70 | THE FORTRESS

5K 461 34
                                    

Idira emerged from the portal inside a tower, its walls and floor constructed of massive, ancient ashlars. A tingling coursed through her as the tower's magical energy seeped into her, invigorating her, making her feel more alive than she had ever felt before. Ornate wooden bookshelves lined the tower's outer wall, following its gentle curve. Between the wall and the tower's centre, freestanding bookshelves angled inwards.

She looked up. Five floors arced above her, their walkways following the curve of the tower, the walls covered in stacks crammed with thick tomes. Little bursts of arcane energy sizzled and crackled in the air, appearing and disappearing like bubbles in a pot of boiling water. She looked around open-mouthed, wondering just where she was. It certainly didn't feel like Dalaran. There was no sense of politics here, or hierarchy—only magic, pure, clean unadulterated magic. She wanted to sink down onto her knees, press her hands against the floor and just drink in its power, suddenly feeling as though everything which had come before, no matter how powerful or poignant paled in comparison to what it meant to be in this place, which inexplicably felt like home. She inhaled deep, her heart aching with a deep familiarity even though she had never known anything like it before.

Tentative, she touched one of the books nearest her, trailing her fingers down its brass and gem encrusted spine. It trembled, shivering under her touch, responding to her as though awakening from a long slumber. She smiled, her fear and terror during her escape from the library fading away. She had found her touchstone, her home. She never wanted to leave. She took a step forward, reaching out to a book glowing with blue light, beckoning to her. She held her breath as it shunted to the edge of the shelf, easing itself out. It pulled free and fluttered over to her, its pages opening to a spot it wished her to see. She bent to read, entranced, it was a spell about stopping time. She leaned closer, her fingers running over the beautiful calligraphy, the formulae and notes complex yet somehow with the power imbued in the tower, simple to understand. She leaned over, wondering if this spell was the same as—

A bolt of energy slammed into her chest, sending her hurtling backwards. She crashed into the bookshelf against the wall, the air knocked out of her lungs. Pain screamed through her shoulders and back. A tether of crackling blue lightning wrapped around her neck. She scrabbled at it, desperate as it tightened, cutting off her air, suffocating her. She tried to cry for help, but no sound came. She heaved, choking, tears burning her eyes, the cold magic around her neck relentless in its grip. Black spots blossomed within her eyes, spreading, blocking her vision. She sank to her knees, gagging for air, her chest burning. She fell onto all fours, fighting to find her Light. Why wasn't it helping her?

The tether snapped free. Air rushed in. She hauled at it, her lungs and throat screaming, burning hot. The darkness thinned, and by degrees the outline of the library returned, filling in, becoming solid again. She fell back onto her haunches and rubbed her neck, trying to ease the terrible ache the tether had left in its wake.

'Forgive me,' a man said, rushing up and falling to his knees before her. He grasped her shoulder. 'I thought you were someone else. Are you alright?'

Feeling like she might throw up, Idira bit down on her lip, struggling to suppress the pounding waves of nausea. She looked up at her assailant, her vision still blurry from her tears. Khadgar fell back onto his haunches, his expression so unexpected Idira's nausea fled. There was no doubt this time, even through the bright haze of her tears, she could see he was definitely looking at her like she had seen VanCleef look at Myra. He blinked and looked away, his jaw clenching, just like he had done on the balcony. He stood, brusque, and held out his hand, helping her up.

'How did you get into my office?' he asked, sharp, still looking away.

'The door was open,' she answered, her voice hoarse.

Daughter of AzerothWhere stories live. Discover now