A/N - Written for the Descendants 2018 Contest where we had to write a piece about a descendant (kinda obvious, I know, sorry) of two fanfiction characters from a fandom of our choosing. The spec was to describe how their heritage influenced their actions; did they follow in their parents footsteps, or chose their own path. It was one of the winners by the way.
The young woman crouched, terrified of the robed figure in front of her. She'd undergone hours of torture from this fiend. She was chained; the iron links having been pulled taut, forcing her into a permanent kneel. At the wave of her captor's hand, life was being gradually drained from her. Lacerations bit into her skin, her blood trickling from the wounds coating her attire in the sticky, coppery fluid.
Although she had lost track of time, she guessed she'd been left for hours to recover in the rank little cavern. It was a pattern of events; to allow her cuts to knit together sufficiently until her captor decided to inflict more torture. A most revolting gruel was served to her by shuffling minions who hovered in the immediate vicinity. The food allowed a fraction of her vitality to be restored.
From deeper within the cavern, came whimpering, a sign that others were also subjected to torture. But, thankfully - she supposed - they were all placed out-with each other's line of sight.
She knew there was no way she would survive, yet her curiosity was not conquered so easily. She had sensed nobility in her torturer, or at the very least, some form of precedency going not only by the reverence awarded from those serving the sorcerer but also from certain things she heard uttered. She had deduced her jailor was female and suspected the next visit from the vile creature would be the last. So what else did she have to lose other than that which was a guaranteed certainty?
"Who are you?" she panted.
A cruel laugh answered her, but no words accompanied it. The tall figure merely circled her, the laughter and rustling robes echoing throughout the stone passages.
The semi-dark prison was suddenly illuminated in an eerie green glow, its light rippling off the walls as if a pool were located close by catching the reflection.
"I know you are going to kill me, so why remain incognito? Do you not wish for the alliance armies still fighting out there to fear the very mention of your name?"
Another laugh, but this time there was also a hint of calculation. "You wish to boost my notoriety?" The voice possessed a velvet mordancy which was more chilling than the powerful thaumaturgy this individual exercised.
"I know I will die this day, but there are others who have and will survive your slaughter. They will carry your name through the ranks, instilling not fear as you wish, but a cold, hard determination to bring you down and all those like you."
"All those like me?" The tone sharpened, laced with an acidic objection. "There is no-one like me!"
"There must be!" The woman argued bravely. "You are no apparition. You are flesh and blood. You have lineage; I sense nobility in you."
Again the robed figure laughed. The crackle of magic reached the young woman's ears before the tearing of her flesh began. She screamed, throwing her head back, almost catching a glimpse of her hateful subjugator. But, the figure's identity remained concealed by a large hood. Helplessly, the young woman watched with tearful eyes as manipulative fingers wove another spell. Her life-force was being visibly drawn from her in effervescent waves of indigo and emerald green.
The torment then ceased as suddenly as it had begun leaving pain and weakness behind. The woman was left gasping, her breath shortening with each assault from the hours, days she had been held captive. But, she would not be silenced and again demanded to know her vanquisher's identity.
"Not quite nobility per se, but as you wish, we will become acquainted." The figure said. "However, I will not simply tell you outright. Let us see how knowledgeable you are, first of your enemies."
"Why do you not just tell me? I am not long for this world anyway."
"Oh, but I like to be entertained, my dear."
The woman sighed, resigning herself that this 'game' would proceed how her torturer wished. "Very well, get on with it."
The robed figure continued to circle her. After a few moments, the conversation opened. "I repeat then, what do you know of your enemies?"
The woman tried to shift, but the ache from constant kneeling flared to agony as she slid onto her buttocks. Groaning, she waited until the pain lessened before talking. "The Burning Legion," she hissed. "Demons. Their leaders' reach is expansive, converting even the most innocent to do their bidding. So many have been corrupted, serving them since the War of the Ancients. Gul'dan, the orc warlock - infused with fel power and evil beyond all comprehension, now commands many of the armies in Sargeras' name. The similarity to him, by the way, is unquestionable."
Raucous laughter resounded through the caverns. "Oh please! Do I look like an orc?"
Turning her head sideways to look up, the woman scoffed. "No, but that is easily attained by your kind, through magic."
"Hmm, true, but it is not so in my case. No, I am another breed entirely. My mother, pitiful creature, saw fit to have me placed in the hands of an adoptive family. I guess she was ashamed of me, or at least of who my father was. Oh, I know! You are thinking, how do I know who my real parents were, yes?"
"Not really no, but I suppose I did ask who you were so the history lesson is unavoidable."
The figure huffed then continued circling. "You are feisty for a near corpse; I will give you that."
A scream from deeper in the caverns announced another hapless victim of the Legion's devotees. The young woman shook her head as if trying to rid the disturbing cries.
"As we are to be introduced then, albeit briefly, tell me your name, soldier." The velvet voice resumed.
"Candice Leighton," the young woman responded without hesitancy. "Lieutenant in the Stormwind Guard. I served under King Varian Wrynn."
"Unfortunate creature! He that is, not you. Although you will fare no better than he."
Candice squirmed at the reference to her king's horrific demise at the hands of Gul'dan.
"Anyway," her captor continued nonchalantly. "As I was saying, mother dearest wanted me hidden from the world. Quite how she managed to keep her pregnancy a secret I must admit is quite a mystery, that much I have not discovered - perhaps one day though..."
"She still lives?"
"Oh, yes! Very much so. I must visit her - soon." Low, cruel laughter sounded before a continuance. "As for daddy, well... He showed great promise in the larger scale of things. He had all the right attributes; formidable magical skills, a thirst for knowledge, the ability to decimate hundreds if not thousands in his pursuit of even more power. Ah yes, he was once perfect. But now - he is a disappointment."
"And you? Are you what you consider - perfect?" Candice glanced up and thought she saw a glint of teeth from within the deep hood.
"But of course!" There was an air of supremacy in the figure's tone. "And I believe I look more like him than I do mother. Thank goodness for that, I suppose. I also possess the same drive he had and the enviable ability to wield arcane and shadow. I possess an efficacious knowledge of the most sacred magic. But the big difference between us is that I have followed my true destiny. He foolishly turned from what could have made him the greatest leader of all Azeroth."
"So, who is he? Who does he serve now?"
"Serve? That is the only thing I revere about him. No matter how feeble his mind and choices are, he will never serve anyone! At least - not for now."
"Then I guess that's one up for daddy considering you serve the Legion."
Another searing bolt of agony sliced through Candice's flesh. Oddly, she laughed through the assault this time, her tears the only sign that she felt pain. She had scored a point against her aggressor, hitting a nerve. The torture ceased abruptly again.
"I serve only to reach the station of which I am deserving. Then others will serve me!"
"Tell me your name!" Candice hissed.
"Lynis'ta."
The soldier guffawed. "That means nothing! You are merely another servant of Sargeras, a nobody, another mindless minion!"
The figure crouched down in front of Candice. "A nobody? With my parentage, you think I am insignificant?"
"You admitted you were an embarrassment to your mother and your very existence no doubt is unknown by your father. If that isn't a nobody, then what is?"
Lynis'ta hissed. "They will regret their past decisions, Candice Leighton - make no mistake! I will crush them both but not before they know who I am. I can obliterate my mother and her reputation. I can ruin her! As for her poor, ignorant husband, he is in for the greatest shock of all when he learns that his precious wife had not been completely loyal to him all those years ago. Oh, wait until he gets a load of me!"
"And what of daddy?"
Lynis'ta stood tall again. "Daddy!" She sighed. "Perhaps he can be redeemed. He thinks he is untouchable and so many are against him. It would be rather wonderful if he were to see the error of his ways and rejoin us. I reckon perhaps I am a daddy's girl for all we have not met yet. Sargeras still sees such promise in him, although - and I am not one to brag - I am also very much in our master's favour." Lynis'ta laughed lightly then. "I intend for my father and his disciples to end up serving me!"
Candice now heard evident madness in her captor's voice. "You are a bastard child Lynis'ta with delusions of grandeur. You will not be remembered. I will die today, yes, but my parents and siblings will honour me, as will my friends and fellow soldiers. My name will not be forgotten."
Once more, Lynis'ta knelt in front of the soldier. "Ahh, but that still accounts for such a small number, Candice. I, on the other hand, will be remembered, nay - feared by the Kal'dorei once I bring mother down from her lofty pedestal."
Candice's eyes widened. Had she understood correctly? Was Lynis'ta inferring her mother was the leader of the night elven nation? Ancient stories once thought as superfluous rumours flooded her tortured mind.
Lynis'ta pressed on. "Not only that, but when my father is in my grasp and his followers answer to me, I will also command the fiercest army to come out of Azeroth. The Illidari!" She threw her hood back.
Candice stared into the amber eyes of a night elf sorcerer. She now realised precisely who her conquistador was; the daughter of Illidan Stormrage and Tyrande Whisperwind. Although she knew her next words would result in her demise, she spat them out regardless. "If you think you will overthrow the leader of the Kal'dorei and the Lord of the Illidari, then you are more twisted and deluded than the entire force of the Burning Legion." She laughed. "Even as we speak, your parents' have combined forces with loyal Azerothians, and are tearing down Sargeras' rule using the Pillars of Creation. They are on the brink of annihilating you all from within. Argus is about to be invaded."
"No! You lie!" Lynis'ta stood, abruptly.
Candice looked up, laughter still tripping from her cracked lips as the night elf sorceress started to form the final spell she would cast upon her. "You think daddy will work for the Legion? Oh Lynis'ta, he has been on our side all along! You will never beat him, he is the greatest counterspy to have ever lived. Nor will you defeat or even cast shame on your mother." She screamed in a concoction of agony and laughter as the spell extracted her life-force, her very essence, her soul. Her flesh was flayed from her body.
The magic ceased. All that remained of the soldier was mush, and her blood-drenched tabard carrying the alliance insignia draped over empty armour.
Lynis'ta glared down at the bloodied remains. "I will not be erased again by the whore of Elune and the Betrayer. They will suffer!" The sorcerer then swept from the cavern.