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It lasts no time at all, and it lasts an eternity.
There is no up or down anymore, no right or left, no forwards or backwards – eddies and vortices are jolting her in every direction imaginable; a thunderstorm of raw energy sweeps her up and carries her into the darkest pits of hell.
It lasts no time at all, and it lasts an eternity.
There is no sound, or at least not how one would define sound – the screaming is projected directly into her mind, a never-ending, dissonant chorus of unearthly howls, wails and roars, all competing against each other in a maddening race for supremacy where none can emerge the victor.
It lasts no time at all, and it lasts an eternity.
They cannot be called voices, because voices imply a certain degree of control, a certain amount of substance.
There is none.
They tear into her in nauseating waves, one blood-curdling tsunami of unspeakable agony after another, whenever they don’t become veritable spikes of undiluted pain.
And it doesn’t stop.
And she desperately wants it to stop.
And she desperately wants it never to stop.
Because she knows that behind this mind-shattering cacophony is something else, something much vaster and far more terrifying than all the demonic clamouring in the universe.
Because she knows that as long as they keep up, they offer the only harbour for her naked soul.
Because she knows that the moment they stop, there will be nothing left between her and it.
Between her and—
-flash-
The tall palomino came to a sliding stop on the stone terrace, bracing all four legs to halt its momentum before it would literally topple down the gargantuan dais. She lurched violently in the saddle, gripping the pommel with all her might to keep herself from falling off. The pressure inside her head was indescribable – it felt as if her skull would go sky-high like a seaforium charge at any moment, and even through her numbed senses she could pick up the metallic warmth of blood running from her nose.
Then her insides churned, and reality came crashing down around her. A singular, all-overpowering impulse shot through her mangled brain, and she fairly threw herself off the stallion’s back, only the death-grip on the pommel allowing her to land feet-first. The moment she felt the ground beneath her soles, she shoved herself away from the horse, virtually catapulting herself to the side of the gigantic stone stairs, and landed hard against the uneven, unfinished edge, narrowly avoiding tumbling straight over it. She gripped the jagged stone with both hands, leaned over it as far as she dared and vomited.
A split second later, a cool, slightly dry palm was pressed gently but firmly against her forehead, another hand pushing her hair out of her face. She had no time to consider who it might be or how many were even watching, as her body continued with its terror-induced instinctual spree. She heaved again, and again, and again, until nothing would come out but stomach acid.
Theluin continued to carefully stroke her face, pressing his palms against her temples and whispering encouragement with all the speed he could muster. She dimly registered Eleazar’s gauntleted hands grasping her shoulders, trying to steady her trembling frame, and she realized that she was shaking like a leaf, periodic spasms running through her limbs as she sobbed uncontrollably. Her throat burned from the vomiting, but that pain was nothing compared to what was happening inside her head.
It seemed to take forever until the agony abated enough for her to start taking stock of her surroundings. She was on her knees, half collapsed in a heap dangerously close to the side of a gargantuan set of stairs that led directly into a scorched wasteland surprisingly similar to the one they had just left. The main difference was the full-scale battlefront in open combat barely a few hundred yards away – a rainbow variety of warriors and soldiers, Horde and Alliance alike, being pitted against towering, fully manifested demons of every imaginable and unimaginable flavour.
And the skies … oh Light, the skies.
It could be likened to an aurora borealis, if it had been made up entirely of a rainbow hue of fel green, blood red and coruscating purple, blazing from horizon to horizon. Pure nether, powerful enough to be visible by the naked, mortal eye. She shook again, averting her gaze as quickly as her only barely re-established composure would allow.
Theluin put one palm against her forehead, mumbling a peculiar string of syllables in his own tongue. She shivered slightly, her face relaxing almost imperceptibly, then continuously more apparent until her ragged breathing began to ease.
Eleazar stared in wonder. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Priest do that before.”
Theluin sighed and continued to brush sensitive fingers against the distraught she-rogue’s face. “Remember that I am a Priest of Elune, Eleazar. We have practices that your clergy understandably has never heard of, let alone witnessed being used.” The elderly Kaldorei pulled out a small, woollen towel from his knapsack and began to carefully clean Tuan’s face, his eyes becoming distant as he went on. “This particular technique is a little trick of my own that I developed a very … very long time ago.”
Eleazar looked at his ancient friend with deep respect. “I have no doubt, sir Theluin.”
Tuan’s arm came up slowly, wavering for a moment before she clumsily pushed Theluin’s hand aside. The Moon Priest paused and regarded the young woman attentively. “Are you coming to?”
“I guess,” she mumbled coarsely, her throat cracked and hoarse from the impromptu evacuation of her innards. She tried to wipe her mouth with her arm, but this time it was Theluin who stopped her movement by resuming his own routine. She grimaced and closed her eyes. “Don’t …”
The elderly Night Elf was undeterred. “I might as well make you presentable again.”
She tried to turn her head away. “… you’re ruining a perfectly good piece of cloth, you know,” she muttered.
“Plenty more where it came from.” He never faltered.
She sighed in defeat and gave in to the slow but gentle handling. “Pity on the breakfast, tho’.”
Theluin allowed himself a wan smile as he withdrew. “I do believe you are starting to recover. Can you stand?”
Tuan’s face set in a grimace of effort and residual nausea as she sluggishly pushed herself to her feet. She turned around gingerly, holding out a hand. “Sandy.”
The stallion, having been left to tread in place indecisively, whinnied quietly and walked over to her with a degree of hesitation. She caught the reins, letting the steed step in close and leaned heavily against the ornate saddle, gently rubbing the horse’s flaxen mane.
“It’s alright,” she whispered softly. “It’s alright. It’s not your fault. You did the right thing, Sandy. You did the right thing.” The stallion whinnied again, this time in an oddly reassuring manner, and bent its head around to nuzzle her shoulder.
She turned her head, looking around and noticing that they were essentially alone on the stone terrace. “The dispatch?”
“They have already joined the fray. I doubt they paid much attention.” The Moon Priest did not specify what exactly he was talking about, and the she-rogue didn’t bother to question him.
As she gripped the saddle to mount up, Eli started forward. “Miss Tuan, y’ really shouldn’t overexert yers—” He cut himself off as she swung into the saddle without hesitation, essentially pulling herself into it by the sheer strength of her arms. She took a moment to steady herself, her head hanging low.
“We can’t linger, Eli,” she finally said after a few tense heartbeats. “The delegates won’t wait forever, and the battle sure as fel won’t.”
And with that, she tapped Sandy into a slow walk and began making her way down the massive staircase.
Eli stared dumbfounded after her for a moment, and then glanced quickly at Theluin. The Moon Priest glanced back knowingly.
“A pain suppression spell. It will buy us a couple of hours, at the very least. We may as well follow her example.”
Retrieving their respective mounts, the odd trio traversed the imposing set of platforms that made up the fabled Stair of Destiny, and approached the Marshal who came riding up on a muscled, agitated warhorse to greet them, followed by a small group of adjutants. The man wiped both sweat and ash from his face, but his eyes were unflinching.
“Forgive the delay,” Theluin smoothly began. “We had to tend to our companion here.” Tuan muttered a string of thankfully unintelligible words as she picked away a stray bloodclot from her nose.
The commander nodded understandingly, paying no heed to the she-rogue’s foul mannerisms.
“The first trip through the Portal can be rough, especially if you’re not prepared.” He took a moment to check his temperamental steed. “The other dignitaries have already received a direct flight with armed escort to Honor Hold – that’s our main fortification in the area. I suggest you do the same.”
Theluin nodded, Eli following suit. The Marshal raised his hand and signalled sharply into the air; a few moments later, a squad of War Gryphons swooped down, accompanied by a trio of empty-saddled riding Gryphons.
Tuan shortened her reins somewhat, making Sandy take a few steps back. “What about our ground steeds?” she asked, possibly a little more harshly than necessarily.
The Marshal was unfazed. “Since we started receiving reinforcements, we’ve rebuilt a few of our disabled Siege Tanks into personnel carriers. They will ferry your mounts to the Hold.”
Tuan glowered darkly at nothing in particular, but before Theluin could get a chance to interject, she nodded curtly and swung herself off her horse. Eli couldn’t help but notice how she took a few extra seconds to steady herself before she grasped Sandy’s reins and handed them to the waiting adjutants.
As she stood next to the riding Gryphon allotted to her, Eli stepped close and leaned in. “Miss Tuan, are you sure you should be—”
“Quiet, Eli,” the she-rogue growled. Seizing the harness with both hands, she heaved herself into the saddle with a grunt. Adjusting her balance, she glanced back down at her friend, a faintly apologetic glint in her weary eyes. “Sorry. You know I don’t like being mollycoddled.”
Eli simply looked up at her. “Don’t overdo it,” he intoned. She managed a very brief, very wane smile in return.
The flight to the Hold was mercifully short. Eli kept his eyes trained on Tuan at all times, and his heart constricted with concern and pity as he watched her clench her hands into the Gryphon’s feathery mane, her head bowed low to avoid the ever-present glare of the otherworldly skies. Beneath them the battle raged on, petering out as they crossed over the outer defensive perimeters and within the relative air safety of the fortified settlement’s imposing artillery.
The check-in at the makeshift inn was brief and unceremonious, the peculiar trio of friends being allotted their accommodations and shown the way without fuss. Tuan vanished into her room with little to no formality, shutting the door behind her with a slam. Theluin and Eleazar took just enough time to arrange their belongings before they left to join up with the other dignitaries in the main keep cresting the hill on which the small military town had been established.
As the odd pair walked across what served as the settlement’s central square, Eli turned to Theluin with concern etched in his features. “S’it really a good idea leaving her behind like this?”
Theluin kept his gaze forward, swinging his Priest’s staff in pace with his strides. “I made sure to leave the ingredients for that herb infusion in my room, along with a note. She’ll find it in due time.”
Eli raised both eyebrows. “Yer just goin’ to let her walk in and rifle through your stuff?”
The elderly Kaldorei remained unfazed. “She’s done it before. I know her well enough to trust she will be sensible about that which does not lie in plain sight.”
Eli wasn’t entirely convinced. “She did say the oth’r night that she wanted th’ recipe.” Theluin glanced at the Paladin with a sculpted eyebrow arched. Eli put up a hand. “She needed to talk, and that’s all we did. Still,” he shook his head, “s’a rather circuitous way to go about helping her.”
Theluin smiled, surprisingly lopsidedly. “She is hardly oblivious to her own well-being. She simply prefers not to have it made public property.”
Eli boggled quietly. “… you two really have a weird relationship.”
Theluin merely continued to smile. “Perhaps.”
They exchanged no more words.
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Originally written by Tuan Taureo
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