Stormwind City.
Inside Katrana's mansion, in the study, candlelight flickered, casting two silhouettes onto the heavy tapestry.
Katrana lounged lazily on a chaise, idly twirling a strand of her jet-black hair between her fingers as she cast a casual glance toward the shadowed corner of the room.
The darkness there was unnaturally dense.
Then, a figure stepped out from within it.
First came a pair of eyes burning with ghostly green fire, then a body clad in pitch-black armor, and finally a face so pale it seemed almost rotten.
A Death Knight.
He strode out of the shadows, the aura of decay and death coiling around him. The green flames in his hand flickered endlessly, as if reflecting the scene inside Heleni's room.
"They've already tracked me down."
His voice echoed like something dredged up from the depths of a grave—hoarse, cold, and laced with a chilling dread.
"Black Dragon, when will you finally complete the plan we agreed upon?!"
Katrana's expression changed instantly.
The lazy smile on her face froze, then was replaced by a layer of icy menace. She slowly straightened up, violet eyes brimming with suffocating pressure.
The air in the study seemed to solidify in an instant. In the corner, a maid's legs gave out, and she collapsed to her knees with a thud, trembling violently like a leaf in a storm, her forehead pressed to the ground, not daring to lift it in the slightest.
Katrana's voice was cold as frost: "Mind your words, you insignificant worm."
She rose to her feet and walked step by step toward the Death Knight. With each step, the invisible pressure grew heavier.
"If not for my father's favor, you filthy, ugly green-skinned mongrels wouldn't be able to accomplish anything at all."
The green flames in Teron Gorefiend's eyes flared violently.
Rage churned in his chest like molten lava. He—Teron Gorefiend, one of the most feared figures in the Horde—was being so contemptuously humiliated by this female dragon.
But he held it in.
Those ghostfire-lit eyes stared fixedly at Katrana, a trace of barely perceptible hatred flashing within them.
One day.
One day, he would make this Black Dragon kneel—just as the Red Dragon Queen, Alexstrasza, had once been enslaved by the Dragonmaw Clan—forcing the Black Dragonflight to become mounts and weapons for the Horde's conquests.
But for now, he still needed her.
Teron lowered his head, his voice hoarse but restrained: "Honorable Lady Katrana, may I ask how much longer it will be before we can begin the operation according to plan?"
Katrana snorted softly, the oppressive aura easing slightly.
"What's the rush?"
She turned and walked back to the chaise, reclining once more as though nothing had happened.
"I'll be returning to Lordaeron the day after tomorrow. Before I leave, I'll make sure it's done for you."
Teron lifted his head, gratitude appearing on his face.
"Thank you, Lady Katrana. The Horde will not forget the favor of the Black Dragonflight."
Katrana shot him a proud glance, her gaze arrogant, as though looking down upon ants in the dust.
"One more thing."
Her voice suddenly turned cold again.
"You can do whatever you want in Stormwind… but Allen Prestor is mine. You are not to let him die."
She paused, the corner of her lips curling into a dangerous smile.
"Otherwise…"
In that instant, Teron saw it—
Behind Katrana, shadows seemed to churn and swell, coalescing into the outline of a massive dragon.
He lowered his head and said nothing more.
...
Stormwind Keep.
Late at night.
Rows of candles flickered in the council chamber as the night wind slipped through. Varian leaned over a long table piled high with documents, brows tightly furrowed, his quill scratching endlessly across parchment.
A squad of guards stood rigidly at both sides of the hall entrance. Several SI:7 agents lurked in the shadows, their eyes vigilantly scanning every possible entry point.
Varian set down his quill and rubbed his aching temples.
After following Allen out on that journey, he had come to realize something—
Stormwind City was not as prosperous and thriving as it appeared on the surface.
Back when he was confined to the throne, everything he saw had been full of vitality and prosperity.
The reports presented by the nobles always spoke of "stable governance" and "peaceful livelihoods."
But traveling with Allen, venturing out into the world, he had finally glimpsed the truth.
All of it… had only been what those nobles wanted him to see.
Even Goldshire, right beneath Stormwind, was constantly harassed and threatened by kobolds, gnolls, and murlocs. Recently, a group of Red Bandits had even begun to emerge.
And further out, in places like Darkshire, danger lurked everywhere—people could barely survive.
Over these past days, along the journey, he had also heard Allen speak at length about governance.
That seemingly carefree man would occasionally offer insights that left him genuinely enlightened.
So after returning to Stormwind, Varian buried himself day and night in state affairs, determined to govern diligently.
He wanted to become a king Allen Prestor would truly admire from the bottom of his heart—a king who could bring happiness to his people.
Just then, Mathias Shaw appeared at the entrance of the chamber. He strode forward quickly and bowed.
"Your Majesty, Lady Katrana requests an urgent audience."
Without looking up, Varian continued flipping through the documents in his hands.
"What does she want with me?"
"Lady Katrana says she has urgent matters and will soon return to Lordaeron. Before leaving, she wishes to see if there is a chance to dine with you tomorrow at noon."
Varian frowned slightly.
"But Allen hasn't returned yet. Another time. There will be plenty of opportunities in the future."
That day, Allen had repeatedly emphasized to Varian that the reason they had encountered that situation before was because Allen suspected something was off about his sister and had merely been testing her.
He had warned Varian again and again—never to be alone with her.
But also not to alert her prematurely. Allen said he would personally probe further.
Varian trusted Allen's instincts. During the hunt for Stalvan, his intuition had always been accurate.
"But…" Mathias hesitated slightly. "Lady Katrana says she has urgent matters to report. Even if the luncheon tomorrow is not possible, she hopes to meet you tonight."
Without turning his head, Varian replied: "No. If it's truly urgent, have her brother come tell me."
"Sigh—"
A soft sigh.
Varian's pen froze.
That sigh was gentle, almost resentful—it was not Mathias's voice.
"Why be so difficult, little king?"
The voice continued.
"Can't you just cooperate with me?"
Varian suddenly looked up.
He saw Mathias's figure begin to distort and blur.
His face rippled like a reflection in water, and then—
A seductive figure emerged from within it.
Katrana Prestor stood there, her violet dress trailing across the floor, a bewitching smile on her lips.
"Where is Shaw?" Varian's voice tightened instantly.
His hand had already gripped the hilt of his sword as he shouted: "Guards!!!"
But the guards stood there like statues—completely motionless.
Katrana let out a soft laugh.
Dark light flickered at her fingertips, spreading slowly toward Varian like a living thing.
Varian tried to draw his sword, but his arm felt as heavy as lead.
He tried to shout, but his throat seemed to be strangled by an invisible hand.
His body was slowly pressed back into the chair.
"Don't struggle, little king."
Katrana walked up to him.
"Just go to sleep."
"When you wake up…"
She paused, her smile growing even more enchanting.
"…everything will be different."
---
I will post some extra Chapters in Patreon, you can check it out. >> patreon.com/TitoVillar
---