All this from so humble-looking a piece.

“You have seen it, even from where you wait,” Illidan went on. “You’ve sensed its glorious might and you rightly hunger for it to be yours.”

Yes…

“It could slay thousands simply through your will. It could sweep clear a land of all resisting life… all life, period.”

Yes…

“But you didn’t consider that it might be the source of power you need to reach this world, did you?”

Sargeras did not answer, which was answer enough. Mannoroth grunted. The night elf was too clever for his own good. The Burning Legion coveted the artifact, but it was still in the possession of the black dragon. Eventually, the demons would have the strength and resources to hunt the beast, but not while they had Illidan’s people to still slaughter.

It has the power, the lord of the Legion at last declared. It could open the way… if it was ours…

“I have the means by which to track its location, to know where the dragon’s hidden it.”

Another telling pause, then, the black beast has shielded himself well… Sargeras responded. Even from me…

Illidan nodded, the smile on his face one that, had it been on anyone else’s, the lord of the Legion would surely have ripped it — and every bit of flesh and sinew attached — off even from the beyond.

“But he’s not shielded from me… because I know how to track him… with this.”

The night elf gestured and in his left hand there suddenly appeared an almost triangular, ebony plate the size of his head. Mannoroth leaned forward. At first he believed it a small piece of armor from one of the world’s defenders, but then he saw that it was not metal.

A dragon’s scale.

The black dragon’s scale.

“A very tiny bit, easily missed by so large a beast,” Illidan remarked, turning it over. “He was struck several times in the combat with the red. I knew there had to be at least one broken scale… and so I rode out and searched for it. Once I found what I wanted, I then continued on to here.”

Mannoroth glared. Was there no end to the sorcerer’s audacity? Unable to keep silent any longer, he growled, “Why? Why not bring it back to your friends? Your brother?”

The night elf looked over his shoulder. “Because I deserve power, reward.”

The demon expected more, but Illidan was finished. The sorcerer turned back to the portal.

“I need unrestricted access to the Well’s energies. The dragon is mighty, especially with the artifact. But, with the Well to fuel me, I’ll find him no matter where he is!”

“And then you’ll just take it from him, mortal?” The tusked demon sneered. “Or will he simply give it to you?”

“I’ll relieve the beast of it one way or another,” Illidan casually replied, still staring into the raging abyss. “And bring it here.”

Mannoroth started to laugh — then cut off as a pressure tightened around his throat. It vanished almost immediately after, but the message was clear. Whatever the winged demon’s own thoughts, the lord of the Legion was interested in the miscreant’s words.

You would bring the dragon’s creation to me, Sargeras declared to Illidan.

“Yes.”

And you will be rewarded greatly for your efforts, should you succeed.

The night elf bowed his head. “Nothing would please me more than to stand before you with the Dragon Soul in my hand.”

Sargeras seemed to chuckle. Such loyalty deserves a mark of favor, a mark that will at the same time aid in the fulfillment of your quest, night elf…

Illidan looked up. For the first time, the barest hint of uncertainty graced his narrow features. “My Lord Sargeras, your crossing to Azeroth will be favor enough and I need no other aid in my — ”

But… I insist.

And from out of the portal shot forth twin tentacles of dark green flame.

Mannoroth immediately shielded his eyes. Illidan — the focus of Sargeras’s spellwork — had no such opportunity, not that it would have done him any good to do so.

The flames poured into his eyes.

The soft tissue was seared instantly. Illidan’s scream echoed throughout the chamber and likely well beyond the palace walls. All trace of arrogance had left his expression. There was only agony, pure and unadulterated.

The flames intensified. Arms spread wide, Illidan was dragged up above the floor. He arched backward, nearly breaking in two. Supernatural fire continued to pour into his blackened sockets even after the last bit of the eyes had long burned away.

The Highborne and satyrs dared not leave their task, but they cringed and tried to shy away from the struggling night elf as much as they could. Even the guards shifted a step or two further back.

Then, as suddenly as they had shot forth, the flames withdrew.

Illidan fell to the hard stone floor, somehow managing to land on his hands and knees. His breath came out in pained gasps. His head hung nearly to the floor. There remained, at least outwardly, no hint of his earlier brashness.

The voice of Sargeras filled the minds of everyone there. Look up, my faithful servant…

Illidan obeyed.

There was no sign of the eyes. Only the sockets remained, sockets scorched black and fleshless. Around the rims could be seen parts of the skull itself, so absolutely had Sargeras removed the orbs.

But if he had taken away the night elf’s eyes, the lord of the Legion had replaced them with something else. There now burned within twin flames, fiery balls the same vicious hue as that which had wreaked such havoc on the sorcerer. The fires burned wildly for several more seconds… then faded until they seemed but smoky remnants. The smoke, however, remained, neither dwindling away nor growing stronger.

Your eyes are now my eyes, night elf, their gifts to serve me as well as you…

Illidan said nothing, clearly too distraught from pain.

Sargeras suddenly reached out to Mannoroth in particular. Send him to his rest. When he is recovered, he will set forth to prove his devotion to me… and seize the artifact…

At Mannoroth’s gesture, two Fel Guard strode up and seized the shaking Illidan. They all but dragged him out of the chamber to his quarters.

The moment the night elf was out of earshot, Sargeras’s lieutenant rumbled, “It’s a mistake to leave this mortal to his own devices, even so humbled!”

He will not journey alone… there will be another. The night elf called Varo’then may be spared for this.

The demon’s broad wings flexed at this news. Mannoroth grinned, a macabre sight at best. “Varo’then?”

Azshara’s hound will keep good watch on the sorcerer. If Illidan Stormrage fulfills his promise, the sorcerer will be granted a place among us…

Such an elevation Mannoroth disliked. “And if the sorcerer proves treacherous?”

Then Varo’then will instead be granted the favor I would bestow upon the druid’s twin… once the captain has delivered onto me the dragon’s creation… and Illidan Stormrage’s beating heart…

Mannoroth’s grin grew wider.