Memory is a curious thing. It is the defining material of a person's being, but I would rather forget. Forget it all if I could. I am what I am now, not what I was years ago. However, nothing can make me forget my past.

The day was chilly, and cold wind rushed against her face. It was early in the morning, the first rays of sunlight appearing over the horizon. Hundreds of blood knights just like her stood in the way of the advancing scourge horde. Advancing toward Silvermoon. Unrelenting. Unthinking.

An elven horn sounded, then another, and another. The commanders were signalling a charge. A first strike to clear this land of the infestation at their front doors. She gripped her sword tighter and waited for the command to move.

A final horn sounded, louder than the rest, giving the final command.

The knights charged, polished white armour gleaming in the early light, the ground shaking from their combined footfalls. The undead were close now, only a few hundred feet.

Impact. The gleaming wave of light tore through the front lines of hapless corpses reanimated as simple tools of war. A meat shield to slow their advance. Nonetheless, some fell. Needless deaths. The line started to thin and the knights pushed through.

A sudden charge from the enemy broke her out of her thoughts. The scourge had finally made a move. Hordes of warriors, former members of the horde and alliance risen and converted to the Lich King's cause. Death knights. Black saronite armour, titansteel runeblades etched with runes and screams of tortured souls. A deadly force.

The shambling dead that formed the front line were almost gone and the fight turned to the death knights. Sounds of fierce battle filled the air, yells of fury, screams of pain.

A death knight charged her, a long sweeping strike flying over her head as she ducked. A bold move that would cost him dearly. She thrust the sword into his abdomen and twisted. The runeblade dropped from his hand and he gripped the blade protruding from his stomach. A look of surprise, pain, and fear crossed his face, the last traces of twisted life and humanity leaving him forever. She pulled out the sword and he dropped, dead. She moved forward; sidestep, cleave, turn around, thrust, spin, somersault, thrust.

She looked right, then left. Ara, her best friend, her sister in arms, stood there. She dispatched a death knight, and then another. Ara looked straight at her. She was saying something but the words were lost in the sound of battle. She had to get closer.

Something struck Ara and she wheeled about. When she turned, there was a black arrow protruding from her left shoulder. Then another hit her thigh. She turned and tried to run toward her friend. In the confusion, a dark figure moved up behind Ara. A blade exploded from her chest in a small burst of blood as it punctured major blood vessels.

The air stood still, time slowed to a crawl. The death knight behind Ara thrust the blade deeper, revelling in the blood knight's agony. He pulled the runeblade out of his enemy and raised it above his head for a finishing blow. Ara dropped to her knees, looking at the blood on her gauntleted hands.

In a few quick strides she was on top of him, just as he was about to bring the sword down on Ara. He initiated the long swing, but didn't finish, her blade stopping his. A surprised look crossed his face, and it soon turned to one of anger. He twisted his blade out of the lock and swung at the blood knight foolish enough to try and stop him. She blocked hit after hit, and on the fourth swing sidestepped and sunk her blade into the side of the death knight's chest, through the small unprotected crevice in his armour. She then pulled the blade out and brought it down on the back of his neck. The black armoured body dropped to the ground, the severed head rolling down the small incline.

She ran to Ara, her white gleaming armour now a shiny red from the blood flowing from the wound in her chest. Holding her best friend in her arms, she looked deep into Ara's eyes, watching her slowly fade out of this world and into the next. Ara raised her arm to her friend's shoulder, and then her hand dropped and her head lay loosely in her friend's arms. She was gone. Tears fell onto the bloodied armour, washing away the blood. The sound of battle was a faint noise in the background. IT was all but forgotten. A yell snapped her out of her grief.

"Fall back! Fall back!"

The commanders were retreating. She didn't see from what, until it was upon her. The sky filled with thousands of saronite arrows, their black razorheads sharp and deadly. There was nothing she could do. There were too many, and she was too slow. She felt a several arrows hit her, and she fell over, unable to move. The light was fading, and she felt herself slipping away. A darkness enveloped her.