The dim lights and shadows outside played through their usual dance in the dead of night. Ever the same, with the moonlight running its slow course. The voidwalker, Kraktast*, stared out the window, unmoving, unnoticed in the dark. There was little else it could do, being summoned and bound to the infernal human replenishing her strength in her comfortable bed.
Kraktast longed to tear her apart for binding it and subjecting it to the humiliation of servitude. But the contract, forged not by agreement but by willpower — which she possessed in excess — would not permit the void creature to touch her. And there were few times when that restriction was stronger than while she was restoring her power.
Still, the voidwalker knew its place. It was a lesser creature of the Void. The “runt,” in human terms. Enslaved by the Burning Legion, whose very existence was devoted to wiping out Kraktast’s kind…and in turn, enslaved by another. But patience was always the answer. Void would consume them all. Sooner or later, it always did.
Basking in that glorious thought, of the all-consuming Void unmaking everything, Kraktast felt stronger. Perhaps…perhaps it could overwhelm the little human. Yes, of course it could. They were fragile creatures, after all. Nothing like the eternal, infinite Void.
Kraktast looked at the sleeping woman, and floated over to her side. She didn’t snore, didn’t talk in her sleep… She barely even made the sound of breathing that all others of her kind made. Not once had she ever spoken since wrenching Kraktast from the Legion’s grip. Not in spellcasting, not in command, ever. But her words — not in language so much as sheer force of will — always came through loud and clear in her thoughts. Bit by bit, the voidwalker had gathered that her silence had something to do with the last thing she had said. The circumstances of it had never become clear — she had never opened up those thoughts to him.
But Kraktast knew a number of rituals from its time with the Burning Legion, painful and destructive ones that could unmake large areas…and one of them just happened to require a human tongue. She obviously wasn’t using hers, so…
The tendrils of the void reached out from the demon towards the woman it hated so deeply. They were scarcely an inch from her lips when her eyes shot open.
The thought dominated Kraktast’s mind, drowning out its other thoughts of…what was it planning to do? That single word, and the pain that went with it, ripped through Kraktast, and it shrieked, shrinking away from the little human. Though her eyes hadn’t changed or glowed, they seemed to burn into the voidwalker, searing like felfire, like the wrath of the pit lords.
Suddenly, Kraktast saw in its mind a human city of towering spires and gleaming light and so much nasty existence. A heartbeat later, the city lay in ruins, a circle of destruction drawn in the sands outside its borders. An eredar loomed over it. Archimonde?
It was gone. The voidwalker was back in the little Stormwind house with the human, her eyes burrowing into it.
I won’t call you a traitor, because I’ve never been so naive as to think of you as loyal, her words came.
“I will serve,” Kraktast said, bowing its head to acquiesce to her superiority…for now.
You can serve me by letting me sleep.
“I can help you sleep…”
Not that kind of sleep. I’m not an idiot, you know.
Brandy Hale pushed some of her red hair away from her face and laid back down on her pillow, quietly drawing a number of wards above herself, then shot a warning look at Kraktast.
What had it been thinking? It had tried before, but there was no way it could overwhelm her force of will. Not in its current state. For now, it would have to put up with the fragile human a while longer.
* I swear that’s his actual name, guys.