Last Time on Emberheart Z: No Rest for the Embers

🔥Last time on Emberheart Z!🔥

Lightbloom and Loas and Cultists, oh my!

It had been a busy week for Azeroth and for Emberheart. Between aiding the Sin’dorei in their besieged homeland and searching for either Vaer Ming or vengeance against the Twilight’s Blade, wounds—both old and new—had piled high. A clinic was arranged at the main Ar’nareth estate within Eversong Woods for the healers of the Expedition to change that.

Most of the time was spent patching up guild members and listening to the wild tales of adventure everyone brought back, though, privately, it was also a time for surveillance. It seems that the Expedition’s “spirited discussions” with the cultists had caused a small number to defect. Lady Macko graciously granted them limited access to the healing resources as a sign of good faith, though they were pushed to the fringes of the clinic.

The moment of recovery, however, was interrupted by the arrival of a newcomer: a man bearing a deep, twisted, and ugly rune carved, or perhaps branded, into his chest. The wound seeped fresh blood despite being several days old. The sigil itself was jagged, formed of sickly violet and black, and shaped almost like a musical note. When the healers moved to help him, a few things became immediately clear. Simply looking upon the symbol filled the viewer with an unsettling dread. Worse still, any attempt to heal it with magic caused the wound to tear wider, creeping toward vital organs as fresh blood poured forth.

Upon questioning (and a small amount of mental probing from Ralthis Greensummer), the man revealed his name to be Trethas Evenvein. He claimed to have been a prisoner of the Twilight’s Blade before escaping their grasp. More troubling still, the runic brand appeared to limit his ability to use magic. Any spell cast near it caused the rune to react like a hungry maw, devouring whatever magic was offered to it.

While the story was sympathetic, it was quickly pointed out that when dealing with the Void, thoughts and memories could be as fluid as water—and just as easily altered.

What passed through Macko’s mind in the moment before it all went up in smoke remains unknown. What is known is that she reached into the darkness and attempted to use shadow magic to heal what had been broken. As living shadow met fading shadow, the consequences were immediate and catastrophic. A soundless scream seemed to tear through the air. The lines of the brand began to boil, the black ink bubbling and transforming into a viscous, tar-like substance. Violet light erupted from the wound, crackling with violent energy. It lashed outward like whips, striking those nearby before collapsing violently inward. The flesh around the rune blackened and split. The magical backlash exploded outward, sending force and pain through everyone gathered around the bed.

Most were spared critical injury. Lady Macko was not.

She was left with her face horrifically burned, robbing her of her sight. In the wake of the blast, the clinic descended into triage as healers rushed to stabilize the wounded, and those without such gifts raced to grab whatever supplies were being shouted for. Amid the chaos, Trethas quietly succumbed to his injuries, passing from the world without the Expedition realizing it.

With him died his secrets… and the truth of his intent. Was he truly an innocent, a pawn in whatever dark game Emberheart finds itself in? Or was he a willing living bomb, meant to cause the destruction of this attempt at restoration?

---------------------What awaits the Expedition? Find out next time on Emberheart Z!!------------------

The void rune, etched on stone rather than mortal flesh