She was about to curse at him even though her mouth was blocked, but before she could even think of the words, something strange happened.
A presence touched her mind.
Not like a voice or a thought, but more like... an offer?
Somehow Relara understood that she could accept or reject what was being presented to her. She also knew, without knowing how she knew, that the first three offers would be free.
What in Elune's name was happening to her?
[Unshakeable Nature – World of Warcraft]
No corrupting force shall taint your natural essence. Your deep bond with the natural world allows you to purify minor corruptions that attempt to take hold, such as shadow magic or fel energy, and to resist moderate corrupting influences through sheer force of will and your connection to life itself. Only the most potent corrupting forces, such as direct exposure to Old God whispers or the Burning Legion's most powerful agents, would be able to truly affect you, but even then your natural harmony allows you to slowly cleanse the corruption over time and maintain some measure of your true self throughout the ordeal.
Relara had no idea what was going on. Was she going crazy? The herbs her father had given her, maybe they were making her hallucinate?
But the offer felt more real than anything she'd experienced before…
And right now, surrounded by satyrs and fel corruption, she needed any help she could get.
Maybe this was Elune's way of helping her. The moon goddess worked in mysterious ways, after all. Her mother had always said that Elune watched over all night elves, especially in their darkest hours, and what could be darker than being carried off by satyrs while her own father turned into one of them?
I'll take anything that helps me resist their corruption, Relara thought desperately. If this is you, Elune, then yes. I accept.
The moment she mentally accepted, her amber eyes briefly glowed with a subtle white light. The corrupted forest around her suddenly felt more uncomfortable, but at the same time, it felt less threatening.
The wrongness couldn't actually touch her anymore.
"Thank you, Elune," Relara whispered.
Gorthak heard her mumble and let out a harsh laugh. "Your precious moon goddess can't help you here, little elf. This is our domain now. Elune's light fled these woods long ago."
Relara wanted to argue, to tell him that Elune had just blessed her with protection, but she kept her mouth shut. No point in giving the satyrs any more information than necessary. Let them think she was just another helpless night elf praying uselessly to her goddess.
The journey to Night Run took about twenty minutes, though it felt like hours to Relara. Being carried like this was humiliating enough, but having to endure Gorthak's occasional comments about the corruption that awaited her made it worse. She tried to memorize the path they took, counting turns and observing landmarks, but the corrupted forest all looked the same after a while.
Dead trees, blackened earth, and that ever-present stench of fel magic.
When they finally arrived at Night Run, Relara couldn't help but stare. She'd heard stories about satyr settlements, but seeing one in person was different.
The place was built around massive red marble pillars that jutted up from the ground like bloody fangs. The pillars were covered in demonic runes that hurt to look at directly, and green fel fire burned along the edges.
Satyrs were everywhere. A group near the center of the settlement caught her attention… several satyrs with swollen hooves were chanting in a language that made her ears ache.
As she watched, portals opened in front of them and felhounds jumped through.
They looked like massive dogs, if dogs had massive horns made out of bone and had tentacles growing from their backs. They had no eyes, but their mouths were full of sharp teeth.
If it weren't for the fact the Sentinels couldn't be everywhere at once, and the satyrs were good at hiding… this place would've been destroyed long ago!
Gorthak carried her deeper into the settlement, and Relara's distaste only grew. They passed corrupted moonwells that bubbled with green liquid instead of the pure water they should have contained. The sight made her want to cry.
Moonwells were sacred to her people, blessed by Elune herself.
Seeing them defiled like this was almost worse than watching her father transform.
Then she saw something that made her gasp out loud. Corrupted Ancients of War stood guard at various points throughout Night Run. The massive tree-creatures that should have been protectors of the forest had been darkened by fel magic until they were mockeries of their former selves. Their bark was black and oozing, their branches ended in sharp claws instead of leaves, and their eyes... their eyes burned with the same green fire as everything else here.
"Beautiful, aren't they?" Gorthak said, noticing her shock. "Your precious Ancients bow to our power now. Soon all of Ashenvale will look like this. Every tree, every creature, every stubborn night elf will either serve the Felmusk or burn."
"You're delusional," she managed to croak out. "The Sentinels will stop you. They always have."
Gorthak laughed again. "The Sentinels? Like your mother? Tell me, little elf, how well did that work out for her?"
Her mother had died fighting orcs, not satyrs, but the mockery still stung.
These demons probably celebrated every time a Sentinel fell…
They reached a corner of the settlement where a large chamber had been carved into the red marble. The bars looked like they were made from the same corrupted wood as the Ancients.
Gorthak stopped and took out a key.
"Your new home," he announced, pulling the door open. "Don't worry, you won't be lonely."
Inside the chamber, Relara saw another night elf woman sitting against the far wall. The satyr dumped her unceremoniously onto the stone floor, and she groaned as her weakened body hit the ground. The door slammed shut behind her.
"Enjoy getting to know each other," Gorthak sneered through the bars before he walked away.
Relara pushed herself up slowly, her muscles still refusing to work properly. The other night elf watched her struggle with sharp purple eyes. The woman looked to be older than Relara from her demeanor, with dark purple hair that had clearly been longer once but now hung in uneven chunks around her shoulders.
"First time in a satyr cell?" the woman asked. Her voice was hoarse but still had a defiant edge to it. "Don't worry, the stone floor gets more comfortable after a few days. Or maybe you just stop caring."
Relara managed to prop herself against the wall opposite the other night elf. "How long have you been here?"
"Three weeks. Maybe four. Hard to tell when they keep the fel fires burning all the time."
The woman shifted slightly and winced. "Name's Yyne Starweave. Sentinel scout. You?"
"Relara Whitemoon." She hesitated, then added, "My father just... he brought me here. He made a deal with them."
Yyne's eyebrows shot up. "Your own father? Let me guess, he lost someone important and couldn't handle it?
"My mother. She was killed by orcs eight months ago." Relara whispered. "He was so afraid of losing me too that he... he turned himself into one of them."
"Ishnu-dal-dieb," Yyne muttered, which roughly translated to 'good fortune to your troubles' - though the way she said it made it sound more like a curse. "I've heard of people falling to grief, but to hand his own daughter to satyrs? That takes a special kind of broken."
Relara felt her throat tighten. Hearing someone else say it out loud made it real in a way she wasn't ready for. Her father, the man who taught her to string her first bow, who sang her the old lullabies when she had nightmares... that man was gone.
Replaced by a monster with burning green eyes.
"What happened to the others in your patrol?" Relara asked, desperate to think about anything else.
Yyne's expression shifted to something Relara couldn't quite read. "They're being fed corrupting Warsong Oil by our hosts..." She trailed off, then shrugged. "They should be back soon enough."
"How bad is it?" Relara asked quietly.
"It's... not as terrible as you might think. The satyrs, they have their ways, but..." Yyne shifted against the wall, and Relara noticed her cheeks had taken on a slight flush. "You learn to enjoy the burn of the Oil..."
She cut herself off, shaking her head as if clearing it. "Forgive me. The fel energies in this place, they affect the mind after a while."
Was that what corruption looked like? Not some dramatic transformation like her father, but small changes? Little compromises? She thought about the protection she'd accepted earlier and felt grateful for it. At least she had some defense against whatever was affecting Yyne.
"Have you tried to escape?" Relara asked.
Yyne laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Of course we've tried. First night, Elenma picked the lock with a hairpin she'd hidden. We made it about twenty yards before the felhounds caught our scent."
She unconsciously rubbed her left arm, where Relara could see faint scars through the tears in her armor. "Those beasts can track anything. Their masters just laughed and dragged us back."
"What about during the day?"
"The corrupted wisps," Yyne said simply. "You probably didn't notice them on the way in, but they're everywhere. Floating around like little spies, reporting everything they see. Even if we could get past them, there are always at least a dozen satyrs awake at any time. They don't all sleep at once."
Relara frowned. Wisps were supposed to be pure spirits of the forest, night elven ancestors.
The idea that satyrs had corrupted them too made her angry.
Was nothing sacred to these demons?
"So we're stuck here," Relara said flatly.
"For now." Yyne stretched her legs out in front of her. "Though I suppose you have it worse than us. At least we were captured in battle. Your own father..."
"I don't want to talk about him." The words came out sharper than Relara intended.
Yyne held up her hands. "Of course. Elune knows we all have our burdens to bear in this place."
They sat in silence for a while. Relara could hear the crackle of fel fire and chanting from elsewhere in the settlement, but she tried not to think about what the chanting might be for.
"Tell me about your patrol," Relara said eventually. "How many of you were there?"
"Four total. Myself, Elenma Swiftblade, Ellada Moonwhisper, and our leader, Sentinel Captain Virela Nightbreeze." Yyne's voice softened when she mentioned the captain. "Virela's been trying to keep our spirits up, but even she's starting to..."
She trailed off again, that same uncomfortable look crossing her face.
"Starting to what?" Relara pressed.
"Nothing. The corruption plays tricks on the mind, that's all. How old are you, anyway?" Yyne asked suddenly. "You seem young."
"Two hundred and fifty," Relara answered.
Yyne whistled low. "Barely more than a child. No wonder your father was so protective." She paused. "…too protective, as it turned out."
Relara bristled at being called a child. Sure, many night elves had lived for thousands of years, but she'd been training with weapons for over two centuries! She had reached maturity over two hundred years ago and thirty years ago, so why couldn't they understand…
"I'm not a child," Relara argued. "I was going to join the Sentinels. I was ready."
"Were you?" Yyne's tone wasn't mocking, just curious. "Tell me, young Whitemoon, have you ever killed anyone? Not animals, not target practice. A thinking, speaking person who was trying to kill you back?"
Relara opened her mouth, then closed it.
The answer was no, obviously.
The closest she'd come to real combat was sparring with other trainees.
"That's what I thought," Yyne continued. "The Sentinels would have trained that hesitation out of you eventually. But your father... he saw his little girl playing at war and panicked."
"I wasn't playing!" Relara snapped. "I wanted to avenge my mother. I wanted to make the orcs pay for what they did to her!"
"And now instead of fighting orcs, you're locked in a satyr cell." Yyne shook her head. "The world has a cruel sense of humor sometimes."
Before Relara could respond, she heard footsteps approaching. Multiple sets, from the sound of it. The heavy clop of satyr hooves and lighter steps that could only be night elves.
The cell door swung open, and three night elf women stumbled inside. Two satyrs shoved them forward before slamming the door shut again.
"Until tomorrow, ladies," one of the satyrs called out. "Rest well."
Relara stared at the new arrivals. Something was very wrong with them.
The first woman, who had silver hair braided in the traditional Sentinel style, was giggling. Actually giggling, like she'd just heard the funniest joke in the world.
She swayed on her feet, catching herself against the wall.
"Oh! Yyne!" she exclaimed cheerfully. "You missed such fun! Gorthak told the most amusing story about a treant who thought he was a bush!"
The second woman, with dark blue hair, collapsed onto the floor in a heap. She was grinning from ear to ear. "The wisps were dancing," she announced to no one in particular. "Pretty green lights, spinning and spinning..."
The third woman, who Relara guessed must be Captain Virela from her armor, at least tried to maintain some dignity, even as she had a strange, dreamy expression on her face.
"Sentinels," Virela said slowly, as if remembering the word. "Report to... report..." She frowned, then shrugged and sat down heavily. "Never mind. Too tired."
Relara looked at Yyne, who had her face in her hands.
"This is what I was trying to tell you," Yyne muttered. "It's temporary. The corruption, it... does things. Makes them act like this for a few hours after exposure."
"Exposure to what exactly?" Relara demanded.
The silver-haired Sentinel heard the question and laughed. "Oh, you're new! How delightful! Don't worry, little sister. The masters are very gentle. Well, mostly gentle. Sometimes they're-"
"Elenma," Yyne cut her off sharply. "That's enough."
But Elenma just kept talking. "The fel energy tickles at first. Like little sparks under your skin..."
The blue-haired Sentinel, Ellada, rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. "The stars are wrong here," she said dreamily. "But the fel lights are pretty too. Green stars. Green moon. Green everything."
"It wears off," Yyne said quietly to Relara. "In a few hours, they'll be back to normal. Mostly normal. Each time it takes a little longer to come back completely."
Relara watched Captain Virela try to unbuckle her armor and fail because she kept forgetting what she was doing halfway through. This was a Sentinel Captain. Someone who had probably served for centuries and made life and death decisions. Now she couldn't even remember how her own armor worked.
No. This would not be her fate.
She closed her eyes and tried to focus. That strange presence from earlier, the one that had given her protection from corruption… maybe it would help again? She reached out with her mind, searching for that feeling.
Nothing happened.
Of course not. Whatever that was, it had said the first three would be free. She'd used one. That meant she had two more, but she had no idea when they would come or what they would offer.
Fine. She'd have to rely on herself then.
"How long exactly before they're clear-headed?" Relara asked Yyne.
"Four hours, maybe five. Depends on how much exposure they had." Yyne was watching her fellow Sentinels with a pained expression. "The first time is always the worst. Or best, depending on how you look at it."
"How can there be a 'best' way to look at this?" Relara gestured at the giggling Sentinels.
Yyne's smile was bitter. "Because when they're like this, they don't remember what's really happening. For a few hours, they're... happy."
Elenma had started braiding Ellada's hair, humming an old lullaby that Relara recognized. Her mother used to sing it. The melody was right, but hearing it here, in this place, made it sound odd.
"We have to escape," Relara said firmly. "There has to be a way."
"You think we haven't tried everything?" Yyne's voice was tired. "The locks are enchanted. The walls are solid stone. The corrupted wisps watch everything. The felhounds can track our scent for miles. And even if we somehow got out of Night Run, we're deep in corrupted territory. We'd have to make it through miles of tainted forest with satyrs hunting us."
"So what, we just give up?" Relara couldn't accept that. "We let them turn us into... into whatever this is?"
She gestured at Captain Virela, who was now lying on her back, staring at her own hand like she'd never seen it before.
"Pretty fingers," the Captain whispered. "Purple fingers. Purple is nice."
Yyne shook her head. "Give up? No. We survive. We wait for an opportunity." She paused. "And we try very hard not to lose ourselves completely in the process."
"Tell me about the settlement," Relara said. "Everything you've observed."
Yyne raised an eyebrow. "Planning already? You really are young." But she started talking anyway. "Night Run is built in a rough circle around those red pillars. There are hundreds of Satyr, though they're not all here at once. Some are out on raids or corrupting missions."
"What about the corrupted Ancients?" Relara asked. "How many?"
"Six that I've seen. They don't move much, just stand guard. But when they do move..." Yyne shuddered. "They're faster than they look."
Ellada suddenly sat up. "Oh! Oh! I forgot to tell you!" She crawled over to Yyne on her hands and knees. "Lorax said we're getting new clothes tomorrow! Pretty clothes! Green clothes!"
"That's nice, Ellada," Yyne said gently, like talking to a child.
"Green is the best color," Ellada continued seriously. "It matches the fire. Everything should be green."
Relara watched this Sentinel, this warrior, babble about colors and bit her lips hard enough to draw blood. She would not become this. She would not let the fel corruption turn her into some giggling fool who thought her captors were wonderful.
She would escape. Or die trying.
Because death had to be better than this.