Septen fell to his knees in the sands, his Shadow screeching before slipping away. Roanas looked down at him... It killed him to see his blood brother in such a state, seeming a step away from becoming on of the Wretched.

The Priest was thin, painfully so... As if he hadn't had any sustenance in weeks or even months. It was so alien for Roan to see him like this, someone who he remembered as always being so devout to the Light, always strong in body and mind.

His brother that he'd fought beside in Quel'Danas at the Sunwell. His brother who had renewed his faith in the Light.

"Do it, Roan... End me... Please..."

Septen's voice would be weak over the howling winds of the sandstorm around them. The Ranger would raise the barrel of his gun towards the Priest. His usual steady hand shook almost uncontrollably... This was the hardest thing he'd ever been forced to do.

"... I love you, Septen..." Roan would whisper before pulling the trigger, sending a single bullet into the back of the Priest's head.

I have burned my tomorrow, and I stand inside today. At the edge of the future, and my dreams all fade away.

The tranquility of Nagrand had always captivated him. Soothed him. Put him at peace. And now wasn't any different.

Two elves sat on one of the floating rock landmasses that loomed over the lush landscape, One scarlet haired, the other pale blonde. A blue Drake slept behind them on the other side of the tree, his side rising and falling steadily as he laid on his side.

The scarlet haired one had a blindfold over his eyes, and his head rested back against the tree behind them. The blonde had her head on his lap, curled up against him as close as she could get. He had his hand on her head, his pale fingers gently running through her hair.

Judging by the amount of time that had passed, he assumed it would be sunrise right about now. In the time they had spent here since the Shattering of Azeroth, they had used it to heal both his body and their relationship.

She regretted what she'd done.. Not only to them and what they had, but what she had inadvertently done to him... The fact that her action had spurred on what overcame him, a darkness and power of which her understanding only scratched the surface of.

But he forgave her, for everything. In his love and genuine care for her and everything about her, he could never for a moment bring himself to hate her, for anything. A misguided message from the stars is what caused the rift between them... She had only done what she believed at that moment to be right for them. Her intent was never malicious towards him. The fact that she had regretted it, and worried so much about him told him this.

But... That was the past now. It was behind them, just another chapter in the story of his life. What mattered to him was what they had once again.

He knew it would be quite some time before his power and body both healed to the point they had been before. He could use his power of the Light as well as ever, but naturally, given what had happened, he was hesitant to touch his power over the Shadow.

Even though Kiah had brought him back and healed him as best she could... The manner of his death had left him with occasional headaches and blindness. But... Both would heal themselves in time, he knew.

His mind turned to what had become of his family... Or, what was left of it. Celarya was... Celarya. She checked in from time to time but always moved on to either her own lover and his house, or other things she deemed important. Rhyles, however.. Hadn't been heard of since the Shattering.

He knew Kiahnni had her own worries, between caring for Genki and the Ala De'Curas and Roan, and attempting to balance it with her position as the leader of The Bloodwolf Company.

One of his hands would move along Draza's arm gingerly and to her hand, linking their fingers together and feeling the smooth metal of the ring she wore. A slight smile crept across his lips as he felt it. It had been his mothers, and remembered how it looked all too well.

It was gold, and was crafted to look like two dragons entwined around a garnet with their tails as the band. It was one of the few things he had left from her... And now, it was his token of engagement to Draza. Somehow.. He knew, she would be proud.

Soon.. He would return to Azeroth. His body was strong again, and the time would soon come for him to mend burned bridges and renew bonds of family, and the even stronger bond of blood.

But for the moment... -This- moment... He was content right where he was, with the only woman to capture his heart in his arms.

And burn my shadow away... And burn my shadow away... Oh, how I loved you.

Casting a cool breeze supplied by the autumn, question where it went wrong...

The robed figure slipped through the darkened woods of Eversong... The firsts rays of dawn just starting to reach the floor of the white barked trees, roots twisting together among the leaves on the ground.. The scent of the eternal autumn that blessed the land lingering as always in the air.

He didn't make a sound in his passing.. Knowing the path that his feet tread well. He'd made this trip more then once. The shadows around him seemed darker, and to shift on their own accord.. The ground in his wake withered slowly, some of the leaves even seeming to turn to ash.

Autumn indicates the death of beauty as we know...

The gaunt, pale face under the dark cowl lifted slightly as the small camp came into view... Seemingly abandoned, but.. He knew otherwise. It was simple... A small fire pit, a table with room for one, and finally, an aged, weathered Vardo.. Once painted in vibrant colors, now faded to the elements.

He would stop a moment, staring at the vardo. Slowly, he would let his cowl fall. Limp, unwashed raven locks would spill free about him as he walked towards the door to the dwelling, his pitch black eyes locked into it. Judgeing by the bags under them.. He'd gone quite an amount of time without sleep.

His deathly pale, bony hand would reach out and grasp the door, opening it with utter silence as he glanced within. She was there... Just as he'd expected. Pale blonde locks about her, sunkissed tan skin of someone who lived in the sun.

Draza.

Septen would slip within the vardo in the same utter silence that had seemed to follow every move he made, the door clicking shut behind him. He would move towards her sleeping form.. She shifted slightly, uttering in her sleep. The Priest would pause, watching. She only stirred... She didn't wake.

From within his velvet robes which were coated in fine dust that was likely from the sands of Silithus, he would pull a small package... Wrapped in fine Ebonweave, bound with silken ribbon. He would leave it beside her.. She would likely shift in her rest, and wrap her arms around it at some point.. He knew her well enough to know that was likely how she would find it when she awoke.

He'd watch her a moment longer, before leaning down, the shadows around his hand falling away as it brushed a lock of her hair from her forehead before his lips brushed it gently, a tender reminder to him of what they once had -- and would have again... One day.

Just as slow and silent as he'd arrived, Septen would depart again. His moment of clarity wouldn't last long, and he knew it. He didn't want to be anywhere near her when It took over again.

As he left the camp, he would pull his cowl back up, his wrists flicking slightly with the motion. As he slipped away down the path, the sun would rise over the horizon, lengthening the shadows of the trees around him. The camp had remained as undisturbed as it had been before his passing in the light of the new day that was now cast upon it.

Autumn swiftly stole the breath of body, mind, and soul...

"She never loved you... She only used you, played you..."

"You are alone... All alone, they don't care about you..."

"Come to us... Return... Return..."

The voices in Septen's head never had stopped... He just stopped listening. Ignore something long enough, and it'll just go away... Untill you let them in again.

For a week he'd been barricaded into his Study. His usually orderly space with various tomes about everything from Enchanting and Tailoring to necromancy lay scattered about the room.. In some cases, pages ripped and bent.. Even torn out all together. Every mirrored surface in the room had been shattered.. Blood and glass littered the room as well.

The Priest's mental state had clearly deteriorated much farther then anyone else in the Sunstriker Manor would know.. Other then Celarya. Septen's outbursts of shouting words in an unknown tongue that made one's skin crawl at the mere sound of the guttural syllables had frightened away the Caretaker of the House, Deyndissa.. Who Cel had had escorted back to the Ala De'Cura manor.

"Damn her stars, and her prophecies... This was only a shroud to get rid of you..."

With a shout, Septen would rip a page from a tome before him that he had been scribbling on. Runes and twisted depictions covered the pages... Words in runes that no same mortal had dared to scribe in only the Old Ones knew how long.

To one who watched him, that knew him... He was nearly unrecognizable. His fiery locks, usually well kept and clean, were unwashed and hung limp about his form... Raven black at the roots, seeming as if one had poured a bottle of dye over it, simply letting it run down.

His form was gaunt and sickly... Seeing has he hadn't eaten since he'd returned home that day a week before. His clothes hung on his form as if draped over a much thinner frame, only the lower half of his torn robes remaining.

The tribal tattoos that graced his upper body now seemed to shift and move on their own accord, slinking across his skin like a taint... This, of course... Was not the case, the shifting truly a shadow upon his skin.. Now and then, a hiss would come from it, or a red slanted set of eyes would peer out. Not a shadow... no. A taint... A sentient being that was attached to him since birth.

The corruption that he fought so hard to keep at bay. The corruption that gave him his duality as a Grey... Both a blessing and a curse, depending on how he chose to use it. While it was entirely bent to his will, and would do anything he asked of it... If left unchecked, it's true twisted nature would come out.

The corruption, it seemed, was also touching his eyes... The teal green glow having dimmed away, giving way to a pitch black that was now creeping from the outside in.

"Why? Why did she abandon me? Without her, I'm nothing... I'm nothing..." His voice was hoarse and dry as he spoke, barely above a whisper.

"Why? Because she could. It was her game. And, Septen... You're wrong. Without her... You're stronger... You've become One with Us again..."

"... So it is. And so it shall be.. So -we- shall be..."

"Yes.... Yessss.... Come back to us, Septen... Come back..."

Shadows danced on the walls... Some laughing, some mocking, others beckoning. As said this, the shadows seemed to become more active.. As if excited by the sound of his voice saying this.

He could feel it... The blood he saw running down the walls as he once again embraced Them. The Shadows. His only comfort, his only kin. He would grasp another crumbled sheet of parchment and halfheartedly smooth it out on the desk swiftly before grasping his quill again, and a vial of blood red ink. Weather this was truly what it appeared to be, or simply dyed to be so was anyone's guess.

Swiftly, precisely... He would start to draw the runes. His eyes were unfocused yet his hand was steady as he whisper their names as each was completed in a intricate pattern that only made sense in his own mind.

His shadow would make sound at this -- a terrible, ear splitting sound that would strike fear to any who heard it that didn't fully understand it's existence and what it was.

"Yes.... YESSS! Release us, Septen! Release us!"

The shadow would slink across his skin fully. His hair and eyes would fully both become pitch as his last grip on what kept his taint at bay gave way with the runes that he both wrote and spoke.

At that moment... The Septen that everyone around him knew was gone. No longer within his shell was Septen Adia Sunstriker.

Instead... Something different. Something that had been fighting to release itself since birth.

The Change was done.