Kalec knew he wasn't free, even if he was back in the present. He knew he was in the present because he was in the arcane-blasted ruins of Theramore and could see a Legion spaceship blasting Tanaris in the distance. He knew he wasn't free because he knew there was only one body left in Theramore. And it was dead. Still buried in Theramore was the body of Admiral Daelin Proudmoore of Kul Tiras. The father of Jaina, who he was still on a break with.
Kalec sighed. Just because he was the washed up former Aspect of Magic didn't mean he knew necromancy. Nozdormu expected too much from him. How was he going to spend the day with a corpse?
As if on cue, Kalec saw a splash in the surf near where he was standing. He ran to the water and plunged his hand in to investigate. From the water, he retrieved a small flute with a note attached that somehow resisted the water. It read: "Use this if you need a convenient Necromancer and your name is Kalecgos."
Well, both of those criteria fit him. On most occasions, he would never want to be near a necromancer, but if he ever wanted to be free from Nozdormu's drug-induced game he would have to make an exception.
Kalecgos pressed his lips to the flute and blew air into it, careful not to use his ice breath and break it.
"OCEAN MAN, TAKE ME BY THE HAND, LEAD ME TO THE LAND THAT YOU UNDERSTAND. OCEAN MAN, THE VOYAGE TO THE CORNER OF A GLOBE IS A REAL TRIP. OCEAN MAN, THE CRUST OF A TAN MAN IMBIBED BY THE SAND. SOAKING UP THE THIRST OF THE LAND."
Kalecgos dropped the flute immediately, startled by the incredibly loud singing that erupted from it. He knew it wasn't him. The flute must have been enchanted to play that song. But why?
The question was quickly answered as a skeletal hand burst out of the ocean and sections of the surf turned to ice and melted again at random. A staff tipped with a Linkin Park album rose from the unstable waters and following it, came an entire Lich. The lich floated up from the waves and onto the battered coast.
"Someone call for a Necromancer?"
"Um… yeah. But who are you?"
"I am the great Amnennar the Edgebringer!"
"Who?"
"The only necromancer who's worth shit on this Ner'zhul-forsaken continent. And one of the few real Liches left in the world. I used to be the coldbringer, but after Nozdormu rescued me from my Red Dragonflight wardens, he demanded I start bringing edge rather than cold. But hey, freedom's nice."
"Of course it was him. Was he stoned?"
"Yep. Anyways, what did you need? He made that flute to call me for you exactly one time, so I figure this is important."
"Well… I need to raise a Daelin Proudmoore from the dead."
Amnnenar may not have had any skin, but Kalec could see the fear in his hollow sockets. Somehow. With magic.
"You sure about that. Isn't his daughter your girlfriend?"
"We're on a break. And for the record, this is one hundred percent Nozdormu's fault."
"Well… okay. I guess I'll do it. Just take me to the body and I'll work on waking that guy from his dirtnap."
Kalec escorted Amnennar to the grave, which was miraculously undamaged by the Mana Bomb dropped by Garradolf Hitlerscream all those years ago. Using his ice breath, he turned the dirt on top of the coffin into a chunk of ice that he easily levitated out of the ground.
Amnennar opened the coffin and retrieved the spooky skeletal remains of Daelin Proudmoore.
"Well… the ritual must begin."
"Wait, ritual? I thought you just cast a spell and it's done."
"I'm not raising a ghoul, I'm actually bringing a guy back to life. Let me show you how a professional does it." Amnennar spun around and his robes changed from purple to black. His staff was replaced by a microphone. The lich "cleared his throat", which wasn't really possible since he had no lungs to speak of.
"What-what's going on?"
Amnennar gave no response. The ritual began with a terrifying howl into the microphone. "HOW CAN YOU SEE INTO MY EYES LIKE OPEN DOORS, LEADING YOU DOWN INTO MY CORE WHERE I'VE BEEN SO NUMB? WITHOUT A SOUL MY SPIRIT'S SLEEPING SOMEWHERE COLD UNTIL YOU FIND IT THERE AND LEAD IT BACK… HOME."
At this point, the lich was slamming a spoon into his bony wrists as he continued his deafening howls. "WAKE ME UP INSIDE! I CAN'T WAKE UP! WAKE ME UP INSI-"
The lich could not finish as an arcane missile pierced the back of his skull. Kalecgos ran over to the lich without even seeing who fired the missile. "AMNENNAR! Are you okay?" Kalec didn't know the lich for long, but he knew that Amnennar's necromancy was his only way to hanging out with Daelin Proudmoore… and his only way to freedom.
"No… I am returning to my phylactery."
"Are you sure? What do you see?"
"All around me… familiar faces. Worn out places. Worn out faces. Yeah… I'm sure."
Kalec watched the light fade from the lich's eye sockets as the body dissipated into blue ribbons of arcane magic that shot into the air to return to Amnennar's phylactery. When Kalec turned around around, he was seething. Puffs of frost came from his nostrils and the air around him grew cold. He looked up to the lich's murderer and saw…
"JAINA?!"
"Kalec, we decide to take a break for a week and you're already trying to RAISE MY FATHER FROM THE DEAD?!"
"I swear it isn't what it looks like! And you just murdered Amnennar! How could you?
"He was singing really badly and TRYING TO MAKE MY DAD A DAMN GHOUL!"
"Actually, the singing was to MAKE SURE HE BECAME A PROPER UNDEAD INSTEAD OF A GHOUL!"
Jaina's face was eerily calm. "Very well. You know magic to well to fall for these tricks. I suppose you've earned the right to know the real reason I couldn't let this happen."
When Kalec looked back to the skeletal remains of the admiral, he noticed things he hadn't before. Namely, the clear as day remains of broken horns and tattered demonic wings. And hooves. And a set of distinctive black armor that was only worn by one creature.
Kalec closed his eyes. "A Dreadlord." He turned around and looked at Jaina again. Where she was standing, there was only a Dreadlord.
"Come on, don't tell me you didn't realize it sooner."
"How long?"
"What?"
"HOW. LONG? HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN IMPERSONATING MY GIRLFRIEND!"
The Dreadlord gave a maniacal cackle. "You still don't realize. There was no impersonation required. I, Jaina Proudmoore, always was and always will be a Dreadlord. In fact, the entire royal family of Kul Tiras is comprised of Dreadlords!"
"How has nobody noticed?"
"Oh, we just pretended to be humans. It was never so hard. I've been silently manipulating events from the beginning. Arthas becoming evil? I just abandoned him when he needed me. And hell, I even killed my own father when I needed to advance the Legion's plan."
As if Kalecgos wasn't horrified enough, he suddenly reached the worst realization of them all. "Wait… if this is who you really are, then… have you been a man this whole time?"
The Dreadlord gave a horrifying needle-toothed grin. "Yes. I, Jaina Proudmoore, am a Dreadlord. Not a Dread-Lady."
"Oh… oh Titans no. B-but we… we did the… you know…"
"Yes. We did."
"Am… am I gay?"
The Dreadlord gave another evil grin and did not mention that Dreadlords were technically genderless. Better to watch the dragon squirm. Jaina flew off on demonic wings, carrying the remains of Daelin.
Kalec was left on the sandy beach, knees sunken into the sand. He buried his face in his hands and cried, realizing that the one who he had been holding hands with all this time was a man.
"To hold hands with a man… there is no greater act of gayness."
With those words, Kalec collapsed into the sand of the beach. He did not notice as the bronze drake picked him up and threw him through yet another portal.