Pix’s Note: Yes, yes, I know it’s Thursday. But with changes in my schedule at the office, I wasn’t able to finish up the next installment of Uldu-Arms. So, today you get Friday Fiction, tomorrow you get the usual Thursday post. Enjoy.
Oh, if you missed them, here is Part 1 and Part 2. If you’ve missed the entire chain of stories at this point, go here and read from the bottom up.
“Worthless.”
The word rang hollow in her mind, answered with a scoff.
“Traitor.”
She answered with a growl of denial.
“You killed one of your blood… your own sister.”
“I had the right!” screamed Malyss, shouting down the disembodied voice that mocked her in her mind. Staggering and falling into a nearby chair, she sat, cradling her head in her hands, frustrated and angry and panicked. “Damn it, I had the right. She owed it to me!”
The voice was hers, the part of her controlled by demonic influence. Once, it caused her to doubt her sister, to let her hate grow and fester because of Lelissa’s “betrayal” so many years ago. Now that Lelissa was dead, the voice now sought to break her spirit, to weaken her so that the demon within would claim dominion over the body, and shove Malyss’ consciousness aside.
“So you say. Lelissa even told you she had searched for you everywhere. How was she to know you had landed in the Plaguelands, so far from where the Exodar crashed? The creatures there were powerful; you know as well as I do that she could not have survived there, as green as she was. You killed her for no reason.”
“She left me to die! It’s her fault that this is what I’ve become! It’s her fault that I am denied the light!” Malyss collapsed into sobs, shaking her head and weeping openly. “You told me it was her fault!”
“So I lied. You are denied the light because of what you are, but it is no one’s fault but your own. You accepted this. You told Arthas you would die for him. Maybe you should have.”
Malyss slipped from the chair to the floor, wracked with anger, hate, and grief. She lay there for a long time, unable to control her emotions as her will battled with the will of the demon within her.
And the demon was winning.
Resting against a tree, the Kaldorei, obviously a Priest by his garb, casually blew smoke rings into the air. The cheroot in his left hand was only recently lit, a sign that this was a recent break.
A large, black bear came sniffing about nearby, approaching the priest at the tree. Making a loud snuffling noise, like a sneeze, it looked at the Priest and growled, “For Elune’s sake, Myrlia, we’re already a week late to meet Valyra. Do you really have to stop for a smoke every ten minutes? Her message seemed pretty urgent, and we might want to get there sooner rather than later, don’t you think?”
Myrlia smiled a wry smile, running his hand through his hair. “You know I plan on quitting on my birthday, Kelarr. Let me enjoy it while I can.” He reached out, crushing the burning ashes on the base of the tree while Kelarr curled his muzzle in irritation at such a blatant disregard for nature. “You’re right, though. I guess we’d better get moving. I think we can make it there tonight, if we hurry… maybe catch a gryphon out of Stormwind?”
Kelarr nodded, an unusual action among bears, even Druidic ones. “Anything that will keep us from putting this off another week. Wait a minute, why am I talking to you? I’m still mad at you.”
“Oh, come on. How was I supposed to know she wouldn’t be a cat person?
The sound of hooves on the wooden floor caused Valyra to look up from her research. She found herself looking into Fierevere’s violet eyes as the succubus held her face just mere centimeters from her mistress’ nose. Valyra couldn’t see it, but Fierevere was grinning widely.
“About time you got back. We have work to do.” Valyra emphasized her irritation by slamming shut the book she was reading. “What took you so long, anyway?”
“Oh, a little of this, a little of that,” Fierevere purred. “You never said I couldn’t take my time getting back.”
Valyra growled, eyes flashing at the demon’s defiance. She thrust her hand forward, clutching Fierevere about the throat, raw fury and speed catching the Eredar by surprise. Fierevere quailed in fear, quivering at what she saw behind Valyra’s eyes, only barely contained as the warlock’s arm bulged and shifted, corded muscles tightening as she began to change.
“You. Will. Not. Make light of this. I gave you a job to do!” Valyra roared the last few words, her physical form shifting rapidly into a worgen, fangs bared from within a short muzzle common to her gender. “And I expected you to return to me quickly!”
Fierevere shrieked as Valyra casually swept her arm behind her, tossing the wayward demon into a bookcase. Hooves scraped the wooden floor frantically as the succubus tried to back into a corner, truly fearful for the first time at what her mistress had become.
Gritting her teeth, Valyra tried to regain control of herself. In this form, she often felt little more than the animal she resembled, and right now her rage was driving her to rend and tear the demon into shreds. Quivering with the effort, she finally wrestled her fury under control, the pain of the earlier transformation dulling her senses as she slowly shifted back into a human form.
The change finally done, Valyra looked down at her robe, sighing at the tears and stretched hems. Using soft, measured words, she spoke to Fierevere without looking at her.
“Woggles hasn’t arrived. Kelarr and Myrlia are late. I can’t wait for them to get here before calling on the others I need for this like I wanted to. Find Siasha and Esmerellda. We don’t have much time left.” Without another word, Valyra turned and went into her bedroom to change.
Only when she had been gone for several minutes did Fierevere finally muster the courage to stand and rush out of her mistress’ house.
