With things taken care of in Stormheim and Eyir and Helya left to settle their differences civilly, Harry finally has a chance to breathe for what feels like the first time in a LONG time. In doing so, he also has a chance to think however… and getting lost in his own thoughts is both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, he probably needed this time to get his head on straight. On the other hand, it would have been so much easier to just continue pushing forward, ignoring what was behind him in favor of what was right in front of him.
 
But easier didn’t mean ‘right’. And what was necessary was very rarely easy. In the end, with a bit of time to rest, relax, and just be alone, Harry came to a plain and simple conclusion… he still loved both Jaina Proudmoore and Sylvanas Windrunner. They were perhaps the two most important women in this entire world to him, and he wasn’t going to lose them. Not even if they both hated his guts.
 
However, he didn’t think that they really hated him. And he wanted to believe that he could still mend broken fences and repair the bridges burnt between him and them. It would just take a little elbow grease.
 
At least with Sylvanas he had a pretty good idea for how to make her happy. Sending some more Val’kyr her way in order to allay the concerns and fears she had for her people was simple enough in the end. Of course, Harry wasn’t willing to give the Banshee Queen everything she’d wanted. She’d wanted complete and utter control, dominion over Eyir and her Val’kyr. But Harry couldn’t let that happen. Unrestricted access would be disastrous to the world in the long run.
 
That was why the Val’kyr that Harry was sending to Sylvanas would still be technically under his command, not hers. They would answer to the Banshee Queen, but only to a point. Likewise, they would even raise some as Forsaken… but only to a point. Harry didn’t know if it was possible for the Undead and the Living to truly coexist on Azeroth in the long term, but for Sylvanas’ sake, he wanted to try.
 
Hopefully the olive branch would be well-received by the wrathful Banshee Queen, but only time would tell. Still, Harry had a good feeling about it. He fully believed Sylvanas would come around once she knew that he wasn’t actually leaving her out in the cold. He would never truly abandon her, and that was what this peace offering was supposed to convey.
 
… Jaina on the other hand, Harry found himself a lot less certain of. His anger over how she’d manipulated him into staying on Azeroth all this time… it had cooled significantly, he could admit. To the point that he was more than ready to make up with her by now. But would she be willing or ready to make up with him? Or did he need to find some sort of peace offering to gift her with as well?
 
He needed more information. It was funny, because as much as he loved Jaina and as close as they’d gotten, Harry really didn’t know as much about the powerful female Archmage as he felt he should have. They’d been so busy working together to make sure that Azeroth had a future, that they knew practically nothing about each other’s pasts.
 
He was ill-equipped to get back in touch with Jaina as things stood right now, but maybe… maybe he just needed more information. If he could gird himself with knowledge, then he could make an informed choice. And one thing Harry DID know about Jaina Proudmoore was that she’d lost her father.
 
Lifting his hand, where the Resurrection Stone is set upon a ring that one of his fingers bares, Harry presses his lips tightly together for a brief moment before twisting the stone and calling upon Daelin Proudmoore. There’s a brief pause, and then the spirit of Kul Tiras’ Lord Admiral swirls into existence before him, blinking owlishly as he looks around himself.
 
“… What is this? Where am I?”
 
Harry has shrouded himself in a veil, keeping his true identity hidden save for his emerald eyes glowing out from the darkness he’s currently coated in. Daelin has no clue who he is, but that doesn’t mean he needs to know. No… it’s better to keep some things under wraps, he figures.
 
“This is your temporary resurrection, Daelin Proudmoore. It will last for as long as I see fit, for I am the Master of Death.”
 
The spirit’s eyes narrow at that, his empty hands grasping for a cutlass and pistol that aren’t at his sides. In the end, the Lord Admiral’s jaw clenches as his hands curl into helpless fists.
 
“And what does the Master of Death want from me, exactly?”
 
Harry ponders that question for a moment, before finally deciding on an answer.
 
“Information. Tell me everything, Daelin Proudmoore. Tell me about your life… and your death.”
 
Compelled not just by the Resurrection Stone, but also by Harry’s dominion over it and the other Deathly Hallows, Daelin Proudmoore begins to speak. And Harry listens. He doesn’t interrupt until the man finally gets to the point where he starts his family, and soon mentions having a daughter. There, Harry finally interjects.
 
“Tell me more about this daughter of yours. This… Jaina Proudmoore.”
 
There’s a helpless fury in Daelin Proudmoore’s eyes as he speaks and speaks. He talks in length about Jaina and her early years, as well as her tutelage in Dalaran. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to tell the ‘Master of Death’ anything. Harry almost considers letting Daelin know who he really is, but that doesn’t seem like a good idea. And in the end, it turns out to be the right call.
 
When Daelin Proudmoore describes how his daughter ‘betrayed’ him, Harry can’t help but be a little disgusted. From the deceased Lord Admiral’s point of view, maybe Jaina was a traitor. But Harry had more than just Daelin’s narrow field of vision to go off of. The Lord Admiral had come to Kalimdor with intentions of committing a genocide. Having quite a few lovers among the Horde, lovers who might not have made it into his arms if not for the Horde’s protection, Harry couldn’t abide by the genocide of the orcs. No matter what had come after.
 
Garrosh’s crimes against Theramore might have seemed like they retroactively justified Daelin’s actions, but Harry didn’t agree with such a short-sighted viewpoint.
 
Still, he learns a lot about Jaina from her father’s spirit. He learns just how much she’s lost over the course of her life. It’s just been one constant string of loss for her. A lover in the form of Arthas. A mentor in the form of Antonidas. A father in the form of Daelin. A city in the form of Theramore. And every time she was expected to be the bigger person. She was expected to simply turn around and continue being the leader everyone needed her to be.
 
He couldn’t really be surprised that she’d latched onto him so strongly after the destruction of Theramore. He was the first person she’d seen and the closest living being for her to attach herself to. Given the amount of trauma Jaina had suffered over the course of her life, Harry understood her motivations a lot better now.
 
She didn’t want him to go because she didn’t think she could take one more loss. And yet, in trying to hold onto him so tightly, he’d wound up slipping right through her fingers anyways. Now, no doubt, she wrestled with whether she’d lost him for good or not. He needed to go to her. He needed to-
 
“CAW! CAW!”
 
Harry blinks as a fluttering raven, clearly magical in nature, makes itself known. The thing is literally glowing with arcane power, making it clear it was created for a specific purpose. As it circles overhead, Harry lifts an eyebrow and then raises his arm up to give it a perch. The magical raven flies down and lands on his arm, before lifting one of its legs in his direction to show off a small scroll.
 
Quickly retrieving the scroll and unfurling it, Harry reads the missive within quickly. It’s from Khadgar and he’s asking Harry to investigate the center of the Broken Isles, a territory known as Suramar. Apparently they’d caught wind of an encrypted message hidden within the magical waves of energy that were constantly emanating from Suramar City. Khadgar claimed with confidence that it was a cry for help and one that needed to be answered as soon as possible, because it just might be what they needed to start figuring out the Legion’s plan.
 
Admittedly, Harry could see Khadgar’s point. He just wished that the Archmage had found someone else for the job. And yet… Harry knew better. He knew that if Khadgar was sending this his way, then it was because the other man fully believe Harry was the best person for this mission. And there was one upside to all of this… he could leave everyone else behind in Stormheim with the excuse that he needed to travel swiftly and incognito, allowing him to shed all of the women currently obsessed with calling him ‘Master’.
 
That said, it did mean his conversation with Jaina would have to be pushed back somewhat. Rather regrettable, but once again needs must.  Harry… Harry would have to make sure that Jaina knew he was still with her in spirit, if not in truth. Literally.
 
Conjuring up a quick message back to Khadgar to let him know he’s on it, Harry gives it to the magical raven summon and watches as the glowing bird departs in a flash of arcane energy. Then, he looks to the spirit of Daelin Proudmoore.
 
“I’m sending you to your daughter, Daelin Proudmoore. You are to obey her as you would me. Aid her in whatever way she sees fit and let her know that I will be with her as soon as I possibly can.”
 
Daelin tilts his head to the side, seemingly torn between his distrust and distaste of Harry, and the idea of going to his daughter’s side. For all that he’d described Jaina as a traitor, Harry could also hear the longing in the deceased Lord Admiral’s voice. He didn’t hate his daughter. He wasn’t even truly angry with her. Even now, even after all that had happened, Daelin Proudmoore still loved Jaina with all his heart, even in death.
 
“… And shall I tell her that the Master of Death sent me?”
 
His derisive tone makes it clear what he thinks of that idea, but truthfully… Harry has to admit he’s right. Jaina wouldn’t think much of her father’s spirit showing up with that sort of declaration on his lips, and while Sylvanas knew about Harry’s title, Jaina still didn’t.
 
“… Tell her Harry sent you. Now go.”
 
He throws out those last two words before the spirit can respond, watching as Daelin instead closes his mouth and clenches his jaw before disappearing, heading on his way to Jaina. Harry sighs and stretches for a moment, hoping he’s making the right call. Then, he turns on the spot and apparates from Stormheim to Suramar. It was time to start hunting for the creator of this encrypted message.
 
-x-X-x-
 
As it turns out, finding them… or rather her, is actually easier than Harry anticipated. After latching onto the encrypted message’s magical signature, he just has to find something similar… and he does in the form of arcane echoes that lead him away from Suramar City itself and over to some ruins a fair distance away. There, it’s not long before he’s able to pinpoint the source of the magic.
 
“Come out. You called for help… and here I am.”
 
Slowly, hesitantly, a female elf pulls herself out into the open. She’s clearly seen better days, and Harry watches as she holds her side… wounded, obviously. But not just wounded… no, its an old wound that hasn’t had any time to heal. She hasn’t been able to treat it because she’s clearly been trying to survive all this time. In fact, she looks like she’s on the verge of becoming a Night Elf version of a High Elf Wretched.
 
“You… you received my message? I hope that means you have some passing power to you, or else you will not survive long in these lands…”
 
Quirking up the corner of his mouth, Harry finds himself a little delighted by her haughtiness. She’s clearly not used to being at a disadvantage in any social interactions. That said, he’s well used to arrogant women. And he’s not offended in the slightest. She wants to know how powerful he is? Sure, he’ll show her.
 
Pulling out his wand, he points it at the elven woman. Her dimly glowing eyes widen and she stiffens in alarm, but it’s too late for her to do anything. The silent spell he’s just cast washes over her… and her body straightens up noticeably as the pain in her old wound ebbs away and the injury she’s sporting completely heals in mere moments.
 
Twirling his wand around his fingers, Harry can’t help but grin.
 
“The name is Harry… and yes, I’d say I have some passing power.”
 
Eyes wide, the elven woman shivers for a moment… before scowling at him.
 
“You! You should not be so careless! You will have attracted-!”
 
Before she can finish the sentence, feral, animalistic cries split the air and a moment later they’re beset on all sides by the ACTUAL Night Elf versions of High Elven Wretched.
 
“Withered! Run!”
 
But even as the woman turns to flee, Harry just rolls his eyes and catches her with a simple charm that sticks her feet to the ground. As she struggles against that ineffectually, Harry pulls out the Elder Wand with his other hand and begins casting, easily disabling the Withered even as they come pouring into the ruins, all trying to take a piece out of him and his new friend.
 
Between two wands and Harry’s magic, it’s easy enough to send the creatures packing. And he’s even nice enough to leave them all alive, while also setting up wards that will keep them from coming closer again. All of this takes about five minutes, by the end of which the elven woman he’s come here to save has stopped trying to free herself from his spell and is just staring at him, mouth agape in wonder.
 
Lifting an eyebrow in her direction, Harry gives her a wicked grin.
 
“You know, when someone introduces themselves to you, it’s usually common courtesy to introduce yourself back.”
 
As expected, the polite reminder makes the elven woman flush in response. She’s definitely the sort who has spent most of her existence in some sort of noble court, and only recently found herself in such dire straits. Needing to be reminded of such things as common courtesy clearly embarrasses her, but she ducks her head all the same.
 
“I… yes, apologies. My name is Thalyssra. I am… I was First Arcanist to Grand Magistrix Elisande.”
 
Harry nods, filing those names away even as he peers at Thalyssra closely.
 
“Those creatures… you’re on your way to becoming one of them, aren’t you? Unless you get some help fast.”
 
Thalyssra scowls but can’t deny his words. In the end, she nods her head in agreement.
 
“They are the Withered. And yes, I am… I will become one of the Withered soon if nothing is done. I need a steady source of mana to avoid such a terrible fate. And admittedly, such things are in short supply out here in these wilds.”
 
Well, if she needs a steady source of mana, she’s called in the right man he supposes. But Harry doesn’t say that. Not yet. Instead, he hums for a moment before gesturing to her. The gesture frees her feet from the spell he cast that stuck them to the ground.
 
“Please… tell me about yourself and your people. Tell me… everything.”
 
He might not have the same level of control over Thalyssra that he did Daelin Proudmoore, but then he doesn’t really need to. The First Arcanist is EAGER to spill the beans. Her jaw clenches and she looks off towards the large city seen in the far distance before beginning to speak.
 
“Ten thousand years ago, Suramar City stood as the jewel of the Night Elf Empire. And then… our Queen betrayed us. The Legion came, beckoned to our shores by Azshara’s open arms. She welcomed them to her, bringing them forth from the terrible darkness they called home.”
 
Grimacing, it’s clear Thalyssra doesn’t enjoy recounting this tale. But her voice is nevertheless filled with unquestionable passion and an unquenched thirst for revenge as she continues on.
 
“Azshara’s actions destroyed the world. Destroyed Kalimdor. The Sundering would have ended us as it ended the rest of the Empire… had we not acted. A great barrier of arcane protection was conjured to save Suramar City. It worked… but not without cost. Millennia passed without moonlight and without sunlight. Our people had to change. To evolve.”
 
Clenching her hands into shaking fists, the drawn and weary-looking elven woman lets out a shuddering breath.
 
“There exists a font of power in the heart of the Nighthold, which lies in the center of Suramar City. It is called the Nightwell. It became our only hope for survival, and over time we became… different. Once we were Highborne Night Elves one and all. But now… now we call ourselves the Nightborne.”
 
That explained the difference in appearance, Harry supposed. Thalyssra wasn’t quite ‘Withered’ as she’d called it… not yet anyways. However, she also wasn’t your average Night Elf either. He’d met more than his fair share of Night Elves after all and bedded more than a few as well. Thalyssra… well, going without sunlight or moonlight and relying on arcane power would certainly result in the differences he was seeing.
 
Frankly, the Nightborne didn’t look nearly as different from the Nightwell’s magics as the High Elves had come to look thanks to the Sunwell’s magics. Now THERE was a massive change if Harry had ever seen one.
 
“Unfortunately… the Legion were not gone forever. Once more, they returned. They offered the Grand Magistrix a trade. The Nightwell for our lives. And she and the others took that deal, foolishly believing that the Legion could be reasoned with. That they would uphold their end of the bargain.”
 
Thalyssra scoffs, her eyes staring at him as if challenging Harry to disagree with her words. When he doesn’t, she continues on.
 
“Needless to say, there were those of us who didn’t believe. Those of us who tried to stop the barrier from falling. Or… so I thought. In the end, we were betrayed. And I was stabbed in the back by one I thought was closest to me. Now the devils have taken Suramar. And by the curse of the Nightwell… I am damned to wither away and become like those husks you just fought off.”
 
As her story comes to a close, Harry slowly nods, taking it all in. It’s a tragic tale, but not a surprising one. If there’s one thing that the Burning Legion is good at, it’s preying upon the desperation of weak-willed leadership. And if there’s one thing you can always expect when the Legion is involved, it’s treachery, oft-times from those closest to you.
 
That said… Harry tilts his head to the side.
 
“So then… what now?”
 
Looking around them, Thalyssra bites her lower lip.
 
“There is a refuge near here. In fact… I believe I can see the crevice I was searching for before from where we are standing. I feel so foolish… now that the Withered are not a threat and my head is cleared from the pain, the entrance to Shal’Aran seems so much more obvious. Shall we?”
 
Harry shrugs and gestures for her to go first. Thalyssra leads him into an underground ruin, the place she’d described as ‘Shal’Aran’. Of course, they barely get inside before they’re attacked again. However, this time it’s not Withered… but a full blown Banshee. Luckily, Harry’s connection to magic lets him immediately see that the Banshee is only kept manifested by two Arcane Tethers. If he’d targeted the undead creature herself, defeating her would have been a lot harder. But with a quick pair of blasting curses directed at the tethers, she goes down much easier.
 
At the same time however, it’s clear that Thalyssra is having a hard time just standing back and letting him take care of things. Even as he’s dealing with the Arcane Tethers, the former First Arcanist hisses and pulls together some arcane magic in her hands, throwing it at the Banshee. As a result, she actually gets the killing blow… but not without cost.
 
“Gah!”
 
Dropping to one knee, the Nightborne’s head falls, a sob wracking her body. Harry frowns as he moves over to her, but she wards him off with her hand.
 
“N-No… don’t come any closer. I need… I need mana. If I feed on you, I will be no better than the Withered. You must go out and get me mana from another source. Please… hurry.”
 
Harry raises an eyebrow at that, easily able to think up a way for her to get mana directly from him without having to ‘feed’ in a way that the Withered might. Then again, she WAS a haughty noblewoman type, wasn’t she? So she’d probably be against draining his balls, as was his first thought. Still…
 
“Sure, Thalyssra. Stay here and I’ll be right back.”
 
There’s a wicked sort of grin on his face as he heads back out of Shal’Aran to ‘find mana’. Sure, he’s here to help the poor elven woman… but then, this WAS helping, was it not?
 
-x-X-x-
 
First Arcanist Thalyssra pants heavily as she manages to push herself up to her feet and against a nearby pillar. Listening to the male mage’s feet disappear back out of the refuge, she only hopes that he’ll be relatively fast. She shouldn’t have pushed herself. She was undeniably foolish, crafting and casting a spell of all things in her current condition.
 
But there was no denying that she’d felt better than she had in weeks after the man, Harry, had healed her. When she’d encrypted that message in the hopes of drawing friendly outsiders to her side, it had been a complete shot in the dark. Quite frankly, Thalyssra had expected absolutely nothing whatsoever to come of it. However… in the end, her efforts had borne fruit. More than that. Harry might just be one of the most powerful spellcasters she’d ever met. Oh, she was sure he was nothing compared to leadership of Suramar City, but then to be fair, they had the Nightwell to draw upon.
 
… Where did this Harry’s power come from? She couldn’t help but wonder. He was so strong. So capable. Sure, he wasn’t a Nightborne… but his confidence and competence were both quite intoxicating all the same. He was-
 
Thalyssra blinks, distracted from her thoughts by the distant sounds of… groaning? They’re coming from the crevice that leads out into the ruins of Meredil, the town where Harry had found her. The crevice he’d left through, in fact. She was sure he was already gone; having left to find her a source of mana separate from his own. But then… had the Withered already come back? No, worse than that, were they somehow overcoming their fear of Shal’Aran so quickly because its guardian was destroyed?
 
She needed to know for sure. She needed to make sure they were still safe here or else Harry might walk right back into a trap. With that in mind, the First Arcanist pushes off the pillar she was leaning on and stumbles her way back out of the refuge, making her way back outside. The groaning she was listening to grows louder as she goes… but it doesn’t sound like the groaning and moaning of Withered. No, it sounds like something else. Something… different.
 
Hiding herself, Thalyssra peeks out in the direction of the groaning and quickly locates the source of the noises. Harry has not gone nearly as far as she thought. Instead, the male mage is sat on a rock within a stone’s throw of Shal’Aran’s entrance with his especially impressive cock held in one hand and an empty glass vial in the other. And… he’s jerking himself off into it.
 
Her nose wrinkles for a moment… until her starving senses pick up on the mana radiating from the young man again. She can’t allow herself to feed on him directly, she’ll probably end up killing him. But…
 
With one last groan, Harry spills his seed into the vial and fills it to the brim… and then some. Thalyssra’s eyes widen at the amount of magic coming off of the spunk and it takes every fiber of her being not to leap out from hiding and begin licking up what landed on the ground between his feet from the overflowing vial.
 
Instead, she pulls herself back after a moment, recognizing that Harry is already fixing up his clothes and stoppering the vial. She can hardly believe this is happening… and yet she links back all the same, not wanting to be caught.
 
She’s just returning to leaning against her pillar in the depths of Shal’Aran when Harry finally returns, holding the glowing potion vial in his grasp. He gives her a confident grin as he holds it aloft.
 
“This is what you want, right?”
 
It is… even if part of her is disgusted by her knowledge of its source. And yet, she can barely restrain herself from snatching it out of his hands. In the end, Thalyssra very carefully takes the precious vial from Harry when he offers it to her. And though she knows what is in it… she can’t stop herself from opening it up and draining its contents in record time.
 
She gulps down Harry’s magically charged seed, moaning in pleasure. She’s not expecting it to feel so good, but her eyes almost roll back in her skull from the mana-fueled bliss that damn near overcomes her. Her entire body shudders and shivers in objective arousal, and even though her magical thirst recedes to the point that she almost feels as good as she did before her exile, Thalyssra can’t deny that she wants more.
 
Throwing a sidelong glance at the male mage who gave her this gift, Thalyssra can tell he’s aroused by what he’s made her do. Forcing her to drink his cum just to survive and avoid Withering… he’s certainly gotten one over on her, hasn’t he? Licking her lips and then licking out the bottle as best she can, Thalyssra moans… and then comes to a decision.
 
She can see the source of all that magic hardening from where she stands, and she doesn’t NEED to lick out the bottom of a potion vial when she can just take it straight from the tap. Tossing the vial aside, the First Arcanist drops to her hands and knees and begins to crawl over to Harry, making him raise an eyebrow at her in surprise.
 
“… What are you doing?”
 
“Do you think me a fool, Harry? Do you think that my title as First Arcanist was meaningless? I know what you did. I know what I just drank… and I want more.”
 
She sniffs up and down his covered length like an animal, before licking her lips again and staring up at him.
 
“Please… I beg of you.”
 
Chuckling throatily, Harry’s emerald eyes glitter as he stares right back down at her for a moment before shrugging.
 
“Sure.”
 
With that, he disrobes. His cock falls out onto Thalyssra’s face and her eyes go crossed just staring at it as her nostrils flare to take in the scent of his musk. She’s so enthralled by his massive, fat, mana-filled member that she doesn’t even hear his final words before she dives in. If she had, she might have had something to say.
 
“Man… you’re not so different from your former Queen after all, are you?”
 
Those words go in one ear and out the other for the First Arcanist. Instead of focusing on what Harry just said, Thalyssra is more focused on what he can DO for her. And that seems rather obvious. The vial’s worth of cum in her stomach isn’t enough. Not even remotely. And so, with an animalistic growl, Thalyssra opens her mouth as wide as she can and stretches her jaw out over Harry’s massive bitch breaker of a cock.
 
With the sort of hunger that only a starving woman could ever display, the First Arcanist quickly begins taking every inch of Harry’s huge dick down her throat, choking and gagging herself quite willingly as she skull fucks herself on his length.
 
“Gagkh! Gagkh! Gagkh!”
 
She needs more of it. She needs more of his seed. And she doesn’t care what she has to do to get it.
 
-x-X-x-
 
“Glughk! Glughk! Glughk!”
 
Harry watches on in amusement as Thalyssra debases and humiliates herself in order to get more of his cum. The concept of her being a haughty noblewoman merely down on her luck had lasted all of a handful of seconds once she got his seed inside of her. To be fair, Harry wasn’t an idiot. He knew full well that Thalyssra had heard him and chosen to investigate. It was why he’d been groaning in the first place.
 
In the end, he’d decided that he wanted her to know. He wanted to see what she would do with the full knowledge of what that vial contained. Admittedly, he hadn’t expected her to be THIS desperate. Especially since Harry could feel her mana levels. They were perfectly acceptable now. She was in no danger of becoming Withered any time soon.
 
And yet… addiction didn’t care how recently the addict had been sated, now did it? When you were addicted to something and went any length of time without your next fix, all you could think about was that addiction, even after getting your needs satisfied. Thalyssra might not NEED more of his mana-infused cum at the moment, but she certainly wanted it.
 
Fortunately for her, he was happy to give it to her. As the elven woman buries her face in his crotch for the umpteenth time, Harry abruptly reaches down and grabs a fistful of her white hair, holding her in place.
 
“HULGHK!”
 
She chokes and struggles for a moment, only to go still when he begins to cum a moment later. Then, she stops fighting him altogether and begins to drink. She drinks like a woman who hasn’t had water in a month. She guzzles his seed like it’s the first bit of sustenance she’s had in ages. He knew that wasn’t true of course, she’d already had one dose and it was more than enough. But not as far as Thalyssra was concerned.
 
The First Arcanist drinks down his jizz until there’s nothing left, his balls emptied. She swallows every last bit of his mana-infused cum, her eyes rolled back in her head in pure ecstasy and bliss.
 
… And then she keeps trying to suck. Harry’s eyes narrow as he feels her reaching out with her renewed magic to try and pull on his mana directly. Just like she’d been afraid she might do. Just like she’d sent him away to avoid in the first place.
 
He’s ready for it though. With a scoff and a flex of his will, Thalyssra is blasted off of his cock and thrown back across the cavern floor. She skids to a halt, panting heavily… and then her eyes go wide when she realizes what she tried to do.
 
“S-Sorry… I’m sorry, I didn’t-!”
 
She looks inches from trying to pull a runner. Clearly, she’s horrified and disgusted in herself for giving in to her somewhat vampiric impulses. Privately, Harry is pretty sure she could try sucking every last drop of magic out of him, and she’d blow up before he was fully drained. But that didn’t mean she had permission to try. On the other hand…
 
“You want more mana, woman? I’ll give you more mana.”
 
With a lustful growl, he stalks forward. Thalyssra squeaks but doesn’t fight him when he grabs her by her hips and spins her over onto her hands and knees. He tears her ragged robes off of her, exposing her body to his eyes. She’s certainly seen better days, but she’s not fully Withered. She still has curves and what not, and once they get some more food AND mana into her, she’ll undoubtedly fill out nicely once more.
 
The food can wait. For now, Harry squeezes her hips and brings his cock to her sex… before spearing into her cunt from behind. The First Arcanist is already quite wet for him, he notes. Sopping, in fact. She cries out as he spreads her open with his bitch breaker of a cock, his mammoth-sized member stretching her gushing cunny like nothing else.
 
And then he starts to fuck her. Howling like the banshee they killed to get this place to themselves, Thalyssra tosses her head back and thrusts her hips in his direction. She reverts to that animalistic attitude of hers, grunting and groaning and pushing back into his cock again and again quite enthusiastically.
 
In response, Harry gives her just as much enthusiasm right back. He fucks her cunt through orgasm after orgasm and climax after climax. He listens to her cry out and enjoys the way she sings his praises, however unintentionally. The starving elven woman bucks her hips this way and that, not trying to push him off, but trying to get him deeper inside of her.
 
Harry appreciates her eagerness. He appreciates her willingness to adapt. Despite being one of the movers and shakers in Suramar just a few weeks ago, Thalyssra has survived her fall from grace. More than that, she recognizes that he can help her… and is willing to do anything to get his assistance. Harry respects that sort of survivor. He respects someone who can really give it her all.
 
And so he gives her what she desires. Pumping a hot, thick load right into her womb, he fills and fills her with his mana-charged seed. Watching her back bend and arch, watching her head toss and her entire body freeze up, Harry grins, knowing full well that Thalyssra is REALLY feeling it now, especially with how she squirts from the pleasure, coating the length of his cock in her pussy juices.
 
… Well, if the two of them were going to be working together for who knew how long, he might as well lay down the law now, right? Pulling out of her cunt, Harry lifts Thalyssra’s hips up higher into the air even as he rises from his kneeling position and into a crouch. He pushes the moaning Nightborne’s face into the ground and then places a foot on the back of her head as he fits the head of his massive, bulbous bitch breaker against Thalyssra’s defenseless, tight little asshole.
 
“W-What… what are you d-doing?”
 
Her tired voice makes it clear she’s already had a bit too much to ‘drink’ so to speak. She’s probably ready for a nap as her body assimilates the most mana it’s had access to in months. Indeed, her abdomen is visibly bloated and distended from his cum after she drank one and a half loads and took a full second load right into her womb.
 
But he’s not done with her yet. And as Thalyssra is going to learn, they’re not done until Harry says they’re done.
 
“Did you know that the fastest way to get someone drunk is an alcoholic enema? It’s said that the asshole absorbs certain things much faster than the mouth. Some people have even died from alcohol poisoning because of that. Shall we see how much mana you get from taking a load of my seed right into your bowels?”
 
Barely able to look up at him with one eye from how her face is pressed into the ground, Thalyssra hesitates for a moment… before shivering in delight.
 
“D-Do your worst…”
 
He was always going to. But it’s oh so nice when they foolishly give him permission, like they thought that mattered. Grinning wickedly, Harry plunges his cock into Thalyssra’s ass without further delay. The former First Arcanist HOWLS as he splits open her back door with his massive meaty pole. From the way she squeals and her feet kick up in the air behind him, Harry suspects that despite being over ten thousand years old, Thalyssra is an anal virgin.
 
That surprises him. From what she’d said, Suramar City sounded like it’d probably descended into a den of hedonism and vice over the past ten thousand years. Especially if its ruler was so much of a weak-willed coward that she was willing to surrender to the Legion at the drop of a hat. Those kinds of women were always the ones who were the kinkiest in Harry’s experience.
 
Then again, Thalyssra hadn’t sided with this Elisande chick. So maybe she also didn’t partake in the hedonistic life style that Harry had already built up for the Grand Magistrix in his head. Either way, she’s certainly getting a taste of the ‘high life’ now.
 
Fucking Thalyssra into the ground, pounding her butt with more and more of his length, Harry finds her answering squeals and screams to be just as beautiful as all of the other sounds she’s made for him so far. He groans in appreciation of her tight anus as well, the former First Arcanist’s backdoor trying and failing to push him out again and again as he pounds down into her from above.
 
Until finally… Harry lets out one last heartfelt groan and unleashes inside of her ass. Just as he did with her gullet and her cunt, he fills Thalyssra’s bowels with his mana-infused seed. He pumps a hot, thick load of his jizz right into her backdoor… and then pulls out and steps back to watch the fireworks. What follows is quite the sight, as all of the magically charged jizz now filling her orifices begins to glow brightly. And Thalyssra herself recovers in real time, returning from her Pre-Withered State to what Harry imagined she looked like when she was still First Arcanist, back in Suramar City.
 
Slowly, the Nightborne woman pushes herself up and stares down at her recovered body in wonder. She no longer looks half-starved. She no longer looks a step away from becoming one of the monsters out in the wilderness that she was so afraid of. She looks good and as Harry strokes his cock absently, he can’t help but admire her, kneeling there on the ground, leaking his cum.
 
Finally, she turns to him and upon seeing he’s still hard, she crawls over and takes his shaft from him, stroking it with both hands before laying it between her rejuvenated breasts. As she begins giving him an inexperienced but heartfelt titjob, Thalyssra looks up into his eyes, her own eyes glowing with much more power now than they were before.
 
“If all I had to worry about was myself, I would pledge my service to you here and now, Harry. I do not know how you are so powerful, but I do know that you have done the impossible. However… my people suffer. The Grand Magistrix has sold the Nightborne to the Legion. Without our aid, they will all be fodder for the demons who now control Suramar City.”
 
Her heartfelt pleading goes well with the titjob, Harry has to admit. She really knows how to tug at his heartstrings, despite the fact that they just met.
 
“I beg of you… help me. Help me to save the Withered. Help me to build an army with which to free the people of Suramar. You are my only hope.”
 
Look, Harry has always had a savior complex. So is it any wonder that Thalyssra’s words tip him right over the edge, causing him to cum all over the beautiful Nightborne’s face and tits? Not that she minds. In fact, the former First Arcanist’s haughtiness is nowhere to be seen. Not with him anyways. She lets out a wanton, slutty moan, and begins licking up his seed with her tongue, scooping it off of her fat tits and into her mouth. All the while, her glowing eyes stare up at him, beseeching him to agree.
 
In the end, what’s a man to do? Besides, he knows Jaina would want him to help Thalyssra and her people. She would urge him to assist the former First Arcanist, not just because it would help their fight against the Burning Legion, but also because it was the right thing to do. And so he sighs and nods, chuckling softly as Thalyssra jolts at his response.
 
“Very well. Though I hope you don’t expect me to cum on every Withered. I’m not really into guys, and from what I’ve seen the females are all much worse off than you as well. So we’d better find another way to cure your people, darling.”
 
Sucking her fingers clean of his cum, Thalyssra slowly nods as her eyes dart to the side and she looks lost in thought.
 
“Yes, of course. I would never ask such of thing of you. And… even before I met you, I had ideas. Ideas that do not rely upon your magnificent power. Not to worry… working together, we can do this. I believe that with all my heart.”
 
Well. They would see. If nothing else, Harry was willing to try.

-x-X-x-

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