Trying to shake off such concerns, the night elf distastefully inspected the bed. He was as dedicated to the work as they all were, but as one of the Highborne he was used to far better accommodations. He longed for his villa and his mate, neither of whom he had seen in days. Mannoroth had permitted no one to leave the palace, and in that, he and Archimonde were in full agreement. Therefore, the sorcerers had to sleep wherever they could-in this case, chambers once used by the officers of the guard. Captain Varo'then had willingly offered them up to the spellcasters, but Peroth'arn could have sworn that the scarred soldier had done so with a slight wry smile. Varo'then and his underlings were used to a more spartan existence and Peroth'arn suspected that they enjoyed the discomfort the sorcerers now had to endure for the sake of the cause.

But all would be worth it when the lord of the Legion made his entrance. The world would be expunged of the unclean, the undeserving. Only the Highborne, the most perfect of Azshara's subjects, would survive. Peroth'arn and others like him would populate a fresh, remade land, creating a paradise as none had ever before dreamed.

There would be much work after, of course. As had been explained to them by the queen, the Burning Legion had to raze what already existed out of necessity. The world would have to begin from scratch. Much would be expected from the Highborne, but boundless were the rewards their efforts would reap.

With a martyr's sigh, Peroth'arn sat down on the hard bed. Once paradise was created, a softer, more lush place to sleep would be among his first requests.

He had barely put his head to the gray lump that acted as his pillow when a voice whispered in his ear.

"So much sacrifice…so much hardship undeserved…"

Peroth'arn bolted to a sitting position. Again he peered around the chamber, but saw nothing save the horribly-unadorned walls and meager, undecorated furniture.

"Forced to take such squalor…you are to be admired, dear Peroth'arn…"

A sharp intake of breath was the Highborne's only response as a piece of shadow detached itself from a corner. Onyx eyes with streaks of ruby coursing across them fixed upon the startled sorcerer.

"Xavius…"

The satyr's hooves clattered ever so slightly as he moved closer to Peroth'arn. "I lived that name once," he murmured. "It doesn't mean as much to me as it did then."

"What are you doing here?"

Xavius chuckled, a sound much like the bleat of the creature he resembled. "I know your ambition, Peroth'arn. I know your dreams and how hard you've struggled for them."

Despite his distrust of the horned figure, the night elf felt a sense of appreciation. No one else seemed to understand all that he contributed. Not even the queen or Archimonde.

"I pushed you hard, you know, because I expected much from you, my friend."

Peroth'arn had not known and hearing it now from his former master made his chest swell with pride. Lord Xavius had been the bar by which the other Highborne had measured their skills. He had been the unparalleled master of his craft. Who else would willingly forfeit their own eyes to better understand the powers that they wielded? There was no sacrifice asked of the others that the advisor himself had not first suffered.

"I…I am honored."

Tilting his head, the horned satyr grinned. For some reason, Peroth'arn did not find that grin as frightening as he had earlier.

"No…'tis I who am honored, good Peroth'arn…and I come now in the hope that I may be honored even more."

"I don't understand, my-I don't understand."

"A little wine?" The hooved figure produced a flask from the air and offered it to the night elf. Peroth'arn opened the flask and sniffed. The heady bouquet thrilled his senses. Surely this was rainbow flower wine, his personal favorite.

Xavius leaned near. "From her own cellar…" he said, leering. "But we can keep that secret between us, eh?"

The thought of so bold a transgression against Azshara initially stunned the sorcerer, but then thrilled him. Xavius had performed this act of betrayal against the queen just for Peroth'arn's sake. Azshara had executed loyal subjects for far less.

"Captain Varo'then would be aghast," Peroth'arn suggested.

"He is not one of us…and therefore not a concern."

"True." To the rest of the Highborne, the captain and his soldiers were a necessary evil. They were servants of the queen, to be certain, but they lacked the noble blood and flamboyant airs of the others. Most of the Highborne considered them no better than those who had once lived beyond the walls of the palace, but never let such notions show in their expressions. Captain Varo'then had ways of quietly dealing with those who showed him contempt.

"Drink," Xavius urged, pushing the flask up.

With the mouth of the bottle already near his lips, Peroth'arn saw no reason to hesitate anymore. He let the gentle liquid flow over his tongue and down his throat. His entire body tingled as he swallowed the rare vintage.

"A long-overdue reward," Xavius said. "One of many."

"Delicious."

His hooved companion nodded. The more he sat with the satyr, the less Peroth'arn feared Xavius. The former advisor gave him the respect he so richly deserved. That was truly an honor for the night elf, for was not Xavius now a much respected servant of the great Sargeras? Was he not now more to the lord of the Legion than all the Highborne combined?

"He watches you, too," the satyr commented quietly, as if passing a secret to a trusted comrade.

" ‘He'? You mean-"

"All are under his wise gaze, even from so far away." A tapering finger thrust at the sorcerer. "But some are observed more than others…in the hopes that they may be groomed for further greatness."

Peroth'arn was speechless. Sargeras had marked him so? He quickly downed another huge gulp of wine, his eyes wide and calculating. How the others would have envied him.

"To his enemies, Sargeras is death incarnate, but to those who serve him well, he is benevolence unbridled." Xavius guided the flask to Peroth'arn's lips again. "He took me from beyond. He drew me back and granted me not only life again, but a special place at his side."

Stretching to his full length, the satyr displayed his form for Peroth'arn. Seeing it now as a precious gift of the great god, the night elf admired it. In truth, Xavius was now much more than he had been in his previous life. His features were broader, more imposing. Xavius looked stronger, more agile despite the hooves. It was also evident that he had an even greater mastery of the arts. Peroth'arn could sense the power radiating from his former master and suddenly felt pangs of jealousy. This was power such as he, too, deserved.

Perhaps the wine had made Peroth'arn not so cautious in guarding his emotions, for suddenly Xavius pulled away from him as if struck. The satyr nearly melted back into the shadows. Peroth'arn clutched the flask tightly, fearing that he had offended one blessed by the god.

But as quickly as he had retreated, Xavius returned to him. The satyr loomed over the seated night elf, staring deep into Peroth'arn's eyes. The sorcerer could not look away.

"No…" whispered Xavius half to himself. "It is too soon…but…he said that I must find those worthy…perhaps I could…yes…but to take on such a mantle, one would need the strength and resolve…dare I hope that you have such resolve, friend Peroth'arn?"

Leaping from the bed, Peroth'arn gasped, "I have whatever strength and resolve you need! I would do anything to be more worthy of my queen and Sargeras! Grant me the chance to be one of the worthy, I beg you!"

"It is a fearsome path you would take, dear Peroth'arn…but you would rise above the other Highborne! You would be under my guidance! All who beheld you would know you for one blessed by the lord of the Legion! Your power would grow tenfold and more! You would be the envy of all others, the first to join me!"