Massive Nerd

(Read the previous entry here or refer to the Fiction Index for a full listing.)

Sylphine has paused for an extended period of time. She adjusts the candle, picks a stray thread from the hem of her robe, almost as if unwilling to go on with the story. Finally, taking a deep breath, she continues her tale.

Mother was wrong. I would never see her at all after that night.

Though on the cusp of womanhood, Rina was not ready for the loss of another parent. While not at my studies or performing chores, I tried to spend as much time with her as possible.

One night, while Rina was sharing my bed, it happened. A scream jolted me from dead sleep. Instantly, I knew something was wrong. It was as if a part of me, a small feeling always in the back of my mind had disappeared.

Rina barely stirred. Perhaps my magical training made me more attuned to certain things. I decided to let her rest.

Tomorrow, I would have to tell her than mother was dead.

Though Sylphine's story has been full of tragedy, this is the first time tears appear in her eyes.

But no, that was not enough. No flame was present in my room, it was pure dark. Although I would have thought it impossible, the room grew even darker. A wave of revulsion struck me, one unrelated to the loss of my mother. Something dark, something sinister, something evil had come to our sanctuary.

The next morning, I broke the news to Rina. The poor girl was inconsolable. I tried to bring her breakfast, but she would not eat. I decided to skip my studies that day, so as not to leave her alone.

I should have known that would not be allowed. Fara soon came to my door to summon me as well. "I know nothing of your mother, but it doesn't matter. Your training stops for nothing."

"But, Fara, can't you see my sister needs me right now?"

"Your sister is old enough to take care of herself. If she can't pull herself together, then perhaps she isn't strong enough for this world." Fara could see the anger and defiance in my eyes. "Girl, you are not a full Warlock yet. You WILL report for your training. If you do not, you will be severely punished. More importantly, I will be punished for failing to bring you, and that is something I promise you will regret."

I gave Rina one last hug and stormed past Fara. For the first time in my life, I was beginning to regret coming here. I did not give my full effort that day in training. As punishment, I was forced to stay later than usual. By the time I returned to my room, Rina was gone. She had returned to her own quarters and would not answer her door. I worried for her, but assumed she was sleeping, let her be.

Life changed drastically after that. My teachers were pushing me harder than ever before. My sessions were extending longer and longer, forcing me to work harder and harder. There were days when I had to choose between sleep and food, my free time was so little.

Worse, I was losing Rina, as well. She had taken to sleeping in mother's bed instead of her own. Rarely did she leave her room any more, and when she did she never spoke.

Just when I was reaching my breaking point, I received my first bit of good news in the months since mother disappeared. I was being raised to full Warlock.

You see, among Warlocks, power is secondary. I had plenty of power since my training started at fifteen. Only now, nearing the age of nineteen, had I gained the amount of control necessary to be considered a true Warlock.

The ceremony is unimportant. I'm sure you experienced something similar when you became a Paladin. What I do remember is the Grand Master. Grand Master Warlock Therin sat at the far end of the hall. He never said a word, but his presence overpowered the room. The torches near his seat seemed to shy away from him, as if the light itself were afraid to touch the Grand Master.

Freed from my status as an Adept, I was granted more freedom. Areas of the Sanctuary that had previously been off-limits were now open to me. Most notably, the library. I was encouraged to read the texts contained therein, so as to better understand the options available to me. From this point on, I would be studying on my own. No less would be expected of me, but I was free to choose my own path, unsupervised. I had demonstrated the control necessary to be a Warlock, if I pushed too hard, the fault was my own. Recognizing several titles in the library from Mother's bookshelf, I brought them back to my own room.

Though I could choose the path of my studies, I was still expected to dedicate the same amount of time to them. Rina was becoming increasingly distant.

Learning to summon further familiars, submitting them to my will, as well as memorizing complex incantations was consuming my life. I now know why Warlocks are so emotionally detached. I had not forgotten my sister, but no longer worried about her. She was old enough to choose her own path in life.

My work had not gone unnoticed, apparently. Within a year of being raised, I was summoned to an audience with Grand Master Therin. Fara showed none of her usual smugness when she delivered this message.

I went not to the Meeting Hall, nor Therin's study. Instead, I reported to the Summoning Room in the basement. Not only was the Grand Master present, but the rest of the Inner Circle, as well. The atmosphere in the room was almost oppressive.

Never in my life will I forget what happened next. Grand Master Therin spoke to me directly. His voice was not human. His tone was low, almost a whisper, but with a serpentine quality to it.

"Ssylphine, I have been watching you clossely ssince you arrived here with your mother. You are a very sspecial girl, my dear. You are being given a rare opportunity to help our order., the ssame opportunity we gave your mother."

Horror-struck, I was almost unable to reply. "You-you k-killed my mother!"

"No, young one," he replied. "Casssie gave herself willingly. Unfortunately, she wass found lacking. The ritual did not go ass planned. She wass able to ssusstain the portal long enough for mysself and the resst of the Honor Guard to come through, but burned out before our masster was able to crosss over."

I did not understand what was going on.

"You musst realize by now that we are no longer Therin and hiss circle. Therin wass a valuable minion, but I needed a hosst, and he will sserve."

"Mom would never do such a thing."

"Of coursse not. At leasst, not voluntarily. Casssie was merely a ssubsstitute for our original ssacrifice."

"Sacrifice?"

"Yess, dear. We wanted to usse you to open the portal."

Now, I was truly too terrified to speak.

"Oh, no. Don't worry your pretty little head. We've found ssomeone much more ssuitable for our purposse."

The being that used to be Therin raised his hand, motioning somebody into the room.

"Sylly!" Rina cried out, "What's going on? What's wrong with these people?"

"RINA!" I shouted, "Let her go, you monsters! I'll do anything you want. Take me."

"Sso much like your mother. I'm ssorry, dear, but little Rina here iss pure enough to allow uss ssuccesss. Unlesss..."

"Unless what? Name your price, demon."

"Unlesss you could bring uss one more pure. A Paladin would be ssatissfactory. You have until one week before the moon iss full."

So you see, I was left with no choice. I regret tricking you, and the horror that demon may unleash, but I will do anything to save my sister. She's the only family I have left.

I'm sorry, Paladin, but the full moon is in exactly seven days.

With that, Sylphine extinguishes the candle and walks away.

(Read the previous entry here or refer to the Fiction Index for a full listing.)

I suppose my childhood was a normal one. Dad worked with a trading caravan, running supplies to Lakeshire and other nearby cities. Mom stayed home with Rina and I. We were happy, living in our small house in Old Town.

I'll never forget that Autumn day. It was three weeks before my fifteenth birthday, Rina would have been nine at the time. Dad's boss came to our house. Rina and I watched from upstairs. He didn't stay long, but when he left, Mom fell to the floor crying. Rina ran down, but I was too scared. I knew Mr. Sarker would not be bringing good news.

Dad's caravan was ambushed by Defias on its way to Sentinel Hill. He wouldn't be coming home.

Sylphine pauses for a moment, lost in thought.

It would only get worse. Dad was a driver, not a guard. As such, Mr. Sarker claimed we weren't entitled to monetary compensation. We had no way to feed ourselves, no way to pay our rent.

We managed on our own for a little while. Mom would bake bread to sell, or make some spare money repairing tattered dresses. I even went down to the Trade District and sold flowers to shoppers. It wasn't enough, though. We would soon be living on the streets.

At dinner one night, I asked Mom what her life was like before she met Dad. She wouldn't answer, but quickly cleared her plate and left, asking me to look after Rina. Over the next few days, we rarely saw Mom. She would come home late at night, almost early morning, sleep for a few hours, cook us some food, then disappear.

I was old enough to worry than Mom was doing something... disreputable.

After several weeks, just as our savings were running dry, Mom came home with a smile on her face for the first time in months. She found us a new place to live, and said we wouldn't have to worry about money any more.

The next day, we packed up our remaining belongings, those we hadn't sold to buy food. I was worried we would have to walk a long distance to our new home, but was surprised when we headed straight across the Trade District, instead of heading for the main gates of Stormwind.

We were living in the Mage Quarter?

Before long, we were standing in front of what was to be our new home.

"We're living in a TAVERN?" I asked.

Mom stood there for a moment, then said, "Rina? Why don't you go pick some flowers right over there. I'd like to talk to your sister for a bit. Come sit down, Syl."

Confused, I joined her on a nearby bench.

"Sylphine, it's time you learned where I've been these past nights. When I was about your age, I started learning how to use magic."

"You were training to be a MAGE?"

"No, dear. My training was not in the Arcane. I joined a... family... where I learned to use Fel Magic." I opened my mouth to respond, but Mom went on. "Let me finish, dear.

"I spent several years living with my new family, until I met your father. These recent nights, I have reconnected with my brothers and sisters. They have offered to let us live with them, below this tavern, here."

"So, we're living with Warlocks now?" I asked.

"'Living with' isn't the right phrase. I'll be lending them my power. It has grown dormant over these long years, but I have rekindled it. And you, Syl, you will be training to use it yourself."

"But, I-"

"I'm sorry, dear, but this is not open for negotiation. These are the terms I was given for our living here, and if we don't agree, we have nowhere else to go. I have asked them to leave Rina out of this, at least until she is old enough to decide for herself. Please? I know Warlocks are painted in a negative light, but am I a bad person? We are merely misunderstood. Now, go fetch your sister, it is past time I introduced you to your new family."

And so it was. I was angry that I was not given a choice, but in time I realized that there was no choice. I started my training, working with a different teacher every day. Mother was right, Fel Magic is not inherently bad. Is it dangerous? Yes. If you are not careful to exert your will over the energies, they will consume and corrupt you. Swords are used to kill people every day. Does that make the swords evil? Fel Magic is a tool.

I grew to love my studies. Apparently, I was very attuned to the forces. Within three years, I was ready to summon my first familiar. After days and weeks of failed attempts, I finally managed to conjure an imp from beyond the Void. Ecstatic, I ran to my mother's room to tell her the great news.

Mom tried to smile, but it was forced. Something was bothering her. "Sylphine, my lovely daughter, we may not see each other much after this night. I have been chosen for a very special ritual, and I will be spending a great deal of time with the Inner Circle. I am very proud of you, and all that you have done for me and your sister. Please watch over your Rina, she will need you."

Before I could respond, there was a knock on the door, and Fara, one of the lower-ranking Warlocks entered the room. Not a word was exchanged, but mother rose to leave. She embraced me and whispered in my ear, almost as if she did not want to be overheard, "Keep control. Don't let others use your power."

And then she was gone.

(Read the previous entry here or refer to the Fiction Index for a full listing.)

Bells.

Again with the bells.

Although, this time, Corrigan could not only hear them, but see them as well, for the bells were tolling within his skull.

After what seemed like hours, the pain subsided to the point where Corrigan dared open his eyes. He opened his eyes to nothing.

Panic instantly struck Corrigan. Light save me, I've been struck blind! Raising his hands to his face, Corrigan realized that he was not blind. Rather, he was enshrouded in total darkness. He was incapable of seeing anything more than a finger's length from his face.

Lost, confused, numb and alone, Corrigan lay on the floor. As feeling slowly crept back to his extremities, he began to wish it had not. Corrigan had no idea how long he was out, but every muscle in his body ached. Attempting to stretch his legs, he found the walls of his cell too close to extend them fully. After some small exploration, Corrigan discovered his cell to be no longer than five feet on any side.

Gathering his strength, Corrigan rose to his feet, but not fully. The cell was too tight in that direction, as well. Slumping back to the floor, Corrigan thought back to the events leading to his capture. Who was that Warlock? Was he even a Warlock? To his knowledge, Warlocks did not possess the power necessary to put down a Paladin in a matter of seconds.

After a seemingly endless time, Corrigan heard something. A light sound, almost a shuffling. As it grew closer, Corrigan realized someone was walking toward him. "Who's there? Why have you imprisoned me? What do you want with me?" Corrigan's pleas were met with silence. "Answer me!" Still, silence. The footsteps paused momentarily, and Corrigan heard his visitor place something on the ground. Slowly, the footsteps began moving away. "No, wait! I am a Paladin of the Silver Hand, you cannot imprison me like this." Alas, his words fell on deaf ears.

After his anger subsided, Corrigan moved towards the bars that made up one wall of his cell. Feeling around, he found a small bowl just outside. The bowl contained a broth of some sort, weak and cold. Corrigan gulped it down greedily, not realizing how hungry he was until the liquid was gone. The meal came nowhere close to satisfying him.

Corrigan began to search his cell, looking for any hope of escape. His search did not take long, as his cell consisted of nothing more than a stone floor and cieling, three stone walls and a barred gate of some sort of metal, iron most likely. The stone was smooth, with no flaws to be found. The iron was rusted, but still far stronger than Corrigan. The search also revealed no mattress, no straw, not even a place to relieve himself. He had been stripped of sword and mail, with only his under-pants covering him. Corrigan could only hope his stay would not be long, as it was definitely going to be unpleasant.

In time, sleep took him.

And so, the next several days, weeks, months passed. Corrigan had lost all sense of time. He could have been down there for hours or years. The time passed uneventfully. His jailer came and went, never making a sound but for his steps. After the first several visits, Corrigan gave up communicating. They kept him fed, but just enough to keep him alive. Water, bread, broth. Once his broth contained a piece of turnip. It must have been an oversight.

Left alone in the dark, Corrigan spent his time with the only activities available to him: sleeping and praying. Sleep came in fits. If he was not awakened by the vermin sharing his cell, it was the dreams. His malnourished mind was giving him bizarre, hallucinatory nightmares. He would wake with a start, but be unable to recall anything.

More distressing than his fatigue, prayer was equally unfulfilling as sleep. Despite his repeated efforts, Corrigan was unable to reach the Light. He was unable to plead to it for help. He was unable to draw strength and resolve from it.

For the first time in his life, Corrigan was truly on his own. He decided to make one last attempt at communicating with his captor. As his next feeding approached, Corrigan weakly called out. His voice had grown raspy from his tiredness and long silence. "Please. Speak with me."

Nothing.

He tried again on what he presumed to be the next day. "If you do not say something, I may die from madness."

Again, nothing.

At the end of his wits, Corrigan found himself actually sobbing when he was next visited. "If you will not speak, at least light a torch. Bring me a light so I may know the world still exists beyond these bars. I can take no more." Rather his words or his emotions got through, Corrigan heard the visitor hesitate, even if only for the briefest second. He could not let this opportunity pass. "Yes! A light. A torch, a candle, an ember, even. Return my sight, and I can carry on." The visitor stood there, silent as ever for a long moment, then turned and left.

Believing he had gotten through to the jailer, Corrigan anxiously awaited his next feeding. Bashing his head against the wall began to seem like a promising option if he was disappointed. In time, the footsteps returned. He was given his meager meal, but the footsteps did not leave. He heard a match strike, and a small candle was lit.

Even the tiny flame was too much for Corrigan's eyes. It took several minutes for them to adjust. A figure was seated outside his cell. Small, slender, perhaps even feminine. As his vision slowly grew sharper, a face came into view. A face with piercing green eyes.

"You! You're the woman from the city. You lied, you led me here. You're responsible for my torture."

"I am not responsible for your torture, Paladin. That has not even begun yet. I also spoke no lies. My sister was being held captive. I merely traded your life for hers."

"Then why help me now?"

"I may be outside these bars, but I am no less a prisoner here than you. I harbor no love for the ones who put you in here, and could no longer ignore your helplessness."

"So, you now have pity for me?"

"No, Paladin. Much like yourself, I am alone here. I have freedom of movement, but no companionship. They could decide at any moment that I have outlived my usefulness."

"Why now? Why not when I first called out?"

"I feared for my life. If I were caught speaking with you, I could find myself in the next cell. However, tonight, they are performing a ritual of some sort, preparing for your treatment on the morrow. I would like to bear my soul to you, Paladin. I have wronged you and would like your forgiveness. My life has not been an easy one."

"Very well, woman. It seems you have a captive audience. Speak, though you will not be likely to find forgiveness from me."

"My name is Sylphine, and this is my story..."