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The Soul Slayer
The Soul Slayer
Short Story written by The Gamer Witch featuring Maylria Moonfeather.
It was one of those times when the winds of destiny called to him to travel to the broken world of Outland. Standing before the gates, the man stopped and glanced at the giant fortress in front of him. Many years had passed since he walked the halls of the Black Temple, in great part because of its upstart master known as Akama. He had shattered the promises made by his masters and usurped the fortress through deceit and spilled blood.
Word had reached the night elf demon hunter of the reclaiming of his once-home. Maylria Moonfeather, Mother of Demon Hunters organized the incursion. Now, standing once again beneath its shadow, the Black Temple had never looked more powerful and menacing; able to withstand more attacks than it had back when it was sieged.
He calculated his moves to sneak within the halls, but there was no need. The gates slightly opened as if welcoming him back. With a frown, the man strode with confident steps. He noticed demons roamed the lands just as they once had under Lord Illidan Stormrage’s reign. All about the grounds were warlocks, rogues, priests, all dedicated to the service of the Illidari. Among them, of course, were his own kind: demon hunters.
A young beautiful night elf approached him. “I knew I recognized that aura. El sila erin lu e-govaned vin ,” A star shines upon the hour of our meeting.
“Kor’vas, it has been a while,” he slightly nodded his head. “You are going somewhere?”
“Yes. The Headmistress has sent me out on a small mission. I should be back in a few days,” she pointed at the massive ship above them high in the nether sky. The Fel Hammer had been theirs since the invasion of Mardum.
“I see,” he said.
Kor’vas smirked at the man. “Thoughtful but silent as ever,” she chuckled which prompted a smile from him. “You know where the others are. Have fun,” she patted his arm and began walking away. She stopped midway and turned. “If we do not meet again, die well.” She bowed her head and exited through the gates.
The man turned back to face the Black Temple and without any further delay, made his way through the vast halls and towards the Den of Mortal Delights, where his companions, no doubt, were to be found.
***
Demons, men, women, and everyone else in between or without the dichotomy danced and enjoyed the energies that permeated the vast room. The lights were colorful and entrancing. The music– seductive and hypnotizing. The Den of Mortal Delights was a safe space for people and other beings to lift the weight they carried and enjoy the present moment. A place to come together as one and enjoy the small pleasures this world can provide.
Though there seemed to be a woman caught up in her past. She lay reclined in a lounge seat of red velvet. She wore a see-through mesh skirt that reached all the way down her ankles. The two slits across her thighs elongated her legs. Her dark undergarments wrapped tightly around her waist. The chest piece was a decorative yet elegant green and gold, with a red gemstone in between.
Her brows were furrowed. Her eyes, though fel fire, were distant. Her countenance showed pain and perhaps loneliness. Her thoughts traveled to her daughter who, after the return of Tyrande Whisperwind to Azeroth from the Shadowlands, had stayed behind to help the refugees who had lost everything to the flames. Her best friend and lover was getting married and though she was happy for her, she did not want to come in between their love, regardless if they both desired her.
‘Damn you, Illidan. You should have never left me…’ she thought. Ten years had passed since his departure. The red star in Azeroth’s sky a constant reminder of his absence as he chose to leave her for a role that was never vacant. To be the jailor of Sargeras was surely not where his story ended. ‘ Was it?’
“The atmosphere has improved. Not bad,” a man appeared next to her. She took in the man’s features and cocked her head. His horns stretched to the sides and curled forward. He had long black hair which folded between the scarf he wore around his neck. On his bare chest was some sort of object that emanated powerful energy, too blinding to analyze. She arched an eyebrow, curious about the man.
“I don’t believe we’ve met. You are?” She asked, her voice sultry.
“My name is Zevrad. What’s yours?”
The woman smiled and sat upright. “Nice to meet you, Zevrad. I… agree, there have been improvements.”
Zevrad noted she omitted her name. He decided to let it go for the moment. “Why, then, is your atmosphere clouded? What fog surrounds you that blinds you to the present?”
“You are quite perceptive.” She stood up, “and not quite like the rest, are you?”
“A question is not answered by another question,” he replied. She let out a chuckle.
“You insist on knowing more about me? Very well. Then, answer me this: Are you here on business, or pleasure?”
Her voice echoed as if multiple voices at once spoke. The sheer nature of its seductiveness made him pause.
"What's your story, Zevrad ?" She neared him. "Tell me of your goals, your visions. Tell me about your desires," her fingers traced around the gaping hole in his chest. It pulsed with dark energy emanating from the embedded crystal. "What can I do for someone like you?"
"I did not seek anything before coming here," he remained still.
"And yet fate has brought you here, to me."
"That it has. What I do now is by my own will."
"And what will you do now?" Her fiery sockets flared, a hint of amusement present on her face.
"Something… pleasurable, " his hand grabbed tightly onto hers before she could further probe his core.
"Of course you do. They always do," she turned her grasped hand and pulled him towards her.
The man felt his senses fading. The lights seemed to swirl and flicker. He did not have much to drink yet felt the same effects of a full night of imbibing.
"Come now, darling ," her whispers came from all directions. He felt many hands caress his body as the woman led him to a nearby room.
Shutting the door behind them, the woman pushed the man onto the bed.
WARNING: Mildy NSFW
He let out a groan as the room spun faster. "What… are you doing?" He asked.
"Shh, darling," she sat on his lap and brought an index finger to his lips, then ran her fingers through his scalp.
"She's beautiful. Was she your lover?" She delved into his mind, amusement present on her face.
The elven woman in front of her transformed into a human with pitch-black hair. Her blue eyes penetrated his gaze. The corner of one of her eyes was adorned with a simple curved black line. Zevrad forcefully blinked trying to shake off the illusion. The vision of the woman faded, and he caught a glimpse of the night elf's true form.
“I’ll be anything you desire,” she pushed him down onto the bed as she licked her lips. Zevrad felt his eyes begin to close. He fought with all his strength to stay awake but whatever magic she worked had a strong effect.
‘Just who exactly was she?’ He caught a glimpse of another figure moving in the background before his vision went dark. Had he fallen asleep? No. His eyes were wide open and he was wide awake, all the more as the woman on his lap began undressing him. Her hands traveled through his body. Her tongue traced his tattoos.
“Don’t be shy now, darling. Don’t you want to enjoy the pleasure I can offer?” She giggled. Her seduction magic was strong, and involuntarily Zevrad found himself wanting to devour her. He acted on impulse and desire. They tugged at each other for some time.
‘There’s something not right,’ he thought as he continued undressing her. His acts were involuntary, as if his body was not his own. He noticed the woman on top of him was somehow different. ‘ Shit…’
She took a fistful of hair and pulled his head back. “Let me satisfy your desires, darling. I know what you like,” her hand traveled to his exposed skin, her hips swayed.
‘Damn succubus,’ he gritted his teeth trying to suppress the pleasure he felt. He saw a shadow move in the room.
‘This must be a dream. My real body could be in danger. I have no choice…”
The woman at the edge of the bed turned her head away and laid on a lounge. Her gaze settled on the floor and she was distant once again. She usually took pleasure in watching her demon toy with her meal. Offering their deepest fantasies while feasting on their soul was something the succubus enjoyed. The succubus would only feast a portion at a time. The act would leave them wanting and almost always came back for more until there was nothing left in them to give. The woman didn’t mind the deception. She had come to enjoy the killings. There was no rhyme or reason to them, except that they were all male.
Her thoughts shifted to the nightborne. ‘He’d want you to be true to yourself–enjoy your freedom! I just hate to see you torture yourself.’ Yet she still denied herself for the sake of a man. She swore to never again be shackled by emotions and yet, the moment Illidan returned from his stasis, the walls had broken down. Today, she found herself holding onto empty promises, vows that were broken with time. She experienced true solitude, the one that came where even though you are surrounded by people you feel alone and empty.
Perhaps it wasn’t his absence that she mourned. It was the freedom she lacked when he was around. She loved him.
Oh, how she loved Illidan. But the loss of her independence was another shackle to her soul. ‘Except, he’s not here anymore. So, why am I holding myself back? Why do I deny myself happiness?’
A shadow moved to her left towards her. The being, solid and shapen, came to a halt. He hovered over her, preventing her escape.
“I do not like deception,” the man growled. The woman sat shocked at the man in front of her. It was Zevrad. She took a look towards the bed. His body lay there–motionless; asleep. The succubus sat above him, her hands probing his bulge with a back-and-forth motion. She looked back at him, menacingly.
“I would have thought you would at least participate,” he hissed.
“The pleasure is all yours.”
Annoyance crossed his face when suddenly his entire being shook. He turned his head to see the succubus press herself down on him. The woman stood and pushed him into the floor. He struggled until she was off of him. She unsheathed daggers from under the lounge and spun them around her fingers. Zevrad’s extension of himself was without a weapon but needed none. He launched towards her, throwing calculated punches. She blocked them. She held onto his shoulders, spun, grabbed him by his neck as she swung her legs around him, effectively making them fall as she landed on top. She pressed the dagger at his neck.
“Give me one good reason to not kill you right now,” she spoke in several tones. Her aura was threatening. No longer was the temptress before him, but a menacing predator. A dangerous and vicious demon stood before him. For a moment he felt fear, but realized he could retract to his body at any time.
“I’ve done nothing wrong. Release me, that we may speak like civilized beings.”
“Is that why you approached me? To speak?”
“You looked distraught; like you needed someone to listen for once.”
Indignant, she scowled. Anger threatened to overtake her. It was precisely when he felt his soul being ripped. He turned his face towards the succubus and saw her mouth wide open with sharp needles for teeth. From his body, a faint glow appeared. The two women, though currently separate entities, acted as one. Zevrad’s ghastly clone pulsed energy and disappeared. The woman realized his objective and quickly turned to her succubus, recalling her.
‘His soul… it is…’ the succubus’ voice went silent. The night elf’s chest burned, her throat felt dry, and began coughing. She glanced towards the bed. The man was slowly rising, grasping his horned head. The woman tossed the dagger on the lounge and raised her head in defiance.
“All who visit my Den are concerned with their wants and needs. But not you necessarily,” she chuckled. “I was right about you,” a smirk crossed her lips. “Speak your mind. What did you see?”
He sat upright, turning his face to her. He thought for a moment and spoke. “I think you lost someone you love. Your mind is clouded; your heart, corroded. I speak by experience,” he paused. “Love truly is the death of peace of mind. Whoever he is… he isn't worth the suffering.”
Her smirk faded but just for a moment. Her gaze turned to his lap and back at him, a wicked smile present. “Be careful what you say and to whom you say it.”
The man looked down at his lap and noticed the absent garments. He grabbed them from the bed and pressed them down on his lap, shifting uncomfortably. She approached him slowly like a predator stalking her prey. Her gaze met his. Her fingers traced his lips. "You still wish to know my name?"
He nodded.
She lowered her face and kissed him. "I am Maylria. It was a pleasure to finally meet you," she smirked and turned away from him walking towards the door.
"I do hope our paths cross again," she slightly bowed her head and left.
Zevrad stood still for a while. His face was stoic but he heard his heart pounding in his ears. She wasn’t just any demon hunter, or just a succubus. She was Lord Illidan’s consort; the second of their kind.
“Zevrad are you-” a man stood before the door. Zevrad saw his companion gasp and laugh nervously. “Shit, I thought you were a goner, “ he sheepishly laughed. “Not many survive an encounter with the Headmistress. You must’ve done something right.”
The man remained silent, still intoxicated by her lingering presence. Though their interaction was short-lived and frenzied, he hoped to have another audience with her. And next time, he swore, he will not be caught off guard so easily.
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