"Why not speak openly, sister?" A gale of wind, a sandstorm howled through the air and came to swirl before Willow, "Why not speak to me as an equal, with your mortal voice? Are you ashamed to speak where these mortals can hear?" Within the sandstorm whorled a nebulous scene, things Willow would remember from her early youth, "And I play only so dangerous a game as necessary." The sand sprayed high, funneled upwards and spread across the tightly closed roof of the Pit, "Behold..." Sha'tris voice rolled like thunder through the entire pit and curled around everyone there, "you could stop me, but to what end? The Keep already falls." Vision after vision of destruction and despair played out overhead on a moving screen of beige grains, "You are no more a danger to me than the Aethyr of Whispin is, for you are born of power, of magic, we are sisters, you and I. And what affects your sister, affects you. Nargus knows what I am now...and if he takes the throne back, how long can I stand against him? How long can I hold against his mate, his daughter? How long before he come seeking the deaths of those allied to Araxmarr?"

A rain of golden grains then cascaded down upon those below, "In the Keeps darkest hour of need, Willow, Morwen, Cayde... Salador... YOU and the Lost Legion will be a much, much needed surprise. The final battle approaches. They must be brought to the fullness of their awareness, their skills... their very lives depend on it, as does my own."

The ground in the Pit began to shake, and sand began to well up, sift downward, and in the center of the Pit rose the Tower of the NeutralLands, the Dark Tower, the seat of all that was black and cruel about Sha'tris. As the sands melted, the Legion was revealed to be standing, fully armed and armoured, just as they'd been the day they'd fallen prey to the temptations of the Tower and the evil that dwelled within.

"Look to the Legion for entrance, look to one another for redemption, for only together can the Tower be mastered."

With those words, the illusion was complete. Cayde, Morwen and Salador stood before the Tower, a scene which was so terribly wrong, for Sha'tris hadn't cast an illusion at all, but brought the Tower to the Pit itself. No market rings surrounded the towering edifice, no bustling crowd or shouting harkers broke the silence. Only the sound of wind through tall grass and endless plains where no sun shone, no moons hung, broke the stillness, and the horizon itself was little more than a smudge of green grass meeting blue sky, far in the impossible distance.

Willow did not like being called sister. Yet her soul knew that what was said was true. They were sisters in the sense that has been stated. But to hear it expressed caused a chill in her soul. She didn’t want to deal with the power that she had within her. She didn’t want it to surface, not surface at least the way it was in Sha’tris. No, not this way. The magic within her churned to spring forth and combine with Sha’tris. It took all the control she had to stand there and stare out and watch the games play out before her.

She would hold herself thus, she would stand strong by Drake, no one else and only where he directed. No one else. Turning she stared at Sha’tris, “You wish me to speak aloud. Okay. You call me sister. Your are right in the sense of what we process. The magic, but here it ends. There is a difference. There is the human part of me. That part which holds me to Drake. There is that difference.” She stared out at her knight and became silent. Watching. It had taken a lot to concede, to agree that yes, they were sisters in the sense of the magic.

"That's more like it, sister." Sha'tris had returned, a feminine figure of ever shifting sand, and was seated beside Willow. "These are not games, dearest Willow, but tests." Willow's thoughts were as an open book on the woman's face, "Tests are meant to be difficult, to prove what a mortal is made of, what they are capable of, where they will fail, and when. Do not consider this a game, but a proving ground. Watch... already, your Knight is aware of the test, he knows he must succeed, and will be stronger for it. Ah, now, this group? They are just beginning the test. Let us watch, and hope they pass, shall we?"
 

Willow felt as if her heart had been pierced as she stood watching Drake, feeling his every emotion as he pulled from her magic. He would destroy many in this action but in her soul she knew it would not be enough. History would not, could not be changed. Tears rolled down her face as she felt his blindness, his frustration as Silverwing headed towards the sorcerer.

If history had changed she would not be standing there. Her voice barely audible, “You will get your revenge my love, in time.” Her body shook as she silently cried, tears streaming from her eyes.

“This borders on cruelty Sha’tris.” With an oath, “May you feel the same pain, may you truly understand what Drake has just gone through for a second time! I don’t care if we are a part of the force you need to win your battles…this was cruel.”

Willow turned and glared at the being next to her…, “We may be sisters, but thank the gods I do not have the cruelty, the obsession to be the only one that is right like you do. The are other ways to get what you need without ripping at their souls.”

"Cruel? What you behold, Willow, is the crucible, the heart of the forging fire. Would it be more cruel, to open this arena and cast them out into the battle that rages? You do not know what stands outside this pit." Sha'tris' head angled to the side in a shower of golden sand, "Behold, Willow. I show you this Keep as it has become, as this entire would will be, should the Emperor lose this stronghold... and to keep it, he will need your help, and the help of those I now temper with pain and fear."

The walls of the pit shimmered, became transparent, and revealed the Keep, burnt and smoldering under the light of two moons. The scent of the ever burning funeral pyres filled the arena, and the bodies of those yet to burn were already bloating from the heat and decay that was setting in.

"There are children dead. There are parents lost, lovers maimed. The war machine that is Nargus now has Mira. He has the Illinsaad from his son, Akavian, and will soon have Mira's. He seeks to regain the rest of his shattered soul. The Emperor is still blind, his sight taken by Galain Alcarin. His kind now know that, and they smell defeat on the Horizon." As the scene of the Keep appeared, the cracking, popping sound of stone collapsing echoed through the stands and yet another tower began to teeter, then slowly drop. It crumbled in on itself with a billow of dust and soot, "Nargus now holds the NeutralLands, unknown to those in it, and he has possession through his mate of the Silver forest. The Diirlathe stands by sheer force of will, and the Humans will be quick and easy meal for the Blacks under Nargus' command. Cruel? You do not know the meaning of the word, Willow. You know the dictionary definition. You know it as it is applicable in YOUR life. What will happen if I release these within the Pit, untempered, and before the time is right, will give you a new meaning of the word, and Willow, sister, I do. not. want. that."