by Milton Garby
That demon was gone forever.
Bullets fired, claws tore, and swords swung. Sara kept casting her Soul Destruction spell over and over. Larger and more powerful demons, predictably, needed more magic to erase, but with her enchanted gear her mana pool was more than deep enough to handle it. Every single spell connected and, by its very design, it was always enough to instantly destroy the demon. They killed and killed and killed, and Sara was not so humble she wouldn't claim she killed more than the others combined.
Eventually, panting from lack of breath, they arrived next to the first portal just in time for Sara to erase an emerging shivarra. They backed up against its console, which Sara spared a glance at. It was a box of blackened metal, closed tight with no buttons, levers or anything manipulable in sight.
"Smithers!" the death knight shouted. "Present for you!" From his outstretched hand a lasso of necrotic power lashed out and gripped a diminutive creature, before tugging it back to the human. He got out of the way of the incoming demon, letting it continue to fly and hit the portal right next to Sara. "Do your thing!"
"On it!" she affirmed. She reformed her barrier and let loose another shadow nova to clear out the demons, making sure it left the demon alone, and approached it.
The gan'arg was a tiny little thing, no taller than a dwarf. Its scaly skin was the color of rain clouds, as were its clothes. A hood went over its head, concealing the eyes but letting her see a bulbous nose and two underbite teeth. Then she grabbed it, either hand on opposite sides of its hand, and began.
It struggled for a moment, but then went slack and dropped its wrench as her powers went to work. Vaguely, Sara heard her guildmates fending off the Burning Legion, hurting and getting hurt and healing. But that wasn't important. All that mattered to her was rearranging the lines in the gan'arg demon's brain, practically lobotomizing it in order to make it do the only thing she needed. And then...
"Done!" she shouted, releasing another shadow nova. Then she pointed at the demon. "You! Destroy all these portals, one at a time, using the most efficient means you have available to you!" He didn't nod or do anything to acknowledge her authority, but he did walk to the console and, with a touch, opened its top to reveal a vast array of buttons and sensors.
Sara had other problems. She turned back to the fight... just in time to get a face full of carrion insects. The insects passed over her barrier and her allies, crackling with death energy. Once the swarm passed and Sproz once again continued her frantic healing, Sara caught sight of the source of the swarm.
It was a dreadlord, but... not a normal one. All along his breastplate, skin, and even his abnormally tattered wings there were bright purple lines burnt into them. His breastplate was dark purple, like her magic, and instead of claws on his hands and talons on his wings the demon had fangs that slowly dripped saliva. This was the dreadlord she had corrupted and killed in Nethergarde, and apparently he recognized her because his eyes went wide in horror.
"It's you," he breathed.
Yes it is, she thought, pooling a tremendous amount of magic into her soul destruction spell. It'd take a tremendous amount of power to instantly kill a dreadlord, but that was magic she could afford to spend. This corrupted dreadlord had to go. Goodbye.
But just before she could finish casting her spell, he gestured with a hand and Sara was...
She was...
Overcome with exhaustion. She didn't fall, but her upper body slouched over and her magic slurped back into her body. Her eyelids slammed shut and she swayed back and forth, her head buzzing with tiredness and -
Someone slapped her. She screamed and straightened up immediately, looking at the offender. He was blue and tall and a hunter, and it took a moment for her brain to connect the dots and realize it was Uztun. "What happened?" she mumbled, rubbing at an eye.
"That dreadlord put you to sleep. We killed him off, then I woke you up." He pointed up ahead, to where the gan'arg was already running to the next portal. "Come on, this one is deactivated," he said, before sprinting off the catch up with the others.
Sara joined him, sparing a glance at the teleporter. It seemed charred, and the fel light inside had extinguished. So that was one down, and two to go.
As it turned out, getting the other two portals destroyed was a relatively simple endeavor. They'd already killed most of the demons getting to the first one, and from there their various weapons and spells could easily keep the enemy at bay. The gan'arg raced ahead and sabotaged the next one. This time, Sara actually got to see the process in action. The demon pushed a few buttons, and then the blazing fel-light inside the portal's frame grew many times brighter... before fizzling out and leaving a burnt, inactive structure in its place. It must have been redirecting more of the magic to the one portal, causing it to overload. Maybe it also deactivated safety features. All that mattered was that the three portals were irrevocably damaged, and with that accomplished they ran.
The fel cannons were easily corroded and smashed, and Sara erased any demon foolish enough to chase them, even an eredar. Of course, destroying his soul cost so much magic that Sara's mouth instantly dried. So she simply dug out a mana potion and chugged it.
And then, they were in the forest. And then, they were safe. Still, they kept running until Darnall was absolutely certain they weren't being followed anymore.
"Alright, halt," he said, shifting back into his night elf form. "Everyone take a rest." She, the draenei, and the gnome, all collapsed onto various rocks, breathing heavily. The death knight of course had no problems with exhaustion, but Sara's head swam and little dots flickered in and out of her vision. That was probably the most running she had ever done in her entire life. But she did it. She was alive, and she hadn't needed to resurrect anyone thanks to Sproz's powerful healing magic. The portals were shut down. And she had permanently killed dozens of demons.
"Holy shit," she breathed, one hand on her stomach as she took deep breaths. "Holy shit I can't believe that worked!" Sara cracked a smile at Uztun. "We actually did it."
He grinned back at her, his chin tentacles shifting a bit as he did. "Indeed we did. This was your first mission yes? What do you think?"
What did she think? She thought this was amazing. The mortals had actually helped her get in there and... and she destroyed the portals. No more Legion reinforcements. Hundreds of them sent back to the nether and dozens wiped from existence by her powers over death. She hadn't died. And with the death knight there to look big and bad and intimidating, the most harm she had suffered was a sleeping spell. Anything that had tried to get close to her was blown away. They'd actually done it. They were shutting off the Legion's access into Azeroth. They were winning. How could she feel anything but ecstatic?! She said as much to him.
"I'm glad you're so pleased," Darnall interrupted. "However, we should begin moving once again. Southpoint Gate is quite a ways away."
Right, right. The return trip.
Three days there and probably four days back, now that they weren't in a hurry. Sara didn't hear the aerial teams bomb the Legion, but that was to be expected given the distance. The trip back was spent in high spirits and high altitudes, with Sara humming to herself gaily. The dirt and grime of roughing it in the woods couldn't matter less to her because she'd actually done well against the demons. She didn't even feel the urge to control and torture woodland animals, such was her joy.
They walked and walked, and eventually the third day came to an end with the sun setting and the twin moons rising. They set up camp and ate their meal. The other four made small talk with each other, but Sara turned in early, having no real desire to talk with the mortals.
That night, like all other nights since touching her old body, she dreamed of the days as an Old God. She dreamed of being chained beneath miles of dirt and unyielding stone, of sickening weakness and chains grasping her tentacles. When morning came she awoke with a start and took a few minutes to make sure she was above ground and could move her limbs.
&
nbsp; Her good mood, however, had diminished somewhat on the last day. The hills sloped down, so Sara felt like she was constantly about to trip and fall and break her neck. She just wanted to get back to Ironforge and rest, maybe even use her hearthstone, but Darnall was insistent that they do this by the book, and that meant going to inform the guards and whatnot in Southpoint about their accomplishments. Oh well. She could handle one more day of light hiking.
They didn't speak much as they descended the mountains, back to the vaguely necrotic fields of Hillsbrand. It took the entire fourth day, but eventually the trees began to thin away. But as they grew closer something seemed wrong. Southpoint Gate had been decorated in dark colors, as was typical of the forsaken. Everything was kept relatively dim. So why, even in the twilight hours, was there so much light from up ahead?
Darnall seemed to share her concerns, because he held up a hand. "Hold up," he said, and they obeyed. "Stay low and quiet," he said as they crawled forward towards the sound of crackling wood, the smell of smoke, and a brilliant flourish of both green and red light. They approached and, still hidden in the growth, peeked at the scene.
Southpoint Gate was demolished. Infernal meteors rained down from the heavens as emerald streaks too fast to track with her eyes. Wherever they impacted , a shockwave of air pushed everything away, and then the boulders pulled themselves back together and the infernal went off to destroy everything in sight. The gate was smashed to pieces, the tents and wyvern roosts were reduced to burning planks, and there was absolutely no resistance. The dwarves, the humans, the forsaken, everyone had been smashed to a pulp or burnt to a crisp. And sure, Sara could resurrect them, but... there were so many infernals. The damage was already done.
All the same, she couldn't let these infernals survive. Sara started to move forward, but Darnall gripped her shoulder and held her back. "Don't," he whispered.
"You saw what I could do in the Forge Camp," she hissed at him. "Do you really think they are going to give me difficulty?"
"Deployed infernals burn out on their own after enough time has elapsed," he said calmly, reminding her of what she already knew. "These infernals have already trashed everything of value here, they're already dead. We need to get back to Ironforge and warn the generals of what has transpired here."
She stared back at him. There were any number of arguments she could have made. She could resurrect the fallen and lessen the impact. She could work off her frustrations. She could make certain they wouldn't do more damage elsewhere, such as cause a forest fire. She could let them go back with their hearthstones and stay behind to clean up. Hell, she could kill these four and do it herself, then resurrect them later on if she felt like it. But... she was trying to make herself a better person. And she was already in enough hot water with the Alliance army. No need to dig herself deeper with some bullshit insubordination charges or something. Guilds tended to be lighter on discipline and obedience, but she didn't want to chance it, her anger burning like acid in her gut. Sara relented.
"Alright."
"Glad to have you listening to reason." He turned to the other three. With one arm he dug into his pack, and with the other the night elf gestured at them. "Hearthstone back to Ironforge, go go go." The others were already fishing out their rocks, and a moment later Darnall joined them. They teleported away one by one, and as he began to rub the stone he looked at her. "Coming?"
"Hmmph." She pulled out her own and began to trace the blue spiral. The hearthstone thrummed to life, and nature magic began to swirl around it, plasma leaves appearing and disappearing. The sensation sent ripples of nausea through her, but she held on. Darnall vanished in a series of blue spheres, leaving Sara alone.
She considered dropping her hearthstone and going at the infernals, but she didn't. Besides, already wind was whistling in her ears and her body was weightless. The magic in the little palm-sized rock flared to life and grabbed her body. With a yank she was tossed into the air. All of Azeroth spiraled away from her as she was tossed into the Great Dark Beyond. Azeroth spun a bit, and then she was falling, falling so much faster than she should have been able to, and then she crashed through layers of air and snow and rock and metal and landed in Ironforge with the wind knocked out of her.
So, that was it then. Her first mission had been a resounding success. With her aid, the Chimes of A'dal had smashed the Legion's portals and eradicated a large portion of their army. She had done everything exactly as she was supposed to with far greater success than had been expected. Sara had done everything right.
And still, they lost.
Sara
When she returned to Ironforge, Sara first went back to the armory and stored her borrowed gear. Then she spent some time talking with the guild leader alongside the others about what had transpired on her expedition. Then she left to find Leira; she still had the glyph and it felt like it was burning up her pocket. So before she went back to her room, before she did anything else, she was going to find the damn draenei and graft the piece of paper onto her soul.
In the week or so that she'd spent as part of the Chimes of A'dal, she had completely memorized the layout of the guild hall. She searched high and low, greeting the occasional passerby, but Leira was nowhere to be found. Not training, not in her room, nothing. Either she was out running, or she wasn't back from her expedition yet.
"Guess I'll just have to wait," Sara muttered to herself.
The memory of Southpoint Gate, crushed and immolated, was still prominent in her mind. It wasn't hard to guess what had happened. While they had been out on mission to smash the portals, the Legion launched their infernals. Maybe even after they did their work. After all, they'd been destroying portals instead of infernal meteors. And if the air bombardment had somehow failed...
"Damn it," she whispered, walking around the Military Ward. She made her way over to a mailbox and opened its flap, checking inside. She rifled through a few letters addressed to others before finding one actually addressed to her. A small part of her couldn't help but think 'About time' but she knew that wasn't fair. Even magical mail could take time to arrive.
With her letter in hand, she walked back into the guild hall and locked herself in her tiny little room. Sara sat by the desk, pulling out sheets of paper and a pencil, but before she went to work she opened the letter with a slice of her magic and read it.
Sara,
We are overjoyed to hear this news. We knew you were stationed in Nethergarde, and when we heard that it fell we had feared the worst. But the important thing is that you are alright. As for your father and I, we are both safe so you need not worry. The demons are getting along to Duskwood now, so we've been evacuated to Stormwind and from there, we're going to Darnassus with the night elves. Do not worry about us; we fully intend to stay well ahead of the Burning Legion. Meanwhile you stay safe yourself, you hear? Do not misunderstand, we are both proud of you for taking a stand the way you are, but do make sure you come home safe and sound. I don't think your father could handle hearing the news a second time.
I dearly wish we could come visit you and hug you and give you those little abominable yeti cookies you love so much -
"I was five years old," she muttered to herself as blood rushed to her head. Still, that did disprove the unlikely situation of the military fabricating a letter.
- and see for myself you really are alive, I suppose this letter will have to do given the circumstances. Still, earliest opportunity you are to come meet us right away, you hear? Your father and I are eager to see you.
Sincerely,
Mom
P.S. Don't listen to your mother, Sara. We all know it was the Greatfather Winter candy you liked.
"Dad!" she hissed. A moment later though, she smiled and clutched the letter to herself, something warm blossoming in her chest. Her parents were okay. They knew she was okay. They were in Darnassus. They'd get through this and she'd see them again, and she could forget all about being Yogg-Saron reborn. Everything was going to be
fine once they beat back the Legion.
Speaking of which...
Their efforts weren't working. They were going out and striking the demons, but they were striking back harder. She didn't know what the situation was like in Kalimdor or Northrend, but in the Eastern Kingdoms they were losing ground and fast. Silvermoon and Gilneas were gone. Undercity was stranded far behind enemy lines and as good as gone. Nethergarde was swallowed and it'd only be a matter of time before the demons were knocking on Stormwind's doorstep. Ironforge and Gnomeregan were going to be sandwiched and there was nothing she could do!
She'd dispensed with the idea of transforming back into a proper Old God a while ago, it was too risky. But barring that, Sara couldn't hope to stop the invasion all on her own. There was just too many of them in too many places she couldn't get to.
But she could do more.
She had to do more.
It was time to start really ramping up the Old God-ness of what she was doing, to really enjoy her power and take pride in her heritage. And she was going to start by giving herself some of her own glyphs. Nothing major, just some minor glyphs to make things easier. Luckily, she still had her pot of Old God blood.
Sara worked. And she worked and she worked and she worked, occasionally stopping to get food and such necessities. She burned away the time and her candles whittled themselves to nubs. But in that time, she'd devised some simple glyphs for her own use, with the blood of her past self used for ink. Sara grabbed the first one and brought it to her chest, then sent a shock of magic into it and began grafting it onto her magic. Sara closed her eyes and hummed to herself, her left index finger tracing the eldritch symbols she had made on the parchment. There was nothing, there was nothing...