Into the Light

22 | THE FONT

When Khadgar had fled, he had covered the breach with magic, and sealed the small wing of Karazhan outside of time and space. It was his secret, and only he knew the way in. But underneath all his power and abilities, he was still a man, and could not ignore his deepest instincts. Even though he had only taken a small part of Karazhan with him, there were a lot of rooms he had not been in for years, and though he knew he was being irrational, it made him nervous. He closed the door, and cast another seal upon it. Better.

He had taken a huge risk by keeping this room. Medivh had said the font was much older than the War of the Ancients, had likely belonged to the Faceless Ones, followers of the Old Gods. Medivh had found it during one of his journeys. Recognising its latent power, he claimed it for himself, and placed it within his own home. Partly to make sure it doesn't fall into the wrong hands, and partly because I wanted it for myself, he had said when he had showed it to Khadgar. What does it do? Khadgar had asked. But Medivh had just smiled and said that was a lesson for another day, far in the future.

Well, now Khadgar knew. Fortunately, he had managed to salvage--by sheer, blind luck--exactly the book he needed to learn what the font was used for. Medivh's notes had been impeccable and detailed, if difficult to understand. It had taken the reading of seven more tomes to puzzle out the more obscure notations. The font had several uses, some of them quite dangerous, but for what Khadgar wanted to do, it was benign enough, so long as he did not stay too long. Hence, the two hours. It would force him to pay attention to the time.

He pulled his pocket watch from his pouch, and checked the time. He would allow himself an hour, no more. He began casting several spells at once, for protection. Runes encircled him, spinning and rotating around him, enclosing him in a web of intricate blue light. He tested its power, and tried to fall, the light took his weight and held him upright. Satisfied all was as it should be, he took a deep breath, and cast another spell, this one was going to hurt. It hit him, like a wall of icy fire. He shuddered, and stepped free of the web, leaving his body behind. He was totally transparent, invisible even to himself, yet he could still feel. He reached into his pocket, and found the watch. He touched the watch's face, and saw the time in his mind's eye. Good. Everything was ready. Just one final step. The most unpleasant one of all.

He walked around to the back of the font, and ascended the four stone steps leading up to the basin. Upon the top step he looked across the room at himself, standing immobile within the web he had cast. He looked tired, and angry, the pale blue light highlighted the two diagonal scars across his face, giving him the appearance of a warrior, not a mage. He might have aged enough internally to have caught up to his appearance after all these years, (when he was twenty, he had rather liked the sudden transformation from a chubby cheeked lad to the mature, chiselled features of a man in his mid forties), but he had never gotten used to his silver hair. He still hated that, he had had such nice hair too. He touched the watch again, involuntarily. He was wasting time, and he knew why. What he was about to do was going to give him answers he was not sure he was going to want to learn, but he had to. For the sake of Azeroth, he needed to press on.

Though there was no reason for him to do so, he held his breath as he stepped into the silvered surface of the font. The metallic liquid swirled and lapped around the outline of his feet. He used his mind to cast the incantation he had learned from Medivh's notes, and entered time itself.

In the chaos of the channels of time, he focussed his mind. The Vault of the Wardens, the day Illidan's body was stolen. Take me there.

In a heartbeat he was there, in the depths of the Vault, watching Gul'dan carry Illidan's inert body towards a portal. He followed them, undetectable by even the strongest magic. He passed his earlier self as he called out to Cordana Felsong, trying to stop her. She insulted him and went through her portal. Khadgar waited until Gul'dan stepped into his, and slipped in after him.

The portal's light cleared. Just as he had suspected. The Chamber of the Eye. Good. Gul'dan leaned on his staff, waiting for the Eredar to drag groups of Nightborne men, women and children into the Chamber. The demons pushed the terrified elves into the centre of a circle of fel runes, and began casting their incantations. Khadgar forced himself to watch as the souls of the living elves were ripped away both to power the portal to the Nether and to prepare Illidan's body for his resurrection as Sargeras's avatar. More Nightborne were brought in, shivering and crying, begging for mercy. Khadgar fast forwarded through time, until the portal was completed, and Gul'dan began to send tethers into it, attached to his staff.

One by one, the tethers returned, flailing and writhing, holding a little piece of light in their maws. Khadgar watched, in morbid fascination as Gul'dan cast an incantation upon the light, before sending the foul green tethers burrowing into Illidan's torso. The Betrayer's body flinched with each invasion, shuddering, reflexive, once morefalling inert as soon as the tether pulled free.

It was slow, painstaking work, but Gul'dan worked night and day, relentless, eating through lives and souls at an astonishing pace. How many had died? Hundreds, thousands even. Khadgar had seen enough, it was time to find a way in.

He left the room and travelled through the twisting corridors. It was a maze. He traced and retraced his steps trying to familiarise himself with the layout, but no matter which way he went, he always ended up back in the Chamber of the Eye. Claustrophobia began to claw at him. He touched the face of his watch. He cursed, as he realised he had already lost half the time he had allotted himself.

Once more in the Chamber, he watched another half-starved group of Nightborne elves being brought in. During his fruitless search, Khadgar hadn't found any holding areas for Gul'dan's victims. Where were they coming from? The Eredar escort left. Khadgar followed the demon out the Chamber's only exit and up the spiralling tunnel to a dead end. The Eredar stopped in front of it. Khadgar eyed the wall. There was nothing special about it. No markings, no runes, not even a torch nearby. The demon held up its hand and muttered an incantation. The wall vanished. Ahead, the stone tunnel narrowed, its ceiling and walls lit by fel torches, glowed a sickly green in the dripping gloom.