was certainly some spellwork involved--and vague runes could be seen shimmering in the moonlight if you looked at it from just the right angle. 

Stepping up to the tall night elf, the shadowmancer tilted her face up to his as she set the artifact in his outstretched hand. Her fingers brushed his warm skin and lingered for the briefest of moments before she withdrew, allowing him to examine the state of his creation. The woman stayed as close as she dared as she watched him, desiring his presence more than she would have thought possible. What was it they said about absence and the heart? 

“I had a message waiting from Tharion requesting my presence at the Site of Lessons. I was curious, so I heeded his call. He’s trying to gather more to his side--those that he thinks can fight against threats other than the Legion. He asked me if I would be willing to share my expertise on the Shadow. He said something about my experience with the Void being valuable. I agreed.”

Elaia turned her head to regard the human for a moment, but remained silent. Her felflame eyes, currently uncovered by any sort of blindfold or covering, only studied Ary for a brief heartbeat, but her disconcerting, completely blank expression was more than enough to set the shadowmancer on edge.

“Of course he is. The Greyseer enjoys his menagerie. It is practically a zoo these days.” Eraelan snorted as he held the center gem and rotated it to examine all its angles. “Do as he requests for now and tell me what he plans.”

At Ary’s nod, Eraelan continued his study of the halo. The entire object normally hovered behind her head, its magical buffering requiring close proximity to the mind. There were no visible mounting points on any part of it, making the term ‘halo’ at least somewhat appropriate. “You’ve been pushing the limits of your tools. The crystal is cracked all the way through and the framing is bent. I am surprised that this thing is still capable of dampening the void whispers in this state.”

Ary inclined her head, her gaze flickering to the still silent demon huntress nearby. “It doesn’t at the moment. I removed it when I was absorbing massive amounts of shadow magic, but it wasn’t enough to protect the crystal. The power so close created more dissonance than it could handle.”

“Explain.” Eraelan’s tone was blunt.

“While it suppresses the voices and makes them easier to handle, it also interferes with my ability to manipulate my shadows. They are part of the voices. I don’t know if they’re a side effect or the source of the whispers, but in order to use them most fully, I have to remove the halo. While it was off, I had to siphon excess void from Vasedra. She had been placed in shackles, and the restraints, while limiting her abilities, had also allowed her power to build. In order to prevent an explosion of Void, I took that power into myself.” Ary explained.

The demon hunter reached out and grasped her chin, directing her face to his. “Your eyes were grey when you entered, but they are more purple now. Fascinating...”

“Purple?” Ary blinked. 

“You cannot play with power and stay untouched by it. Shadow or Fel, it will begin to show over time.” Eraelan raised an eyebrow as he released her. “How are the voices, child? When you were first removed from Sraath’s ship, the Umbral Eclipse was still trying to overshadow your mind.”

“The Umbral Eclipse is… melding with me. Much like a demon hunter takes on aspects of their binding, I’m taking on pieces of that damned ship. It allows for clarity in battle, but it isn’t interfering in my actual decision making as it did initially.” She pressed her lips together thoughtfully before adding, “The other voices are primarily noise. The headaches from them are manageable most days.”

The flagship of the demon lord, Sraath, the Umbral Eclipse was a sentient vessel born of an unholy union between the carcasses of countless other void ships. Derelict Legion craft had been consumed by partially destroyed warships from races long ago forgotten. The resulting amalgamation had gained a life of its own and had been under the full control of the leader of the Shadowed Sun army. It had tried to consume Ary, invading her body and assimilating parts of her mind, subsuming her consciousness into that of the greater whole. Only the efforts of the Netherbane, with Eraelan’s help, had freed her from its grasp.

But, even after its destruction, the Umbral Eclipse refused to let go.

Nodding, the elder demon hunter turned back to his table and placed the halo near a selection of other violet crystals. He moved to the left side of the table and collected a vial from a rack. The glass container was dark and opaque, and the liquid inside sloshed as he turned and held it out. “This will help with the headache, child. The dampener won’t be ready for another few days. Another crystal will need to be prepared.”

“Of course.” Ary took the vial, but didn’t drink from it immediately. Instead, she cleared her throat and asked for something else. “Master, can you remove the restrictions against the Umbral Eclipse?” 

She didn’t think he would deny her request, but Eraelan’s whims were often still a mystery. Ary hoped that such a modification would help speed the blending of the Eclipse’s voice. It was a risk, but no greater than any of the risks she had taken as a demon huntress. Binding a demon to her soul had come with similar complications. Removing the halo’s restrictions against the Eclipse’s lingering presence would allow the ship’s cold logic to speak more freely. That it would also lower the barrier against Sraath--whose caged soul she carried with her since his defeat--was merely something she would need to deal with on her own.

The demon lord had been experimenting with both shadow and fel magicks, and he had been doing it for millennia. Not only was he responsible for Ary’s kidnapping, but he was also responsible for the current state of Elaia’s soul. Elaia had been used as currency, with Eraelan having traded her broken body and spirit to the demon lord in exchange for the knowledge of both flesh- and soulshaping. Ary had only heard tales of her original return--of the fight that the Greyseer and his allies had against Elaia. She had learned the title given to the huntress only a few months ago: Shai’i.

Eraelan nodded in acknowledgment of Ary’s request and turned away. The demon hunter picked up her halo and placed it in front of him, prying away the nearly shattered gem at its center. Pieces of the thing crumbled under his forceful touch, clinking to the stone table with a sound like solid raindrops. She watched him work.

There had been no explicit dismissal, so she waited. Several minutes passed, and Ary shifted from one foot to the other, uncertain whether or not to leave. When she couldn’t stand the stillness any longer, the shadowmancer turned away and began to walk. She intended to seek out their bed for a short rest.

Eraelan spoke again, interrupting her departure. “One more thing, child.”

The woman looked over her shoulder. “Yes, master?”

“Since your bodyguard is not here, you will take Elaia as her replacement. She is your responsibility. She will be your… ‘Blade’… now.” The demon hunter’s tone was firm.

Ary wanted to protest, and the words raced to the tip of her tongue. Did he think she was too weak to continue to handle things on her own while Vasedra was away? Had she failed him somehow? Or was this a way to help Elaia recover from her own ordeal on the Umbral Eclipse? The demon huntress’s soul had been found among a plethora of others--discarded experiments left in a waste heap of mortal spirits within the heart of the vessel. Was this a punishment? Or a display of trust?

Even if the latter, Ary had no way of knowing how stable Elaia was. The implication that she was the shadowmancer’s responsibility suggested that the huntress may be more of a liability, and that would undermine any use of her as a Blade. 

Ary suppressed the rising worry before it could color her voice. "Master?"

Eraelan did not respond to the query. Instead, the other woman rose to her feet and strode toward Ary with purpose. She grabbed the human’s wrist and regarded Ary with a deep intensity. It was apparent that the huntress was examining the woman from head-to-toe. “You will come with me. Your physical training has been neglected."

The human’s gaze flickered to Eraelan, catching no recognizable expression. She then turned back to the woman, narrowing her eyes. She filled her voice with as much steel as she could muster in her weary state. "Remove your hand. I will not ask a second time."

"Your first test, then. I will not remove my hand.” Elaia's grip was firm. “You must break free."

Ary's shadows crept across the ground toward the other woman, wrapping around her legs and slithering up the night elf’s body. Release me. Her silent command pressed against the huntress's mind, attempting to force the woman to do as she wished. Against those of a weaker will, Ary’s commands were nearly irresistible. Elaia, however, felt more like a stone wall. Ary scowled.

Elaia shook her head and spoke aloud, "The Umbral Eclipse was unable to assimilate me, human. It is why I was discarded. Your psychic commands will have no effect. My mind no longer works in that manner. Try physically." 

Disappointing. Such promise and she is letting it languish. The night elf woman's thought was louder than her voice and far beyond any connection that Ary had intended to create.

The shadowmancer was used to creating these connections, first with Vasedra and later with Eraelan. Vasedra, as a wielder of the Void, was able to use the mental thread both ways to communicate with Ary. Eraelan’s proficiencies were still unclear to her, but she knew that she didn’t hear his thoughts. He allowed more of an emotional connection, wordless from him to her.  Though, he was able to receive her words without much effort.

Elaia’s thread was not solely of Ary’s creation. She was sure of it. The strength of the huntress’s inner voice was almost deafening, overbearing and oppressive. Ary had not created the connection to go both ways, it had been meant for one purpose only: command and control. It was disconcerting to have this stranger’s voice suddenly and unexpectedly in her own head. Ary’s shadows, the most likely source of her temporary bond with Elaia, retreated at her urging, shifting back to orbit around the hem of her gown. Without them, she hoped that whatever was happening between herself and this night elven woman would cease.

"I am not incapable of melee combat." Ary twisted her wrist sharply. The sudden motion broke Elaia’s grip, allowing Ary to step away.

Cleanly done, but the strength is lacking. No, the voice was still there. Weaker now, but still present.

"Then you will have no problems fighting me." Elaia’s speaking voice came at the same time as the mental one, the two statements colliding with each other.

Ary winced and moved a hand to her temple. There was a dull throbbing nestling into her head--the beginnings of another headache. Was this because she no longer had her halo? Did Elaia share a similar ability to use the void magic as a source of mental communication? Did she even realize it? The vial in Ary’s hand was seeming far more tempting now. It would dull the headache for sure, but would it silence Elaia’s intrusions?

"We will return, shan'do." Elaia said as she regarded Ary. She then turned to face Eraelan. 

The elder demon hunter had paused his work sometime during the exchange. Though he had not turned to face either of them, he had no need to do so. Any physical facing performed by a demon hunter during communication was more out of habit than actual need. He nodded.

Ary’s brow furrowed. She had been looking forward to a few hours of rest. It would have to wait, unfortunately. Instead of complaining, however, Ary nodded. There was an upswell of indignation within her, and she resolved to teach this woman just what it meant to be her Blade. If Elaia wanted to be demanding, Ary could be just as demanding in return. The frustration lines on her forehead faded as she shifted to a smile. "As she said, we will return, master."

"You will know if you are needed." Eraelan nodded again, the faint hint of his own smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He then resumed his work.

The two walked away, heading toward the satyr encampment just outside the small camp. Elaia's longer legs, still long despite her shorter stature compared to other night elves, forced Ary into a brisk pace. 

 This Vasedra must coddle her. It is strange that she was allowed to weaken this far.

Ary snapped aloud, "I am not coddled!" 

Elaia stopped and turned to face Ary. A frown played across her harsh face. “What did you say?”

“I am not coddled.” Ary’s voice was firmer now, more purposeful and less impulsive in tone. “Vasedra does not coddle me.”

“So, you can hear my thoughts? That is… unexpected.” Elaia’s face betrayed no discernable emotion at this revelation. “What am I thinking now?”

“You seem to think that I have purposefully let my body weaken.” Ary placed a hand on her hip and pointed at the night elf. “You do realize that it would most certainly be weaker compared to a demon hunter like yourself, right? With your enhanced agility and strength? My sister has that body, not me. I have made due with what martial skills I was able to acquire during my years of training under Tharion Greyseer.”

“Tharion teaches now,” Elaia smiled, as if remembering something. “I had heard that much. I will have to put his lessons to the test. See if you are a product of a skilled teacher, or merely someone who plays at the path.”

Ary growled. Even with her recent focus on the void, her muscles could remember. She may not have chosen the path of a binding since Shazadi’s curse, but, in the truest sense of the title, she was still a demon hunter. She had not forgotten. “What I do is not play.”

Elaia raised both eyebrows as if amused by the aggressive response, then her lips twitched into a smile. "We shall see, Araatris Valryss. I do believe that there is much we can learn from one another."