The Felfire Rift was one of the Burning Legion’s countless outposts scattered throughout the vast expanse of the Twisting Nether.
The outpost itself occupied the shattered remains of a world the Legion had completely annihilated. The fragment was small, barely half the size of New York City.
That, Evenson reflected, was the fate of planets conquered by the Legion.
If anything survived at all, it was considered fortunate.
There was no sky.
The broken land floated naked within the endless Nether, its surface formed from black, lifeless stone. Pools of molten fel lava bubbled everywhere, bathing the landscape in an eerie green glow and filling the air with oppressive heat.
"No matter how many times I come here," Evenson muttered, "this place is still a miserable dump."
His figure appeared atop a rocky plateau, translucent and slightly blurred.
Fortunately, only his consciousness had crossed into the Twisting Nether.
Had his physical body been here...
Even he wasn’t eager to discover how long it would survive.
This wasn’t his first visit.
Ever since learning to project his spirit into the Twisting Nether, the Felfire Rift had become his preferred destination.
Not because it was pleasant.
Quite the opposite.
It was forgotten.
The outpost lay so deep within Legion territory that even among the Legion’s commanders, few remembered it existed. That made it the perfect place for discreet business.
Far away from the attention of names like Kil’jaeden.
After all, wandering the Twisting Nether without a destination was an excellent way to stumble directly into one of the Burning Legion’s generals.
And no amount of carefully prepared escape magic would save him from that encounter.
Unless he suddenly developed Gul’dan’s enthusiasm for betraying his own world and guiding the Legion to it...
...his future would consist of eternal torment.
No, thank you.
Despite its remote location, the Felfire Rift was still an active Legion outpost.
It wasn’t long before a squad of demons surrounded him.
Evenson remained perfectly calm.
He’d been visiting for years.
Even if every demon here didn’t know him personally, most had at least heard the rumors.
The strange human warlock who preferred gold to power.
Among the demons, he had acquired a modest reputation.
Some called him the Gold-Hungry Warlock.
Others simply called him an idiot.
Before the soldiers could decide what to do with him, an angry female voice echoed from behind them.
"Out of the way, you worthless vermin!"
The demons scattered instantly.
Those who reacted too slowly received several slashes from curved blades before scrambling aside without daring to complain.
Their attacker strode forward.
She stood nearly ten feet tall.
Her pale skin contrasted sharply with an elegant gown that looked strangely regal amid the infernal landscape. A delicate veil covered part of her beautiful face, though it did little to hide her features.
Unfortunately for anyone inclined toward romance...
She also possessed six muscular arms.
Each one carried a rune-etched scimitar.
"Well," she said with a smile. "If it isn’t my favorite little human."
Evenson grinned.
"Good to see you too, Agatha."
She was one of the deputy commanders serving the local Pit Lord.
She also happened to be one of Evenson’s most reliable trading partners.
Even female demons appreciated jewelry.
Agatha regularly collected gemstones, gold ornaments, and extravagant accessories. Whenever she grew bored with them, Evenson happily bought them for cash.
In truth, the arrangement benefited both sides.
Without Evenson, her discarded jewelry would simply become junk.
She waved a dismissive hand.
"Get lost."
The demon soldiers disappeared immediately.
Then she turned back to Evenson.
"So?"
"Looking for gemstones again?"
"Or gold?"
"I haven’t gotten tired of my current collection yet..."
"...but for the right price, I might be persuaded."
"Maybe next time."
Evenson shook his head.
"I’m here to see your lord."
"I have a deal that only he can approve."
Agatha raised an eyebrow.
"Our little miser has finally come to his senses?"
"I was beginning to think you’d never care about real power."
She tapped one of her swords against her shoulder.
"If knowledge or strength is what you’re after, you could always make a deal with me."
"Tempting."
"But this transaction has to be with the Pit Lord."
She shrugged.
"Suit yourself."
"As his subordinate, I suppose I shouldn’t steal my boss’s customers."
As they walked deeper into the outpost, she glanced sideways at him.
"So desperate for power..."
"Found yourself an enemy you can’t handle?"
"If you want, I could solve that problem personally."
"I’ll even give you a discount."
Evenson laughed.
"Your hiring fee is way outside my budget."
I’m already struggling to feed the five disasters waiting back home.
Adding you to payroll would bankrupt me overnight.
Agatha clicked her tongue but didn’t press the matter.
The pair stepped onto a teleportation platform.
Agatha activated the runic gateway with a sequence of arcane sigils.
A flash of fel-green light carried them into the Lord’s Hall.
Waiting there was Hailmondas.
The enormous Pit Lord towered over the chamber.
His body resembled a colossal dragon fused with a demon. Green fel fire streamed continuously from the ridges running across his skull and spine, while massive muscles rippled beneath dark crimson skin.
His mere presence filled the hall.
Agatha quietly excused herself.
Transactions between warlocks and demons were private affairs.
Well...
Most of them.
Buying jewelry was another matter entirely.
The Pit Lord’s thunderous voice shook the chamber.
"What do you want, insect?"
"I’ve come to make a bargain, Lord Hailmondas."
Evenson met the giant’s burning gaze without flinching.
Winning a fight against a Pit Lord was impossible.
Escaping one...
That was another story.
There was no need to grovel.
"A bargain?"
The demon snorted.
"I don’t deal in the useless trinkets you humans obsess over."
"Convenient."
"Neither do I."
The Pit Lord lowered his massive head until it loomed directly over Evenson.
"What do you want then... insect?"
Heat rolled from the demon’s breath.
Evenson discreetly stepped backward to avoid both the sparks and the smell.
"Your blood."
Hailmondas leaned back.
A slow grin spread across his monstrous face.
"That..."
"...is expensive."
Evenson reached into his satchel and removed six Soul Shards, placing them carefully on the stone floor.
"That’s everything I have."
"My entire stock."
The Pit Lord pinched one crystal between enormous claws and lifted it to his nose.
He sniffed.
"Poor quality."
Naturally.
The shards had been harvested from ordinary human souls.
"I don’t need much."
Evenson shrugged.
"One cup is enough."
"And let’s be honest."
"I’m the only warlock who ever bothers coming all the way out here."
The implication hung in the air.
Sell it...
Or don’t.
Someone else would eventually buy his Soul Shards.
Finding another supplier of demon blood would take effort.
Finding another customer in this forgotten outpost would be far more difficult.
Suddenly...
A massive double-bladed spear slammed into the stone floor only inches from Evenson.
The impact shook the chamber.
At the same instant, violet light ignited around Evenson’s hand.
His emergency escape spell.
Whenever he dealt with demons, he prepared an exit before negotiations even began.
One thought...
And his consciousness would instantly return to his physical body.
Against beings like Kil’jaeden, the spell would be laughably inadequate.
Against a Pit Lord of Hailmondas’ rank...
It was enough.
The demon glared down at him.
"You’d better pray your real body never appears before me, warlock."
Despite the threat, Hailmondas dragged one claw across his own hand.
Thick, emerald blood poured from the wound.
Evenson uncorked a crystal vial and carefully collected exactly what he needed.
"No more."
"No less."
He sealed the bottle and slipped it safely into his robe.
"Our transaction is complete, Lord Hailmondas."
Without waiting for another response, he activated his spell.
Purple light swallowed him.
His spirit vanished from the Twisting Nether, returning safely to his waiting body.
...
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