Part I: Forest on fire.
The crystal-clear air of the Ashevale Forest was filled with the intricate music of the night. The unending chirr of insects; occasional sound of a night bird, often an owl; sudden movements of animals both on the ground and in the tree crowns; shuffling, cracking. All of this together with the Ashenvale’s particularly dark nights could make the forest seem ominous to an eye of an outsider. Scary even. Yet for the eyes of the one slowly moving up the slope between two mighty ancient trees, darkness was not an issue. He could see perfectly just as anyone of his kin and just as any of his kin, he felt at home under the vast sea of ever-whispering leaves. In fact to his kind the night was as the day to other races of the world. To him the forest was an illustrious festival of nature’s beauty, adorned with shimmering lights of stars and fireflies and draped with the soft light of Elune, the Moon Goddess.
Kaenagorn, a young kaldorei or “night elf” as they will be called millennia later, always loved the wild outdoors of his homelands more than lively streets of any elven city. A humble herbalist, he spent most of his time in search of rare plants and only visited his hometown to sell his goods. Even his little house stood separately deeper in the thicket and rarely saw visitors apart from his regular customers. Kaenagorn new the land and usually moved swiftly and confidently, but tonight his pace was silent as he did not wish for anyone to see where he was going.
As he climbed the slope to the base of an enormous tree he saw a small yet elegant kaldorei house amidst it’s roots. Kaenagorn never knew it stood here let alone had any idea of who it belonged to. This puzzled the young elf and he stopped for a moment studying the tiny dwelling. But as he stood there frowning he heard the voice that made him discard any thought except one.
– Kae.
– Tela! – he answered with a smile and rushed to the sound of the melodic voice.
There she stood right in front of the door, the only other of his people that he could not imagine his life without - Telandris Moonbough. She was exceptionally beautiful even among the kaldorei: tall, almost as tall as Kaenagorn himself, with smooth silky skin and long hair, the colour of seawater in the moonlight. Her light gown, slit down from her hip, was made of white mageweave and revealed her long and graceful legs and slender arms. To be honest that dress revealed much more than it covered in general and was a little too frivolous even for the eccentric palaces of elven nobility. Kaenagorn was never interested in fashion though and he was simply glad to see her in this seductive attire she wore for him. He hoped she did it for him. Indeed Telandris was fairer than anyone he ever saw, yet it was unimportant to him. He loved her for her kindness to anyone in need, for her sincere and ringing laughter, for the way her eyes looked at him as he was telling her the secrets of the woods during the rare hours they could spend away from everyone else. He loved everything about her and wanted to spend the rest of his life looking into those glowing silver eyes of her.
But with each passing year that dream was more and more illusory. Telandris’ father, a high-ranked official planned a very different life for his daughter. She was young, smart, beautiful and talented. Every year she danced in the middle of the city square during one of the festivals praising Elune. Apparently she was noticed by someone very noble with very important connections. Rumors had it that she might be sent to Zin’Azshari, to serve the dazzling Queen Azshara herself - the only woman in the world more beautiful than Telandris herself, (though Kaenagorn could never imagine that). She might even become one of the Queen’s handmaidens, a fate desired by any woman in the empire. The Queen always looked benevolently at young and beautiful girls. Almost exclusively young and beautiful girls. But even so any girl would gladly trade anything for such a chance and Kaenagorn could easily understand that. That would make Telandris one of the quel’dorei, the Highborne, the highest of the elites, the rulers of the empire in the name of Azshara. That said, Telandris herself treated this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity surprisingly coldly. In a calm and indifferent voice she simply let her beloved one know that she would gladly trade the power and beauty of the Queen’s palace for the cozy and peaceful life of a humble herbalist’s hut. Kaenagorn could not believe his ears. And so did Telandris’ father. His fury was immeasurable. He never showed any love towards the “petty woodsman” courting his precious daughter but now his contempt for Kaenagorn turned into pure hatred. For almost a year he locked Tela inside his plaza and even after that he did everything to prevent the young lovers from seeing each other. Very rarely could they steal an hour our or two for themselves to hide within Ashenvale’s thickets and simply be together.
This was one of such precious moments. Tela managed to send him a message asking to come to this place and here he was, entranced by her very presence.
– Come, Kae. – she said softly, taking his hand in hers, – Before someone saw us.
– What is this pace? – he asked her as he slowly started to come back to his mind after being stunned by her image, – Who’se house is this, Tela?
She giggled silently, – It could be ours, my love, if you wished so. Now come, let’s not waste any time.
She gently pulled him towards the entrance and her smile was more flirtatious than ever, promising him much more than just talking this time. Still wary of possible shadowing, he looked around one last time before entering the house and caught a glimpse of some strange flash far away behind the trees. He could have sworn that for a split moment the skies turned emerald green. He kept looking, hoping to see another one but couldn’t see anything. And Tela pulled him even stronger now…
As they entered the only room in the house she immediately led him to the bedding. There she turned around and looked into his eyes.
– Oh Kae, my love – she whispered as her hands slid over his neck – I have waited so long for you. Let us be together at last.
He wanted to answer her, to ask if she saw that strange light on the horizon, but she silenced him with a hot passionate kiss. His own hands immediately took hold of her waist and he pulled her even closer, as if it was possible. Another kiss followed after that one. And another. And another. Yet strangely Kaenagorn could not give in to the passion as she seemed to. Ordinary he was the one to forget everything in the heat of love, but today he kept feeling tense. As if something grim was coming towards them and only he could sense it. He felt the urge to look around, seeking the source of danger as if he knew of a deadly predator lurking in the darkest shadow somewhere near them.
He looked at her again. Tela seemed completely consumed with herself and didn’t even glance at him.
– Yes! Yes, Kae, don’t waste any time. I long for you, my love.
He felt her nails burying in his skin as if she was not herself. As if she tried to forget something bad, consumed by this animal fervor. For a moment a terrible thought pierced Kaenagorn’s mind: “what if this is her last “farewell” to him?” He opened his mouth to call her name, to ask what was weighing her heart so much, but suddenly he felt her nails piercing his skin. Perplexed he looked at her face and saw a crooked grin twisting her tender face. This wasn’t right. This cannot be his Tela. Something sinister is happening, he thought.
He pulled himself from her, raising his head and was struck by terror with the sight from the little round window of the house. The forest was on fire! Emerald flames engulfed everything around the hut, burning their beloved Ashenvale to cinders. Little animals and birds caught ablaze twitched in agony as their flesh was consumed by fire. Kaenagorn heard cries of pain as he started seeing elven figures inside the inferno. The whole world around them burned!
Terrified Kaenagorn turned to Tela but saw something even more dreadful than the fiery apocalypse outside: lying on the bed, was not Tela. The impostor wasn’t even a kaldorei. She was much shorter than even an average night elf and her skin was pale pink in colour, with red wavy lines raising up her legs. Her ears were much shorter and her black hair looked tough as a thin metal wire. Her eyes were deep green and looked at Kaenagorn without even a tiny spec of compassion. But the most frightening features about the woman were the sharp crimson horns crowning her head and a pair of leathery wings of matching colour spread on the sheets under her.
Kaenagorn tried to force himself away from the monster yet she held him with unnatural strength and stuck her talons even deeper in his flesh. He noticed rows of sharp teeth and long fangs in her mouth as she started laughing demonically.
As he felt his own blood flowing from the wounds Kaenagorn started screaming.
Part II: No doubts.
Even after waking up he kept screaming for a moment or two, earning him several grim stares from the soldiers. But he was not the only one screaming. Weeps and cries of wounded came from here and there and now Kaenagorn started remembering.
He was in the camp of one of Lord Ravencrest’s armies, fighting the remnants of the demonic Burning Legion, that invaded their world with the help of the treacherous Queen Azshara, and kaldorei’s miraculous victory in this terrible war. The most fruitless victory in the history of his people, that saved their world but literally tore it asunder shattering the elven empire and the land itself.
And Tela was dead. Tortured to death by one of the Legion’s succubi. He now knew the name for the foul creature, that ruined his life and even kept torturing him in his dreams. And those dreams got even more vivid and exhausting since the ritual.
It took him a minute or two to get himself together but he finally rose from his blankets and slowly started to make his way through the camp. Most of the soldiers looked gloomy and exhausted. Though Legion’s invasion was thwarted the terrible disaster that followed after that deeply affected people. Their ancient empire, their ways of life, the very source of their power, the Well of Eternity were destroyed. To many the future seemed dark and full of uncertainty. Kaenagorn did not share their fears, to him there was no future. Nothing could ever heal the everbleeding wound in his heart, inflicted when he first saw Telandris’ mutilated body. There was no uncertainty - the future only held pain and despair. The only thing left to him was revenge: finding the one who took his love from him and subjecting her to the same torture or at least killing as many demons as he could before his own body was torn apart were the only things that mattered to him now. And for that he needed power. That is why he followed the rumors across the newly formed continent and came to this exact part of Ravencrest’s forces. All to meet the only person demons were said to fear.
– Shan’do? – he asked quietly stopping before a small canopy standing above a wooden table the likes of which military commanders used for maps and reports. This one held plenty of both but mostly it was covered with various magical and occult items.
The person he addressed raised his head from the table and turned to face Kaenagorn.
– I told you already, you can just call me “Illidan”.
Kaenagorn nodded politely. He couldn’t explain why exactly he was sticking to that traditional word for teacher, but somehow it reassured him in his aspiration to learn from his new master. Illidan Stormrage, a powerful sorcerer, brother to the hero that stopped the demonic invasion and recently… a demonhunter. All across the remnants of the elven empire people were talking of him not only defeating demons in battle but actually hunting them and turning their own power against them. There were different talks too: talks of Illidan betraying his people to serve the Legion and only rejoining his heroic brother Malfurion when it’s defeat became inevitable. Kaenagorn did not care for these rumors. These days Illidan was the demon’s deadliest foe and as long as he could train Kaenagorn to destroy the fiends, he was the only person worth following.
He stood as tall as Kaenagorn himself, yet had a much more menacing presence to him. He stood barefoot and barechested, a pair of black mageweave pants being the only clothes he wore. His skin looked all rough, scaly even, resembling that of Legion’s soldiers. His toes and fingers ended with what looked more like sharp claws than ordinary kaldorei nails. A series of complex tatoos covered his whole torso and shoulders, faintly glowing with vile green light of fel magic. Kaenagorn already got several similar tatoos himself, yet they looked fairly simple compared to Illidan’s and didn’t emanate such power. But the most prominent thing about him were his eyes, or at least the place where they were supposed to be. A black runic blindfold covered his face but even through it Kaenagorn could see the same green glow of fel only even more intense. Indeed Illidan Stormrage looked a lot like the very creatures he claimed to be hunting.
– You seem weak. – he stated looking at Kaenagorn.
– It’s alright, i just had a bad dream. I’ll be ready for the fight.
– I wasn’t talking about your health. – said Illidan without any empathy – Your soul seems to be succumbing to fel. If you don’t manage to master it soon your demon will consume you completely. Until then those dreams of your will keep getting worse.
His demon. It’s been several months of his apprenticeship before he underwent the Ritual that infected him with Legion’s fel power. Prior to that it was mostly combat training. But nowadays instead of learning to take demon’s lifes, he mostly strived no to become one.
Initially when Kaenagorn stood before the demonhunter and asked to become his apprentice, the first thing Illidan asked was whether he could fight or use magic. Kaenagorn had to admit that apart from hunting knife and bow he never held a real weapon and didn’t cast a single spell in his life. He thought that Illidan would laugh in his face before sending him off but instead Stormrage peered into his eyes with his own glowing ones.
– You’ve never fought in your life. – stated he coldly – Yet you want to fight demons. Why?
– They took the only light in my life. Without her this life is no more than agony.
For a moment Kaenagorn thought he saw Illidan’s face change with a new emotion. As if his features went softer and the glow in his eyes dimmed for a bit. But when he spoke again his voice was just as cold and harsh as ever.
– And what is your goal then?
Kaenagorn paused for a bit, then looked directly into the sinister light behind the runic cloth.
– I want to slaughter all of them – he spoke silently – until not a single one remains.
– Very well – Illidan answered after a short delay – go look for a quartermaster. Tell him I ordered to find you a weapon. Warglaives should do since you have no preference.
After that Kaenagorn spent most of his time training to wield the warglaives, one of the traditional kaldorei weapons. Sometimes he joined the soldiers in the fights against the Legion forces remaining in their world but never on the frontlines. Several times Illidan spent hours giving him special tattoos and teaching him the basics of magic and harnessing the power of fel. But then came the time of the Ritual.
It happened the night after a big fight against the demon forces right on the corpse ridden battlefield. After several hours of preparations Kaenagorn was standing in the middle of a magic circle waiting for Illidan’s instructions. Instead his master went towards a particularly huge felguard brute and after some hacking with his glaive threw a lump of flesh to his pupil’s feet. Kaenagorn looked down surprised. The piece of gray meat dripping with green demonic blood was the demon’s heart.
– Eat it. – Illidan commanded.
By this time Kaenagorn already had a general idea of how one obtains the powers needed to defeat demons, but still he could not force himself to put the vile substance in his mouth. The thing even looked poisonous. Kaenagorn could only imagine the terrible death await anyone foolish enough to consume it.
– Still you doubt. – he heard the cold voice – Still you fret. That is the difference between you and the Legion. Had they any doubts when they came to our world? Had they any when they came to your home?
These words pierced Kaenagorn’s mind. He remembered Tela, the bliss of simply being near her, the pain of knowing she is forever gone. And then he remembered her mutilated, flayed corpse. Without any further thoughts he picked up the heart of his enemy and bit into it tearing away the first chunk. The taste of it was horrendous, bet even worse was the scalding sensation the blood left in his mouth. It was as if he chugged a mug of acid. Even the skin on his hands tingled where it came in contact with the green liquid. Kaenagorn could feel every piece twitching as it went down his throat and the terrible burning soon spread to his stomach. With each swallowed piece the torture became worse and he didn’t consume even half of the heart when he finally passed out.
But there was no saving darkness. Instead there were evil tormenting visions. He once again saw Tela’s body, held the hardly recognisable corpse almost completely bereft of skin that even had scorch marks on bare meat. He saw his own hand holding the sinister lash filled with dark magic of pain and suffering. Somehow he knew that was the very same lash that flaid his love alive. He somehow knew it’s owner was still alive. He saw the whole world burning in the foul green flames that rose higher than Ashenvale’s trees, higher than mountains. He stood amidst that burning dying world as the only living creature left. He saw the limitless darkness riddled with tiny lights of distant worlds. One by one they either turned foul green or vanished whatsoever. And finally he saw the unending armies marching into a myriad of worlds, and felt the limitless power of the Legion flowing through him. A pair of deep green eyes mockingly looking a him from the darkness was the last thing he saw before waking up screaming. That was just the first time.
Part III: The Prey.
It’s been almost a month since the Ritual and since then he rarely woke up not screaming and never slept without nightmares. And now according to Illidan he was losing his own consciousness to the demonic essence within him.
– You first came to me claiming you yearn to slaughter the demons, yet now you are struggling to overcome a single one of them. – Illidan’s voice sounded as usual but Kaenagorn couldn’t help but sense the note of contempt in it.
– But this one is residing in my mind! – he answered starting to feel anger. After all it was Stormrage who allowed the corruption into his apprentice and is now mocking him for suffering the consequences.
– Exactly. – answered the demonhunter – You have every advantage. After all he is in your domain.
Saying this Illidan turned away from Kaenagorn and moved back to the table.
– A couple hours of marching and we will catch up with yet another group of Legion’s troops. They all seem to move towards the same goal. Something is drawing them north. They are always in motion yet so far we were able to overtake and finish every one of them because it is our land. We know it and we have nowhere else to go. – He gave Kaenagorn a long look – Think about it. When the fight begins I want you to stay near me on the front lines. Maybe there you will learn to fight your enemies. If not, at least you might stall some demon so that others can actually avenge our losses.
Not everything vent according to Illidan’s plan. They had to march much more than just a couple of hours and when they finally caught up with the enemy it was demons who attacked first. Realizing that the battle is inevitable they used a small portion of their forces to lure the elves deep into a ravine to a disadvantageous position. In the meantime their main force stayed hidden and then flanked the kaldorei attacking from the high ground. When the packs of felhounds rushed down the western slope followed by the mighty felguards and even several infernals the night elves became trapped between them and the eastern slope having no space to maneuver. The mighty fist of demons swiftly moved towards them intending to crush the heart of their host and methodically finish the rest later.
However Illidan and his officers somehow foresaw such event. When the attackers gained too much momentum to seize their advance, elven archers that were split from the main army beforehand and moved secretly to the top of the eastern slope took their positions sending myriads of arrows towards Legion’s soldiers. At the same time several kaldorei mages activated a spell they prepared in advance teleporting the soldiers in the middle of the ravine back, out of the demons’ way. The mighty charge went to waste when the biggest and strongest demons crashed into the ravines empty bottom, right between the two groups of elves. And while the group to the north was much smaller it included Illidan himself with several of his demonhunter apprentices. They were supposed to become a deadly hammer crushing the invaders against the anvil of main elven host.
It was the first time Kaenagorn fought so close to the frontline. After all the hard training he took he thought himself a pretty decent fighter, but compared to Illidan and his students it was nothing. He already saw some of them fighting, bet he never talked to them. They always preferred to keep distance from others and after everything he experienced himself, Kaenagorn started to understand why. Now he saw them clashing against the scariest demons fighting on par with even the most powerful of them. Kaenagorn saw their faces twisted in fury and pure madness. Some of them even smiled insanely while cutting through their enemies’ flesh. Illidans himself was even deadlier. Wherever he rushed he laid waste to enemy troops by both his blades and magic. It seemed like the scorching fel flames of infernals left no mark on him, while he evaded the felguards’ blades with grace more fitting to a dancer than a warrior. Sometimes he moved so swiftly his image blurred to Kaenagorn’s vision. Kaenagorn could not imagine how somebody so adept in magic could be just as skilled with weapons. He tried his best to follow the example. It was the chance he waited for so long: there were his enemies right before him and he had weapons in both hands to spill their blood. Yet no matter how he tried he could not match the others. Demonic presence around him spurred the fel essence within to move and churn inside his veins. He felt feverish and his movements were slow and sluggish as if he was underwater. Ofcourse to the others he seemed swift and agile. The demon’s blood and Illidan’s magic made him less vulnerable to Legions fel power. Even the blood of the demons did not burn his skin as it used to. He managed to dispatch several smaller monsters and helped the soldiers to overpower some of the bigger ones but always tried to stay close to his master.
That’s why when Illidan raised his hand towards the western slope and commanded his demonhunters to follow, Kaenagorn managed to get a glimpse of what his master pointed at. It was a massive doomguard, a powerful winged demon, the kind of which often served as Legion warlords and high-ranking officers. This particular one looked even more threatening than the ones Kaenagorn saw before. He was clad in heavy black armor decorated with skulls and glowing gems and held a pair of warglaives in his hands. Those were not very different to the ones Kaenagorn held himself but were far more sinister in appearance and burned with bright green flames. He stood at the vantage point looking down at the fight his troops were swiftly losing, but then he shouted something to his soldiers and vanished in the forest surrounding the ravine.
Illidan rushed upwards completely abandoning the battle. It looked like his feet barely touched the ground as he was quickly ascending the steep path. The soldiers could not match his pace and only his demonhunters managed to keep up.
Kaenagorn rushed after them, fully intending to help defeat the Legion’s commander, but didn’t make a hundred steps before being cut off. A big felguard he presumed dead suddenly raised to his feet before Illidan’s apprentice and let out a bellowing roar. It’s side was bleeding, bearing a mark of demonhunter’s blade, no doubt. The monster must have fallen from the wound in a middle of battle and thus was spared the finishing blow. Now however it seemed full of strength and rage as he raised his enormous two-handed battleaxe and moved towards the lonely elf before him.
Kaenagorn had no choice but to face the towering brute. He swiftly looked around: he stood alone halfway up the slope and there were no soldiers to assist him like before. The battle still raged below him and there was no hope for help from there. They were left one-on-one.
The demon lunged forward swinging his mighty weapon downwards to split his opponent. Consumed by the fel fever Kaenagorn watched the blade moving as if the seconds suddenly turned into minutes. At least his corruption brought some advantages. He glanced at the demons main hand, noticing a plate armor gauntlet covering it up to monster’s neck. His other side however was left almost completely open so Kaenagorn immediately made a decision. Never before did he think or move with such speed. A split second ahead of the weapons edge he slid to the right. The battleaxe struck the earth sending a spray of dirt and rocks in all directions and wedging firmly in the ground. Using the precious moment Kaenagorn leaped forward stepping on the demon’s forearm and jumping even higher to slice it’s neck with his glaive. At this very moment he felt triumphant as he anticipated his blade breaking demon’s skin and vanquishing his foul life forever. His mouth watered and the fever pulsating in his veins reached it’s peak. When the green blood gushed from the demon’s neck, the creature jerked back and Kaenagorn landed right before it. With a deafening cry felguard leaned forward showering it’s slayer with the foul liquid and finally fell down on before Kaenagorn managed to move away. He was struggling to free himself from the crushing weight but as more and more blood flowed onto him, it resonated with the fel within his own. He felt terrible burning - not on his skin but in his stomach. A veil of green light filled his vision and he felt as if he was falling somewhere as his consciousness slowly faded away.
A whole eternity had passed before it finally stopped and he could see again. He stood amidst a empty rock plateau that could have only exist in a nightmare. The rock was black and lifeless and looked as if it was burned in a kiln until the very memory of water and soil was scorched from it. Bladelike peaks and ledges towered around the plateau completely concealing the horizon, if there was one. The sky was a mash of colours where glowing rivers of green intertwined with shadowy purple streaks and bright red flares. There could never exist a place like this on Kalimdor. Not unless the Legion succeeded in it’s invasion.
But Kaenagorn wasn’t concerned with the view. Right in front of him there stood another felguard. At first he thought that it was the same one he just killed and they were both transported to Legion’s homeworld to finish their fight. But then he realized that this was a different one. It was smaller than the brute in the ravine and was completely naked with no wounds or scars on it’s sickly grey skin. The felguard stood in a battle stance staring into Kaenagorn’s eyes and slimy drool dripped from it’s maw as it smiled. Suddenly Kaenagorn realizes he knew this demon.
– Did you enjoy it? – it asked mockingly – Eating my heart… Now I will consume your pitiful soul!
Kaenagorn wanted to attack the creature but just the demon he was completely naked with no weapons anywhere to be seen. The only option was to run. But at that moment he saw something that he was sure wasn’t there a second before. Something that pierced his heart with pain and made him petrify.
Behind the demon’s back, a hundred steps from where it stood there was a round platform covered with skulls and burned bodies. A stone pillar stood in the middle of the platform and there chained to the pillar he saw Telandris. She was covered in blood and bruises and her beautiful white gown was torn and sullied but it was definitely her. Kaenagorn felt an icy cold sweat covering his skin as he saw a black haired winged figure of a succubus standing near the edge of the platform with lash in hand. Kaenagorn knew that these lashes were enchanted with black magic, inflicting excruciating pain even with a lightest touch. The succubus looked at him with her bright green eyes and and gave him a wide smugly smile swinging her lash back for a blow.
– What’s the matter? – asked the demon before him – Don’t like our entertainment?
With these words the lash struck Tela’s skin. She let out a deafening scream of unbearable suffering. Every part of Kaenagorn’s body, every drop of his blood trembled in terror of what was happening. Terror of being absolutely helpless to stop it. He rushed past the demon but the monster was much faster and stronger than him. He easily grabbed his arm and squeezed it crushing his wrist. Without even realizing it Kaenagorn tried to hit his enemy in the face. He aimed for the eye but demon simply shoved his hand away and grabbed his throat. Kaenagorn felt blood in his mouth as his captor slowly tightened his grip.
– We have many more like this one. – he nodded towards the execution site – And we will take even more. Because we are the Legion.
With his each phrase the succubus delivered another blow. She kept dealing more and more. Tela’s screams became a torture in itself as no living creature could cry like that. Each blow left a deep tearing on her skin and blood flowed down her beautiful legs forming a crimson pool around the pillar. Soon the whole seams of skin started coming off with each lashing.
Kaenagorn was struggling in his enemy’s hands desperately trying to free himself. He did not care that he could not breathe, he did not feel the pain in the broken wrist, he ignored the heavy pulsation of blood in his head. He didn’t care whether he would die or not. He only wished for one thing: stop Tela’s torment. Each strike seared his soul just as painfully as her body. He found himself wishing for her death. “Please let her die so that she wouldn’t endure another blow”. Kaenagorn felt himself slipping into madness.
Finally came the blow that wasn’t followed by the scream. The dreadful flayed corpse, hanging from the pillar no longer bore any resemblance to Telandris Moonbough.
Kaenagorn felt tears running down his cheeks. They burned just like everything in this cursed life of his. Both demons burst out laughing. They laughed so hard and so sincerely that Kaenagorn couldn’t help but feel that it cannot be connected to this nightmarish deed. No living thing is capable of such cruelty. It was over. Tela was dead.
That’s right, remembered Kaenagorn, Tela is dead. There is no point in living anymore. That’s why he came to his shan’do. Because he could not live on anymore. He simply existed. Yet there was something that gave meaning to his existence. Revenge. That’s right. That is why he came to Illidan. For revenge. Only a demonhunter could help him get it. A demonhunter. He came to become a demonhunter. He wanted to let them feel what they inflicted on Tela. He wanted to hunt demons…
He was no prey.
THEY WERE.
Kaenagorn opened his eyes and stared directly at the felguard. The demon stopped laughing. Elve’s face twisted by the torment a moment ago changed drastically. There was no pity or weakness, no tears or weeping. Only hatred.
Kaenagorn twisted his broken hand and grabbed the demon’s shoulder burrowing his nails into the rough grey skin. He took the claw holding his neck with his other hand and squeezed as hard as he could. Green blood showed under his finger as he felt something flowing into him. Something sinister and poisonous. But it gave him strength. The demon’s face now became a mask of fear. As his grip weakened Kaenagorn freed himself from deadly grasp. It was he who held demon now. He drained and absorbed the very essence of fel from this monster, to become an even scary one. Scary enough for them to fear. He saw his skin changing to resemble that of the felguard. He couldn’t check but he was sure that his eyes were glowing with green flames right now, just like Illidan’s. He understood now. To fight this evil you need to use it’s own weapon.
Slowly he leaned forward, moving his face closer to his enemy’s eye.
– I will hunt every one of you. – he whispered, seeing felguards eyes tremble in fear – And i will devour you all.
He opened his mouth, now filled with sharp fangs and bit into the demon’s face, tearing a chunk of flesh and enjoying the monster’s scream. He felt powerful. Fel essence rushed through his body making him invincible. He thirsted for green blood. He yearned to burn them all in green flames.
Suddenly everything stopped. He was in the darkness. The feeling of power disappeared giving place to pain in his wounds and suffocating weight of felguards body. He lied in the ravine under the body of the demon he slayed during the battle. It was almost dawn, meaning he was unconscious for at least several hours. The fighting ceased long ago and he saw campfires and moving figures atop the eastern slope. Demons don’t make campfires. His allies must have thought him dead or didn’t notice him covered with felguards body.
Slowly he freed himself from under the huge corpse. He felt his wounds but the pain didn’t bother him the way it used to. He wanted to fight more demons. Hunt them down and slaughter them one after another. He stood there for a moment listening to himself. He could still feel the demon inside him but it was just a silent whisper in the back of his skull. The demon no longer threatened Kaenagorn.
He picked up his glaives and slowly moved up towards the lights. Halfway through he met some soldiers carrying bodies from the battlefield for burials. He wondered whether they really did not notice him lying under the demon’s carcass or simply left him there because of what he is. It didn’t matter. He doesn’t need friends or acknowledgement. All he needs is to kill demons until there is no more left.
As he entered the camp he walked straight to Illidan’s tents. His master stood there looking directly where Kaenagorn came from.
– I saw you at the very bottom from up here. – he said – I take it you finally conquered your weakness. And here I thought you were already dead.
– Shan’do. – simply nodded Kaenagorn.
– It’s a shame we couldn’t catch the Legion commander. From him we could find out what is it that draws demons to the north. There was also something about those weapons he carried. But we will have time for that later. At least we now have a new demonhunter as from now on you can call yourself that. Defeating demons starts with the ones inside your head. Remember that. Tonight we will finish the wards on your chest but before that… – he stretched out his arm offering his student a small dagger – there is one more step.
Kaenagorn took the weapon in his hand. It was a strange blade. It was too short for combat and was triangular, looking more like a stake than a real dagger. A set of runes was etched on each of it’s sides but other than that Kaenagorn didn’t feel any magic from it. He looked at his master.
– What should i do? – he asked.
Illidan waved his hand towards the other demonhunters finishing a magic circle on the ground.
– Take out your eyes.
Part IV: Never again.
Eventually they managed to catch up with the demon commander and defeat him along with the last of Legion’s armies. Azzinoth, as he was called, united his forces with other remnants of the invasion vanguard and led them across the mountains to Winterspring, a tranquil land of almost perpetual winter. There in the snowy gorges the united armies of demons took their last stand against several elven hosts, including the one under Illidan’s command. The battle was fierce and elves took great losses adding to the innumerable victims if the invasion itself, but ultimately the Legion was destroyed.
Kaenagorn was there on the frontlines killing one demon after another and getting great satisfaction from every monster cut down by his blades. After sacrificing his eyes he now wore a blindfold just like Illidan himself and the rest of demonhunters. But he was not blind. Being gifted with spectral sight after the ritual allowed him to see demons through any obstacles and illusions. Not only that, but he now was able to see auras and magic energies allowing him to anticipate the very movements of demons and counter their spells before they were even cast. His torso was now covered with a full set of tattoos protecting him from demonic powers and increasing his own. What was even more important those wards helped contain the fel essence within himself. Kaenagorn learned from his master how to increase his strength by devouring the hearts or blood of the most prominent demons. Yet this ritual posed a risk: with every fel essence consumed the demonic voices in his consciousness grew louder and stronger. Life of a demonhunter was a constant battle for his own soul and the more powerful he got, the harder it was to stay himself.
It was also there in Winterspring, that Kaenagorn last saw his shan’do. Illidan stood on a snowy hill armed with his new trophy warglaives taken from the defeated doomguard commander, and looked thoughtfully to the west, at the towering peak of Mount Hyjal.
Right before that he ordered his apprentices to travel in different directions throughout the kaldorei realm tracking down the remaining demons. The war was over but still scattered demons or even groups of them could be found hiding forsaken places and far reaches of the empire.
For some time he was occupied with hunting those down but then there came the shocking news. Illidan Stormrage was imprisoned. The whole nation could only speak about one thing. Illidan’s own brother, the hero of the war, druid Malfurion Stormrage together with High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind caught Illidan atop the sacred Mount Hyjal trying to create another Well of Eternity. The gigantic well of arcane energies used to lie in the heart of the empire and was the source of it’s might. But it also served as a portal for the Legion’s invasion and thus had to be destroyed causing the world sundering and forever cutting the elves from it’s power. Many people claimed that Illidan did this in order ensure the return of the demons as he was serving them from the very beginning and thus he now was dubbed “The Betrayer”.
Kaenagorn was dismayed by the news. He himself saw the deep hatred his shan’do felt towards the invaders, but knowing what it feels like to have fel voices constantly attacking from within he could not stop but think if Illidan’s power was too much for him to contain.
After this people became even more suspicious of the demonhunters. They never showed much friendliness towards them to begin with, but now they often refused to even talk to Kaenagorn. Unless they had a demon to deal with, of course. He did not care much for their love. He only wished to hunt. But as the time passed there was no more demons to kill. Kaenagorn felt lost. The desire to slaughter demons was the only thing driving his existence. He also was never able to track the succubus responsible for his loss. He felt as if he failed.
Feeling empty and apathetic he eventually travelled back to his homeland - the western Ashenvale. It was the only familiar place and besides, deep inside he still had a tiny hope of finding the monster who tortured and killed Tela. That said he did not return to his old house. Too much painful memories were waiting for him there, ready to gnaw at his heart like a pack of hungry felbeasts. Also the city was completely destroyed and elves never settled in that place again. Instead Kaenagorn found a tiny abandoned hut much like his old one near the northern foothills. He didn’t worry that the owner could ever return to his humble dwelling. Even after the Sundering the elven land was left with much more homes than people to live in them. Soon enough he hung his glaives on the wall and returned to his old trade of herb-gathering. A small village laid nearby but he never sold his plants to locals. Just as everywhere else people shunned him there. So he mostly gathered the materials for his own needs.
Over the years he developed a concoction that helped him to subdue the demonic voices in his head. It also inhibited his powers but at least his life became a little bit more tolerable.
Not everybody avoided him though. A young priestess of Elune, Seyala Nightriver eventually took habit of visiting him occasionally. Unlike the rest of their kin she did not see a monster in him. She saw yet another victim of the war, that perhaps lost and suffered even more than the rest. Being born after the war she herself never saw it but since elves couldn’t die of age there were still plenty of it’s survivors around.
Seyala always brought him a vial of water from the moonwell as it was essential for his tincture. It served as a kind of excuse for their rare meetings. They always spoke about different things that she found interesting or news from afar that she brought to him. He would never confess to anybody, but these talks were the only highlights of his life in the woods. One day she visited him and told him she was getting married. At that moment something long forgotten, something small and warm moved inside his heart. He never thought anything except a sight of dying demon could make him glad ever again, but he felt glad for her. Her husband was opposed to these visits for many reasons but over time he accepted that she considered the suspicious hermit a friend. Almost six centuries have passed since Kaenagorn settled in the abandoned hut when Seyala bore a child. She gave birth to a daughter that she named Kaela. Maybe she thought it would warm demonhunter’s jagged heart. Kaenagorn never saw the girl for obvious reasons but Seyala often talked about her telling him about mother’s never ending troubles.
There was a bittersweet torment in these talks as sometimes Kaenagorn couldn’t help but wonder whether he and Tela would have a daughter of their own. How would Tela name the girl? Would she inherit her mother’s blinding beauty or even surpass her? Would she be interested in herbs and plants of the forest like her father? Such questions inevitably hurt Kaenagorn but still this peaceful life and occasional conversation with a friend almost made his life bearable.
Then one day Seyala didn’t show up at the usual time. She never came the next day, or the day after that. On the fourth day Kaenagorn started to worry. Sometimes she could come a day or two later if she was too preoccupied with other things but never did she make him wait for that long. Besides she knew that without the moonwell water the effect of his tincture will fade away.
On the fifth day he finally decided to look for her in the village. For six hundred years he hasn’t stepped into the tiny settlement and wasn’t sure if the locals would let him approach. Still he left his blades on the wall hoping that if he looked less threatening they might tolerate him enough to find Seyala. But when he approached the village he was greeted with spears and frowning looks. The whole place was prepared for an attack. Luckily for Kaenagorn one of the guards knew of him and allowed him to approach. He even answered demonhunter’s questions but what he told hurt Kaenagorn more than anything in the past six centuries. Seya’s daughter went missing! The girl was in the nearby woods with the other kids, but at some point she wandered off and vanished in the thicket. When the adults noticed her absence and started searching it was too late. The hunters couldn’t track the girl or find any traces of what happened. Inconsolable Seya stayed in her house after searching for days without sleep, while her husband and most of the villagers continued to look for Kaela.
Kaenagorn felt nauseous. He didn’t try to meet Seya. Instead he rushed directly to the thicket where the girl vanished. No creature can step into the woods without leaving a trace, and kaldorei hunters were the best in the world. However one could hide his presence with magic. When he entered the thicket his spectral sight immediately showed him what he looked for. Dark auras, signs of foul magic and hoovemarks. It didn’t take him long to identify the enemy. Satyrs.
Satyrs were vile creatures, serving the Burning Legion. They were once kaldorei but got tempted by the promises of dark power and allowed to turn themselves into goat-like demons, covered in fur, with long horns, sharp claws and hooves for feet. They were not particularly strong, but like the night elves they were cunning and very agile. They also were masters of dark sorcery.
Kaenagorn immediately run to his home. He cursed himself for not bringing his warglaives. Now he was losing precious minutes having to pick them up. All the way to the hut and back to the demonic track his heart raced like it didn’t for hundreds of years. Seya’s precious child was in the claws of merciless demonic mongrels and he - the only one who could save her - was wasting time pretending to be some herbalist hermit.
It took him several hours to find the satyr’s camp. They were quite confident to stay this close to the elven dwellings. And they had numbers. He counted almost two dozens while watching their base from afar. Satyrs were masters of stealth and ambushes, but he grew in the forest and knew how to move silently. And since he could see them clearly through any bushes they had little chances of finding him. One by one he silently took out all of the sentries and started moving through the camp leaving dead bodies behind. He couldn’t take all of them at once so he only hope was to perform swift unseen kills before their numbers were low enough.
The last group stood together near the biggest tent leaving him no chance for a stealthy attack. He leaped onto one of them cutting him down in one strike, and then facing the last five of them in the open. Dazed by his sudden attack they fret for a moment before coordinating their actions. Three of them tried to surround him with weapons in hands while the other two started chanting their spells. Kaenagorn had to finish this quickly or they would overpower him with numbers. Satyrs were armed with curved swords and daggers and unfortunately for him relied on the same traits: speed, agility and mastery with blades. He got several deep cuts before he could get any one of them. Suddenly he felt pain in his chest, one of the casters cursed him with agony. His wards held on for the moment but soon they won’t be able to protect him from their spells. Another caster sent a bolt of pure shadow towards him. Kaenagorn dodged the deadly spell but got yet another cut on his leg. Blood covered the earth around him. Now that the satyrs understood what happened to the rest of their allies they were furious. Only once before Kaenagorn fought so fiercely: during the final battle with demons in Winterspring. Luckily for him the effect of his tincture had long faded away and his fury increased his powers tenfold. Finally he managed to get close enough to one of the sorcerers to strike him down. He covered himself with satyr’s body for a second giving him a chance to wound another one holding a sword. Having one of the fighters out of the game for a moment gave him an opportunity to properly attack the other two. He had to rely on his tattoos to withstand another magic attack, but managed to kill another swordsman. When the last fighter charged him with dagger Kaenagorn leaped backwards right to the last caster. Turning around mid flight he cut the surprised warlock down and faced the remaining two enemies. The short range of the dagger gave him an advantage so he easily finished the wounded swordsman and finally beheaded the last one with a risky but deadly spinning strike. The satyrs were all dead.
He found Kaela’s body on an ancient desecrated altar. He never saw the girl but recognised her immediately. The monsters didn’t touch the face. Kaenagorn searched the camp till he found some clean enough cloth and wrapped the disfigured body into it. He also beheaded the dead satyrs and stuck as many ugly horned heads as he could in a bag he found nearby. Then he gently took the wrapped body in his hands and headed towards the village.
The guards noticed him beforehand so people met him on the central square. Seya was among them. He slowly approached her and gently put his grim burden on the ground. For a moment she looked at him with panic in her eyes, then fell to her knees and started unwrapping the cloth with her trembling fingers.
Kaenagorn turned away and walked to the center of the square as her heartbroken wailing echoed under the sky. He threw the satyr heads in the middle, took his glaives to hands and walked out of the village. He didn’t go to his hut. Instead he headed in opposite direction. As he walked away Seya’s woeful cries hit him like a whip. It was his fault. He wallowed in his self-pity and abandoned his hunt. The satyrs creeped to his doorstep but he allowed them to do as they please while he pretended to be some pathetic victim of war, enjoying the attention and care of the poor woman.
He wondered if Illidan would strike him down if he saw his apprentice now. He abandoned his duty after all that he has sacrificed. Never again. He had to destroy the Legion. Not just for his failed revenge but so that never again would a mother cry as Seya did behind his back.
He never saw Seya again. He spent the next decades hunting satyrs all across the kaldorei domain. He slaughtered the whole covens, but more came to their place. Then began the War of the Satyr. A great army of satyrs emerged and marched on the kaldorei to eradicate their whole race. Kaenagorn joined the elven army and fought until the last satyr was dead. There he met some of his fellow demonhunters and learned a great deal from them.
After that he travelled throughout the kaldorei lands seeking and killing demons wherever he could. Sometimes he settled for a bit, but as soon as a word came of demons appearing somewhere he returned to his hunt.
Thus passed decades, centuries, millenia. Until one day he heard of a new war brought from across the eastern ocean. Kaenagorn did not care much for petty conflicts but people talked of new creatures bearing the mark of fel, so he headed to the north-east where the battles roared. As he was passing one of the many refugee caravans people started shouting and pointing north. There in the distance a rain of green meteors was falling from the night sky.
Kaenagorn grabbed his warglaives and headed towards the ominous view. It seemed his hunt was continuing.
And more prey has just arrived.
THE END
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