warlock of destruction

Magic in the air

AN: The reader is a warlock training under Magnus Bane and, one day Magnus’ boyfriend brings in a broken Shadowhunter and begs you to heal him.
Characters: Alec Lightwood, Jace Wayland
Pairings: Jace x reader, Magnus x Alec
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Prompt: “Can you do a Jace x reader where y/n is a warlock who saves his life and they fall in love?”


You hummed a senseless tune to yourself as you scanned Magnus Bane’s bookshelf, running your fingers over the rough spines. You were looking for something, a book that you’d spied earlier in the day during one of your many lessons.

“Got ya.” You called triumphantly, pulling the navy blue book into your hands with a flick of your wrist, “Demon marks: A history and amalgamation.”

You blew gently on the cover, levitating the book at eye level and watching the pages flick by, searching for anything that might explain your own, unique marking; a black tattoo, just to the side of your left eye.

Magnus had always maintained that it was normal, every warlock had some abnormality, but you’d never seen any others sporting anything even vaguely similar to yours and you couldn’t help but worry.
Usually you would talk to Magnus about your concerns, but your mentor had left for a few days, stating only that he had ‘something important to take care of’ and warning you to be on your guard, Valentine was still out there. Just the thought made your blood run cold. You’d been growing still, when Valentine’s circle had first gained power, so your powers hadn’t developed even nearly enough to be of any use, you were a sitting duck. It was Magnus who had taken you in, training you in how to control your powers, how to use them to protect yourself and the world around you, as well as destroy your enemies.

The rain echoed on the lair’s roof and lightning crackled through the night air, making you shiver and hoping your mentor was safe, wherever he was.

“Magnus!” Someone called, slamming against the front door, “Magnus open up!”

You jumped, a scream slipping from your lips as your heart leapt into your throat. The voice was deep and desperate and not exactly what you’d call ‘friendly’. What if it was Valentine? What if he’d found you?

“Magnus,” the voice called again, breaking with what sounded to you like pain, “please.”

Suddenly, something clicked, you knew that voice!

“Alec?” you asked, opening the door with a figure of eight wave.

The dark haired Shadowhunter ran in, a blonde body cradled in his rune covered arms.

“Y/N, where’s-where’s Magnus?” he asked, breathless from running, “Where is he!?”

“He’s not here!” you replied frantically, “He went out on business!”

Alec cursed and you took a moment to inspect the boy in Alec’s arms. You gasped, his abdomen had been torn open and, although you could see several hastily drawn iratzes, they weren’t even nearly enough to contend with the amount of damage that had been done.

“What happened?” You asked Alec.

“We were called to take out a pack of ravener demons, but when we arrived, it was Marax who was waiting for us.” Alec explained, “Y/N, please heal him.”

Your eyes widened, “I-I’m not sure if I-“

“Please!” Alec insisted, “Please, just try.”

You looked at the ravaged boy and then into Alec’s pleading eyes, took a deep breath and nodded once.

“Lay him on the ground.” You commanded, rolling your sleeves up past your elbows and kneeling before the boy, “Do you know where Magnus keeps his tools?” Alec nodded, “Fetch me five Cardelia leaves, two navy candles, a hydra scale, a mortar and pestle, his ceremonial knife and three sticks of incense.” Alec looked at you, confused, “They have labels on them!” you snapped, “Go Alec, your friend is dying!”

The boy nodded and ran, while he fetched what you needed, you inspected the blonde before you. Your heart pounded in your chest like a jack hammer. You didn’t even know where to start! He’d lost so much blood, the skin on his stomach was torn and ragged, red muscle visible to the naked eye. It was too much, you couldn’t do it! You couldn’t, you couldn’t, you-

The boy gasped, his eyes fluttering open as his body contorted with pain. You squealed, fumbling back.

“Who’re-“ he started, stopping to cry out.

“Shh,” you said, trying to regain your composure, “don’t waste your strength.” You awkwardly patted his forehead in what was supposed to be a gesture of comfort, “I’m Y/N, I’m going to help you.”

The blonde nodded, tears slipping from his multi coloured eyes as he trusted his life to the oddly dressed girl with the confusing tattoo.

“I’m-“ he forced out, agony erupting from every part of his body, “Jace.”

“Shh.” You insisted, “You’re going to be okay Jace. I can do this.”


Alec lit the incense and the candles as you crushed the Cardelia leaves and scale together.

“Magnus doesn’t use this stuff.” Alec observed, far calmer at the prospect of having something to do.

You snorted, “Magnus wasn’t healing a wound from a greater demon, was he?”

Alec looked down sheepishly, “I guess not.”

“Almost done,” you muttered to yourself, lining up the knife’s blade with your palm, “just one more ingredient.”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Alec called, seeing the knife, “What’re you doing?”

Ignoring him, you gripped the blade with your left hand, letting the metal slice through your skin and biting down on your tongue to avoid crying out. Slowly, you let your blood drip into the pasty mixture of leaf and scale.

“Child of Lilith’s blood,” you explained, your voice shaking, “it-uh-it has healing properties sometimes.”


“It depends which demon fathered you.” You admitted, “Mine has healing properties, Magnus’ doesn’t.”

You stirred the potion together one last time, silently praying that you were doing the right thing. The final product was a green coloured liquid which you asked Alec to pour down Jace’s throat. You sipped some yourself, drawing on the energy of the incense and the universe around you to power your spell.

Rolling your wrists, you summoned, from deep within yourself, the magic that fuelled your existence. It sparked to life in the form of flickering gold smoke that you allowed to swirl around your hands.

“With fire and light, the spell has begun.” You heard yourself rasp in a voice very different to your own.

Without hesitation, you pressed your hands to Jace’s decimated torso, wincing as the magic drew upon your life force to give it power. The pain started as just a dull burn, but slowly increased to a raging inferno of agony which ripped screams from your throat the longer you held it. Tine ceased to exist. All that mattered was the task, and the awful pain that it brought with it. You were dying, you could feel it. You had exhausted the potion’s power, as well as that of the candles and you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold on.

Alec, sensing something was wrong, reached his hand to you, trust lighting up his deep blue eyes.

“Take my strength!” He shouted over the sound of the wind and the rain and the spell, “Take it!”

You hesitated, not wanting to cause any damage to your mentor’s lover, but gave in, knowing you couldn’t do this alone. Your blood-soaked hand gripped Alec’s tightly and you couldn’t help but sigh with relief as new strength flooded into your veins. You pushed as much as you could into your spell, hoping against hope that it was enough.

When you looked down, you shrieked with surprise. It was working! Jace’s wounds were almost closed. You looked to Alec, trying to pass on the good news with your eyes. It was going to be enough, Jace would live.

Soon after, you finally let the magic go, collapsing onto the wooden floor, sputtering and gasping for air, but relieved.

At the same time, Jace Wayland sat up, gasping as though he hadn’t breathed for days and looking around the apartment, confused.

“Jace!” Alec laughed, pulling the boy into a hug, “Welcome back buddy.”

“Thanks,” Jace replied nervously, “what uh-how am I back?”

Alec gestured to you as you forced yourself into a seated position, breathing as though you’d just run five marathons and feeling about as tired.

You gave the boy a weak smile, “Y/N Y/L/N, we met earlier.”

Jace nodded, his eyes clinging to yours, “I think I remember that.” He smiled genuinely at you, “Thank you Y/N Y/L/N, really, I know you didn’t have to do that.”

“That? Pssht,” you joked, “that was nothing, just a regular Wednesday night here at the Magnus Bane household.”

Jace laughed and you found that you liked the sound quite a bit.

“Alec, hun, can you please fetch me some more ingredients? I think your friend might need another dose, just to be safe.” You asked the boy, internally screaming at the idea of having to exert more energy on magic but nevertheless dedicated to seeing this through.

“No no no,” Jace insisted, scooting over to where you were still struggling to sit up, “You just saved my life and, by the looks of it, nearly killed yourself doing it. Let us look after you, please?”

You looked into Jace’s sincere and intriguing eyes, weighing up the options in your head. What would Magnus do?


And that’s how you ended up wrapped in a thick blanket, with a mug of hot chocolate in one hand and a piece of pizza in the other, snuggled up between Alec and Jace, insisting that you were fine and being continuously shushed.

“Shadowhunters are pushy.” You complained, pouting into your hot chocolate.

“Only when we meet stubborn, self-destructive warlocks.” Jace countered

Your mouth dropped open in protest, “I am not self-destructive! I’m just…helpful, that’s all.”

“Uh huh,” Jace agreed sarcastically, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, “sure sweetie, whatever you say.”

You giggled, relaxing into his embrace. You liked the boy, he seemed…well, not nice exactly, but caring and genuine and fiercely loyal to his parabatai Alec. You respected that, it was how you felt about Magnus.

“Seriously though,” Jace asked, turning to look you in the eye, “why don’t you want us taking care of you?”

You shrugged, uncomfortable with all the attention and the obvious affection he was showing you.

“When you’re a warlock, people don’t really look after you.” You tried to explain, “I mean, we’re freaks, half-breeds; we’re the universe’s big mistake. Shadowhunters don’t trust us, demons hate us, humans don’t think we exist, seelies are…seelies, and vampires aren’t known for their inclusive nature.” You shrugged again, “People use us for our magic, but other than that, we’re on our own.” You looked at the boy, “You know it’s true. Look me in the eye and tell me that, if I had bat wings or purple skin, you would still be here looking after me.” You looked forward again, breaking the connection, “I’m just lucky enough to look mostly human.”

Jace and Alec locked eyes, red hot shame seeping into their bones. You were right, they both realised; they had been treating you like a human because somehow they’d convinced themselves you were one. Or at least, that you were more human than other warlocks they’d met.

“I’m really sorry Y/N.” Jace said honestly.

“For what?” you asked sadly.

“Society I guess,” he started, “and I’m sorry that I never even bothered to think about that, about how we treat your people, before now.”

You smiled, “It’s okay, you’re thinking about it now.”

Jace looked down at you, smiling to himself with the certainty that he’d started something he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop. You were going to change him, he could just feel it.

Okay, apparently it is “canon” that Magnus went to Spain to learn to control his powers. BUT I call BULLSHIT on that because that implies that there were zero warlocks who could train him in Indonesia so…

  • The reason he uses two fingers in his magic is because of his Indonesian Warlock trainers- they taught him that magic isn’t a tool or a weapon but another limb. A part of him.
    • As a result, he doesn’t have to work as hard at “controlling” it as some of his western trained friends 
  • He’s way better at sensing other warlock’s magic in his territory because they taught him about the community of magic. How it isn’t about the individual and each spell cast enters the Warlock into a broader community. 
  • They teach him the truth: Warlocks aren’t really “immortal.” They can’t outlast the sun, outlive the species. There will never be a billion-year-old warlock. There are barely any warlocks over a thousand years old. As a Warlock ages, their magic gets more powerful and eventually it circles back into a type of cancerous destruction. 
    • A healthy, able warlock will probably live around five thousand- seven thousand years. 
    • They teach him not to mourn that: everything that is created must eventually be destroyed 
  • They teach him to not use his magic for destruction, or death. They teach him he should protect himself, but he never goes out of his way to end human life. They teach him instead how to use his magic to heal, to create, to protect. They actually teach him how to create wards which are more powerful than traditional European magic. 
    • He actually doesn’t go into battle, because he goes slowly. He doesn’t shoot to kill (which is quick), he aims to injure and subdue, which takes more time. 
    • Only against humans obviously, he kills demons because their only purpose is to cause destruction 
Overwatch Heroes in WoW

So I did that sketch of Mercy earlier, and she’s clearly fit to be a priest… Holy Priest to be specific.

But I was wondering about the others:

Mei - Frost Mage (too easy)
McCree - Outlaw Rogue (that talent spec name is made for him)
Hanzo - Marksmanship Hunter
Widowmaker - Assassination Rogue (because I am trying to avoid duplicates)
Zenyatta - Mistweaver Monk (he’s a monk for crying out loud)
Reinhardt  - Protection Warrior (Shockwave is like his Earthshatter)
Reaper - Death Knight (Frost probably…)
Junkrat - Destruction Warlock or Fire Mage (anything that sets things on fire)
Lucio - Restoration Druid (they can’t stampeding roar anymore, but this seems the best fit since Typhoon is like his right click and Efflorescence is like his healing song)
Torbjorn - Beast-mastery Hunter (Molten Core makes me think of Bestial Wrath)
Symmetra - Discipline Priest (for shields)

Now this is where I start having problems. Either I am having trouble finding a class and spec that fits. Or I do not know enough about the class to make a knowledgeable suggestion.

Roadhog - Blood Death Knight (for Death Grip)
Soldier 76 - Retribution Paladin?
Pharah - Arms Warrior?
Genji - Subtlety Rogue (I would have said Assassination Rogue, but Widowmaker)
Tracer - Feral Druid? (because of displacer beast, or a mage because of Blink)
Winston - Guardian Druid?
Zarya - Protection Paladin? (running out of tanks, and Brewmaster Monk doesn’t seem to fit)
Ana - Restoration Shaman? (because Holy Paladin doesn’t fit)
Bastion - Fury Warrior???

Beautiful Destruction


This is a story about princesses, and princes, large castles, and larger empires. A story with witches, and warlocks, trolls, and ogres. Knights in shining armour. However, this tale is not one that ends with ‘Happily Ever After’. It is in this tale that our heroes die, and our villains rule - for this tale is more than a bedtime story; it is our history.

Our story begins over one hundred years ago in the land of Taedium, a country that was once full of Fae - elves, faeries, all magical beings - who lived in peaceful harmony with humans. Until Chaol Morgenstern became King. Morgenstern killed all the Fae, as well as anyone who stood against him. The only Fae left alive fled to Elipeda; a foreign country west of Taedium. At least, that’s what Morgenstern thought…

Long ago, a baby girl was abandoned outside an old pub. A man named Dolosus Cain found her and took her in at his institute: a place where skilled individuals train to become skilled assassins. Cain gave the girl a home and a name - Bella Eversio - that would make grown men shake in their boots. For that baby girl grew up to be the most wanted assassin in all of Taedium.



“Run Bella!” Matt yells, “Don’t let them catch you!”

I sprint as fast as I can, trying to ignore Matt’s screams of agony. Arrows whiz past me, and I narrowly dodge them.

Keep running.

Matt can’t die in vain. I can hear my heart thumping in time with my footsteps

Keep running.

The sound of the King’s horses is getting closer.

Keep running.

I know I won’t make it, and I make a decision that I will regret for the rest of my life.

I stop running.

I turn and face Matt’s killers, “You want me?!” I scream, my eyes blazing with hatred so intense it burns, “come and get me!” I throw my head back and thrust my arms up, pushing all my magic out. Fire sparks and spreads around my attackers. Their eyes flash with fear and confusion, while I let out one last mirthless laugh before collapsing to the ground.




“Get up you worthless piece of horse dung!” I awake with a start. Just a dream. It was just a dream. “what are you waiting for?! Move!” I roll over to see a young man at the doorway of my cell. I begin to rise, but apparently not fast enough for him.

“Stupid girl. You need to be taught a lesson.” He begins to unfurl a coiled whip on his hip, and I feel tears threaten to spill. I won’t cry. Crying shows weakness. I am Bella Eversio, and I will be strong.

Countless strikes later, the wounds on my back have reopened, and I’m sure I have a new set of scars to add to my collection. Ten seconds, I tell myself. Ten seconds of pain and weakness, and then I will pick myself up, and I will be strong. I inhale deeply, counting down from ten, letting tears fall freely down my face. When ten seconds are over, I stand. I will be strong, I think. I pull my hair back, and wash my face, wiping away any trace of weakness along with the grime. And I walk out of the cell, head held high. I will be strong.



The halls are lit by lanterns of every colour, flags hang from each wall in blue and gold; Morgenstern crest colours. The King is holding an extravagant ball. The occasion? His slaughter of eight families, and the enslavement of twelve. As if that is not enough, his majesty has chosen me to make a toast of celebration. He knows I disagree with all of this. Yet I must now celebrate it. The thought disgusts me.

I am sitting in my chambers, finishing my hair when my handmaiden Nesryn walks in. Her usually perfect red hair is unkempt, and she is breathing quite hard. It doesn’t take more than a glance for me to figure that something is wrong.

“Milady,” Nesryn says, dipping into a curtsy, “There’s something you should see.” I simply stare for a moment before standing and smoothing out my gown. I gesture to Nesryn to lead the way, and she runs quickly out the door.

Quicker than I can imagine, Nesryn is pulling me through parts of the castle I’ve never seen before. Doors seem to appear as we move, Nesryn muttering inaudible phrases under her breath. We halt, and I take in our surroundings. We’ve stopped in a room that looks like my chambers, and I wonder if Nesryn has led me in a circle.

When I look back to her, she is moving her hands as a ball of blue light grows between her palms. Voices emit from the magical sphere, and I concentrate on hearing the conversation, pushing away my newfound information about Nesryn.

“What will you do with the girl?” A cold female voice asks

A male voice responds, “kill her. She has served her purpose.”

“You’ll do it yourself?” The woman asks, surprised.

“Of course not. I’ll hire someone much more… suitable.” I can almost hear the smirk, “the people will mourn Morgana, but they’ll get over it eventually.”

I turn to Nesryn, keeping my posture poised, and say, “I have heard enough. Take me back.”

“But - She sputters, letting the light disperse, "I -

"I said, I’ve heard enough.” I say, turning back.

Once we reach my chamber, I don my traveling cloak and exit the castle, all thoughts of the ball gone. I walk quickly through the busy streets, ignoring the people’s murmurs and stop in front of an old apothecary. I hesitate. Is this one favour too many? Shaking my head, I knock thrice on the old oak door. They open. However, the boy in front of me is not the one I came for.



“Sir, I’m not sure what you mean.” I sigh exasperated. Apparently the customer is not always right. In fact, I can say from experience, that the customer is almost always wrong.

“This is an apothecary, right?” a man asks, crossing his arms defiantly.

I nod, trying not to punch him in the face.

“So give me some medicine!” he roars, and I can almost see the smoke come out of his large ears.

I frown, “Sir, you need to be more specific. Do you know what kind of medicine you need?” I run a hand through my black hair.

The man holds up a bottle, “All I know is that I drank this, and I felt better.” I peer at the bottle and pinch my nose in frustration.

“Sir, that’s whiskey.” The man suddenly looks very embarrassed, and exits.

I shake my head. It must be hard to be that incompetent. In the silence, I begin cleaning up broken vials, and misplaced bottles. Suddenly I hear a small squeak. Darn mice. Walking towards the noise, I hold a hand out, ready to blast the rodent into oblivion. I reach a cupboard, and see a tiny black mouse in a chipped teacup. I open the cupboard and grab the rodent in my two hands. Suddenly there is a loud POP, and I drop the creature in surprise.

When I open my eyes, there is no mouse, but…a boy? Standing in front of me is a tall, dark skinned male who looks about my age. His brown hair is curly and falls down to his broad shoulders. Cool gray eyes shine with a mixture of fear and sadness. Before I can say anything he blurts out, “Please don’t arrest me.” His eyes flit around nervously, “I just need to buy medicine for my friend.”

“What kind do you need?” I ask, feeling sorry for the guy. He obviously lives on the streets.

“I’m not sure.” he pauses, confused, “Wait, you saw me shift, and you’re not going to turn me in?”

I chuckle softly, stirring a potion in a cauldron, “I’ve always known that there are still Fae in Taedium.” I hand him a vial of pink liquid, “hold this.”

“How?” His demeanour has shifted slightly, changing from scared to curious.

“Because. I am one.” I state. I move a hand over the vial, and it shimmers, “give that to your friend. Don’t worry about the price. You can work it off here.” Seeing his stunned expression, I add sternly, “one hour. Don’t be late.”



I’ve always been a runner. I ran from the orphanage at seven, from the foster system at twelve, and now at eighteen I am running from the law. At the moment, I’m running to get to an apothecary for my friend Jem. I say friend, but the truth is, on the streets you have no friends. Only allies, and people repaying a debt.

As I get closer I hear a man say, “all I know is I drank this, and I felt better.” There’s the signal. I sneak through the back door and with a small pop transform into a miniscule black rat. Now in rodent form, I scurry through the shop, looking for any medicine that might help a passed out Jem.

Suddenly I hear footsteps, and I scramble to find a hiding spot. Settling for a small cupboard, I run up the wood and hop into a teacup, squeaking when the cupboard closes on my tail. All I can do is pray my slipup wasn’t heard, as a young man walks towards me. His jet black hair stands up and his bright blue eyes are framed by thick silver lines drawn onto his olive skin. He opens the cupboard and grabs me out of the teacup. Out of instinct, I shift. I can feel my muscles stretching, my claws elongating into thin fingers, and I am glad the man has closed his eyes, for it is not a pretty sight. Once I have fully shifted, he cracks his eyes open, and looks at me with surprise. He doesn’t look at me like most people, he looks like he understands. Then again, I might be imagining it.

“Please don’t arrest me!” I blurt, “I just need to buy medicine for my friend.”

“What kind do you need?” He looks at me with something unidentifiable, sympathy?

“I’m not sure.” My brows furrow, and I remember why I’m confused, “Wait, you saw me shift, and you’re not going to turn me in?”

He lets out a chuckle, “I’ve always known there are still Fae in Taedium.” He hands me a vial of something pink, “hold this.”

“How?” I wonder out loud, no longer scared, only curious.

“Because. I am one.” He moves a hand over the vial, and his eyes glow golden. “Give that to your friend. Don’t worry about the price. You can work it off here.” He must have seen my expression because he adds, “one hour. Don’t be late.”

I run out of the apothecary to Jem. I put a hand on his forehead, and my face goes slack. I’m too late. The boy who’s been running his whole life couldn’t run fast enough.



As I leave the cell, a guard approaches me, “you have a visitor.”

Without batting an eye, I respond, “who, the King?” It was meant as a joke, but the guard’s face tells me my joke just became a reality. With a heavy sigh, I continue on my path to meet the man who killed my best friend and put me in this hellhole. The monster we call our king


“Let me get this straight.” I say to the King. Once I was brought to the palace, I had made myself comfortable, slinging one leg over an arm rest, and leaving the other dangling from the seat of the chair. “You want me to kill your daughter. Why?”

The King sneers cruelly, “that, is none of your business, dearie.”

My lip curls in disgust, “don’t call me dearie.” I snarl at him.

A guard makes a move towards me, but I turn to him first, “touch me, and I’ll burn you to the ground.” I growl, green eyes blazing.

The King turns his attention back to me, “I understand you are a skilled elemental.” I nod, and he continues, “I’ve seen ice, air, and fire powers - but what is Earth?”, He’s leaning forward now in that throne of his. The throne crafted from everyone he’s stepped on to get there.

I flip my ebony hair and say, “that, is none of your business, dearie.” I taunt.

He sighs, “I could just kill you.”

I laugh loudly, “please. It took twelve of your best to take me down after I exerted all my energy. You have five here, and three of them can barely hold their swords.”

The King looks down, twirling a ring on is finger, “you have a fortnight. You will dye your hair, and pose as a foreign maid called Lilith. If you fail, I will make sure you die a slow and painful death.”

I grin, “love a challenge. What about when I succeed?”

He responds quickly, “you’ll be freed.”

My smile grows, “deal.” We shake hands, and I shudder at the contact, and then I’m off to find the princess. Who knew the girl I’m meant to kill would soon be my partner


“Gaius’s apothecary. How can I help you?” The boy says. The boy who isn’t Dorian.

“Who are you?” I demand, “where’s Dorian?”

The boy is the picture definition of confused, “right behind me?” I look past the boy and let out a breath at the sight of a familiar face. I run and wrap my arms around him in a tight embrace.

“You okay?” He asks into my hair, “I’m assuming you heard about the King.”

I look up quickly, “how do you know? Nesryn just showed me!”

“Well, first of all, Fae?” He says, pointing to himself, “and the vision is from a while ago. We didn’t think anything was serious… but he went into Claustrum today and hired Bella Eversio. Word is that she disguised herself as a maid called Lilith.”

“The new girl is Bella Eversio? As in Elemental assassin, Bella Eversio?”

Dorian shrugs, “I guess so. By the way, this is Risi. He’s helping me out.” He says gesturing to the mystery boy who opened the door.

I reach a hand out, “Morgana. Sorry for lashing out at you. I was just in shock. We shake hands, and I tilt my head, "Are you Fae?”

Risi nods, “metamorphagus. Dorian found me when I was in rat form. Mildly embarrassing.” We all laugh, “And yourself?”

“Sort of. I’m a seer, but I’m not very good yet.” I can feel a blush creeping up my neck as Dorian begins contradicting me, saying that I really am very good, just not confident.

Dorian leans against the doorjamb casually, “so, Risi. Any ideas on how to save her majesty here?” Risi thinks for a moment before responding.

“I’ve heard that Bella actually hates the King. We could recruit her and take him down, all four of us.” he suggests.

Dorian and I exchange a glance, “that could work.” I say slowly.

Risi laughs, “yeah, you just have to get over the whole 'killing my father’ thing.

"That man is many things, my father not being one of them.” I say softly. I look to Dorian, and he nods reassuringly, “then its settled. Let’s go get Bella Eversio on our side.”

And we start on our way back to the palace, where the most feared person in all of Taedium currently resides.



What was Risi thinking? Kill the King? A bunch of inexperienced Fae cannot take down Chaol Morgenstern. It might be possible with the other girl, but our chances of recruiting her are incredibly slim. As we walk to the palace, I get the feeling this is a suicide mission. Risi and I exchange an uneasy glance as we near the blue and gold gates. Morgana, on the other hand, had her nose high in the air. Whether or not that confidence is a mask, I couldn’t tell you. She says something to the guards, and they give a curt nod and open the gates for us. I turn to my right to ask Risi if this is his first time at the palace, but he’s gone. In his place is a blond, fair skinned boy.

The boy whispers out of the corner of his mouth, “its still me. Metamorphagus, remember? The palace guards aren’t fond of street rats…” he trails off

Once we’re inside the palace, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Morgana removes her cloak and drapes it over a marble banister, “she should be in my chambers, Nesryn was showing her the ropes.”

“Lead the way Morgana.” I say, gesturing to the gold stairs.

“We must be quiet. I’m meant to be at the ball right now.” She begins walking up the stairs, careful not to make a sound. Risi and I follow suit, and soon we are in her chambers.

I recognize Nesryn’s fiery red hair immediately, and there is a young blonde next to her. Bella Eversio. I clear my throat, “Nesryn, could we have a moment alone with Lilith?”

Bella is smirking as Nesryn leaves the room, “so I’m assuming you know who I am?”

Morgana nods, “shall we call you Bella, or Lilith?”

“You can call me whatever the heck you want if you get to the point.” She says, picking at her nails, “Wait. You’re the one -

"You have to kill?” Morgana finishes, “That’s why we’re here. We know you hate my father as much as we do, so we want to recruit you. To take him down.”

Bella crosses her arms, “I’m listening.”



The assassin is going to kill us. Oh God, she’s going to unleash her fire and ice powers on us if we say one wrong thing. Which is why I become incredibly nervous when everyone looks to me to explain.

I scratch my head, “uhm, well, basically we all want the King gone, and we need your help?”

She looks bored, “you asking me, or telling me?” I open my mouth but she continues, “don’t answer that. Anyway, do you have a plan?”

My mouth opens and closes like a fish but no words come out, possibly because we have no plan, “uh, in development?” I say meekly.

Bella looks up, “What’s your power pretty boy?” when neither I nor Dorian respond she says, “You. With the guyliner. No offense to you blondie.”

Dorian stutters, “Uh, I’m a warlock.”

She nods. “Interesting. And you princess? Are you Fae too?”

Morgana gulps and says, “seer.”

“And lastly, blondie.” Bella says with a smirk.

With a pop I shift back into my original form and say, “Metamorphagus.”

She smiles widely, “I’ve always wanted to shift, though I hear it is painful.” She looks deep in though for a moment before continuing, “So do any of you have any useful skills I should know about?”

When no one breaks the silence, I speak up, “I’m good at running,” Everyone stares, “Hey you asked for my skills!”

Morgana is the next to speak, “Dorian’s is good with potions, and I am pretty handy with a bow and arrow.”

Bella mulls the new information over, “I can work with that. Anything else?”

Dorian casts a side glance at Morgana then says, “Morgana has charmspeak - if she tells someone to do something, they have to liste -

"I know what charmspeak is.” Bella interrupts, “now we have a fortnight to do this, but I’d much prefer sooner, rather than later.” When no one moves she claps loudly, “let’s go! Are we killing the King or not?”

I smile. This might just work. Maybe for once in my life, I wouldn’t run away.



The huge clock chimes twelve as I sit on my bed, preparing myself. I have my sword, daggers, and cloak. I hear three knocks on my door - go time. I stand, and as I walk out the door, I think to myself I will be strong.

Sheathing my sword, and tucking my braided hair into my cloak, I move quietly in the shadows. The plan is fairly simple: Morgana tells the guards to leave their post in front of the King’s chambers, while Risi and Dorian slip a potion into King’s nightly mead. He’ll be out like a light. Then I’ll go into the chamber, and kill him. As much as I’d like for it to be slow and excruciating, we need to leave no trace. I decided on decapitating him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Morgana speaking to the guards. They move as if in a trance, leaving their post. She catches my eye and nods curtly. Clear. I move towards the door, hoping that Risi and Dorian succeeded. I open the door, and my breath hitches at what I see.

Dorian is lying on the floor, covered in blood that must be his. My eyes move up to see the King smiling cruelly above him. He looks at me and winks.

“Did you really think you could kill me? I mean come on, slipping a potion into my mead? Amateur.” He unsheathes his sword and I do the same. This man will pay for what he’s done.

“You have taken everything from me. Everything! You took Matt, you took the institute, you took my freedom! And now you’ve gone and taken someone else too. Another innocent life - gone! You’re a monster!” I scream.

He puts a finger on his mouth, as if he is thinking, “yes, I suppose I am. Now, I could never beat you alone, could I? Guards!” Out of nowhere two dozen palace guards appear, arrows drawn.

I look into the King’s eyes. “You wanted to know what earth does?” He looks interested, “I’ll show you.”

I stamp a foot, and just as the guards release their arrows, I can feel my magic taking effect. My body begins to turn to stone. One last defense mechanism, and then I am a statute, nothing more.

As the stone reaches my head, I think one last time, I will be strong


I haven’t used my charmspeak in a very long time. I’m not sure it works, if I’m being completely honest. My heart thumps loudly as I walk toward the palace guards.

Stopping in front of them, I say with as much confidence as I can muster, “you will abandon your post here. You will walk toward my chambers instead. No questions.”

One guard laughs, “actually, we are going to walk away, and you are going to follow us, after telling your friend that the coast is clear.” I gulp. Suddenly there is a knife in my side. I get the message. Do it, or we’ll kill you. So when the guards walk away, I turn to Bella, and nod meekly, feeling the shame cover me.

I follow the guards, and realize that they are leading me to the dungeons. We stop in front of the door. The first guard opens it, “Get in.” He growls.

I stand tall and say, “no. I would rather die, then submit to you cowards.”

He shrugs and says, “Okay.” Before I can register what is happening, there is a knife in my gut, and an arrow in my neck. I scream as loud as I can, but I know that no one can hear me. No one will know how I died. No one will know that I sold out my friend and partner, probably sending her to her death. I will never get to apologize to everyone I’ve wronged. My thoughts are a frenzy as I sink to the floor in pain.

I can feel myself leaving. Feel myself drifting away slowly. Then I am gone.



I always thought I would die young. Mainly because I am practically incapable of keeping my mouth shut.

Looking back, that is exactly what got me here, lying in a pool of my own darn blood. Everything was going fine, we got in the castle, slipped the potion into his mead, but then the King had appeared, as if out of nowhere, and before I knew it, I was being impaled by his sword. I told Risi to run, told him that one of us has to live to run the apothecary, evoking a small chuckle from him. The King didn’t even notice the huge raven flying out his window, he was so focused on bathing in his glory of killing me.

“Okay, I get it.” I had said when he had appeared, “You’re very powerful, you could kill me right here, blah blah blah.”

Obviously that was the wrong thing to say, because, like I said, next thing I know, I was dying. If I’m being honest, It’s not like I’ve had the greatest life so far. I ran away at twelve, and was on the street for a year, before the owner of the apothecary took me in. For three years, everything was perfect. Then he died. Sometimes it feels like everyone leaves. Even if they didn’t choose to, you feel betrayed. So as I take my last breath, I desperately hope that no one feels that way about me.

**********150 YEARS LATER********

You’ll be happy to know that all ended well, for Morgenstern was later overthrown by the subjects of the kingdom. Dorian and Morgana were missed dearly, as was Bella. What became of Risi? He lived a long and healthy life, only meeting his demise when a small child stepped on him as a cockroach. Taedium soon became a land full of both Fae, and humankind, as it once was.

The people of Taedium often had celebrations, but the one being held today is special. It is the day our heroes sacrificed themselves for the greater good. It is also the day many believe is when Bella Eversio’s statue will be a statue no more.

Children, adults, Fae, human, black, white, everyone gathers in the courtyard, hoping to witness the resurrection of the girl who was once the most feared in the country. As the huge clock chimes twelve, everyone holds their breath.

Time seems to slow. The world, stops, and starts again, as the large statue beings to gain colour, the marble hair becoming as dark as night, the eyes blazing green. Bit by bit, the stone melts away, until it is not a stone, but Bella Eversio, in the flesh.

She smiles, “not getting rid of me that easily.” Cheering can be heard all the way from Elipeda, as young kids run up to her, hugging, and asking for autographs. She laughs, and plays with them all, until her eyes halt at one boy.

He waves shyly as he says, “my name is Risi Sperum. I’m named after one of my ancestors. Did you know him?”

Bella’s face breaks into a sad smile, “I did. He was one of the best people I ever knew.”

He looks down as he continues, “there’s a question, that he never got to ask you. It’s been passed down in my family so that if you ever came back we could ask you.” Bella nods gently, and Risi inhales deeply, “what does your name mean?”

Bella looks out into the crowd. All of these people, just for her. Waiting for her. For the first time, she feels a surge of happiness. When she turns back to Risi, there are tears brimming her eyes, and she says, “beautiful destruction.”

          —–THE END—–



not even gonna lie, Bella is based off Celaena Sardothian from the throne of glass series


Blizzcon 2016 predictions

Opening speech: Briefly touches on the VA strike, with a ambiguous pledge of support

World of Warcraft: Speak more on the Nighthold raid as well as a release date. Preview of 7.2. Any notable class changes such as to destruction warlocks, possibly hunters and explanations behind design decisions in classes.

Overwatch: Sombra (finally). Teaser / preview of potential maps, christmas holiday skins and maybe a short look at upcoming animated shorts in the Overwatch universe. Also talk about Symetra rework.

Diablo 3: New expansion with necromancer. Expansion will “have PvP”

SC2: More Nova single player missions

Hearthstone: New expansion in Gadgetzan (obvious).

Heroes of the Storm: 3 new heroes, one of which will be varian, 1 a “whacky” hero like TLV and Cho’gal was. New map, talk about design changes in heroes. 

relicmancer-deactivated20160326  asked:

Explain why everyone's cool with warlocks canonically

alright so here’s the thing

everyone is less cool than they seem with warlocks

but also, warlocks are like, doctors of demonology, they’re the world’s leading authority on the Legion, right after Demon Hunters, but Demon Hunters suck at paperwork and conversation

if you want to know how to kill a demon, you ask a Paladin.

but if you want to know what a demon is, or how to kill a demonic portal, or if a demon has a particular weakness, or where a certain kind of demon might be coming from,

warlocks are the people you call. you need experts if you wanna win.

…destruction warlocks are just fire mages who picked up a book on demonology once, but majored in pyromancy.

affliction warlocks are like… Lesser Nerds, among warlocks. They know “Word of Nausea” and “Curse of Sores On Your Butt” to get back at all the cool jocks who were mean to them and went on to join the Dalaran Cops and pick up a big purple shield

they too, know passably enough about what to do when a demon shows up, that it’s useful to have them around

it’s like a firefighter, except with zero charisma- they can solve a very specific problem in the most informed and effective way