"Absolutely not!"
The instant Evenson proposed a contract, Altheressa rejected the idea with startling intensity.
The reaction alone told him everything he needed to know.
Whatever the Council of the Black Harvest had done while binding them, it had left scars that ran far deeper than imprisonment. She hadn’t even heard the terms before refusing.
Saltheril folded her arms, a cold smile curling across her lips.
"We will never again allow ourselves to be bound by a warlock’s contract."
She tilted her head.
"Unless you’re volunteering to become our servant instead."
Not a chance.
Evenson kept the thought to himself.
"I think you’ve misunderstood." His voice remained calm. "I’m not talking about a master-servant contract."
Both twins paused.
Among demons, there were really only two kinds of agreements with warlocks.
Temporary bargains.
Or permanent enslavement.
Either the warlock controlled the demon...
Or the demon controlled the warlock.
"There is a third option," Evenson explained. "A mutual pact. We establish a set of promises that every party must obey. The contract enforces those promises equally. No masters. No servants."
Altheressa studied him.
"Go on."
Saltheril nodded.
"What are the terms?"
They still held the overwhelming advantage, but the three Artifact Weapons in Evenson’s possession couldn’t simply be ignored.
He took a slow breath.
"When the time comes to offer this world to the Burning Legion, all three of us must be present and all three must agree."
He looked directly at both sisters.
"No one is allowed to contact the Legion alone. No one can negotiate independently."
The twins exchanged a glance.
"You don’t trust us?"
Evenson snorted.
"I trust incentives."
"If either of you reports this world to the Legion behind my back, or rushes to claim credit before Azeroth is conquered, I’d lose everything I’ve worked for."
He gave them a meaningful look.
"And can either of you honestly say you trust me?"
The agreement sounded unfavorable to him at first glance.
After all, he was supposedly the only warlock on Earth with ties to the Burning Legion. Without the twins, he could have claimed all the glory himself.
But that wasn’t the point.
The contract cut both ways.
Without his consent...
The twins couldn’t report Earth to the Legion either.
For several seconds, silence hung between them.
Then, unexpectedly...
"Very well."
"We accept."
No negotiations.
No additional demands.
The magical pact formed almost immediately.
Inside, Evenson nearly burst into laughter.
Finally.
That was way too close.
With the Highlord leading Azeroth’s defenders, the Burning Legion wasn’t going to conquer the planet anytime soon.
If anything, history was heading toward Argus instead.
As long as events followed the Warcraft timeline, he could stall forever.
And even if reality somehow veered completely off script...
The contract still required unanimous consent.
As long as he refused, Earth couldn’t be handed over.
By the time that ever became relevant...
Who knew who would be stronger?
His mood improved considerably.
His eyes drifted toward the twins almost involuntarily.
A certain joke from Azeroth flashed through his mind involving succubi and overeager adventurers.
Focus.
Before his imagination wandered any further, Saltheril interrupted.
"Can we leave this place now?"
She looked around the barren landscape with obvious distaste.
"You don’t actually live out here, do you?" Altheressa asked sympathetically. "If so, you may be the poorest warlock I’ve ever met."
Evenson coughed awkwardly.
"I’m broke, not homeless."
He brushed the dirt from his coat.
"I’ll take you into the city. But first..."
He pointed at their horns and cloven hooves.
"...you’re going to need a different look."
As they were now, S.H.I.E.L.D. probably wouldn’t even be the first organization to notice them.
The Vatican might beat everyone else to it and declare an emergency exorcism.
"We’re perfectly capable of changing our appearance," Saltheril replied with a smug smile. "We served the Deceiver himself. Blending in is hardly beyond us."
"We can become human," Altheressa added, "but we don’t know how people in this world dress."
"That’s easy enough," Saltheril said casually. "We’ll just skim your memories and..."
She stopped.
Something long and rectangular had appeared inches from her face.
Evenson was holding up his smartphone.
Absolutely not.
Even the most reckless warlock knew better than to let a pair of high-ranking Eredar rummage through his mind.
"You can browse this instead."
Saltheril blinked as he flipped through photos.
"These outfits aren’t so different from ours."
Altheressa nodded.
"Most of them, anyway."
She pointed at the screen.
"But those are... interesting."
"Hm?"
Evenson frowned.
Since he was holding the phone toward them while swiping, he hadn’t actually looked at the display himself.
He turned it around.
His soul nearly left his body.
...You’ve got to be kidding me.
One careless swipe had landed on a folder full of screenshots from a collection of rather revealing videos.
For the record... Sarah downloaded these!
I never watched them.
I’m innocent.
He frantically skipped past the images until he found a few ordinary business outfits.
"These."
He shoved the phone back toward them.
"The previous ones were more interesting," Saltheril muttered.
"I liked those too," Altheressa agreed.
Then both sisters began weaving illusion magic.
Evenson silently filed that reaction away.
Noted.
Maybe someday.
Moments later, the spell completed.
He blinked.
Since they were identical twins to begin with, their human forms still looked strikingly alike.
Their features suggested a blend of East Asian and European ancestry, with refined faces, long side-swept black bangs, and athletic, elegant builds.
Altheressa’s skin now matched an ordinary human complexion. She wore a tailored black business suit with thin white pinstripes, crimson heels, and a black lace choker around her neck.
Saltheril retained a darker, sun-kissed complexion. Her outfit was sharper and more modern: a fitted crimson blouse tucked into sleek black leather pants, finished with black high-heeled boots. Apparently disguising cloven hooves as fashionable footwear was remarkably convenient.
Evenson smiled as he looked at them.
Maybe his Umbrella organization wouldn’t remain just an idea after all.
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