The Search for Seryth, Chapters 14-17

Chapter 16: Ezran made his way back to the town alone. He lied, saying he had slain the she-demon, but then promised a truth, that the town would no longer be troubled by demonic machinations for as long as Ezran defended it. The new mayor pledged loyalty to him, and Ezran asked for a swift horse to take him to the Blasted Lands.

He met with the she-demon again outside of Darkshire. His horse shuddered and twitched at the dreadsteed she rode. They raced through Deadwind Pass in the darkest part of the night.

The Blasted Lands crawled with unaffiliated orcs and dark spirits of the past. Through stealth and swiftness, the she-demon brought Ezran to the Altar of Storms.


Warlocks had set up camps all about the Altar. Ezran fully dropped his illusion, and the warlocks bowed to the ren’dorei as he and the she-demon made their way to their leader. Through negotiations and lies, Ezran determined their motives. They were a splinter of the Black Harvest, who Seryth had co-opted and disbanded. They had reformed now, warily, in hopes of pledging to Ormmoth once the ancient demon’s power was fully realized.

“How will you ensure that?” asked Ezran. “I would like to help.”

The warlocks sent him back to Darkshire, where, rumor had it, the last shard of the Nathsyssn was hiding.


Darkshire was a bloodbath when Ezran arrived. Warlocks had forced their way into the inn, into a specific room where they claimed Seryth had once slept. The ghost of blood lay on the floor, revealed by dark rituals, as well as the footprints of a paladin, glowing with light.

“He must carry the last shard already,” said one of the warlocks to Ezran, musing, “but why then has Ormmoth not risen?”

Hope kindled in Ezran, but he shoved it down, hiding it just as he hid his holy symbol under his jerkin.

The warlock answered his own question. “Perhaps it’s the influence of this paladin.”

“The one they call Fordrellon?” Ezran offered.

“No,” said the warlock after a pause. “All reports say he is compromised. Something else keeps the Zilv’natha from succumbing. We must remove this last resistance.”

“I will scout for you,” said Ezran. “I have many disguises I can draw on for the cause.”

The warlock bowed to him. “Of course, Grandfather.”

“Do not call me that.”


“Ezran rode out from Darkshire the next morning. He and the she-demon exchanged brief goodbyes, and Ezran told her she would be safest cutting ties to the warlocks and going into hiding.

“What do you know?” she asked.

“Only that the Stormwind Watch will soon cleanse Darkshire.” He intended to make sure the news of the warlocks got to the appropriate authorities as soon as possible. “If you hear of other news, bring it to me. In all other ways, do not cross me, or I will find means to extend that cleansing to you.”

The she-demon’s eyes narrowed. “Of course,” she hissed.

Ezran didn’t expect she’d follow through, but he had more pressing concerns. Seryth could perhaps still be saved, and it was quite possible Fordrellon had a target on his back. He made for Stormwind, and from there, to Dalaran and Val’sharah, in all haste.

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