The young guard pushes open the black steel doors. As their creak reverberates through the throne room, he inches forward onto the violet runner, gazing down its long distance to the wide-set stairs on either side of the Dark Lady’s landing. He knows she sits atop the Void Throne, but from where he stands, he can only see shadows cast across the chamber from the multiple light fixtures that line the blackened walls. They illuminate an iridescent purple glow, creating the illusion of an amethyst fog rolling through the room.
His breath quickens as he approaches closer. He has not been in the throne room often, but the few times he has always causes a feeling of impending doom deep within his heart. Whether it’s from the emptiness of the Gothic vaulted ceilings, or the haunting tension that hangs in the air, he does not know. The only awareness he senses is the uncertainty of how the Dark Lady will react to his presence.
He stops below the landing, unsure of how to proceed.
“My Lady.” His voice echoes infinitely around the room. “My Lady?” he repeats, after a few moments of no response.
His body tenses beneath his heavy armor.
The Dark Lady remains motionless on her throne. From where he stands, he sees her bodyguard, Vin’jork, towering at her side.
The metal throne’s back rises high into the air, with each side tapering into an ornate swirl. Its arms jut forward, with decorative carvings of grasping claws wrapping around dazzling onyx crystals that root into the base of the throne.
“What is your name?” the Dark Lady finally says.
The bird skull adorning her head glares down at the young guard.
“James Parlington, my Lady. But…I go by Flagg.”
“Flagg. You are a new trainee?”
“Yes, my Lady.”
“And yet you’re here talking to me?”
“I—”
She holds up her hand. “I don’t want an excuse.”
“Of course, my Lady.”
“Tell me why you’re here.”
“There is a Visidium that wishes to speak with you. He was rather persistent that I let you know. I told him you probably wouldn’t—”
“I said no excuses.”
“Right…sor-sorry.”
“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter now, does it? Whether or not I want to talk to the elemental, I have no choice.”
“What?” Flagg says.
“Your Visidium is already here. Isn’t that right, Naxxorius?”
“Ah, how did you know?” Naxxorius’ melodic tone rings out across the room.
Flagg feels the air stir next to him as the Visidium morphs into form.
“What other elemental would be foolish enough to enter the Void Keep?” The Dark Lady stands from her throne to glide over to the edge of her landing, and rests her hands against the silver balcony rail. “Although, I suppose any of you meaningless vapors could have tricked this guard to get you in here.”
“Now, now. Don’t blame poor Sir Parlington. He’s merely doing his job, ah?” Naxxorius places his hand on Flagg’s shoulder. “He’s still learning.”
“What do you want, plunderer?” the Dark Lady hisses. “I don’t have time for your nonsense.”
“No, you certainly don’t, do you? I heard about your recent troubles. Valkryn Salharia defeated by a couple amateur Formulists? And the death of Blaine Fortrunner? Tsk, tsk. Things are certainly not looking good for the Voidweavers at the moment.”
Vin’jork steps forward, hand on his sword’s sheath.
“No need for violence, ah?” Naxxorius reaches into his cloak. “I came to make a proposition.” He throws a cell phone at Vin’jork.
“What is this?” the Dark Lady says, as Vin’jork hands her the phone.
She takes the device in her gloved hand.
“That is Genevieve DeWinter’s cell phone,” Naxxorius replies. “I took it from her while she was in the Voidlands.”
The Dark Lady rubs her fingers over the screen.
“I wanted you to see for yourself that I have made contact with the girl. I know she is important to you. And of course, I would be willing to obtain her.”
“And your price?”
“Given that two of your commanders have already been bested by the girl, I must warn that my request is substantial.”
The Dark Lady hands the phone back to Vin’jork.
“Axraxus needs to be returned to the Visidium. There is no reason for the Voidweavers to control the city, you know that. The Wastelands hold no value to your cause.”
“I see,” the Dark Lady says. “And is this your own suggestion? Or have you discussed it with the other elementals?”
“My own doing. They are not involved.”
“Of course they aren’t. I’m sure somewhere in those manipulative shadows of yours, this plan will only aid you in whatever ploy you’re trying to pull off.”
“There is no duplicity here. Except for the actions you’ve committed, Dark Lady.”
“Careful, plunderer. Don’t forget where you’re standing.”
“And don’t forget where you’re sitting.”
The Dark Lady tightens her grasp on the balcony.
“How long have we known each other?” Naxxorius glides over to the stairs and ascends towards the landing.
Vin’jork goes to draw his sword once more, but the Dark Lady signals him to stand down.
“Ten years? Fifteen? Twenty? Time just seems to fall away eventually.” Naxxorius reaches the top of the stairs, floating inches from the Dark Lady. “Must I remind you that you are here because of me, Dark Lady?” He motions to the skull atop her head. “You owe me.”
The Dark Lady’s lips are taut against her pale skin.
“You bring me Genevieve DeWinter, and Axraxus is yours.” She places her hand against Naxxorius’s silver cloak. “But know that if I see you again before you have the girl, I will kill you. And then I will kill every other repulsive elemental that wanders this forsaken land.”
The echo of the steel doors slices through the tension as several guards erupt into the throne room.
“Voidress!” One of the guards pants as he bounds towards the throne. “My Lady, we are being attacked.”
The Dark Lady and Naxxorius turn toward the guards.
“Outside! At the Cathedral.”
Naxxorius snickers. “Well, this certainly isn’t going the way you planned, ah?” He disappears before she can respond.
“Shall I go?” Vin’jork says.
The Dark Lady shakes her head and descends the stairs.
“The recent incompetency is just baffling to me. I’ll deal with this myself.”
Flagg Parlington breathes a sigh of relief as the Dark Lady exits the throne room, knowing that at any moment he could have been the next target of her wrath.