Relara lay on the cold stone ground of Night Run's central plaza, staring up at the corrupted trees.
A week. It had been a whole week since her father brought her to this nightmare.
The satyr, a younger one with dark fur, took a strong grip on her white hair.
He tilted her head back and poured more of the Warsong Oil into her mouth. Relara wanted to spit it out, but she'd learned that only made things worse. The Oil burned going down, and she could feel it trying to work its corruption on her. But just like every other time, something inside her pushed back against it.
Thank Elune for the blessing.
Without it, I'd probably be giggling and praising the satyrs like the others.
"Enough, Blackhoof," a deep voice commanded.
Relara turned her head slightly to see a satyr she hadn't encountered before. This one was different from the others. Taller, with teal-colored skin instead of the usual purple or red. His fur was a dirty blonde color, and fel runes were tattooed across his chest and arms. Gold rings decorated his curved horns.
Walking beside him was her father.
Pelturas looked more satyr than ever now. Small spikes of bone had started growing along his shoulders, and his claws had lengthened.
"Xavathras," Blackhoof said, backing away quickly. "I didn't know you were coming today."
The way the other satyrs immediately showed respect told her he wasn't from the Felmusk clan.
A visitor then? But from where?
"The Jadefire do not announce our movements," Xavathras said coolly. His burning green eyes fixed on Relara. "So this is the one with the strong resistance."
Relara had heard that name before. They were one of the satyr clans from Felwood, far to the north. What was one of them doing all the way down here in Ashenvale?
Nothing good, she was sure.
"Seven days of Warsong Oil, and look at her," Pelturas said, gesturing at his daughter. "I knew my daughter had a strong will."
"Excellent," Xavathras smirked. "The Cult of the Dark Strand will be pleased. The stronger the will, the more powerful the result when it finally breaks."
Relara grimaced and tried to push herself up, but her arms gave out immediately.
"Bring her to the ritual stone," Xavathras commanded. "And remove those rags. The markings must be applied to bare skin."
Two Felmusk satyrs grabbed her arms and dragged her toward a flat stone slab near one of the red pillars. Relara tried to struggle, but her body wouldn't cooperate. They tore away her clothing, leaving her exposed to the corrupted air of Night Run.
The humiliation burned almost as much as the Oil.
"Face down," Xavathras ordered.
They flipped her onto her stomach, and the cold stone pressed against her bare skin. Relara turned her head to the side, glaring at anyone who met her eyes. Most of the satyrs were watching like this was some kind of entertainment.
"You fel-spawned pieces of orc dung!" Relara snarled. "When the Sentinels find this place, they'll kill every last one of you and-"
A satyr with gray fur shoved a wad of cloth into her mouth, cutting off her tirade.
"Much better," the satyr chuckled. "Pretty night elves should be seen, not heard."
Relara narrowed her eyes at him, trying to convey with just a look exactly what she'd do to him if she could move.
The satyr just laughed harder.
"Such fire in those amber eyes," Xavathras said, kneeling beside the stone slab. "Good. The ritual works best on those with strong spirits."
He fetched a set of needles that glowed with fel energy.
"The tattoo must follow along the path most suitable for her final transformation," Xavathras explained, more to the watching satyrs than to her. "Too shallow and they won't take. Too deep and the subject dies."
He smiled coldly. "I've had much practice..."
The first needle touched her lower back, and Relara bit down hard on the gag. It wasn't just pain, though there was plenty of that. It felt like the needle was trying to write something directly onto her soul. The fel energy burned through her skin and into her very being.
But just like with the Oil, the corruption tried to take hold and slid off that inner protection. It still hurt like nothing she'd ever experienced, but at least her spirit remained untouched.
Small blessings…
While Xavathras worked on her lower back, Relara tried to distract herself by looking around. The plaza was more crowded than usual today. Word must have spread about the Jadefire visitor and his special ritual. Satyrs of all sizes watched, some were even placing bets on how long she'd last before breaking.
Then she spotted them. The Sentinel scouts.
By Elune, what had happened to them?
Captain Virela was dancing. Actually dancing, swaying her hips to music only she could hear while several satyrs watched appreciatively. Her purple hair was wild around her shoulders. She was singing something in Darnassian, but the words were slurred from too much Oil.
Elenma sat on a large satyr's lap, giggling at something he whispered in her ear. Her silver hair had green streaks in it now… fel green, not just any kind of natural hair colour. She played with the satyr's horn rings like they were the most interesting things in the world.
Ellada was sprawled on the ground, her head in another satyr's lap while he fed her more Oil from a crystal vial. She drank it eagerly, like it was the finest wine.
And Yyne...
Yyne was flirting with a satyr.
When she met Relara's shocked eyes across the plaza, for just a moment, Relara saw something that might have been shame flash across her face.
Then the satyr pulled her back, and she melted against him.
A week ago, these were proud Sentinel warriors. Now they were... this.
The needles moved away from her lower back to the sides of her hips, making her bite down hard on the rag from the agony coursing through her body. He hummed while he worked.
"Turn her over," Xavathras said eventually.
They flipped her onto her back. The stone was wet with her own blood now, sticky against her skin.
"The foundation is set. Now for the binding runes."
He started at her lower stomach, right above her pelvis. Every line seemed designed to emphasize certain parts of her body, creating a tattoo that was disturbingly... aesthetic.
If she didn't know what they were for, she might even think they were beautiful.
The needles moved up her stomach to her chest. She could feel the tattoo trying to link together, trying to create the beginning of whatever magical framework would transform her.
Into what? She had no idea.
Relara could only assume some kind of special demon if it warranted all of this effort.
It must be driving Xavathras crazy that her inner protection prevented the tattoo from truly affecting her spirit, though he hid it well.
She turned her head and found herself looking directly at her father.
Their eyes met.
Father and daughter stared at each other across the plaza. Relara searched his face for any sign of the man who had raised her, who had taught her to shoot a bow and told her bedtime stories. But all she saw was a satyr with burning green eyes who seemed utterly convinced that this torture was for her own good.
He probably thought he was protecting her. In his mind, turning her into a demon was better than letting her die like her mother. He'd rather see her corrupted and alive than pure and dead.
What a monster he'd become.
Relara closed her eyes, unable to look at him anymore. The betrayal hurt worse than any needle.
That's when she felt that strange presence touching her mind again.
[Follow the Wisps - Brave]
When you are in need, you will encounter Will O' the Wisps, small blue flames that float in the air.
These wisps are intangible, and cannot be interacted with. When you approach one, it will vanish, and others will appear, forming a pathway.
Where the Will O' the Wisps lead you will depend on your needs. If you were lost in the woods, they can lead you back to civilisation. If you were racing to reach a destination in time, they could show you the quickest route there. If you were stuck in a situation you were desperate to escape from, they could take you to someone capable of helping you out. You do not need to know where they are leading you, or who they are leading you to, for them to provide you with a path. With their aid, even overcoming a bad fate is possible.
You can toggle this on or off as you like, in case you ever wanted a break from these little guys.
The wisps were the spirits of night elven ancestors, everyone knew that. They floated through the forests, guiding lost travelers and watching over their descendants. Her mother had told her stories about wisps leading wounded Sentinels back to safety, or warning villages of approaching danger.
But why were they called 'small blue flames' in this blessing?
Wisps usually looked more like balls of light, not flames. Maybe it was just a different way of describing them? Or maybe these were special wisps, blessed by Elune herself to help those in desperate need?
Either way, this was exactly what she needed. The blessing didn't promise she'd escape for certain, but even just knowing which direction to run, or where to find someone who could help... that was more than she had right now.
If she could see a path, any path, that led away from this nightmare, she'd take it.
Thank you, Elune. Thank you for not abandoning me in this dark place.
Relara accepted the blessing, and beneath her closed eyelids, her eyes briefly glowed white. The wisps would come when she needed them. She just had to survive long enough to use them.
Xavathras had moved to her legs now, creating lines that wound around her thighs like delicate vines. "It's done."
He stood up, wiping blood from his hands with a cloth. "The full transformation will take two weeks."
That was more time than she'd expected.
Two weeks to find a way out, before they turned her into whatever demon they had planned…
"The Warsong Oil must be administered regularly," Xavathras continued, addressing the gathered satyrs. "Every four hours, without fail. Miss a dose and the tattoos won't properly bind."
Chief Lorax nodded. "It will be done."
..
One week later.
Relara sat in the corner of the holding chamber, her amber eyes cold as winter frost. Anyone who met her gaze would see nothing but pure hatred burning there. Two weeks in this nightmare, and somehow she was still herself.
Mostly herself.
The stone floor was just as uncomfortable as the first night, but she'd gotten used to it.
What she hadn't gotten used to was watching her fellow captives deteriorate day by day.
"Relara!" Elenma's cheerful voice made her flinch. "You're brooding again!"
The silver-haired Sentinel stumbled over, and Relara noticed the small horns poking through her hair. They were maybe an inch long, curved slightly backward like a young satyr's.
All of the corrupted Sentinels had grown them over the past week.
Relara's hand went unconsciously to her own forehead. Still smooth…
"I'm not brooding," Relara said flatly. "I'm thinking."
"Thinking is just brooding with extra steps," Ellada giggled, dropping down beside her. The dark-haired Sentinel's horns were slightly longer than Elenma's, and her eyes had taken on a faint green tinge. "You should stop thinking so much. It's much more fun when you don't."
Captain Virela approached from the other side, swaying her hips in a way that would have been scandalous two weeks ago. "Our little sister is still being stubborn. So serious all the time!" She reached out to ruffle Relara's white hair, but Relara jerked away.
"Don't touch me," Relara hissed.
The three corrupted Sentinels pouted in unison, which would have been funny if it wasn't so disturbing.
"She's always like this," Elenma complained to the others, as if Relara wasn't sitting right there. "Won't drink the Oil willingly, won't even let us braid her hair anymore!"
"Remember last night?" Ellada asked with a dreamy smile. "Even Relara seemed to enjoy herself by the end."
Relara's jaw clenched so hard her teeth hurt. She hadn't enjoyed anything. No, she wasn't going to even think about it. Thinking about it made the tattoos on her skin tingle, and that annoyed her more than the memories themselves.
"Oh yes!" Virela clapped her hands. "The way you-"
"Stop," Relara growled.
"But it's true!" Elenma protested. "You made such pretty sounds..."
That did it.
Relara lunged forward, but Yyne caught her arm before she could grab Elenma by the throat.
"Easy," Yyne whispered. Unlike the others, her voice was clear. It had been hours since her last dose of Oil, and she was lucid again. For now. "They don't know what they're saying."
"They know exactly what they're saying," Relara snarled, but she let Yyne pull her back.
The three corrupted Sentinels looked hurt by her reaction.
"We're just trying to help," Virela sulked. "It's so much easier when you stop fighting the Oil."
"They're demons," Relara said slowly, as if explaining to children. "They killed countless night elves. They corrupt everything they touch. How can you not see that?"
Ellada tilted her head. "But they make us feel so good. How can that be evil?"
There was no point arguing with them when they were like this. The Oil had rotted their brains along with their bodies.
Relara turned away, staring silently at the far wall.
"Come on, sisters," Elenma said to the others. "Let's leave the grumpy one alone. Maybe she'll be more fun after tonight's party."
The three of them wandered to the other side of the cell, whispering and giggling among themselves. Relara waited until she was sure they were distracted before scooting closer to Yyne.
"How much longer can you hold out?" Relara whispered, keeping her voice so low even elven ears would struggle to hear.
Yyne's purple eyes were dark. "I don't know. Each time I come back to myself, it takes longer. And when I'm under..." She shuddered. "I can remember everything I do, but it feels like watching someone else control my body. Someone who thinks the satyrs are wonderful."
"The horns," Relara whispered. "When did they start growing?"
"Five days ago for Virela. She's had the most exposure. Elenma and Ellada started showing them three days ago." Yyne touched her own forehead. "I can feel bumps starting. Another week, maybe less, and I'll have them too."
Relara wanted to tell her about the wisps. About how she could see little blue flames floating through Night Run that nobody else seemed to notice. About how they formed a path that led out of the settlement, but also how that path would get her caught immediately.
Following the wisps straight out would be suicide because of all the guards.
But there was another path. One that led deeper into Night Run, to somewhere she couldn't identify. Why would Elune's blessing lead her further into danger? It made no sense, but she was running out of options.
The tattoos were starting to hook into her spirit, even if her protection ensured it didn't go any deeper than that.
Sadly, she couldn't tell Yyne any of this.
When the Oil took hold again, and it would, Yyne would tell the satyrs everything. They all did, eventually. Secrets spilled out like water from a corrupted moonwell when the Oil was in control.
"What are they trying to turn you into?" Yyne whispered. "The tattoos are different from normal corruption."
Relara hesitated. This wasn't really a secret… the satyrs talked about it openly. "Some kind of life-draining demon. For fighting other night elves." The words tasted bitter. "My father apparently prepared my body for it while I was in a coma for eight months. Fed me special herbs and stones."
Yyne's eyes widened. "He went that far…?"
"He thinks he's protecting me," Relara said coldly.
Over the past week, Relara had discovered things about the tattoos that scared her. When the satyrs forced her to drink blood, the tattoos would glow faintly.
She had experimented when the guards weren't watching. By concentrating, she could push the stored life energy out of the tattoos and into other things. She'd tried it on a stick first, making it glow with a green light. When she touched that stick to a patch of grass, the grass withered and died instantly.
And she'd felt something in return. A rush of vitality that closed a small cut on her hand before her eyes.
Life-draining.
That's what they were turning her into. A demon that could steal the life force from others to heal herself. Relara suspected that the final transformation would let her drain the life out of nature itself without even doing anything…
She'd be a walking violation of everything her people stood for if that happened.
That wasn't even everything, because when she drained that grass, just for a moment, she'd wanted to drain more.
To find something bigger, something that would scream as she took its life.
The feeling had passed quickly, but it left its mark on her.
Relara let out a deep sigh.
Two weeks, the Jadefire satyr had said. Two weeks for the full transformation. She was halfway there. Seven more days and whatever they planned to turn her into would be complete.
Unless she escaped first.
Relara couldn't wait much longer, nor was she willing to put all of her trust in her Unshakeable Nature blessing. During the daily 'party', the satyrs would be distracted, drunk on their own cruelty. The corrupted Sentinels would be just as useless, too busy dancing for their masters.
Yyne would be dosed with Oil again and wouldn't be able to stop her.
She'd distract whatever Satyr was bothering her, follow the wisps deeper into Night Run and pray to Elune that they were leading her to salvation and not just a different kind of doom.