William King: Illidan

The paladin brought her gleaming hammer crashing down. It hit the ground in front of Illidan, splintering the stonework. He leapt into the air, wings beating powerfully, and surveyed his attackers. He spread his arms wide and called once more upon the power of flames. A huge fireball blasted down in the midst of his enemies. A warrior raced from the firestorm, burning cloak blazing behind him like the tail of a comet.

Illidan focused his gaze on the ground before him, summoning blue demon fire. A druid rushed into it. It clung to her form, burning her even as she rolled on the floor in an attempt to extinguish the flames.

Lightning bolts smashed up at Illidan from the ground. The air turned cold as one particularly bold wizard attempted to draw on the strength of ice to neutralize his power. Illidan sent a barrage of shadowy bolts raining down on him. The mage howled as they ravaged his flesh.

Now it was time to show these fools the true meaning of power.

He tossed his warglaives to the ground and then called upon the power within them. “I will not be touched by rabble such as you! Behold the flames of Azzinoth.”

Twin flame elementals leapt forth in answer to his call. A line of fire linked them. They swarmed toward his attackers, who moved into a defensive circle.

The Betrayer took advantage of this distraction to rest. Beneath him the invaders lashed at his summonings with enchanted weapons and a barrage of spells. Another pair fell before they could overcome the burning elementals.

Illidan marshaled the last of his strength, determined to slay as many of his foes as he could before death had a chance to claim him.

He plunged down amid his attackers, drawing once more upon his fel power. It encased his form, transforming him into something gigantic, demonic, unstoppable. He lashed out with bursts of flame, incinerating his foes, burning flesh and blood and spirit.

A warlock cloaked with spells of protection charged at him, staff raised high. Illidan struck at her, but the wards surrounding the warlock neutralized some of the power of his blow. More and more spells hammered at him. He felt corruption seeded within his flesh. It started to rot. He imbued the shadows surrounding his body with a fragment of his will and then separated them off to bedevil his attackers. He did this again and again as his opponents attacked.

He sent waves of hellish fire sweeping over them. It was getting harder to kill his foes, either because he was weaker than at the start of the fight or because all the easiest enemies to slay were down. The constant hammering of the magical bolts was draining his strength. The enemy attacks reached a crescendo as his foes desperately tried to bring him down.

Then came a moment of calm. He had ridden out the storm. He stood upright, glared at his opponents, and said, “Is this it, mortals? Is this all the fury you can muster?”

A cold, familiar voice echoed across the summit. “Their fury pales before mine, Illidan. We have some unsettled business between us.”

Illidan turned his head. An all-too-familiar armored figure stood there, weapon at the ready. At first he wondered if it was an illusion, a specter summoned from the depths of his imagination by some spell. His spectral sight told him otherwise. The figure had weight and mass and presence. He knew that armor well. He knew that blade. He recognized the arrogant superiority of the voice and stance. No doubt about it. Warden Maiev was here.

Rage boiled within him. He struggled to speak. All this time, he had her within his grasp and had not killed her. Now she was here. Memories of his long imprisonment flooded back. “Maiev…” How was it even possible?

But he already knew the answer. Akama. He had been responsible for her imprisonment.

Akama’s cohorts drew themselves up in a new battle line. They seemed to have gained strength and confidence from Maiev’s presence and his discomfiture.

Illidan could almost see the cruel smile curving Maiev’s lips beneath her helmet. “Ah, my long hunt is finally over,” she said. “Today, justice will be done.”

Maiev launched herself forward, blade swirling in her hand. Illidan tried to stop her. Evil shadows clawed at her. Waves of fire swept over her. Yet her armor protected her as she closed the distance. She lashed out at the Betrayer. He parried. They stood for a moment, breast-to-breast, close as lovers. She sensed the blazing fury in him, the pent-up hatred and energy.

She unleashed the spell she had brooded on during her months of imprisonment. The enchantment glittered on the ground before her and she stepped back from it. The Betrayer pounced, activating the spell. Bonds of energy lashed out from the trap, draining power from him. His face twisted as he realized what was happening.

Akama’s allies rushed into the fray, weapons bared, spells glittering in the air. Weapons thundered home. Illidan slashed at them, twisting to avoid their blows, countering their spells, but he had lost some of his fury. He stumbled forward into another trap Maiev had unleashed. The Azerothians pursued him as he reeled under the impact of the magic.

Maiev had eyes only for her ancient enemy. She knew, as surely as he did, that this would be their final meeting. One of them was not going to walk away from this. She thought of Anyndra, Sarius, and all the others who had died along the road to this moment. She thought about her own imprisonment. It had sharpened her hunger for justice. Her entire life had been leading up to this.

Maiev’s and Illidan’s weapons flickered too fast for the eye to follow. Blade parried blade. Ward countered destructive spell. Whatever Illidan threw at her, she neutralized. Victory rode on her every stroke. She was going to win. She could tell from his expression that Illidan understood this, too.

More spells smashed into him. She wanted to tell the others to stop. She wished to defeat him one-on-one, to enjoy a solitary triumph, but it was too late for that. She would have to settle for seeing justice executed.

The ending came suddenly. A flicker of steel and spells blurred the air and her blade bit home, passing through ribs, biting into flesh, seeking the heart that still beat in Illidan’s demonically mutated chest.

For a moment, he attempted to strike back. His lips twisted into an arrogant sneer. He looked as if he was about to utter another spell, but then the realization of what happened hit him, along with the pain, and he crumpled to his knees.

Illidan looked up in disbelief. His gaze met Maiev’s. Her eyes glared down coldly at him. Her stare belonged to a predator that had finally dragged down its prey. There was satisfaction there, and madness, and something else. She had killed him, but she did not realize what she had done.

“It is finished,” she said. “You are beaten.”

Feeling the pain exploding in his chest, he knew the truth of her words. His time had finally run out. All those long years of study, of fighting, of imprisonment were done. He looked at her and felt a fleeting moment of sympathy for her. She did not understand that it was over for her, too. He forced the words from his lips. “You have won…Maiev. But the huntress…is nothing without the hunt. You…are nothing…without me.”

Blackness swept over him. Just for a moment he had a vision of a sigil, the same one the naaru had placed on his forehead. It blazed in lines of golden light for an instant, and then the universe went dark.

Maiev stood over the corpse of Illidan. Her eyes narrowed as she studied her prey to make sure he was dead.

She was not certain what exactly she was waiting for. The exultation of triumph. The pleasure of a victory long delayed. Nothing came.

His corpse looked merely shabby in death. All the power, all the magnificence, had drained out of it. Here lay just another monster who had proved fodder to her blade. Looking at Illidan’s body, she thought, This is what I spent all the long millennia of my life trying to achieve? It did not seem to be enough for the expenditure of all those years and all those lives.