A/N

So, it's another one of those oneshots, where I take the (gag) lines of a Heroes of the Storm/StarCraft/Warcraft unit/hero, and apply them to narrative format. And in this case, I chose the ascendant. A choice justified entirely on the premise that a) Alarak is frickin' awesome, b) I haven't toyed with writing for Alarak yet, and c) Alarak is frickin' awesome. :)

Oh, and so is/was Legacy of the Void, so there's that I guess.

Ascension

"What if our entire universe was just a game played by beings of incredible power?"

"I find that very unlikely."

"And then were beings watching those beings play their games instead of actually playing the games themselves."

"I find that even more unlikely."

"And then those beings made even more games, more universes, leaving it up to chance, but seeking to balance the-"

"You're twitching. Perhaps you should limit your terrazine intake."

Ji'nara's eyes flashed. "To the Void with you," she slurred

"Perhaps I will. I would relish the chance to strike down a false god in his own domain."

Ji'nara stumbled, before collapsing down onto the ground, near the edge of one of the Pits of Sacrifice. And Alarak chuckled – existentialism. He loved seeing Ji'nara squirm as she processed that everything she knew was a lie. That the Tal'darim had served a false god for the entirety of their existence. And that she'd likely die before either Amon or his erstwhile children succeeded.

And she was first ascendant now too. How delightful.

"You should thank me," Alarak said. He looked up at the night sky, and the sky looked back, mocking him with its light. "I've set you free." He knelt down by his inferior. "Isn't that oh so precious, Ji'nara? Freedom? Truth?"

"We are bound by the Chain of Ascension," she intoned.

"Nonsense of course. Cloth for younglings, as they wrap themselves in lies, so that truth's touch cannot yet reach them."

"But through Rak'Shir we find ascension."

His thoughts drifted towards Artanis, toying with the idea of taking the Death Fleet under his own command and heading straight to Aiur, rather than bother with all this terran and Purifier nonsense. It would mean more lives lost, but if he had to endure that fool prattle on about the Daelaam, and unity, and whatever else that fool believed, then perhaps the Death Fleet would be turned on the Spear instead.

"My thoughts are guided by the terrazine mists," Ji'nara droned on.

Alarak helped her to her feet. He had better things to do than contemplate the merits of treachery. One of them was ensuring that his second was actually capable of carrying out his will.

"Get your hands off me."

"Look into the pit, Ji'nara."

Her eyes began to darken – terrazine withdrawal was kicking in.

"I said look into the pit."

To his surprise, she obliged. Or at least, her head lopped down towards the depths of Slayn.

"That is what awaits you," Alarak said. "If you fail, death will come for you. If you betray me, I'll make you wish you were at Amon's mercy. If you think the Tal'darim can endure yet another Rak'Shir, then I will make Ma'lash himself seem merciful."

"And you utter this…why?"

"To remind you that the only chance you have of staying alive before the next moonrise is to understand that you are now first ascendant. That I am now highlord. That there are more fools in our ranks who still question me." Alarak glanced to the edge of the duelling grounds. "Since time is short, I would appreciate your help in silencing dissenters, and reminding them that the Chain still binds us."

"A Chain that links to Amon."

"A Chain that links to Amon," Alarak repeated. He clenched his fist. "Until we sever it. Make no mistake, the Chain will remain. Only its master will change."

"One such as yourself."

"Not such as myself, me. Until I die, or you challenge me. But I think it best if we wait until after we ensure that our people survive, no? And believe it or not, the people on the Spear have grown very fond of me. They'd just be heartbroken if I were to leave them now."

Ji'nara was starting to get her footing back. Yet Alarak wondered if she actually believed him, given the Breath of Creation's haze in her mind. They weren't friends – they never had been, and never would be. He knew that if she survived, she'd likely challenge him one day. But that was a long way off.

"Aiur has fallen," Ji'nara murmured. "Shakuras has fallen."

"The voices of the Khalai sing loud, I see."

"And Slayn too, we leave." She lowered her gaze. "You would have us plough headlong into the dark."

"Better than trying to escape its reach. Look up at the sky, Ji'nara. The dark is everywhere."

She remained silent. And Alarak let silence wash over him. The silence of Slayn, of a people turned against their master. Perhaps the last silence he'd receive in a long time. Perhaps before embracing silence of another kind.

"Immortal," she murmured. "The Khalai call their walkers as such, do they not?"

"One type of them."

"Immortal," she repeated, laughing softly. "And yet they too, can fall." She met his gaze. "Can any immortal fall, Alarak?"

"We shall find out."

It was the only answer he would give. And it was the only order he hoped would be required. And hopefully, it would be the only time such a question would be asked.

For he had seen through the mists. Had seen the truths the Breath of Creation brought to him. He, Alarak, Highlord of the Tal'darim, had seen Him.

And truth, he knew, was a very dangerous thing.