Magister Luminash Dawnwing

Speaking with Shadows

( Follows previous story posts, and takes place before the events of the Eternal Palace. )

With a sickening crunch, Lithendras’ body was hurled up and into the wall of Luminash’s tower, waves of arcane power pummeling him, and bonds constricting him, leaving his limbs to dangle helplessly below. The glow of magic was the only light in the darkened room, save the eyes of the magister and Rift Warden.

“Why have you come here, Ren’dorei? You dare show your face to me, with all the blood on your hands?”

The fury that had risen in Luminash upon hearing the familiar deep rasp of the Rift Warden’s voice - a sound seared into his mind in Nazmir, punctuated by the slaughter in his camp and the ensuing bloodbath at Dazar’alor - was immediate and violent. His reaction had been just as swift and forceful.

“Come to finish me off, to sate your bloodlust? Another civilian, another corpse?” As he spoke, his hands clenched, tightening the bonds around the Ren’dorei and pushing him further into the now-crumbling stone, pebbles dropping to the sea-damp floor with a clatter.

Gritting his teeth, Lithendras managed to choke out a response, “You persist in painting me in such a light? No matter…” The Ren’dorei sputtered a cough before continuing, “I have come to speak.”

“Speak?” Luminash’s rage rose higher, the cold faces, drained of their lifeblood, smeared with gore and the muck of the Nazmir swamp swam in his mind, “You presume now to speak, as if you had not wasted any chance you had at that!”

“You have something we require…” The Rift Warden sputtered again, coughing and wincing as a fresh wave of pebbles fell from the wall, spilling over his head and onto the floor below, “The runestone… I have come to negotiate.”

Stepping closer, his body beginning to surge with power, a floodgate opened from somewhere beyond, Luminash spoke, “Negotiate? You seek to steal from me my work, just as you did in Nazmir.” With a motion of his arm, Luminash hurled Lithendras from the wall, sending him crashing into the worn marble and sliding across the tower floor, “Why come with words this time, when force sufficed in Nazmir? Was only one man not enough to cut down? Do you need more?” His voice rose, soft at first, until it was a shout echoing from the cold marble.

Lurching up onto an elbow, the Ren’dorei wiped a smear of blood from his face and shook his head, “It is just like your Horde to cast such stones, as if your home is any less fragile than ours. They have…” He grunted and coughed again, flecks of blood dripping to the floor, “A key. To open the way. Knowledge and power unending, a lifeline for our people. With it… We could be reunited. Silvermoon would be free of its servitude.”

Luminash strode to the prone Rift Warden, lashing out and striking the man in the chest with his foot, pressing his back to the floor and knocking the breath from him once more, “We are free! We do not serve an untried child; we do not serve the memory of a traitor; we do not serve the whispers in our heads! You may say the Horde serves Death, but who has the blood of innocents on his hands? Which of us, here, Lithendras?” More flashes. Blood, soil, pain. Death. The letters, each written individually, each stamped by hand, each delivered in person. Tears, shouts, ringing in the magister’s ears. He lifted his foot, and stomped down, a wave of power following in his heel’s wake.

Lithendras’ lips parted in a guttural scream as the force pounded him into the floor, crumbling stone giving way beneath him. Spitting blood at his assailant, he shouted through clenched teeth, “You only prove all I have said, Dawnwing! It was foolish to believe any of the Sin’dorei had any sense left in their heads, or had the will required to seize necessity, seize the moment! You would let our people die rather than adapt!”

The magister leaned down, grabbing the Ren’dorei by his collar, teeth clenched and body shaking as he growled, “And you would take everything from us! Every man, woman, and child, we would all die, withering and wasting away as the Sunwell was swallowed up in your precious Void. And for what?”

The Rift Warden spat back, “Knowledge! You, of all of them, ought to understand! Your fear only holds you back, makes you weak, a child gazing out the window into the night!”

“I know your Void, I saw what it is capable of. On Argus, the visions, Lithendras, the nightmares! Do you think they have left me? Will they ever? Whatever it tells you, it lies! And it leads you to destroy your own, all in its service!”

“How can you be sure…” The Ren’dorei grimaced as he coughed out his words, “That it told you no lies? You have never peeled back the veil, looked beyond. Not an open window…” His laugh was hollow, mocking, cruel, “You never even opened the drapes!”

With a disgusted scoff, Luminash dropped Lithendras’ collar and stood, “What does it matter? I know what I saw. That is knowledge. Not the myriad lies it feeds you. I need peel back no veil. My eyes are set upon the fire itself, not its empty shadows dancing on the walls.” The magister raised his arms, arcane bonds once more gripping the Ren’dorei, lifting him helplessly from the shattered floor, “You have had your chance to speak. Now, let us be done with it.”

“You mean to kill me here, when I have come in the name of cooperation?” The Ren’dorei laughed again, “Naive of me to expect any different.” His voice was calm, as even as could be given his injuries, eerily still.

The calmness, the stillness in Lithendras’ body and behind his eyes, gave Luminash pause. It was unnatural. All the same, he shook his head, “No, not here. Killing you now would not serve any purpose but my own.” Luminash’s voice, too, became even, calm, and cold, “You will be returned to Silvermoon once this campaign has reached its end. You will be charged with treason, tried, and executed. I will see to it myself that your head is torn from your shoulders and left on a pike in the Exchange as a warning for all the rest of your kind.”

With a dismissive wave, Luminash sent his prisoner hurtling back into the wall once again, “The Sin’dorei will ever persevere. And nothing you do can stop it.”