Power does not corrupt. It exposes.
Unknown King, who fell to the Void.
Azeroth was at the edge of a shattered moon, looking out towards a black sun that revolved in the opposite direction. Pieces of shattered kingdoms and debris of destroyed worlds churned about him in the midst of a sea of shining purple mist the Outer Realm, where time itself was twisted and death reigned not.
Tenebrum throbbed at his flank, murmuring voices of the dead, of kings long past.
He had not aged since Etherya's fall. Time did not exist here. Pain lingered, but it was dulled like a shadow that always hung about him.
The pendant from his mother still radiated a faint light, giving off heat in a world colder than death.
But now, he was not just living.
He was training.
The entity that had welcomed him was simply Veyrith, the Whispering Mentor. He was a self-proclaimed former king who had relinquished his world to save others from the all-devouring hunger of the Void. Alive and dead at the same time, Veyrith traversed dimensions, collecting rare souls such as Azeroth souls too powerful to die, yet too tainted to come back.
Their destination:
The Void Academy of Forgotten Kings.
It was no storybook academy, no pennants flying, no classrooms, no soft lectures or warm libraries. It was a ruin atop a floating skull the shape of a continent, drifting through the Void, guarded by thinking shadows and ancient machines made of dead stars.
Each "student" was a creature ripped from their world when it was destroyed.
These were princes.
Some were tyrants.
There were monsters masquerading as men.
But they were all royalty of a kind and they had all fallen.
Azeroth was the youngest. The most reserved. But not the weakest.
His first day had him hurled into a crater filled with arched pillars of voidglass. No reason. No rules.
Just one instruction:
"Survive."
From the shadows came a monstrosity. Elephant-sized, plated in bone armor, with eyes aflame with red rage. Its name: Vel'Kar, the Trial Maw.
The other kings gazed down from above, perched on thrones of floating memory.
Veyrith simply crossed his arms.
Learn to kill or be forgotten," he gasped.
Azeroth was solitary.
No armor.
No spells.
Tenebrum alone.
The beast charged.
He moved.
Instinct and not training controlled his sword at first. Void energy burst out from the soles of his feet, propelling him upwards into the air.
The Trial Maw thrashed impossibly quickly and struck out a bone tentacle.
Azeroth came down hard. Ribs cracked. Blood on his lips.
The other kings laughed.
But he stood again.
Not because he believed he would win but because he was not going to give up again.
Tenebrum pulsated.
"Feed me."
Azeroth closed his eyes. He recalled the sound of Etherya's screams, the lifeless hand of his mother, the falling sky. The pain crystallized. And then he let it go.
Black fire erupts from the sword.
He moved like a shadow flickering, vanishing, reappearing behind the creature.
One slash. And another. And a scream.
Not his.
Vel'Kar cried out as his arm fell. A third strike sliced a line along its cheek. The voidfire spread not just consuming flesh, but memory, erasing it from existence.
With one last scream, the creature fell. Its form dissolved into stardust.
Silence.
Then, thunderous applause from one voice Veyrith.
You've killed your first memory," he said.
Azeroth gasped. "What… was that?
Monsters born of your own nightmares. They challenge your value.
"Was that real?"
No. Worse. It was personal.
Days or whatever constituted days in the Void came and went in savage training.
Azeroth fought warlords from galaxies beyond sight. He learned runes inscribed on the bones of dead titans. He learned to forge voidflame not only into weapons, but into shields, wings, even whispers that could steal a man's mind.
He wasn't alone anymore.
Of the other kings, three were especially notable:
Kael'Ruin, Blade King of Ashen Worlds whose kingdom died by treachery. He battled with twin daggers made of suns' hearts.
Lirien, Queen of Glass and Thunder elegant, cruel, and brilliant. She ruled a realm where storms thought.
Prince Thorne, laughing a mad genius who claimed to have burned his own kingdom to avoid prophecy.
They tested him. Fought him. Mocked him.
But none could break him.
And that made them… cautious.
One "night," Veyrith invited him secretly to the Hall of Whispers a lengthy corridor where whispers of dead monarchs recited their last words forever.
You're evolving, Veyrith said. "Do you sense it?
I'm getting stronger.
You're getting emptier. That's the cost.
Azeroth glared. "Am I becoming you?
No, Veyrith whispered. "You're becoming something worse."
He was about to inquire what that was, when alarms went off.
Not sirens. Not bells.
But a scream from the Void itself.
"A realm is collapsing. A gateway is opening."
Veyrith's eyes opened in astonishment.
"Azeroth, with me. This is your true test."
They materialized at the Sundering Gate, a portal that linked the academy to a decaying dimension.
On the other hand:
A fragment of Etherya,.
His residence.
Twisted, broken, but real.
He saw the golden spires half buried in voidsand. The broken statues. The shriek of a girl young, terrified fleeing from something wrapped in corrupted royal armor.
"Is that."
"Your sister," answered Veyrith.
Azeroth's heart stopped.
"She's alive?"
"For now."
"But… how?"
"She has been kidnapped. Concealed in a space between worlds. The High Chancellor was not aware. But now the space is unraveling. You have one opportunity."
Azeroth looked at the gate.
He wasn't supposed to return yet. He wasn't trained properly. But it didn't matter. He leapt. And then, on the other hand, time returned as a crashing wave. Gravity reasserted itself.
Pain, smell, cold wind all rushed in. He landed hard, cracking the ground. The creature turned. Its face was eerily familiar. A combination of royal blood and void corruption.
The Voidborn Chancellor. "I knew you'd arrive," it sneered, its voice greasy. "You're late, my prince." Azeroth lifted Tenebrum, his sister's scream fading into the distance.
"I'm not your prince" he said.
"I'm your king."