The dark forest cracked beneath Seratha's boots. Hra'Zhul walked beside her, still thinking of the fight.
"You didn't have to kill so many Handorso," Hra'Zhul grumbled. "Even the tamed one?"
Seratha didn't even look at her. "Food for my brother. He eats too much sometimes."
That sentence almost made Hra'Zhul gasp. Her brother? She can't mean… No. It's not possible. Could she be talking about Luno? She kept her thoughts buried deep. I must tell Mog.
They exited the forest line. Before them stood the Grand Clan of the Zhul — the largest of the Thorork camps. Huts of bone, towers of tusk, banners fluttering in the foul wind.
Seratha stopped. "This is the great clan you spoke of?"
"Yes," Hra'Zhul said, keeping her eyes on the gates.
The orger guards blinked when they saw them. Then they saw the living Handorso under Seratha. They nearly fell over themselves.
"HRA'ZHUL RETURNS! RIDING A HANDORSO! SHE— SHE'S GOT THREE DEAD ONES IN TOW!"
The guards sounded the horns. Bolgen, the southern gate Thorork, was woken up.
"Blasted hells… what now?" He stormed toward the noise—then froze. Hra'Zhul. A cloaked woman. A Handorso. Three more Handorso corpses dragged behind the hunting party.
Not even the chieftain could catch one alive, he thought. She caught four.
"OPEN THE GATES!" Bolgen bellowed. "WAKE THE CHIEFTAINS. AND TELL THE HALL TO PREPARE. MOG MUST SEE THIS."
GRAND HALL OF MOG
Inside the throne hall of bone and fire, Mog sat before his generals discussing the next Elven campaign. The doors burst open.
"Bolgen?" Mog snapped. "This better be—"
"Your grace—Hra'Zhul has returned. She's brought a Handorso. Alive. With a cloaked woman. And three more slain."
The entire chamber stopped breathing.
"…Bring them in," Mog said.
THE WALK THROUGH THE HALL
The hunting party approached the great hall. Thororks poured out from all directions to watch. Mothers lifted younglings onto their shoulders. Even the Destorares—the elite red-armored Thorork warriors—stood on high alert.
Seratha walked calmly. The reins of the Handorso in her hand. The beast was tame. Docile.
Inside the Grand Hall, murals covered the stone walls—scenes of Luno and Luna fighting, their monstrous children watching in awe, learning the joy of war.
Seratha paused before one. "This must be my brother's ugly face," she said casually, staring at the depiction of Luno.
Everyone around her froze. But she just laughed and walked forward.
THE TRIAL
In the great hall, 130 Thorork chieftains sat in stone chairs. Four rows of Destorares stood in total silence. The moment was sacred.
The doors opened. Seratha entered. Beside her, Hra'Zhul walked proudly. Behind them, the hunting party dragged three blood-covered Handorso. Proof.
Hra'Zhul stepped forward and knelt.
"Horde leader Mog. Chieftains of the Clans. I, Hra'Zhul Ma of the Zhul Tribe, bring before you an honored guest. This… is Lady Luna."
The silence after her words felt like eternity. Then—
"What?"
"Impossible."
"She bears the name of a god—blasphemy?"
"She's not even that big."
Mog slammed his hand on his throne arm. The Destorares raised their spears, pointing them toward Seratha.
Mog rose.
"Speak. Is this a trick? Why use that name?"
Seratha didn't answer.
Instead, the sky turned black.
Thunder.
Lightning cracked through the heavens. The hall ceiling shook. A bolt smashed through the roof, striking the floor before the throne—burning it with crimson energy.
A portal tore open in front of the throne, lined with jagged lightning and dark red smoke.
Then a voice bellowed from the abyss:
"SISTER!! WHERE IS MY FOOD!?"
The air itself trembled.
Out stepped Vez'Ghar, massive and furious. Everyone went silent. Even the Destorares.
"You said you'd return with food an hour ago!"
Seratha didn't flinch. "I brought your food. But I had company."
Vez'Ghar looked around, sneering at the Thororks. Then he appeared before one of the female chieftains in a blink.
"Who are these tiny things?"
"I am… Lea'Zhul. Of the Zhul Clan," she said, shaking.
Seratha looked to Hra'Zhul. "Didn't know you had a sister."
Then Vez'Ghar snarled and reappeared in front of Seratha, fangs bared. "I won't ask again. Where is my food?"
Seratha snapped something in the Abyssal tongue—only Vez'Ghar and the lesser demon nobles understood. In an instant, two cloaked demons lifted two Handorso corpses and tossed them toward Vez'Ghar. He caught them like toys.
He turned and roared in Abyssal: "BEGIN COOKING!"
Four more cloaked figures appeared and dragged the carcasses into the portal.
"I must discipline my sister first," Vez'Ghar growled.
He snapped his fingers. A dark blade formed in his hand.
Seratha summoned a silver metal staff.
The clash was brutal. The entire hall trembled.
After the fifth strike, as both prepared killing blows, four more cloaked figures appeared and blocked them with eerie speed, separating the gods by force.
Vez'Ghar hovered above the floor, eyes glowing.
"Don't make me wait long again, sister Luna."
Seratha, floating in the air too, laughed. "Don't make me spank you again, brother Luno."
Everyone in the hall froze.
Luno? Luna?
The storm vanished. The roof sealed itself. The blood on the floor disappeared. The crimson glow faded.
The Thororks were stunned.
Some dropped to their knees. Others stood motionless. Whispers broke out:
"It's true…"
"They are the gods."
"They walk again."
Mog stepped down from his throne and knelt.
"Lady Luna… please forgive our insults. We did not know."
She smirked. "Apology accepted. My brother is quite the temperamental one."
Then Lea'Zhul quickly spoke. "Lady Luna, would you do us the honor of dining with the Zhul clan?"
Before Hra'Zhul could answer, Seratha replied, "Of course. Like-minded people who understand my brother's appetite are hard to find."
Mog grunted. "I'll attend as well."
Everyone wanted her favor now.
ACROSS THE WORLD
In the ancient forest of Loryndor, the Elves and the angel Aurielos felt the surge of darkness.
"That storm…" Aurielos said, narrowing his eyes. "Black magic. That wasn't natural."
He looked to the ritual circle. "We must act before the Thororks bring back the demons of the Abyss."
He turned to his elven lieutenants. "Prepare a raid. Tonight, we investigate the Thorork stronghold. Find out what they've summoned."
BACK IN KORRAK'S REALM
In the twisted pocket dimension-palace, Vez'Ghar returned with the meat. Korrak sat on his obsidian throne, watching the scrying flames flicker with images from the Thorork halls.
"Everything goes exactly as I intended," he said. "They kneel. The gods walk. The Elves panic."
Vez'Ghar tossed the meat to the demon chefs and licked blood from his claws.
Korrak turned to the shadows.
"Tell Diablo," he said. "The war begins soon. And if the angels think they can interfere, they'll see what a true Dreadbound Lord can do."
From the dark, a whisper came:
"Yes, my lord."