Into the Light

28 | RESPITE

Illidan eyed Tyrande, shuddering within her prison of light. Her gown had burned away. As he watched, a new one made of light wove around her, covering her naked body. But there was nothing arousing in the sight. Her raw flesh bubbled, scorched and bleeding. Each time Tyrande healed him with Elune's Light, she suffered, the Light burning through her. Once Elune ceased her work on Illidan, her Light would shift to Tyrande, clothing and healing her. A never-ending cycle of pain and healing.

Her head hanging, Tyrande pressed her hands against the sides of the sphere, struggling to hold herself up. Her chest rose and fell, her breasts straining against the material of her gown as she sought to catch her breath. The last burst of Light from Elune had returned the final pieces of his heart to him, though he wasn't sure how much he appreciated it. He drifted closer, and put his hand against the sphere, covering Tyrande's hand with his. He wished he could touch her, hold her. She had given him his strength back, at least enough for him to think straight. Now he wanted to do the same for her.

She must have sensed his presence, because she glanced up, her eyes dull. Her lips moved, and he heard his name whispered on her lips. His heart clenched so tight it ached. He had survived the agony of Gul'dan's tethers, but nothing could compare to this, seeing her suffer--knowing he was the cause of it--and be powerless to stop it. A tear ran down the side of her nose. He smashed his fist against the sphere, bellowing with frustration. Anger, hot and virulent coursed through him. He welcomed it. He wished there was something he could destroy, anything to alleviate his pent-up rage. Even the excruciating pain of a tether would be better than this. But there was nothing here, nothing but his thoughts and hopes Malfurion would be able to recover his body from the Chamber soon, so Tyrande's suffering could end. Until then, all he could do was float, and watch Tyrande scream in agony as she channelled Elune's Light into him, burning in the flames of blue fire.

He looked behind him, searching the Nether for more tethers. It had been a long time since any had come writhing and searching for him. There could no longer be any doubt. The onslaught had stopped. The change had been slow at first, Illidan's hopes growing as the frequency of the tethers decreased. Now only the silence of the Nether accompanied them as they floated together through the vastness of its void. For Tyrande's sake he was glad, it had given her a much needed reprieve. But he had a bad feeling. Gul'dan was up to something, he could sense it, and whatever it was, it wasn't going to make things easier for either him or Tyrande.

He turned back to Tyrande. Her hands slid down the sides of the sphere, she fell, the energy within catching her. She floated, limp, her arms and legs dangling. He realised she had fallen asleep. Good. He hoped Elune would let her rest. He could watch for the tethers, and protect Tyrande. He felt strong enough to take the next ones. He watched her sleep, his hands pressed against the sphere, his arms aching to hold her. After all this time, despite the passage of thousands of years, his long imprisonment, his transformation into a demon hunter and his reign on Outland--even in death--his love for her remained unchanged. There had been others of course, hundreds of them had passed through the doors of his private quarters, eager to please him when he was the Lord of the Black Temple. But they were nothing to him. His heart always returned to her. There could never be another for him.

He waited, scanning the horizon in all directions, but nothing changed. All was as it should be, the spinning planets and steady procession of time streams carried on following their chaotic, incomprehensible paths, oblivious to the pair and the occupations of their little world. He looked back at Tyrande. How long had she been here in the Nether with him, encased in that sphere of pure light? He glanced down at himself. Long enough to bring him back from the edge of darkness.

He shuddered at how close it had been. She had arrived just in time, channelling Elune's Light into him, replacing piece by piece the parts Gul'dan had stolen, giving Illidan strength, and hope. He ran his hands over his chest, stripped of the glowing runes of a demon hunter. It was strange to see himself again as he once was. He had forgotten what he'd looked like, his transformation into a demon hunter had consumed all of him, even his memories of his other self. He had been powerfully built. He was glad, power meant much to him, even here, where it meant nothing. Tyrande turned over in her sleep, and lay curled on her side, her breathing deep and even. He touched the sphere, wishing for the thousandth time no barrier existed between them. She seemed so small. He didn't remember her being so slight. Perhaps it was just a trick of the Nether, or perhaps, what she was doing for him was killing her. His heart clenched at the thought. No. She would not die for him. If anyone would die, he would die for her.

He looked behind him once more, and cursed. Why was it taking so long?

"Brother!" he cried out, angry. "How much longer must she suffer?"