His past actions had brought this upon himself, but he was so wracked with grief that he knew no other option. He had lost control of his scourge magic and had attacked a young woman. His love no longer trusted him for it, and she had left him. She began to believe that all humans were horrible creatures. Halent felt he was entirely to blame, and there was no other option than to rule himself out in the worst way possible Become the enemy. Maybe then he wouldn t care anymore; maybe then he would be free of this anguish, this sorrow. Hardly any of it mattered anymore, he was here now. He could not back down.
He felt it quickly, an oozing darkness that slowly corrupts the mind. It spoke to him briefly. "You are here to challenge me?" The voice was in his head, but he heard it clear as day. It was dark, decrepit, and inviting. He had never heard such soothing, tender words echoed before in such darkness. "Nay, Arthas... I give in. I don't want to be human anymore. Take me in and null this pain, make me one of your Scourge." Halent looked down in shame. "The humans have never done anything for you regardless. They do nothing but take. Here, you shall gain power, Halent! Here, you will be a Lord! Come to me, Halent, and forever be known as Halent the Hallowed."
Halent felt the inky blackness pushing away at his sight until he could see no more. Clouding his mind until he could think no more. A swirling mass of blackness surrounded his power as he was filled with it. The power surged, transforming his very armor. It was sinister now, and resembled blood, his shoulder-guards spined and his chest-plate had the decoration of a skull on it. His gray hair settled as he landed, the darkness had lifted him. His eyes opened, and they were a sinister red, glowing hotter than any sun. He turned, watching the soldiers. The voice came back to his head, sweeter than honey, and flowed like the purest of water-ways in his head. Show me you plan to stay, Halent. Build yourself a phylactery. Halent responded to the voice, Give me but a moment.
A Duke of the Ebon Blade strolled in front of them "Blightmaster Halent Garnesh! Do you realize what you've done?!" He looked over to them, but did not say a word. "You know the penalty for this treason is death!" Halent now spoke, his words broken, spaced out like he was a psychopath. "Then give me but a moment to prepare, Duke " He held his arms out, and knelt down a little, building dark energy. It swirled around him, and then into the walls, covered by skeletons.
Ghouls and small skeletal minions poured from the walls of Icecrown, and jumped onto Halent, powering his body and building it up. His body rose once more, but this time it was twenty feet taller, and massively more horrific to look upon. The body was huge, and built of the flesh and bone of that which had piled upon the Hallowed soul. It held a large axe of bone, and looked down upon the Duke s army. If you aim to kill me then do it! Rid me of my sorrow! The Duke hesitated for a second, taking a step back. Charge! He ordered, the men running in.
Paladins of the Covenant, Death Knights of the Ebon Blade, and soldiers of the Alliance and Horde ran at him. All of them failed, the large axe meeting them in two. After so many deaths, the Duke ordered a retreat, and they men turned tail and ran. The bodies were left there as a guard as Halent descended from their mass. He resurrected the bodies of the fallen to serve as guards to the Citadel as well, giving the forces before him another obstacle.
He pulled out a golden key. The key Halent used to open the Stratholme cathedral doors so many years ago. So many memories locked away into this one key Looking about it, he decided that this was his soul bound keepsake, the item he treasured most. He sealed his soul into it, becoming fully Hallowed. It is done, my liege I serve only you now.