Screams.

Begs.

Metal slicing through flesh.

An unnatural cold in the air.

There was no escaping.

Arthas' vision was nothing but a blur of white, blue and red. He could hear nothing but a howling wind in his ears and drowned screams. His movements were automatic, almost mechanical as he moved. There was no control, no mercy. He could feel himself gripping something in his hands, slicing it through the air, and a sizzle following its movement. It was strange. Familiar, but strange. He felt glee, although he was not sure of what he was doing.

Something warm hit his cheek. It felt like water, but it was thicker. It took no longer than a second for the warmth it brought his face to disappear, as if it had never existed.

A short laugh escaped his throat. He didn't know why, and at the moment, he didn't care. He felt a sense of accomplishment, almost happiness in what he was doing, although he was still unsure of what that exactly was. Without resisting, he let the movements continue, the item still in hand. Occasionally it felt as if he hit something with the item, but it was barely noticeable. Every time it felt as if he hit something, he just swung the item harder, feeling a certain glee every time it made contact.

His eyes fell upon a sudden bright light appearing before him, it making the white, red and blue disappear if for but a moment. Suddenly the light went through Arthas' body, a burning sensation following almost like electricity as it went through every corner of his being, replacing Arthas' glee with anger.

Changing movements, Arthas almost leaped in the light's direction and thrust the item in his hands into its source, the light going out like a candle and being replaced by a cold blue and white. It made him smile.

"A-ah won't let you hurt us, ya hear!"

The voice was familiar to Arthas' ears and it stopped him from doing his strange movements. His vision was still blurry, but he was starting to make out shapes. He could see brown wooden panels, broken tables and many various colored shapes laying on the floor, a deep red puddle accompanying most of them.

"Nysotin, get out of 'ere while ya still can!"

Another familiarity. A name. But it didn't matter. He began walking in a slow but decisive manner towards the voice, the item resting in one of his hands, pained whispers sounding from it.

"Ah won't leave ya, Balmond!"

Another familiar voice, this one female. Feeling a sudden tug in his free hand, Arthas gave in to it. It felt as if electricity was going through his open hand as it rose into the air in the direction of the voices as if he was holding someone by the throat. Black and purple twisted light emanated from his fingers in the direction of the female voice.

A sudden gasp escaped the female and her voice was drowned out and was replaced by sounds of choking.

"Nysotin!"

Closing his hand into a fist, Arthas heard a disgusting crunch and the female went silent. He lowered his hand and a shape fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

His vision was clearing up. He could see people with red masks splayed across the ground, ice having spread throughout the inn, making it seem completely devoid of life. And then there was of course the target he was advancing towards. It was a dwarf with a long brown beard wearing a white shirt and brown dirty pants. He was holding a lifeless shape the size of himself, but the shape's neck was bended weirdly out of place. The dwarf was sobbing, letting tears fall into his cousin's shoulder as he held her tight as if for dear life.

Arthas' inner eyes widened as he finally recognised the dwarf. Balmond?

"Damn you…" The dwarf snarled, letting go of his cousin and grabbing a long kitchen knife on the bar counter.

What is happening? No, Balmond don't! His thoughts went unheard as Arthas' body kept moving on its own through his own deepest and darkest desires.

"Damn you, ya frozen DEMON!" The dwarf screamed and ran with all of his fury towards Arthas.

Balmond stop! But it was already too late.

*Shunk!*

The kitchen knife fell to the floor.

The blur completely disappeared from Arthas' eyes and allowed him to see just what he had done. What he had let himself do.

The former peaceful and happy inn was nothing but a shadow of its former self. Corpses were spread across the floor, almost every table and chair were in shambles. Red stains of blood covered the walls and most of the floor with ice decorating every inch of the inn. There was a biting cold in the air, and Arthas could see his own breath being visible every time he exhaled. And then of course there was Nysotin. Arthas' stomach dropped as he saw her grey lifeless body, her neck having been broken and bending in a twisted and disgusting way.

"Heh…"

Arthas looked up to see the friendly dwarf that had tried to befriend him and even wanting to buy him a drink impaled on his twisted runeblade. Arthas could feel his hands starting to shake as he looked at the dwarf, who was oddly enough smiling.

Balmond coughed up blood and looked at the knight before him in disgust. "Ah hope...there's a...s-special place in hell waiting for ya, you monster…" As a last signature of hate, Balmond tried to spit on Arthas, but fell short. The dwarf exhaled one final time before the runeblade sizzled once more and a white fog disappeared into it.

A loud ringing appeared in Arthas' ears as he drew the runeblade out of the corpse of the dead dwarf before letting it fall to the ground.

His breath was ragged and he was shaking beyond belief. Time seemed to slow down as Arthas took in everything that had happened. The blur from his earlier vision disappeared from his memories and he saw clearly what had happened. He had mercilessly slaughtered every single living being in the inn with a smile on his lips.

Falling to his knees, Arthas felt his throat close as every action he had taken took shape in his head.

Slicing.

Impaling.

Calling upon Frostmourne's unholy power to freeze every exit.

Decapitating.

Dismembering.

Killing.

Slaughtering.

Harvesting.

A loud beating went through his chest, drowning out all sound other than the ringing and a single tear fell from his eyes as he accepted the cruel reality of things. He looked to his hands, noticing they were shaking in their gloves and he couldn't help but look over the gauntlets, the breastplate, the dark armor he was wearing and the guise of his white long hair in front of his face.

His eyes once again fell on the runeblade lying close to Balmond's body, the blade itself covered in blood, a long crack being across its surface. With a shaky sigh, he picked it up and sheathed it.

Doing his utmost to ignore the guilt gnawing in his mind, Arthas looked around the inn until he found the backpack, his crown and his grey dull helmet. The crown rested in his hand as he looked it over. A dark desire welled within him, only getting stronger every time he looked at that dark helmet. He backpacked the crown, and placed the grey helmet on his head before looking towards the frozen exit and walking towards it with quick mournful steps.

Author's Note: Sorry it has been so long since the last chapter. I've been busy to say the least.