Resurgence of the Light [Warcraft]

[Kordelius]

Velen was silently gazing at his people, pondering their past, present, and future. The tragedies his people had suffered at the hands of others and, worst of all, their own, all in the name of power, jealousy, and anger.

Not a day went by that he did not consider the fall of Archimonde and Kil'jaeden and the fracturing of their people. For so long, their people had walked in the Light, and yet all it took was but a moment for darkness to fill the hearts of many, leading them astray.

Worse yet, the few who chose to remain in the Light were now hunted by their own fallen brethren. Settling on this world, they had attempted to rebuild and had done so. For a time, they even enjoyed peace, yet they were found, and Orcs, who had lived here long before them, were corrupted and used as a weapon against them.

So many were killed once more, desecrated even. Now once more they fled and hid. Profound sadness gripped his heart at the way those who looked to him for leadership suffered under his rule, due to his inability to protect them.

And in his darkest moment, he had even begun to lose hope. Yet the Light had shown him something, something that reignited it – a rebirth of people who had begun to fall into darkness but were saved and brought back into the Light.

Seeing such had firmed his resolve, and now he waited for their coming, for the Light had revealed that the leader of these people would seek them out. All that was left to do was wait.

A knock on the door pulled his attention. "Yes?" He asked simply.

"A Prince Kael'Thas is here to see you, Prophet," one of the guards informed him, to which Velen smiled for a moment.

"Let him in."

~~~~
​

As Kael'Thas set foot upon the broken world of Draenor, or as it was called now, Outland, disgust and sadness overwhelmed him. Disgust for the ruinous powers that had seeped into what remained of this world, and sadness for a world and people destroyed by those same powers. With his eyes finally unclouded, he could see them for what they truly were.

Disappointment in himself rose within him. To think that he once sought salvation from these powers. No, such powers could only destroy, never create or heal. All they knew was to corrupt, twist, and destroy. The thought that he almost led his people down this dark road made his heart clench painfully.

Thankfully, the Light had seen fit to grant them a second chance, and he would not waste it. Kael'Thas firmed his resolve; he had a mission to accomplish. He needed to gather as many of his people still on this world and save them from darkness. Additionally, he had to locate the Draenei people and ask them to join in cooperation.
​

~~~~
​

At first, Kael'Thas was worried that it would take a long time before he would be able to locate the Draenei. However, the Light saw fit to grant him a sense of direction.

As he approached the location he was certain they were located, he noticed the guards, which confirmed that he was in the right place. After a moment of gathering himself, he began to approach them.

The moment they noticed him, they went on guard, yet as he fully entered their sight, strangely, they relaxed. Uncertain about their actions, he continued to approach, and as he came close enough, he noticed that among them stood one who seemed in command.

A woman, if he was not mistaken, scrutinized him heavily. Putting on his best smile, he spoke up. "Hello, I am Prince Kael'Thas of the Sindorei. I would like to speak to Prophet Velen if possible."

The woman scrutinized him for a moment longer before nodding. "The Prophet is expecting you. Come with me." Saying so, she turned and began to walk.

Kael'Thas felt a measure of confusion. How would Prophet Velen know to expect him? Was his approach noticed? Granted, he was not exactly hiding, yet that wouldn't explain them recognizing his name.

A feeling of peace and calmness from the Light put him at ease and explained how Prophet Velen knew to expect him.
​

~~~~
​

As Velen walked across the Isle of Quel'Thalas accompanied by Kael'Thas, he felt at peace for the first time in a long time. The meeting between Kael'Thas and him had gone very well.

It gladdened him to meet someone who, while beginning to walk the path of damnation, was strong and wise enough to divert from it when given the chance.

The similarities between their people's recent experiences served as a way of bonding. As tragic as that sounded, they drew strength from it. To see others suffer just as much and still be willing to continue emboldened those who may have begun to fall into despair.

"This land is beautiful," Velen commented. While the aesthetic was very dissimilar to the Draenei, it was in no way worse. Not to mention the newly dubbed Lightwell, whose power could be felt across the entire land, gave it a very peaceful atmosphere.

At first, when their people met, there was confusion and even guardedness between them, but it was understandable. As much as it pained him to admit it, their looks were very similar to many of the now demonic members of the Burning Legion.

Still, with assurances from both him and Prince Kael'Thas, the people attempted to move past it.​

~~~~
​

Liadrin, now Matriarch of the Sentinels of Light, reflected on how fast her life had changed. Once just a priestess, even if of high standing, then losing her faith, and now having it restored once more. More than that, being chosen as someone to lead a completely new order.

Even once the adrenaline from the heat of the moment had died down, and she thought about what she had agreed to, she did not regret it even a little.

Striking with her sword and releasing a wave of Light that obliterated a group of undead, she smiled to herself. No, she did not regret it.

Looking up, she watched the new members of her order. At first, the news of her ascendancy and the creation of the Sentinels of Light was met with confusion and, dare she say, some mistrust from the general populace.

Yet even the most suspicious could not deny the effect the Lightwell had on their people. Not only did it quench their thirst for magic, but more and more were learning the proper ways to control it.

It was a slow and arduous process, no doubt, one that Liadrin was also walking. Yet the moments when she felt no desire to consume magic filled her with peace.

So, while there had been a sweeping change in all their lives due to the Light, even the most suspicious, had to acknowledge the simple fact that it had been for the better.

A frown grew on her face when thinking of Rommath. In truth, what many did not know was that Rommath had fallen more and more under the influence of Fel. So the change that Light had brought was not something he desired at all.

In fact, unbeknownst to anyone besides herself and Prince Kael'Thas, they had forcefully exposed Rommath to the Lightwell to cleanse the Fel corruption from him.

The sight of the frankly disgusting magic of Fel leaking from him and how he struggled so hard to keep it shocked her to the core. But it was nothing compared to the expression on their Prince's face. Shock, disgust, fear, and, most of all, regret and self-loathing.

She attempted to alleviate his regret over what he had brought, yet she was uncertain if she succeeded. One thing she knew for certain was that by the end, she could see determination on the face of their Prince.

Not long after, he spoke to Lor'themar and herself of going back to Outland, gathering the rest of their people, and finding the Draenei.

She didn't know what to think of these Draenei people. From what the Stranger had told them, they were an old race that had been struck by the hand of evil, yet still kept to the Light.

She could see the wisdom of gaining an ally such as them, who could teach them of the Light, especially during this time of change for their people.

Once the Prince returned with these people, she, as well as others, were quite surprised at their looks. Especially those who had been on Outland. From what she heard from them, the Burning Legion had a race among them that looked disturbingly similar to the Draenei.

Of course, later it was explained how it was the Eredar, the original name for the Draenei race. How Sargeras, the leader of the Legion, had corrupted many of the Eredar, and how those that chose to flee with Prophet Velen renamed themselves the Draenei – meaning Exiled Ones in their own tongue.

Of course, that was but the first of the tragedies to befall them. Learning of what the Orcish Horde had done to their people horrified Liadrin. The parallels between that and their tragedy at the hands of the Scourge were disturbing.

Yet even after all those tragedies, they still held to the Light. Liadrin felt ashamed to have abandoned it at the first sign of trouble. She vowed to never do so again.

What came as truly surprising was how supportive and happy the Draenei seemed when they learned of the newly made Sentinels of Light. Prophet Velen seemed truly impressed and glad to hear of what it was and what it stood for.

Looking to her right, she observed the Draenei woman that Velen had asked to assist them in training. Her name was Velanara Dawnblade, one of the Prophet's personal guard, with thousands of years of experience in martial arts and combining it with the Light.

Liadrin was more than happy accepting help from such a person. Gazing across the new recruits, the results spoke for themselves. They improved by leaps and bounds. Granted, they were fighting rank and file undead, but what better way to truly hone one's skills than in combat.

"You are doing well, Liadrin," Velanara spoke up, a note of pride in her voice.

Liadrin turned to regard her with a smile. "These enemies are not much of a challenge these days."

Velanara nodded at that but continued in a wise tone. "True, but one must learn to walk before they run." She gazed at the recruits searchingly before nodding to herself.​

---

Honestly not much to say, just hope you enjoyed this.

Let me know your thoughts below.

Cheers!

As usual there are next three chapters on my Patreon​

 

[aquod]

thanks for the chapter !

 

[Kordelius]

Both Uther and Sylvanas gazed at the finished ships and the supplies being loaded onto them for their journey. Uther cast a sidelong glance at Sylvanas before repressing a sigh. Despite all his attempts, the woman remained aloof and unwilling to engage in any sort of discussion.

At least none that did not pertain to the task at hand. Make no mistake, she was a capable leader and made sure all ship-building, supply gathering, and the destruction of any remaining undead went smoothly. Yet all attempts at making simple small talk with her or even her rangers were met with failure, and not just from him.

He had seen others attempt to engage them in conversation and be simply ignored, unless they were relaying orders or something of that sort. Still, none attempted to raise a fuss over it. No one doubted that they had their own reasons for their attitude.

"It seems all we are missing is our illustrious leader," Uther commented lightly, seeing that the last few crates were being moved onto the ship.

"I am here," a voice spoke from beside Uther, making him jump in surprise and jerk towards it. In doing so, he missed the small smirk that briefly appeared on Sylvanas' lips, gone as quickly as it had come.

"By the Light! Do not startle me like that!" Uther admonished the man.

"Is everything prepared?" the man chose to pose a question instead of addressing Uther's admonishment.

"Yes, the ships are finished, and the supplies have been loaded. We can board and depart immediately," Sylvanas reported.

Behind them both, Uther gazed at the sky as if asking for salvation, yet none was forthcoming. He sighed and returned his gaze to Sylvanas and the Light's Chosen.

"Might I inquire what you were doing?" He asked with some curiosity, and if he was not mistaken, the little twitches from Sylvanas betrayed her own interest.

The Light's Chosen turned to gaze at the harbor and the ships for a time, almost making Uther think he would not respond. "Securing the future," the Light's Chosen spoke at last, his tone tinged with a strange melancholy.

Yet all of that was gone the next moment as he turned to them both, his commanding presence returning at once. "Uther, tell the men to begin boarding the ships; we will be departing today," the Light's Chosen commanded the old paladin, then turned towards Sylvanas. "Take me to them," he said to her. Sylvanas narrowed her eyes for a moment before nodding and began to walk, with the Light's Chosen following after her.

Uther gazed after them both for a moment before shaking his head. "As imposing as ever, indeed, Tirion," he muttered to himself before walking towards the men to relay their boarding orders.

~~~~
​

Sylvanas had wondered why he wanted to capture the Dreadlords – Balnazzar and Varimathras. It seems she would learn the answer to that question today.

As they approached a nondescript and quite dilapidated house, she stopped for a moment before giving a nod. After a moment, two of her rangers walked out of the house with their bows drawn.

Raising her hand, she let light pulse in it. After it had finished its last pulse, the rangers lowered their bows and nodded their heads, standing aside and letting them enter.

The Light's Chosen made no comment on any of it, no doubt understanding the necessity for such measures. As they walked past the two rangers, he gave them a nod before entering the house.

It looked the same inside as it did outside – dilapidated, which served them perfectly well. Walking towards the fireplace, she pressed on a brick, opening an entrance in the floor.

Entering the secret basement, they were met with two glowing cages, made from Light and containing their prisoners. Rangers were spread out across the room, all with bows drawn. Repeating the same pattern, they lowered their weapons and stood at attention, waiting for orders.

"Leave us," Light's Chosen ordered. After a second, her rangers obeyed and left the basement, closing the entrance after themselves. Leaving both Light's Chosen and her to gaze at the two Dreadlords. They were alive, but there were signs that the constant exposure to Light had not been pleasant for them.

"You will pay for this!" Balnazzar snarled at them both, yet it was obvious that even saying that took its toll on him, for he was panting after having said that. Which did not lessen his glare of hatred.

Varimathras, on the other hand, seemed almost docile in comparison, simply gazing at them both inquisitively.

Light's Chosen approached the cage containing Balnazzar. Just as he was about to run into it face first, it simply disappeared. Balnazzar, despite being exhausted, used the last of his strength borne of anger to lash out at him.

Which cost him the arm he swung, as it simply disintegrated all the way up to the shoulder, bringing a shout of agony from him and making him fall to his knees. Yet before he could hit the floor, chains of Light emerged from the ground and pierced and bound his body.

Light's Chosen stood before his bound form for but a moment before raising his hand and laying it on his skull. He then gripped it tightly. In fact, his grip was so tight his fingers sunk into Balnazzar's skull, drawing yet another shout of pain. This one was cut off, leaving him with wide, empty eyes and a hanging jaw. A moment later, Light began to shine from his eyes and the places where Light's Chosen's fingers had sunk into his skull.

Sylvanas was observing all of this with a measure of confusion, not understanding what he was doing or why. Varimathras, on the other hand, could only look on horrified as to what was happening to one of his brethren.

After some time, Light's Chosen closed his fist, crushing the part of Balnazzar's skull in his hand, before Balnazzar began to disintegrate. Light's Chosen remained silent, gazing at his clenched fist.

Lowering it, he turned towards Sylvanas, who was still looking on in confusion. After a moment, Light's Chosen gestured towards Varimathras, who was looking at them both in fear. "If you choose to follow me, after, you may use him to learn what we face," he said, leaving Sylvanas uncertain as to how to proceed.

She gazed at Varimathras, who was looking at her with fear. "Now now, there is no need for such drastic measures. I am sure that whatever you wish to learn, I can impart without such violence. After all, I did promise to serve you, so truly none of this is necessary," he attempted to convince her.

Sadly for him, it seems his words had the opposite effect for Sylvanas. Her uncertainty was replaced with certainty and a sense of purpose as she approached the cage. She took no such risk as the Light's Chosen did; she chained Varimathras long before the cage disappeared.

"Please! Sylvanas, do not do this! Have I not served fait-" Varimathras attempted to plead through the pain, before Sylvanas' fingers sinking into his skull interrupted him.

Light guided Sylvanas in finding what she needed to know, yet even so, she saw glimpses of the Dreadlord's life and all he had done. Seeing the atrocities committed by him, she grit her teeth at herself for ever being so naive as to trust this creature.

And then she finally saw what the Light's Chosen wanted her to see, leaving her speechless and distraught.

As Varimathras slowly disintegrated in front of her, her eyes were wide in disbelief and confusion. A part of her even regretted learning what she did.
​

~~~~
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Aboard the Xenedar, the Army of the Light was going about their usual business. In fact, Turalyon, Alleria, and Lothraxion were standing before Xe'ra, their leader.

Their discussion was the same as usual, movements of the Legion, their own response, and everything in between. Yet something drew all their attention – Light began to pool some distance from them.

"What is going on?" Turalyon asked in some confusion, gazing between the pool of Light and Xe'ra.

Xe'ra remained silent and hard to gauge, as usually Naaru are, for they have no expression to read, being entirely made of floating crystals of Light.

"There is no need to be worried." Finally, Xe'ra's melodic voice rang out, putting them at ease.

Just as she finished speaking, the pool of Light began to change shape, turning into an armored figure, if translucent, who turned his head, observing all who were before him.

"Hello, who might you be?" Turalyon asked inquisitively, yet the figure ignored him, instead turning to regard Lothraxion instead. To which Lothraxion raised an eyebrow before addressing the apparition. "Can I help you?" He asked in confusion.

"Yes, Thal'kituun. You can help us all by doing one simple thing - die." The Stranger said, taking them all aback, but not as much as Lothraxion himself.

"How do you know that name!" Lothraxion shouted with wide eyes at the same time as Turalyon shouted. "What?!"

Yet the Stranger did not deign to answer them instead simply raising his arm with his palm pointing at Lothraxion, who had begun to turn to escape, yet was bound and unable to move.

"Foolish spy, you failed." Was all the Stranger said as Lothraxion cried out in pain and anger as he was disintegrated.

"What have you done?!" Turalyon cried out still not understanding the situation. At his side, Alleria had drawn her bow, yet realized that it would do her no good against someone who is not truly here.

"Calm yourself, Turalyon. There is no need for panic." Xe'ra's voice rang out, both commanding and comforting. Both Alleria and Turalyon turned towards her with wide and confused eyes.

Yet before they could question her, the Stranger spoke up once more. "Alleria Windrunner." He said commandingly, making her turn towards him with narrowed eyes.

"Cease this foolish path you walk. The Void offers nothing, but lies, corruption, and false promises. Cease this foolishness at once, or face the consequences." The Stranger commanded her and warned her to not disobey.

Having said his piece, he turned his attention towards Xe'ra, yet speaking no words. Or perhaps no words that could be heard by others. Having finished their silent conversation, the Stranger disappeared as he came.

Leaving confusion and uncertainty in his wake, for at least both Turalyon and Alleria.​

---

Well... that happened. What do you think Sylvanas saw? Also how will Alleria act now, having been warned to not dabble in things she knows nothing of?

Let me know your thoughts below.

Cheers!

As usual there are next three chapters on my Patreon​

 

[Kordelius]

Sally Whitemane stood at the bow of one of the many ships transporting them towards Northrend, towards their hated foe – The Lich King. Merely thinking of the abomination made her clench the staff she was holding tighter and narrow her eyes in anger.

The staff, feeling her rising anger and magic, began to glow brighter. Yet, as she turned her attention to it, she suppressed the buildup. Light's Wrath, the Scarlet Crusade's attempt at recreating the fabled Ashbringer, was a failure in the eyes of many. It offered great power to those who wielded it, yet it was also their downfall. They could not control the staff's power and were destroyed along with those they sought to wield it against.

All due to treachery! How betrayed, angry, and most of all, foolish she felt once she learned the truth about their leader. A flesh puppet for a demon, seeking only to exploit them, twisting them to his nefarious schemes.

For ever more, she would be thankful for the day her eyes were opened. Never in her life had she imagined that walking outside the monastery on that night would shatter her world.

A huff escaped her as she remembered her actions upon being set upon by Sylvanas. How she had called on the Light and attempted to smite her, how she taunted her, calling her foolish for stepping out from the protection of her undead slaves.

Yet the Light did not answer her, for the first time in her life. It shook her to her core; never had the Light ignored her call. Disbelief and fear gripped her, but the worst was yet to come.

While she believed that Sylvanas would use this chance, use her powerlessness to strike her down, what she did was perhaps even worse – she removed the hood obscuring her face, revealing her eyes. Eyes that shone with Light.

She was speechless and confused; none of what she experienced made sense to her. The Light not answering her, and now her hated foe wielding the Light.

All that alone would've been enough to break someone. Falling to her knees, she could only gaze up at her in disbelief. That was when Sylvanas fired an arrow into her chest.

She thought it would be her end; perhaps it would've been better if it was. It did not kill her; no… it showed her what hid behind her blindness.

And she wept, broken and lost.

Steps approached her, making her look up at the one who had done this to her. At first, Sylvanas gazed at her with coldness, before it softened, and she extended her hand towards her.

"Join us," was all Sylvanas said. After a moment, Sally grabbed her arm, allowing resolve to fill her. She would redeem herself in the Light.

And now they were here, those crusaders deemed redeemable having become the Penitential Atoners. Yet Sally was not a part of them, her flesh bearing no marks from the Light, not even where Sylvanas's arrow had pierced her; it left no mark.

Often she wondered – Why? What separates her from them? Yet no answers were forthcoming; most were unable to tell her. Those who possessed an inkling as to why remained silent. It was maddening, yet the Light had assuaged her that it would come in time, and that a choice would have to be made by her.

"Sally." A voice from beside her drew her out of her thoughts. Looking to the side, she beheld the woman she had despised for so long, one who had been changed, offered a new path, and had extended the same path to her. Was that why she differed from others?

"Sally." The voice replied sternly, noticing her thoughts wandering once more. Sally felt her cheeks grow warm from embarrassment. "Sorry. Yes, was there something I can help you with, Sylvanas?" She finally replied to the person calling out to her.

Sylvanas looked at her with narrowed eyes, some annoyance there, but mostly contemplation. It seemed Sylvanas was the one lost in thought now, but just before Sally could draw her out of them, Sylvanas spoke up.

"Come with me. There is something I wish to discuss with you, alone," Sylvanas commanded. Confusion filled Sally, yet she followed after her, curious about what Sylvanas wanted to say.
​

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​

The sea. Uther never had any particular love for it, or dislike. At most, he was indifferent towards it, like most people would be—just a simple body of water, teeming with life of its own. It required a different type of transport to cross, and in some ways, it was more dangerous than traveling by land, yet also safer in others.

The sun was high in the sky, and the waves were calm, gently rocking the ship he stood upon. Gazing to the sides, he could see the other ships also moving towards their destination undisturbed.

Their destination. Northrend, a cursed land some would say. A place where his once-star pupil lost his way entirely. Fitting, he supposed, that it would also serve as the place where he and his reign of terror would be put to rest.

Some would call it a blunder or arrogance to be so assured of their victory, to which Uther could only scoff. No, their victory was assured. Uther's eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched. The only question was what it would cost.

How much blood would be spilt? How many men and women would fall, never to rise again? And how long would they have to fight to achieve their goal?

He gazed down at the men and women walking around the ship, doing what they must to ensure a smooth sailing. And wondered, how many of them would still be there to see the end?

His eyes settled on one particular ship, the vessel containing the Light's Chosen. He had said he had secured the future. Uther wondered—what did he mean by that? Should it not be them securing the future by destroying Arthas and his wretched undead?

He felt as if he was missing something, something very important, yet no matter how he grasped for it, it always slipped through his fingers like water. Perhaps he was thinking too much about it. Light's Chosen had not steered them wrong, and Uther would place his trust and loyalty in him.

Absentmindedly looking around, he had to jerk back when he noticed a ranger standing beside him. "Light! Will you stop that?!" He berated the ranger whilst holding his chest.

Fiends! They kept doing this to everyone, and no matter how hard he tried, he could never feel them coming, even when he knew they were! It was maddening!

The ranger simply turned her head to gaze at him, her eyes cold as the Light. "The future belongs to the living, Uther," was all she said before leaving just as silently as she had come.

What? Uther could only gaze after her with furrowed brows and confusion in his eyes. Did she just want to mess with him? Or was there something more to it all that he was missing once more?

He raised a hand to rub at his brow; all this was giving him a headache.
​

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​

Chronormu, or Chromie as she was mostly known to mortals, was fuming. No, that was too mild of a word. She was apoplectic with rage! Wait, no, that's too much. Eh… somewhere in the middle.

She, along with others of her flight, bore witness to one of the largest disturbances to the timeline, possibly ever! Yet they could not determine how or why, or even how to stop it!

It was as if they were mere bystanders to a calamity, unable to do anything but watch. Yet by sheer determination and probably not a little bit of luck, she managed to locate the disturbance and get a closer observation.

Which is how she found herself bound by chains of Light, sitting in a chair facing a man that should not exist.

No words had been exchanged, and besides capturing the moment she came here. Hidden, mind you, he had not said or done anything, content to remain still as a statue.

Finally, she could not stand the silence anymore, and not because she was frustrated that no matter what she did – the chains would not break!

"Well, who are you? And do you have any idea what you have done? How much you have messed up the timeline!" She attempted to berate him, yet due to her chosen form of a female gnome, it came off more comedic than intimidating.

Not even a twitch from the man; she might as well have been talking to a wall! Such disrespect! "Do you know who I am?!" She kicked her feet, her frustrations having built up to a boiling point.

"Chronormu," the man spoke, telling her that yes, he did know who she was. "Compose yourself." He continued, berating her as one would a child. Any smugness she may have had at being recognized disappeared.

She sputtered for a moment, before glaring. "How dare you speak to me as if I were a child! I am older than you will ever be!" She had given up on all decorum, shouting and cursing.

While the man simply rose from his chair and slowly walked towards her. As he stood before her, he reached out and lifted her, bringing her to his eye level. "Hush," he deadpanned at her.

And like any child who was upset, she did the complete opposite, yet no sound escaped her mouth. Of course, this only stopped her for a moment, before even silenced, she continued to shout and flail.

To which the man simply placed her back on the chair and retreated to his own.​

---

What do we have here? A little sand lizard poking her nose where she should not... tut tut tut, that won't do.

Let me know your thoughts below.

Cheers!

As usual there are next three chapters on my Patreon​

 

[Kordelius]

As the ships cut through the waves, the tension aboard was palpable. The sailors' faces were etched with grim determination, knowing they were sailing into the heart of danger. The sky, once serene, now tinged with the hues of the impending battle, cast an eerie glow over the scene.

The Light's Chosen, his silhouette imposing against the fading sunlight, guided his horse toward the shore. The air crackled with energy as he approached, a misty aura enveloping him, a prelude to the storm about to be unleashed.

The moment the horse's hooves touched the sandy shore, the ground trembled. Like clockwork, sinkholes erupted, spewing forth a tide of undead horrors. The Light's Chosen, undeterred, raised his hand, summoning a brilliant shield of Light. The undead crashed into it, their gnarled hands clawing desperately, their skeletal faces contorted in rage.

The shield held, but the Light's Chosen knew defense alone wouldn't win this battle. With a swift gesture, the shield transformed, spikes of blinding light jutting out. The undead, impaled on these radiant spears, shrieked in agony before disintegrating into ashes.

Above, motes of Light ascended from the Light's Chosen, forming a dazzling constellation. In an awe-inspiring display, they metamorphosed into ethereal spears, raining down upon the remaining undead. Each spear found its mark, obliterating the foes with searing brilliance.

But the onslaught persisted. From the depths of the sinkholes, more undead surged forth. The Light's Chosen clenched his fist, gathering the Light's energy. As he released it, a beam of blinding radiance piercing through the horde and vanishing into one of the sinkholes.

A moment of tense anticipation followed. Then, an explosion of divine power erupted from the sinkhole, a pillar of Light consuming everything in its path. The ground quaked as the sinkhole collapsed, sealing the threat beneath tons of earth and Light-infused debris.

Uther, seeing the Light's Chosen's might, charged alongside his fellow soldiers. Each swing of his hammer was like a thunderclap, crushing the undead beneath its weight. Sylvanas, her bow singing death, orchestrated her rangers in a deadly dance, their arrows finding their targets unerringly.

Amidst the chaos, the Light's Chosen, a beacon of hope amidst the darkness, led the charge. His eyes blazed with divine fury, his every movement a testament to his unwavering resolve. The battlefield was a tableau of destruction and heroism, as the living fought against the relentless tide of the Scourge.

The battle raged on, a symphony of clashing weapons, cries of valor, and the brilliant bursts of Light. The very air crackled with energy, bearing witness to the fierce determination of those fighting to reclaim Northrend from the grip of the Lich King.

In that moment, beneath the fading twilight and against overwhelming odds, the soldiers of the Light found their strength. They fought not just for victory, but for the future of Azeroth, their unity a testament to their unyielding spirit and the might of the Light.

Sylvanas walked up to the Light's Chosen while firing arrows at the flyers. She stood near him for a moment, letting the other rangers join her. Lowering her bow, she allowed her rangers to take up the slack.

She turned towards him. "Shall we depart, or do you wish for us to remain here until the construction has started?" She inquired, to which the Light's Chosen remained silent for a time.

On one hand, having Sylvanas and her rangers would allow them to protect their landing site easier, yet allowing her to proceed once she succeeds would lower or perhaps even stop the attacks.

"Depart," the Light's Chosen commanded, and began to move forward. Sylvanas signaled her rangers, and they all rushed ahead, flowing like water through both friend and foe.

~~~~
​

As Sylvanas and her rangers advanced across the foreign and unknown land, their sharp elven eyes darted around, vigilant for any sign of danger or opportunity. Each passing vista was surveyed briefly, a scan for anything that might bear significance.

The pursuit of the mindless undead had been relentless, yet Sylvanas' focus was elsewhere. She had a greater mission, and trivial obstacles in the form of the shambling undead were not worth her attention.

As the sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting long shadows over the land, Sylvanas contemplated the peculiarities of their existence. Their new, empowered state bestowed them with endless vigor. Fatigue was a foreign concept, and their resilience knew no bounds. They marched on tirelessly, ready to endure a relentless journey.

In their explorations, they had witnessed other denizens of this land - walrus-like beings, walking upright, engaging in clashes with giant men. The sight intrigued Sylvanas, igniting her curiosity. Still, she made the practical choice to press onward, with an unspoken promise to explore such curiosities on their way back.

Among the surprises this foreign land held, the presence of Tauren puzzled Sylvanas. These massive creatures were primarily associated with Kalimdor, and their appearance here was unexpected. However, their actions painted a clear stance - opposition to the Scourge. Watching them eliminate undead emerging from a nearby ziggurat confirmed their potential as valuable allies.

For now, the rangers moved with stealth, inching closer to their destination. The Azjol-Nerub entrance, gateway to the ancient kingdom of the Nerubians, awaited. Within the depths lay their primary target - Anub'arak, once a proud king of his kind, now enslaved as a puppet of the Lich King.

This was a critical mission. The eradication of Anub'arak would strip the Lich King of a potent lieutenant. Furthermore, by collapsing the heart of the Nerubian kingdom, they could seal off significant underground passages, hindering the Scourge's movements.

Approaching the entrance, they paused, keeping their distance and maintaining a careful watch. It was imperative to assess the defenses guarding the Nerubian kingdom, as they could not afford to underestimate their enemy in this treacherous land.
​

~~~~
​

Removing an arrow from one of the many corpses strewn across the desolate area, Sylvanas surveyed the scene and her rangers. Countless hours had been spent observing their undead foes, yet as anticipated, the tireless nature of undeath matched their own. Time pressed upon them, urging them toward action, despite the distasteful necessity of open combat.

Their only viable option was to strike swiftly and silently, giving no chance for escape or alarm. The rangers moved with practiced grace, their steps soundless, their movements purposeful. The ambush unfolded with lethal precision, leaving no room for the enemy to retaliate. Still, the awareness lingered that this skirmish, however concealed, would likely draw attention sooner rather than later.

One advantage they possessed lay in the fact that undeath had stripped the Nerubians of the awareness that living creatures might possess. Sylvanas recalled encountering other arachnids with a similar lack of perception. Whether this deficiency was a consequence of undeath or a trait from their living days remained a mystery. Regardless, it worked in Sylvanas's favor, enabling them to bypass many of the Nerubians and silently dispose of those they couldn't avoid.

The vastness of the caverns was staggering, a blessing in disguise. The sheer expanse allowed them to conceal the bodies of their victims, a grim necessity. The size of the caverns also offered potential advantages, their potential fragility could facilitate their destruction. However, Sylvanas couldn't ignore the possibility that these structures were sturdier than they seemed, resilient against attempts at demolition. Such uncertainty added complexity to their plans, leaving an ominous note of caution in the air.

"This kingdom belongs to the Scourge, only the dead may enter!" A warbled voice echoed through the vast cavern, catching the attention of all the rangers. Before they could react, a spell impacted the ground near them, throwing them aside like ragdolls.

As the rangers landed and the dust settled, they beheld a different kind of Nerubian entering the scene, a grim indication that their presence hadn't gone unnoticed despite their best efforts. This Nerubian was larger than any they had encountered before, standing tall on four legs.

Spoiler: Nerubian

"You were foolish to come here," it hissed, launching shadow bolts at them. The rangers swiftly evaded the onslaught and retaliated with a flurry of arrows. Yet an arcane shield, shimmering with power, deflected their arrows harmlessly.

Sylvanas narrowed her eyes, assessing their foe's weakness. In a swift move, she approached one of her rangers. "The shield weakens after it casts spells. That's our window. Use the Light; regular arrows won't penetrate it enough," she instructed, her voice low and urgent. The ranger nodded and hurried to relay the information to the others.

"Foolish creature, you will fall, just as all the slaves of the Lich King will," Sylvanas taunted, drawing the Nerubian's attention.

"You dare speak of the Master?!" it screeched in anger, its eyes widening as it recognized her. "Sylvanas! Oh, how pleased the Master will be when I bring you to him."

An arrow exploded against the shield in front of the Nerubian's face, silencing its twisted laughter. Rage contorted Sylvanas's features. "Don't worry, I'll make sure to send your master to the same abyss you're headed!" she retorted.

In response, the creature released a deafening screech and unleashed another volley of shadow bolts. "NOW!" Sylvanas bellowed, and arrows infused with the brilliance of Light pierced the Nerubian, eliciting a final, grotesque cry before it was utterly obliterated.
​

~~~~
​

Sylvanas exhaled a heavy breath, her relief tinged with the bitter realization that their enemies were as formidable as the Light's Chosen had warned. The ease with which they had dispatched previous Nerubians had misled them; such carelessness could not be repeated. Losing even one of their party members could jeopardize the entire mission. She glanced around, reassured to find none of her rangers had perished, but they were not unscathed.

As they tended to their wounds, Sylvanas recognized their vulnerability. Despite wielding the power of the Light, they hadn't fully explored its healing abilities. It was an oversight that needed rectifying, but for now, brute force would have to suffice.

Resuming their journey, the awareness that their presence was known forced them to abandon stealth. They pressed forward urgently, knowing they had to collapse the tunnels immediately to avoid being overrun.

Descending deeper into the Nerubian domain, their path became entangled in an immense spiderweb. Sinister hisses and snarls reverberated from the web, announcing the arrival of their next foe—a colossal spider, even larger than the caster they had vanquished earlier.

Spoiler: Spider

The moment it spotted them, it spat corrosive acid, forcing them to scatter. The acid was potent, eating through the web's strands that have resisted being cut. Arrows rained upon the spider, unhindered this time, sinking deep into its cursed flesh. The creature shrieked in pain as it rushed toward them, spewing more acidic venom.

It was an undead monstrosity, driven by mindless fury yet undeniably powerful. Sylvanas watched in grim silence as one of her rangers was ensnared in a web, then crushed by the creature.

Sylvanas, her eyes cold with determination, drew her bowstring, the Light gathering into an arrow. With deadly accuracy, she released the glowing arrow, severing three of the spider's legs. The creature collapsed with a shriek of agony, and her rangers swiftly moved behind it, unleashing a barrage of arrows until the monster breathed its last.

The cold satisfaction of victory couldn't dispel the heaviness in Sylvanas's heart as she approached her fallen ranger. Kneeling beside her, she whispered softly, "We will meet again."

In a final act of respect, Sylvanas rose and pointed her hand at her fallen comrade, releasing a pulse of Light that disintegrated the ranger's body. She refused to let her be desecrated by the Scourge, determined to spare her from further suffering. They had endured such fates once before; Sylvanas wouldn't allow it to happen again.
​

~~~~
​

As they descended deeper into the dark abyss, a realization dawned on them: their path was unobstructed. Observant Nerubians watched their progress but made no attempt to attack or hinder them. It was clear they were expected, likely at the order of Anub'arak, who wanted to confront them personally.

Walking through a foreboding doorway, it ominously closed behind them. Sylvanas could sense the unease among her rangers, but she didn't waver, her gaze unwaveringly fixed on what awaited them.

At the end of a long stairway stood an enormous, grotesque creature — Anub'arak, the fallen king of the Nerubians.

Spoiler: Anub'arak

As they began to approach him, he spoke in a chittering voice that filled the chamber. "I was king of this empire once, long ago. In life, I stood as a champion. In death, I returned as a conqueror. Now, I protect the kingdom once more. Ironic, yes?"

Sylvanas retorted, regret lacing her voice, "Sad is more like it. Our fates seem similar, for I was once the protector of my home. I was also turned into a monstrosity, yet I broke free. And now, I have come to exact my vengeance." Her words were filled with cold determination as she confronted the fallen Nerubian king.

Anub'arak roared with rage, "Then it was foolish of you to come here. You should've enjoyed the freedom you had managed to achieve, for soon the Master's voice will call to you once more!" He roared, and spikes of earth erupted from the platform as they stepped upon it.

Sylvanas didn't dare look behind, but the cry of pain confirmed the death of another one of her rangers. Her eyes flared with a brilliant Light, and she shouted defiantly, "You will regret that, creature!" She let her radiant arrows fly, unrelenting in her resolve to destroy this abominable king.

The chitinous exoskeleton of Anub'arak proved formidable, deflecting their attacks effortlessly. "My locusts will feed upon your flesh!" he bellowed, and swarms of bugs flew out from underneath his armor, descending upon Sylvanas and her rangers.

The distraction provided by the insects, combined with the sheer pain, allowed Anub'arak to send another of her rangers hurtling over the platform. The ranger's scream of fear and pain echoed before she disappeared, plummeting to the ground far below.

Reacting swiftly, Sylvanas released a burst of blinding Light, annihilating the bugs attacking her. Her rangers quickly followed suit, dispelling the insects around them. Meanwhile, Sylvanas leaped onto Anub'arak's back, struggling to maintain her balance as he thrashed about.

Raising her hands, she concentrated the Light between her palms, molding it into a sharp spear. With all her strength, she thrust it into Anub'arak, eliciting a horrific scream from him. Arrows of Light, shot by her rangers, punctured his armored form, adding to his pain.

Knowing she couldn't stay on his back any longer, Sylvanas jumped off before Anub'arak could shake her off. He began burrowing into the ground, shouting, "Come forth, my brethren! Kill them in the name of the Lich King!"

Chittering sounds filled the chamber as more Nerubians swarmed toward them, pouring down the stairway and climbing the platform. "Keep them away from us!" Sylvanas commanded, her voice firm as she knelt where Anub'arak had vanished. She retrieved an orb from her pouch and crushed it in her hand, releasing the contained Light.

Even as a Lightforged Undead, she felt the searing pain of holding such intense radiance. With a scream of agony, she thrust her hand into the ground, channeling the Light downwards. The entire platform trembled, and a scream of torment resonated from beneath it. Sylvanas's attack had reached Anub'arak.

"Get off!" Sylvanas shouted, firing an arrow with a rope attached to it at the wall. She jumped off the crumbling platform, her rangers following her lead. The impact against the wall knocked the air from her lungs, but they were far from safe. Nerubians were crawling down the wall toward them, and in this vulnerable position, they had to act quickly.

Out of options Sylvanas mimicked the Light's Chosen's technique. Motes of Light began to leave her, transforming into spears that shot out, piercing the Nerubians as they approached, holding them at bay for now.

With noticeable effort, Sylvanas summoned the last of her strength to unleash a barrage of spears of Light against the oncoming Nerubians. The exertion left her light-headed and weakened, her vision blurring. "I've got you, my lady," one of her rangers said, catching her before she could collapse and fall to her possible death.

Slowly, they all descended to the floor, the Nerubians retreating for the moment. Beneath the rubble of the platform, Anub'arak and the fallen ranger lay, the latter's lifeless form a painful reminder of their losses.

Sylvanas moved toward her fallen comrade, her intent clear – to destroy the corpse before it could be turned against them. As she approached, a shifting of the rubble and a weak wheeze drew their attention.

Anub'arak was still alive!

Lifting her bow with sluggish movements, Sylvanas prepared for another round of combat. However, no attack came. Painful groans emanated from Anub'arak. "Never... thought I... would be... free of... him," he rasped, his voice fading as he fell silent, finally succumbing to death.

Sylvanas sagged in relief, her bow dropping to her side. Anub'arak was dead at last. Exhausted, she sank to her knees beside her fallen ranger. With the last of her strength, she invoked the Light, covering the ranger's body and reducing it to ash.

The battle was won, but the cost was heavy. Sylvanas closed her eyes, offering a silent prayer for her fallen comrades, before steeling herself for what lay ahead. The fight against the Lich King was far from over, but this victory, hard-won as it was, had brought them one step closer to their ultimate goal.​

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[Kordelius]

Sylvanas and her rangers fled through the crumbling tunnels of the Nerubian kingdom as debris and dust rained down around them. The explosion, designed to trap the remaining Nerubians and ensure their tunnels could not be easily restored, threatened to swallow them as well.

Sylvanas briefly questioned whether she had triggered the explosion too soon, but the risk of being tampered with by Nerubian forces made the decision a necessary one. She only hoped they would reach safety in time.

A silver lining amid the chaos was that the Nerubians, too, were fleeing. Their death cries echoed as they were crushed beneath falling rocks and debris. Sylvanas pressed forward, urging her rangers to follow her.

But as she took her next step, the ground beneath her gave way, and she found herself plummeting into a seemingly bottomless abyss. Her rangers tried to reach out and save her, but she was already too far from their grasp.

"Run, you fools!" Sylvanas shouted, her voice echoing in the underground chamber as she disappeared into the darkness below.

Falling – was this how she would meet her end? No, she refused to accept it. Desperation and panic swelled within her. She needed to find a way out, and she focused all her strength on doing so. If only she could fly!

Then, a strange sensation overcame her, and she looked to her side to see that the earth around her was falling, but she remained suspended in the air. It was as though some unseen force held her aloft.

Summoning all her determination, Sylvanas rose slowly, unsteadily, levitating upwards. But the ceiling above the hole she had fallen through began to split and crumble, sending an enormous section of rock hurtling toward her. She was trapped.

"Aghhh!" Sylvanas screamed in a mix of anger, fear, and frustration. In her desperation, she tapped into a power she hadn't accessed since her time as a banshee, a power that had been lost when she was transformed by the Light. Now, she was no longer a mass of darkness but of pure Light.

Her newfound power helped her escape this death trap. Sylvanas surged forward, flying through the crumbling tunnel, and even caught up with her rangers. She touched each one, allowing them to transform as well, and they all emerged through the entrance they had used earlier.

Landing safely some distance away, they watched the ground continue to quake and tremble, with more and more of it sinking into the expanding hole. Sylvanas frowned. The immense size of the Nerubian kingdom was working against them, making it impossible to fill the colossal hole they had created.

Then, a surprise – the nearby mountain was shifting, beginning to sink. Sylvanas couldn't help but smirk. But as her eyes narrowed with a trace of suspicion, she pulled out the last of the orbs that had been given to her.

Studying the orb and the descending mountain for a moment, a plan began to take shape in her mind. She turned to her rangers. "Stay here; I will be back." With that, she transformed once more and flew toward the base of the mountain.

The rangers were left in silence, exchanging uncertain glances as they watched their lady take flight. They waited patiently for her return.

Some time later, Sylvanas touched down near her rangers. The mountain had ceased moving, and her suspicions were confirmed. But she wasn't concerned; her plan was already in motion.

Sylvanas wore a smirk as she raised her hand and snapped her fingers, invoking the magic of the last orb. A deafening explosion rocked the earth as the mountain began to crumble and topple. Satisfaction filled her as she watched the mountain fill the enormous hole left by the Nerubians' kingdom.

Perfect. While it wouldn't eliminate the Scourge's presence entirely, it would significantly delay their attempts to rebuild the tunnels. Time was on their side now. Sylvanas turned to her rangers, who stood in silent awe.

Their lady had once again proven her cunning and resourcefulness. She didn't need their praise; the satisfaction of a well-executed plan was enough. Wordlessly, she led her rangers back to their landing zone, their steps filled with determination and renewed purpose.

~~~~
​

Uther bashed another undead in the chest, grimacing as it fell apart, some of its remains splashing on him. Ever since they made landfall, it had been a constant battle. Both on land and at the ships, the undead had deployed fliers attempting to sink the ships, which now served as a resting place for those too tired before returning to the field of battle.

He himself had taken a rest, as had all others, except one. One who was responsible for them not being overrun completely. One who stood as an immovable object and an unstoppable force: The Light's Chosen.

After destroying the sinkholes from which the first wave of undead had poured at them, he had chosen a spot to stand and remained there, radiating power and stability. Bathed in his power, not a single one of their numbers had fallen. Even those that had fallen rose once more.

If the Scourge were not simply mindless wretches, the sight of a knight cleaved in half rising to his feet and striking down his attacker would shatter any morale the attacking force had. No doubt the necromancers overseeing this attack were fuming at being denied, also fearing failure, which would elicit punishment from their master.

Thinking of Arthas soured Uther's mood, and he felt a surge of annoyance at having to deal with this rabble. He called upon the Light; enough was enough. The fools should have understood by now that they would not be stopped, and that throwing these corpses at them would achieve nothing.

It was time Uther showed them this, borrowing inspiration from the Light's Chosen. Uther began to emanate Light, channeling it intensely. Motes of Light gathered above him, and he advanced. All the undead that stood before him were destroyed in a rain of Light spears.

The Light had shown him where his current enemy hid; he would take care of it. The further he stepped away from the Light's Chosen and his aura of power, the more clearly he felt the sheer corruption of this land. It only strengthened his resolve to purge it of its corruption. Men and women stood beside and behind him. They all advanced as one; it seemed the necromancers had surmised their purpose, and the undead focused on them.

But it was too late for that.

With every step he took, his resolve grew; with every undead that fell, his determination was strengthened. He was Uther the Lightbringer, and it was time he lived up to it.

Raising his mace, he poured Light into it. Before long, sparks emanated from it due to the contained power. As he crested the hill, his target was in sight: a ziggurat, the residence of the necromancers controlling the attacking undead.

With a firm grip on the mace, he assumed a strong, wide stance, planting his feet firmly on the ground. He swung the mace overhead, building momentum with each rotation. As he felt the weight of the weapon in his hands, he calculated his target with a focused gaze. With precise timing, he released the mace, launching it toward his target. The mace sailed through the air, leaving a trail of Light.

Once it struck the ziggurat, there was a moment of silence before it exploded in a burst of Light. A dome expanded from the place of origin, destroying all undead caught in it.

When the Light subsided, nothing remained of the ziggurat or the surrounding undead. It was a taste of what was to come; he, or rather they, would not stop until all taint of the Scourge was cleansed from this world.

Giving one last gaze across the land, Uther turned and began to walk back toward the main force. The men and women who had protected him, allowing him to destroy the ziggurat, dealt with any roaming undead that bothered them during the return trip.
​

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​

Uther's actions had bought them a reprieve, during which they hurried to construct a more permanent base. In fact, the Scourge had inadvertently assisted them in doing so, as the sinkholes had allowed access to materials for their construction.

Now, as walls and the keep were taking shape around him, Uther allowed some of the weight to fall from his shoulders, allowing a breath of relaxation to escape him. While they were still harassed by the undead, the attacks were mere paltry annoyances rather than genuine threats. In fact, now that he wasn't constantly battling to exhaustion, Uther allowed a thought that had been lingering in the back of his mind to resurface.

Where had Sylvanas and her rangers departed? He had overheard the Light's Chosen granting her permission to leave, yet the question remained: where had she gone?

Another matter to consider was the massive earthquake they had felt not long ago. Thankfully, none of the tunnels had collapsed on top of their workers, but the event had startled them significantly. For most, the worst they had to worry about were scrapes and bruises from loose rocks and dust covering them.

Uther's brows furrowed. Could Sylvanas be responsible for the earthquake? He had no doubt in his mind that she was deployed to destroy a target, one that had been deemed important enough to be dealt with upon their arrival, no less.

In any case, his questions would soon be answered, as a scout had reported seeing Sylvanas and her rangers returning. It seemed even the Light's Chosen was interested in their findings, for the first time since coming to this land, he had moved from his spot. Not even the keep being built literally around him could sway him.

A snort escaped Uther; Tirion was right – as imposing as ever, that one. Still, seeing Sylvanas walk inside and turn toward the Light's Chosen made him move in that direction as well.​

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[Son'x]

So she still has her Banshee abilities, just Light based now.

 

[Kordelius]

So she still has her Banshee abilities, just Light based now.

Click to shrink...

More or less, it's just so iconic for her that I decided to keep it, since it's quite possible with Light and I wanted to make it easier on myself as well.

 

[Kordelius]

Uther approached just as Sylvanas came to a halt before the formidable figure of the Light's Chosen. The air was thick with tension as the commander's eyes bore into Sylvanas, wordlessly commanding her to relay the details of their mission. Casting a brief, almost imperceptible glance at Uther, Sylvanas began her account.

"As you instructed, we scouted the Nerubian Kingdom precisely as you indicated," Sylvanas began, her voice carrying the weight of their perilous journey. "Regrettably, subtlety was not an option; we were compelled to launch a direct assault. Our initial optimism of remaining undetected swiftly dissolved," she continued, a note of disdain tainting her words.

"A grave miscalculation, for we found ourselves face-to-face with a formidable magic caster, a guardian of Azjol-Nerub, who extended us a chilling 'welcome,'" she sneered, her brows knitting in frustration. "This spellcaster proved to be a worthy adversary, requiring considerable effort before we could bring him down."

Sylvanas' gaze turned melancholy, her eyes reflecting the somber tale of loss. "Venturing deeper, we encountered a colossal web, its intricate threads woven by a gargantuan spider that lurked within. Tragically, one of our own became ensnared, succumbing to the ferocity of battle," she paused, her voice catching slightly with the weight of sorrow. "I ensured their body was purified by the gentle touch of Light, denying the Scourge the chance to desecrate their remains," she finished, her tone now icy with resolve.

In the midst of her account, the tension in the air was palpable, each word painting a vivid picture of their harrowing expedition into the heart of darkness.

"After overcoming minimal resistance initially, it became apparent that Anub'arak, realizing the gravity of our threat, had withdrawn his forces, intending to face us in person. We discovered him in an eerie arena, where a fierce battle ensued. Tragically, two more of our valiant rangers fell in the line of duty, their sacrifices ensuring our victory. During our hasty escape, we triggered the strategically placed explosives, intending to seal off the Nerubian kingdom. However, despite your forewarning, we underestimated the labyrinthine chambers within. As we observed the collapse, a disconcerting truth became apparent: a gaping crater would mar the land due to the absence of sufficient material to fill it.

It was at this juncture that our attention shifted to a nearby mountain peak, which began to shift ominously, its base weakened by the recent seismic disturbances. To ensure its descent into the crater, I further destabilized its foundation, prompting a spectacular collapse within the void.

Upon completing our mission, we made our arduous journey back." Sylvanas concluded her account, her words painting a vivid picture of their endeavors. Uther, stunned by the magnitude of their actions, could hardly believe his ears. In stark contrast, the Light's Chosen remained serene, neither surprised nor perturbed by the revelation.

"Intriguingly, amidst our journey, we encountered a peculiar sight," Sylvanas continued, her voice tinged with contemplation. "A walrus-like race engaged in combat with ethereal versions of colossal humans. Additionally, we witnessed Tauren warriors locked in battle against the relentless undead forces, albeit closer to Azjol-Nerub. It appears, however, that our actions did not inadvertently endanger them," she added, her words carrying a blend of curiosity and perplexity, leaving Uther bewildered at the unexpected complexities of their mission.

"Tuskarr, or Kalu'ak as they refer to themselves, are likely to be friendly toward us. Their primary occupation revolves around fishing," Light's Chosen explained, displaying an impressive knowledge of various races. "However, the towering humans you witnessed are Vrykul, the forebears of humanity. Specifically, those you encountered are Kvaldir, ethereal entities bound to the sea and devoted to Helya. Regrettably, neither the Vrykul nor the Kvaldir are sympathetic to our cause. The Vrykul revere the Lich King as a deity of death and have willingly chosen to follow him."

Uther and Sylvanas exchanged stunned glances, their astonishment stemming from both the historical revelations and the depth of Light's Chosen's understanding. The idea of Vrykul willingly embracing Arthas and deifying him was profoundly disturbing.

"Is there any chance we could persuade the Vrykul to reconsider their allegiance?" Uther inquired, his thoughts already turning to the strategic advantage of gaining allies while simultaneously weakening Arthas' forces.

Light's Chosen turned to Uther, his response unwavering. "Unless we resort to conquest and subjugation, diplomacy with the Vrykul is futile. Strength is the only currency they respect. Moreover, they harbor a deep-seated aversion for humans, considering us weak and degenerate descendants. In fact, the Vrykul's king once ordered our annihilation, but some chose to defy this decree and fled to Tyr's Fall. There, they raised the first humans and imparted knowledge."

Uther's disappointment was palpable, but one detail puzzled him. "Tyr's Fall?" he inquired, seeking clarification.

"Tirisfall, as it's known today," Light's Chosen responded dismissively. "The point is, they will not become our allies. However, they must not continue as servants of the Lich King."

The callousness in Light's Chosen's tone startled Uther. He had never questioned the enigmatic figure before, but now, a sense of moral responsibility compelled him. "I understand they might be unwilling to change," Uther conceded, "but we must try."

Light's Chosen, unmoved, asserted, "You may attempt, but remember my warning: the Vrykul remain impervious to simple persuasion."

With that, Light's Chosen turned and walked away, leaving Uther and Sylvanas with contemplative expressions. Uther, his eyes burning with resolve, finally turned to Sylvanas, a determination evident in his gaze. In response to Uther's determined expression, Sylvanas fixed him with a quizzical look, her eyebrow arching in silent inquiry.

~~~~
​

As evening descended, Uther found himself standing atop the newly constructed wall, his gaze fixed on the vanishing sun. In the fading light, he allowed the day's revelations to settle in his mind, contemplating the paths laid out before them.

He felt a twinge of gratitude that Sylvanas had seemed receptive to his words about attempting to forge alliances with the Vrykul, or at the very least maintain neutrality with them. Genocide was not his mission; he had come here to prevent such atrocities, not perpetuate them.

For the first time, he found himself at odds with Light's Chosen regarding their course of action. To Uther, the Vrykul were not mere obstacles to be swept away in pursuit of their goals. There had to be a way to coexist, a chance for peace even with those who stood against them. He couldn't shake the notion that there might be common ground, a possibility for understanding and cooperation.

His mind whirred with questions, especially concerning Light's Chosen. Why was there a reluctance to seek peaceful resolutions? Uther pondered, recalling Light's Chosen's past actions with the Scarlet Crusade. Even if they pursued a similar path with the Vrykul, wouldn't it be better than outright annihilation? Was there some insight he was missing, some reason why this course seemed unfeasible to Light's Chosen?

Lost in these thoughts, Uther failed to notice the approach of a soldier until he was addressed. Startled, he turned towards the soldier, his brow furrowed in contemplation.

"My apologies, Lord Uther," the soldier said respectfully. "But you are expected in the command room."

Uther nodded, acknowledging the soldier's message, his mind still a whirlwind of thoughts. With purpose, he proceeded toward the command room, wondering what new developments awaited them.
​

~~~~
​

As Uther stepped into the room, he noticed an unfamiliar device placed on the table, surrounded by Light's Chosen, Sylvanas, and a figure he recognized with a jolt of surprise - Sally Whitemane, the once High Inquisitor of the Scarlet Crusade, now a Penitential Atoner. Oddly, there were no Light markings on her, unlike the others. Uther pushed this curiosity aside for the moment, his attention captured by Light's Chosen's commanding presence.

"Uther, good. Now we can proceed," Light's Chosen said, raising his hand and letting Light flow from it into the mysterious device. Just as Uther was about to inquire about their purpose, a figure materialized before them.

Tirion? It was Tirion Fordring, speaking cheerfully. "Ah, it seems you have settled then. Everything is well here; we have secured Lordaeron. We have even made some new friends from Quel'Thalas."

The mention of Quel'Thalas drew Sylvanas' attention, but before she could inquire, Light's Chosen interjected. "Have you made contact with Ironforge and Stormwind?"

"Yes, not long ago. They seem receptive to our plea for help against Arthas, though not overly enthusiastic. I think they believe our current progress indicates that we can handle the situation ourselves," Tirion replied, his tone carrying a tinge of disappointment.

A brief silence hung over the room after Tirion spoke, interrupted only by a scoff from Sally, who chose not to elaborate further.

Uther felt a mixture of disappointment and understanding. Stormwind and Ironforge, while sympathetic, didn't fully grasp the magnitude of the Scourge threat; they had their own troubles to contend with.

"Are your men still in Stormwind?" Light's Chosen inquired. Tirion furrowed his brows momentarily before responding, "They should still be there."

"Good," Light's Chosen continued, his voice icy. "If they won't assist willingly, we will force their hand. Have your men inform King Varian that there is a black dragon masquerading as a human in his court, working against the interests of his kingdom. If he sends more than token force, this dragon will be exposed."

Uther felt a chill settle in his bones at the ruthlessness of the plan. Then, Light's Chosen continued. "As for Ironforge, if King Magni's daughter has not yet left the city, she will do so soon. She is consorting with the Blackrock Dwarves, attempting a futile peace negotiation between them. While her efforts might succeed, our campaign's success takes precedence."

The room fell into stunned silence. The gravity of Light's Chosen's words left them all in disbelief, struggling to comprehend the cold determination that lay behind his plan.

Uther couldn't hold back any longer. "Lad, this is not the way. It will only lead to resentment and harm our efforts," he spoke with a tone of disapproval, his concern etched on his weathered face.

Light's Chosen turned towards Uther, his gaze piercing and unwavering, yet Uther refused to back down.

"Good," Light's Chosen said after a thoughtful pause, his voice carrying an unexpected note of satisfaction. His response left the others in the room utterly bewildered.

"I had feared you lost your spine, Uther, when you did not question my plan," Light's Chosen explained, his words hanging heavy in the air. "I am not a good leader, Uther. That is why you are here — to lead. As for the information I provided, I leave it for you to decide how to best use it, Tirion."

With that, Light's Chosen turned away, starting to walk out of the room. "Oh, the name of the dragon is Onyxia. As for her human guise, it is Katarina Prestor. The entire house of Prestor is comprised of black dragons; they are our enemies," he added, casting a significant glance towards Uther. "And these are foes we truly can't make allies with, no matter how hard we try."

And just like that, he left, leaving the room in a heavy silence. The weight of his words settled upon those present, forcing them to consider the unsettling truth he had revealed and ponder on the best way forward.​

---

Let me know your thoughts below.

Cheers!

As always three more chapters are available on my Patreon

​

 

[damican]

Glad Uther still has barus

 

[Kordelius]

Sylvanas entered the command room, her sharp eyes taking in the scene. Uther and the Light's Chosen were engaged in conversation, their expressions serious yet determined. She observed Uther for a moment, noting the absence of any resentment lingering from their past encounter.

Despite their occasional clashes, she held no grudge against him. In her eyes, Uther remained a figure of integrity, a beacon of leadership and righteousness.

In retrospect, she understood the complexity of Uther's position during Arthas's ascent to power. He had been a loyal soldier of Lordaeron, and his choices were bound by duty and allegiance. Sylvanas pondered over the past, acknowledging the challenges faced by Uther and the difficult decisions he had to make.

"Ah, Sylvanas, good," the Light's Chosen acknowledged her presence, his tone resonating with confidence. "We are just finishing here."

"As I mentioned earlier, I will be departing shortly," he continued, his voice carrying a sense of trust in their abilities. "I have full faith in both of you to carry on without me. I trust you know how to proceed. Hopefully, Tirion will manage to persuade the Alliance to send reinforcements soon. Additional support would significantly strengthen our position."

Sylvanas couldn't help but be intrigued. "And what exactly will you be doing?" she inquired, her curiosity piqued. The last time he left, he had played a mysterious role in her homeland, an action whose purpose she still didn't fully comprehend.

He turned to face her, his gaze distant as if lost in contemplation. "I will be returning something," he said cryptically, his mind seemingly occupied by other matters. "And securing potential allies," he added, his tone indicating a sense of purpose and determination.

The room hung heavy with tension as Sylvanas exchanged a puzzled glance with Uther. Both were equally bewildered by the Light's Chosen's cryptic words, and their curiosity begged for further explanation. However, before they could voice their questions, the Light's Chosen chose that moment to exit the room, his movements purposeful and resolute.

"Wait!" Uther's voice cut through the air, firm and commanding. "We are in enemy territory; you cannot simply leave whenever it pleases you. While I didn't question it in Lordaeron, we cannot afford to lose you here. I have no doubt you can take care of yourself, but this is not how matters are handled in the midst of war." Uther's tone was exasperated, laden with reprimand, reflecting the concern etched across his face.

Light's Chosen paused in his tracks and turned back toward them, his expression silent yet expectant. Sylvanas found herself nodding in agreement with Uther's sentiment. The weight of leadership could not be shrugged off, not even for someone as formidable as the Light's Chosen. He had acknowledged his own limitations in leadership, yet Sylvanas didn't fully concur with that assessment. It seemed to her that he was attempting to evade the burdens of responsibility that leadership inherently carried.

This incident starkly illustrated his current behavior, highlighting his tendency to retreat without explanation. Despite being a beacon of hope for their troops, he couldn't simply come and go as he pleased. His absence, without clarity or communication, cast an unsettling shadow over their endeavors.

"Uther is right," Sylvanas chimed in, her voice firm yet laced with concern. "Regardless of whether you delegate the position of leadership to the two of us, it does not absolve you of all responsibilities. You are a symbol of hope. You cannot leave and return when it suits you without a word of explanation. The uncertainty of your whereabouts, your actions, and, Light forbid, if something were to happen to you, all of our efforts would be in vain." Her words echoed Uther's previous admonishment, emphasizing the gravity of the situation.

Following her statement, an uneasy silence settled in the room. They stood there, waiting for the Light's Chosen's response, their eyes locked on him. The longer the silence stretched, the more Sylvanas began to doubt herself. Had she and Uther overstepped their bounds? She cast a quick glance toward Uther, searching for reassurance, unable to withstand the weight of the Light's Chosen's silence and stillness.

Uther maintained his unwavering gaze, yet beneath his stern exterior, there was a palpable sense of unease. Finally, the Light's Chosen spoke, his words deliberate and controlled, carrying the gravity of his presence, demanding their attention.

"While I admire your resilience, do not assume the authority to command me. If I must stay and guide you at every step, then perhaps I have overestimated your value and wasted my efforts here. Is that what you're implying?" His words held no kindness or warmth, leaving Sylvanas feeling incredibly insignificant. It echoed the harsh scoldings of her past, reminding her of parental disapproval and stern instructors.

Uther's jaw clenched, and he stood taller, clearly affected by the words as well.

"However," Light's Chosen continued, his tone softening slightly, "I am not entirely without reason. To ease your concerns, I will bring a ranger with me." He paused, lost in thought for a moment. "Velonara will accompany me." With his decision made, he turned and exited the room, leaving Sylvanas and Uther to reflect on what had transpired.

Their familiarity and the Light's Chosen's typically composed demeanor had led them into the folly of thinking they could challenge his decisions. In their complacency, they had forgotten his true nature and the fact that, despite their perceptions, they needed him far more than he needed them.

It was a lesson Sylvanas vowed not to forget, and from Uther's resolute expression, she knew he felt the same.

~~~~
​

As Sylvanas and Uther stood in the courtyard, waiting for Light's Chosen, who had withdrawn to his chambers before his departure, Sylvanas took the opportunity to gauge the overall mood and mindset of their troops upon learning about Light's Chosen's exit.

There was an undercurrent of tension, but it was less pronounced than Sylvanas had anticipated. Most soldiers kept their emotions hidden, revealing nothing. Some seemed unfazed, accepting the situation without concern. Sylvanas wondered if perhaps his previous departure and subsequent return had acclimated them to such event. Maybe she and Uther had been mistaken; Light's Chosen's absence didn't seem to dampen the troops' morale. Quite the opposite, in fact.

It appeared that most soldiers interpreted Light's Chosen's departure as a signal that he had confidence in their abilities, that they had the situation well in hand. To them, his leaving was a silent acknowledgment of their efforts and faith in their ability to remain resilient even in his absence—a morale boost of sorts.

The unexpected reaction surprised Sylvanas. As for Uther, he seemed lost in thought, undoubtedly mulling over the recent reprimand. While Sylvanas still stood by her words, she could now understand Light's Chosen's perspective better. Soldiers who couldn't act without explicit orders were as much of a liability as those who didn't follow orders. It was a delicate balance, and she realized that perhaps both she and Uther needed to reassess their assumptions about the troops' independence and confidence.

The palpable aura of Light's Chosen's presence disrupted Sylvanas from her contemplations. Whatever he had attended to before his departure was evidently completed, for his unhurried yet confident strides resonated with everyone present. A subtle shift occurred among the soldiers; their postures straightened instinctively as they felt his influence.

As he approached, Velonara fell in line beside him. Her movements were silent, unobtrusive, blending in seamlessly with those of the Light's Chosen. But what captured Sylvanas's attention, as well as that of everyone else, was the gnome that Light's Chosen held captive in his hand. The gnome, bound and gagged, exuded a fierce glare and unmistakable discontent, vividly expressing her desire to be elsewhere.

Recalling his recent reprimand, Sylvanas held her tongue, though her curiosity was evident in her eyes. The current situation baffled her entirely.

"My Lord?" Velonara's voice, soft as a whisper, resonated like the chiming of bells in the courtyard. For a moment, it seemed as though she might be ignored. However, Light's Chosen subtly turned his head toward her while continuing his stride.

He raised the gnome to eye level, halting his steps. "Do not mistake her for a mere gnome, Velonara. If not for my restraints, she would have erased us all," he declared, his tone betraying none of his personal sentiments regarding his words.

The weight of his revelation hung heavily in the air, causing fear and confusion to permeate the atmosphere. Light's Chosen turned entirely toward Velonara and rested his hand on her shoulder. "However, do not hold her actions against her. She is as much a slave as you once were."

An unbidden surge of pity stirred in Sylvanas's heart, yet fear persisted, overshadowing her emotions. Despite this, her confusion remained paramount.

"We are set to encounter her kin, beings with significant power, who can return this one to her people. We may negotiate for our lives and perhaps even secure their assistance," Light's Chosen elaborated, his words reaching the ears of all despite his focus on Velonara. "Should you wish to stay behind, I will not hold it against you," he added, his voice suffused with understanding.

For a moment, Velonara froze upon learning of their destination. The ordeal in Azjol-Nerub had demonstrated their lack of knowledge about the world. The prospect of meeting those possessing far greater power filled her heart with trepidation. Yet, from the corner of her eye, she spotted her Lady, standing tall and unyielding, devoid of fear. A newfound determination took hold of her, and she straightened her posture, gazing upon their savior without apprehension. "I will accompany you, my Lord," she proclaimed, her voice resolute, revealing none of the tumultuous emotions that had previously consumed her.

"Then we depart, to meet She who is Life – Alexstrasza, the Queen of Dragons," Light's Chosen declared, mounting his steed and riding out through the gates.​

---

Let me know your thoughts below.

Cheers!

As always three more chapters are available on my Patreon​

 

[yugo]

thanks. I need more!!!

 

[Mehran.prime]

Good story but we need a face and name, it's too much edgy this way some back story will help tremendously.

 

[Kordelius]

Good story but we need a face and name, it's too much edgy this way some back story will help tremendously.

Click to shrink...

Well the unknown is sort of part of the story, but I can understand why someone might not like it. One of the next chapters will actually have some of what you want, I think it was the 19th one but I guess I will add more later.

 

[MasterOfDragonsGod]

Dragon riding time.

 

[Kordelius]

While traversing the region Light's Chosen had designated as the Borean Tundra, Velonara found herself contemplating their forthcoming mission and the enigmatic figures they were bound to meet.

Dragons, a topic she was familiar with, yet her knowledge was limited to tales and descriptions. She had never personally encountered one. However, as she regarded the gnome whom Light's Chosen had singled out, she realized she might have indeed met a dragon before, without recognizing their draconic nature.

The concept that colossal, fire-breathing, flying creatures had the ability to transform into mortal forms struck her as profoundly unsettling. Her thoughts veered back to Light's Chosen's words about the disguised gnome harboring a desire to annihilate them all.

As she attempted to muster the courage to seek clarification, a constant battle raged within her—whether to inquire and risk appearing bothersome, or to remain silent and uninformed.

"Speak," Light's Chosen's voice resonated like a rumbling undercurrent, though his gaze remained fixed ahead as he guided his steed along the trail.

"My Lord," Velonara began, releasing the questions that had been building within her. "Why would she seek to eliminate us, and what do you mean when you said she was a slave?"

For a brief moment, Light's Chosen fell into silence, and the only sound was the whispering wind sweeping across the tundra. A slight shuffle from Light's Chosen caught her attention, and she turned to observe him. He had shifted his gaze toward her before commencing his explanation.

"I may have slightly exaggerated her desire to erase you; her true aim is to erase me and undo all that I have accomplished," he elucidated. Velonara's eyes widened at the revelation. A dragon, belonging to the Bronze Dragonflight—keepers of time—sought to erase his existence. The mention of timelines and the Keepers of Time surpassed her previous comprehension. She had believed that dragons aimed to annihilate them out of hatred or malevolence, but this was an entirely different dimension of conflict.

Light's Chosen continued his discourse, gradually pulling her out of her contemplation. "The Keepers of Time would typically prune discrepancies in the timeline. However, I have grown too powerful for them to manipulate or eliminate me from the timeline. The Light concealed me when I was weak, and I have now become too formidable for the past to be rewritten."

Velonara was flabbergasted by the sheer magnitude of power required to safeguard one's own past. The enormity of such a feat boggled her mind.

"As for their status as slaves," Light's Chosen explained, his disdain evident. "This pertains to the source of their power. There are five Dragonflights—Red, Green, Blue, Bronze, and Black—each endowed with power by different Titans. However, this very power has become their shackles, particularly for the Bronze. Aman'Thul, leader of the Titans and a Time Titan, has envisioned a 'Sacred Timeline,' and the Bronze are bound to ensure its realization."

While Velonara didn't fully grasp the intricacies of what he disclosed, she comprehended the essence of it. Her gaze involuntarily drifted toward the gnome, who appeared to regard Light's Chosen with astonished and wide eyes. It was apparent that she, too, was taken aback by the depth of his knowledge.

In that moment, Velonara felt a surge of empathy and a shared anguish. She could still vividly recall the days when she and her companions had been ensnared in the Lich King's service.

~~~~
​

As they drew closer to the remnants of Azjol-Nerub, Velonara's unease grew. It was evident that Nerubians and other undead creatures would infest the area, and she was determined not to be caught off guard.

Remarkably, Light's Chosen remained undisturbed, his steed maintaining its pace without the slightest hesitation or indication of vigilance. To some, such audacity might appear as arrogance—casually traversing a land teeming with enemies, even venturing near the ruins of a defeated foe's stronghold without expecting an attack.

But the reason behind his unwavering confidence was glaringly apparent: power. Velonara had overheard Light's Chosen chastising her Lady and Uther, and she was acutely aware of his unimaginable might. His revelation about safeguarding his existence in time only deepened the awe she felt for him.

A sudden noise diverted her attention, and her eyes widened in alarm as a horde of Nerubians charged at them. She instinctively turned toward Light's Chosen, her voice catching in her throat, prepared to warn him.

However, he remained as composed as ever, calm and unruffled. Despite her mounting fear, she tried to ready her bow, but Light's Chosen's words halted her trembling hands.

"Do you know what separates men from lesser men? Predators from prey?" he inquired calmly, his words confusing her. Ignoring her bewilderment, he continued, "Fear. Predators smell it... and walk away when they don't."

A sigh escaped him, and he lazily turned his attention to the approaching undead. "Sadly, these poor wretches have lost that most basic of instincts." With a casual flick of his fingers, he skewered the undead with Light, obliterating them all, his gait unwavering.

"It appears that death has made you forget some lessons your instructors undoubtedly imparted," he observed without a hint of harshness, merely stating the truth. Yet, Velonara felt a sharp pang of shame.

"Shame serves no purpose here. Improve. Even before the Light embraced you, these wretches would have been a mere nuisance to you… now, they are like chaff in the wind. Do not fear the ants crawling beneath your boot. Crush them and move on," he advised.

Velonara fell into deep contemplation, raising her hand to observe the sparks of Light dancing across her fingers. Memories of her early days as a novice ranger surfaced—the fear, the uncertainty, and the shame of failure, driving her to strive for improvement.

Had she truly forgotten these lessons in death? She vividly recalled the hordes of undead she had slain before being overrun, the terror that had once crippled her.

Her hands began to tremble, but then Light surged within her, purging her fear and filling her with strength. Clenching her fist and gritting her teeth, she resolved not to let fear govern her any longer.
​

~~~~
​

As they ventured into the Dragonblight, a vast expanse of snow stretched before them, covering the land in a blanket of white. The biting wind cut through the few trees in the area, cold enough to freeze one's very marrow.

Yet, Velonara felt none of it. The harsh winds merely ruffled her cape and scattered snowflakes around her. Traversing this region proved to be a challenge; the deep snow slowed their progress significantly, making each step a struggle.

Finally, she spotted a structure in the distance. Judging by their approach, Velonara deduced that it was their destination. Ruins of a massive road or some sort of pathway stretched alongside it.

"Wyrmrest Temple, the meeting place of the Dragonflights," Light's Chosen spoke up, his tone carrying a peculiar quality that Velonara couldn't quite grasp—reminiscent, perhaps?

Light's Chosen slowly turned his head, surveying the area. Velonara tensed, wondering if he had sensed something. After a moment of silence, he asked, "Do you know why this area is called the Dragonblight?" His question hung in the air, and Velonara looked up at him in silence. "Dragons come here to die," he answered, sending a chill down her spine as the realization settled in. Before she could voice her thoughts, he continued, anticipating her unspoken question. "Yes, the Scourge have plundered their bones."

Suddenly, a roar echoed through the air, and Velonara hurriedly raised her head. Her eyes widened as an enormous red dragon soared towards the temple. The Light's Chosen merely hummed in response. "Good, she has returned," he remarked, his tone unwavering. Velonara furrowed her brows in confusion—she? Did he mean Alexstrasza, the dragon he intended to meet? Realizing he had already moved ahead while she stood still, she rushed to catch up, steeling herself for the meeting that lay ahead.
​

~~~~
​

As they approached the temple base, figures and smaller dragons came into view, watching them intently as they awaited their arrival.

As they drew closer, Velonara was taken aback by what she saw. The figure looked like High Elf! One of her old kinsmen, disguised as a dragon, gazed at them silently, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the gnome tied up and hanging from Light's Chosen's steed. Undoubtedly, he could discern her true nature as a dragon.

Silently, Light's Chosen picked up the gnome and raised her towards the dragon concealed as an elf. "I believe this is one of yours," he spoke calmly, prompting the dragon to raise an eyebrow at the gnome before turning his gaze towards Light's Chosen. "Indeed she is. Would you be so kind to let her go?" His tone was light, but the underlying warning was clear.

In response, Light's Chosen released the gnome, removing the restraints he had placed on her. As the gnome hit the ground, she shook herself and stood tall, briefly glancing at both Light's Chosen and Velonara. For a moment, Velonara feared an attack.

"Chronormu," the hidden dragon addressed the gnome in a stern tone, causing her to stop and face him. Her hands on her hips, she looked up defiantly. "Don't you 'Chronormu' at me! Do you know what he has done? Who he is?!" She would've continued, but the hidden dragon interrupted her tirade.

"The Queen wishes to meet them." With that, he gestured to the two dragons standing behind him and turned towards Light's Chosen and Velonara. Light's Chosen dismounted his steed and approached the dragon, climbing onto his back under Velonara's wide, unbelieving eyes.

"Come along, Velonara," Light's Chosen said as his dragon began to ascend, prompting her to hurriedly climb onto the other dragon. The dragon ascended higher and higher, circling the temple. Velonara couldn't deny the excitement she felt. She was riding a dragon! Well, more of a passenger, but still!

When the dragon reached the top and settled down, she climbed off and gazed at it in awe. The dragon, sensing her gaze, turned towards her, curiosity in its eyes. If she could blush, she would be red. Seeing Light's Chosen moving, she whispered a quick thank you and rushed after him.

Ignoring the amused huffing of the dragon—It was just the wind! Just the wind!—she approached the figures ahead and was once again taken aback. They looked like elves, only three times as tall. The woman in the middle, dressed in a scandalous outfit, had horns on her head. Was she perhaps...?

Light's Chosen stopped in the center of the circular room, and silence fell upon them as both sides observed each other silently. Velonara couldn't help the nervousness she felt. She remembered Light's Chosen's previous words. Fear was her enemy. She settled herself, allowing it to pass, standing tall and motionless, attempting to emulate Light's Chosen as much as possible.

Tiny tip-taps resounded from behind them, but Velonara dared not look back, keeping her gaze fixed straight ahead. Finally, the owner of the steps came into sight, stepping up to Alexstrasza, making the vast size difference between them even more obvious.

Alexstrasza gazed down at Chronormu, a gentle smile growing on her face. "Hello, Chromie. It seems you got into a bit of trouble," she said with a teasing lilt in her voice. To this, Chromie huffed before wildly gesturing at Light's Chosen. "Do you know how many problems he's been causing for the Bronze?! The whole timeline is tangled up, and because of his echoing power, we cannot travel the timeline to fix it!" She stomped her feet on the ground, sounding almost childlike. "And not just that! He tied me up and kept me bound for so long!" Now she was just whining, a fact that seemed to amuse Alexstrasza to no end.

Chromie seemed to notice this amusement. "It is not funny!"

Alexstrasza turned her attention back to them, her amusement fading into seriousness. "While I am grateful for your restraint in containing, Chronormu, changing the timeline is a very serious matter that could have unforeseen consequences. I would like to know your reasons for doing this," she said calmly. Her voice held no accusations but was filled with a steely command, resonating with the authority of a queen. Even though they were not her underlings, Velonara felt her spine straighten further in the presence of such regality.​

---

Let me know your thoughts below.

Cheers!

As always three more chapters are available on my Patreon​

---

​

 

[yugo]

thanks. I need more!!!

 

[damican]

give this dragon ho a good education in how theyve all fucked the world up

 

[Kordelius]

give this dragon ho a good education in how theyve all fucked the world up

Click to shrink...

Next chapter.

 

[Kordelius]

"Consequences?" The word was uttered softly, perhaps even absentmindedly, yet Velonara could feel the tension in the air. "For whom, exactly?" Light's Chosen said coldly.

"The world!" Chromie exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air.

"Like the actions you have taken and not taken when needed?" Light's Chosen's tone was filled with accusation and brewing anger. Velonara felt out of her depth here; they had only just arrived, and the atmosphere was growing increasingly intense.

Chromie sputtered for a moment before retorting heatedly, "You do not know anything! All we have done is to ensure the survival of this world!"

"Have you now? Because to me, it seems quite the opposite," Light's Chosen's words grew colder and colder, sending chills down Velonara's spine, a sensation she hadn't felt since her heart still beat.

A hand on her shoulder made her jerk back. Alexstrasza stood beside her, appearing out of nowhere. Wide-eyed, Velonara looked between where she had stood before and where she was now, utterly baffled at how she moved without notice.

"Come," Alexstrasza beckoned her, but her feet remained rooted to the floor. She was determined to stand by Light's Chosen's side. "It is not safe for you here," Alexstrasza commented, her eyes fixed on the heated exchange between Light's Chosen and Chromie. The tension in the air was growing, and Velonara felt the power rising around her.

She gritted her teeth and stood her ground, burying her apprehensions in the Light. She had been entrusted to accompany the Light's Chosen, and that was what she intended to do.

Alexstrasza, seeing her resolve, sagged a little before returning to her previous spot. The power in the air intensified.

"Opposite? OPPOSITE!" Chromie's frustration boiled into anger at what she perceived as a blatant disregard for her flight's work.

"Chronormu, that is enough," Alexstrasza commanded before turning toward Light's Chosen. "Continue."

"Time and time again, your flight has acted against the betterment of all those who inhabit this world. Paving the way for our enemies to grow stronger. Azshara, Neltharion, to name a few. Even now, you seek to weaken the world by standing in the way and trying to undo all that I have done," Light's Chosen continued, his passion striking Velorana as profoundly unusual. It humanized him, which felt odd given his nature. He had never felt human before.

"My actions have saved countless lives and will save countless more. So tell me – why do you seek to prevent it?" He finished coldly.

Chromie crossed her arms and gazed coldly back at him. "They were meant to die." Those words sparked a surge of power from Light's Chosen. Velonara felt her knees buckle, but the Light bolstered her, allowing her to remain standing. Chromie was squashed into the floor, unable to move, while the male dragon beside Alexstrasza had fallen to his knee. Alexstrasza, still standing, appeared unruffled, her closed eyes the only sign of her involvement.

"How… dare… you." Cold and unforgiving anger laced Light's Chosen's tone. "Who gives you the right to decide who lives and who dies!"

"Please." Alexstrasza's calm voice cut through the power and anger in the air. After a moment, Light's Chosen reined in his power, allowing everyone to breathe again. Chromie shakily stood up, her eyes wide with fear as she looked at the imposing Light's Chosen. She had finally realized the danger he presented and how easily he could obliterate her.

"You speak… true," Alexstrasza's voice sounded sad as she interrupted the silence, making Chromie turn toward her with a shocked and betrayed expression.

"Time and time again, we the Dragonflights have failed when the world needed us the most. Worse, our actions created conflict on this world," Alexstrasza said, gazing outside across the lands of Dragonblight, no doubt recalling those moments with deep regret.

Alexstrasza turned toward Light's Chosen. "Speak, Champion. I would hear your words and understand your decisions, and the path you walk," she encouraged, her eyes holding a mix of curiosity and empathy.

Chromie stood speechless for a moment, her astonishment evident. When she tried to leave, Alexstrasza's voice cut through the room like a command. "Chronormu, you will also remain and listen." Her tone allowed no room for disagreement or disobedience.

Chromie turned, her expression defiant, but the icy gaze of Alexstrasza halted her in her tracks. With a resigned sigh, she bowed her head and stood to the side, prepared to listen.

A heavy silence settled in the room as they all awaited the Light's Chosen's words. Velonara found herself intensely interested in what he would say. His motives, desires, and the simple question of why he acted the way he did had been debated among those who had followed him. But no one had dared approach him directly and ask. He had always been something more, something larger than they could comprehend. The thought of questioning or, Light forbid, demanding something of him had never crossed their minds. And if his dressing down of Uther and Lady Windrunner was any indication, he did not respond well to demands.

Velonara felt a mix of curiosity and wariness, hoping that Alexstrasza's intervention hadn't aggravated him further.

After a tense pause, the Light's Chosen began to speak, his voice filled with emotion like never before. "As I walked the cursed lands of Tirisfal, I felt sadness, disgust, and anger. So much anger for all the lives that had been snuffed out, for all those turned into abominations, used to inflict pain and suffering on others.

"As I knelt on the ground that had been twisted and felt its pain, I wept in sadness. When I beheld the animals that had unimaginable horrors inflicted upon them and now roamed this twisted and corrupted land, their agony-filled existence filled me with sympathy.

"As despair threatened to swallow me and darkness surrounded me, I beheld a feeble ray of light, struggling to bring even a measure of illumination to this cursed existence that surrounded me.

"It was then that determination filled me, a fire burning in my chest, roaring in anger. I would not go quietly into that dark night; I would rage and rave. So with all my might, I roared at the Light, demanding it grant me strength and power—power enough to achieve victory against the dying of the light.

"And it answered my call. The Light began to flood my flesh and blood, overwhelming me. But I would not go quietly into that good night! I purged the weakness from myself and allowed the Light to fill me until I could take no more.

"I was reborn that day."

With his tale concluded, another heavy silence descended upon the room, the weight of his words sinking in. The truth behind his actions and the depths of his determination had been laid bare for all to see.

As Alexstrasza silently gazed at them and the land beyond the temple, a myriad of emotions flashed across her face. Velonara could sense the weight of centuries in her eyes, the burdens of a queen who had seen the rise and fall of empires. But then, determination set in. She turned to the male standing next to her, who, under her focused attention, straightened and patiently waited for her words.

"Krasus, you will gather others and join our new friends," Alexstrasza commanded. As she finished, Krasus' eyes widened in surprise, but he remained composed. Alexstrasza had already turned away from him, redirecting her attention back to Light's Chosen.

"For now, Krasus and those he deems worthy of joining you will assist you. I must take care of other matters, but once they are done, we will join you in removing this evil from our world once and for all," Alexstrasza declared, her words filling Velonara with elation. They had secured the aid of dragons. Dragons! The magnitude of their assistance was not lost on her, and she could hardly wait to witness the reactions of the others once they returned with this news.

"Nozdormu will not like this," Chromie huffed from the side, voicing her concerns, but fell silent under Alexstrasza's stern gaze. "Nozdormu will be quiet. For too long have I allowed events to pass without questioning them," Alexstrasza retorted with a small smirk. "Besides, you said it yourself: this timeline cannot be changed. All that is left for us to do is act. We may fail or we may succeed. In the end, all that matters is that we gave it our all."

With that, Alexstrasza dismissed them. Velonara and Light's Chosen walked away with Krasus, who requested some time to gather others before departing. They both agreed to wait.

Meanwhile, Chromie shot one last baleful look toward Light's Chosen before disappearing. Velonara couldn't quite shake her unease. The idea of a dragon, especially one capable of manipulating time, attempting to hinder them weighed heavily on her mind. She understood that she couldn't openly reveal her misgivings, especially now that they had secured assistance from the Dragon Queen.

Hopefully, Light's Chosen shared her concerns. In the unlikely event of sabotage, they needed to be vigilant and thwart any attempts to undermine their cause. The fate of their world depended on it.

---

Chromie get's put in her place, we learn something about Light's Chosen (will strive to reveal more in some other chapters, but won't be for some time, sorry) and we gain a new ally.

Let me know your thoughts below.

Cheers!

As always three more chapters are available on my Patreon​

 

[tamagat]

RAGE! RAGE AGAINST THE DYING OF THE LIGHT! DO NOT GO GENTLY INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT!

 

[Kordelius]

As Korialstrasz made his way through the lower floors of the temple, his keen gaze assessed each individual attending to their respective tasks. With every silent glance, he mulled over potential candidates for the important role bestowed upon him by their Queen.

It was clear they needed individuals adept at interacting with mortal races—ones with an even temperament. Another crucial factor was their experience in battle, an unavoidable aspect of the task ahead.

Yet another consideration arose in his mind: the likelihood of injuries in combat. Hence, a few healers among their group wouldn't go amiss. Now came the query of the group's size. It couldn't be too substantial, lest it unsettled those they sought to aid. Chromie's actions might have made the mortals wary of Dragonkind.

It seemed prudent to remain in their Visages, minimizing the impact of their presence. Ultimately, Korialstrasz sought capable combatants and healers who could adeptly utilize their Visages. Names and faces flickered in his thoughts, some discarded while others were marked for a conversation.

Having made his choices, he set forth toward the nearest candidate, his mind now shifting to the chain of events leading to their current situation.

Unknown to their visitors, their arrival had been anticipated—not merely observed as they journeyed through the snow. On the day Chromie rashly attempted to mend the timeline and consequently faced capture, Soridormi had arrived at the Wyrmrest Temple.

She elucidated the situation, beseeching Alexstrasza for aid, both in rectifying the timeline and securing Chromie's release. However, upon learning of this figure's actions since revealing themselves, Alexstrasza grew pensive and declined to assist. Furthermore, she forbade the Bronze from hindering this enigmatic individual.

For some inexplicable reason, Alexstrasza was certain that this individual would desire to speak with her, their meeting likely to dictate her decision.

Scouts had been dispatched to observe the newcomers and their actions upon reaching the shores. Their skirmish during the attempt to establish a foothold and the simultaneous dispatch of a Light-infused undead party to assault Azjol-Nerub, that had turned to be quite successful.

Korialstrasz couldn't help but feel impressed. Their strength, resilience, and unyielding dedication to vanquishing the Scourge were beyond question.

In the moments leading up to the lone figure's arrival at the Wyrmrest Temple, accompanied by the Light-infused undead bearing Chromie, Krasus observed the approach with a mix of confusion and intrigue. The apparent lack of fear and urgency in the person's demeanor puzzled him. Even a dragon would exercise caution traversing an area potentially rife with enemies. Witnessing such utter disregard for danger was both confounding and remarkable.

However, now that Krasus had met this individual and, more crucially, felt the raw power exuding from them, understanding began to dawn. A wolf doesn't quake before the sheep that surround it; it's the sheep that ought to tremble.

Krasus, like any sentient being, had experienced fear, yet confronting the overwhelming power that this individual wielded, he realized something profound—he had forgotten what true fear was. Despite his best efforts to resist, to stand against the surge of power that forced him to the ground, he found himself utterly overwhelmed.

He couldn't fathom the intense pressure Chromie must have endured, bearing the full brunt of this formidable power.

Reflecting on the stranger's words and actions, Krasus couldn't deny their validity. Many times, he had questioned the decisions made by the Bronze, raising concerns about various events, including the capture and exploitation of their Queen by the orcs. No, he harbored no anger—none at all!

Seeking to regain his composure, Krasus closed his eyes, drawing deep breaths in an attempt to steady himself.

~~~~
​

Krasus led a group of twenty, including himself, approaching the enigmatic duo of the Light's Chosen and his companion. As he studied them during their approach, he noted Velonara's attempts to mirror the Light's Chosen. Her interest in the surroundings and some evident nervousness amidst the presence of dragons were traits Krasus easily comprehended. The proximity of powerful beings alone could set anyone on edge, even without a hint of aggression.

To a casual onlooker, both Velonara and the Light's Chosen would appear as still as statues, seemingly unaffected by their environment.

However, while Velonara displayed some signs of life, the Light's Chosen was an entirely different case. If not for witnessing the man move at all, Krasus might have been convinced he was a statue, unmoved and undisturbed by the world around him. He remained utterly still, an eerie stillness that unsettled Krasus. Living creatures, especially powerful ones, were not meant to be so motionless. Even the mightiest predators exhibited some subtle movement, especially when stalking prey. Yet the Light's Chosen displayed none. The only beings Krasus had seen so motionless were the Keepers, made of stone and bound by their duties.

As they drew closer, the man finally stirred, his head turning slightly, a movement that seemed almost as though stone grinded against stone. Silence blanketed the space as their group halted before the two figures, awaiting a response.

Seemingly content with the minimal gesture of acknowledgment, Krasus stepped forward to propose their plan. "We are prepared to depart. To save time, we will fly as close as possible to your base before landing and proceeding on foot," he suggested, outlining the strategy.

"Very well," the Light's Chosen replied before striding toward the tower's edge, prompting a momentary confusion in Krasus. He hadn't yet designated the flight arrangements.

However, astonishment swept over Krasus as radiant wings sprouted from the man's back. He arched an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Come, Velonara," commanded the Light's Chosen, jolting Velonara out of her stupor. She rushed to his side, a mix of confusion and surprise playing across her face.

As the Light's Chosen laid his hand on her shoulder, wings emerged from Velonara's back. It took her a moment to adjust to this newfound appendage before taking flight, mirroring the Light's Chosen's actions.

Left to observe the surreal spectacle, Krasus turned to his group. "Let's go," he stated simply, no further words necessary for the task at hand.
​

~~~~
​

Uther's mind buzzed with a blend of confusion and apprehension as he trailed alongside Sylvanas, traversing a path that seemed to lead to the unknown. The veiled nature of their destination only heightened his unease, especially since Sylvanas offered no more than cryptic assurances that "all will be revealed."

As they left behind the port, which stood as a testament to their recent achievements, a knot of nervous anticipation began to coil within him. His attempts to glean information about their purpose or destination were met with Sylvanas's tantalizing yet infuriating responses—always coy and filled with enigmatic hints. "You will see," she'd say with a smirk that hinted at secrets hidden just beneath the surface. Uther suppressed the urge to sigh; surprises were not his preferred path, yet an insatiable curiosity gnawed at him, fueling his patience.

Standing amidst the vast emptiness of the wilderness, Uther couldn't stifle his impatience. The endless waiting only served to exacerbate his restlessness, and the encroaching chill in the air wasn't helping. He began to grow increasingly testy, his features settling into an irritable expression as time passed without a hint of the purpose behind this clandestine gathering.

A sudden, swift movement from Sylvanas jerked Uther from his reverie, prompting him to scan their surroundings for any sign of danger. Yet, despite his vigilant sweep, there was nothing that immediately threatened them. Turning toward Sylvanas for an explanation, he noticed her fixed gaze upward, and in reflex, he followed her line of sight, eyes widening in awe.

A celestial entity soared toward them—a being of radiant Light, its wings an ethereal spectacle that illuminated the world around it. As the luminous figure drew closer, Uther's breath caught in his chest, awestruck by the sheer majesty of the being. It was the Light's Chosen, descending gracefully from the heavens. The splendor of the Light's aura around him bathed the environment in a surreal brilliance.

The wonderment deepened as another figure, accompanied by the same radiant wings of Light, landed nearby. It was Velonara—either empowered to bear such divine wings or having learned to manifest them herself. Their unexpected arrival, however, only served to compound Uther's burning curiosity. Why had this meeting been arranged in such a remote and desolate place? The unanswered questions weighed heavily on his mind, amplifying his confusion and impatience.

Once more, Uther's attempt to voice his thoughts was abruptly interrupted by the shadowy presence casting a veil over them. His gaze instinctively lifted upward, only to be greeted by an awe-inspiring sight—dragons, a multitude of them, soaring gracefully in the skies above before descending earthward.

As each dragon touched the ground, a tremor rippled through the terrain, followed by a transmutation that left Uther breathless. The massive, majestic dragons shifted and contorted, morphing into humanoid forms—humans and elves. Uther squinted, absorbing the revelation that dragons possessed the ability to change their appearance. The realization unsettled him slightly, casting a new layer of intrigue upon the creatures.

Surveying the unfamiliar faces surrounding him, Uther couldn't place a single individual. However, he understood the futility of recognition, realizing that their forms were as malleable as the dragons'—any prior acquaintance could be cunningly disguised.

"An intriguing transformation," remarked Sylvanas, her curiosity piqued by the shape-shifting display. Meanwhile, one of the transformed dragons approached them—an entity known as Korialstrasz or Krasus, as introduced by the Light's Chosen.

"Uther, Sylvanas," the Light's Chosen began, his voice resonating with authority, "meet Korialstrasz, also known as Krasus. She of Life, Alexstrasza has pledged her support to our cause and entrusted him to gather those he deems essential for our mission."

Krasus, momentarily baffled by the Light's Chosen's unusual designation of Alexstrasza as "She of Life," opted to defer the inquiry for later. Instead, he redirected his attention toward Uther—a being whose aura felt oddly peculiar—and Sylvanas, another Light-infused undead, both standing before him.

From their poised demeanor and presence, Krasus deduced that these two figures held some measure of authority. He acknowledged them both with a respectful nod, carefully considering his words before speaking. "The Scourge is a blight on life, and while tentative plans were in motion regarding its eradication, assisting you in this task is imperative." Though not an outright fabrication, Krasus knew the urgency of this alliance superseded any previous considerations about battling the undead.

Uther reciprocated the gesture with equal respect, his expression softening as he addressed the dragons. "Well met. Any aid in combatting the blight that plagues our world is deeply appreciated." His relief was palpable; encountering dragons supportive of their cause provided a glimmer of hope amid the daunting challenges they faced.

Sylvanas, however, remained reserved, her shrewd gaze fixed on Krasus, a silent assessment unfolding as she attempted to glean as much as possible from the dragon's demeanor and words.

Light's Chosen, always commanding in tone, set the course forward. "Our next imperative is to secure a foothold in Dragonblight, a strategic position from which we can assail Naxxramas. The desecration of dragon remains by the Scourge must be halted immediately. They must not continue their abhorrent attempts at resurrecting Frost Wyrms from the bones of the deceased dragons."

The weight of Light's Chosen's words had a distinct impact on each of them. Krasus, learning of the Scourge's horrifying practices, felt a surge of visceral shock and anger that radiated through his being. The sheer audacity and sacrilege of such acts fueled a righteous fury within him.

Uther, with his profound connection to honor and reverence, empathized with Krasus's turmoil. The desecration of dragon remains struck a chord deep within him, igniting a sense of shared outrage and determination.

Sylvanas, unsurprised by the Scourge's vile tactics, was already contemplating the practicalities of constructing a new stronghold. Her mind swiftly shifted gears, considering the potential assistance the dragons could offer in this endeavor, calculating the best strategic approach.

Each individual's response was a nuanced reflection of their perspectives and experiences, united by a shared resolve to combat the nefarious deeds of the Scourge.​

---

Let me know your thoughts below.

Cheers!

As always three more chapters are available on my Patreon​

 

[Fenrir112]

Good chapter. I always tought it was ridiculous that the red dragon flight allowed the scourge to do this right under their nose.

 

[Kordelius]

As the mortals' new fort took shape, Krasus had to admit they were quite experienced in such things. After much discussion, it had been decided—with permission from Krasus—that the best location for the new stronghold in Dragonblight would be built in the mountains to the east of Wyrmrest Temple.

Not only was its proximity close enough to the floating necropolis of Naxxramas to serve as a good staging ground for attacking, but the close proximity to the Temple itself offered tangible benefits as well, such as employing additional forces to ensure that the Scourge's stronghold did not attempt to escape by having some of the elder and stronger dragons camp around it.

Then again, he was uncertain if it was truly necessary, for the moment they began the construction, Naxxramas had attempted to float away. Yet chains made of Light burst from the ground and impaled it, stopping it in its tracks.

From what he had heard, the last time they had seen it, Light's Chosen had allowed it to escape. Yet it seemed he had decreed that it would fall here and was not interested in allowing it to flee.

To Krasus, this simply proved what he believed previously—Light's Chosen had no need for help from anyone in dealing with this threat. His actions in gathering allies were borne of pragmatism, plain and simple.

"Mortals, they never cease to amaze." A soft and familiar voice spoke from beside him. Turning towards the speaker, he beheld Alexstrasza, who was looking at the mortals working in front of them with some fondness.

He furrowed his brows in some confusion. He did not think that she meant the simple fact of building. Did she perhaps mean the whole thing they were doing? Steadfastly working towards destroying this threat that threatened the world and that they have felt the effects of firsthand.

Some would think that they are singularly motivated by vengeance and while that may be true for some, it was much less than what he expected. Most simply strived to safeguard the world from this threat.

"Do you disagree with all this, Krasus?" Alexstrasza asked after a moment, still gazing ahead. There was some measure of vulnerability in her tone. Krasus did not even have to think for a moment. "No, I don't disagree with any of this. Quite the opposite, it gladdens me to see this happen," he replied, not a shred of hesitancy in his voice.

"Long have I said that we should have a closer relationship with mortals. All this is just proof that we should have done so sooner, for while Light's Chosen had not arisen in a world where, with our assistance, none of this had come to pass. One must ask if the price paid by those who have died and suffered, as well as the man he once was, is too high." As he finished speaking, the sadness in his tone was unmistakable.

For a moment, Alexstrasza was silent before she began to speak haltingly. "Even before then, had we seen the threat that the orcish invasion presented, perhaps they would not have…" She trailed off, and Krasus understood and placed his hand on her back in support. She turned towards him and smiled at him in thanks.

So they stood there and observed as their beliefs were affirmed, and their new convictions were strengthening.

~~~~
​

Sally Whitemane gazed intensely at Light's Chosen, seated upon his steed once more. Silently and vigilantly, her eyes followed his gaze toward a floating, menacing sight—the necropolis of Naxxramas, their targeted destination and the primary reason for the stronghold's construction. A sneer tugged at her face as her hand tightened around Light's Wrath held in her grasp.

Oh, how she longed to charge into that accursed place and purge it with the power of Light. While it wouldn't happen immediately, she consoled herself with the knowledge that Light's Chosen had prevented any attempts at escape, ensuring its demise here.

A shadow overhead made her look up to see one of their new allies flying above—dragons. As a child, she had heard stories of these creatures but had never imagined she would meet one.

Like many others, she was quite distraught when Light's Chosen revealed that one had attempted to destroy what they had achieved, what he had done. She couldn't comprehend how anyone could consider his actions negative.

Returning to life the heroes of old, allowing them to stand against the darkness threatening to engulf their world. Amongst them Uther, the Lightbringer himself—a legendary figure who stood against darkness until the end, now granted the chance to finish what he had begun.

Cleansing Stratholme and putting the tortured souls to rest at last, not to mention utterly destroying Baron Rivendare, the power-hungry fool who betrayed his kingdom and its people for power, brought a sneer to her face. Once she learned of the treacherous baron's fate, she lamented only the fact that his end came too swiftly, unlike those of his victims.

However, that wasn't the only thing Light's Chosen did in Stratholme. The more critical part, at least to her, was the revelation of the corruption within the Scarlet Crusade. How they had been manipulated and twisted to serve the purposes of a dreadlord masquerading as their venerated leader, leading them away from their path, down a dark and twisted one.

Others might have simply killed them all for their crimes, and she wouldn't begrudge them. Light's Chosen had chosen differently, offering them a chance to redeem themselves in the Light, and so they became the Penitential Atoners, carrying the marks of their sins and the chains of their prison with them. While many believed that Sally was not one and did not carry such marks, she did, hers were simply of a different make, and she carried them without regret.

Hearing that someone had decided that all that he had done was a bad thing was something Sally could not accept. So, in her mind, dragons became enemies.

Seeing Light's Chosen return from his trip, having secured draconic allies that did not begrudge what they had done, instead congratulating them and offering assistance, made her confused and uncertain.

While some doubts lingered in her mind, she could not deny the valuable assistance they had provided.

As Sally considered all this, she noticed a group of soldiers staggering through the gate, injuries covering them. It seemed it was time for her to return to her own duties.
​

~~~~
​

Darion and the group of soldiers he was with engaged in a skirmish against the forces deployed by the Scourge, intent on hindering the construction of their new fort. He had no doubt that a larger force was en route to remove them and eliminate the threat they posed to Naxxramas.

His gaze involuntarily shot to the floating monstrosity, and his anger and sorrow grew. Trapped there and turned into a weapon of the Scourge was his own father – Alexandros Mograine, The Ashbringer.

When he learned that Naxxramas had been allowed to escape back in Lordaeron, he was furious! He had wanted to march up to Light's Chosen and demand why he allowed it.

Fortunately, those with clearer minds were able to calm him and explain the reasoning, even if he wished otherwise. As his anger cooled, he could not deny the truth. While the actions taken in Lordaeron had given them hope, there were many other things that had to be taken care of first.

Darion had attempted to sneak aboard one of the ships but was discovered by Light's Chosen himself. When Light's Chosen turned toward him, Darion felt as if his entire being was laid bare before his gaze. In the end, he had simply said one thing – "Let us see if you are worthy, Darion Mograine."

Even now, he could not understand what Light's Chosen had meant with those words. Worthy? Worthy of what? It was something that always nagged at the back of his mind, yet the answer remained elusive.

Ultimately, he chose to focus on his primary reason for coming here—to free his father. Not to say he did not agree with the overall cause that had brought them here. The Scourge was a literal plague threatening the world and must be destroyed.

Fortunately for Darion, both of these goals aligned. As he killed the last of the undead in this wave, he looked around. While many were injured, fortunately, there were no casualties. After setting fire to the corpses, they began the trek back to the fort to receive some healing.

As they grew closer, many of them looked toward Light's Chosen. Once more, he had planted himself in a single place and remained unmoving. The Scourge had launched attacks at him, yet none had even elicited the slightest movement. The dead sent at him perished long before reaching him, and magic launched at him simply failed to reach him.

His indomitable will and immense power stood as a stalwart bulwark behind which they all gathered and were able to push forward. While Darion and many others understood that he did not require their assistance, him providing his assistance to them so that they might right the wrongs committed and ensure a better tomorrow was appreciated by many.
​

~~~~
​

Bolvar cursed the unyielding cold and dreary weather of the place; the incessant snowstorms were more than an inconvenience, slowing down every step to a crawl. The bitter irony was that while it bothered them, the undead adeptly used the cover of the weather to their advantage.

When the envoys from Lordaeron arrived in Stormwind, their tale left everyone stunned. A man wielded such profound power in the Light that undead couldn't endure his presence—a man who arrived at the shattered kingdom, performing miracles at the Light's Hope Chapel. He breathed life back into those long deceased and led them to cleanse Stratholme of the Undead.

His actions against the Scarlet Crusade were severe, conscripting them to seek redemption through combat to atone for their crimes. There was also the startling transformation of the Forsaken, becoming Light-infused undead and unquestioningly following this chosen one of the Light.

Sylvanas Windrunner, the Banshee Queen, led the way as the first, marching on Undercity and purging those undead who had crossed a line, while offering Light's salvation to those who remained redeemable.

Tirion Fordring, having returned, directed the remaining forces in Lordaeron to purge the land and begin its reconstruction. It all sounded fantastical and utterly unbelievable, leaving many hesitant to accept it as truth.

Instead, they chose to mock and ridicule the envoys, accusing them of spinning fantastical yarns. Chief among the skeptics was Katarina Prestor, at whom the envoys laughed heartily, until their laughter abruptly ceased. With a sudden coldness, Katarina's true identity was unveiled, her disguise burned away to reveal the stark truth before the city's eyes.

Her departure was as dramatic as her reveal, causing an explosion that claimed many lives and inflicted heavy collateral damage. However, despite the chaos, none could deny the undeniable truth in the envoys' words, forcing the populace to reconsider their initial disbelief.

A snort escaped Bolvar as another revelation came to light in Vereesa's presence—Quel'Thalas had been rebuilding under the leadership of Prince Kael'Thas Sunstrider.

There were evidently numerous other developments in Quel'Thalas, yet the envoys lacked concrete information on these matters.

Ultimately, King Varian had no qualms committing to aid in dealing with the Scourge threat. It was not only the morally right choice but also a repayment for their revelation of a plot within the city.

Consequently, it was decided that Bolvar would lead the vanguard to showcase their commitment. Additional forces would follow once more information was gathered about the deeds of Katarina, or rather Onyxia.

Upon reaching the Northrend port, Bolvar discovered that the main force had penetrated deeper into enemy territory and was currently establishing a new fort to launch an assault on a Scourge stronghold.

He left a portion of his men to fortify the port's defenses and led the rest, guided by one of Sylvanas's rangers, towards the newly emerging fort.

While their wariness towards her persisted, even after her revelation of allegiance to the Light, Bolvar found himself deeply grateful for her guidance amidst the relentless snowstorm and the unfamiliar terrain. Her vigilance had repeatedly spared them from ambushes and kept them on course.

As the fort loomed closer, Bolvar couldn't help but anticipate a well-deserved warm meal and respite. Yet, upon sighting Uther and, unless he was mistaken, Sylvanas Windrunner at the gates of the fort, he knew his much-needed rest would have to wait even longer.​

---

Let me know your thoughts below.

Cheers!

As always three more chapters are available on my Patreon​

 

[Fenrir112]

Good chapter!

 

[Mehran.prime]

Good job
Thanks for the chapter.

 

[Kordelius]

The completion of the fort marked a significant milestone, with additional reinforcements arriving to bolster their forces in readiness for the impending assault on Naxxramas. This development brought Sylvanas, Uther, Krasus, and Bolvar together in the command center, diligently working to devise the most effective plan for the upcoming attack. However, despite their collective efforts, a conspicuous obstacle hindered their planning process.

"…all this is mere conjecture; we're lacking vital information about Naxxramas itself. We must determine how we're going to acquire it," Uther vocalized, echoing the thoughts shared by everyone in the room.

Afterward, a brief silence enveloped the room as everyone contemplated their next steps. Their attention was abruptly diverted by the opening of the doors. In the doorway stood Light's Chosen, stepping inside with an unwavering and composed demeanor, undeterred by the gravity of the situation.

"It is time for our assault on Naxxramas to commence; a significant wave of undead is approaching our location," he announced before directing his attention to Krasus. "You'll need to lead a counterattack against them, as a substantial snowstorm is also incoming, which will hinder our ability to effectively respond."

Aware of the approaching undead and having drafted plans to confront them, the news of an impending snowstorm disrupted many of their strategies. Krasus, in particular, narrowed his eyes in concern. "This isn't a natural snowstorm, is it?" he questioned, suspecting something more ominous behind the sudden weather change.

Light's Chosen fixed his gaze on Krasus for a brief moment. "You are correct; it's being conjured by the Frost Wyrms, which are also being deployed for a simultaneous attack. At present, they are concealed high in the skies," he explained, confirming Krasus's suspicions about the unnatural storm and its origin.

"What?!" Uther exclaimed, mirroring the shock that resonated through their collective thoughts. "You should've alerted us earlier, lad!" Uther was poised to summon someone when Light's Chosen interjected, seemingly about to offer an explanation.

"Remain calm, Uther. I've been monitoring their movements," Light's Chosen reassured in a composed tone. "Initially, I perceived them as mere scouts. However, with the incoming undead, their true intent became evident," he calmly explained.

Krasus fell silent upon learning about the dragons now under the influence of undeath. A storm of anger and sorrow surged within him, yet he quelled those emotions, allowing determination to fill the void instead.

"Very well, we will make sure to take care of them and the other undead. Besides, we are a bit too large to assist inside Naxxramas itself, as our power is somewhat limited in our Visages."

Light's Chosen tilted his head while still looking at Krasus, prompting a raised eyebrow in question. "Is something the matter?" Krasus asked, feeling as if Light's Chosen desired to say something in response to his statement.

"While your point is generally valid, I would prefer your presence within Naxxramas. There's a particular matter that requires your personal attention before we conclude our mission in there," Light's Chosen asserted. As Krasus leaned forward to seek more information, Light's Chosen raised his hand, forestalling further inquiry. "Later. For now, let us concentrate on the task at hand within Naxxramas," he suggested, redirecting their focus to the immediate mission.

At that, a collective glance passed among everyone in the room, and a sense of disappointment settled in. "While we would certainly wish to strategize, our lack of knowledge regarding what lies inside is a significant obstacle," Bolvar finally articulated. This encounter marked Bolvar's first interaction with Light's Chosen, and he remained uncertain about his impressions of this enigmatic figure. Light's Chosen exuded undeniable power and a commanding presence, even during their initial meeting, leaving Bolvar with a mix of admiration and wariness.

Bolvar found himself taken aback by the unapproachable aura surrounding Light's Chosen. Although nothing physically obstructed anyone from approaching him, an inexplicable unease settled within Bolvar whenever he contemplated doing so. Moreover, the vigilant stance of the Lightforged Rangers, who closely monitored and swiftly reacted to any lingering gaze cast upon the Chosen, heightened Bolvar's discomfort. Their unwavering focus made him feel distinctly uneasy and self-conscious, reluctant to draw their unwarranted attention by getting too close to the enigmatic figure.

Furthermore, the concept of Lightforged Undead perplexed Bolvar beyond measure. It appeared not just unnatural but fundamentally contradictory—Undead beings infused with the Light. This paradoxical fusion, while accepted by the Light itself, stirred an uncomfortable disquiet within him. The very idea challenged his understanding of the natural order, leaving him deeply unsettled.

"Which is precisely why I am here," Light's Chosen announced before conjuring a radiant Light construct that took the form of Naxxramas, hovering above the table where they were assembled. "The primary detail you need to grasp is the extensive utilization of spatial manipulation magic within Naxxramas," he explained as the projection transformed, revealing the intricate layout of the Scourge stronghold.

Surprise flickered across their faces as they observed the colossal size of the structure, swiftly realizing it was divided into four distinct sections.

"As you've undoubtedly observed, there are four primary sectors within." Words materialized above each section: Construct Quarter, Arachnid Quarter, Plague Quarter, Military Quarter—clearly delineating the different segments of Naxxramas.

"As you can see, each of these quarters serves a specific purpose. Let's commence with the Construct Quarter. This area predominantly focuses on fleshcrafting, where Abominations and Flesh Giants are created. There are four main threats within this quarter," Light's Chosen elucidated. An image of Patchwerk emerged above the Construct Quarter, representing the most formidable abomination crafted by the Scourge.

"Patchwerk is the most potent among abominations, boasting remarkable physical strength and an astonishingly swift attack speed," he explained, the image shrinking to remain visible on the map. Another image surfaced, this time of Grobbulus, a towering flesh giant filled with toxic substances ready to expel upon his adversaries.

"Grobbulus is a formidable presence, unleashing poisonous assaults on its foes," he continued before revealing an image of Gluth, a plague-infested canine-like creature.

"While not particularly threatening beyond its obvious nature, Gluth can enrage itself to bolster its own strength," Light's Chosen remarked as Gluth's image reduced in size. Following this, a colossal giant appeared on the map.

"Arguably the most perilous foe in this quarter is Thaddius. A composite creation of human flesh and machinery, Thaddius wields lightning and manipulates positive and negative polarities to attract and repulse metal, such as armor and weaponry," he concluded the comprehensive explanation, allowing the gathered individuals to absorb the crucial information.

"Uther, I suggest you lead the strongest force to address this quarter, as it is the second most perilous area following the Military Quarter," Light's Chosen advised, breaking the brief silence that had settled among them and drawing their attention back to him.

Uther furrowed his brows thoughtfully. "If the Military Quarter is the most perilous, wouldn't it be prudent to deploy our strongest force there?"

"I will handle the Military Quarter," Light's Chosen declared firmly, catching Uther off guard momentarily before he nodded in comprehension and agreement.

Bolvar's uncertainty persisted. "Are you entirely certain that's the best course? Dividing our attack forces with the strongest individuals split between the two quarters might heighten the risk of failure," he remarked, considering it a fairly evident notion. "Wouldn't it be wiser to concentrate our efforts on either the Military or the Construct Quarters with the full strength of our attack group?" Bolvar believed his rationale was logical, although the expressions on the faces of the others left him feeling uncertain.

Krasus couldn't help but appear mildly amused by Bolvar's words, his expression carrying a sense of understanding rather than condescension, akin to a parent observing their child's curious musings. Meanwhile, Sylvanas raised an eyebrow in response to Bolvar's statement, displaying little emotion beyond that. Uther, on the other hand, maintained his focus on studying the map spread before him, seemingly lost in contemplation.

"You've misunderstood, Bolvar Fordragon. Only one individual will accompany me; the remainder will be divided among the other quadrants," Light's Chosen clarified in a straightforward manner. As this information was disclosed, the others exhibited a noticeable intrigue, curious about the identity of the person chosen to accompany Light's Chosen and the reasons behind it.

Bolvar was taken aback by this response, feeling a surge of anger within him. "Now hold on, this is no moment for reckless heroics. We can't afford to jeopardize our plan due to misplaced arrogance," he exclaimed, slamming his hand onto the table before him. Observing Bolvar's growing agitation, Uther let out a sigh and then reached out, placing a comforting hand on the man's shoulder to divert his attention.

"Bolvar, there's no trace of misplaced arrogance in his decision. He doesn't need our assistance; in fact, he could launch an assault on Naxxramas alone and emerge victorious. He doesn't rely on our aid; rather, we depend on his," Uther affirmed resolutely, his tone carrying a weighty seriousness that left no room for doubt.

Bolvar regarded Uther with surprise. Although he had heard such sentiments before, he hadn't placed much credence in them. To hear Uther himself express it so gravely, driving the point home, stirred a profound realization within him. However, another question lingered in his mind.

"Then… why are we even here? Why not simply obliterate the Scourge?" Bolvar directed the question to Light's Chosen, seeking clarification.

A heavy silence descended upon the command room. Krasus cast a disappointed glance at Bolvar, while Sylvanas briefly displayed a sneer. Uther shook his head with a sense of regret. Light's Chosen directed his gaze towards Bolvar, maintaining a silent and penetrating stare. After a brief pause, he spoke slowly, his voice tinged with a hint of condescension.

"Would you like me to wipe your ass for you as well?" he remarked dryly, his tone carrying an air of disdain.

Bolvar flushed with embarrassment and was poised to respond when Uther abruptly intervened.

"ENOUGH!" Uther's voice boomed as he slammed his fist on the table. "This is neither the time nor the place for such arguments. We have plenty to contend with without engaging in petty disputes like children," Uther asserted firmly. "Bolvar, this world belongs to us too, and we must exert every effort to safeguard it instead of depending solely on others to rescue us."

Bolvar suppressed his anger, displaying a demeanor of genuine contrition. As Uther redirected his attention to Light's Chosen, he let out a weary sigh, rubbing his forehead in exasperation.

"Could you not be so obstinate, lad?" Uther uttered wearily, expressing his fatigue with the situation.

"Very well, let us proceed. The Arachnid Quarter follows, primarily inhabited by Nerubians and Cultists," Light's Chosen pressed on, indicating the next quadrant on the map. Three distinct figures materialized atop the section.

"For the most part, confronting these three should not pose substantial difficulty. Nevertheless, prudent caution is advised. Anub'Rekhan, Grand Widow Faerlina, and Maexxna remain formidable members of the Scourge and warrant due regard," he emphasized regarding the powerful entities within this section.

Light's Chosen fixed his gaze on the composed Bolvar with an inscrutable expression. "You ought to handle this quarter," he declared in a resolute tone.

Bolvar narrowed his eyes slightly, repressing the words poised to be spoken. Instead, he chose to offer a curt nod in acknowledgment, refraining from any additional reply.

Light's Chosen redirected his attention to the map, emphasizing the Plague Quarter. "Following is the Plague Quarter, where the bulk of the efforts on enhancing the Plague of Undeath are underway. They are refining it, intensifying its potency. This area is saturated with the plague and poses one of the greatest hazards to any living beings who enter," he elucidated, turning towards Sylvanas, who acknowledged his explanation with a nod of comprehension.

Above the Plague Quarter, three distinct figures materialized. "Noth the Plaguebringer, Heigan the Unclean, and Loatheb. Of the trio, Loatheb presents the greatest danger, originally a Fungal creature prior to the Scourge's transformation. It has been saturated with the Plague of Undeath and can disperse spores containing the plague. Though it should not be effective against you, it is advisable to evade infection, likewise for any other forms of plague present in the quarter. Undoubtedly, they have enhanced it, so exercise caution," Light's Chosen cautioned about the potential threats within this section.

As Light's Chosen fell silent, affording the others a moment to mull over their designated tasks, Krasus opted to interject. "So, that leaves us with the Military Quarter and the presence of Kel'thuzad himself," he remarked, acknowledging the remaining objectives yet to be addressed.

Light's Chosen shifted his attention to Krasus, conveying a sense of exasperation through his demeanor. "Very well," he accentuated, highlighting the Military Quarter on the map. "This quadrant serves as the training ground for new Death Knights."

Seven distinct figures emerged on the display, startling everyone with the magnitude of threats concentrated in this single area. "Instructor Razuvious and Gothink the Harvester are insignificant pests and do not pose a significant threat," he remarked dismissively about two of the figures as they were minimized on the map.

Light's Chosen then drew attention to a cluster of four figures. "Lady Blaumeux," he announced, prompting Uther to widen his eyes in recognition of the name. However, further surprises awaited him. "Thane Korth'azz, Sir Zeliek," Light's Chosen continued, causing Uther to look down at the table in sorrow upon hearing the names of his old comrades who had been turned into instruments of the Scourge.

Light's Chosen remained silent, refraining from mentioning the name of the final individual, prompting the others to look at him with puzzled expressions. Even Uther lifted his head after a deep breath, preparing himself before inquiring, "Who is the last individual?" His tone carried a tinge of sadness.

"Alexandros Mograine, the Ashbringer," Light's Chosen uttered with a devoid of emotion in his voice, causing everyone, except Krasus, who lacked familiarity with Alexandros, to recoil in sheer horror at the revelation.

Uther bellowed in fury and delivered a forceful blow to the table, shattering it into pieces. He then turned his gaze downward, his fists tightly clenched in evident frustration. While Krasus felt a surge of curiosity about the identity of Alexandros and what could provoke such a visceral reaction from Uther, the situation hardly seemed appropriate for inquiry.

Light's Chosen shifted his attention towards Krasus. "Regarding the Lich Kel'thuzad, his sanctum can only be accessed once all the quarters have been cleared," he explained with a decisive tone.

---

The time for Naxxramas to fall has come. next few chapters will be about the assault on Naxxramas.

Let me know your thoughts below.

Cheers!

As always three more chapters are available on my Patreon​

 

[Fenrir112]

Good chapter!

 

[Kordelius]

The eagerly anticipated day had finally arrived – the day they would launch their assault on Naxxramas. Krasus and the other dragons had already departed, heading to confront the Frost Wyrms and the advancing Undead forces.

At present, their primary objective was to advance toward Naxxramas by dismantling the amassed undead forces gathered for its defense by Kel'Thuzad. Fortunately, most adversaries posed a challenge in quantity rather than quality. Hence, the selected group assigned to assault Naxxramas didn't have to exert their strength contending with formidable foes merely to breach its defenses.

Some might ponder the absence of adversaries outside, but the rationale behind it was rather apparent. Even Kel'Thuzad comprehended the futility of stalling their entry into Naxxramas. Hence, it was a strategic choice to retain their most formidable combatants inside, granting them the most advantageous position within the stronghold.

As they positioned themselves beneath Naxxramas, another obstacle surfaced: the fortress hovered above them. Complicating matters further, their dragon allies were engaged in other areas, and the available number of gryphons was insufficient to transport everyone.

Just as Uther was preparing to speak, Light's Chosen started ascending, a staircase forming beneath his feet. A small chuckle escaped him. "Well, that resolves that," he remarked before briskly following after Light's Chosen.

Upon reaching the summit and standing before the portals that served as entry points into the fortress, Light's Chosen directed his attention toward Uther. "Follow me after the count of ten," he instructed. With that, he stepped into the portal, leaving the rest waiting for Uther's signal to proceed and enter.

As Light's Chosen stepped into Naxxramas, a brilliant pulse of light surged from him, annihilating the horde of undead creatures crowding the portal. Swiftly, he sealed off access to the four quarters. When the ten seconds elapsed, Uther and the others moved to enter and were greeted by a scene of destruction - the undead that would have ambushed them lay decimated. Shields placed over the other entrances prevented the remaining undead from launching an attack.

Uther turned towards Light's Chosen, who nodded in response. "Separate into your groups and commence the assault," Light's Chosen commanded. He gestured towards each quadrant as Uther, Sylvanas, and Bolvar moved towards their respective targets. Then, Light's Chosen addressed someone, saying, "Come, Darion. Let us see if you are worthy."

A nondescript soldier started to approach Light's Chosen. Uther narrowed his eyes, feeling a sense of familiarity with the name, and suddenly realized that this was Darion, the son of Alexandros—a man turned into a weapon of the Scourge. Before Uther could say anything, both Darion and Light's Chosen walked past the shield that had sealed off the military quadrant.

As Darion followed behind Light's Chosen, he couldn't help but wonder what awaited him. As they approached, the death knights within the military quarter noticed them and charged. Light's Chosen turned to Darion, speaking with a commanding tone, "Prove yourself, Mograine." Darion had only a split moment to widen his eyes before the first death knight attacked him.

He swiftly raised his sword to parry a strike that would have cleaved him in half. As he pushed away from the death knight, another strike was aimed at him. He hastily jumped back to create distance between him and his adversaries. Unfortunately, his foes possessed magic abilities; shadow bolts struck him.

As he fell to the ground, he noticed that Light's Chosen was simply standing there, not taking any action nor being attacked. Light's Chosen turned towards Darion and uttered, "Disappointing."

Darion, feeling bewildered and not comprehending what was expected of him, realized there was no time for contemplation. The death knights were closing in on him, forcing him to scramble to his feet to defend against their assault.

In the fierce battle that followed, Darion had to employ every ounce of martial knowledge he possessed to ensure his survival. Fortunately, his enemies had grown overconfident, giving him openings to mount counterattacks.

As he deflected another strike aimed at taking off his head, an opportunity presented itself to do the same to his enemy. As the now headless Death Knight fell to the ground, the others resumed their attack.

As the battle dragged on, Darion learned more about his enemies' fighting styles. While he used this knowledge to take down more of them, another issue emerged: his enemies showed no signs of fatigue while he was growing tired. So, despite managing to stay one step ahead of his enemies and avoid any severe injuries, the longer the battle raged on, the higher the risk became of Darion sustaining an injury.

The battle proved unsustainable for Darion. Faced with an overwhelming number of enemies, he couldn't hold out alone. At a critical moment, he failed to parry an attack that grievously wounded him, slicing from shoulder to hip.

The pain was unbearable as Darion lay on the ground, witnessing the looming threat of the death knight's blade aimed at him. Regret flooded his senses, overwhelmed by the failure to achieve his ultimate goal in this desolate place – to rescue his father.

It was a moment of acceptance, Darion Mograine bracing for the inevitable. However, instead of the anticipated demise, light enveloped him, mending his injuries and eradicating his foes. Opening his eyes, he found Light's Chosen standing nearby, emanating an unmistakable sense of disappointment, the unspoken disapproval palpable in the air, leaving Darion with an acute sense of failure.

As the silence stretched between them, Light's Chosen exhaled before speaking. "Why do you hesitate, Darion Mograine? Do you truly fear these cursed wreches? Is this truly the extent of your resolve?" In the ensuing silence, Darion rose from the ground, his gaze falling disappointedly upon the floor.

"Lift your head, young Mograine. Disappointment will aid you naught in this cursed place; it will only drag you down and lead to your demise. Only resolve and belief in yourself can offer salvation." Light's Chosen stepped closer to Darion and rested his hand on Darion's shoulder, prompting him to raise his gaze.

"Your fear and hesitation are dulling your blade, Darion. A wise man once said, 'Abandon your fear. Look forward. Move forward and never stop. You'll age if you pull back. You'll die if you hesitate.'" Light's Chosen placed his hand on Darion's back and urged him forward to face the new enemies approaching them.

~~~~​

Uther gazed ahead, watching as young Darion and Light's Chosen ventured forward without acknowledging his call. His furrowed brow revealed a momentary pause, pondering the significance of their actions.

Turning swiftly, he faced his waiting group. Sylvanas and Bolvar had already ventured past, their determined figures fading into the grim landscape. Uther took in the scene, noting the anticipation and determination etched on his companions' faces.

With a reassuring smile, he rallied their spirits. "It seems we've lagged behind a tad. But we cannot afford to stay back, can we?!" His words carried a hint of jest, drawing a ripple of laughter that lightened the grim mood.

Grasping his mighty mace, Uther let the radiant energies of the Light surge within him. He charged forth, parting the veil of shadows to smash through the waiting undead, creating a path for his allies to follow.

Thrusting his weapon skyward, he bellowed, "FOR THE LIGHT!"

In response, his comrades echoed a resounding battle cry, their determination matching Uther's as they surged ahead. Undead adversaries fell before them, their combined strength a relentless force against the horde's defenses. Each strike was met with fervor, an unstoppable tide of courage and righteousness driving them forward.
Uther, revered paladin and beacon of the Light, was not prepared for the extent of horror he encountered within Naxxramas. The sight that unfolded before him surpassed the darkest reaches of his imagination. Bodies, mutilated and twisted in grotesque manners, adorned the eerie halls. Men, women, and even innocent children lay or hung in agonizing displays, their tortured forms serving as a grim testament to the cruelty of the Scourge.

Disgust and sorrow flooded Uther's heart, nearly choking him with their intensity. Yet, these emotions paled in comparison to the inferno of righteous anger that blazed within him. The injustice, the desecration of innocent lives, fueled an unquenchable fury that threatened to consume him.

Uther unleashed his power without restraint, his strikes swift and resolute, each blow a merciful end to another tormented soul. The aura of his righteous anger emanated from him, bolstering the resolve of his companions, empowering them with the strength to face the abominable terrors surrounding them. The Light, sensing Uther's anguish and his unwavering determination to end this nightmare, granted him a divine strength beyond anything he had ever known.

Amidst the chilling echoes that reverberated through the halls, a deep and disturbingly childlike voice disrupted the grim silence. "Patchwerk want to play." The ominous proclamation announced the arrival of an abomination, monstrous and towering, dwarfing any they had previously encountered. Uther's grip tightened on his mace, his jaw clenched with resolve. Their first formidable obstacle had emerged from the shadows.

As the colossal figure loomed closer, Uther's eyes fell upon the macabre composition of Patchwerk's form — an amalgamation of innocent parts, children's limbs, sewn together in a grotesque mockery of life. The paladin's righteous fury surged to a crescendo, an uncontrollable blend of rage and sorrow consuming him.

With an anguished roar that reverberated through the dreadful halls, Uther charged toward the abomination. Every fiber of his being was driven by a determination to end the madness, to deliver justice to those whose lives had been desecrated in the vilest of ways.
​

~~~~
​

Sylvanas, resolute and focused, wasted no time on unnecessary distractions as the Light's Chosen assigned them their respective quarters. Her thoughts were singularly fixed on the task at hand, a relentless determination guiding her every step. Another strike against the Scourge, another step closer to confronting Arthas.

Passing through the protective shield, Sylvanas faced the ominous sight of cauldrons brimming with the vile Plague of Undeath, oozelings, and an array of corrupted creatures that lurched toward her. A contemptuous sneer twisted her features as she assessed the oncoming threat.

With a swift, practiced motion, she gathered the radiant energies of the Light within her palm, compressing it into a concentrated sphere. Just before losing control, she unleashed the searing ball of Light upon her adversaries. Its impact was cataclysmic - a blinding explosion of radiant energy that engulfed the surrounding area.

In the wake of the blast, corrupted creatures and cauldrons alike disintegrated into nothingness, the plague reduced to naught but vapor. The wave of Light surged forward, the Lightforged undead following suit in their relentless charge.

Amidst the dissipating aftermath, Sylvanas remained composed, a sense of unwavering resolve infusing her every step. Here, in this stronghold of darkness, she vowed to strike a decisive blow. Just as she had in Azjol-Nerub, she was determined not to falter. With each stride forward, she reaffirmed her dedication to proving that the trust placed in her was not misplaced.

Sylvanas observed her forces with a stoic demeanor as they pressed forward unrelentingly. Every impediment in their path was swiftly dispatched, their movements seamless and efficient. Her rangers, adept in their craft, skillfully divided their focus between eliminating foes and obliterating any containers holding the Plague of Undeath they encountered.

There were no thunderous war cries or rallying shouts among her troops. Instead, the only audible sounds were the echoes of weapon clashes and the eerie symphony of death emanating from their enemies.

They were the embodiment of silent, deadly retribution. Each member of her force had resigned themselves to a grim destiny, accepting the fate that awaited them after their mission was completed. Yet, amidst their pursuit of vengeance, the prevention of another's fall into their harrowing existence remained a crucial secondary objective. Only they truly comprehended the depths of horror born from their own experiences.

Upon entering the expansive chamber, they beheld a scene unlike the previous quarters. Positioned on a lofty balcony stood a necromancer — Noth the Plaguebringer, if the Light's Chosen's words held true. Sylvanas narrowed her gaze at the figure, disdain etched into her features. Noth was a fool who had chosen the treacherous path for the lure of power. She disregarded his futile attempts at speech and reached for her bow, relishing the opportunity to demonstrate the grave folly of his choices.
​

~~~~
​

As Bolvar led his selected men through the protective shield enveloping the Arachnid Quarter, he instinctively tightened his grip on his weapon. Despite the absence of immediate adversaries, they remained on high alert, their collective focus honed to the environment around them. Each step forward was cautious, anticipating a potential ambush lurking in the shadows.

Scanning the vicinity with a vigilant gaze, Bolvar pondered whether their assigned quarter was due to doubts about their prowess or simply because of a lack of detailed knowledge regarding their strengths and capabilities. Such thoughts, however, were swiftly cast aside when enormous spiders abruptly burst from the ground, flinging several of his comrades through the air. Reacting swiftly, Bolvar rushed to confront the closest arachnid, interposing himself between the recovering soldiers and the looming threat.

With a forceful swing, he severed one of the spider's legs and thrust his weapon, finding purchase in its abdomen as it faltered. Yet, distractions were a luxury they couldn't afford. Peripheral movement caught his attention as he spotted more of the creatures descending from the ceiling.

"Above us!" Bolvar's voice resounded, commanding attention as he raised his shield defensively, signaling his men to follow suit. The group braced themselves, preparing for the impending aerial assault as they formed a protective barrier beneath the descending threats.

As Bolvar raised his shield defensively, his men quickly formed a protective circle, their weapons poised to strike at any descending threat. The air crackled with tension as the monstrous spiders swooped down with alarming speed, their hissing mandibles bared for a vicious assault.

With a swift and coordinated maneuver, Bolvar and his soldiers maneuvered to intercept the arachnids, their movements a symphony of defensive tactics. Swords clashed against chitin, axes swung to deter the spiders, and shields were used as barriers against venomous fangs.

The skirmish was a chaos of flying limbs and spitting venom, each soldier fighting ferociously to fend off the monstrous creatures. Bolvar himself stood resolute, deflecting the strikes aimed at him while dealing precise blows to incapacitate the spiders.

The scent of acrid venom hung thick in the air as the clash intensified. The soldiers grunted and shouted, each strike and parry accompanied by desperate calls for support and curses aimed at their eight-legged adversaries.

Despite their efforts, the arachnids were relentless. More of the monstrous spiders descended from the shadowed heights above, testing the mettle of the defenders. Bolvar's heart pounded in his chest, his focus unwavering as he assessed the situation, directing his men with concise commands.

The fight raged on, neither side yielding ground easily. The soldiers maintained their resolve, their determination to push back the looming threat evident in their unwavering stance. Every swing of a weapon, every blocked attack, was a testament to their unity and resilience in the face of the eerie and lethal adversaries.

Despite the challenge posed by the unexpected ambush, Bolvar's band of warriors stood firm, undeterred in their resolve to overcome the danger within the Arachnid Quarter.​

---

The assault on Naxxramas has begun.

Let me know your thoughts below.

Cheers!

As always three more chapters are available on my Patreon​

 

[LokKi]

Hmm, he will leave after defeat of the Lich King, isn't he? He is preparing the heroes to his departure, maybe the power of light came with the cost of his body that's slowly disappearing?