Soul Exchange

When Galen strutted into the Hades Palace, Bwonsamdi was giggling like a child who'd just found a shiny coin, tossing a glowing orb of light from one skeletal hand to the other. That orb? None other than the soul of the King of Zandalari, Rastakhan himself—currently shaped like a glowing meatball.

"Ehhh, look at this now!" Bwonsamdi cackled, eyes gleaming. "The soul of the Zandalari God King! Ol' Bwonsamdi ain't never had one of these before. Ooh-hoo, what a shiny little treat!"

Galen crashed the party like an overzealous tax collector. "Enjoy it while you can, shadow-bones. You're about to lose that shiny prize."

Bwonsamdi's gleeful expression dropped like a coconut from a palm tree. He blinked. "You don't gotta ruin the mood, man."

"Just stating facts," Galen said, swaggering across the eerie palace floor. "Rastakhan's not yours to keep. Zandalari kings come with Loa-level insurance policies. Rezan's gonna come calling any minute."

Bwonsamdi floated down to Galen, still clutching the King's soul, and slapped a bony hand on his shoulder like they were old poker buddies. "Eh, mon, can't we just... work this out, yah?"

Hisss—SIZZLE!

Smoke burst from Bwonsamdi's hand as if he'd touched a forge anvil.

"HOT DAMN!" he yelped, waving his charred fingers. "What in the seven Loas is in you?! The Holy Light?! You walkin' around like a sunbeam wrapped in mortal skin!"

Galen shrugged smugly. "You could say I'm... spiritually overclocked."

Bwonsamdi shook the smoke off and leaned in, eyes glowing with schemes. "C'mon, friend. Help me out here. Together we can smack that smug lizard Rezan off his golden perch. I know he gets under your skin too."

"Oh please," Galen scoffed, waving off the offer like a bad odor. "I'm not here to sign up for a Loa-on-Loa slugfest. This isn't about your grudge match. I'm just here to hand over the King's soul before you get stomped into Loa-flavored paste."

That wiped the grin right off the troll god's face. Bwonsamdi's fiery pupils flickered like dying lanterns. "Bwonsamdi never gives away a soul he done already bagged! Especially not for free! That's bad business, mon!"

Suddenly—

"BWONSAMDI!"

A thunderous roar shook the Underworld Palace to its foundations. Every ghost in line for processing froze mid-moan. Had the death magic not been holding their forms together, half of them would've exploded from the sheer pressure of the voice.

Bwonsamdi visibly flinched, his shoulders rising like startled cat fur. "Aw, no. That definitely sounded like Rezan... and he does not use his inside voice."

Galen folded his arms with a smug grin. "Looks like daddy's home."

Bwonsamdi's eyes darted around. "Hey now, old pal, maybe we still got a deal to work out, eh? I can throw in a bonus soul—real high quality! Maybe a warlord, or a heretic priest?"

"I'm good," Galen said, reaching for the orb. "I'll take the King's soul, thank you very much."

The moment his hand touched it, Bwonsamdi gasped. "Wait—wait wait wait! HOW are you even holding that?! That's my soul ball!"

"BWONSAMDI!!"

The second roar cracked the ceiling. A bolt of lightning crashed down onto the stone steps, splitting the floor tiles like crackers under a troll's heel.

Out of the smoke and static stepped Rezan—not in the flesh, but his glowing, golden spirit form, radiating raw divinity and dinosaur dad energy.

Bwonsamdi winced. "Rezan, mon, you gonna wake up the entire afterlife with that voice!"

Rezan didn't waste time. "You took what's mine. Give it BACK."

"Hey hey hey," Bwonsamdi said, raising his hands, "You've been hoarding this soul for ages! Blessed him with Loa magic, extended his lifespan like a stretch of bubblegum—how's that fair to Death, eh?!"

Rezan's voice was razor-sharp. "Watch yourself, god of decay. Push me again and I'll personally find out if Death can die."

Bwonsamdi's bravado melted faster than butter in a jungle fire. "Okay, okay! Generosity and grace, that's what you're all about, right? Fine. You want your little King back? I'm willing to be benevolent this once."

He patted his empty robes.

"Only... I might've, ah... forgotten to bring him with me. Heh. Little oversight. I'll just—zip zap—deliver him later."

Rezan narrowed his eyes but gave the faintest nod. "Return the soul. Now. Do not make me ask again."

"Alright, alright!" Bwonsamdi waved his hand like he was brushing off flies and vanished in a puff of smoke.

Earlier *

Meanwhile, in Zeb'ari, the little coastal fishing village nestled at the edge of Zuldazar, Zolani and the royal alchemist stood before a sacred altar, clutching the golden statue of Rezan like it was their last hope.

A great shadow took form, golden eyes glowing like twin suns.

"You call me, chosen of Zandalari?" Rezan boomed. "I sense... my king is lost."

Zolani bowed low, her voice trembling. "Rezan, great Loa, Rastakhan lies broken and unconscious. Only you can bring him back!"

A storm of anger flashed through Rezan's spectral eyes. "Those traitors will burn. The King is mine, and our pact is not over!"

"BWONSAMDI!!"

The roar shattered the clouds, slicing straight through the veil between worlds. Again. Still no response.

Rezan's nostrils flared. The sky cracked with fury.

"BWONSAMDI!!!"

Another bolt of divine lightning crashed down at the altar steps, and this time, the shadowy form of the Death Loa slouched into view, hands raised like a child caught sneaking snacks before dinner.

"Rezan, mon... maybe don't roast the landscape, yeah?"

"I said give him back."

Bwonsamdi pouted, flapping his arms. "You always get the good ones. Not fair, I say! But... fine. FINE! You want the king, you get the king."

He flicked his fingers dramatically. "Just don't call me twice next time. Bad for my blood pressure—if I had any!"

With a swirl of shadow and a grumble of Loa-level irritation, Bwonsamdi vanished again—hopefully for good this time.

And Rezan, satisfied, turned to Zolani.

"The King shall return. Prepare his body... and his throne."