In his own apartment, overlooking the Silvermoon Bazaar, Qabian Amberlight, a Magister and now a Minion, pulled out the chair in front of his personal desk, haphazardly tossed a sheaf of blank papers onto the desk, then sat down. He didn't start writing immediately. He looked out the window to his left and paused a moment to watch various members of the Horde going about their business in the softening yellow light of the waning afternoon below. 'How the world has changed in a few short years. So much change is not... appealing,' he thought. "Peace by annihilation," he said aloud to the room as he uncorked his inkwell. He reached for his extravagant feather pen, dipped it, then began to write in his eminently sensible calligraphy.
Dearest Larinth,
There are still days when I desire nothing more than to join you, to scream and rage and give in to this burning need, this gift of the human traitor prince and the Kal'dorei before him. To lose my mind to the aching hunger some days seems like it would be a comfort. Yes, I feed now, but it is too late for you and so many others. It is only chance that saved me from your fate.
I always thought you were the strongest. Perhaps being in Dalaran at the time meant the destruction had less effect on me. It hurt. By the sun, the ache that grew in the days following -- but I was able to make it through. Perhaps it was worse for you in the city. I still believe you were the strongest. Perhaps your strength is why the madness took you.
Since the completion of my apprenticeship, I have focused on studying fire. Do you remember it was fire that brought me to you? Of course you don't. You can hardly remember your own name. After nearly half a century together, the flame and I are practically lovers now. I recently learned to push fire out from my very self to blast any around me. I will never be able to describe the joy that follows, especially when the result is pain and death for the miserable Alliance.
I cannot help but regret that I am the only one of us who still walks in Silvermoon today. We could have had such power together in the world as it is. The four of us, completing our training, would have been nigh unstoppable. And yet, I am alone.
Or I was.
Today, I have joined the Grim, as has been my plan for a few weeks now. I am a simple Minion, as is appropriate, but that is enough for the Alliance who have learned what I have done to already hate me even when I am alone and no great threat to them. This is an amusing effect. I cannot wait to see what they will think of me once I have made my way to Outlands and accessed the power I have heard can be found there. Of course, I never once hesitated to show them flames before my appeal to the Grim, whether they were strong enough to withstand my own power or otherwise.
We began with an attack on the Exodar. So few Alliance showed up to defend, but the aliens' own guards put up a strong fight. We had meant to bring about the destruction of the Naaru there, but when we confronted it, it was strangely untouchable. The disappointment broke the ranks and made it difficult then to maintain a cohesive charge for their leader. Velen, I believe they call him?
My own power was essentially useless against their guards. The experience certainly showed me just how much more I have to learn. However, walking with the Grim was awe inspiring. It confirmed for me that it is with them and in their company that I will be most useful, that I will be able to engage most wholly in the process of annihilation.
Their Mistress then met me in Razor Hill of all places. That seemed a strange choice, neither of us having any attachment to Durotar other than this allegiance with Thrall who is so concerned with honor that the Grim feel the need to stand and act as his weaponry. Overlooking Tiragarde, we spoke together. I admit the discussion was less uplifting than the combat it followed.
She raised many disturbing questions, not surprising in this time of conflict, but still questions I had not thought to think on before. However, I'm not sure the presence of the human fortress had quite the effect on me she was hoping. It reminded me that even when those weak-willed slugs make pretences at peace, it will always be nothing but lies. They will craft a treaty for you and then proceed to build defenses on your land and attack you in the barren place they laughingly saw fit to leave to you for your home.
And yet, in the presence of immediate evidence of their consistent treachery, she tells me there are those who believe it is the humans who were betrayed. Oh, really? If you had been there with me, Larinth, you would realize how wrong that is. Prince Kael needed to cure our people of exactly what ultimately destroyed you. His "betrayal" of them was one of necessity. Theirs was simple spite and malice. We fought the Scourge together with them and they turned on us, causing us to fight a losing battle on two fronts. What kind of ally does that? If they felt we acted wrongly, those are problems to be addressed after what needs to be done is done. Counteraction would have been understandable after the Scourge were finally put down. Necessity above emotion always, but what do those pathetic insects possibly know of necessity, or logic, or common sense? Well, malice is what they gave, and malice is what they will get in return, all of them, and their friends, and their children. Malice for what their actions and lack of actions have done to you, my friend. And as it is, the Scourge still poisons our world.
Most disturbing of all was when she informed me that the Grim are out to kill Kael'thas himself. That was a blow to my spirit, indeed. The fury Tiragarde was raising in me suddenly changed targets. I wanted to strike her tiny face, and those eyes that glowed with something worse than fel, but I exercised the control I have spent so many years training. The only thing that truly stopped me was the fact that she said I would understand when I reached Outland. There must be some reason for this that I simply cannot comprehend yet. The Grim mandate is peace through annihilation, peace for the Horde and the Horde's allies. I have heard it from many. How could Kael'thas possibly be an obstacle to that goal?
Prince Kael was never as vehemently against the Alliance as the Grim or even as myself. That's part of the reason I cannot forgive the humans. They turned on him despite his intentions. He must have done something terrible in Outland for the Grim -- His allegiance with the mutant Highborne must have turned -- This information has caused me much unrest. The Prince must have turned against the Horde itself or the Grim would not seek his death. That makes the actions of Lor'themar and Rommath very strange. Whatever Kael'thas has done, he must have done after sending Rommath back to us with his message of hope. I cannot understand. What has happened, Larinth? Does your lost mind have insight mine does not?
But I will be patient. I will wait to learn what the Mistress says lies in Outlands. I must. And if Kael'thas does return, perhaps then there will be no more need of the Grim.
She does not trust me, the Mistress of the Grim. I can only respect that. After what she has told me, I do not trust her, either. Not completely. Not yet. If she can provide the evidence, I will absolutely concede to her, even though it does seem strange to follow orders from a dead child. She said the Grim will ask me to do things others would find... I can't remember the word. Distasteful, I think. She underestimates me if she thinks I will avoid conflict. Granted, if she asks me to sit for a week in a pile of the gore the Undercity Apothecarium spews out, I will be exceedingly uncomfortable. But if it leads to the destruction of the Alliance, I will not flinch from whatever it takes. I won't turn on my allies because of suspicion. Necessity first, then confrontation.
I was glad to speak to the Mistress, though. Lady Sylvanas is not so far removed from the Sin'dorei even now. I consider her children quite close to us, especially as they share in her own strength, even if they are aesthetically vile. Earlier, I had been told I would meet with a Troll. I have... suspicions of Troll mages. Their lives, like the humans', are so short. How can they possibly learn adequate control of the arcane in such a small amount of time? And their reputation as crude barbarians has not grown out of fiction. We have fought them for millennia. However, I doubt there are many Amani in the Horde or the Grim, especially with the Sin'dorei's current allegiance. They would not survive long. I know little of these Darkspear, but I will watch and learn. For the present, I was certainly comforted to find myself speaking with a Forsaken instead.
My writing this to you is a sign of my own weakness, Larinth. I feel this need to tell you these things that you will never be able to understand again. This symbolic action is thoroughly futile and, I admit, unnecessary, but it comforts me to gather my thoughts like this, and to imagine that in some strange way I can present them to you, or at least to the great magus you should have been. My regret for your loss knows no bounds. In the end, I am capable of following the Grim despite their determination to defeat Kael'thas because of you. I left Kael'thas' company once before to attend to you, and now, it is for the revenge you so deserve that I am capable of working against him if necessary.
Al diel shala, my brother. Some day, in some way, we will meet again, and I will truly be able to discuss these things with you as in a dream of things long forgotten.
Anar'alah belore,
Qabian
The young Magister gathered up the pages he had filled with his script. He read over them repeatedly, trying to gather the turmoil of his thoughts. There were words here that could destroy him. Not many would be happy with all the things he said and implied. The strange need he had to write them down confused him. It was not sensible. It was not like him. But it seemed right, somehow.
Finally, he held the pages over a small ceramic container on his desk that was already half-filled with ash. Tiny controlled flames ran from his fingers where they contacted the pages, blackening the edges of the paper. When the flickers met opposite, a flash just exactly the shape of the pages consumed them and the resulting smoldering dust dropped efficiently into the container, leaving no mess.
Qabian picked up the container and took it with him out of the room, moving out into the city. The sun passed behind Silvermoon's walls. In the red evening light, Qabian walked from the city gates to Elrendar Falls where not long ago he had been asked by his Instructors to gather pure water for an enchantment. He unceremoniously dumped the container over the falls, pausing to watch the powder spread through the air and muddy the waters for a short moment.
"Tomorrow brings peace through annihilation," he quietly told the approaching night as he returned to his home.