Death Never Dies

by Milton Garby

  He frowned. "I'm not entirely sure myself, but she needs some kind of check on her. She's going around throwing Old God magic around willy-nilly, that's not something we can just let happen!"

  "Need I remind you how many people we have in our own ranks, who casually summon the very monsters we're up against, more who wield their own magics, and still others that channel the power of the void and just toss it around, using it to strengthen your own teammates? To keep them going?" He frowned. "If Sara's powers are doing no harm then they aren't doing any harm. I get it, you're a paladin, Holy Light and everything, but what did it do? Make you uncomfortable I'm guessing. If that's the worst Sara's magic has done in over two decades, then I think we can wait a few more months. And that's all assuming she really is what you say! You are accusing someone of being an Old God - not using their magic, actually being one - because of a hunch. So someone's born using faceless magic. Stranger things have happened on Azeroth."

  Fardol had the decency to look embarrassed at her conclusion. "I know, I know, it sounds silly when ya put it like that. But the shoe still fits. She uses Old God magic, she resurrects the dead, and now that I think about it none of them qiraji were even thinkin' about attacking her."

  "So you have three facts, though I hesitate to call them such, that may have other causes, so you just jump straight to 'Nope, she's an Old God'. Listen I believe you when you say she has Old God magic, and all that other stuff, but this is a pretty serious claim. Not to mention we can't exactly justify removing her right now unless she starts helping the Legion." She sighed. "Look I'm not going to just drop this, alright? This is something that bears looking into, not just jumping into it and shouting 'Hey you! With the reviving powers!'. On the off chance that you're right, it's extremely important to make sure Sara doesn't experience a... we'll call it a relapse. I'll think of something Fardol. Now, is there anything else I can help you with?"

  He sighed. "No, that was it. Just please make sure Sara doesn't do anything too... horrible while she's down there. Dreadmaul and Nethergarde don't need an Old God mind controlling everyone behind their lines with the Legion pounding them at the same time."

  "I'll figure something out," she said dryly. "Now could you please leave? I wasn't lying when I said I have a lot to do, and you've just given me even more to worry about." Minnah winked, and Fardol sighed.

  "Very well. Stay safe." He turned around and left his guild leader's office.

  "Oh and Fardol?" she asked right before he could close the door. He looked back at the gnome curiously. "No going off on your own to chase after Sara. I mean it, you're in the next group to retake Wintergrasp."

  He nodded, a little hurt that she had so little trust in him, and closed the door behind him gently. Once outside he cursed quietly. He knew he was right about Sara. Fardol's gut had never led him astray before, but Minnah had made some very good points. Hell, he himself had made some good points against taking action. Sara almost certainly didn't know what she was. According to Minnah she'd been pushed into the Blasted Lands by the Alliance, so that was also going to slow her down. It'd be months, even years, before she could go to Ulduar and by then they would surely have a more permanent solution.

  The reborn Old God could wait.

  Sara

  In all honesty? It wasn't as bad as she thought it'd be.

  Sure the resurrection was monotonous and exhaustive, but it left a good burn in her mana pool from all the 'exercise'. She even made a game with herself in counting the causes of death. After a week, she counted 561 punctures, 105 decapitations, 453 dismemberments, 200 magical deaths, and twenty-five she couldn't identify. She was doing the same thing over and over, but the subtle differences in each revival made it good enough for her tastes.

  Some people had outright hilarious reactions to being brought back to life, to say nothing of her 'repeat customers'.

  Sara stood over one of her latest patients, pouring her Old God magic into her body while carefully making sure it didn't have any... adverse effects. As she did, Sara got an eyeful of the worgen's armor.

  The dead woman must've been on the front lines as a warrior, given her solid plate and the wicked two-handed sword leaning up against her cot. The cause of her death was apparent: a wide and ragged puncture hole right through her furry throat. It got harder to see more, because the miasma of death energy flowing out of her thickened, concealed her ginger fur, and then Sara finished the resurrection spell.

  Like most did, the worgen sputtered back to life and nearly fell off the bed, her hands clutching at her throat desperately. "Wha - what?! Oh, oh it's you," she said in a heavy Gilnean accent. "Oh thank the Light!"

  "Yes it's me. Now go report to your commanding officer."

  The warrior swung out of the bed and grabbed her sword. "I shall. Thank you for saving me, miss."

  As the woman walked away, Sara leaned against a wall and let out a breath. "Damn it," she said.

  "Holding up alright?" Eric asked from the opposite side of the room. Like her, he too leaned against the wall. His job was to make sure she didn't overexert herself, and to get her food and drink since she was all but shackled to the morgue.

  "I'm fine," she insisted. "And besides, with all this casting my mana pool's getting pretty deep. I'll be okay, just toss me a mana potion."

  He reached over with his right hand and opened the cabinet, took one of the vials, and tossed it across the room to her. She caught it and downed the foul medicine, placing the empty flask on a nearby cot. "Thank you," she growled, trying to wipe the taste off her mouth.

  "Another one!" someone shouted. Sara flicked her eyes to the doorway as two priests approached with a stretcher held in between them. On the stretcher was a muscular man still in his armor, with his sword and shield by his side. They brought him to one of the empty cots and placed him on it, weapons leaning against its side. With how quickly she revived people, they'd taken to bringing soldiers still in their gear so they could get right back into the action. "Can you handle him?" the lead priest asked.

  "Yes," Sara said for the umpteenth time. "Just leave him there, I'll send him back." Still in her shadowy barrier, she turned to the man and inspected him. "Go, there are more people dying right?" They nodded and, just like they had many times before, left the morgue.

  Sara turned to the dead man. He was dead to a gut wound, punctured clean through his armor. What could do something like that? Despite the grisly scene she lit up her magic and, before bringing him back, reached into his head.

  She didn't use a tremendous amount of power, so her Old God magic only glowed purple. The lines of his thoughts were laid bare before her, dark without any life, but she began moving them around just slightly. She didn't change much, just little details; less chance to panic under stress, better reaction speed, higher pain tolerance, all simple things to make him a better soldier than when he died. Once those were done, she tightened her grip on her staff and pushed her magic into him hard, finding his soul and dragging it back to his body. Before long the man sputtered back to life, better than ever.

  He looked at her and groaned. "They got me, didn't they?"

  "They did," she mentioned. "But it doesn't matter. Go give them what for, hmm?" she said with a hint of challenge.

  "I will! I'll make that wrathguard regret ever laying a hand on me!" he shouted, hopping out and grabbing his weapons before storming out.

  More priests came by, bringing bodies with them, over and over and over. Sara could keep up fairly easily, and the work was stimulating since each person she modified had ever so slightly different mental lines. It was exhaustive work, but she knew for a fact that she was making a difference. There was a very good reason she knew it for a fact, too.

  With a brief lull in people to revive, Sara closed her eyes and 'turned' her vision sideways, to a soldier she'd created a one-way telepathy link with on her first day in Nethergarde. She peered into his eyes, trickling her magic into the link and saw... and saw...

  T
he ramparts of Nethergarde Keep. Outside was the Blasted Lands, red and scorched under the baking sun to the north but to the south? A massive Forge Camp, the size of half the region and still growing, had sprung up. Twisted black and green machinery like she'd never seen before clustered the tainted ground, groaning with fel and flame as the demonic machines, some almost resembling hands reaching up from the ground, belched putrid smoke to the sky. The night elf she peeked through looked left, then he looked right. There were others by his side, manning ballistae or wielding guns and bows.

  The kaldorei she looked through hefted his bow and looked down as more demons approached in a seemingly never ending stream. Sara got a good look at the Burning Legion's armies.

  Felguards made up their brunt. Yellowish skin, horns, built like a siege engine, with enormous muscles and an even larger double-bladed axe clutched tightly in their hands. They walked in single file, shoulder to shoulder, row by row, footsteps shaking the land. The elf raised his bow and shot one in the throat, causing the felguard - armor and all - to dissolve into violet fog.

  But there were far more than felguards. Flanking them were smaller demons. Cackling imps by the armful, snorting felhounds. There were also taller demons like the enormous, winged doomguards half flying and half hovering forward, or the six armed shivarra. The demonic women stayed back and seemed content to order other forces forwards while launching shadow bolts up at them from afar.

  "Spellcasters, ready!" a voice shouted. "Aim! FIRE!"

  As the felguards approached, pandemonium erupted among the Legion forces. Icicles shot down from the sky while fire burst from beneath the land. Gray clouds formed above demons and struck down lightning, tiny shadow novas popped in their ranks, but they continued unabated and more demons closed in besides the felguards...

  Business as usual, then.

  Suddenly, Sara felt someone on her shoulder. She jerked herself out of the elf's body to see Eric grasping her, shaking her so hard his own blonde hair wobbled. "Sara? You awake?"

  She pushed him off as hard as she could, which was only enough to make him take a step back. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Hey, can you please go get me something to eat? Legion sent out another wave so I'm going to be getting a lot of patients soon."

  "... how do you know they sent out a wave?"

  "Magic," she said simply. "Now go, please?" she asked, finishing with a pout. Would he just leave already?!

  "Alright, alright. Stay safe, don't overwork yourself. I'll be back as soon as I can," Eric said before slipping out out the morgue and leaving Sara alone.

  Sara had been correct, she got a lot of patients. Too many, in fact, to keep up with. Minute after minute after minute people were brought in with their armor and weapons, laid down on the stained cots. With the additional time to modify their minds on top of resurrecting she couldn't keep up, and soon the morgue was nearly filled despite her best efforts. Then she had to cut out improving them and just resurrect the bodies to the tune of meteors smashing into the ground outside the barracks.

  Eric returned before long and Sara graciously took one of the conjured mana biscuits in hand, eating and casting at the same time.

  Like it had hundreds of times before, death magic pooled around her hands, leaving a foggy miasma within her shadowy barrier. Sara gripped the staff harder, finished up the mana biscuit, and resurrected the next soldier. The draenei gasped for breath and nearly fell out of the cot, looking up.

  "No," she whispered. "No, no no, send me back!" she pleaded, looking up at Sara. "It was... it was so beautiful, send me back," she pleaded, tearing up. The draenei reached up with a gauntlet and gripped Sara's left hand, hard.

  "Let go!" she said, trying futilely to wrench her hand out. The woman let go, but still looked at her with wide, glowing blue eyes. "You want me to send you back?" She nodded tearfully, and Sara took a moment to decide how to go about it. She worked her expression into anger. "I can't believe you would be so selfish!" The draenei recoiled as if struck. "We're here fighting off the Legion, trying to defend the world and all its innocents, and all you can think about is wanting to go back?!" Sara pointed a finger at her. "I know for a fact that there are far worse afterlives than what you experienced. What about those who've done so much wrong they'll go there? What of those trying to turn their lives around? You would have the Legion wash over the world and deny them that perfect afterlife because of YOUR selfish desires!"

  "I - "

  "That afterlife isn't going anywhere," Sara continued. "It'll be there for when you die for real. Right now though, we need your help to stop the demons. Are you going to help, or are you just going to be a selfish ass?" she snarled. Then, she took a deep breath to pretend to calm herself. "Get your weapon and report to your commanding officer."

  "Yes, yes you're right," the draenei said, swinging out of the cot and grabbing her mace. "I apologize for my moment of weakness. Thank you for reviving me."

  "Don't mention it," Sara muttered, already beginning her next resurrection.

  The next one went smoothly, as did the three after. Around that time, the rate at which people were brought in to her slowed down and Sara could begin working on the overflow, modifying them as well now that things had slowed down. A night elf, lacerations. A gnome, dismemberment. A human, fire magic. Eventually she came to one of her repeat customers.

  He was somewhat handsome, she supposed, though it was hard to tell at the moment given he was dead. His blonde hair was cut short to near baldness, and while his armor was normal white plate the helmet at his side had a few gold colors on it to indicate he was a sergeant. He seemed to have been killed by shadow magic, which meant little repairs were needed to his body. Still, he'd been in to visit her quite a few times, so... maybe he needed some more enhancements.

  Sara ran through the motions. Modify the brain links, drag the soul back, repair the body. Simple.

  Unlike the others, he didn't lurch and gasp when he came back to life. Instead he raised his gauntlet and rested it over his face. "Aaaah! Got me again, damn it!" With practiced ease he got down and stood, reclaiming his helmet, sword, and shield. "Well, thanks for the save, I gotta get back out there. Wave's repelled but still some stragglers." The nameless sergeant saluted her and charged out of the morgue.

  It took a little more than an hour, given how people were still dying and being brought to her, but Sara managed to catch up and empty the morgue. That just left her and Eric, and she certainly wasn't about to make small talk with that idiot. While reviving the trickle of soldiers was entertaining in its own way, she just wanted... more.

  So maybe she'd been lying to herself when she said it wasn't all that bad.

  The problem was it didn't feel like she was doing anything! Sure she was bringing some soldiers back to life, but how much were they really any good for? They were holding Nethergarde thanks to her, but that wasn't going to stop the Legion. The demons would never, ever stop coming unless they forced them out of Azeroth entirely. After all, they were demons. She'd studied it quite intensively.

  Energy and matter could be interchanged, and all matter on the planet was energy that had, at some point in the past, transformed into energy. Demons were similar, but instead of energy they were shadow magic turned flesh and blood within the Twisting Nether. That gave them the ability to, upon death, return to the Nether and reform in new bodies, unmarred by any injury. There were exceptions; if a demon had too much magic then it 'collapsed' upon their soul, annihilating them for good. Things like pit lords, or eredar. There was even an equation describing the cut-off point, and a separate one for dreadlords.

  The problem was the rank and file. The Legion had limitless numbers, and while Sara could revive everyone their other resources, like gunpowder and armor, were far more limited.

  It was a mistake to have come to Nethergarde. She'd have been better off going to Ulduar and searching for something, anything, that could turn the tide. Some secret weapon. A way to empower her Old God magic. Even mind controlling
the Titan Watchers. Anything would be more productive than her sitting in the Blasted Lands bringing people back just for the idiots to get themselves killed again. Maybe she'd go tune out her vision, take her mind off things.

  Sara continued to resurrect, but she turned her vision towards the night elf she'd linked to and saw...

  ... he was in some sort of tactical meeting. Apparently he was higher in authority than Sara thought. She'd lucked out, she could certainly get something valuable out of him.

  He stood in a castle, probably the one Sara wasn't in. The room was very large and very wooden, with stone only in its walls. Aside from that there were bookshelves, books, planks on the floor, on the roof, planks in general scattered around without a care, wooden stairs to a raised wooden platform with wooden railing, and a wooden table polished to a shine. On the table were maps of the surrounding area with colored thumbtacks representing various things. If Sara had to guess, the green clusters to the south were strategic Legion targets, the red were Horde forces, and blue represented the Alliance.

  Her elf stood at one end of the table, hands behind his back. There was also a grizzled old man with a blinding bald spot in the middle of his gray hair and an impressive amount of medals adorning his vest, and an empty pipe pretended to smoke in his mouth. There were some other people around too, likely lesser officers, but Sara couldn't be bothered with them.