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I don’t want to go through the Dark Portal.
Osborne had to jump aside to avoid being bowled over by her as she came unceremoniously stomping out of the gate leading to the SI:7 headquarters. She didn’t even grace him with a cursory glance, continuing straight across the small square towards the exit that led into the labyrinth of channels crisscrossing Stormwind.
I don’t want to go through the Dark Portal.
“I heard a story about this golden fish—“
“You’re making that up.”
“— and if you caught it, you would get—“
The two boys were forcibly interrupted by the towering rogue as she stormed past right between them, heading up the bridge. “Hey!” “Whoa!”
The first one was about to shout something foul at the uninvited party crasher, but was held back by his friend. They were left standing on the base of the bridge, staring half crossly, half awkwardly after the tall, athletic woman disappearing on the other side.
I don’t want to go through the Dark Portal.
The Trade District was as utterly choked with peddlers and bantering city dwellers as it always were during high noon, but she weaved with great expertise through the milling throng, instinctively snagging a shiny red apple from a fruit stand while the merchant was busy receiving payment for some exotic jungle delicacy. Admittedly, the citizenry were giving her a somewhat wider berth than they usually would have – which she indubitably would’ve noticed had she bothered to pay more attention to her surroundings. The fact that her chiselled face was set in an only minutely restrained expression of frustration and barely contained rage had most likely a fair bit to do with it. She ploughed through the central square with little thought, veering sharply into the south-western exit.
I don’t want to go through the Dark Portal.
Clearing the next channel bridge by the absolute minimum amount of strides, she dove into the entrance to the Mage Quarter, immediately feeling the distant needles and pinpricks in the back of her head from the numerous arcane researches going on in the elegantly carved buildings arrayed around her. Right now, however, she couldn’t care any less about the discomfort.
I don’t want to go through the Dark Portal.
She made a very mindful point of not looking up at the tower standing proudly in the middle of the central garden. She didn’t need to; the faint pressure behind her forehead informed her in no uncertain terms of the etheric constructs being housed within its walls at the end of the seemingly unsupported stone arch leading up to the ridiculously elevated, crested entrance. Instead, she walked up the lower stairs to her left and entered the Blue Recluse.
I don’t want to go through the Dark Portal.
The tavern was virtually deserted and didn’t seem to have had any visitors that day; all the chairs stood neatly around their tables, the tavernkeep busily polishing mugs and tankards that had nary a spot of dust on them. The man looked up as the she-rogue pulled out a chair from one of the tables and threw herself into it with little to no gracefulness. With practiced ease, he made his way over to her with a jovial smile.
“Hello there – welcome to the Blue Recluse. Care for a refreshment, madam?”
She glanced over at him and, after a moment’s hesitation, nodded curtly. “Whatever you would recommend for getting your mind off something exceedingly infuriating.”
The tavernkeep smiled understandingly and vanished downstairs to the cellar. He returned a few minutes later with an antiquated bottle and poured a medium-sized glass nearly full with the rich, red wine, smoothly placing the glass in front of her before retreating once more to the counter.
She took a deep draught of the wine, put the glass down and leaned her head back with an exhausted sigh.
“… I don’t want to go through the Dark Portal.”
“I had a feeling this would be revolving around that particular form of subject.”
She let her head straighten up and swivel around, piercing silver-teal coming to a rest on the tall yet thinly built Kaldorei male comfortable seated at a nearby table, deeply engrossed in a small, leather-bound tome. The simple, unadorned acolyte’s robe he wore would have left little to no indication of his station, were it not for the elaborate priestly staff leaned against the wall behind him. His unassuming, untroubled pose together with the solid raven black of his long, flowing mane of hair belied utterly the veritable millennia he had stood witness to. She watched impassively as he calmly turned another page, putting in an exquisite bookmark fashioned from a thin strip of the finest oak wood. He then shut the book with an audible fwap, placed it on the table in front of him and lifted his head to look squarely at her.
She cracked a lopsided smirk in return. “Theluin. It can’t have been more than one season, can it?”
The elderly Moon Priest blinked in a moment of genuine puzzlement, looking aside and counting silently to himself. He nodded lightly and turned his eternally tranquil gaze back to his far, far younger acquaintance. “Indeed it has.” His deep, melodious baritone, as always discreetly tinted by his native accent, hardly shifted in timbre.
She let out another weighted sigh and pinched her fingers together across the bridge of her nose. “Look, Thel, I’m really not in the mood for these games right now.” She flung her hand out and gestured with ironic gusto. “How about we break custom just this once and cut to the chase? Consider it a relaxing reprieve, I guess.”
Theluin let show a small smile. “Whenever you are in town, you are a fairly common sight at most taverns in this city, except this one – exclusively. I have long since come to the conclusion that you only show up here when there is a very specific subset of issues at hand.”
She shot him a dark glare. He remained unfazed.
Third time the charm: yet another sigh escaped her as she leaned forward in her chair, resting her head in her hands. “… I’m just going to go right ahead and assume you know all about the mess on Azuremyst and Bloodmyst, right?”
He furrowed his brow, his expression sobering. “Yes … the former Silvermyst Isles. It is a considerable tragedy, what has happened. And at the same time, a deeply fortuitous turn of events.”
She glanced over at him. “I bet you were part of the first diplomatic delegation and everything.”
He arched a long, sculpted eyebrow at her. “Of course.”
“And the Odesyus fleet?”
“Word reached us barely a day ago that they had been forced to beach on Azuremyst and were, given the circumstances, doing quite well. They have been receiving aid from our new allies.”
She groaned quietly and rubbed her face. “I guess I really deserved this, then.”
He looked over at her with renewed acuity.
Rather than answering right away, she picked up her glass of wine and shifted herself over to one of the empty chairs by her friend’s table, taking a quick swig as she did so. He waited patiently.
When she spoke again, her voice had lost nearly all of its ornery overtones; slightly hushed so as not to carry too far yet not appear too suspicious – an adaptation perfected through years of practice. “Mathias sent me out about a month ago to check up on Odesyus and his fleet. Long story short – I found them on Azuremyst, obviously. Turns out they had been betrayed by an infiltrator in the crew.” The last part was spoken swiftly and matter-of-factly; the kind of statement that would peel off most eavesdroppers’ memory unless one was paying very close attention or had very good reason to be interested in that kind of information. Her companion’s features never so much as twitched; apart from a nigh imperceptible shift in the perpetual glow of his eyes, which – again – would have required a highly intimate level of familiarity on any potential spy’s part.
She lifted her glass to her face, giving him a distinctly weary glance over its edge. “And after my excellent display of time management, the good Master Shaw wants me to continue the investigation.” She took another, deeper swig. “Two guesses to where.”
“Through the Dark Portal, then.” It was never a question.
Her eyes hardened. “Don’t remind me.” She drained the remainder of the wine in a single breath. Then she suddenly rounded on him. “Or rather—let’s play along with this particular game for a moment. Allow me to remind you how I nearly broke a gryphon getting from Nethergarde to here in order to have you pound it into those Alliance brigadiers’ thick skulls that the Dark Portal was being flooded by the Burning Legion’s vanguard after standing near silent for a decade and a half!!” She slumped back into her chair, having risen to her feet during her tirade. “The Argent Dawn had to single-handedly hold the breach for nearly a week before the first Stormwind regiment would arrive.” She composed herself with a visible effort. “And now I have to travel through that abominable edifice. Joy.”
His only reaction was one of simple compassion. “It is that much of a discomfort to you?”
She shoved her glass aside and slumped forward onto the table, burying her face in her arms with a groan. “I hate that thing,” she muttered. “More than a day in the keep, and it feels like my brain is trying to explode out the back of my skull.” She looked up at him dejectedly, leaning her chin in her hand. “And I thought it was bad enough when it was still dormant.”
He nodded gently. “Have you considered yet what these headaches may be caused by?”
“Pff. Beats me.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I’m a rogue, not a mage.”
He fixed her sharply with his gaze. “That is the vital point, isn’t it?”
She gave a light start, but didn’t reply.
He went on calmly: “Can you at all recall a single instance where you have experienced this particular pain while not in the vicinity of an arcane construct?”
She stared off into space. “… never.”
He continued to watch her attentively.
Finally she sat up again, leaning back in her chair and once more pinching the bridge of her nose. “… could we please stop talking about this particular subject?”
After a few tense heartbeats, the elderly Kaldorei nodded softly and leaned back as well. “I suppose the next port of call will be to find a foil for being headed through the Portal itself.”
She grimaced and rubbed her face. “Yeah. There’s a pretty steady stream of provisions going to the keep by now, so they don’t exactly need external escorts anymore. And a solitary rogue headed for immediate passage into a fleetingly secured wasteland …” She let out a broken chuckle and rolled her eyes meaningfully. “That’s not going to sit well with local command. I’d need the King’s autograph in his own blood to pull that one off.”
Her friend let show a small, ironic smile. “Let us hope it will not require such a drastic measure. In fact …” He ran a hand absent-mindedly across his raven-black, neatly trimmed beard. “… there may be a far simpler way to go about this.”
She looked up, suddenly alert.
He looked back at her. “There is a sizeable reinforcement dispatch being prepared. Bound for the Portal itself, to join the forces already in combat in Outlands.”
Her eyes glittered; the telltale sign of her opportunism kicking in.
“And …” This time the smirk was unmistakable on the aged Night Elf’s face. “… I have been asked specifically by the emissaries of the Cathedral to accompany this dispatch, as it will contain a sizeable portion of warriors sent by our new allies.”
She duly threw her head back and laughed uproariously. It only took a moment before Theluin joined in with a defeated chortle.
“They roped you in, didn’t they!” she exclaimed, gasping for breath. “They actually roped you in for once!”
He discreetly put a hand in front of his mouth to hide an embarrassed smile. “Ah, hm … heh. Yes. Yes, that would be a fairly accurate description of the situation at hand.”
She collected herself, but the grin didn’t leave her face. The laughter had been relieving. “How many days until lift-off?”
“At the end of this week. The logistics are ponderous, as always.”
She nodded. “Alright. I’ll make sure I don’t have anything unfinished here in town that can’t wait six months.” She rose smoothly. “Command center?”
He confirmed with a nod in return, and then looked up at her with a slightly more sober expression. “I know this will be a strain for you.”
She raised her hand dismissively. “I’ll be fine. I always am. One way or another.” She cracked a little smirk. “Right?”
He sighed quietly and nodded submissively, watching her as she strode out of the tavern with her signature confidence. He looked down at the book that had until now rested almost forgotten on the table. He picked it up and examined its cover, taking particular note of the carefully engraved title.
Of Light and Void
A Draenic Discourse on the Naaru
“Elune, watch over her,” the ancient Kaldorei whispered tonelessly to himself. “For all our sakes … but hers most of all.”
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Originally written by Tuan Taureo
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