This is an idea that came to me while in a pensive mood. What, I wondered, would happen to all the death knights if there were no more wars. This short story is one possible outcome for Gillaen. It may or may not come to pass when I eventually reach the end of the Bearheart Chronicles. I should warn you, it is sad, I cried while writing it, but it had to be done. There is some precedent in game content for the choice I made, the story of Crusader Bridenbrad in Icecrown.

The End?

The death knights regiments were the last to return to Stormwind. We arrived directly in the Old Town garrison by mage portal and were told to settle into our barracks and to keep to ourselves. Not for us the parades and feasts that most of the other returning troops received. Fair enough we wouldn't have appreciated the feast that much, but a little recogntion for what we'd done would have been nice.

Thinking on it, I don't believe they really knew what to do with us. We'd been created by the Lich King as an army of cold-blooded killers to fight against the Silver Hand and the Scarlet Crusade, until we'd been freed from his control. But even then we weren't truly free. The hunger inflicted on us to keep us obedient had made sure of that. We could never be anything other than what we were.

For more decades than I could remember we had fought, without rest or respite, against Arthas and his Scourge, against the endless waves of demons that threatened to invade our world and the remains of shattered Outland. But now? Now the fighting was over. The Burning Legion was beaten, its leaders dead or imprisoned, its portals to our world destroyed. What few scourge or demons remained were no threat to the combined armies of Azeroth. There was no more enmity between Alliance and Horde. The two factions had learned to fight together against the common foe, and, in doing so had learned that they could also live together.

But me, I was all alone, I'd outlived most of my family. My parents, Arrentai, Lizabetha, Hestia and her husband Jothan, so many of my friends; they'd succumbed to the passage of time. Their children had moved on with their lives and scarcely remembered me. Even my beloved Nerissina had died, cut down by a demon in the last battle. We'd been together, fighting side by side, friends and lovers, for so long that I couldn't imagine the future without her. I didn't want to.

All I could see for myself, for the other death knights who'd survived, was an endless future playing out pointless wargames or giving in to the madness that would be inevitable if we ignored the hunger. The only end would be to choose death at our own or another's hand. I admit it seemed more inviting than the loneliness I faced. But even now my faith in the Light was strong and to seek death in that way was a sin, against all I believed.

Rather than face the equally gloomy faces of my fellows, I left the barracks and headed out into the city. For hours I wandered, revisiting the places I'd known, places I shared with my loved ones. Needing no rest, no sustenance,I was unaware of the passage of time. Everywhere I could see the damage caused by the war, the people already starting to repair it. Stormwind would survive, the indomitable spirit of its people would allow nothing less.

Eventually I found myself in Cathedral square. The statue in the fountain was somewhat battered but otherwise there was little damage here at the heart of the city. Almost without thinking I turned my steps to the cathedral itself. I'd always found peace there and now I hoped I'd find answers. The sound of singing reached me, a service was in progress, but it wouldn't deter me. I'd long since given up worrying what other people thought, I had as much right as anyone else to be there.

I entered quietly and sat in an empty seat at the back. I took no active part in the service, instead I closed my eyes, bowed my head, and just listened to the music, the singing, the prayers. It washed over me, soothing, calming, giving me a peace I'd not known for so long. Even the hunger, the almost constant pain from imperfectly healed injuries, seemed less overwhelming here. Maybe I should just stay here in the cathedral. I smiled, amused, as I pictured the reactions of the priests and other clerics if I suggested such a thing.

Eventually the service came to an end and people began to file out. I watched them quietly, most ignored me, choosing not to acknowledge that even the damned could find peace here. One or two muttered thinly veiled threats which i paid no heed to.

When they'd gone and the place was empty but for the clerics and those seeking help or training, then I moved from my seat. Standing slowly, I took a moment to ease my stiffened muscles, then I walked forward as I'd done so often before. I stopped a few feet before the base of the steps that led up to the altar. I never went further; with the darkness in my soul it didn't feel right. For once there was no one near the altar as I knelt on the hard cold stone, laying my sword on the ground before me.

I don't know how long I remained there, lost in my thoughts, pouring out my feelings, my need, my desperation in my prayers. But eventually the soft sound of a footfall behind me roused me from my thoughts. I looked round. A woman in the white robes of a priest stood there, her hood pulled forward so that all I could see was the lower half of her face.

"Can I do anything to help you?" she asked softly, smiling.

"I doubt it," I replied quietly, "but thank you for asking."

"Why don't you tell me what's troubling you," she suggested, her voice gently persuasive. And I did. I told her everything, all I had done, no matter how bad it was I confessed it. I spoke of the people I had loved and lost, and my fears for the future. I told her things I'd never spoken of before. I kept nothing back.

She listened in silence until I'd finished, then looked at me expectantly.

"There must have been some good in your life, some good that you have done."

"I did my duty."

"You did so much more if you could only realise it. Yes, you lost your way for a while, but for most of your life you've cared for and protected the people who were important to you, your home, your world. You gave up your chance for love for your brother; you gave your life to protect your people from the Scourge; you fought all your life to protect this world. You have no reason to feel guilt any more. Believe me, I know. I've been watching you for a long time. Now it's time for you to stop fighting, to be at peace."

"I wish I could. I'm so tired of fighting. But I have no choice, if I don't fight I'll lose myself to the madness of the hunger."

I turned away from her, bowing my head again. I felt so tired, all I wanted to do was sleep, lose myself in my memories. But I couldn't; sleep eluded me and in the dark hours of the night my torment was at its worst.

"Gillaen!"

I ignored her, struggling to control my emotions.

"You've earned your rest, paladin. It's time to lay down your sword and accept the Light."

Now I looked up at her through the tears that I couldn't stop.

She smiled and held out a hand to me. I struggled to my feet, using my sword to support me. The last wound I'd suffered had damaged the muscles of my leg, leaving it weak and it wouldn't always hold my weight. She turned and walked up the steps to the altar pushing the hood of her robe from her head and letting her golden hair spill down her back.

I was dazzled by the light that flooded the cathedral, the sun through the wide windows I thought, before realising that it was too late in the day for the sun to be shining from that direction. It grew brighter, until I was almost blinded. I stumbled on the first step and almost fell before I felt strong hands supporting me.

"The choice is yours, Gillaen. Go on as you are, or accept the peace that the Light offers you."

"I want peace,"I whispered. "I want to be free of pain and hunger. But most of all I want to be with those I love."

"Then take it."

I reached the top of the steps and bent on one knee to lay my sword in front of the altar. For a moment I gazed at it in sadness. The runes that I had always kept clear and fresh were now faded, broken, lacking their usual power. It wasn't so easy to runeforge our weapons now. The demons of the Burning Legion had somehow found out that was what made our weapons so powerful and had mounted a raid on the Ebon Hold and destroyed all but one of our forges. Gradually we were rebuilding them, but it took time; there were few left now who had the skill necessary.

"I accept," I whispered. "I accept all the Light has to offer me."

I stood again, and turned. The young woman was gone; in her place was a creature of pure Light and energy, a Naaru.

"Take the first step," it said. "It's all you need to do."

Once I'd made my decision it was easy. Leaving my sword where it lay, I walked back down the steps and into the Light that filled the silence of the cathedral. Slowly I became aware of figures coming toward me. Leading them was Nerissina, my beloved Nerissina, her red hair loose about her shoulders, her slender figure clad in the blue silk gown that I remembered from so long ago. Smiling, she came to my arms and I bent my head to kiss her. She felt surprisingly solid for a figment of my imagination.

"Welcome, my love," she said gently. "We've waited so long for you to join us."

I raised my head and looked past her to her companions, my tears blurring my vision. Arrentai, my little brother, as he was in his younger days, tall, strong, his red-gold hair in its usual braids, Lizabetha, his wife, smiling in his arms, Hestia, Jothan, my parents, so many others that I remembered from my long life. I looked back at the Naaru.

"This is your reward, Gillaen. You are reunited with your loved ones in the peace of the Light. Be happy, Paladin."

I nodded in thanks, then turned back to my loved ones and walked with them into the Light.

(From the journal of Taliesa Bearheart, priestess of the Light)

Today we celebrated our final victory over the Burning Legion. It seems we have been at war for most of my life and I'm an old woman now. I pray I may live what's left of my life in peace.

The body of Gillaen Bearheart was found this evening in the cathedral on the chancel steps, his sword laid as an offering at the foot of the altar. I find I can't be sad for him. My uncle lived a long and often savage life, yet at the end he was smiling, at peace. I believe he is now reunited with the rest of our family.

May the Light protect us all.