Into the Light

47 | THE RISE OF SARGERAS

Helpless, Illidan watched his brother fall. He roared, furious. The bond to Tyrande collapsed. He staggered to his brother's side, realising just how much Tyrande's transformation into Sargeras's avatar had taken from him. He knelt beside Malfurion, his brother still lived, but he was falling fast. Xe'ra's light surrounded him, sustaining him, holding him back from the brink of oblivion.

Movement beside Illidan made him look up, sharp. Gul'dan moaned, struggling to come to his feet. His face was completely ruined, a gaping hole where his nose had once been exposed the bloody interior of his throat. One of his eyes were gone, a seeping, viscous hole filled the orifice. Both his incisors were snapped off at their bases, and one of his ears hung by a thin piece of flesh to his skull. Blood matted his beard. He was almost unrecognisable. Malfurion had done his work well, if it hadn't been for Sargeras, Gul'dan would have fallen.

With great gentleness, Illidan set Malfurion back onto the floor and rose up before Gul'dan. He had lost almost all his strength to Tyrande's transition, but he still had his will, and he would not let this creature stand, ever again. He lifted his cloven hoof, and slammed it down onto Gul'dan's ravaged, bleeding torso.

Gul'dan grunted and fell back. Out of his nightmarish visage, he looked up at Illidan with his remaining eye, cold, his hatred unbending. "Even if you kill me, the Legion still wins," he rasped.

"The Legion hasn't won yet," Illidan said, grim, pushing his weight against Gul'dan's torso, crushing him against the flagged stone floor. The orc chuckled, despite his obvious agony, taunting Illidan. "Wait and see, nothing can stop Sargeras. Nothing. I just wish I could be here to see you try."

Illidan stared at the twisted, mocking face, filled with hatred. He wanted to make him suffer, force him to experience thousands of years of misery. He reached down with both hands, and closed them around the orc's throat, cutting off his air. The orc didn't fight him, he lay passive, letting Illidan do his work. It didn't take long. Gul'dan shuddered, his eye rolling back into his head. A heartbeat later his body went limp.

It was done. Illidan stood up and stared at the lifeless creature, the object of all his hatred for so long, and felt . . . nothing.

"Illidan," breathed Tyrande, her voice darkened by the taint of Sargeras. "You are mine now. You will be my Commander. Together we will cleanse the Great Dark of all life and defeat the Void."

A shield of ice sprang up from the floor around him, deflecting the fel that poured from Tyrande's eyes. She laughed, soft. "How quaint. Even when all is lost, still they fight."

He looked at her, apart from her eyes which filled him with an intensity that threatened to overwhelm him, she was still Tyrande.

"Do not look him in the eyes!" Khadgar cried out. Illidan tore his gaze away, but already the titan's taint had touched him. His thoughts tumbled, reorganising. Yes. The power Sargeras offered was beyond his wildest imaginings. And he could be with Tyrande. He could still protect her. There would be worlds to cleanse in the continuous fight against the Void. Sargeras's mind might be controlling her, but her body was still hers. Illidan could protect her, in the long fight ahead, she could still fall. He slammed his fists against the icy shield, breaking free. Tyrande smiled and held out her hand to him.

He went to her, and kissed it. She stroked his brow, tender. He knelt before her.

"My love, I am yours. Whatever you ask of me, I shall be that to you."

She looked at the little group assembled at the entrance of the Chamber. Disdain touched her lips. "Kill them."

A surge of power coursed through her fingers into him, he drank of it. It had been so long since he had felt true strength. He rose up, invigorated. Nothing could compare to this. He was a god. He stepped toward the group, his lips curving into a cold smile. From behind their wall of ice, the mages gripped their staves, determination radiating from them.

The Na'aru still fed her Light into Malfurion, he ignored it. The female mage, dressed in glittering white interested him more. Her aura of power was staggering. She outstripped the rest, even the Na'aru. He could sense Sargeras's thoughts, prodding him to remove her first. He turned to face her, lifting up his hands to draw from the fel energy that coursed through his body.