Summary: It is said that the Scourge has the intention to take over the world of Azeroth. What shall happen, if the most powerful, and also, the creators of Azeroth shall return? What shall happen, if the Burning Legion rises from dusk with the lead of Sargeras?
Disclaimer: Warcraft belongs to the Blizzard Entertainment; otherwise I would be billionaire by now.
A/N: The story will definitely not be very happy, plus the main characters of the story shall be put into heinous scourges (It doesn't mean I don't like them *hell, I love them!*). The story is just a theory, and the result will be deadly unchangeable IF my theory is true. So don't like, don't read.
CHAPTER ONE: Omens
"What do you want, stranger?"
"A journey. Only a journey. To learn more. And kill more."
Kel'Thuzad sneered at the memory. Not quite a pleasant one, though. Being beaten without having a chance to fight back! Dishonored and shameful! The Lich shook his bony head, as ice blades suddenly grew brutally freezing around him. But that did not bother him much. At least it was not as bothersome as reporting the result to his mighty king…
Shivered at the thought, Kel'Thuzad strolled down his lair in Strathholme, his black and dark purple cloak floated behind, as the chains on him stroke the marble floor with sharp noises.
The smirk grew wider on the dark-covered face. Moving swiftly in darkness, like they was a part of it, the stranger seemed to play with him with a very disrespectful manner. Every time the stranger moved, the Lich felt like a wave of surprising powerful energy hit him. The black cloak fluttered like long silky black wings. Even the greatest assassin could never dream to have this grace and agility.
-My king, I, Kel'Thuzad of Lordaeron, wish to speak to you.
Bowed before the mirror, the greatest Lich waited. Waited for his King's response.
-What is it now?
A cold, majestic, yet so young voice resounded. Bowed even lower did Kel'Thuzad speak:
-King Arthas, I wish to inform you about a…certain threat…
-What is that do you mean?
The veil created by the black cloak covered Kel'Thuzad completely, drowned him into darkness.
For the very first time in his long life-time, the Lich had ever feared of the dark.
Thousands of screams.
Mourns and cries.
And that laughter…
Echoing like it was from the bottom of eternal darkness, an insane, yet so pure laughter grabbed him, smashed his frost mind into thousands of pieces.
-Your Highness…
Silence. It seemed like the king had been thinking thoroughly about what he had heard. Everything about Kel'Thuzad's story.
But that stranger did not seem to be a threat.
Except that terrifying power…
_____________________________________________________________________________________
-ARGH!!!
-Furion??
Asked Tyrande Whisperwind with a very worried tone. It was not normal. It was not normal to see her beloved, Malfurion Stormrage to collapsed and cried in pain like this. Holding tightly into his hands with her more slender ones, she eyed him questioning.
Ever since leaving the Emerald Realm, after fulfilling his deal with Ysera, Malfurion had been quite insecure. But never like this.
-The…spirits…They wanted to…warn us…about…new threat to the world!
-What?
-Darkness…Shadows…Chaos…Death! In the form of an unexpected…
With that, Shan'do Furion collapsed, as his beloved desperately called out his name beside him.
___________________________________________________________________________________
The children laughed cheerfully and innocently on the street of Theramore. Running and chasing each other in mere bliss, despite of the cruel reality. The war had spread so widely, none of the remaining could claim that they had no loss. Even the leader of them…
Jaina Proudmoore looking through the window of her tower, her eyes lingered at the peaceful children. How did she wish to be like one of them, to not worry and to not bear that loss!
All of her closest and most beloved people, one by one, had left her. Her beloved leader and master, Antonidas, her trusted friend and an uncle-figure, Uther, her very own father, Daelin Proudmoore. And him...Someone, whose name had become a curse for the entire human race to bear. Someone, who had killed his own father by his very own hand. Someone, who had been the largest threat of all beings in Azeroth.
Arthas.
HE betrayed them all, HE betrayed his own people, HE betrayed everyone. Included her…
Jaina shook her head furiously. She could not let her mind wander at such things! It was not the time for that! It was never worth…
-AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!
A sudden scream interrupted her thoughts. Startled, Jaina dashed to the nearest window she could reach, seeking for the cause of that alerting noise. And she was terrified with what she saw.
A giant twin-headed ogre was in front of those children, who were playing on the road before. The brutal monster roared angrily, probably because of being awaken from its heavy sleep. Jaina desperately search for help, she could not attack the monster in this range! But there was no one there. All the guards were probably at the other side of the castle. Cursing under her breath, Jaina reached for her staff. Down there, the ogre had already raised its huge cudgel, prepared to slam it on the frightened children. Jaina let out a horrified and disappointed scream, as she knew it was too late.
The children held tightly onto each other, let out a chorus of muffled screams as they saw what was coming.
The dumb brutal creature roared in victory, slammed its ludicrous weapon at the children.
Slash! Slash! Slash!
Three swift flashes of blue iron, and the head, arm and body of the ogre fell down lifelessly in front of the horrified children. Jaina blinked in mere shook.
Standing there, at the place that had been occupied before by the brutal creature, was someone in a black cloak which covered most of his/her face. A sapphire blade was still visible, where the blood of the ogre was slowly dripping down. The children stared at the said person, shock written all over their faces. Just as like Jaina's.
With no word being spoken, the person turned around in a quick movement, jumped into the forest. After shooting Jaina an ice cold glance. The archmage gulped. It was so far away, but her keen eyes could still see that. A flash of sapphire, shone in the late rays of sunset, like being covered with pure blood.
The castle's guards ran toward the tower of Jaina, yelling furious curses as they saw the body of the ogre.
But Jaina knew.
They were too late.
__________________________________________________________________________________
Thrall darted his keen eyes beyond the horizon, brows furrowed at what he saw. The young war chief of the honorable Horde, who was also a Far Seer, knew something was going to happen. And it was not a good thing.
"The storm is coming, once again…"
Thought the meditative war chief, as he gazed at the bloody marks of the dying sun, upon the harsh land of Durotar. The untamed land was now being tamed by his people, step by step. Yet Thrall had never felt so secure about their temporally situation, the temporally peace. Between the Night Elf and the Human, Thrall knew, as long as this war continue, peace may remain upon his people. But once, when it came to an end, those races may invade their land, to wipe them out of their second home, which Durotat was called now. However, Thrall must still trust the goodwill of Malfurion Stormrage, and the deal of Jaina Proudmoore, hoping that they shall not break their peace treaty. Like Daelin Proudmoore had done, for once.
The young war chief sighed. Their kind, the orcs, despite of the honorable and resplendent history, was still being considered barbarians to the superciliously night elves, and enemies to the conservative humans. And always being threatened by the remains of the Burning Legion. Thrall did not know when his kind would ever possibly live in peace. Or they would always live in tension, in fear that their temporally balance could be broken anytime by the other races.
Just like now.
Time had passed so fast. Thrall was no longer a lone traveler, who ran across the land to find his homeland, a new homeland for his people. The young Far Seer was now shouldering the weight of his people's destiny, to responsible for them, to die for them, to protect them. That was why he had to watch how the world was moving, to prevent anything bad that could happen to his people.
Like such omens…
Yet Thrall was not superstitious. He believed what he saw, not what he felt.
So why did he felt so in secure about the bleeding sun?
There was no answer beyond the horizon.
__________________________________________________________________________________
The raven perched onto the firm rock, watching the dark figure in front of it with intelligent eyes. A harsh voice sniggered:
-Cut it out, Medivh…I know it is you…
A burst of darkness and wind, and then, there he was, the Prophet and also, the Last Guardian of Tirisfal, Medivh. Staring at the dark figure through the shade of his hood, the Guardian spoke with a very deep voice:
-It has been a while…You do not seem to be affected by time…
Another chilling snigger was heard. But this time, more sarcastic. The tall, slim figure which is covered in the black cloak leaned onto a tree; spoke with a calm yet overwhelming voice:
-But you are…Remind me, how long have we last seen each other? Probably a few hundreds of years ago…No, even more than that…I somehow recall you…much younger than now…
-Speak straight! Don't you say your return is just to "recall" old past!
Sneered Medivh, but apparently, he had lost his temper. The figure snickered again, shifted the weight of their body to the other leg. Far far away, the sun was setting, leaving blood red marks on the plain. Grass ruffled in the young night's chilling wind, as the hoots of owls echoed thorough the dwarfed forest. The night had come, covered everything in its long black cloak, so fast that no one could have ever realized when it came. But the two old ones were still there, silently studying each other with keen eyes. One with suppressed rage and fear. One with interest and boredom at the same time.
-What brought you here? Again?
-Aaahh~~…Do not tell me that you did not sense my return before I was actually here…
-I did…But…
-You did not want to believe? Or you did not want to face it? Both questions are just the same, but the answers may lead to different conclusions…
-What is it do you want?!
Snapped the old Guardian. The power upon his voice resounded into the wild plain, making everything drowned into dead silence. But nothing changed from the strange person, if they could be called an actual "person". Still leaning comfortable onto the dead tree, with interested sapphire eyes hooked at the figure of Medivh. Then, those beautiful pale lips finally spread into an insane smile, spoke with a pure and beautiful voice, yet so majestic and…insane:
-Destruction of Azeroth, as our last contract.