Click here for the Prologue, Part I, and Part II.

Tharion Greyseer’s eyeless gaze turned to another stone, this one completely unmarked. It was the only unidentified grave in the cluster, but Tharion still recognized it. He placed his palm on the rock and took a deep breath.

He had not whitnessed Thelnin’s death. No one did. Indeed, Eraelan has simply stated that Thelnin failed his First Hunt. Elaia had been distraught at the news, but most of the others were unsurprised.  Thelnin Doran was far from the most skilled of the students. That honor fell upon Elaia Shaillan, his mate.

Tharion began to whisper a few silent words of remembrance, but was quickly interrupted by a faint rustle of unnatural wind through the grove.

“I expected you.” Tharion stated simply, not bothering to look up at the newcomer. His felsight allowed him an awareness of all that was around him in the hollow gray of the world, and he had sensed the disturbance of the shadowy entity’s approach. “This is where you are anchored, is it not?”

The creature was not living, at least at first glance. Nor was it undead by traditional standards. It was something else entirely, a being caught between worlds, fused with obscene energies and clinging to the material world through some unknown force.

The entity, whose body was nothing more than a swirling black cloudiness on this plane, reached a ghostly hand out to lay upon the demon hunter’s forehead in response.

And suddenly, Tharion remembered.

* * *

Thelnin Doran dodged the incoming rake, the demon’s thick claws passing mere inches in front of his face. He ducked a strike from the second demon, too, and rolled away from his twin assailants. He frowned. There was not supposed to be two demons here. Eraelan had told him of only one.

Both of his adversaries were doomguards, both had the leathery wings that gave them a presence much more imposing than they may have had without them. These two, who had revealed their spoken names to be Ghath and Gharn, almost seemed related. But Thelnin was still uncertain if agents of the Burning Legion maintained such blood ties.

It was an odd concept to imagine.

“Come come little hunter!” Ghath, the doomguard who wielded his glaive with his right hand, taunted.

“Come and let us examine what makes you work!” That was Gharn, the left-handed doomguard.

Thelnin was tall for a night elf, but thin. He wore the standard garb for Netherbane’s camp of demon hunters, his tan kilt allowing him to move his legs with little restriction. He wore virtually nothing on his upper torso, for Eraelan forbade such things of his trainees. Even the females were only allowed mere scraps for modesty. Thelnin appeared weaponless as well, and this made the two demons confident in their victory.

“We want to study your insides,” growled Ghath menacingly, hunching lower and spreading his wings.

“We want to make them your outsides,” laughed Gharn, standing straight, becoming taller than his twin.

Thelnin whispered the words of command, and two silver warglaives materialized into his hands. Without warning, he launched himself at Gharn, the closest of the two, ignoring the sensation of fear creeping up his spine.

Had the demon been any other creature, it would have been taken by surprise. However, these two were not inexperienced fighters, and Gharn was ready to parry the flurry of strikes. Ghath, too, was swift to respond to the assault on his brother.

“Good, little—” Ghath began.

“—night elf, good.” Gharn completed.

“Shut up!” Thelnin was not only afraid now, but also frustrated. He should not have to fight these two. Why had Eraelan sent him here? Did he not know that these two were the ones who occupied this part of the Ashenvale? Was his information incorrect? Or was this part of his plan?

Both Ghath and Gharn launched themselves into the air on their wings briefly, and then adjusted their flight paths downward, seeking to overpower the demon hunter trainee from above. The tactic pushed Thelnin back against one of the large trees here, its bark withered and blackened from its close proximity to the demons of this area.

Certainly this must be a mistake! I have to let Eraelan know!

Gharn laughed again. “No mistake, young hunter.”

“No mistake at all. You have been betrayed.” Ghath comfirmed Thelnin’s suspicions.

“But, how—?”

“Your expression—“

“—tells us all!” Gharn cackled and spread his wings. He and his brother, who had done the same, both grew dark and shadowy, their forms becoming indistinct.

They now spoke as one; their singular voice deeper and more threatening that either could muster alone. “You will be our experiment. A gift from your mentor to our master.”

“Who is your master?” Thelnin lowered his combat stance as he watched the shrouded doomguards.

“Lord Xonath. And his apprentice, Lord Sraath.” The two demons both knelt on the grass as the already faint light of Elune vanished from above. “They arrive now.”

Thelnin instinctively rolled to the side as a massive doomguard and even larger dreadlord landed where he had been standing mere seconds ago. Immediately the foliage around the grove withered and the soft soil became dried and cracked.  Looking up at the two huge demons, Thelnin felt the fear creep back down his spine.

He screamed in abject terror as his soul was ripped from his body.

* * *

Tharion snapped out of the vision so harshly he nearly fell backwards, but he caught himself before he lost his orientation. The visions had been experienced from Thelnin’s point of view, and it was layered with more lucidity than anything else Tharion had experienced.

“That is how you died, then, Thelnin Doran—betrayed by Eraelan Netherbane.” Tharion knew better than to ask it as a question. “And your current state, this ‘eater of fear,’ is the result of their experiments on you?”

The shadow figure floated backwards away from the demon hunter slowly, as if accepting his conclusions.

“You are remembered, Thelnin Doran. And you will be given your peace.”

The shadowy figure vanished into the darkness, and Tharion was once again alone.

* * *