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"Tell me, Zhar'thyk. What drives your kind? To destroy, to consume all that is?" Gadion sat in one chair of many in the sitting room of his tower in Silvermoon, the fire raging on one end of the room. Light streamed in through the windows, and the winds of Eversong's endless spring kept a comforting breeze moving through the room. A glass of wine sat in his hand, mostly untouched. Dawnflare Reserve was, admittedly, one of the greatest wines to come out of Quel'Thalas in decades, but seeing that name attached to it always left a bitter taste in his mouth.

However, these brief ponderings on his old rival were cut short by the otherworldly rasp of Zhar'thyk's voice. "Such is our way. It is the nature of the void to consume. Do you not have such drive?" Though the voidlord's face did not move, there seemed to be something resembling curiosity. Perhaps it was simply Gadion's imagination.

Blinking in confusion, Gadion studied Zhar'thyk for a moment. He had never expected a question in response. Under normal circumstances, he would have begun taking notes, amazed that a voidlord had posed any questions at all. But the nature of the question instead sent Gadion back into deep thought, and he gazed into the wineglass with an intensity that would have unnerved any who saw it.

Did he have any such drive? The city was rebuilding, and yet here he was, an old magister in an era where the magisters had no purpose. His studies were beginning to be looked down on by the rest of the Horde, and he had no family to live for in Quel'Thalas. Though he kept the portrait of his beloved Tynerea from an age long past over the hearth, he knew in his heart he had accepted her passing. He could not live for her, and in that respect at least, he had to accept that Dawnflare was his better.

He could not live to be a father for his children. He could still see the two of them, so bright and full of life all those years ago. He had been so proud of Eriden when he had been accepted into the ranks of the Spellbreakers, and when Asana had joined the Farstriders, he had worked his hardest to create the perfect dagger to keep her safe. But with the Scourge came change, and in what seemed like the briefest of moments both of his children, his everything in the world, had been torn away from him. Eriden had joined his mother, and the Light only knew where his little girl had ended up. He wished he could live for them, but the events of the world had deigned that it was not to be.

What, then, did Gadion live for? With this question in mind, he stood, snapping his fingers. "Zhar'thyk. Come, we are going to the laboratory." He took the stairs slowly but with a purpose he had not felt in many years. He could hear Zhar'thyk's form trailing down the stairs behind him, the faint hissing of his presence a clear indicator.

That strange near-whisper of a voice spoke once more, this time more confident. Gadion sensed the faintest iota of confusion in the voice as well. It was so unlike Gadion to simply ignore something, after all. "Have you forgotten my question, master?"

Gadion opened the door to his laboratory and entered. Fel energies filled the air, the familiar green crystals that filled the city of Silvermoon floated in the corners of the room. Varying texts on the nature of the Twisting Nether sat around the room, and several circles of runes decorated the floor. "No, Zhar'thyk," Gadion replied, his voice surprisingly confident. "I simply don't have the answer yet. But perhaps I will find it here."

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

"Tell me, Zhar'thyk. What drives your kind? To destroy, to consume all that is?" Gadion sat in one chair of many in the sitting room of his tower in Silvermoon, the fire raging on one end of the room. Light streamed in through the windows, and the winds of Eversong's endless spring kept a comforting breeze moving through the room. A glass of wine sat in his hand, mostly untouched. Dawnflare Reserve was, admittedly, one of the greatest wines to come out of Quel'Thalas in decades, but seeing that name attached to it always left a bitter taste in his mouth.

However, these brief ponderings on his old rival were cut short by the otherworldly rasp of Zhar'thyk's voice. "Such is our way. It is the nature of the void to consume. Do you not have such drive?" Though the voidlord's face did not move, there seemed to be something resembling curiosity. Perhaps it was simply Gadion's imagination.

Blinking in confusion, Gadion studied Zhar'thyk for a moment. He had never expected a question in response. Under normal circumstances, he would have begun taking notes, amazed that a voidlord had posed any questions at all. But the nature of the question instead sent Gadion back into deep thought, and he gazed into the wineglass with an intensity that would have unnerved any who saw it.

Did he have any such drive? The city was rebuilding, and yet here he was, an old magister in an era where the magisters had no purpose. His studies were beginning to be looked down on by the rest of the Horde, and he had no family to live for in Quel'Thalas. Though he kept the portrait of his beloved Tynerea from an age long past over the hearth, he knew in his heart he had accepted her passing. He could not live for her, and in that respect at least, he had to accept that Dawnflare was his better.

He could not live to be a father for his children. He could still see the two of them, so bright and full of life all those years ago. He had been so proud of Eriden when he had been accepted into the ranks of the Spellbreakers, and when Asana had joined the Farstriders, he had worked his hardest to create the perfect dagger to keep her safe. But with the Scourge came change, and in what seemed like the briefest of moments both of his children, his everything in the world, had been torn away from him. Eriden had joined his mother, and the Light only knew where his little girl had ended up. He wished he could live for them, but the events of the world had deigned that it was not to be.

What, then, did Gadion live for? With this question in mind, he stood, snapping his fingers. "Zhar'thyk. Come, we are going to the laboratory." He took the stairs slowly but with a purpose he had not felt in many years. He could hear Zhar'thyk's form trailing down the stairs behind him, the faint hissing of his presence a clear indicator.

That strange near-whisper of a voice spoke once more, this time more confident. Gadion sensed the faintest iota of confusion in the voice as well. It was so unlike Gadion to simply ignore something, after all. "Have you forgotten my question, master?"

Gadion opened the door to his laboratory and entered. Fel energies filled the air, the familiar green crystals that filled the city of Silvermoon floated in the corners of the room. Varying texts on the nature of the Twisting Nether sat around the room, and several circles of runes decorated the floor. "No, Zhar'thyk," Gadion replied, his voice surprisingly confident. "I simply don't have the answer yet. But perhaps I will find it here."