Thick Blood, Chapter I

Suffocating darkness.



The pitch black emptiness reaches its slimy tendrils against the naked, unprotected body. Fleeing feels like running waist deep in a pool of mud, but the creeping fear of approaching things slashes forward. There is shelter ahead, far in the distance; across the vast open darkness there lies a forest. Amidst the trees, perhaps there is a place to hide – a place safer than out in the open, exposed and helpless. Legs are burning from exhaustion and lungs are writhing in pain under the strain as the black swamp pulls down relentless and greedy.



Come. Come down. Join us. Give us your warmth. COME.



The things are drawing closer, yet despite the tremendous efforts the forest doesn’t seem to come any closer. The little light that it emitted seems to be, in fact, dimming, as if giving way to the all compassing and brooding darkness. The realization of the vanishing sanctuary drives an icy stake through the heart; there isn’t enough time! With the remaining strength mustered, a last desperate leap is taken; a last endeavour for escape, an attempt to flee this horrific world of malice and dread. Perhaps it would be enough.



Please let it be enough.



A disgusting slosh echoes into the darkness as the face meets the hungry black ooze below. With the last surfaced eye the last flicker of the forest is visible, just for a second, before even that last glimmer of hope is snuffed out. Utter, overwhelming and ominous darkness descends, nudging itself tightly close with sadistic pleasure – engulfing the defenseless, horror-struck and naked body.



The things move in.



Slowly, taking their time, savouring the stifled whimpers – licking at the fear in the air – they circle their prey in the black endless night. As they slither ever closer, a memory strikes a horrific thought into the flapping heart. A though dreadful beyond comprehension.



This has happened before.



This has happened before, and it will happen again. And then again. And again. And again.



As the dark creatures leap on him, only a second away from committing horrors otherworldly, he realizes his prayers for death are in vain.



Yet, he cannot help but to pray.










Gentle ripples frolicked to break the water’s calm mirror surface like children of the pond, racing around to stir life into its tranquility. Young boy – of elven descent himself – watched in silent thought as the toes of his feet brought about the hint of disruption in the clear and peaceful pond.



It was just about the most exciting thing that had happened the whole day.



The boy lifted his gaze from the ripples and let it sweep the surroundings. The glade was at peace; the veils of the canopy were itching back and forth drowsily, humming a symphony of the eons past and a whispered assurance of those yet to come. Occasional wisps floated amidst the gnarled ancient tree trunks, and a soft light seemed to pulsate from the softly swaying undergrowth, evaporating any shadow that’d dare to trespass on these sacred grounds.



Darnassus was boring as ever.



The boy pulled himself up and stretched his muscles sluggishly. Maybe getting on with the errands he left his home for might provide some form of excitement in this static capital of the elven nation. And maybe he’d grow wings if he just hoped for it, he sneered in his mind. Just as he was turning to head for the Tradesmen’s terrace, he saw a black spot from the corner of his eye amongst the verdant green and gentle purple landscape. Thinking it as nothing, he took a few steps before halting. Perhaps, just perhaps there was indeed something interesting. As he turned to have better look, he saw a dark clad figure in the distance – a figure foreign to the scene, an avatar outsider to the painting of harmony.



The errands could wait, the boy thought suddenly, as he ventured to explore the dark presence that began to intrigue him more and more with every step.

Darnassus’ cemetery was a tranquil place. Barren stone monuments stood to remind the living of those that were no more. For some, however, no such memorials were necessary. Certain recollections of the departed were still painfully present – a constant presence – refusing to fade even under the all-eroding flow of time.



The boy carefully examined the solitary elven figure, curiously sneaking closer. The elf stood clad in a dark battle gear amidst the majestic tombstones. There was something familiar in that posture and in that long white flow of hair. In spite of his suspicions, he was caught utterly off guard, when he was suddenly staring into a familiar pair of sharp eyes from the past.



“Hello, Frazer”, the elf said, scrutinizing the boy with a stern expression.

“F-Fenuviel?” the boy stuttered, memories from years gone flooding into his mind. He remembered his journey to the Eastern Kingdoms, and his misfortunate quest to learn something about his father.

“Ah, you remember, I see. Yes. You seem to be doing all right. I half thought something dire had befallen you when you disappeared”, Fenuviel mused, appearing nonchalant as he fished an old looking pipe from the folds of his tabard. He kept an eye on Frazer as the boy was gathering his composure, filling his pipe as silence weighed on the two.



“What are you doing here?” Frazer managed to blurt out finally, blushing slightly for so awkwardly losing words. He recalled Fenuviel fondly as a soothing presence – the only person he could count on in the chaotic kingdoms of the lesser races – like a rock within a storm.

“My brother’s here”, Fenuviel murmured and glanced around indifferently, his gaze seeming to sweep not as much the tombstones but rather the surface of the ground instead, as if his brother might be lying anywhere amidst the undergrowth.

“My condolences”, Frazer whispered his flush deepening and his gaze moving to his feet.

“It’s no matter, really”, Fenuviel snorted, shrugging impassively.



”Staying out of trouble?” he added, after yet another awkward silence.

“Oh, yes Sir. All nice and peaceful here” the boy said, looking up and offering a weak smile. “Have you come to Darnassus to pay your respects to your brother? Or is there something else that brings you here?” he continued, peering more bravely at the older elf he had once looked up to so.

“Not really, I didn’t exactly weep for his passing. I was more reminiscing, I suppose”, Fenuviel replied idly, staring at a spot on the ground that was well off from the graves. Something was different. Something had changed in the elf. Frazer couldn’t put his finger on it, but it told him to be wary.



“Why did you choose to leave Stormwind?” Fenuviel asked after a pause. The silence seemed to take its own space in their conversation, as if it was a third presence, slithering in the background. “You left in an awful hurry…” he added, peering at the younger elf and lifting the old pipe to his lips.

“Well, the truth is… Someone didn’t like me asking too many questions, I suppose… And made the point across clearly and concretely”, Frazer murmured in response, scratching the back of his head.



“And you fled?” Fenuviel asked.

“Yes, I didn’t know what else to do. I guess my mother was right. She always insisted I was better off not knowing anything about my father”, the boy smiled weakly, looking up again and studying the expressions of the other.

“I can’t say I disagree with that”, the older elf pondered, his visage revealing nothing but his apparent indifference, as if they were discussing completely trivial matters. This matter was, however, far from trivial to Frazer. Increased blood flow brought color to his cheeks yet again – this time from the suppressed frustration.



“You don’t know what it’s like. Not knowing your heritage, where you’ve come from. Not knowing who you are!” Frazer blurted, glaring at the older elf, who for the moment represented the great forbidden secret of his life. Despite the outburst, Fenuviel merely regarded him, letting a bit of smoke curl away from his lips. “It makes me feel lost and without a purpose. I have accepted the fact that I will never know truly who he was. He is dead. But… If I’d just know something… Perhaps I could… Understand. If nothing else, than why I’m being treated like this”, the boy breathed, calming down and looking up at Fenuviel.



“You’re being treated in what way?” Fenuviel replied, arching a brow.



“I mean, everyone treats me like a child. Like I’d try to follow my father’s footsteps. I know he was… Not the nicest of people. But it’s frustrating how no one trusts me enough to walk my own path. I am not my father”, the boy moaned, looking into Fenuviel’s eyes pleadingly. “If I don’t know my father’s mistakes, I might repeat them without knowing”, he ventured even further, reaching out a last feeble attempt to break through the older elf’s barriers.



“I do not think your father’s nature was hereditary either. And I do not believe you could accidentally become him”, the older elf mused quietly. The foreboding silence fell again over the two elves like a veil of dark silk. As it did, the younger elf noticed that it was already getting dark. The ritualistic tombstones, glimmering slightly in the fading light, reminded the boy suddenly of skeletal teeth. The boy stood his ground bravely, mustering his courage; he would not back down now. He waited patiently for the older elf to reveal something more about his mysterious father.



The father he had been told not to speak nor ask questions of.

“I held a great deal of respect and affection for your father. And I still do. For all the pain he caused, he still helped me in the end. Perhaps, in terms of what was best for the world, he certainly was not it”, Fenuviel mused eventually, a hint of a wry smile appearing on his lips as he looked into the boy’s eyes. However, the younger elf couldn’t be certain whether the older elf was looking at him or something beyond.



“There is something in common with you – the people of whom I’ve tried to learn more of my father, I mean”, the boy said tentatively, peering intently at Fenuviel.



“What is that?”



“A contradiction. The recollections of him come across, in all instances, as unpleasant, cruel and even malicious. Yet… the voices reminiscing about him, are filled with tones of sadness and longing”, the boy contemplated, his voice trailing off.



“He had a certain ability of manipulating both love and hate, so perhaps that is why there are such mixed responses. At the very least, you had to admire him. Even if you hated him”, the older elf reflected quietly, letting a wisp of smoke swirl from his mouth. The young elf licked his lips, gathering courage to ask the next question.



“Do you think he ever… loved anyone?”



“I do not know. I believe he cared for me in some sense, but I don’t think it extended that far. He was close to… a woman, but you’d have to ask her. I didn’t”



“…who?”



The older elf spat out the name in unmasked disgust. A familiar name of a Lady the younger elf had met in his journey to the Eastern Kingdoms. The conversation gave way to the heavy silence that settled in along with the creeping darkness. For a long while, both were lost in their thoughts in the fading light, amidst the long shadows of stones decorated to honour the dead.



“I wish I could speak with him. Just once. Just for a moment. Maybe then, I could see how the contradictions are possible…” the boy yearned into the night. “Do you think… There could be another like me out there? Could I have a brother? A… sister?” the young elf whispered suddenly, breaking the silence. His companion in the dark merely shrugged; there was no way to know.



The boy peered between the trees into the clear night sky, his bright eyes eagerly gazing the vast expanse of the space, as if looking for a brother or a sister amidst the gently twinkling stars. Suddenly he didn’t feel so alone anymore, imagining them somewhere, someplace far away, looking at the same stars and thinking of him, aching for the same as he – for someone who’d understand.



“Don’t be afraid, little sister... I’m coming for you”, the boy whispered into the ever thickening darkness that had slowly begun to engulf him.

“You’re far too kind, M’lady”



“Call me by my name, please, I am called Elder, Lady and so forth far too often”, the Lady smiled softly, her beautiful features lit in gentle candle light. The boy felt awkward in her presence; his mouth had grown stiff and his limbs felt clumsy. He couldn’t help but to stare at her unnaturally soft and exquisite features, but at the same time he knew he should not.


“I’m glad you’ve come. It would please me to hear what happened to you after we last parted ways, and even… How you are. In the end, your father was quite important to me”, the Lady spoke sweetly, her voice warm and reassuring.

“I’m afraid there isn’t much to tell. I continued my search on my heritage, more specifically the undertakings of my father. Many showed signs of recognition, but alas, very few were willing to admit even that”, the boy shrugged, blushing faintly and averting his eyes.


The boy glanced discreetly about. The two crimson clad elves were still in the room. A pair of silent, ominous sentinels, biding their time – for what, Frazer did not dare to guess. He lifted his gaze to the serene Lady in her spotless white gown, and the contrast between the mistress and her followers made him squirm in his seat. The reluctance to continue did not go unnoticed by the Lady.


“Surely there is more. What did the charming Fenuviel tell you?” the Lady smiled softly. “I will tell you your father’s story in length soon. I just know better where to begin, when I know how much you’ve already learned”, she allured further, her words soft as spider’s silk.

“He was one of the few who admitted to knowing my father. And the only one who shed at least some light on what kind of a man he was… however, even he was keeping secrets. Plenty of them, I feel”, Frazer muttered – feigning profound interest in his wineglass. The Lady nodded in understanding, perhaps even agreeing.


“Your father was a complicated man”, the Lady recalled, her voice growing distant in her reminiscence. “I was his lover once. When we were together he was all one could wish for. I like to think he really loved me, cared for me and desired to protect me. Like a lover usually does, no? And yet, one night, to punish me for attacking our associates… he nearly killed me without even twitching”, the Lady recited calmly, her expression unwavering. “What do you think of a man like that? What does the story tell you?”

“I… I don’t know what to say”, the boy swallowed, gulping down a sip of wine to fortify his courage.

“What did your mother tell you about your father?”

“She refused to speak a word of him. And she was persistent. I was even punished when I insisted too strongly.”

“Such a man as he, who could kill his lover without hesitation, who hated to lose, took what he wanted… Perhaps that was your mother one night”, the Lady mused, her soft smile never ceasing. The boy failed to suppress a shudder, seeking yet again relief from his glass of wine. He suddenly started to feel incredibly drowsy, which he thought strange. He was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open, and his tongue felt heavy and clumsy.

“What do you think? Should I even attempt to bring such a man back, even though he has done so many terrible things?” the Lady mused through the shroud of soft mist, her voice a distant muffled echo.

“…bring… back?”

“Yes… If I could bring back your father to the living. Should I?”

“…I never… knew my father…”


“Should he be brought back? Yes or no?”



“...if… I could talk… to my father… just for once… I’d be... happy”



The boy sunk gently below the pleasant, silky surface. Everything was quiet and soft. As he floated downwards in the blissful, caressing depths, he felt calm and relaxed. He felt so at ease that he never noticed how dark it was down there.