Magic Research

Meryl did the math; it had been months since she'd seen Nathanos. She'd wanted to see him when Meryl returned to Shadowfang Keep a few days ago, but had been told that the Witherer had been locking himself in his private chamber within the Shadowfang Keep. The mage knew he didn't want to be disturbed, and that no one would know what he was doing.

The kitchen in Shadowfang Keep, once used for food preparation, has been converted into a recreational area. The Forsaken's entertainment isn't for making money, but for passing the time. Time, for them... is simply too much. The mage could smell the aroma of alcohol seeping from the wood even before he reached the place. He wasn't bothered by it, because the person he was looking for was there.

Meryl's gaze quickly locked onto his target. Ignoring the noisy group, he took a high stool and sat down at the bar. He then said to the person sitting next to him, who was also on a stool, "Spies never seem to rest."

"This is the master's will." Belmont didn't look at Meryl, his orange-yellow eyes fixed on the liquid in his glass. He had already drunk half of it, but the remaining half did not interest him.

"The Witherer tells you to rest; it seems you haven't seen him recently."

"It hasn't been as long as you say." Belmont gave a sneer. "The last time I saw my master was three days ago. I was delivering the latest intelligence on Dragonblight to him, and after reading it... he told me to take a good rest recently."

"So it was that intelligence document that alienated him from his people? What did the intelligence say?"

"Sorry, Meryl." Belmont glared at him. "My master ordered me not to disclose the contents of the information."

"You're really loyal," Meryl smiled. "But don't get me wrong, I'm just a little worried about him."

"If you were worried about your master, you shouldn't have exposed him to those terrible dangers." The Shadowblade leader's voice remained calm, yet carried a warning tone. Meryl frowned, not because of Belmont's tone, but because of the truth he stated. The mage's expression grew grave. So many years had passed; what was the Witherer's condition now?

"I heard you were hiding within the Alliance for a while, so why did you come back?" Belmont asked.

"Nathanos still needs my help and advice in many areas, and he has arranged for a more suitable person to take over my work."

"Talbert!" Belmont withdrew his gaze again. "The Forsaken went to great lengths to establish this identity within the upper echelons of the Alliance."

Meryl nodded in agreement, but both he and Belmont knew that the Witherer never made a losing deal.

Taresa Foxton had dinner ready and was waiting for her "husband" to come home. She had only been married a few days earlier, but it wasn't a real marriage; it was just a way to better conceal her true identity.

After a while, her "husband" returned. The two smiled at each other, exchanged a few simple, intimate greetings, and then sat down together at the dining table. They ate all their food in silence and then returned to the bedroom. This was a fixed routine, something Taresa did every night.

As the beautiful blonde changed into her pajamas, her husband was already sitting in front of the vanity mirror, waiting for her to remove her makeup.

"What's going on today?" Taresa asked, stroking Talbert's jawbone from behind with both hands, checking that his face seemed to have a flaw.

"Benedictus is gone," Talbert said, his voice now uttered as a young girl's, unlike the accent of the middle-aged man he spoke during the day.

Taresa examined Talbert's cheeks and wrinkles closely in the mirror again, then asked, "You've already said that, is there anything else?"

"The Ranger-General of the Silver Covenant and Lady Jaina warned Varian of the Cataclysm, but the Ghost Wolf's attention was currently focused on the struggle with the Horde."

"Alright." Taresa removed her hand from Talbert's face. "This mask can be used for another three days. I will give you a new mask after three days."

"The thought of having to face Varian every day in this body makes me hate myself. When will I finally be able to plunge a dagger into his neck?" The girl beneath Talbert's exterior whistled out these vicious words.

The woman behind him reached into the pocket of his coat and pressed a hidden mechanism. Instantly, Talbert's upper body shrank considerably, and his clothes bulged out, completely transforming him back into the figure of a young girl. This was Goblins product; it worked very well.

"The Witherer never breaks his promise, my child," Taresa told her. "Don't forget who saved you, who gave you a life of luxury, who gave you your skills, and of course, a large sum of money, enough for you to regroup your father's former followers and avenge him."

"I haven't forgotten, but I need my master's approval. Why does my master still think the time is not yet right? Does he not believe in my abilities?"

A smile played on Taresa's lips. "Don't doubt yourself, my dear 'husband,' you will surely taste the joy of revenge."

This formula, and this rune, seem wrong!

Nathanos made another change; the area around his desk in the secret chamber was littered with crumpled papers he had discarded. His bow and sword hung on the wall, silently awaiting the day their master would use them again. Nathanos hadn't touched his weapons for many days; his hands no longer supported his ability to draw the bow and wield the sword, and many of the Forsaken were unaware of their master's condition. He didn't want to appear before them in this state, and Nathanos planned a change.

Before him lay piles of ancient texts about magical arrays, as well as the Medivh's Book. After his revenge against the Lich King, Nathanos began to frequently absorb the knowledge of the Guardians and started trying to understand and learn magic. Memorizing spells was child's play for him, but how to make a spell achieve a greater effect was his challenge.

"Powerful energy is often difficult to control unless there's a suitable place to channel my magic." The Witherer's eyes were fixed on the report about Dragonblight, which bore a terrifying name— Chromatus. Nathanos wasn't concerned with the Chromatic Dragon; it was destined for destruction. But one thing had already left an indelible impression on the Witherer's mind. He looked thoughtfully at his left hand, now just bones, while his right hand held a quill inscribed with several words translated from the Medivh's Book: immense energy, runic spells, the bloodline of a spellcaster.