Into the Light

13 | THE CHAMBER OF THE EYE

Gul'dan leaned on his staff, eyeing the portal. Something was wrong. None of the tethers were returning to his staff. He looked around the dimly-lit cavernous space, searching for discrepancies. Nothing had changed in his ritual. All was as it should be. Within the thick black stone walls of the Chamber of the Eye, deep within the Tomb of Sargeras, the sacrifices continued, feeding the portal and Gul'dan's staff.

He looked over the fel-runed circle, glowing with lurid yellow-green light. Set in the centre of the Chamber, the newest group of Nightborne rebels--gathered and delivered by Suramar's Grand Magistrix Elisande--huddled together, frightened. He had long since tuned out their cries for mercy, the bribes, the offers of service. They had only one use, their souls would bring him Illidan's. He waited while three Eredar ripped two more souls free, and fed them into the portal. It flickered as the disembodied souls merged with it, sending shafts of dark green streaking across its inky, viscous surface. Gul'dan stroked his beard, narrowing his eyes as two more souls succumbed to the siphoning spells of the Eredar, the victims collapsing, shrunken, lifeless husks.

He scoffed at the cries of terror coming from those still awaiting their fate. How disposable they were. He rather enjoyed this use of his time, he had begun to fancy that with each miserable death, he cleansed Azeroth of a little more of its trash. He held up his staff, catching the souls of two more unwilling victims. He glared at the portal, waiting. Still nothing. He had sent at least three dozen tethers through. He wasn't in the mood to lose any more. Perhaps he had become greedy, by forcing larger and larger tethers into the Nether. In his haste to please his Master, he wondered if he had asked the portal to give him more than it could. He shrugged, seeking to ease the knotted muscles at the back of his neck. He had been casting for days now, without sleep or nourishment. Illidan was proving to be stubborn. The polished skulls around Gul'dan's neck rattled as he lowered his shoulders, their clatter soft, familiar, reassuring. He murmured a spell, and the pain disappeared.

He paced before the portal, rubbing his fingers against his jaw, thoughtful. He could increase the amount of sacrifices. No. He had done his calculations carefully. He had already overcompensated by a wide margin. If he were to use more souls, he would have to create a bigger portal. He grunted, dissatisfied. No time for that. He reached out and touched the portal, seeking. Ah, there was something unexpected. The tethers were not lost. They were gone, as though they never existed. Hmmm. He pulled his hand away. That left one possibility, as improbable as it seemed.

Something from within the Nether was consuming his tethers. He glanced at the body--half-demon, half night elf--hanging suspended beside the portal, tethers of fel energy pulsating around him, feeding the corrupted pieces of Illidan's soul back into it, piece by precious piece.

Gul'dan chuckled, he liked games, especially those he knew he was destined to win. He prodded the body with his staff, watching with satisfaction as it stirred. It roused from its slumber, neither living nor dead. The thing's eyes opened, malevolent. It glared at Gul'dan, filled with hate.

"So Illidan, it seems you are not as helpless as you have led me to believe."

A hiss of indrawn air, followed by a deep voice, resonating with ancient power. It filled the Chamber, echoing from the walls. "Never touch my avatar again."

Gul'dan gaped, incredulous. It couldn't be. He was only half finished with the transfer. From the edge of his vision, he caught the Eredar breaking off from their spell casting. They sank to their knees, their heads bowed, reverent. Gul'dan hunched down onto his good knee, keeping his gaze fixed on the smooth flagged floor beneath the hem of his robe. "Master?"

The fel runes surrounding the portal and on the floor glowed brighter, resonating to the voice of Sargeras. "You are failing me, Gul'dan."

Gul'dan shifted, uneasy. A setback, nothing more, and he had it in hand. He glanced up, the hybrid writhed in its bonds. Fascinated, he watched the struggle between Illidan's body and his tainted, stolen soul, attuned for Sargeras. He answered, "The tethers do not return. I believe Illidan is somehow preventing them from-"

A laugh, harsh, scathing. "Fool. Illidan does nothing."

Gul'dan felt his grip tighten on his staff. He was no fool, Sargeras needed him. He should remember that. Still, Gul'dan's uncertainty of what sort of destruction the hybrid could unleash made him choose his next words with care, "My Lord, I beg you, tell me what I must do, and it shall be done."

Illidan's face twisted, fighting to hold back Sargeras's words. "Bring . . .the woman . . . here."

Gul'dan lifted an eyebrow, puzzled. What did this have to do with the missing tethers? Sargeras seemed to be waiting for him to respond. Gul'dan cleared his throat, and hazarded a guess. "Elisande?"

A sneer, followed by another struggle as Illidan tried and failed to prevent Sargeras from speaking. "Not that pretentious, ridiculous creature. No, you will bring me . . . Tyrande. Put her here . . . beside him, where I can see her."

Tyrande? Why? She was not part of their plan. Gul'dan suppressed his irritation, he didn't like having to change directions, especially when he was so close to finishing this task. "That might take some time. Shall I focus my energy on your avatar first, and then find the woman?"

The fel runes burst into flames, filling the Chamber with pillars of green fire. "You will never free me until you find her," Sargeras roared, his eyes blazing.

Gul'dan crouched lower, waiting for the flames to die down. So Tyrande must be the reason the tethers were going missing. But how?