The three travelers had opted to spend a week at the local inn while planning their next move. Sahtra excelled at strategizing in matters of both civilian and militaristic in nature. Mori lacked the experience to have the necessary wisdom, but she was adept at remembering details, so the death knight had bought her a book on the history and culture of the Mogu for her to peruse. Perhaps she might learn something that would be useful in their fight against the ancient necromancer.

 

Vel’rosh, though neither a strategist nor particularly knowledge-hungry, was disciplined and dedicated, so he spent his mornings and afternoons training to become better acquainted with his unholy powers. His reunion with Mori and Sahtra was not intended to be a permanent one by any means, but having another, more experienced death knight to whom he could ask questions greatly accelerated the progress from his training. In the nighttime, Mori and Vel’rosh would go to sleep; the former out of necessity, and the latter in an effort to retain some semblance of being one of the living.

 

On this evening, three days after Moldmane’s death, Mori sat in her room, cross-legged and leaning against the bed, reading through the section of the book on the anatomical composition of the Mogu. Though the original members of the titan-forged race were truly made of stone and indestructible, the newer members had been afflicted with the curse of flesh and had more recognizable bodily makeup and functions. While studying a cutaway of the arm, Mori heard the two death knights speaking to one another (something they did not usually do) and quietly moved to the doorway to eavesdrop.

 

“I have come to find, Sahtra, that there are many people who avoid interacting with me once they realize I am a death knight,” the orc paced around the room as he spoke, “They won’t even give me a chance!”

 

“You don’t say.”

 

Vel’rosh walked up to Sahtra and stood firmly. “But I want to change that. I wish to blend in better with the people, to live among them and be accepted. How do I hide the smell of undeath? How do I stop my blue eyes from glowing through my helm?”

 

Sahtra looked down at his helm, holding the piece of saronite armor with his gloved hands and rotating it around. “Relying on others to judge your worthiness of their company is idiotic,” he replied sternly, “you will have enemies no matter how hard you try to be ‘good’. It is also foolish to impair your own eyesight for the sake of hiding something that can easily be discerned through other means.” The human death knight placed the skeletal helm snugly on his head and fastened his cloak to his chest piece. Standing still, he suddenly noticed that the rhythmic turning of pages had ceased for several minutes now.

 

“Mori,” Sahtra turned to the doorway, “you may come out of your hiding place now. It’s alright.”

 

The young blood elf turned red with embarrassment. How had Sahtra known she was there?! Mori clutched her book in her arms and slowly walked into the room—

 

“Wait!” she cried out, seeing him in full armor, “Are you going somewhere?”

 

Sahtra waved his hand, and a purple portal topped with a horned skull appeared in front of him. “I am,” the human death knight replied, picking up a golden sword from his bed, “I need to take Shalamayne to Acherus to be runeforged.”

 

Mori dropped her book and grasped Sahtra’s cloak with both hands. “Take me with you! Please!”

 

The human death knight laughed as he knelt in front of the young necromancer and ruffled her silver hair. “It’s too dangerous for you, little one,” he spoke gently, “and besides, I have left Vel’rosh in charge to make sure you are safe here. He already knows what awaits him if any harm comes to you.” Mori glanced at the orc, who bore a look of dread on his pale green face; she wondered what kind of threat could have unnerved him to this degree even after his transformation into undeath.

 

“Okay,” she murmured, “but I’ll…I’ll miss you.” Mori let go of Sahtra’s cloak and stepped back.

 

“Don’t be so glum, Mori, it’ll only be for a few days. I will be back before you know it. Now, how about a smile?”

 

The young blood elf mustered a weak smile and waved goodbye to the human death knight as he stepped inside the portal and disappeared. The ensuing silence was awkward for both the orc and the young blood elf; Vel’rosh couldn’t find the right words to talk to Mori and she, in turn, did not feel obligated to engage in conversation with him. The two stood there, about one yard apart, waiting for the other to say something.

 

At last, as Mori reached for her book and turned toward the door, Vel’rosh stopped her. “Wait, Mori, I have…something for you.” The young necromancer looked at the former paladin but said nothing. The orc reached into the sack he had been carrying around with him and pulled out a stuffed animal – a green baby turtle plush nearly one foot long – and held it out to her.

 

“I know how much you love turtles,” Vel’rosh spoke as gently as he could, “I saw this in a market in the central hills of Kun-Lai and I was instantly reminded of you. Please take it as a token of my good will. I want to make it all up to you, I promise.”

 

Mori’s eyes widened with surprise as she reached out for the turtle and clasped it, bringing it close to her chest and wrapping her arms around the plush. The long verdant fibers caressed her face softly, and her lips curved into a smile as its touch comforted her.

 

“Thank you…Vel’rosh,” the young necromancer murmured, “I love it.”

 

“You’re welcome, Mori,” the orc replied, “it isn’t much, but perhaps it can keep you company while Sahtra is away. It amazes me how close you two have become in such a short time, but…I’m happy for you.” Vel’rosh did not add that he still believed Mori would be better off with someone else who (in his opinion) would be a better influence, but he knew it was not his place to judge.

 

The young blood elf absent-mindedly nodded, having felt Sahtra’s absence immediately, and returned to her room with the book and turtle plush. Crawling into bed, she unsuccessfully attempted to continue reading and instead hid under the covers, clutching the stuffed turtle.

 

The night passed uneventfully. The next morning, Mori woke up early and snuck a glance into Sahtra’s room (in case he had returned) before heading downstairs to the kitchen. The death knight, for he never slept, had taken to preparing her breakfast before she would arrive. Without his aid, the young blood elf struggled to reach the box of oats in the cupboard, and the orc walked in on her current attempts at retrieving it.

 

“Would you…would you like some help, Mori?”

 

“Nah,” she replied, “I can do it myself.” Mori pulled a wooden chair over to the counter and stood on it, withdrawing the oats and hopping back onto the floor. She pulled a bottle of cold milk from the refrigerator and a bowl and spoon from the cabinet and sat herself at the kitchen table. For several minutes, the room’s occupants were silent save for Mori’s crunching of the oats and the strike of the metal spoon on the wooden bowl.

 

“You know, Mori,” Vel’rosh sat down in the chair opposite her, “this reminds me of my days as a teenage orc when I made breakfast for my brothers and sisters.”

 

“Cool.”

 

“Do you…er…did you have any siblings?”

 

“No,” she replied flatly, “I’ve never had any.” It was not customary for high elven couples to bear more than one child, if they decided to have any at all. Whether or not she would have liked to have a brother or sister was not something Mori had spent time thinking about; they, too, would more than likely have perished in the fall of Quel’Thalas.

 

“I see.”

 

The young blood elf ate the rest of her breakfast in silence and returned to her room to resume reading the book on the Mogu. Minutes turned into hours, and the sun dipped below the horizon. Vel’rosh had since retreated to Sahtra’s room, but Mori had not cared enough to find out what he was up to. Clutching her baby turtle plush with one hand and her book with the other, she sat cross-legged on her bed and read the time away.

 

Well into the night, Mori heard a soft rustle from outside her window.

 

“Sahtra?” she placed her book down and walked carefully towards it, “Sahtra, are you back?”

 

No sooner had Mori reached the window than a pair of glowing golden eyes opened and stared at the young necromancer from the darkness.

 

“Oh! Oh no…no!” Mori backed away from the window as the figure who possessed the eyes slowly climbed through the opening, revealing itself to be a blue-skinned Zandalari troll. At its full height, the troll was nearly twice her size and tenfold her strength.

 

“I found ya, little girl,” the Zandalari troll hissed as he gripped her arm with his gargantuan hand, his claws tearing through her sleeve and digging into her soft flesh, “and now you gonna die.” The invader lifted his other hand, clutching a curved dagger, and was about to thrust it into Mori’s chest when she screamed.

 

“HELP! VEL’ROSH!”

 

The high-pitched yell was distracting enough for the Zandalari troll to stutter on the descent of the blade, and gave time for the orc to respond to the cry for help. After barely a moment’s delay, the invader sailed through the air and into the gauntleted palm of the former paladin, who followed up with a thrust of unholy magic into the troll’s torso.

 

“Mori! Attack him while he’s weakened!”

 

Vel’rosh needn’t have said anything, for as soon as the troll had been swooped away from her, Mori immediately began preparing a ball of blight and slammed it into the troll’s back, the impact causing him to hunch over and vomit blood. The wound in her arm throbbed as she coursed necromantic magic through her fingers, but she could not afford to hold back.

 

In the troll’s vulnerable state, Vel’rosh was able to grab it by the neck and anchor it against the wall. “Take this, you filthy intruder!” The former paladin unsheathed his corrupted greatsword and pierced the troll in the heart, and its lifeless body slowly slid down and slumped on the floor.

 

“That was close—”

 

“Vel’rosh! Behind you!” Mori pointed a small finger towards the right, and Vel’rosh looked over his shoulder to find another Zandalari troll who was disappointed that her surprise attack had been spoiled. Holding his sword, the orc twirled around to face her, the motion cutting deeply into the troll’s abdomen and sending her into retreat.

 

“Not so fast!” The orc death knight brought her back to him and swung at her neck, the slice not going all the way through but proving lethal, nonetheless.

 

With the two trolls dead, Mori did not dare wait for any more to show up before performing her task. As a means of bolstering her security and preventing the souls of the intruders to return to whence they came, Mori raised the two Zandalari trolls and stationed them at each window. Vel’rosh intently listened for any additional trolls or otherwise assassins moving outside but heard nothing, only satisfied after half an hour of silence.

 

“Mori…you might not like this idea,” he spoke worriedly, “but I think it is best if you and I stay in Sahtra’s room until he returns. I do not want to leave you alone, and he needs to hear of this intrusion as soon as possible.”

 

The young blood elf nodded, seeing no reason to argue. After wrapping a clean cloth around her lower arm, she climbed onto Sahtra’s bed, holding her baby turtle plush to her chest and staring anxiously at the location at which Sahtra had first summoned his death gate. She desperately hoped he would return, and soon. Vel’rosh, too, shared her anticipation as he paced back and forth in the corner of the room.

 

Some hours later, as Mori desperately struggled to fight off sleep, a tear in the space in front of her spread and became a large purple portal through which the familiar figure of the human death knight stepped. The young blood elf’s eyes widened and she jumped off the bed, leaving the plush behind on the mattress.

 

“I’m so glad you’re back!” she cried out, clasping Sahtra’s gloved hands with her bare ones, “It felt like you were gone forever!” At this moment, she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and feel safe, but she did not dare attempt that just yet.

 

The human death knight smiled from behind his skeletal helm as he knelt in front of Mori and held her hands tightly. “I told you I would return—” Sahtra noticed Mori's tattered sleeve and the wrapped cloth and subsequently the dried blood splattered on the wall behind her, “What is this?” His voice turned stone cold almost immediately as he stood up. “Vel’rosh, explain what happened,” he ordered.

 

“It was an attack no more than four hours ago,” the orc replied, “Two Zandalari trolls entered the rooms, one from each window, trying to slay us both. However, we prevailed.” The former paladin motioned at Mori and she nodded, commanding both undead minions to step out of her room and stand behind her.

 

Sahtra let go of Mori’s hands and withdrew his new runeforged blade, the famous and revered Shalamayne, once wielded by King Varian Wrynn himself. Though the copy the death knight held in his hand was from an alternate universe, it was still just as powerful and now attuned to his necrotic power such that it glowed blue instead of golden. The runes carefully etched into its white blades pulsed with power as he held it forward.

 

“If you’ll excuse me, child,” Sahtra spat as he grabbed one of the undead Zandalari trolls and thrust the sword through its heart, killing it swiftly. With his right arm temporarily disappearing (an act the orc himself did not get to see the first time), the death knight grabbed the free soul and brought it to the mortal plane, his arm reappearing with a bright sphere of white wisps that untangled themselves to form a transparent figure of the male Zandalari troll.

 

“Answer me!” he shouted at the soul of the intruder, “Who are you and what are you doing here?” Mori heard the anger in his voice and was silently thankful that she could not see the accompanying expression on his face, for it would surely have struck terror in her heart.

 

The soul of the Zandalari troll was compelled to reply. “I be Ja’kari, one of de Spirit Twisters serving Tsuo-Lin,” it answered in a monotonic voice, “I be sent here to eliminate de man, de child, and any wit whom dey have conspired against de Eternal One.”

 

“Write this all down, Mori,” Sahtra pondered his next question for a short moment as the young blood elf grabbed a spare piece of parchment and a pen. “Where is your Master?”

 

“De Eternal One has a lair in de northeastern mountains of Kun-Lai, nestled not more dan a mile from Mogu’shan Vaults.”

 

“Are there any traps?” Any powerful necromancer worth their title would have some sort of warding field or barrier to prevent unauthorized access to their secret laboratories, but the Mogu as a race were known for implanting intricate and dangerous traps in their own palaces to stop unwanted guests.

 

“Dere be a pattern on de door…protectin’ de entrance…only de dead can see…else you will die if you try to get in…”

 

The soul of the Zandalari troll began to flicker, and Sahtra realized he only had time for one more question. “How did you know we were here?”

 

“We be keepin’ an eye on de wolf-mon,” the soul revealed, “he made a promise to de Masta dat he gonna finish de travelers and return, but he did not keep dat promise. We…assume de wolf-mon…failed, and de Masta sent…us…to—”

 

“Quick, Mori!” Sahtra ordered the young necromancer, “Raise his corpse again so he cannot return to the Mogu!” Without a moment’s delay, Mori dropped the parchment on the ground and elevated her hands as she held them out, diligently but swiftly snatching the Zandalari troll’s soul and reuniting it with its host. After ten or twenty seconds, the undead troll opened its glowing golden eyes once again and stood up mindlessly.

 

“Good work,” Sahtra placed his gloved hand on Mori’s back as she breathed a sigh of relief, “and I commend you for keeping your word, Vel’rosh.” The orc’s pale green jaw dropped despite his attempt at keeping his surprise hidden; the human death knight was not one to give praise lightly, especially to him. “It is obvious that we cannot stay here much longer – it is too dangerous. The Mogu will send reinforcements once he realizes these two will not return to him, either.”

 

Mori let out a silent yawn as her head began tilting to one side. During the questioning of the Zandalari troll’s soul, she had all but forgotten of her fatigue, but it had quickly caught up to her afterwards. Sahtra noticed the subtle movement immediately. “You have been awake for too long, little one,” he whispered, his deep ethereal voice lulling her to sleep, “rest so that we may journey tomorrow.” The young necromancer looked up at the death knight’s helmed face and nodded slowly before picking up the parchment and turtle plush and returning to her room. Mori climbed under the covers of her bed and was immediately silent; Sahtra knew she had fallen quickly and soundly asleep.

 

“Keep watch over her,” he ordered Vel’rosh as he pulled out a map of the Kun-Lai region and spread it open across the table, “I must plan our route to the Mogu’s lair so we can finish him once and for all.”