There had once been countless champions across Azeroth who’d heard the promises of the Burning Legion’s greatest demons.
"Join us."
"Power beyond imagination awaits."
"Exceptional benefits included."
History had recorded the response.
The heroes of Azeroth had unanimously declined.
Then they’d killed the recruiters.
Now...
It was Evenson’s turn.
The one tempting him wasn’t a Legion commander.
She was arguably even more dangerous.
Ulthalesh, the Deadwind Harvester.
An Artifact Weapon coveted by every Warlock who had ever lived.
And unlike those who came before him...
Evenson already knew exactly how intoxicating her power felt.
A Warlock might resist strength he had never possessed.
Taking away power that already rested in his hands?
That was another matter entirely.
It was the difference between admiring a millionaire’s mansion from across the street...
...and asking a lottery winner to hand back every cent after he’d already cashed the ticket.
Good luck with that conversation.
"By mortal standards..."
Ulthalesh folded her arms.
"Seven years is hardly a short time."
"You spent all those years sealing me away."
"And the other two Artifact Weapons as well."
"What an unforgivable waste."
She clicked her tongue in disgust.
"Shrinking away from power."
"Hesitating."
"Playing it safe."
"What a disgrace to the name of Warlock."
For one horrifying moment...
Evenson could practically imagine generations of legendary Warlocks staring at him in collective disappointment.
Coward.
Amateur.
Embarrassment.
"What are you still hesitating for?"
Ulthalesh spread her hands.
"A tiny compromise."
"In exchange for limitless strength."
"How often does an opportunity like that appear?"
Her words echoed through his mind.
Take what heaven offers.
Refusing a gift is foolish.
The temptation wrapped around his thoughts like warm fog.
He was almost ready to agree.
Then...
He froze.
A gift from the Holy Light became a blessing.
A gift from the Arcane became enlightenment.
A miracle bestowed by the divine remained exactly that.
But when a demon handed you a gift...
Didn’t most people call that a trap?
His thoughts suddenly cleared.
Then he noticed something else.
That ridiculous crimson cape.
The memory hit him like lightning.
Ulthalesh proudly goose-stepping around an arena while thousands of souls cheered during a Hearthstone championship.
...
If he merged with her...
Would he end up like that?
His carefully maintained image would never recover.
"I refuse."
Ulthalesh tilted her head.
"Oh?"
"And why?"
"Because you’re the Queen of the Nathrezim."
"The greatest deceiver among dreadlords."
Evenson met her eyes.
"You just finished explaining how meaningless vague agreements are."
"So why would I trust another one?"
The more he thought about her offer...
The worse it became.
I won’t erase your will.
True.
She could simply shove it into a corner instead.
I’ll only assist you.
True again.
Taking complete control of his body while politely calling it "assistance" still technically fit that promise.
The loopholes were practically endless.
Ulthalesh merely smiled.
"So..."
"You figured it out."
There wasn’t a trace of anger.
Only amusement.
"It doesn’t matter."
"I have all the time in the world."
Her tongue slowly traced across her lips.
"And despite everything you’ve said..."
"...your body is far more honest than your mouth."
"You’re still holding my scythe."
"As long as you refuse to let go..."
"Your soul cannot leave."
She sat comfortably upon an invisible chair.
"Eventually you’ll be assimilated into my kingdom."
"Once that happens..."
"I won’t need your permission anymore."
A vivid image flashed through Evenson’s mind.
Thousands of translucent souls.
Bouquets in hand.
Cheering enthusiastically from the stadium seats.
"Welcome!"
"Welcome!"
He imagined himself among them.
Matching everyone else’s choreography.
Smiling.
Waving flowers.
Applauding Hearthstone tournaments for all eternity.
Cold sweat ran down his back.
Absolutely not.
Without another second’s hesitation, Evenson began chanting.
Purple light gathered around his soul.
This was an emergency escape spell he’d developed years ago while exploring the Twisting Nether in spirit form.
Once activated...
His soul should instantly return to his physical body.
Assuming it hadn’t already become lunch for a Demon Lord.
Ulthalesh watched him with complete indifference.
Then, to his utter disbelief...
She casually produced a small table.
"Don’t waste your effort."
She sounded almost bored.
"You’re nowhere near strong enough to escape my realm."
The spell completed.
Purple light flared brilliantly.
Then...
Nothing.
Evenson remained exactly where he was.
"I told you."
She placed a deck of cards onto the table.
"The assimilation won’t take long."
"So while we’re waiting..."
She smiled brightly.
"Care for a game of Hearthstone?"
Evenson almost exploded.
A game?
I’d rather flip that table over your head.
If you want me to play Hearthstone, at least give me an actual Hearthstone!
Then...
He paused.
Something had changed.
His body suddenly felt lighter.
His soul was becoming increasingly transparent.
He was rising.
Floating upward.
Hope surged through him.
The Eredar Twins.
They’d kept their promise.
Their countermeasures had finally reached him.
I owe those two a thank-you.
"So..."
Ulthalesh looked up as his soul drifted away.
"Leaving already?"
She made no attempt to stop him.
Instead, she simply held up the deck of cards.
"I’ll save this match."
"One day..."
"You’ll come back and finish it."
The darkness shattered.
"...Buddy?"
A familiar voice broke through the haze.
Evenson blinked.
Thor stood directly in front of him.
The battlefield.
New York.
He was back.
"I’m fine."
Relief washed over him.
Thor didn’t look convinced.
"Are you?"
He hesitated.
"...You might want to look at your hand."
"My hand?"
Evenson glanced downward.
Then screamed.
His entire right hand...
And most of his forearm...
Had turned charcoal black.
Before he could inspect the damage more closely...
The limb crumbled.
Like burned wood collapsing into ash.
Black fragments scattered across the ground.
Evenson stared blankly at the empty space where his hand had been.
Then let out a heartbroken wail that echoed across the battlefield.
"MY RIGHT HAND!"
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