#but that poor undead kid deserved better than his terrible father

[istrys]

Turning Pages Turned to Stone (Finale)

Tyrasam took her time walking down the hallway. There was a lot she wanted to tell the woman who destroyed Zaldrannar, but she was conflicted; she knew Whitstan was the one who took Zerethel’s life, yet this Istrys woman was being punished for it all the same. Guilt crept up into the back of her throat for not speaking out against this obvious injustice, but judging how High Justicar Arveld addressed the three Undead, it wouldn’t have done them any good. The hallway itself was dimly lit with candles, spiraling down further into the earth, hidden away from prying eyes and the warmth of the Holy Light. When she found the single cell and the two guards near the end of the hallway, the Paladin took in a sharp breath before they took notice of her presence.

 “I want to speak with the woman who poisoned my husband.” Tyrasam addressed them as politely and assertively as she could, hoping they were in the generous mood to give her what she wanted; but they stared at her for several moments, questioning her intention.

 “Keep it brief.” One of them commanded, while they both stepped away from the iron bars. “And you will not enter her cell… and we will be within earshot.” She didn’t respond as they walked away, giving her enough space to step to the cell. The room itself was pitch black and silent, causing the Paladin to question whether or not Istrys was even in there. After several prolonged moments in deafening silence, Tyrasam suddenly heard the woman shift around in the furthermost corner of her cell.

“Have you come to mock me?” Istrys asked, while her fading cerulean eyes opened to reveal herself. “If you have anything you want to get off your mind, now’s your last chance.”

 “I’m not here to taunt you.” Tyrasam squinted to get a better look at the Necromancer, but for the most part she hid herself well in the darkness. A part of her wanted to tell her exactly what she thought of this silver-haired witch of a woman, but it didn't feel right to insult someone waiting for their execution. Tyrasam never trusted her around her husband, and the few times she walked in on them having a conversation alone would always spoil whatever good mood she had; thoughts of Zerethel cheating on her with this harpy made her stomach churn, but she did her best to hide these feelings, knowing no good would come from such paranoid delusions. “I wanted you to answer a few questions for me. When Zereth gave the order to betray Alucieus… what was he doing? What did he look like?”

 “Looked like a man who was losing his shit.” Istrys spoke dryly. “When Rethandus and Whitstan were done with their duel, which was fantastic by the way, your hubby wasn’t too pleased. He clutched his head and collapsed to his knees, mumbling something underneath his breath. When he rose back up to his feet, he was-”

 “I get the gist of it.” The Paladin frowned, tightening her grip around the iron bars. “So it really was fel poisoning… are you absolutely sure you weren’t responsible for that? I know you likely lied to High Justicar Arveld’s face… but was what you said true?”

 “I didn’t poison your damn husband.” Istrys hissed, her sense of humor vanishing once more. “I didn’t stop it from happening either, though, so I guess that’s just as bad. Not that it matters now.”

 “It matters to me.” She sharply inhaled again, momentarily distracted by her own thoughts. “And Rethandus? Whitstan? Were they involved…?”

 “You already know the answer if you have to ask.” The Necromancer closed her eyes and seemingly vanished from sight, but she was too weak to move around. “Ask them yourself. Both of them seem to have a weakness for your pampered princess of a daughter.”

 “I saw him and the Blackguard leaving Zaldrannar when I was shopping in Silvermoon.” Tyrasam started. “I saw the plumes of smoke rising from the nearby island an hour later. Was that Zereth’s doing?”

“It was.” the Necromancer leaned forward, letting what little light leaking into her cell illuminate half of her face. “A bounty was placed on you, your little girl and your late husband. Your grandfather-in-law wanted you dead. I’m sure you’d know why better than I do.” Tyrasam remained silent, unable to speak a coherent sentence with her thoughts in such disarray. She knew Zerethel’s father hated his youngest son, and hated her for loving him, but never in a thousand years could she believe he was capable of putting a hit on his own flesh and blood, his own daughter-in-law and even worse, sweet little Jaeras; the thought of his cruel grin spreading across his wrinkled face with their three heads presented to him on a silver platter made her stomach turn. Eventually she managed to push those thoughts aside, and glance back up at Istrys.

 “He would never…” She stuttered, unsure how to handle this news.

 “When Zerethel caught wind of this bounty, he decided to strike first. He brought me along with the Blackguard Elite, and we visited the homes of both of his brothers before we found Kolos himself locked away in Dalaran.”

 “He did it to protect us.” Tyrasam declared, unconvincingly. “He did it to protect me…”

 “Did he?” Istrys asked, slinking back into the darkness. “Or did he need a reason to slaughter his kin? He didn’t just kill his father, you know. He killed both of his brothers as well. He even killed their children. Zerethel wiped out the entire Kash’kaar bloodline, sparing only you and your girl. And the worst part…? He enjoyed it.” Tyrasam began breathing heavily while she glared at this vile woman, but she didn’t have anything to say. She was frozen in place, envisioning her husband’s spellflame consuming children. Children. “You should have seen the look on his face when he was deep frying his nephew. When he watched his brother flail slowly die by his flames. This wasn’t about revenge, or the need to protect you… he enjoyed it. He was smiling the entire time.”

 “I can’t…!” Tyrasam covered her mouth, but the Necromancer continued.

 “I’m a bitch, I’ll admit it. I got a thrill from killing people even before I became undead… and a few months ago I wasn’t above killing kids… but for him to do what he did to his own family? That’s a whole new level of fucked.” Istrys paused while she let the Paladin take in her words; if she was going to die tonight, she might as well tell this poor sap the whole truth. “That’s why I left the fel rune alone when I found it. Someone wanted him dead, and quite frankly, the world is better off without him.”

 “He wasn’t a good man…” Tyrasam started while she dropped her gaze to the floor. “But he was all I had…”

 “Well, what you had was legit evil.” The Necromancer leaned back to rest her head against the cold stone wall. “Be honest… if you knew a man who was capable of something like that… would you want him around? Would you want him around your little girl? Would you stop someone else from killing him?”

 “I…” She stuttered, nervously running a hand through her hair. “I don’t know how to… how to answer that…”

 “You already know the answer to that one, too.” Istrys’ words cut through Tyrasam like a blade. “You seem sweet… but you’re too gullible for your own good. I never got to know you well enough to say you deserve a good man in your life, but everyone deserves better than him.” The Paladin struggled to keep her composure as her tears began rolling down her cheeks. Despite months of supposed healing, against day after day of trying to put him behind her, he still had a firm grip on her body and soul. He would visit in her dreams, wheezing and scowling like he once did; and every time she would wake up in cold sweat. The woman was harsh, but her words rang true. Tyrasam let her husband do some twisted things; it was time to set things right.

 “I’m going to have a little chat with High Justicar Arveld.” She sighed while she rubbed her face dry from her tears, causing the Necromancer to slowly lean forward again.

 “What for? Trying to get my execution over sooner than later?”

 “You’ll have to wait and see.” The Paladin reluctantly released the bars and turned her back to the Necromancer. “I wouldn't give up just yet if I were you.”

  Istrys was carried by her two guards, too weak to even lift her feet to stop them from dragging along the floor. She could barely keep her eyes open by this point, struggling to lift her head up while they set her in her podium. Rethandus watched her in a scornful silence as he wondered how he would rescue her from this nightmare in one piece.

 “Thank you all for your patience and understanding.” High Justicar Arveld started while he stared down at the Necromancer. “As you are all aware, the Undead are a blight to this world, an unholy creation with the sole purpose of destroying and converting all life. They are a pestilence, who walk a very thin line of tolerance and usefulness. That is why we must punish any creature who strays from the path.”

 Whitstan grit his teeth as he listen to the pompous and self-righteous preaching condemning his own kind.

 “This isn't right.” Rethandus thought to himself. “They are going to butcher her and there isn't a damned thing I can do about it!”

 “Esmeralda Autumnstone. I find you guilty of conspiring against High Justicar Sun’rael with Councilor Kash’kaar, and the attempted coup that ended the lives of over a hundred in our order. I find you guilty of invoking madness in Councilor Kash’kaar with fel poison, and subsequently his murder after his attempt on High Justicar Sun’rael’s life. I find you guilty for the destruction of Zaldrannar: the Black Judge, and the terrible danger you put all of the citizens of Quel’Thalas and the rest of the Eastern Kingdoms. There can be no greater treachery than your heinous crimes… and for that, your punishment is death!”

“This is outrageous!” Rethandus blurted out, catching the attention of the nearby guards. “Whitstan already admitted to killing Zerethel yet you found her guilty anyway?!”

 “Another word and you will be joining her!”

 Whitstan himself instinctively reached to grab at his blade to no avail, he was disarmed in this enclave of the Light. He breathed out a deep sigh as he contemplated his options. He wasn’t about to give his life for Istrys but this disregard for justice made what left of his blood boil.

 “This is not justice! This is not how you Paladins are supposed to conduct yourselves!” Rethandus no longer cared about the High Justicar’s threats, raising one of his boots to slam on the back of the bench before him. “The Light is supposed to help people! The Light is supposed to-!”

 “Enough, Rethandus.” Tyrasam called out, catching him mid-sentence. “She’s not going to be executed today.”

 “Hmph…” High Justicar Arveld stroked his long wiry beard for several long moments, apparently conflicted with his own thoughts. “Lady Ku’sol is right. Ms. Autumnstone is sentenced to die, but not today.”

 “What?! But her verdict is guilty!” The Draenei woman screeched, rising up from her seat; what appeared to be what was left of her family rose along with her. “She needs to die for what she did!”

 “Indeed she does.” The old man slouched in his chair while he pinched the bridge of his nose. “But a High Justicar’s word is his very oath. High Justicar Sun’rael pardoned her of her crimes, and as long as his breath remains his bond, she… cannot be executed.” The crowd quickly became unhinged at his unorthodox announcement, causing many guards to move in to stop them from killing Istrys herself. Rethandus stared wide-eyed at Tyrasam, who noticed his glance, but didn’t acknowledge it. Eventually High Justicar raised his hand, no longer even holding his gavel. “But know this: if Alucieus Sun’rael dies, whether it be on that death bed in Dalaran or surrounded by enemies in a future battlefield, his word will no longer protect you.” He waved his hand dismissively while he turned away, clearly too exhausted from all of this madness today. “Reclaim your criminal and get out of my sight.”

 Rethandus didn’t waste any time getting to her the moment the guards lowered their weapons to let him pass. The Harbinger ripped through the chains keeping her locked in the podium with relative ease. Istrys said nothing while she was quickly turned around and heaved over one of his shoulders. “We’re getting out of here before he changes his mind.” Rethandus whispered to her, unsure if she could even hear him. The woman said nothing while her arms and legs swayed limp and freely while he hurried to free her of this terrible place, and her unresponsive silence only hastened his steps.

 Whitstan glanced at the two, still remaining vigilant at Kaevia’s side. “Good for them.” he commented, his eyes wandering to the bloodthirsty mob, wondering how many of them simply wished to see his kind burn for countless other reasons or buried feelings. He couldn’t help but shift his gaze to see how far along they had gotten. He spoke out to the Priestess, “Justice wasn’t done here today however you cut it. We’ll see it met and done when it all settles.”

 Rethandus continued to walk until he could no longer feel the Holy Light seeping out of the ground beneath his feet. Gently he set her down against a nearby tree, fearing the worst. “Istrys…? Open your eyes… Istrys?!” The Harbinger reached down to rudely smack her face, desperate for a response. “Don’t you die on me! Istrys!”

 “Uuugh…” She weakly mumbled, sheepishly pushing his hand away. “What… happened? Everything went black for a really… l-long time…” The Necromancer hesitated to open her eyes, glancing around to find herself in the now lush forest of the once infamous Plaguelands.

 “High Justicar Arveld sentenced you to death. But he will only carry out your sentence should Alucieus die prematurely.” Rethandus sounded relieved, clearly not caring about the potential grass stain he was begging for on his right pant knee.

 “How long has he been in his coma again…? Three… four months…?”

 “Seven.” Rethandus answered, clenching his jaw.

 “Fuck… then I’ve got some preparations to take care of before they find me aga-” Istrys’ sentence was cut short the moment they both heard footsteps, causing Rethandus to rise to his feet and face whoever approached them.

 “Tyrasam…?” The Harbinger called out, catching her attention. “Did you know this would happen? That Arveld would let her go on a technicality?”

 “High Justicar Arveld, and yes.” The Paladin softly answered, peering down at the nearly-paralyzed Necromancer. “Like I said to you before, Istrys: I wouldn't give up so easily if I were you.”

 “There's something I need to tell you Tyrasam.” Rethandus reluctantly spoke while he approached her. “It's about the details of that so-called trial.”

 “You don't have to tell me.” She insisted, taking a small step back. “You have your secrets and I have mine.”

 “I'm responsible for your husband killing the rest of his family.” His deep voice pierced her like a spear, causing her to freeze in place. “I caught wind of what Zerethel was planning for Zaldrannar, but I couldn’t approach anyone who could stop him without any solid proof. I discovered a bounty on his head, and yours, and forged it to make him believe his father created it himself. My hope was for him to confront the family he left behind and die by their hands. I underestimated his resolve.”

“Why are you telling me this…!?” Tyrasam squeaked, causing the Harbinger to pause. “How could you do this?!”

 “He was going to slaughter every living being aboard that black citadel, Tyrasam. If you knew the things he did in the Bloodsworn Vanguard… the things I helped him do… you would understand.” Rethandus watched the trembling woman carefully, but he knew he couldn’t simply leave it at that. “When I heard Aethos was dead, I rushed to his estate as fast as I could. There I found a pile of charred corpses- your sister-in-law and nephew. I held their broken bodies in my arms, and all I could imagine was Jaeras and you sharing a similar fate. I couldn’t let their deaths be in vain, and I certainly couldn’t let Zerethel harm you two. So during his rampage to finish the rest of his extended family off, I placed a fel rune in his office in hopes of it killing him in his sleep. Once again, I underestimated his fading strength…”

 “That sickness was your doing…?!” Tyrasam cried out, forsaking her composure. “When I turned to you for help, you knew exactly what was happening to him?!”

 “Yes.” Rethandus answered coldly, causing her to stumble backwards a bit. “My plan was to get you and Jaeras to safety before he finally snapped, but… you insisted on staying by his side.” Rethandus reluctantly broke his stare with the woman, glancing down to stare at his pale frozen hand. “I’m sorry it had to be this way, Tyrasam, and I wish I told you this sooner… but I did what I did because your husband was going to cross a line that could have ended your life. Hate me if you want… but I don’t regret Zerethel’s downfall.”

 “I… I don’t…” The Paladin stuttered, grasping at her hands.

 “You don’t have to say anything.” Rethandus took one last step forward before bowing. “Try to get some rest tonight. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through this year.” Tyrasam said nothing while she watched him turn his back on her and pluck Istrys out of the grass. For the longest time her words were resting on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t summon the strength to speak them. Eventually she collapsed to her hands and knees once they were out of sight, forced to reopen formally closed wounds once again.

 “You really think that was a good idea?” Istrys whispered in his ear, able to speak clearly now that the Holy Light’s influence was gone, but otherwise still too exhausted to walk herself. “That might come back to bite you in the ass.”

 “Honesty was a virtue I once held to a higher standard.” Rethandus huffed, keeping his gaze on the path ahead. “If she tells Kaevia, I’ll explain myself. If Alucieus learns of this, I might be in more than a little trouble. But…” the Harbinger paused while he was temporarily lost in thought. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

 “You better be more careful, Andy.” The Necromancer warned. “You keep up with this honesty bullshit and you'll end up with more enemies than you can handle.”

 “We’re undead,” Rethandus sighed, taking notice of a wounded doe and her two fawns. The mother was stuck in a bear trap, and her children were seemingly too terrified to leave her side; the perfect opportunity to get Istrys back on her feet. “Disappointing the living and in turn making them hate us is all par for the course.”

Collabudddies: @Istrys @k-sunrael @whitstanwilhelm