Death Never Dies

by Milton Garby

  The mechanical lights around her dimmed for a moment. The Old God magic in her hand collapsed into a point and then burst outwards. If Sara blinked, she would have missed it. A jagged lance of purple lightning zig-zagged through the air in an instant, and the tip struck around where Sara had been aiming. The Tram was still moving, so the flicker of shadow magic caused by the impact zipped out of sight almost instantly, but the recoil knocked Sara on her back.

  She blinked. Whoa.

  The tunnel of water receded, and Sara tried again. Casting the spell was a little easier the second time around; it only took one minute as opposed to five. She braced herself as well, and when the lightning bolt of madness lashed at the ground the kick didn't make her budge.

  While waiting to arrive in Ironforge she kept practicing the spell, over and over. By the time the Tram started to slow down, Sara got her cast time down to roughly ten seconds. Still not really suitable for combat, but she hadn't been practicing long and it was a very tricky spell.

  Sara stood and grabbed a nearby bar to steady herself, cracking her back. Old God spells aside, she was almost in Ironforge and she hadn't forgotten her plan. Join a guild. They help her turn demons inside out, and at the same time she'd be around all sorts of people and could force herself to befriend them. It'd be grueling work, but the alternative was to... yeah.

  The Deeprun Tram slid into its station, a little cube box of metal and wire, and stopped with a gut-wrenching jerk. Everyone disembarked with shaking legs and kinks in their back. Sara zapped a rat with her psychosis spell, instantly killing the rodent. She killed a few more before being satisfied enough to exit into Tinkertown.

  The tunnel to Tinkertown had rotating gears outside the wall, far enough that she wouldn't be hit but close enough that some idiot had probably been killed by them in the past.

  Tinkertown itself was surprisingly large for a small people, even if the gnomes had taken back Gnomeragan ten years ago. Some gnomes still resided in the area, walking in lines between various shops on the outskirts, engrossed in reading material, and generally almost making Sara trip. Tinkertown's ground was made of overlapping metal plates bolted together, and in the middle was a podium surrounded by spinning gears; the podium was empty. Around the perimeter of Tinkertown were stores, houses, and mailboxes all sized for the gnomes who still lived there, and above them the vaulting walls were covered in all sorts of yellow pipes that dove in and out of the metal plates they were attached to. The sound of rattling gears filled the air and it smelled of burning oil.

  Sara didn't stick around long, and she headed to the left exit. The tunnels that left Tinkertown had entrances shaped like gears, similar to the tunnel from the Deeprun Tram. As she walked to the Military Ward, Sara pondered how exactly she would go about the process.

  Guilds didn't technically have to be in the Alliance military; however most ones took part in combat and so were technically part of it. They could be ordered around as such, with their own varying authority depending on their accomplishments. If she joined up a guild, she would have to submit an application, be interviewed, and go through background checks. Of course there was one little problem. As far as the Alliance knew, she was last in Nethergarde roughly a week ago. She was certain everyone in Nethergarde was dead, so if she just suddenly appeared after a week, in Ironforge instead of Stormwind, that was going to raise some eyebrows.

  Sara obviously couldn't tell the truth about why she hadn't died, so she needed to start coming up with a very convincing lie. That was going to be tricky, but nothing she couldn't figure out. She briefly entertained the idea of going to the main Alliance army first to clear up her situation, but decided against it. It'd be better to go to a guild, let them figure out who she was, have the main army learn of her through second hand, and so on. Force them to jump through hoops. Though she would need an excuse... she'd probably need to use some mind magic as well.

  From what she knew, the guild application process took a few steps. First she needed to go in and, obviously, request to enter. She'd then be given a form to fill out and hand in. After the form was reviewed she'd be brought in for an interview, after which a background check would be conducted. Or maybe before the interview, she wasn't sure. Once her form was in place, her interview went well, and her background check revealed nothing criminal, she'd be in the guild.

  Then it was only a matter of time before the Alliance military got wind of her survival and came after her. With any luck she'd have a few weeks for the war and bureaucracies to weigh them down, but...

  ... oh well.

  The Military Ward of Ironforge was as cavernous as she'd thought; she hadn't gotten a good look last time she was here. The ceiling vaulted up to a dizzying height, and she wondered why the dwarves would build so high. It did nothing to make her forget that she was underground , a reality that made her skin itch and her breathing weak. In the center was a little dip filled with burning coals, hilariously open for the public to fall into. Banners hung over open doors, and to the left was a large, elaborate series of stairs and gateways into what she remembered was a war room. She already knew which of the many doors lead to the Chimes of A'dal guild hall - really, was there any other choice? - but... instead of walking there, Sara hesitated.

  Heh, surely she could spend some time practicing her magic on the nearby training dummies. She was in no rush, right?

  Hahah.

  Right.

  The Military Ward connected to the center of Ironforge through a wide, wide tunnel that went to the Great Forge at the middle. On one side of the tunnel, training dummies were laid out. Most were small, about the size of a human, but one in particular was gigantic and looked as though it'd take an Aspect to destroy. The only person currently present was a night elf man practicing on one of the sturdier dummies, right next to the tall one.

  Sara moved along until she was at the very end of the row of straw people and fixed her chosen dummy with a glare. She brought her hands up in a casting stance and began focusing on the spell again. For having just started it only a few hours ago, she'd made a lot of progress. Already down to ten seconds, even if she didn't entirely understand the theory behind it. That was good progress, but still completely useless for combat. Yogg-Saron, at a fraction of its power, could cast it every single second with perfect aim. She didn't think she'd be able to do that well, but she could at least get it to two or three seconds.

  With her casting stance settled, she summoned her Old God powers again and began stitching the spell together, piece by piece. Her focus slipped though, and added even more time to her casting. Luckily once she got it, her years of sparring paid off and she blasted the dummy right in the head. A burst of dark violet fog surrounded it, slowly drifting to the ground and fading away.

  Hmm. She could do better. She'd go apply to a guild once she got it down to five seconds. But no stalling after that!

  Another beam, ten seconds.

  Nine.

  Eleven.

  On and on, Sara kept casting. The spell wasn't very mana intensive, and with her mana pool practicing it was easy. Slowly but surely she got better at tying the spell together. She grouped parts of it into chunks to help memorize it. Nine seconds. Eight. Seven, six. Each magical bolt sent a small shockwave of mist away from the dummy's head,

  Her stomach rumbled, and she grimaced. She still had some gold left over from her thieving in Dalaran, so she pushed herself a little more until she managed to cast the psychosis spell in five seconds. Sara did it a few more times to be sure it wasn't a fluke and, satisfied with her improvement, went about getting herself something to eat for lunch. Or maybe dinner. It was hard to tell time underground, which was just another reason that it was awful.

  She found a dwarven woman roaming around selling bread. It wasn't exactly a hearty meal, but it was okay in a pinch and Sara had to admit, the loaves were very warm, freshly baked and just perfectly spongy. Very cheap too, she still had roughly seven gold left over and that could last her a bit if
she was careful. Worst came to worse, she'd have to mug someone again, and with all the new spells she was thinking about toying with it wouldn't be as hard as it was last time. It would only take a couple of hours to find someone and...

  She was stalling and she knew it.

  "Come on Sara, get a grip," she growled at herself. She walked back to the Military Ward and towards one of the far corner guild halls. There was no door, rather there was just a relatively small gate in the stone walls that admitted both entrance and exit. It didn't take long to approach it while weaving between the relatively light crowds, and she didn't even have to duck her head to get inside.

  The first thing she saw was a split path; one branch went left and the other right. Thankfully, a little sign was placed over each, signifying that the left tunnel was for guild members, and the right tunnel was for applications. There was some murmur of noise coming from the left, but she - obviously - went right. In moments the tunnel opened up into a skillfully carved waiting room. There were cushioned seats along the walls as well as little shelves that held pencils. Dwarven paintings of Dun Morogh lined the walls, and glass lanterns filled with glowing bugs gave a shifting, dim glow to the room's red walls.

  Most notably, there was one wall bearing an open window into a room behind it. In the other room there were tables with papers arranged into stacks, pencils and quill pens, and one dwarvish woman sitting on a chair that put her at eye level with Sara.

  She let a shiver run through her body and smiled warmly. "Hi!" Sara chirped, approaching the window. "I'd like to apply for the Chimes of A'dal, can I have a form?" she asked in an upbeat, cheery voice that hid how desperately she wanted to run or kill or mind control her way in.

  The dwarf nodded. "Sure can!" The older woman reached over and took some papers from a stack and slid them over to Sara. "Just fill out this information and hand it in, I'll help you through the rest of the process. Do make sure you know what you're getting into, with the war and all."

  Sara frowned. "Yeah, the war." She took the papers and an offered pencil.

  The war that she, if she stopped being a coward, could win single handedly by changing back into an Old God.

  She pressed a hand against her forehead. No, no, none of those thoughts. She was doing this specifically to stop having those thoughts. She went to a seat and plopped onto it, resting the forms on a nearby stand.

  Glancing at the various lines she had to fill out, Sara frowned. This was it. The moment she handed this paper in, it was only a matter of time before the Alliance found her. Maybe she'd be better off learning a shapeshift spell from Yogg-Saron - surely it knew one - and going to the Horde. But that had a whole - ahem - horde of problems on its own. She'd need to be fluent in Orcish, she'd need to have a good understanding of the places to go, people to contact, locations to use. It'd probably be less of a headache to let the Alliance military get close to her and then 'convince' them to leave her alone. And if things went really wrong she could go to Northrend and help the dragons.

  She filled out her name. She filled out her race, her gender, her date of birth, place of birth, and much more. She checked boxes about her income. She checked boxes about her physical capabilities. Magical capabilities. Education. She wrote about her other skills, such as her time in a dueling club and both her expert-level inscription and enchantment skills. She made sure to mention her early graduation as a Magister, her skills, anything that could be seen as an attractive quality while obviously leaving out anything... sensitive. She wasn't applying for an academic position, so letters of recommendation and such weren't needed. It took some time, most of which was spent figuring out what she could and couldn't include, but Sara finished filling out the forms.

  Her legs ached when she got up from her seat. The dwarf had, while Sara had been busy, started working on a newspaper crossword. "Alright, I've filled out everything! How long should I expect to wait before called in for an interview?"

  The other woman took the papers and stacked them together more evenly. "Well normally the process takes a few days, but we're not exactly in peace time so it will be streamlined. An hour or two and someone should be by to conduct your interview."

  Sara stared nervously at the papers. She could still request them back. Find another way. There had to be something she could figure out if she just sat down for a few hours and thought hard. Instead she gritted her teeth behind a tight smile. "Is it okay if I just wait here for them to come get me?"

  "It would be for the best, save us the trouble of having to find you. And my shift's not over for a while yet, so that's good."

  "Mmhmm," she grunted, walking back to one of the chairs and collapsing into it. She crossed her legs and let her thoughts begin to wander. Sara tried to keep her thoughts off anything serious, she was doing more than enough serious thinking recently. Her thoughts turned to her letter. Her parents wouldn't have received it yet, but she hoped that when they did any concerns they had over her 'death' in Nethergarde would be assuaged. She'd made sure to tell them that she was fine, that she'd had a hold up while trying to escape the Legion - she couldn't go too in depth in case the military also read her letter - and included some personal facts about their family so they could know it was actually her.

  Really, she should have sent that letter long ago. She was a terrible person for letting them worry so long. But at least now everything would be alright. They'd know she was alive, and she'd get into a guild. Sara would stop wanting to destroy the world, and the Burning Legion would, like every other time, be repelled by Azeroth's combined skill. The world kept turning, tides kept coming in and out.

  It was fine.

  Her thoughts drifted to her spellwork, then her thoughts went to Yogg-Saron's memories. She immersed herself in them, 'reading' the story of what it had done before the Titans came out of morbid curiosity. In her mind's eye she saw... tornadoes. She saw blood rain. Sara went further back. Everything had origins, and while the Old Gods had planted the idea that they were neverending beings from beyond that could never be touched, that was just a useful lie.

  She knew their origins, but that was too far back. Yogg-Saron didn't know any useful magic that far back.

  Shadow magic. Arcane magic. How to turn Old God magic to arcane powers. Sara had only ever used shadow magic, but she wondered if maybe she could at least manage some basic fire spells? She looked at the matrixes the Old God had used to turn its powers to flame. They looked... manageable. Not here though.

  Of course, thinking of being able to wield fire magic made Sara's thoughts stray to what it'd be like to burn Stranglethorn Vale to the ground. To go to Tirisfal, built above the fifth and 'final' Old God, and incinerate the woods. She dimly wondered if it would recognize her as Yogg-Saron, or as just another mortal to bend to its will, and a shiver ran down her spine. From what she could see of Yogg-Saron's memory, Tsa'Thannon was unimaginably powerful even as far as Old Gods went. Not as cruel as Y'Shaarj or as mentally powerful as N'Zoth, but the images of its combat magic...

  Eh, it'd probably recognize her.

  Sara was startled from her thoughts - and possibly from a nap she didn't realize she was taking - by someone knocking on the wall next to her. She hardly even realized she'd closed her eyes, or that her throat was disgustingly dry. She glanced to her left to see that someone else had entered through the door. The man was dressed up in a fancy suit and tie, with black dress shoes to go with his outfit. He was rather handsomely built and as muscular as a pit lord, with dark skin and silver hair. "Miss Smithers?" he asked, looking down at her.

  She stood and smoothed her dress. "That would be me." She held out her hand and smiled warmly. "I suppose you will be conducting my interview?" she asked, tilting her head.

  He took her hand and shook it vigorously. Sara had to suppress a wince. His grip was tight and his skin was unbearably cold. "Yes, I will. Please, right this way." She followed after him, back into the intersection room where they turned into the left hallway.

 
; More doorways lined this second path, and she dimly remembered that one of them went to the guild's living quarters. The roof was uncomfortably low. Not so low she had to crouch, but low enough that she felt suffocated. He led her to the third door on the right, which did a few more ninety-degree turns through more doorways before she was led into another room.

  This one's ceiling was comfortably high, and red borders went along the edges of the brown walls. Her legs felt like cold noodles, as she took in the sight of the professional-looking desk, with an overly padded chair behind it and a name plate that said "Coordinator of Applicants" without actually giving a name. The stacks of paper were uneven and the pencils misaligned. The man moved around behind it and gestured for her to take a seat on an equally padded chair.

  He looked at one of the papers. She realized it was the application she had submitted a few hour ago. She didn't know exactly how long, though. "I hope everything was alright with my application?" she asked. "No hidden boxes I forgot to check or anything?"

  "No, that's all right. So, I have a series of questions for you. Firstly, what brought about your interest in our guild? How have you heard of us?"

  There would probably be repeat questions, to make sure she wasn't telling a story. That was fine. She hadn't lied that much on the application. "I actually have a friend in here already, Leira Vindalis." He nodded. "Figured what works for her would work for me, we go way back. Also, I thought this would be a good place to help defend against the Legion."

  "I see, so a prior contact." He wrote that down. "What skills do you have to offer us, miss?"

  She held up her right hand and let violet magic play across her fingers, leaving dark mist hanging in the air. "I am a very powerful spell caster. I can instantly kill a dreadlord by casting a corruption spell on it." And now that she knew what she was, it made sense that spell was so potent. "I can also manipulate thought processes with great precision. I can cure procrastination, alter pain tolerance, reaction times, and so forth. In addition I can manipulate souls to the extent where I can resurrect people who have been dead for up to a week, and I am an expert at both enchanting gear and creating glyphs."