Chapter 747

Chapter 747: The Voice of Souls

Stones burning with green flame rolled down like lumps of coal. Imps scrambled to claim their shares based on how many Soul Shards their master provided.

Jesse picked up two stones and tossed one to Saenor. "Do imps truly grow from these?"

"What else?" Saenor opened its mouth and swallowed the stone whole. Its belly swelled with glowing firelight before dimming bit by bit.

"Master, give me the other one too…"

The imp raised its skinny hands, impatient for another. Jesse had considered keeping one to taste, but Saenor rarely showed such craving. He gave it up.

After swallowing both stones, Saenor clumsily crawled onto Jesse’s shoulder. Clutching Jesse’s cloak, it whispered, "Open your pack, Master. Let me sleep inside… Tomorrow I’ll try casting a language curse on you. Deal?"

"Glad you remember why I fed you that stone," Jesse said, opening his pack.

"Course." The imp hopped right in.

Warlocks reactivated the binding circle. Grumbling, Kallez was pinned down again.

Leaving the Storm Altar for their tent, everything now depended on Saenor. Jesse hoped swallowing the healing stone truly strengthened it as claimed, granting power for more spells.

Though Jesse suspected the imp invented this excuse to trick him into demon-transforming healing stones, strengthening Saenor’s fel magic wasn’t harmful. Access to healing stones also meant progress in studying demons or warlock magic.

This opportunity also persuaded everyone to release the Doomlord once.

Despite Jesse’s worries, the giant hadn’t caused trouble. Like Saenor said, powerful demons cherished their lives—controlled by their true name, their fate was sealed.

At dinner, Jesse nibbled salted fish from Lakeshire with bread crumbs. Wiping his hands, he pulled out Saenor’s notes on Ered’ruin, comparing them word by word with Dethmoora’s report.

He hadn’t asked Kallez to translate every word, so only general meanings emerged. Still, patterns surfaced:

*Voices of souls. Weapons hidden by mages. Traces of elves. Magical enemies. Deep green giant wall.*

He knew about the hidden weapons. Guardian Skywynn of the Council of Tirisfal—Aegwynn’s teacher—had hunted down Ulthalesh’s former master, the Eredar Necromancer Sathel.

Unable to destroy the weapon, Skywynn hid it where none could find it. That was the site Dethmoora and Medivh’s treasure hunters sought.

Mentioning the weapon-hiding mage meant this report tracked Dethmoora’s progress. What was the deep green giant wall? A literal wall? The Greymane Wall in Silverpine?

But the Greymane Wall wasn’t finished yet. Why would Dethmoora note it? Titan ruins in Northrend? Yet where stood a deep green wall…?

*Magical enemies*—human mages? Elves? It mentioned elf traces earlier.

*Elves. Deep green wall. Magical enemies.* Jesse felt clues brushing his grasp. He took a deep breath, picked out unsolved keywords, shuffled their order, and planned to question the Doomlord tomorrow.

At dawn on the Storm Altar, Kallez strained upright upon seeing Jesse, only to be crushed by magical bonds. "Release me!" he snarled. "I broke no rules! I obeyed! How long must this circle hold me?!"

"If you serve the Burning Legion, you know Azeroth," Jesse said. "Holy Light followers swarm here, eager to purge demons. A succubus minion could turn invisible, but—"

"Free me! Let this altar restore my power! I’ll slaughter them all!" Kallez rumbled.

"Spare me the explanations." Jesse produced last night’s vocabulary list. "Translate these. Few words this time."

"Why chase these words? My patience thins!" Kallez snapped. "If you seek to read Doomguard records, show me the originals! I’ll tell you what they say! Do you hold scrolls from another Ered’ruin lord? Found something in Dethmoora’s lair?"

"A demon outmatched in patience by a mortal?" Jesse’s voice turned icy. "Do your task. Silence the chatter."

Kallez shot back, "Easy for you, soft-skinned meatling! You prance freely while I’m caged in this open prison, motionless!"

"Best grow accustomed." Jesse eyed the list. "What means *Valosk*?"

"Show me the script. Your mouth butchers our ancient tongue," Kallez grumbled.

"You comprehend me," Jesse flared. "I’ve not mocked your Common—guttural as a boar’s endless flatulence, fouler than jerky in my pack. Drop this pointless struggle. Tell me: What means *Valosk*?"

Nearby, Molofeel shifted uneasily at Jesse’s fury. She glanced over, then told the Doomlord, "My master seldom rages, Lord Kallez. Curb your tongue. Remember your place under his control."

Kallez eyed the Sayaad, then the circle at his feet. "The voice of souls—in Demonic or Common—lacks any brief word. It’s the feeble noise of souls being devoured, forced to accept their wretched fate. Heh."

"*Valosk*?" Jesse pressed.

"Yes," Kallez confirmed.