Resurgence of the Light [Warcraft]

[Kordelius]

Silently he observed as the living pushed back against the tide of the undead. His cloak billowed in the wind, a silhouette against the chaos unfolding before him. Step by step, the defenders gained ground, their determination a stark contrast to the relentless advance of the undead hordes. Despite the casualties mounting among their ranks, their resolve remained unyielding.

From his vantage point, he witnessed the flurry of magic unleashed upon the battlefield. Flames erupted, ice shards pierced through the air, arcane energies crackled, and radiant light pierced the darkness. The explosions and clashes of power rent the air, each spell a testament to the desperation of the living to repel the encroaching darkness. Yet, for every spell cast, there was a sinister counter, as necrotic energies surged forth, accompanied by flames and frost from the undead.

But amidst the chaos, he remained a silent observer, his features hidden beaneath his armor from those who fought below.

"Will you not join them, in this pivotal moment?" A voice, melodious and accompanied by the soft tinkling of crystals, whispered in his ear, reminiscent of the delicate chiming of crystalline bells. "Have they not proved their mettle to you?" The question lingered in the air, its gentle tone masking a subtle challenge veiled in genuine concern, as the voice penetrated through the silence that enveloped him.

He listened, his gaze fixed upon the battlefield below, where the clash between life and death raged on.

Finally, he moved, a subtle shift in the stillness, raising his arm as if in deliberation. His gaze lingered momentarily on his hand, fingers tracing an unseen pattern, before lifting both arm and head to the heavens above.

For a suspended moment, nothing changed, save for the faint stirring of anticipation in the air. Then, as if in response to his silent invocation, the clouds parted, revealing the radiant glow concealed behind. Light, pure and resplendent, burst forth, cascading in brilliant beams towards the earth below.

The first to catch sight of this celestial intervention were the battling dragons, their aerial skirmish momentarily forgotten as they beheld the luminous spectacle unfolding before them.

As the radiant beams struck the undead horrors of the scourge, a miraculous transformation ensued. Where once there had been abominations of decay and death, now there was naught but vapor, consumed utterly by the cleansing fire of the divine light. Those among the living caught in its embrace felt a surge of vitality coursing through their veins, wounds closing and strength returning as if touched by the hand of providence itself.

As the beams of light finally made contact with the earth, the undead horde faltered and fell in droves, unable to withstand the overwhelming power of the divine radiance. Across the battlefield, the living halted in disbelief, their shock palpable as they beheld the miraculous scene unfolding before them. The seemingly unstoppable tide of the undead was swiftly swept away, vanquished by the sheer force of the Light.

But the miracle did not end there. Amidst the chaos and devastation, fallen comrades began to stir, rising once more not as soulless minions of death, but as living, breathing beings restored to life. Their eyes widened in wonder as they beheld their healed bodies, wounds that had once sealed their fates now miraculously restored.

In unison, their gaze turned towards the peak, where they knew he stood, his unseen presence now a beacon of hope and inspiration. Hearts swelled with gratitude and admiration, their spirits uplifted by the knowledge that they were not alone in their struggle against the encroaching darkness.

With renewed vigor and determination, they pressed forward, emboldened by the light of their mysterious ally and the newfound hope that surged within their ranks. The battle was far from over, but in that moment, they knew that victory was within their grasp.

On the mountain peak, he sank to one knee, the weight of his actions bearing down upon him like a heavy burden. Exhaustion seeped into his bones, his body trembling with the strain of what he had unleashed upon the battlefield.

A wave of concern washed over him, not his own, but emanating from the ever-present companion who had journeyed by his side since the beginning. Despite the weariness that threatened to overwhelm him, he reassured the unseen presence with a voice steadied by determination. "I am fine. I still have the strength to stand."

With a determined resolve, he pushed himself upright, his gaze fixed on the task that lay ahead. "It is time to end this," he declared, his voice resolute as he took a decisive step forward. As he crashed into the ground below, a whirlwind of dust and debris enveloped him, obscuring him from view.

When the dust settled, he emerged astride his trusty steed, a majestic creature whose presence radiated strength and grace. With a firm grip on the reins, he urged the steed forward, its powerful hooves striking the ground with purpose as they set off towards the heart of the conflict.

Amidst the chaos and carnage, he rode forth, his determination unwavering as he prepared to confront the source of the darkness that threatened to engulf them all. With each stride of his mount, he drew closer to his destiny, ready to face whatever lay ahead in the name of victory.

~~~~

As Uther ascended the steps leading to the imposing doors of the Icecrown Citadel, each footfall carried the weight of destiny. His grip tightened on his mace, a symbol of righteous fury and determination, as he pressed forward, undeterred by the chaos of battle raging around him.

With practiced ease, he dispatched any undead foolish enough to stand in his path, his movements swift and decisive. The Lich King, in his arrogance, had chosen to unleash a relentless horde of minions upon them, banking on sheer numbers to overwhelm the defenders. And though they fought valiantly, the relentless onslaught threatened to tip the scales against them.

Yet, even in the face of such adversity, a glimmer of hope ignited within Uther's heart as he reflected on the intervention of the Light's Chosen. The display of power unleashed by their mysterious ally had been nothing short of awe-inspiring, a testament to the might of the divine forces at their disposal.

Witnessing the Light's Chosen command the very essence of purity and righteousness to smite their enemies filled Uther with a sense of wonder and reverence. Never before had he beheld such mastery over the forces of light, nor had he imagined wielding such power himself.

As they neared the entrance to the Icecrown Citadel, Uther's resolve hardened, fueled by the newfound hope inspired by the Light's Chosen. With each step, he drew closer to the ultimate confrontation with the Lich King, ready to face whatever darkness awaited within, bolstered by the radiant presence of their enigmatic ally.

His focus fixed on the looming entrance, a presence at his side drew his attention. Sylvanas Windrunner stood beside him, her gaze ablaze with anticipation and a simmering thirst for vengeance. He could feel the intensity radiating from her, a palpable eagerness to confront the one who had wrought devastation upon her life and homeland.

Her fingers tightened around her bow, a silent promise of retribution echoing in the air. "Soon you will face Light's Vengeance, Arthas," she growled, her words more a declaration to herself than to him. Yet, Uther heard her, understanding the depth of her desire for justice. Though their motivations differed, he could not fault her for seeking solace in the destruction of the one who had caused so much suffering.

"Yes, soon this nightmare will be over," Uther affirmed, his tone resolute as they finally reached the towering doors barring their path.

With a firm grip on his mace, Uther drew upon the boundless power of the Light, allowing it to suffuse every fiber of his being until he radiated with its brilliance. With a primal roar, he surged forward, his weapon raised high as he unleashed a devastating strike upon the barrier before them.

For a fleeting moment, a shield shimmered into existence, a feeble attempt to repel the onslaught of Light-infused fury. But it was no match for the sheer force of Uther's righteous wrath. With a thunderous crash, his mace connected with the door, shattering it into splinters and blasting the entrance wide open in a shower of debris.

As the dust settled and the echoes of his assault faded, Uther stood at the threshold of the Icecrown Citadel, his resolve unyielding as he prepared to confront the source of their torment once and for all. Beside him, Sylvanas stood ready, her gaze fixed upon the darkness that awaited within, her thirst for vengeance unquenchable.

~~~~

As Uther and Sylvanas stepped into the frigid and lifeless halls of Icecrown Citadel, a gravelly voice echoed from deeper within, its ominous tone a harbinger of the trials yet to come. "This is the beginning and the end, mortals. None may enter the master's sanctum!"

But the defiant words only served to steel their resolve, fueling their determination to defy the darkness that lurked within. Without hesitation, Sylvanas and her rangers unleashed a barrage of arrows, each shaft finding its mark amidst the rushing tide of undead that sought to bar their advance. Meanwhile, Uther and his companions surged forward, their weapons gleaming in the dim light as they carved a path through the ranks of their foes.

With each step, they pressed deeper into the heart of the citadel, undeterred by the horrors that lurked in the shadows. Their resolve was unyielding, their determination unwavering as they fought tooth and nail to prove their adversary wrong.

At last, as they reached the inner sanctum, a temporary respite was won. Mages, led by the formidable Jaina Proudmoore, swiftly erected a barrier at the far end of the hallway, sealing the encroaching undead at bay. Behind the safety of the magical shield, the weary defenders regrouped, their breaths coming in ragged gasps as they prepared for the final confrontation that lay ahead.

As Uther, Sylvanas, Liadrin, Jaina Proudmoore, Bolvar Fordragon, and Varok Saurfang gathered together, the weight of their mission hung heavy in the air. Each of them, seasoned warriors and leaders in their own right, understood the gravity of the task before them.

"We need to split our forces," Uther declared, his voice grave yet resolute. "The majority will need to remain here to hold this position against any further onslaughts. But a powerful strike team must press ahead. No doubt the strongest of the Lich King's servants lie further within, and it will take great strength and courage to combat them."

His words were met with solemn nods from his companions, each one bracing themselves for the challenges that lay ahead.

"Most of Light's Vengeance will remain here," Sylvanas asserted, her tone unwavering as she addressed the group. "But myself and my best rangers will accompany those pressing ahead. We will provide support and ensure that no foe escapes our sight." None were surprised by her decision, her hatred of their foe was known to all.

As Uther's gaze shifted from Sylvanas to Bolvar and Varok, he spoke with a somber tone, addressing the need for unity even amidst the chaos of battle. "While there has been some cohesion between the forces of the Alliance and the Horde, I believe it would be for the best if you both remained here to keep order."

Bolvar and Varok exchanged a meaningful glance, silently acknowledging the wisdom in Uther's words. With a shared nod, they accepted their roles without protest, understanding the importance of maintaining stability amidst the turmoil of war.

Before further discussion could ensue, Darion and Velanara approached, their resolve evident in their determined expressions.

"I will join the assault further inside," Darion declared, his voice carrying the weight of authority born from his mastery of the legendary Ashbringer. His decision was met with silent approval from the gathered leaders, their confidence in his abilities unwavering.

Meanwhile, Liadrin turned her attention towards Velanara, assigning her a crucial task. "You will need to remain to lead the Sentinels of Light," Liadrin instructed, her voice firm yet compassionate. Velanara nodded in understanding, accepting the responsibility entrusted to her with a determined resolve.

With the division of roles settled, all eyes turned towards Jaina, who had remained silent until now. Uther hesitated for a moment, unsure of what her response would be. But before he could speak, Jaina's voice cut through the silence with unwavering determination.

"I will go," she declared, her gaze meeting Uther's with a steely resolve. "This madness needs to end. Arthas died long ago, and it is time I put him to rest."

Her words echoed with a sense of finality, a shared determination to confront the darkness that had plagued them for far too long. With their roles defined and their resolve strengthened, the companions prepared to face the looming battle ahead, united in their quest to bring an end to the tyranny of the Lich King once and for all.

---

So the story will conclude with chapter 35, since I posted chapter 34 on my patreon today. Chapter 35 will serve as an epilogue for the most part.

 

[Kordelius]

As the attacking force turned towards the barrier to proceed further into the Icecrown Citadel, a welcome presence greeted their gazes—Light's Chosen stood before the barrier.

As stalwart as he had ever been, his presence assuaged many of their fears of facing what awaited them, but he was not alone. Another stood beside him, one whose presence was also most welcome—Alexstrasza, Queen of the Dragons.

As she looked towards Uther and those who walked behind, she gave an encouraging smile. "I would join you, I hope you do not mind." A small teasing lilt in her tone served to bring some levity to the heavy atmosphere.

Uther released a brief laugh. "Rest assured, my lady, your presence is most welcome." Alexstrasza simply smiled at his answer, while Light's Chosen merely turned his head to gaze at Uther, his helmet-covered head betraying none of what he might be feeling.

"Are you prepared?" he asked simply, as if they were not about to travel further into the citadel of horror. Uther gave a resolute nod, followed by others. "We are."

For a moment, Light's Chosen's gaze remained upon them, as if silently testing them and their resolve, before his heavy gaze turned once more forward. Without hesitation, he walked forward, ignoring the barrier that had been repelling the undead.

Under the sheer weight of his presence and power, it shattered like glass, and his radiance purged the undead that sought to use this opportunity to surge forward.

Like bugs, the undead died in droves, unable to withstand his mere presence. The others simply followed in his wake, paying no heed to the death screeches of the undead. For many, this was a sight they had witnessed before—only the truly powerful undead could withstand the mere presence of Light's Chosen, and they could see one such creature at the end of the hall.

A twisted amalgamation of bones infused with necromantic magic that allowed it to move, it was truly the stuff of nightmares. Wielding its massive axe, it was to be their first challenge in these cursed halls.

Two pathways lay to the left and right, leading further into the citadel, but it was obvious to all that they would need to deal with this creature before they could proceed. Or at least, that's what they believed. In an unexpected turn of events, Light's Chosen veered towards one of these pathways, completely ignoring the bone wraith.

"Darion, deal with this pest," was all Light's Chosen said as he continued to walk forward. Even the necrotic monstrosity seemed surprised at the sheer audacity of being ignored, for it did not immediately attempt to bar Light's Chosen's path.

"HAHAHA, what an audacious mortal you are! To ignore Lord Marrowgar." The now-named abomination cackled before changing its stance and calling out, "BONES STORM!" It began to spin with its massive axe, generating a vortex of wind as it approached Light's Chosen, who still did not deign to stop or even turn his head towards it.

Darion broke free of his stupor and, with a roar, charged the undead abomination. The Ashbringer glowed brightly in his arms, stopping Marrowgar's whirlwind of death in its tracks. Sparks flew as the blessed blade met the cursed axe, the sheer force of their clash shaking the very foundations of the hall.

Uther was the next to move, his hammer radiating with holy light as he swung it at Marrowgar's skeletal form. Each strike he landed sent ripples of divine energy through the abomination, causing it to stagger momentarily.

Jaina, standing a short distance away, began to weave her hands in intricate patterns, her eyes glowing with arcane power. She sent shards of ice towards Marrowgar. The ice struck true, coating parts of the abomination in frost and slowing its movements. She followed up with a series of fire blasts, each one melting away the frozen sections and causing bursts of steam to rise from the creature.

Liadrin, her eyes alight with the fervor of the Light, dashed forward with her blade gleaming. She struck with precision, her blade dancing around Marrowgar's defenses and finding the gaps in its bone structure. Each hit was punctuated with a burst of holy energy, weakening the necrotic bindings that held the bones together.

Alexstrasza, in her humanoid form but still exuding the presence of a dragon, unleashed a torrent of fire. Her flames engulfed Marrowgar, the intense heat causing the bones to crack and splinter. As the fire roared around the abomination, she shifted her focus, calling upon her draconic powers to heal and bolster her allies, ensuring they could continue the fight without faltering.

The battle was fierce, the air thick with the clash of metal, the roar of flames, and the crackle of arcane magic. Marrowgar fought back with relentless fury, swinging its massive axe with wild abandon. It summoned waves of bone spikes from the ground, forcing the attackers to stay on the move.

Darion, wielding the Ashbringer with unmatched skill, parried Marrowgar's strikes and cleaved through the bone spikes. "For the Light!" he bellowed, each swing of his sword accompanied by a burst of radiant energy that shattered the dark magic animating the bones.

Liadrin, ever the stalwart defender, used her shield to block Marrowgar's powerful blows, giving her allies openings to strike. "Together, we stand!" she shouted, her voice a beacon of hope amidst the chaos.

Jaina continued her barrage of spells, switching between frost to slow and fire to damage, her precision impeccable. She created barriers of ice to protect her allies and used blasts of arcane energy to destabilize Marrowgar's movements.

Uther moved with grace and deadly efficiency, his mace a blur as he struck at the joints and weak points of Marrowgar's form. "The Light's justice is swift!" he declared, each strike weakening the creature further.

Alexstrasza's flames intensified, turning from orange to a brilliant white as she called upon her full power. "Feel the wrath of the Dragonqueen!" she roared, her fire consuming Marrowgar and leaving charred, brittle bones in its wake.

The combined might of Darion, Uther, Jaina, Liadrin, and Alexstrasza proved too much for Lord Marrowgar. With a final, thunderous clash, Darion drove the Ashbringer through one of the skulls of the abomination. The necrotic energy that once sustained it vanished, leaving only bones that began to slowly turn to dust behind.

True to prediction, by the time Sylvanas and her rangers caught up to Light's Chosen at the top, the bone wraith—Lord Marrowgar—had been bested. Darion stood over the remains, pulling his sword from the last skull, the Ashbringer's glow slowly fading as the victory settled in.

Turning her attention forward, Sylvanas beheld their next obstacle. For a moment, her brows furrowed as she could not believe what she was seeing. It looked like a classroom, with rows of tables and chairs, men and women sitting in them while a Lich floated at the far end of the room like a teacher.

"What is this disturbance? You dare trespass upon this hallowed ground? This shall be your final resting place!" A raspy female voice came from the Lich as she caught sight of them.

"Students, prove your worth and be rewarded upon your victory, or be punished should you fail!" The Lich screeched, and upon her command, her students rose and turned to face Sylvanas and her rangers, who had already drawn their bows and notched an arrow.

Many did not even manage to rise before arrows of Light filled their bodies, falling to the ground dead.

"Focus fire on the students!" Sylvanas shouted. She fired an arrow, its light searing through the darkness and striking a student in the chest, causing them to crumble into dust. Her rangers followed her lead, their arrows flying true and eliminating the remaining students

Lady Deathwhisper screeched in fury. "You dare defy me? Very well, face the true power of the damned!" She gestured towards the fallen students, dark energy enveloping their bodies. "Arise, failures! Serve me in death as you did in life!"

The fallen students rose, their bodies now twisted and corrupted by necrotic energy. Their eyes glowed with an unholy light as they turned once more to face Sylvanas and her rangers.

"Do not falter!" Sylvanas commanded. She unleashed a volley of arrows, each one imbued with purifying light, striking down several of the reanimated students. Her rangers followed her lead, their arrows finding their marks with deadly precision.

Lady Deathwhisper chanted incantations, her dark magic weaving through the room and bolstering her undead minions. "You are all failures! Serve me better in death, or suffer eternal torment!"

Yet even bolstered they were no match for Sylvanas and her rangers one by one they fell till none were left, not even their dead bodies all had been purged by the Light.

Lady Deathwhisper, enraged by the swift demise of her students, began to chant, her skeletal hands weaving dark sigils in the air. "You shall all suffer the wrath of the Cult of the Damned!" she intoned, unleashing a wave of shadowy tendrils that snaked across the room towards Sylvanas and her rangers.

"Spread out!" Sylvanas commanded, her voice calm and authoritative. The rangers scattered, evading the dark tendrils with practiced agility. Sylvanas herself rolled to the side, her bow drawn and a glowing arrow already notched. She released it, the arrow streaking towards Deathwhisper, only to be deflected by a shield of dark energy.

"Foolish mortal! You think your light can pierce my defenses?" Lady Deathwhisper cackled, her voice dripping with contempt. She summoned forth an army of spectral apparitions, their ghostly forms gliding menacingly towards the rangers.

Sylvanas, undeterred, called upon her own powers. "Rangers, to me! Focus fire on the apparitions!" she ordered. Her rangers responded with alacrity, their arrows infused with light and shadow alike, tearing through the spectral forms with ease. The room filled with the sounds of ethereal wails as the apparitions were vanquished.

With the immediate threat neutralized, Sylvanas turned her focus back to Deathwhisper. "Now, while her shield is down!" she cried, loosing a barrage of arrows. Each one struck true, and the Lich's shield faltered under the relentless assault.

Lady Deathwhisper snarled, her form flickering as she struggled to maintain her magical barrier. "I will not be defeated by the likes of you!" she screeched, channeling dark energy into a massive shadow bolt aimed directly at Sylvanas.

Sylvanas stood her ground, her eyes narrowing as she waited for the right moment. Just as the shadow bolt was about to strike, she sidestepped with preternatural speed, the dark energy passing harmlessly by her. In that instant, she drew a special arrow, one imbued with the pure essence of the Light, and fired it directly at the Lich.

The arrow struck Lady Deathwhisper in the center of her chest, the holy energy exploding outwards. She shrieked in agony, her form writhing as the Light consumed her. "No! This cannot be! I am eternal!" she wailed, her voice growing weaker.

With one final gasp she rasped out. "All part of the Master's plan... Your end is inevitable..."

Sylvanas advanced, her bow still drawn, another arrow ready. "Your reign of terror ends here," she declared coldly, releasing the final arrow. It struck true, piercing the Lich's skull. The dark energy sustaining her form dissipated, and with one last, despairing scream, Lady Deathwhisper crumbled to the ground, her bones turning to dust.

The room fell silent, the echoes of the battle fading away. Sylvanas lowered her bow, her eyes sweeping over her rangers. They stood victorious, their expressions resolute. "Well done," she said simply, acknowledging their prowess.

~~~~

"Welcome to your doom, trespassers," the figure intoned, his voice echoing across the platform. "I am Lord Frostbane, commander of the Lich King's legions. You shall not proceed any further." These were the words that greeted them as they ascended even further, a death knight barring their way, the doors behind him leading further into the Icecrown Citadel.

As Uther stepped forward, his eyes narrowed as a sense of familiarity washed over him. He knew this man. His eyes shot wide as he finally recognized the boy he had trained. "Edric…" He whispered, yet his voice carried nonetheless.

The death knight regarded Uther for a moment. "Edric is dead, Lord Frostbane, commander of the Lich King's legions, is all that remains." His voice had grown colder, as if the reminder of that life he once had spurred his anger.

Uther gritted his teeth and gripped his mace tighter, righteous anger bubbling within him as once more Arthas demonstrated his monstrosity. Edric was a kind soul, so to see him twisted and warped like this just ignited his anger.

Yet as he made to step forward and finally put his tormented student to rest, Light's Chosen raised his hand and barred his path.

About to snap at him in anger, the calm voice of Light's Chosen quelled his anger. "Let me."

Calmly, he began to walk forward, his steps measured and unwavering, radiating strength and purpose.

"So you are the one." Edric, now Lord Frostbane, commented as he drew his runeblade and prepared himself. "Foolish of you to face me alone; once I deal with you, the others will lose faith and become easy pickings."

With that, he rushed at Light's Chosen, blade raised high, while the Light's Chosen still showed no worry. Light gathered in his arm, and as he raised it, a blade formed in his hand with which he blocked the strike.

Frostbane attacked again and again, each swing filled with power and delivered with precision and speed, yet none managed to connect, all blocked or parried calmly by the Light's Chosen, who had not even moved from the spot he stood.

Till with a flourish too fast to see, Frostbane's sword was sent flying, yet the death knight did not even stop for a moment and wound his fist back and let it fly.

The Light's Chosen caught his fist in his palm, his fingers winding around it, holding it in place, not allowing Frostbane to pull back. The Light's Chosen's other arm struck out, laying his palm upon Frostbane's face.

"Be free of this torment." Light's Chosen spoke as light consumed Frostbane. Once it dissipated, the twisted flesh of Lord Frostbane began to disappear, yet behind stood an apparition, it was Edric.

Who raised his head to look at the Light's Chosen, relief and gratitude etched in his face. "Thank you." He whispered in profound gratitude.

Uther had stepped up beside the Light's Chosen and looked at his once student with sorrow. "I am so sorry, my boy."

Edric spared a broken smile at Uther. "I forgive you." He spoke as he disappeared.

---

And onward we go.

The story is not finished on my patreon, I will post the last three chapters here after some delay.

On another note, this is now my second finished story. Woohoo

 

[Kordelius]

As they walked through the door guarded by Lord Frostbane, a vast circular room with three distinct hallways leading away from it came into view, each no doubt holding more of the Lich King's most powerful minions.

But the most noticeable feature was the platform held by four walkways above a yawning abyss.

It was obvious, even to those with no magical knowledge, that the space in this place had been warped. There was no telling how truly large all of this was.

Jaina was the first to notice the inactive teleportation pad in the middle of the platform. She furrowed her brows as she glanced at the three hallways.

"You are correct," Light's Chosen spoke up, confirming her suspicions, which made the others turn to him and then to Jaina, noticing that he was gazing at her.

"About what?" Uther was the one to ask the question on everyone else's mind.

"We need to kill whoever awaits us in all these hallways to unlock the portal to Arthas," Jaina explained, gesturing at the inactive teleportation pad and then the hallways.

Grimaces crossed the faces of the others. Already they had witnessed monstrous things, but there was no doubt in their minds that they would witness more.

Still, a pressing matter remained: there were three hallways, and while they were not accosted now, should they choose to depart as a group for one, they could get pincered from behind.

Light's Chosen raised his arm and pointed at the left hallway. "Putricide, the one who developed all ways to spread the plague and his plagued abominations, lies there."

His arm moved to the hallway across from them. "The San'layn, the elves left behind during Illidan's failed assault upon Icecrown, now a vampiric darkfallen sect of once proud High Elves serving the Lich King."

And finally, he pointed to the right. "Valithria, who can still be saved, and Sindragosa, whose bones Arthas raised from the frozen ice of Icecrown."

Each had a different reaction to his words, especially when he mentioned who or what could be found there. At first, there was the surprise that he knew all this, but then his words settled in their minds.

Alexstrasza's head shot towards the right upon hearing of dragons being there, especially Valithria, who could still be saved, and sadness upon hearing Sindragosa's name and learning that her rest had been disturbed.

As for Sylvanas, her anger was twofold: one at Putricide for the horrific things he had done, and another anger filled with sadness for the San'layn, who had been twisted by Arthas in his service. She knew that pain well.

Liadrin had bowed her head and closed her eyes, saying a silent prayer, but she had long since hardened her heart, expecting something of the sort. The Light had warned her that she would find a pain most powerful in these cursed halls.

As for Uther and Darion, they simply set their jaws. Sadly, none of this surprised them. It simply reaffirmed their desire to see this through once and for all.

"Choose your paths," Light's Chosen spoke once they had absorbed his previous words.

Unsurprisingly, Alexstrasza pivoted to the right with Uther signaling for some others to join her. Surprisingly, Darion also joined her.

"I will deal with Putricide. The plague cannot touch me or my rangers," Sylvanas announced as her steps began to take her toward her goal.

Uther spared a glance at Jaina and Liadrin before walking after her. "I will join you. The Light will protect me." A radiant glow surrounded him at his words.

Liadrin and Jaina shared a glance and a mirthless smirk with each other. "Guess that means we will deal with my dark and fallen brethren together," Liadrin remarked.

The first thing to greet Sylvanas and Uther was a monstrously large and plague-ridden… dog. It was a dog, warped and twisted, now naught but an abomination.

A sneer crossed Sylvanas's face; she had faced similar creatures in Naxxramas. "Do not let the spores touch you," she called out to Uther. She could not be sure if this one could do the same, but it did not hurt to be prepared.

In the end, she worried for naught. The beast fell much easier than the one they had faced before, yet it was just a sign of things to come.

Soon, they came upon a door with stairs behind it, yet it would not open. A glance at the two hallways on either side led them to assume that a similar way barred their path. They had to clear out the two hallways.

They could not afford to split any more, so they would have to be careful of attacks from behind.

Traversing one of the hallways, they came upon another door. This one opened before them, even if they could have wished it didn't. For what greeted them inside was the stuff of nightmares, a creature stitched together with flesh and parts of many others.

A single glance at it would turn the stomach of anyone. Fortunately for Sylvanas and her rangers, undeath had numbed them to such sights, yet even so, she could not help the disgust she felt at the sight of it.

"Horrific," Uther muttered from beside her. A glance showed his disgust and anger at what was before him.

"YOU! You killed Precious! You DIE!" A childlike voice came from the abomination, just further horrifying those that beheld it.

As Uther raised his mace and prepared to attack, Sylvanas spotted the upper floor where a figure lurked—Putricide, no doubt. The door shutting behind them made her curse, but for now, they had to deal with this abomination.

Rothface lumbered forward, its massive stitched limbs dragging grotesquely across the floor. Uther surged ahead, his mace glowing with the Light, striking Rothface's chest with a forceful blow. The creature staggered but retaliated with a sweeping backhand, which Uther narrowly dodged.

"Focus fire on its joints!" Sylvanas commanded, her voice unwavering. She loosed a flurry of arrows, each one glowing with the holy light that suffused her and her rangers.

The arrows struck true, embedding in Rothface's knees and shoulders. The abomination roared in pain, a guttural, disturbing sound that echoed through the chamber. Sylvanas's rangers followed her lead, their arrows illuminating the grotesque figure with radiant bursts.

Uther saw an opening and rushed in, smashing his mace into Rothface's knee. The abomination stumbled, one leg giving out beneath its massive weight. Seizing the advantage, Sylvanas fired a precise shot into the creature's eye, blinding it and sending it into a frenzied rage.

Rothface lashed out blindly, swinging its arms in wide arcs. One of Sylvanas's rangers was caught in the path, the blow sending him crashing into the wall. The ranger struggled to his feet, light emanating from his wounds as he began to heal.

"We need to end this!" Uther shouted, dodging another wild swing. He channeled the Light, his entire form glowing with holy energy. "Sylvanas, now!"

Sylvanas nodded, her eyes narrowing in determination. She drew back an arrow, light gathering around it until it blazed like a miniature sun. She aimed for the creature's heart, or where its heart should be, and released.

The arrow flew straight and true, piercing Rothface's chest. Light exploded from the impact, engulfing the abomination in a radiant inferno. Rothface's roar was cut short as the light consumed it, the grotesque body disintegrating into ash and dust.

Breathing heavily, Sylvanas lowered her bow, her eyes scanning the chamber for any further threats. Uther stepped forward, his mace still glowing, but the room remained silent.

From the upper floor, a mocking laugh echoed. Putricide, watching the battle with glee, clapped his hands slowly. "Well done, well done! But you're not finished yet. There's much more fun to be had!"

Sylvanas glared up at him, her hands tightening around her bow. "Your time will come, Putricide," she vowed. "We will see to that."

Uther stepped beside her, his presence a steadying force. "One abomination down," he said. "Let's keep moving. We have much to do."

With grim determination, they prepared to face the next challenge, knowing that their mission had only just begun.

~~~~

After dealing with Festergut, their path to Putricide was at last open. The battles against both Rothface and Festergut had made them expend some of their strength, yet they could not stop now.

No, they had to finish this once and for all.

Ascending the stairs, they entered Putricide's laboratory of nightmares. Vials filled with all sorts of concoctions cluttered the tables around the room. The madman himself stood with his back turned toward them, mixing something at the table in front of him.

"Yes! Yes, yes, this will do nicely, hahaha," he gleefully spoke to himself before turning to face them.

"Good news, everyone! I think I've perfected a plague that will destroy all life on Azeroth!" he gloated, laughing maniacally while holding the vial in his hand, which shattered the next moment as Sylvanas loosed an arrow at it.

A horrific scream tore from Putricide's mouth as his own creation burned his arm.

Rage twisted Putricide's features as he clutched his scorched arm. "You dare! I'll turn you all into twisted minions of my own design!" he shrieked, grabbing several vials from the table and hurling them to the ground. A toxic cloud erupted, filling the room with a noxious green haze.

Sylvanas and her rangers, their undead nature shielding them from the plague's effects, moved forward unflinchingly. Uther, bathed in a radiant aura, channeled the Light to protect himself from the miasma. His eyes were locked on Putricide, determination burning within them.

"Rangers, fan out!" Sylvanas commanded, her voice sharp and clear. The rangers spread out, firing holy-infused arrows at Putricide, who danced nimbly around the room, dodging the projectiles with surprising agility.

Putricide retaliated, uncorking a flask and downing its contents in one gulp. His muscles bulged grotesquely, and his skin turned a sickly shade of green. "Feel the power of my alchemical prowess!" he bellowed, lunging forward with newfound strength.

He swung a massive, alchemically enhanced fist at Uther, who blocked the blow with his glowing shield, the impact reverberating through the chamber. Uther pushed back, his mace radiating holy light as he struck at Putricide's torso, eliciting a howl of pain from the mad scientist.

"Ooze, come to me!" Putricide screeched, throwing another vial to the ground. From the bubbling liquid emerged several green oozes, their gelatinous forms undulating as they slithered towards the group.

Sylvanas, eyes narrowed with focus, loosed a volley of arrows, each one piercing an ooze and causing it to writhe and dissolve. Her rangers followed suit, their combined assault dismantling the oozes before they could reach them.

Undeterred, Putricide hurled more vials, summoning larger, more menacing oozes that surged forward with greater speed. Uther stepped up, channeling the Light to create a barrier around him and his allies. The oozes slammed against the barrier, sizzling as the holy energy burned them away.

"You can't stop my creations!" Putricide roared, downing another vial. His form shifted, growing even more monstrous as pustules erupted across his skin, leaking noxious fluids.

Sylvanas darted forward, her blades flashing with holy light as she slashed at Putricide. He retaliated, swinging a massive, malformed arm at her. She nimbly dodged, her movements a blur as she struck again and again, her attacks precise and relentless.

Uther joined the fray, his mace crashing into Putricide's side with a resounding crack. The mad scientist staggered, his eyes wild with fury. "You will all perish in agony!" he screamed, hurling a final vial at the ground.

A massive explosion of green gas filled the room, but the Light's protection and their undead resilience shielded them from its effects. With a final, desperate roar, Putricide lunged at Uther, only to be met with a crushing blow from his mace.

Putricide fell to the ground, writhing and gasping. Sylvanas stood over him, her eyes cold and unforgiving. "Your reign of terror ends here," she declared, plunging her blade into his chest.

The room fell silent as Putricide's twisted form went limp. Sylvanas and Uther exchanged a grim nod, the battle won but the war far from over.

~~~~

Alexstrasza hurried down the hallway, determined to reach Valithria before it was too late. Too many dragons had already been twisted by the designs of the Scourge, and she would not allow another to fall!

Once she stepped foot in the chamber and saw the chained green dragon being assaulted, she flooded the room with her power, burning the attackers to cinders.

Her hurried steps took her to Valithria's weakened form. Weakly, Valithria opened her eye to see who had given her a moment's reprieve, but upon beholding Alexstrasza herself, her eyes shot open. "M-my... Queen. You should not be here! Flee this accursed place!"

Alexstrasza laid a gentle hand upon her head and allowed the healing power of the red dragonflight to fill Valithria. Even as steps heralded the arrival of more enemies.

Alexstrasza spared a glance at Darion. "She is in bad shape. I must devote my attention to healing her." Darion nodded resolutely. "Fear not, we will deal with these pests."

Darion turned to the others. "Protect them at all costs! Let no cursed abomination reach them!" A roar answered his words as they all prepared to push back and protect the dragons.

Darion's grip tightened around the Ashbringer, its blade glowing with holy light. He positioned himself at the forefront, his eyes scanning the room for incoming threats. The ground trembled as more Scourge poured into the chamber, their grotesque forms eager to strike.

"Hold the line!" Darion shouted, raising the Ashbringer high. Its radiance bolstered the morale of his allies, casting a comforting light amidst the encroaching darkness.

Alexstrasza knelt beside Valithria, her hands glowing with a warm, red light. "Focus on my voice, Valithria," she murmured, her tone soothing. "You are safe now. Let my strength restore you."

Valithria closed her eyes, a soft sigh escaping her lips as Alexstrasza's healing power coursed through her.

The first wave of enemies crashed against Darion and his defenders. With a fierce battle cry, Darion swung the Ashbringer, its divine edge cleaving through undead flesh with ease. Behind him, the other defenders, a mix of seasoned warriors and resilient survivors, fought with unyielding determination.

"Don't let them through!" Darion roared, parrying a blow from a ghoul and swiftly decapitating it. He glanced back briefly, ensuring Alexstrasza was undisturbed in her healing efforts. The sight of her calm focus amidst the chaos steeled his resolve.

A particularly large abomination barreled towards them, its multiple arms flailing wildly. Darion stepped forward, meeting its charge head-on. The Ashbringer clashed with the abomination's crude weapons, sparks flying from the impact.

"Die, monstrosity!" Darion shouted, pushing back with all his might. He ducked under a sweeping strike and drove the Ashbringer deep into the creature's belly. Holy light surged from the blade, consuming the abomination from within. It let out a gurgling roar before collapsing into a heap of rotting flesh.

Behind Darion, the defenders fought valiantly, their coordinated strikes keeping the relentless tide at bay. Arrows flew, spells crackled, and steel clashed against bone as they held their ground. The air was thick with the stench of decay and the cries of battle.

Darion's eyes caught movement from the corner of the room. A necromancer, shrouded in dark robes, chanted ominously, summoning more undead to the fray. "We've got a summoner!" he yelled, pointing the Ashbringer towards the threat. "Take him down!"

A group of rangers broke off from the main defense, their arrows aimed true. The necromancer, realizing the danger, tried to retreat but was struck down before he could escape. With his death, the flow of new undead slowed, giving the defenders a momentary reprieve.

Alexstrasza's voice was steady, unwavering, as she continued to heal Valithria. "Stay with me, Valithria. We need your strength," she urged softly, her hands never ceasing their gentle glow.

Darion stood at the center of the battle, the Ashbringer a beacon of hope. He swung it in wide arcs, each strike a burst of holy energy that purified the corrupted foes. Sweat and blood mingled on his brow, but he fought on, driven by a fierce determination to protect the dragons behind him.

"Push them back! For Azeroth!" Darion's rallying cry echoed through the chamber, inspiring his comrades to press the attack.

Gradually, the tide began to turn. The undead forces, deprived of reinforcements, were whittled down. The defenders, though weary, fought with renewed vigor, their spirits lifted by the sight of the Ashbringer cutting through their enemies.

Finally, the last of the Scourge fell, and the chamber grew quiet save for the labored breathing of the warriors. Darion lowered the Ashbringer, his gaze turning to Alexstrasza.

"How is she?" he asked, his voice steady despite the exhaustion.

Alexstrasza looked up, a gentle smile on her lips. "She will recover. Your bravery has given us the time we needed."

Darion nodded, relief flooding through him. "Good. Then let's move on. We still have much to do."

~~~~

After Alexstrasza helped the recovered Valithria depart through a portal to the Emerald Dream, they pressed on. Sindragosa, once consort to Malygos, awaited them.

As they came upon the next door, a vast balcony greeted them with two frostwyrms there, yet Alexstrasza did not see Sindragosa anywhere. Looking towards the horizon, she spotted her, hovering just close enough to see. Waiting, no doubt, to see if the two here would be enough or if she would need to act as well.

"We will need to put these two to rest before Sindragosa comes. I will... put her to rest myself," Alexstrasza finished with sadness in her voice. Sindragosa's life had ended in tragedy as Deathwing betrayed them, and it seemed even death had not been the end of her suffering.

Darion stepped forward, the Ashbringer held high, its radiant light casting long shadows across the balcony. "Then we waste no time. We will handle these frostwyrms."

The defenders formed a tight circle, their eyes scanning the sky as the two frostwyrms, their bones covered in a thin layer of ice, began to descend. Their chilling roars filled the air, shaking the very ground beneath their feet.

Alexstrasza's eyes narrowed with determination. "Be swift, but cautious. Their icy breath can freeze you where you stand."

The frostwyrms swooped down, jaws open wide as they unleashed a torrent of frost. Darion raised the Ashbringer, a shield of holy light enveloping him and his companions, deflecting the worst of the icy barrage.

"Archers, aim for their wings!" Darion commanded. "Ground them!"

The rangers, now positioned at the edges of the balcony, unleashed a volley of arrows, each one imbued with magic. The arrows struck true, puncturing the delicate membranes of the frostwyrms' wings.

With a thunderous crash, one of the frostwyrms plummeted to the ground, its wings crippled. Darion charged forward, the Ashbringer humming with divine energy as he brought it down upon the undead dragon's skull. A blinding flash of light accompanied the strike, and the frostwyrm's head shattered into fragments of bone and ice.

The second frostwyrm, enraged, lunged at the defenders, its icy breath freezing the air around them.

Alexstrasza, her eyes blazing with draconic fury, joined the fray. She summoned flames from her breath, directing them towards the frostwyrm. The intense heat clashed with the icy undead, causing steam to rise as the frostwyrm recoiled in pain.

Darion and his defenders pressed the advantage, striking at the frostwyrm's legs and underbelly. With coordinated effort, they brought the creature down, its bones collapsing into a heap of ice and dust.

As the last of the frostwyrms fell, a heavy silence descended upon the balcony. Alexstrasza took a deep breath, her gaze shifting to Sindragosa, who still hovered in the distance, watching.

"It is time," Alexstrasza said softly, her voice carrying the weight of millennia. "I must face her."

Darion nodded, stepping back to give the Dragon Queen room. "We will be here if you need us."

Alexstrasza stepped forward to the edge of the balcony, her form shifting to that of a majestic red dragon. Her wings unfurled, and with a powerful leap, she took to the sky, flying towards Sindragosa.

The two dragons, one of fire and life, the other of ice and death, circled each other in the air. Sindragosa let out a roar, her voice filled with anguish and fury. "Alexstrasza! You are fools to have come to this place! The icy winds of Northrend will consume your souls!"

Alexstrasza's voice, though draconic, was gentle and filled with sorrow. "Sindragosa, my sister. I come to end your suffering."

With that, the two dragons clashed. Sindragosa's icy breath met Alexstrasza's flames in a violent explosion of steam. Claws and teeth, fire and ice, the two dragons fought with a ferocity that shook the very heavens.

Back on the balcony, Darion and his companions watched, ready to intervene if needed. The battle raged on, each strike from Alexstrasza filled with the hope of releasing her fallen sister from her torment.

In a final, move, Alexstrasza wrapped her body around Sindragosa, her flames engulfing them both. "Be free, Sindragosa. Find peace," she whispered.

A brilliant light enveloped the two dragons, and when it faded, only Alexstrasza remained, her eyes filled with tears.

"It is done," she said, her voice trembling. "Sindragosa is at peace."

The defenders bowed their heads in respect for the fallen dragon, and then, with renewed determination, they prepared to face the next challenge, knowing that each step brought them closer to ending the Lich King's reign of terror.

~~~~

Jaina spared a glance at Liadrin beside her. Though the woman had attempted some levity before entering this chamber, Jaina couldn't presume to know how she felt about facing these twisted versions of her own people.

Light's Chosen had not expanded much on what lay ahead, but from what little he did say, it was clear the elves they would encounter here would be monstrous.

As they entered the chamber, a pulsing red orb filled with vile magic greeted them. A voice echoed from the shadows.

"Foolish mortals. The San'layn are the Lich King's immortal soldiers! Now you shall face their might combined! Rise up, brothers, and destroy our enemies!" commanded a twisted female voice. Magic exploded from the orb as three male elves rose, a dark thread connecting them to the orb.

Jaina wasn't certain at first, but now she was sure – this was blood magic. Arthas had twisted these elves into blood-hungry creatures.

Liadrin stepped forward, her steps sure and her stance unwavering. She thrust her sword ahead and spoke with conviction. "Cursed abominations! I will put you out of your misery!" Light shone brightly from her blade.

Screams of rage erupted from the three men at her radiance. "Ah! Accursed Light! Traitorous Light! Come to make us suffer once more!" Their voices overlapped with one another in a cacophony of hatred and pain.

The female voice rang out again, filled with venom. "How dare you! You call us abominations, yet you use the same Light that forsook us in our darkest time! KILL THEM!"

Jaina, Liadrin, and the nameless men and women accompanying them readied themselves for battle against the Blood Prince Council.

The three blood princes, Valanar, Keleseth, and Taldaram, advanced with a terrifying swiftness, their forms flickering with dark energy. Jaina immediately began casting protective spells, shielding her allies from the initial onslaught of dark magic.

"Focus your attacks!" Jaina called out, her voice calm and commanding. "We need to sever their connection to that orb!"

Liadrin charged forward, her sword glowing with holy light. She swung at Valanar, who parried with a blade of blood-red energy. "You will find no mercy here!" Valanar hissed, his eyes burning with hatred.

Keleseth, wielding dark shadows, flung bolts of blood magic at the group. Jaina countered with a shield of ice, absorbing the impact and retaliating with a blast of arcane energy that sent Keleseth staggering back.

Taldaram, the third prince, summoned orbs of fire and blood, hurling them towards the group. The ground where they landed erupted in flames. Liadrin's paladins moved swiftly, using their shields to block the worst of the blasts while returning fire with their own holy magic.

As the battle raged, Jaina noticed the pulsing red orb in the center of the room seemed to be the source of the princes' power. "Liadrin! The orb! We need to destroy it!" she shouted.

Liadrin nodded, understanding immediately. She directed her forces to push the princes back, creating a path for Jaina. With the path clear, Jaina began to weave a complex spell, drawing on the power of frost and arcane.

"Protect Lady Jaina!" Liadrin commanded, her voice ringing with authority. Her paladins formed a defensive perimeter, fending off the enraged attacks of the blood princes.

The air crackled with magical energy as Jaina's spell took form. With a final gesture, she unleashed a beam of pure arcane power at the orb. The room shook as the orb shattered, the dark threads connecting the princes to it snapping violently.

The blood princes screamed in agony, their powers waning. Valanar fell to one knee, clutching his chest. "No... This cannot be!" he roared.

Liadrin seized the opportunity, charging at Valanar with her sword held high. "For the Light!" she cried, striking him down with a single, decisive blow.

Jaina turned her attention to Keleseth and Taldaram, who were now weakened and disoriented. With coordinated precision, she and Liadrin's forces pressed the attack, overwhelming the remaining princes. Keleseth fell to a barrage of holy light and arcane missiles, while Taldaram was brought low by Liadrin's relentless assault.

As the last of the blood princes fell, the chamber grew quiet, save for the heavy breathing of the victorious warriors. Jaina lowered her staff, her gaze sweeping over the fallen foes.

"It is done," Liadrin said, her voice soft but resolute. "Their torment is over."

Jaina nodded, a sense of grim satisfaction settling over her. "Let's move on."

~~~~

As they ascended the walkways behind the room, Jaina and Liadrin entered what appeared to be a throne room. There, seated on the throne, was the owner of the female voice they had heard earlier.

While the three princes they had fought before had been changed, they still looked much as they had in life. But the woman before them, Blood-Queen Lana'thel, had been transformed so completely that she possessed demonic wings and looked more like a demon than the High Elf she had once been.

"Pitiful," Lana'thel sneered as she rose from her throne. "Do you think you have achieved anything? All your efforts are in vain. Once I deal with you, I will revive them, and we will destroy all you foolish invaders. None can stand against the Lich King's might."

Her eyes burned with power and anger as she focused on Liadrin. "Your pitiful Light will not save you! It will abandon you as it did our people before. You are foolish to ever place your trust in it again."

Liadrin snorted. "Foolish? The only fool I see here is you. Calling the very abomination that brought such pain and misery upon our homeland and its people 'master.' I would rather die a thousand deaths than ever submit to such an accursed creature." In response to her words, the Light shone ever brighter around her.

She had worried that by coming to this godforsaken place her connection to the Light would be weakened, yet it was as strong as ever. Perhaps it was the simple presence of Light's Chosen that ensured this? She couldn't be certain, but she would use all the strength in her possession to put an end to this once and for all.

"That can be arranged," Blood-Queen Lana'thel spoke in a silky voice full of dark promises.

The battle began with an explosion of dark energy from Lana'thel, sending shockwaves through the chamber. Jaina and Liadrin quickly spread out, knowing that this fight would be far more challenging than the one against the three princes.

Jaina summoned a barrage of arcane missiles, aiming for Lana'thel's wings to try and ground her. Lana'thel deftly avoided the attack, her demonic wings allowing her to maneuver with terrifying speed. She countered with a wave of blood magic that Jaina barely managed to shield against.

Liadrin charged forward, her sword blazing with holy light. "By the Light, you will be purged!" she declared, swinging her blade in a powerful arc. Lana'thel met her strike with a sword conjured from blood magic, the clash of their weapons sending sparks flying.

"You think the Light can save you here?" Lana'thel hissed, her eyes glowing with malevolent energy. She unleashed a torrent of blood magic that knocked Liadrin back, but the paladin quickly recovered, her faith unshaken.

Jaina took the opportunity to launch a series of frostbolts, aiming to slow Lana'thel's movements. The blood-queen snarled as the icy spells struck her, momentarily hindering her agility. "You will not stop me!" she roared, sending a swarm of blood-infused bats at Jaina.

Jaina conjured a barrier of ice, the bats shattering against it. "We will end your reign of terror!" she shouted, her voice filled with determination. She then summoned a blizzard, the freezing winds and ice shards adding to Lana'thel's difficulties.

Liadrin pressed the attack, her strikes imbued with holy light. Each blow seemed to burn Lana'thel, her demonic form smoking where the Light touched her. "Your darkness will be vanquished!" Liadrin cried out, her faith bolstering her strength.

Lana'thel's fury grew, her attacks becoming more frenzied. She unleashed a powerful blast of blood magic, throwing both Jaina and Liadrin across the chamber. "You cannot win! The Lich King's power is absolute!" she screamed.

Struggling to her feet, Liadrin cast a quick healing spell on herself and Jaina. "We need to break her connection to the Lich King!" Jaina yelled over the din of battle. She began channeling a complex spell, gathering the energies needed for a decisive strike.

Liadrin nodded, holding off Lana'thel with a series of rapid attacks. "For the Light!" she shouted, her resolve unbroken.

As Jaina's spell reached its peak, she unleashed a massive surge of arcane energy directly at Lana'thel. The blood-queen was momentarily stunned, her connection to the Lich King visibly weakening.

"Now, Liadrin!" Jaina called out.

With a final, radiant burst of holy light, Liadrin struck Lana'thel's heart. The blood-queen let out a scream of agony as the Light consumed her, her demonic form dissolving into nothingness.

The chamber fell silent, the oppressive darkness lifting. Jaina and Liadrin stood victorious, their breaths heavy but their spirits unbroken.

"It is done," Liadrin said, her voice filled with relief. "She is finally at peace."

Jaina nodded, her gaze fixed on where Lana'thel had stood. "We must continue. The Lich King awaits, and we will stop him."

Together, they gathered their strength and prepared to press on, determined to see their mission through to the end.

---

 

[Kordelius]

It was obvious when the Lich King's most powerful servants fell; not only did their malicious auras vanish, but the teleportation pad that would transport them to the top of Icecrown Spire, to the Frozen Throne itself, lit up.

The path to the Lich King was open, and impatience surged within the Light's Chosen. He almost took a step forward when a twinkling voice spoke in his ear, stilling his movement and dispersing his sudden impatience. "Will you deny them the chance to face their enemy?"

He still had time. Those who had come this far had earned the right to face the fallen prince and gain closure, whether for their vengeance or their regret. It would not do to rob them of the very reason they had come here.

Sylvanas had trusted him, accepted the hand he offered, and sworn herself and her people to his cause. She allowed the Light's embrace to hold her once more, even if she embodied its vengeance most of all. She would not know peace until her vengeance was fulfilled. The satisfaction she would gain from it might be fleeting, but allowing such an unresolved desire to remain would only hinder her.

Uther had come to him due to his own regret and desire for justice, not just for himself but for all those who had suffered due to his failure to stop his once apprentice. To him, this was a chance to earn some measure of redemption.

Jaina's purpose here was simple yet no less heavy. She sought to put to rest the man she had once, and perhaps still, loved. No doubt she also harbored regrets due to her choice at the gates of Stratholme. No doubt she had agonized over that decision, wondering if a different choice might have altered the threads of fate.

Darion sought vengeance for his father as much as he sought to live up to the heavy mantle he had been burdened with. For a moment, the Light's Chosen wondered if he had thrust too much upon Darion's shoulders.

No, he had all it took to live up to the charge entrusted to him. He must, if this world is to survive.

Liadrin, his greatest hope, carried the heaviest of burdens. She and her order were both the vanguard and the shield of this world. Should she falter…

"She won't. I will remain to guide her," the voice assured him, surprising him. He had not expected such words.

"You have given much. The least I can do is ensure that it does not go to waste," the voice continued, a sad levity reflected in its tone.

"I do not regret the choices I have made," the Light's Chosen spoke resolutely as he beheld the others returning.

Sylvanas and Uther walked side by side, their expressions grim but determined. Jaina's face was a mask of resolve, though her eyes betrayed the turmoil within. Darion's grip on the Ashbringer was tight, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. Liadrin, glowing with the Light's power, led her paladins with a steady, unwavering presence.

They gathered around the now-activated teleportation pad. The Light's Chosen looked at each of them, their faces etched with the trials they had faced and the ones yet to come.

"This is it," he said, his voice carrying the weight of their shared purpose. "The final step. The Lich King awaits us."

Sylvanas nodded, her eyes blazing with a cold fire. "For all the lives he's ruined, for all the suffering he's caused, we will end him."

Uther's face was a mask of stern determination. "Justice will be served."

Jaina took a deep breath, her voice steady. "We do this together. For everyone who has fallen."

Darion's grip on the Ashbringer tightened. "For my father, for our future."

Liadrin's voice was calm, yet powerful. "The Light will guide us. We will not falter."

The Light's Chosen smiled, a rare expression of warmth amidst the cold of Icecrown. "Then let us go. For Azeroth."

As one, they stepped onto the teleportation pad, their forms dissolving into light as they were transported to the pinnacle of Icecrown Citadel. The air grew colder, and the oppressive presence of the Lich King could be felt even before they saw him.

The Frozen Throne loomed before them, and upon it sat the Lich King, Arthas Menethil, his icy gaze fixed upon them. The final battle awaited, the fate of Azeroth hanging in the balance.

~~~~

The frigid air of the Frozen Throne enveloped them as they materialized at the pinnacle of Icecrown Citadel. The vast, icy expanse stretched out around them, and the oppressive presence of the Lich King grew palpable. Sitting upon his throne, Arthas Menethil, the Lich King, regarded them with a cold, calculating gaze.

As they stepped forward, the Lich King rose from his throne, Frostmourne clutched in his hand, its dark power radiating around him. His voice, deep and mocking, echoed through the icy chamber.

"So, the champions of the Light have come to face me," Arthas began, his tone dripping with scorn. "How touching."

He turned his gaze to Uther, his once mentor, now his enemy. "Uther the Lightbringer," Arthas sneered. "You failed to stop me once before. You could not stop me then, and you will not stop me now. Your righteousness is as hollow as your grave."

Uther's face hardened, his grip on his mace tightening. "Your soul is lost, Arthas. I will see justice done for the countless lives you've destroyed."

Arthas merely chuckled, then turned his attention to Sylvanas. "Sylvanas Windrunner," he said, his voice a mockery of sympathy. "The Banshee Queen, now cloaked in the Light you once spurned. Do you truly believe that vengeance will bring you peace? You are a puppet, even now, but this time, your strings are pulled by the Light."

Sylvanas's eyes blazed with fury. "I will see you broken, Arthas. You will pay for every atrocity you've committed, every soul you've twisted."

Arthas's gaze shifted to Jaina, and a cruel smile spread across his face. "Jaina Proudmoore. Ever the sentimental fool. You could have stood with me, could have ruled beside me. But instead, you chose to turn away. Do you still dream of what might have been? Do you still love the man I once was?"

Jaina's eyes were filled with a mixture of sorrow and determination. "The man I loved is gone, Arthas. Only the monster remains, and that monster must be stopped."

Next, Arthas's gaze fell upon Darion Mograine, the wielder of the Ashbringer. "Darion, son of Alexandros. You wield the blade that once brought terror to the Scourge. Yet, you are but a shadow of your father. Do you think your borrowed power will save you? You are as doomed as the rest."

Darion's expression was grim, his resolve unshaken. "I am my father's legacy, Arthas. The Ashbringer's light will cleanse this world of your darkness."

Finally, Arthas looked at Liadrin, the Matriarch of the Sentinels of Light. "Liadrin. Your people were left to wither and die, abandoned by the Light you now so fervently serve. Do you truly believe it will save you now? You are nothing but a pawn in a game far beyond your understanding."

Liadrin's voice was calm, her faith unwavering. "The Light did not abandon us. It is a beacon that guides us through the darkest times. And it will guide us now, to end your reign of terror."

Finally, Arthas turned his attention to the Light's Chosen, who stood silently observing his foe. "To think all of them follow you so eagerly. I wonder, would they do the same if they knew the truth?" A hollow chuckle escaped Arthas. "That you are naught but—"

Whatever Arthas was about to say would never be known, for he was bathed in a beam of Light that pierced both the heavens and the spatial manipulation enveloping this place, drawing agonized screams from his mouth as the Light burned his undead flesh.

"Be silent, mongrel. Your voice grates on my ears," the Light's Chosen sneered with more anger than any of them had heard before. Light surged from him as his emotions were at last unleashed—anger, pain, satisfaction, eagerness.

The battle began with a thunderous clash, the Light's Chosen charging forward, his blade of Light striking against Frostmourne. The sheer force of the impact sent shockwaves across the place. The others followed suit, each attacking from their position.

Uther swung his mace with righteous fury, striking Arthas's side. Jaina conjured torrents of arcane energy, blasting the Lich King with frost and fire. Darion, wielding the Ashbringer, engaged in a deadly dance, his strikes filled with the power of the Light. Liadrin's sword blazed as she channeled her faith into every swing, while Alexstrasza, in her dragon form, unleashed torrents of flame, adding to the onslaught.

Despite their combined might, Arthas proved to be a formidable foe. He parried their attacks with ease, his dark magic countering their Light. His laughter echoed through the chamber, mocking their efforts.

"You are all fools! You cannot stop me!"

With a sweep of Frostmourne, he unleashed a wave of necrotic energy, sending several nameless heroes flying, their bodies crashing into the icy walls. Arthas then raised his blade, and the fallen warriors began to stir, their eyes glowing with the Lich King's dark power. They rose as mindless undead, turning against their former comrades.

The battle became even more chaotic. Uther and Darion struggled to fend off the reanimated dead, their attacks now divided. Jaina conjured barriers of ice to protect the group, but it was a desperate fight. Liadrin rallied the remaining forces, her voice cutting through the chaos, urging them to stand firm.

Alexstrasza roared, her flames incinerating the undead, but even she could not destroy them all. The Lich King, seeing his advantage, pressed the attack, his strikes growing more brutal and relentless.

The Light's Chosen stood in the center, a beacon of hope amidst the darkness. He parried Frostmourne with his blade of Light, their clash sending sparks into the air. "You will fall today, Arthas. Your reign of terror ends here."

Arthas's eyes burned with unholy fire. "You are naive, child. I am eternal. I am death incarnate!"

The Light's Chosen and Arthas clashed again, their weapons colliding in a brilliant explosion of light and dark. The others fought valiantly around them, struggling against both the Lich King and the reanimated dead.

Uther and Darion fought side by side, their bond as warriors of the Light unbreakable. Uther's mace crushed the skulls of the undead, while Darion's Ashbringer cleaved through them, leaving trails of purifying light in its wake.

Jaina, standing slightly apart, summoned a storm of ice and fire. Her spells danced around her allies, striking at Arthas and the undead with pinpoint accuracy. Each blast of arcane power was a testament to her determination to end this nightmare once and for all.

Liadrin's blade shimmered with holy power, every strike a prayer, every swing a testament to her faith. She rallied the remaining heroes, her voice a clarion call amidst the chaos. "Hold fast! For the Light! For Azeroth!"

Alexstrasza, in her majestic dragon form, unleashed torrents of flame, reducing the undead to ash. Her roars echoed through the chamber, a symbol of hope and strength. But even she found it difficult to counter the relentless tide of darkness.

Arthas, sensing the tide turning against him, unleashed his full power. Frostmourne blazed with dark energy as he summoned more undead to his side. He raised his blade, chanting an incantation that filled the chamber with an oppressive aura.

"You think you can defeat me? I am the Lich King! I am death!"

A pulse of dark magic erupted from Frostmourne, knocking everyone back. The newly risen undead surged forward, attacking with renewed ferocity. The heroes struggled to hold their ground, their strength waning.

The Light's Chosen, undeterred, pushed forward. He raised his blade, channeling the Light's power into a radiant beam that pierced the darkness. It struck Arthas, forcing him back, but the Lich King quickly retaliated, slashing with Frostmourne and summoning more dark magic.

Arthas's voice rang out, filled with malice. "You will join them in death, fool. You will know the true meaning of despair!"

With a wave of his hand, Arthas summoned a massive wave of necrotic energy, aimed at obliterating the heroes. The Light's Chosen, standing firm, raised his hand and channeled all his power into a protective barrier of Light. The dark energy crashed against it, but the barrier held, glowing with the power of the Light.

"Your reign ends here, Arthas!" the Light's Chosen declared, his voice filled with determination.

Arthas snarled, his eyes burning with unholy fire. "You are nothing, child! Nothing but a pawn in a game you cannot comprehend!"

With a final, desperate sweep of Frostmourne, Arthas unleashed a wave of dark energy, intending to finish them all. The air grew cold, and a sense of dread filled the room as the power of Frostmourne surged, threatening to consume everything.

In that moment, the Light's Chosen summoned every ounce of his strength and faith. A beam of pure Light erupted from him, countering the dark energy and enveloping Arthas in a blinding radiance. The Lich King screamed in agony as the Light burned through him, breaking his connection to Frostmourne.

The others seized the opportunity. Uther and Darion struck simultaneously, their weapons cutting deep. Jaina unleashed a torrent of arcane might, while Liadrin's blade found its mark, piercing Arthas's heart. Alexstrasza's fire enveloped him, burning away the last of his resistance.

Arthas staggered, his grip on Frostmourne loosening. "No… this cannot be… I am the Lich King…"

With a wave of the Light's Chosen's hand, chains of pure Light bound Arthas's mangled form. Power surged from him, piercing the heavens and burning away the remaining undead. Both he and Arthas began to float into the air as the Light's Chosen's voice boomed across space and time itself.

"I SUMMON THEE." A shockwave rippled across the very sky, dispersing the clouds that had long darkened the skies of Icecrown. Instead of a blue sky, they were greeted by stars swimming in the endless dark sea.

Just as it seemed his words and actions would not amount to anything, forms began to appear—strange beings made up of floating crystals. The Naaru had answered the call and had let their minds travel across space to answer this call.

While those of Azeroth knew not who these beings were, the Draenei did, and their whispers drew the attention of others. They explained who the beings that now surrounded the Light's Chosen and the bound Lich King were.

"Why have you summoned us here?" one of the Naaru spoke, their voice like the echoing of twinkling glass.

"To pass judgment," the Light's Chosen answered strongly, his voice unwavering even before the many Naaru surrounding him.

The Naaru shifted their attention to Arthas, contemplating in silence for a moment.

"Arthas Menethil. You once held such promise; the Light favored you even. You were to be its champion." Sadness echoed in the voice of the one who spoke.

Arthas sneered, his eyes burning with defiance. "Promise? Champion?" his laughter filled the air. "False hopes and lies are all you have. I found true power."

The Naaru's light dimmed slightly, as if in mourning. "You have embraced darkness, Arthas. You have wrought untold suffering upon the world."

"And I'd do it all again!" Arthas spat. "Power is all that matters. Compassion, hope, love—they are weaknesses. I am beyond your judgment."

The Naaru remained silent for a moment, their collective sorrow palpable. Then, the one who had spoken before responded, "If you cannot see the error of your ways, then there is no redemption for you."

The Light's Chosen raised his hand, and the chains binding Arthas tightened, glowing with an intense light. The Naaru began to chant, their voices harmonizing into a resonant, otherworldly melody. The stars above seemed to pulse in time with their song.

"Arthas Menethil, you are judged and found wanting. Your existence has been a blight upon this world. You shall be erased, not even your soul will remain."

Arthas's sneer faltered as the light around him intensified. "No... you can't—" His words were cut off as the light enveloped him completely, his form dissolving into nothingness. The very essence of his being was consumed by the Light, leaving no trace behind.

The Naaru's chant reached a crescendo, and then there was silence. The Light's Chosen descended back to the ground, his expression solemn. The skies above began to clear, revealing a dawn that had not been seen in Icecrown for a long time.

"It is done," the Light's Chosen said softly. "Arthas Menethil and Ner'zhul are is no more."

The heroes looked around, the weight of their victory heavy upon them. They had faced the greatest darkness and emerged victorious. The world was free from Arthas's tyranny, and a new era of hope had begun.

---

Only the Epilogue left after this chapter. Will post it in a few days and then this story will be done.

 

[Kordelius]

"It is done," the last words of the Naaru echoed in the stillness before their forms shimmered away, leaving an ethereal glow in their wake.

For a moment, silence reigned. The Light's Chosen descended, and everyone stood in a state of befuddled awe. Then, the first cheer rang out, piercing the quiet. It was quickly followed by another, and soon, the noise rose to a jubilant crescendo as the heroes began to celebrate their hard-earned victory.

Jaina allowed the chorus of cheers to lift her spirits, but the sadness and ache in her heart remained. She stared at the spot where Arthas had been, her thoughts a whirlwind of memories and regrets.

"Time will heal these wounds," Liadrin's voice broke through Jaina's reverie. The matriarch laid a comforting hand on Jaina's shoulder, her eyes full of understanding and compassion.

Jaina took a deep breath, exhaling heavily as she let Liadrin's words settle. She managed a small smile. "Yes, it will. But some wounds leave scars that never truly fade."

Liadrin gave her a reassuring squeeze. "We bear those scars as reminders of what we've fought for and what we've lost. They make us stronger, even if the pain never fully leaves us."

Jaina placed her hand atop Liadrin's. "And you, Liadrin? How are you holding up?"

For a moment, Liadrin was silent. She looked up at the sky, now clear and blue as the dark clouds dispersed. "I am at peace. A great evil that plagued this world has been laid low. The relief I feel is profound, even if the path here was paved with sorrow."

Jaina nodded, finding solace in Liadrin's strength. "Yes, today we've achieved something monumental. The world can breathe a sigh of relief."

Alexstrasza joined them, her presence radiating calm and warmth. "Indeed," she said, her voice soothing. "The world breathes a collective sigh of relief. On this day, we have struck a decisive blow against the darkness that threatened to consume us all."

Her words resonated deeply, a balm for their weary souls. The feeling of victory hung heavy in the air, mingling with the bittersweet acknowledgment of the battles fought and lives lost. They had triumphed, and while the scars would remain, so too would the strength and unity forged in the crucible of their struggle.

~~~~

Darion raised the Ashbringer and gazed at its radiant glow. "It is done, Father. Arthas is no more. May you find peace at last."

Approaching footsteps drew his attention, and he turned to regard Uther's approaching form. The old paladin looked less weary, as if a great weight had finally lifted from his shoulders. In truth, it had. Uther's greatest mistake had been rectified. It had cost a lot of sorrow and suffering, but he had earned his redemption, and Darion felt glad for him.

In his heart, Darion had never blamed Uther for anything Arthas had done. None could have foreseen the dark and twisted path the once-noble prince would tread, nor the suffering and horror he would leave in his wake.

"It is strange," Darion began once Uther was close enough, earning a raised brow from the older man. "I had at one point lost hope that this day would ever come."

Uther was silent for a moment, ruminating on Darion's words. "I understand that. The day I died, I was filled with regret. To be here now, to face those regrets and overcome them, is more than I could have ever imagined."

Unsaid was that Uther was not alone in his feelings. All those who had answered the call at Light's Hope Chapel that day likely felt the same.

Darion let his mind wander back to the path they had taken to arrive here. If one thing stood out, it was determination. From the first steps, they had not stopped or allowed anything to stop them, moving forward with unwavering resolve.

Still, a new question arose in Darion's mind—what now? Would peace truly reign? Would they return and rebuild Lordaeron, their home?

As he turned to ask Uther, the old paladin patted Darion's shoulder and gave him a sad smile before walking forward to stand next to the Light's Chosen, who had moved towards the edge and was simply gazing at the horizon.

A strange sensation passed through Darion, and a nagging suspicion began to form in his mind, one that gave him great sorrow. He watched Uther and the Light's Chosen, feeling the weight of the moment. The victory they had achieved was monumental, but the path ahead remained uncertain.

The cheers of their comrades and the distant sound of celebration faded into the background as Darion's thoughts turned inward. He knew that even with Arthas defeated, the world would need to heal, and the scars left by the Lich King's reign would take time to mend. Yet, as he stood there, the radiant glow of the Ashbringer in his hand, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. They had faced the darkness and emerged victorious. Now, they would face the future with the same determination and hope.

~~~~

Sylvanas stood with her rangers, her dark shadows looming behind her. She raised her hand and gazed at the light she felt coursing through her before finally allowing it to leave her.

For a moment, the Light seemed confused, even sad, as if reluctant to part from her. "Where I go, you cannot follow," Sylvanas whispered quietly. In truth, she did not want to leave the embrace of the Light. It had allowed her to experience life again, and the empty feeling of undeath she would feel once more frightened her.

Yet the weight in her other hand steeled her resolve. She had chosen her path; there was still much for her to do, and she would see it done.

The Light lingered for a moment, expressing its sorrow at her decision before slowly withdrawing. Yet a promise remained: should she ever call upon it again, it would answer.

As the Light left her and her rangers, a chill settled upon her once more, the grasping hands of death tugging at her. But she broke its hold with contemptuous ease.

Her eyes flickered towards the Light's Chosen, and for a moment, she felt sorrow in her dead and empty heart.

~~~~

It did not take long for the celebrating champions to notice something amiss. Many of their comrades began to glow and even grow transparent. While this phenomenon alarmed some, those experiencing it seemed calm and serene. Instead of panic, they wore contented smiles as they disappeared into motes of Light.

Among them was Uther, whose form had also begun to grow see-through. He released a rueful chuckle. "I suppose it is time." He turned towards the confused faces and smiled reassuringly.

"Be at ease, this is how it was always going to be. Our task here is finished, the life that was given to us has run its course. To be here, to take part in all of this, and to see this beautiful world once more—it is more than I could have ever hoped for.

"So feel no sorrow, instead celebrate this day! Treasure the bonds forged here, for they will help you through the darkest of days!" His voice boomed as he addressed those before him, imparting his final words of wisdom.

Then he turned towards the still and silent Light's Chosen. "I thank you for this chance, lad." Uther's voice was filled with gratitude and peace. The Light's Chosen nodded, a deep respect and sadness in his eyes.

With that, Uther disappeared, his form dissolving into radiant motes of Light that drifted upwards and faded into the ether. The silence that followed was filled with a mix of reverence and melancholy.

The remaining champions watched in awe and silence as more of their fallen comrades departed in the same way. This final act of ascension was a reminder of the profound sacrifices made and the eternal peace now granted to those who had given their all.

Sylvanas, observing the scene, felt a pang of sorrow mixed with understanding. She knew her path diverged from the Light's, but the respect and camaraderie shared in this moment would stay with her.

Jaina, Darion, and Liadrin felt the weight of the moment as well, each drawing their own strength and resolve from the words of their departed comrades. Alexstrasza, watched with a solemn grace, acknowledging the sacrifice and the victory they had achieved.

~~~~

Liadrin felt a surge of confusion as she witnessed Uther and many others disappearing, but she had no time to ponder as the Light urged her forward. She didn't understand at first, but then she saw him—Light's Chosen's armor was crumbling, and he was about to fall. With a burst of speed, she rushed forward and caught him before he hit the ground. She had braced herself to catch a large man, so imagine her surprise when a boy, nay, a teen fell into her arms. Her eyes grew wide as she beheld his face for the first time and saw his youth.

Her wide eyes silently observed his serene face as he gave her a tired smile. A sound of twinkling crystals drew her attention away to see that the armor the Light's Chosen had been wearing was transforming until a Naaru floated before her, not merely an illusion but truly there.

Her eyes shot from the teen in her arms to the floating Naaru, and many things began to click in her mind.

A raspy voice drew her gaze back to the boy. Where before his face was serene, now she saw fear in his eyes. "Please… don't put me in the dark. I wish to remain in the Light, please."

A chill gripped Liadrin's heart at his words, and Light engulfed her hand instantly as she attempted to heal him. Yet no matter how hard she tried, his life kept fading more and more.

Her head shot up towards the floating Naaru. "Help him!" she pleaded desperately. For a moment, the Naaru floated there silently, and she was about to scream at it again.

Then its serene voice spoke. "I cannot. The candle of his life has been spent." Its callous words struck Liadrin like weapon blows, yet she would not surrender so easily. Once more, she called upon the Light and sought to preserve him. The more she failed, the more she cursed and raged at the Light for allowing this to transpire.

A hand laid upon Liadrin's, and her tear-filled eyes locked with the boy's. "Don't worry. I accepted this long ago. I leave the rest… to… you." And with that, he died. All Liadrin could do was pull his body closer to her chest and weep in sorrow.

The only sounds that could be heard were Liadrin's sobs, the chill wind, and the twinkling of the Naaru's crystals as the man they all chose to follow passed.

Footsteps approached Liadrin, and as she looked up, she beheld Sylvanas's undead gaze once more. The lack of Light she felt from the woman took her aback for a moment.

"Do not squander it," Sylvanas's emotionless voice rang out, confusing many. "Life is for the living, and you have been given a chance to chart your own path. Do not squander the sacrifice he has made for you." Her words held a dark promise, foretelling the fate that would await them should they fail.

After that, Sylvanas's form became a shadow, and she and her rangers departed, leaving Liadrin to mourn and the others to reflect on the heavy burden now placed upon them.

~~~~

Sally cursed her swollen ankles once more as she trudged along the path. No matter how often she healed them, they would swell up again like clockwork.

"I told you to rest," a bemused voice spoke from beside her. She shot a glare at Darion, walking beside her, and let out a haughty huff before stubbornly pressing on.

Their destination was a statue erected on the Isle of Quel'Danas, a statue of the Light's Chosen.

The days following the battle of Icecrown were tumultuous. Many had witnessed the disappearance of the risen heroes, but their departure was easily explained. The Light had granted them an opportunity, and they had taken it. Now that their task was done, they returned to their rest once more.

While not the entire truth, it was close enough, and belief in the Light only grew stronger.

The sudden death of all undead—Scourge and Forsaken alike—was harder to explain. Not even those who stood atop Icecrown understood the real reason.

Jaina had glimpsed the Helm of Domination in Sylvanas's hand before her departure. Speculation arose that she had used it to kill all the undead. It would fit with her words: life is for the living.

It seemed the last act of Sylvanas Windrunner was to save them from the headache of dealing with hordes of undead. Any attempts to locate the once Ranger-General met with failure. Wherever she had gone, it seemed she did not desire to be found.

Even the Light would give no insights into her whereabouts or actions. Whether it did not know or chose not to divulge the information remained a mystery.

While that was difficult to explain, the absence of the Light's Chosen was noticed immediately.

Arguments erupted over what to reveal. Some argued against revealing his death, but Xe'na, the Naaru who had been his companion, shot that down. In her words, it was best to remember him as an inspiration rather than planting false hope of his possible return.

In the end, they chose to reveal only his death, stating that he had used all his strength to save them and end the Lich King's reign of terror.

His age and connection to Xe'na, as the main source of his power, were kept secret. Xe'na agreed to become his armor once more, transporting him to the Isle of Quel'Danas so he would remain in the Light as he had asked of Liadrin.

None opposed making this his final resting place, and a grand statue was erected above his tomb.

Even months later, visitors from around the world came to pay their respects at his grave.

Sally, with her swollen ankles and accompanied by Darion, was among them today. In the aftermath, they had reconnected, their once friendship rekindled and grown into the love they now shared.

Sally had not kept silent that the child in her womb was not Darion's. Only the two of them knew whose child it was, and Darion was more than willing to be a father to the child, allaying any suspicions about the unborn babe.

As they neared the statue, they saw another already there—Liadrin, clad in her armor as usual. The serious air around her raised their worries.

"I will not fail you," were the only words they heard before Liadrin turned and walked past them, offering a simple nod as her steady steps took her away.

Darion sighed beside Sally. "It is going to start, it seems." She turned her confused eyes toward him, but he only gave her a sad smile. She rolled her eyes, knowing whatever was being kept a secret had to do with that golden-winged woman who had arrived a month ago and requested to speak with Liadrin.

Since that day, a weight had fallen upon Liadrin and her order, and it seemed Darion had been drawn in as well. While it galled her not to know what was going on, she consoled herself with the thought that she would learn sooner or later.

At last, they arrived at the statue. Sally allowed her eyes to roam over it, as they did every time she came here. Darion laid down the flowers he had been carrying before stepping beside her, allowing Sally to lean into his embrace as they enjoyed a moment of peace and tranquility.

---

Aaanddd that's a wrap. This story has come to it's end, hopefully the journey had been fun for you