Summer was in full blaze, and the merciless sun beat down as he rode through the streets of Stormwind. The youth was in full plate armour, a ceremonial helm on his head. It was unbearably hot, but Samuel Lightrunner knew that he would have to endure this heat. He looked around. A small crowd had gathered and lined the streets to see this newest paladin be inaugurated. It was not as large as when his friend Prince Arthas Menethil of Lordaeron had been inaugurated a week ago, but it was still pretty large.
Samuel squared his shoulders, pushed his back in and sat upright in the saddle. He was atop his loyal charger, Sprinter. The Lightfused horse was three years old, and his coat was pure white, golden Light energies burning and emanating in and from his eyes, and at his feet. For this special occasion, his coat had been washed clean and the lightweight armour pieces carefully burnished. The onlookers murmured as the paladin rode by. Soon, they came to Cathedral of Light.
Samuel looked at the familiar flinty cobblestones leading up to the church. Everyday he would run here as part of his dawn exercise, attend the short morning prayer service, then run back home. His family stood near the entrance. Samuel gave them a flicker of a smile as he passed. His father, Caleb Lightrunner of the Silver Hand, his mother High Priestess Sarah Lightbinder, his younger brother Jacob and his twin sister Elisa. The youth felt a sense of peace and serenity as he slowly dismounted, let a groom take his horse and helm, and walked up the carpeted steps. The fragrant incense could be smelled now, and its scent was both calming and pacifying.
There was no giddy throng here, now. Only several rows of emissaries, paladins and clerics all seated in respectful silence. There were the flames of candles wavering in the air. Samuel inclined his head and noticed his two friends Varian Wrynn and Arthas Menethil. Both were tall and strong, promising warriors. They gave him reassuring grins and Samuel continued forward, his armoured boots clinking on the marble floor. Jaina Proudmoore, now not the giggly, cheerful little girl he had once known, but elegant, graceful and calm young sorceress. Genn Greymane, strong and stern, imposing in nature, but a kind smile on his face.
Archbishop Benedictus awaited him at the altar. Samuel approached him and knelt before him respectfully. The archbishop nodded before opening a large book and speaking.
"In the Light, we gather to empower our brother. In its grace, he will be made anew. In its power, he shall educate the masses. In its strength, he shall combat the shadow. And in its wisdom, he shall lead his brethren to the eternal rewards of paradise."
On his left, several men and women, Samuel knew they were clerics, stood still. Some held censors, others held large candles, and one held a large blue talbard. Samuel scanned their faces, recognising a few. They had been his mentors in the wielding of the Light ever since he had been twelve.
Archbishop Benedictus asked the clerics to bestow their blessings upon the youth. They did, the one who bore the blue talbard coming forward to drape it about the prince's neck and anointing his brow with holy oil.
"By the grace of the Light, may your brethren be healed," the cleric said.
Benedictus turned to the men on Samuel's right. "Knights of the Silver Hand, if you deem this man worthy, place your blessings upon him."
In contrast to the first group, these men, standing at attention in heavy, gleaming plate armor, were all known to Samuel. They were the original paladins of the Silver Hand, and it was the first time they had assembled since their induction many years past. Uther the Lightbringer, naturally stern and upright. Tirion Fordring, Samuel's personal mentor, aged but still powerful and imposing. The old and wise Saidan Dathrohan, his eyes misty and his face proud. The tall Gavinrad, proud and erect, like a great redwood tree. Alexandros Mograine, a stiff upper lip and large blue eyes. Tyrosus Maxwell was there too, a smile curving his lips. The only one missing from their company was Turalyon, lost in the Second War through the Dark Portal when Samuel was eight.
Tirion stepped forward, a hammer in hand. Its silver head was engraved with glowing blue runes, its long haft wrapped in dark blue leather. It looked massive, yet Samuel knew that it was light. Next was Uther himself, one of Caleb Lightrunner's closest friends. In his hands he carried a pair of ceremonial shoulder plates. Uther let a flicker of a smile flash across his lips before he carefully fastened the armoured pieces on Samuel's upper arms and shoulders. The pieces were massive, having a blue trim around gleaming gold armour, harder than tempered steel. Rumor had it that these plates were forged of elementium, the strongest material known to Azeroth. In the center, just on the edge of the shoulder section, was a shallow hollow.
"By the strength of the Light, may your enemies be undone." His hand lingered a moment on Samuel's shoulder, then he, too, retreated.
Archbishop Benedictus smiled at the youth kindly. Samuel met the gaze evenly, no emotion on his face.
"Arise and be recognized," Benedictus bade him. Samuel did so.
"Do you, Samuel Lightrunner, vow to uphold the honor and codes of the Order of the Silver Hand?"
"I do."
"Do you vow to walk in the grace of the Light and spread its wisdom to your fellow man?"
"I do."
"Do you vow to vanquish evil wherever it be found, and protect the innocent with your very life?"
"By my honor, I do."
Benedictus gave him a quick wink of reassurance, then turned to address both the clerics and the paladins. "Brothers and sisters—you who have gathered here to bear witness—raise your hands and let the Light illuminate this man."
The clerics and paladins all lifted right hands, which were now illuminated by a soft, golden glow. They pointed at Samuel, directing the radiance toward him. The youth's eyes were wide with wonder, and he waited for the glorious glow to envelop him.
The sunlight streaming in through windows in the ceiling slowly began to move toward the young man standing alone in shining armor. Now it shone down on him. It warmed at first, then seared, and he winced slightly. He felt—scoured. Emptied, scrubbed clean, then filled again, and he felt the Light swell inside him and then fade away to a tolerable level. He blinked and reached for the hammer, the symbol of the order. As his hand closed about the haft, he looked up at Archbishop Benedictus, whose benign smile widened, both in satisfaction and surprise. Samuel glanced at his shoulder plates and his mouth nearly fell open in surprise. Where the hollows had been, they now burned with an eternal Light flame. It looked as if there were golden fires burning in the hollows. Benedictus blinked. This had not been anticipated as part of the ceremony. "A symbol of greatness and power. Samuel Lightrunner, I have faith that you will go far as a paladin.
Arise, Samuel Lightrunner, paladin defender of Stormwind. Welcome to the Order of the Silver Hand."
Samuel lifted the hammer, and could not resist raising it into the air and giving a great shout of triumph. The audience broke out in applause, and Samuel smiled. He was now a paladin. As he made his way out of the Cathedral, flanked first by Arthas and Varian, and his family close behind, Samuel was greeted by Tirion. "Well done, Samuel. Welcome to the paladin family, brother."
That night, Samuel sat with Elisa in their room. Caleb was out on an errand in Lordaeron, Sarah coaching some priests and priestesses, and Jacob was already asleep. Both siblings knelt and turned to the Light in prayer. "Light, show me a vision of what will happen." Samuel prayed. Suddenly, a voice spoke out through the entirety of Samuel's being. "Samuel Lightrunner, it is I, Xe'ra, an entity of the Light. I will show you what is to come. Open your eyes, child." Samuel did so, and gasped as his mind was suddenly filled with overwhelming images.
First, it was of Arthas. But it was not a good image. It showed Arthas, deep inside an icy cavern, a sinister, ominous runeblade before him. With his friend was a dwarf. Oh, it was the explorer Muradin Bronzebeard! Then, Arthas grasped the sword, and icy shards flew out in every direction as the sword's icy base shattered. Muradin was hit in the stomach with a shard, and he seemed to die as Arthas tried to heal him. Arthas, his face had changed! His face seemed to be taking on a deathly pale pallor. He grimly stepped out of the cavern and the vision ended. Samuel shook his head. What had he just seen? And what had Arthas just done?
Next was Arthas, again! The man that Samuel had once called friend fought in fury against a night elf that looked more like a despicable Dreadlord! Horns, claws, wings and hooves. Two green eyes blazed as the two fought. The elf seemed to be winning as he wreathed Arthas in blazing green fire, then by some damned miracle, Arthas slashed blindly, and abruptly the elf fell as his chest was cut open by the sword. As the elf lay bleeding and helpless, Arthas stood up, and made his way up an icy glacier in the direction of what seemed to be a throne encased in ice.
The vision ended, and another took its place. This time, it seemed to be the same night elf again, fighting against a band of adventurers. He slashed and roared, but at last the adventurers managed to overcome him and wound him. Samuel could not see what happened next as the vision was clouded with mists. The vision ended, and now Samuel could see what he recognised as the high elf Sunwell. What looked to be a high elf leader motioned over it, and a monstrous claw reared up from the well. The elf spoke. "Great Kil'jaeden! Come forth now!" The vision ended.
The next vision was even more strange. A tall imposing figure clad in silver armour inlaid with skulls raised a whispering runeblade. It was Arthas! The monstrous figure slammed the blade into an icy plain, and a bone dragon lurched out of the ice. It was terrifying. Arthas, no, what he had become, stood motionless as the dragon flew across an icy valley, awakening an army of Scourge. Then, the vision switched abruptly and it showed the thing Arthas had become fighting against a large group of adventurers. At their head…it was Tirion! Tirion Fordring, old but still strong, clad in ceremonial armour and wielding a mighty sword with a circular jewel set near its flat tip.
Next, a mighty black dragon armoured in elementium burst out from the mountains and flew across Azeroth, spreading fire and destruction wherever he flew. Then, a huge fire elemental rose from the sea, before him standing a lone orc dressed as a shaman. The fire elemental seemed to trap the orc in a hollow fire pillar, and show to him a vision. Suddenly, Samuel found himself looking out through the orc's eyes. The fire elemental's voice was like thunder. "The end comes, son of Durotan! The final hour of Twilight! And there is nothing you can do…to stop it. Hahaha!" The orc screamed in terror, and so did Samuel, as a huge tidal wave of fire engulfed a mighty Horde fortress and sped towards him.
With a cry, Samuel awoke from his vision and found that he was curled up into a ball on the floor, weeping. What had he just seen? Then, another voice, sweet, familiar and kind. "Samuel, Samuel!" Elisa pulled him off the floor and bundled her twin in her arms, soothing him. Samuel gripped his sister tightly. "I…I saw what would come…it…Elisa…it…it was terrifying!" Elisa looked into his eyes. "What happened, brother dear?" Samuel took a moment to calm down, and related his story to her. Elisa held him through the entire story, and eventually, she managed to tell Samuel that he had remarkable foresight. "It…it was not me…it was the Light! It showed me what would come." Samuel explained, now feeling much better. He carefully wriggled out of his sister's embrace and held her wrists. "Anyway, I'll just keep this in mind, then. It's late, I think I'll go to sleep." Samuel said as he released Elisa's hands and kissed her on the brow. "Sleep well, dear sister." He said as he retired to his bed. Elisa rose from the floor. She looked at her twin, already dozing.
"You too, dear brother."