Not a sound could be heard. No lowly bellows of the lumbering, musky clefthoof which roamed the plains. No birdsong or screeching from the rylaks which inhabited the cliff tops. No howling winds that swept through the canyons and over the snow-covered mountains.

Nothing.

Just an eerie silence.  

Music: RISE OF THE BLACK CURTAIN by Audiomachine   

https://youtu.be/EpI1zFoeQ10

The black nimbus which had appeared and grown for days, just off the northern tip of Frostfire, pulsed and writhed like a giant cocoon, preparing to burst forth with the miracle of new life. But this cocoon did not promise such a wondrous display. Within its centre lay nothing but death and decay, a cancer, the devourer of life, snuffing out hope and light. It's baneful, nefarious ubiquity was a toxic, deleterious blister, which hung with contemptuous intent above the landscape.

Then, from within the cloud, a low, menacing sound began...

As its embryonic thrum began to build, other sounds joined its chorus. The beasts of the plains had finally found their voices as the ominous vibration filled the air. Panic gripped the creatures of Frostfire. At first, there was a disorganised flurry of wings, a too-ing and fro-ing of hooved and pad-footed creatures. Frightened shouts and screams from within villages and hamlets travelled over the fire and ice landscape.

The cloud began to roil and fold. Eyes looked skyward as the nimbus opened in an unearthly yawn; the sound omitted like that of a colossal door opening on rusted hinges. One final pulse, then, like a back-draft and flash-over of fire, it exploded. Hurtling forward, with uncanny velocity, its shadow turned the pristine snow ashen and black.

From within the murk, enormous, shadowy creatures descended. Flashes of electric energy crackled and whirred around their alien forms. Heads, shoulders and arms were emblazoned with esoteric armour, their bulk tapering to ether-like tails which hovered just above the snow. Cruel eyes, brilliant, emotionless specks, surveyed the land before them.

Their mouths opened and ear-shattering ululations reverberated across the sky. Twisters formed, pounding the ground in dull, booming thuds. They broke apart the ice and snow; exploding shards and crystallised flakes quickly swallowed by the whirling winds.

In a most disturbing ballet, the creatures swept their arms, directing the vortexes across the land. In their wake, the ground shattered and splintered. It was sucked up and disintegrated within the deadly grasp of the twisters. The residue was spat out and sifted again until it was nothing more than dust, ghosting its way upwards to Great Dark Beyond.

The creatures and peoples of Frostfire fled in terror; a unified stampede towards the east. Orcs and trolls were trampled underfoot by terrified, snarling wolves and bellowing clefthoof. Agonised screams and roars were now lost amid the sounds of destruction. Birds and rylaks, abandoning their young, took to the wing, leading the way across the ice-covered plains.

Those unable to outrun the encroaching doom were snatched up; converted to blood and pulp, devoured, processed, regurgitated. Their remains were thrown to the elements, the cosmos, the void.

The ground was ripped apart, fissures, gaping chasms and newborn canyons were formed in the wake of the lords of shadow. Little survived their passage, most was simply erased, as if it had never existed.

Any sources of magic, be they in the form of ley-lines or individuals who practised the arts, were exorcised by the Void Lords themselves, enabling them to draw on the raw power, imbuing them with even more destructive force. They followed the fleeing creatures and peoples of Frostfire, their appetite knowing no boundary.

The Void Lords had begun their destructive journey. Armageddon was on the march.

☸

Music: DEED AND  DESTINY by Sound Adventures

https://youtu.be/H5NvCwwA0go

The confrontations with Khadgar and Modera had left Sarah filled with a mixture of dysphoria and irritation.  Her conversation during the evening meal had been non-existent.  Her eyes had looked inward, as she quietly assessed her life. 

Khadgar's words since this had all began bombarded her thoughts.  You should not have come here... Steel eyes bore into her.  Stay out of my head Sarah. It is off limits.  Perhaps you immortals will be safe... She fought to keep the tears from flowing again.  With you, his little pet beside him, perhaps?  

Your son needs you.  Your son needs you. Your son needs you... 

She got up abruptly and moved away from the group.  Drew made to go after her, but Illidan gestured for him to sit still.  "She needs time," the demon hunter whispered. Drew, nodding his head,  reluctantly agreed to remain where he was.  

Digging her hands into her jean pockets she stood, staring out to where they suspected the Void would attack from.  She could not fathom what it was she was meant to do now.  Everything from the Naaru to Drek'thar had been so bloody cryptic.  Was no-one able to just tell her outright what the next move was? 

What if they were really fucked? Modera's sanctimonious visage floated across her mind. The fact that had you not infected and distracted him with your foolish Earthly wiles ... Yet, he leaves you out here, with a blanket. Ah, seems I am wanted.  Sarah fumed. "Bitch!" she hissed under her breath. 

The Iron Horde could cream this lot in minutes and this pathetic Void.  

She blinked. Had she heard right? She inclined her head towards the group all still sitting,  chatting around the campfire.  

I'd serve that Archmage up to them for dinner, (a laugh), then fuck his woman every which way possible.  

She spun around. Her eyes searched all the faces around the campfire.  It could only be one of two, she reasoned.  She had a good idea which one too.  Her eyes rested on Mick, who lay a few short feet from the others, arm behind his head, staring at the Kirin Tor camp with a smirk on his face.  His eyes turned and met hers.  He seemed to catch his breath. Then a slow smirk crossed his mouth. 

Bet you'd enjoy me better than that grey haired prick anyway.  

Sarah made sure her face stayed deadpan.  She cleared her throat, then turned and sauntered over to where Mick lay. 

Oh lookie here, she's interested already.  

     "Mind if I join you?" she asked.

     "It's a free world," he said, smug. "For now."

She was finding him more than a tad repugnant.  "So how are you finding Azeroth?" she asked, pretending to be interested in the vile little worm's opinion.

     "Pretty much what I expected, really," he replied. "Like the game."

     "Like the game," she repeated.  A small laugh escaped her. Oh, how wrong he was.

     "Yes. The world is a bit bigger scale-wise I guess, but otherwise, the same."

She shifted, leaning back on her hands and crossing her feet at the ankles. "So what would be your solution to the Void?" she asked.

     "Me?" he laughed. "No idea."

     "Really?" She looked straight at him. He met her eyes and instantly he knew something wasn't right. "Quote: The Iron Horde could cream this lot in minutes and this pathetic Void."

His face went slack. He tried to sit up but she moved with alarming speed and brought her heel down on his groin, pinning him.  He looked up and saw the fury in her eyes - they glowed white-gold.  He noticed the glow under her shirt.   

Illidan appeared behind her as did Drew and Bernie but she signalled to them not to interfere.  Pressing on her foot that covered his manhood, she knelt down, her glowing chest resting on her knee. "You were right back at Stonard you little snake. I do read minds and I just heard every foul little word your sorry excuse for a brain thought."

     "I-I didn't mean it. It was just bravado..." Mick stuttered.

Sarah's tattoos flared. "I can easily have you cast down to join the Iron Horde if you so wish but be rest assured, they will eat for you breakfast or, if you're really unlucky,  maybe they'll  even fuck you every which way possible first!" She saw his eyes widen in horror. "Either way, the Void will then take you all out in seconds. It can be arranged, I just need to give the word." She gestured for Illidan to come forward.  As the demon hunter drew up beside her once more, he unfurled his wings and with a loud snap, they were extended fully.

The skinny Earthling wriggled beneath Sarah's foot. "I'm sorry! I was kidding," Mick was genuinely apologetic.  Between the muscle-bound Tauren, crocolisks, green drakes, spiders, Illidan and Sarah, he decided in that instant she was definitely the scariest.  

With a nod of her head and a smirk, she signalled for Illidan to move back. He folded his wings, turning away to hide a grin. Sarah looked back at Mick. Her heel still threatening to cause him injury, she leaned down again. 

Her face hardened once more. "And as for that comment about the Archmage and me, you've got his wrath to look forward to now as well. Providing I don't decide to finish you first. The only prick in this entire universe has his balls at the mercy of my heel right now.  Forget that not, and one day you just might become a fraction of the man Khadgar is."  

She stood, keeping her foot in the vital position adding a little pressure to further her point. Then with a snarl, she turned and rejoined her friends who were readying for sleep.

From that moment, Mick knew whose side he was on, and she would have no further trouble from him.

   ☸  

Music: IN LIGHT AND DARKNESS composed by Adrian von Ziegler

https://youtu.be/KMwhjZUBqUA

Drek'thar watched the scene at Sarah's camp with amusement.  His two wolves, Darkor and Ercka stood at his side, surveying the vast number of campsites in the shadow of the Dark Portal. "That woman is quite formidable," he mused.  

The wolves growled quietly as if in response to his words. He patted their heads. "They chose well with her." He glanced at the Kirin Tor campsite; to Khadgar's tent. "As did he." 

He looked down at Darkor and Ercka. "Now, you two be on your best behaviour, we have things that need to be discussed and I will not have you terrorizing these people." A small whine from both informed him they understood.

The shaman moved towards the Kirin Tor camp, his wolves close to his heel. On entering the circle of purple tents, he was met by Modera.  Her haughty persona always at the fore, she stood, like some bodyguard in front of Khadgar's accommodation.  "Yes?" she enquired of the orc shaman.

Drek'thar grinned at the imperious woman. "Is he back yet?"

 Her breath hitched. "How do you know...?" she was instantly on guard, incensed that he was aware the Archmage had even left the area.

     "I know much, except that which I ask," he replied, matter-of-factly.  His enigmatic answer obviously irked the woman going by the instant thinning of her lips.

She tried to regain a little composure. Grinning, she formed a little test to challenge his professed knowledge - one which she hoped would provide the answer she sought herself. "And, I suppose you know from where he has returned?"

     "I do, yes." He didn't really but he was enjoying this game of wits she was desperate to play.  Now was not the time, however. "So, I repeat - is he back yet?"

She fidgeted and clasped her hands in front of her waist. "I do not think ..."

The tent flap swept open. "Yes, I am back Drek'thar. Come in." Khadgar said sternly.  The shaman took a moment to grin at the incensed Modera then stepped inside, ordering Darkor and Ercka to remain vigil.  

Modera stared at the wolves then lifted her eyes to the Archmage whose steel orbs remained inscrutable. "You may go, Modera," he said, the finality in his tone unmistakable. She bowed acquiescence and left to return to her own accommodation.  Khadgar closed the tent flap and joined his guest. 

     "Please, sit," he gestured to one of the chairs around a table, on which he had two goblets and a decanter of wine placed.

     "Thank you," Drek'thar said, accepting the wine as he took his seat. Khadgar poured some wine for himself and sat opposite the shaman. "It has been a while," Drek'thar said.

     "Since you have had good wine or since we last met?" Khadgar grinned.

     "Both," the shaman replied, a touch of humour in his voice.  They drank.  "Regarding tomorrow then," the shaman began, getting straight to business first.

     "Yes," Khadgar sighed, leaning on the arm of his chair, swilling the wine around his goblet watching it coat the edges of the silver.  "I must be honest with you, I am not... confident that we will defeat this enemy."

The shaman remained silent, studying the chiselled features of the man in front of him. He was well aware of the Archmage's abilities, he was by far one of the most powerful mages to come from Azeroth.  That said, he understood the man's misgivings on this latest foe they were about to face.  "All I know Khadgar, is that it will be a battle unlike any other you, or indeed I, have fought before."

     "Encouraging!" Khadgar sighed and raised his eyebrows before taking another gulp of wine.

     "Do not be so hard on yourself.  Your abilities will be required make no mistake, but I doubt they will have much effect on the Void Lords themselves. That goes for my own powers too."

The Archmage stared at the shaman, a look of disquiet settling in his steel eyes.  "Then I do not understand.  What good are all these people here, if we cannot defend our worlds against this enemy."

Drek'thar rose from his seat, placing his goblet on the table and taking account of the surroundings within the tent.  He prodded some of the scrolls and books that floated on a levitation spell. They fluttered in panic.  Further in one corner of the accommodation spun the arm of a planetary model which depicted some alien solar system.  He appeared intrigued by it for a few moments. Suddenly he spoke to his host again. "We each of us have a part to play in this life, Khadgar.  No matter how small or insignificant it may appear to some, it is an important link in the chain that binds us all."

     "With respect, that does not help."

The shaman chortled. "Sometimes Khadgar, I speak in riddles that even I do not understand." He glanced over at the Archmage in time to catch a look of stunned solicitude. The shaman's lips spread into a wide grin.  

Khadgar sighed, shaking his head.  "You even find humour in the face of extermination?" He could not help but smile a little too.

     "There is humour even in the darkest corners of our world, Khadgar." The two men replenished their goblets and the shaman retook his seat.

Drek'thar looked at his wine thoughtfully before he spoke again. "At first I thought to take my people through the portal to your world, but now I see that it would indeed be folly.  My people and all of those who are from Draenor will remain on this side of the portal, regardless.  Our numbers are here to assist in defeating the Void before it completely destroys all worlds with which we are linked."

Khadgar sat forward. "But you have already said that our powers are useless against it.  Therefore all we have done is offer it a quicker sacrifice by accumulating everyone in one place."

Farseer Drek'thar drained his goblet in one steady gulp. Khadgar offered more, but the shaman declined.  "As I said, we all have a part to play. Some parts sadly may be...brief, but necessary."

The Archmage bristled. Was he hearing the Farseer correctly? Had he knowingly offered lives to the Void?  In a bid to achieve what? He opened his mouth to protest, but Drek'thar held up his hand to quieten him. "There are others who are still to arrive. They will be the ones to defeat the Void."

     "Who?"

The shaman stood to take his leave. "Your woman and the demon hunter are key to this, Khadgar.  As are the two humans who host the spirits. They too must play their parts."

  "So, four individuals then? Six if you count the ghosts. They are going to defeat a power which is beyond the likes of our combined capabilities?" The Archmage stood. He breathed deeply in an attempt to stay calm.  

  Drek'thar had reached the tent flaps and was pulling them aside. "No," he said, enigmatically. "But I think even we will be impressed."   

Khadgar put his goblet down on the table rather clumsily.  "And are you saying their lives will be ... brief ?" he asked, a tremor in his voice. 

     "I honestly do not know.  I only saw them in a vision as being some sort of conduits, if you wish." With that, he turned and left. 

The Archmage stared at the flaps of the tent as they rippled in the wake of the shaman's exit.  Drek'thar's visit had not eased his mind in the slightest.  He would be in for yet another sleepless night.