Alsonys sat at her campaign desk, taking notes. Her fine artificial arms of Draeneic artifice went through the motions smoothly, almost as good as her long lost natural arms. Yet another day at the Telogrud Rift, assisting Ambrose with the more mundane side of research. She knew what she was signing up for when Ambrose Blacksun, a Sin’dorei fringe acedemic, first contacted her. They had been colleagues for several decades, collaborating on many works of ritual and artifice. She had assumed their cordial relationship would continue, even without her ability to channel the arcane. She was wrong.
“Are you paying attention, you dumb half-breed?” Ambrose said sharply. “Was your ability to think removed along with your ability to cast magic?” Alsonys jerked from her thoughts and began to take dictation again. She knew she shouldn’t let the stray thoughts in. They led to pain if she didn’t concentrate. At least here she could lose herself and forget.
Forget the past.
Forget the pain.
Too late she realized that she had stopped once more, and barely had time to deflect the incoming staff strike. Ambrose wouldn’t like being thwarted so easily, but the years spent in training and meditation atop the Peak of Serenity do not easily fade. To avoid further reprisal, she allowed the second hit. The crack across her temple sent her and her desk sprawling. She felt the warm blood mix with cool ink from the spilled inkwell on her face. She took a moment to gather her wits before righting herself and her desk.
“I’m sorry, Ambrose. I’ll get these copied and presentable, I promise.” She said quickly as she applied a handkerchief to her bleeding scalp. Ambrose scoffed. “Be sure that you do. I need a break from your idiocy. Clean this up quickly. I have much work to do tonight.” The Sin’dorei man turned on his heel to leave, when with a shout and what seemed like a thousand whispers at once, all went black.
Alsonys finds herself floating in pure darkness. The whispers are quiet here, but they are everywhere and they seem more a physical thing. There is no time here. No scents or sounds. There is no warmth or cold. There is nothing. There is only Void.
This voice was no whisper. It boomed in her head like a cannon.
I… I what? She thought. Speech was impossible, for she had no mouth, indeed no body to speak of.
You Hunger As We Do, Elf Child.
Who Are you?
We Are The Void. We Are Everything And Nothing. We Are All That Was, And All That Will Be Once More.
Alsonys had heard these words before, studying the Orcs of Shadowmoon Valley on Draenor, but she never in her wildest nightmares expected they could speak so loudly.
We See You Are No Stranger. We See You Wish To Be Whole.
Alsonys suddenly felt piercing cold, and began to shiver. She realized she could see herself, pale, naked and without her prosthetics floating in the vastness of the Void. With sudden agony, she watched as her arms began to reconstitute, system by system. Skeletal, vascular, muscular, nervous, one-by one. Finally, a layer of skin, black as night, covered it all, finishing the process. She flexed her fingers and felt a physical strength she hadn’t ever felt before. It was as if these arms undertook her monk training and were dutifully kept in shape over the past few years.
In an instant, another, deeper pain enveloped her. A torrent of black and violet energies surrounded Alsonys, infusing their essence deep into her. She felt the moment when the block on her Mana Pool broke, and access to the power she had known for centuries. When the energies dissipated, she was left with blue gray skin and dusky gray hair. She trembled in space as the voice spoke once more.
Good. You Are More Capable Of Serving The Void. Accept Us.
She struggles and thrashes in her suspension, the energies of the void still filling her. She feels the dark tendrils grow from her scalp and protrude from her hairline. Lastly, she felt the whispers closing in around her mind like a hand around a ball, but before the hand could shut tight, she was suddenly gasping for air inside her research tent.
From all over the Telogrus Rift, moans and screams could be heard. Alsonys stood, trembling and looking around, wide-eyed. Ambrose could be seen just outside, crying and shivering in a heap. She stumbled her way to him to roll him over and she gasped. “Ambrose?” His gaze locked onto Alsonys with wide eyes. “G-get off of me, you useless waste of space.”
Alsonys’ expression turns dark as they both stand. Ambrose shakily brushes off his robes and turns to face Alsonys just in time to realize she’d been Evocating, filling her mana pool to bursting. Void energies swirl about her as she grabs the man by the throat, her tendrils flailing. Her skin and hair seemed to swap into their complimentary colors, looking like a negative photograph.
“That is the last time...”
She drags the man through their secluded tent.
“...You will ever...”
With a wave of a hand, the rear panel of the tent parts cleanly, as if sliced with a razer.
She dangles his feet over the edge, his hands scrabbling at Alsony’s grip and his eyes bulging. Alsonys pulls him close, nose to nose. “In this life, or any other.” A ball of arcane energy coalesces into a violet short sword. She plunges it into his heart and releases his neck as the light leaves his eyes. Ambrose falls into the infinite nothingness of the Great Dark Beyond.
An hour post-transformation, Alsonys was found in her secluded, torn up tent. She was wrapped in a blanket and clutching her locket. She’s sat in a group of elves she hardly recognizes. Nobody was spared the touch of the Void, and most seemed to be as confused as she was. The ever present whispers dug at her mind like a scouring sandstorm, and she knew, unless she found purpose again, she would fully become the monster that killed Ambrose.