10. Between Light and Darkness

Darksworn grinned discreetly as he saw Fira Firefriend and Rovena at the gryphon master in Darkshire. He had been meaning to buy passage to Stormwind, but he decided to wait now that he had come across the gnome that had disappeared for so long. Before she had 'met' Darksworn even.
"Following us around again?" he heard Rovena sneer. Fira's large blue, now shadow-tainted eyes glared at Rovena, and though the lower half of her face was covered in a mask, Fenuviel could clearly imagine her lips drawn into a frown, her nose wrinkled in distaste and anger.
"Don't flatter yourself, I wasn't looking for you!" the gnome snapped in a manner uncharacteristically sharp.
"You were looking for me..." Darksworn chuckled quietly. Divina had told him so. Fira nodded at this, but more were gathering. Darksworn sighed under his breath, as Fira began to become more agitated, shouting. The Elf bent down and took hold of the hood of her cloak, lifting her into the air.
"Hey-!!" she exclaimed in surprise as he toted her away, finding a more secluded spot where he could speak to her.

No one followed.

Fenuviel Darksworn set Fira down on a chair and pulled down his mask, flashing her a charming, but disturbing smile.
"My my... it has been a long time, hasn't it..? You don't even know who I am, do you?" he questioned. His voice was fluid, soothing, and yet held an underlying malice. Honey, poison.
"Who are you? I just need to know that..." Fira questioned as she stood on the chair, arms crossed haughtily across her chest.
"I am Darksworn," he answered simply. Fira looked at him in confusion. "Fenuviel died, you see. And yet... he is unfortunately very much alive now,"
"Unfortunately?"
Darksworn laughed.
"You think I want him to exist?" And it was this fact that Fira forgot as their words continued.
"I have come back to save Fenuviel, and Ayuria. To save everyone! I tried so hard, and I always got hurt... Everyone thinks I'm so small and stupid... not a threat..."
Darksworn grinned slowly. How often did this thought come to him?
"You're a dog in the cage," he replied. "Everyone's been stepping on you to try and get the meat,"
"I... think I understand what you're talking about," Fira answered slowly. "I'm so small I managed to slip out of the bars! But someone pulled me back in..."
Darksworn nodded.
"Your Fenuviel was a dog too. But he was trying to escape those that would step on him. He still wanted the meat... he was digging a hole out of the cage. But he dug too deep and lost the strength to finish. And instead of helping him, Shagrath just watched as the dirt fell back in and buried him,"
Fira frowned. "Don't dig, Fira. Climb. Step on everyone and climb to the top,"
"But I'm a bit too small..." Fira sighed, holding out one of her short legs and shaking her foot. Darksworn grinned.
"Then use those powers you have... blow them all away,"

Blow them away. Destroy the ones that hurt you. He should have seen where this idea would lead her. Or had it already been there? Darksworn helped to coax her anger.
"There are very few ways you can bring your friend back now, Fira," Darksworn grinned. He continued before she could speak, holding up one finger. "You could somehow convince his master to grant him the kindness and love he seeks. Which we both know is impossible, it would lead to this all over again," he held up a second finger, "Or you could kill me. It would give Fenuviel peace at least. But even that wouldn't stop this madness, for they would just bring me back," he held up a third finger, though almost hesitated before a disturbing grin spread across his lips. "Or...

Or, you can kill Shagrath,"

"That would bring Fenu back?"
Darksworn grinned.
"It would... free him," he replied. Heartsong and Darksworn had the same purpose, to serve Shagrath, but Heartsong had a goal. And that strength was not something to be underestimated. It was the only thing that allowed him to fight Darksworn with such fervor. But if Shagrath was dead... his purpose would be gone. Darksworn could crush him then.
"I will kill Shagrath! No, I will make him suffer for every day that he has made me suffer. And then I will kill him," Fira exclaimed. Fenuviel grinned broadly at the strange new blood lust in the small gnome. "Melnerag says my powers are not yet strong enough, so I must wait. That means one day extra for him to suffer for as long as I must wait,"
"How delightfully... awful," Darksworn grinned with a chuckle, this growing into a loud laugh. "And what a shame! I would help you, but I cannot!" Fira looked at him puzzled. "For now I have been granted the position of his Dark Myrmidon. I am sworn to protect him... but I do hope that you kill him,"

Darksworn paused as he felt a presence behind him. Turning, the Elf saw in the doorway of the small house a dwarf standing. He recognized him.
"Kharzim..." Another strange grin. "It has been a long time since I have seen you,"

Kharzim nodded to Fenuviel and greeted them both. It was not long before he noticed the 'change' in Fenuviel, though he refused to acknowledge Darksworn, thinking Fenuviel had simply gone insane. Which perhaps was just as accurate a description as any. And yet, they were joined by yet another. Nathën Soulblaze.
"Nathën too...?" Darksworn let out a laugh.

*     *     *

"Fenuviel was not foolish, Darksworn," Nathën glared at the Elf.
"No? Then what would you call it? Striving for a goal even when he knew it was impossible?"
"Nothing is impossible. Some things are just harder to achieve. What Fenuviel had was bravery,"
Darksworn laughed aloud. It wasn't even Fenuviel's voice anymore. There was a dark tint to it, something cruel.
"The line between bravery and stupidity is often very thin, Nathën, but I do not deny that having a goal gives him strength,"
"You are wrong. It takes strength to have a goal," Nathën replied in utter seriousness. Darksworn glared at him.

"Fenuviel could beat me. But you couldn't. You are weak," Nathën uttered.
"He couldn't have, the fool. He wouldn't," Darksworn hissed.
"And you would?"
"If my master asked it, of course," Darksworn glared.

*     *     *

What cheerful company... At least Fira he could control. So easily lead still by her desire to save Fenuviel. She didn't realize that by killing Shagrath she might doom him.
"Don't listen to him, Fira. If you touch Shagrath I'll rip you to shreds," Nathën commanded. Darksworn grinned maniacally at Nathën.
"You know Fenuviel only stays with the Sphere because of Shagrath, Fira... Kill him, and you'll set him free,"
"Darksworn is just trying to trick you," Nathën snapped. He knew what Darksworn was after.
"Would you kill me then, Nathën? For I too wish to kill him..." Darksworn replied, striding forward as he drew his sword, drawing to an uncomfortable closeness, his blade very near Nathën's throat.
"Darksworn, yes," he answered with an unnerving calm. It bothered Darksworn.
"But you cannot. Kill me and you kill him,"
"I did not mean the body..."
Darksworn let out a genuine laugh this time.
"Break me, then? As he was broken. Impossible! I care for no one, and so you can take no one away from me. How do you plan to do it then, Soulblaze?" Darksworn grinned.
"The power of the Light shall do it. It would never hurt a flawless being like Fenuviel. You are just that, a flaw. No better than the undead,"
Darksworn grinned darkly.
"You are more a fool than you think. You cannot kill me any more easily than Fenuviel." He needs me. How sad it was, that they did not realize. Fenuviel had willingly surrendered to him!

*     *     *

"Are we going to do this the hard way then?" Nathën sighed as the Elf prowled about him in a circle, reaching for his sword. An arrow protruded from the man's shoulder, and yet he had not lost his calm. Darksworn glared. He barely saw Nathën lift his fist... And then came a sharp pain, a dull blow. He felt Light surge through him, wracking his mind for a moment before he managed to force it away, recovering his senses. Darksworn's eyes blazed with rage as he looked upon the paladin. Nathën refused even to use his sword. He is mocking me!

"Don't hurt him!!" Fira cried.

The fight continued. The Elf nimbly darted about the bulky man, sometimes from a distance launching another arrow at him. But the blows kept coming. Flashes of light that burst in his face and knocked him back.
"Stop it!" the gnome wailed.

Finally, panting heavily, Fenuviel crawled away, his eyes suddenly going wide, childish almost.
"Nathën... you're hurting me!" cried Heartsong. Or in any case, a damned good impression of him.
"Fenuviel..?" Nathën questioned in surprise, drawing closer, though still somewhat wary. Fenuviel cowered, crawling like a wounded animal backwards.
"I told you not to hurt him!! F-Fenuviel, is that you..?" Fira whimpered, drawing nearer.
Nathën had almost reached him, was starting to kneel down...

Darksworn jammed his dagger forward into a gap in Nathën's armor, between his shoulder and chest plate with a growl, pushing him back. Laughing wickedly, he jumped to his feet and ran down the path, readying his bow as Nathën stumbled to his feet and turned about. A final blow...

But it wasn't Darksworn's to be had. Nathën held out a hand before Darksworn could release the bow string, Light flashing from his fingers. A brilliant explosion of light, brighter than any of the others, erupted in Darksworn, and he fell limply to the ground. Fira, Kharzim and Nathën gathered about him as the Elf cast them one last poisonous look before collapsing into unconsciousness.
"All of you are fools... don't you see it... so eager to believe it was him!" he chuckled.

*    *    *

A hand on his shoulder, shaking him. Fenuviel furrowed his brows. No... no... Don't make me wake up. The dreams are better, let me live a lie... But he could hear voices calling his name. Voices of friends, some from the past, some from the present. A sudden sharp chill ran from his scalp and down his spine, his eyes bolting open as water splashed down upon his head. He was staring at a pair of plate boots. Raising his gaze, he saw before him a haggard, but familiar dwarven face.

"W-What..? Kharzim? What are you doing here?" he questioned wearily, sounding dazed still. He heard a female voice cheer at his side and looked to see Fira. Fira! He hadn't seen her since... For a moment his face darkened to think about it. Instead, Fenuviel shook those memories away and grabbed the little gnome, pulling her into a tight hug.
"Fenuviel!" he heard her voice exclaim, muffled by the hug. Standing by in silence, Nathën gave a faint, warm smile, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.
"My friends... How did you...?" he trailed off. Nathën shook his head, smiling still.
"The Light would never hurt a flawless being, Fenuviel..." the paladin answered quietly. Fenuviel smiled at his old friend, though it was a somewhat puzzled smile. Flawless? He wanted to protest, to laugh, and question what could make Nathën even think such a thing, but Fira tugged at his hand. They were sitting in the middle of the road; hard stones and a cold night.
"Come one, let's go somewhere more comfy! I have a room... at the inn here..." she urged, and shakily Fenuviel got to his feet. He felt a dull pain in his body as though he had been fighting. Just as he had begun to inspect himself for wounds, he heard Nathën whisper a blessing, and with a faint tingle, the pain subsided. Fenuviel cast a half worried, half confused glance over his shoulder at the human as he followed after Fira.
"Were we fighting...?" he questioned. Nathën didn't answer.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, the gnome planting herself happily in his lap, Fenuviel smiled somewhat sadly at his friends. It had been such a very long time since he had sat in their company, undisturbed. All the Shadowlords slept, his master gone. Darksworn gone. No motives, no plots. He sat amongst them as friends. Fira conjured her special cupcakes for them. Old times. Fenuviel couldn't finish his though. It was a bittersweet joy. How long had it been since he had eaten one of her cupcakes? Since she had been happy enough to make them?
"Well!" Fira announced contentedly as she nibbled on her cupcake, "I never expected to complete the first part of my plan before the second!"
Of course what she meant by this was that she hadn't thought to save Fenuviel before killing Shagrath.
The Elf blinked at her, arching a brow slightly.
"What plan?" he asked, his smile wavering between amusement and suspicion. Nathën was staring hard at Fira, as though hoping his very will would silence her. Fira shifted uncomfortably, stammering slightly as though trying to think how to change the subject.
"Are there any drinks in this place?" The dwarf questioned from the corner.
"Yes! Let's go look for some drinks, Kharzim!" Fira exclaimed, seeming much too enthusiastic to join Kharzim as they went down the stairs to the bar. Fenuviel smiled slightly and let it go, looking towards Nathën.

The four spoke long into the night. Eventually Fenuviel did discover the source of Fira's new darkness. How Perun and Melnerag had begun to teach her, how she was beginning on the path to become a warlock. Heartsong mourned for the loss of the old Fira Firefriend, but he realized that very little had stayed the same. She was still Fira though. Still his friend. Still conjuring cupcakes and putting braids in his hair and trying to save the world.

Still there, somewhere, beneath the taint. Like he was. Not the same Elven boy that had run away from Darnassus, but not fully changed. They didn't want to believe that Darksworn could really be a part of him, and he was frightened to try and explain this to Nathën. That he had always felt it... the Darkness. How it had come to him after he killed his brother, when he had tortured Ramuh, and watched the woman he loved tortured before him. A soothing emptiness that took away all thoughts, all pity and compassion. I am not flawless... I am not of Light or of Darkness, but something in between.

"Nathën..." he breathed quietly to stop the paladin from exiting the inn. Kharzim had already left long before, and Fira had gone to sleep. The night was old, morning was approaching.
"Yes?" the man answered, turning back to look at his friend.
"Whatever you did... to free me... could you do it again?" the Elf asked cautiously. "I mean... if it were necessary, could you repeat it?"
"Yes," Nathën answered, though Fenuviel could see by the look in his eyes that he did not expect or look forward to doing it once more. Fenuviel kept his silence. He couldn't bear to explain to Nathën how he wanted to let Darksworn take over... to escape the pain and misery, and to protect everyone from him. His loyalty to Shagrath could ruin them all. But Darksworn was not devoted. He obeyed, but he was not devoted.

"Fare thee well, friend..." Fenuviel murmured into the crisp morning breeze. Nathën gave him a serious, but warm gaze, smiling slowly as he nodded from the saddle of his stallion.
"And may the Light protect you, friend," Nathën responded. He nudged the horse's sides with his heels and turned the beast about. Turning down the road, he was gone from sight in a matter of moments. The Elf let out a quiet sigh, and once again, he was alone. Darksworn did not return. It surprised him, and yet, somehow he felt emptier than he ever had before. But he knew who could save him from the agonizing quiet and loneliness. The ranger made his way slowly to the gryphon master, and with the exchange of a few coins, he was gone, and closer to happiness with each moment.