Chapter IV: The Lady's Necklace

Rhonin shook his head. He was one of the very few to be able to claim that he had truly seen the distant past, an era beyond his own, yet even then, even having witnessed the destructive battle between the Kaldorei and the Burning Legion ten thousand years ago, that was nothing before the terrible war waged before his eyes. Through the scrying crystal he could see the vast armies of the Argent Crusade clashing against the limitless numbers of the Scourge. Not that he needed the crystal – the pulse of magic could clearly be felt across Icecrown and Crystalsong Forest all the way up to the very core of Dalaran. But, he could also tell another thing. For all their commendable valor and immense strength, the Crusade was losing. They would all be buried in the frosted wastelands soon enough without the Kirin Tor's intervention. Luckily for them, the preparations were finally almost finished.

"Rhonin." A familiar voice sounded from the doorway to the chamber. The Archmage turned his face back to look upon his beloved wife.

"Haven't we stayed here long enough?" Vareesa Windrunner, Ranger General of the Silver Covenant, asked. As always, she cut straight to the chase, without wasting time. This time, she was clearly irritated. Why, when the fate of the world hung on the outcome of a single battle just a couple of hours ride from there, was she, rightful leader of the Covenant's military forces, locked within this compound? Why wasn't she on the front lines, helping her allies destroy their common enemies? Those questions, Rhonin had already read in Vareesa's eyes the first time he asked her to stay in the citadel.

The sorcerer sighed. He'd much rather have Vareesa stay here. As much as he hated to admit it, he had grown up into a much less reckless, much more responsible man. Especially when it came to Vareesa. He didn't want to do anything to jeopardize her safety – and taking her with him to a battle against the Lich King's army certainly was on the very top of the list of potentially fatal actions. But, keeping her here was a sheer impossibility. Too much pride, too much love, too much hatred dragged Vareesa to this war as surely as an arrow released from the bow would follow its due course. Frankly, Rhonin admired her discipline and faith in him. He had expected her to have taken the Rangers and have been long on her way.

"There is still time." Rhonin said soothingly, but bluntly. "The Crusade is holding its ground. Both the Alliance and the Horde have combined their forces to defeat the Scourge."

"Is… she… with them?" Vareesa asked, only stumbling a little at the pronoun. Vareesa's heart might be strong, but it had broken twice already, and very rarely did a smile crawl onto her face these days. Rhonin sighed. He'd give every last shred of his power to make her happy again. But he knew that no matter what immense magical potential he held, he could not mend a shattered heart. Vareesa needed time, and peace, in order to recover. Unfortunately, she had neither.

"No." He replied. I didn't expect her to be. He neglected adding. The Dark Lady would not put herself in the front line, like Sylvanas Windrunner once would. The previous, failed assault on Angrathar was entirely too suspicious for his tastes. A coup it might have been, but if Sylvanas didn't have a hand in the creation of this New Plague, then Rhonin was a Troll. But there was no reason to tell Vareesa that aside from an undead megalomaniac, her sister had turned into an evil homicidal traitor as well.

"I see." The subject was over, just like that. "What I cannot see is why we are staying here. I know you are preparing something, Rhonin, something not even I was made privy of, something that only you and the inner circle of the Kirin Tor is supposed to know." Rhonin's eyes widened involuntarily. He knew he couldn't keep secrets from Vareesa, but… his wife's raised hand forestalled any excuses he was able to conjure at a moment's notice. "You kept your mouth shut for fear of the Lich King's spies, which is commendable – although I will remind you, once this is over, that you should know better than not to confide in me. Now, this something is probably a weapon of sorts that can help you deal with the undead. That much, I see. But why are we here? Why is the Silver Covenant staying behind, when we could be in Icecrown, holding off the undead for you to get ready?"

"We might need protection." Rhonin's protest sounded as foolish to him as it must have sounded to Vareesa. The strength of the Silver Covenant was formidable, but even in its entirety there were few things, if any, against which it would have stood a better chance than the full council of the Kirin Tor, even after its fall and reformation. Some of the strongest sorcerers in the world resided in Dalaran and were ready to ride out right at this moment, and Rhonin was amongst them. "The weapon we are preparing is too important to jeopardize." He amended quickly. "If, despite my best efforts, the Lich King has gained insight into our plans, we will be at our most vulnerable upon our march to Icecrown. We will definitely have need of you, then. That's why Dalaran's military forces were kept at bay."

Vareesa opened her mouth again, but luckily for Rhonin, she was interrupted by the door she had shut behind her opening again. Archmage Modera and Archmage Aethas walked in – Rhonin did not miss Vareesa's venomous glare at the latter. With a deep bow, the two fellow members of the Kirin Tor's leadership and the Council of Six addressed him.

"My lord." Aethas said. "We are ready."

---

Cursing inwardly, Sylvanas ducked again to avoid a volley of arcane and conventional projectiles coming her way. The battle between the Forsaken and the Felblood Elves had degenerated into a bloody melee – it was all or nothing in this chaotic fight. Sylvanas' motion had brought her in range of a Dragonhawk's fog – the Forsaken had been pushed all the way up to the hillfoot – and thus, she did not see the charging blood elf swordsman until it was almost too late. Leaping out of the way of his blade, Sylvanas discarded her bow which had been used for the past half hour to spray death from afar amongst her formercomrades' ranks, and retrieved a long dagger imbued with the deadliest venoms from her waist. Quickly she plunged it into the attacker's neck, who instantly grew limp and fell lifelessly on the ground.

Hardly had the Dark Queen time to recover from this attack than another was felt, this one of arcane composition. Sylvanas raised her hands and created a void centered around her, blocking magic from being activated within. The magic silence partially dispersed the conjured mist, enough to let Sylvanas discern the face of her opponent, a tall Blood Elf warlock, wide-eyed at his spell being suddenly neutralized. Soon, his expression changed from shock to horror to agony as the Dark Ranger's thrown dagger found its intended target in her victim's chest. Before he could die, Sylvanas raised her left arm and, as her silence dissolved, forcefully drew whatever life force was left in the sorcerer, refreshing her own energy.

"You can't run from me, Sylvanas." Kael's cold voice reached her ears – instinctively, she jumped out of the way a mere second before entropic flame scorched the ground. In the light of the flames she caught a glimpse of Kael's form, his eyes twin glowing embers as he was surrounded by what she had come to recognize as fel energy. Just how far had he descended into madness? How deep had his lust for magic dragged him? Sylvanas hardly cared, but she knew something of the need for more power, for magic that the Sunwell couldn't even begin to provide. Had dealings with demons been Kael's only option? Well, it didn't matter now.

"This is taking too long." The unmistakeable, deep tone of one of the Nathrezim followed up on Kael's taunt. "We have other places to be." Grinding her teeth, Sylvanas cursed again as a short chant followed in a language that she presumed was daemonic. Even in the haze, once she looked up, she could clearly see the sky be lit ablaze as meteors descended from the fiery heavens, to rise into the forms of three hulking burning giants – the behemoths known as Infernals.

There was no other option left. They had to retreat. With what remained here, and the rest of the army that was left in Undercity, she might be able to mount a defense formidable enough to halt Kael's army. They would have to leave over half her numbers behind – if as many weren't dead already – and most of the Meat Wagons. But at least they'd survive. At least –

Her thoughts were interrupted by another voice, booming over the sounds of battle and the noises the roaring infernals made. She recognized it, though she hadn't heard it in many, many years and hadn't expected to hear it any time soon.

"Put your arms down, wayward brothers and sisters. By order of Lor'themar Theron, Regent Lord of Quel'Thalas since Prince Kael'thas' betrayal, it is time you answered for your crimes."

Moving, so that her eyes could clearly see the newcomers – there was a large force of Blood Elves, more than enough to match Kael's numbers, and at the head of it stood the man she remembered from her days as Ranger, at first her superior and then her lieutenant. Lor'themar Theron, distinguished for his services to the Blood Elves and appointed their leader by Kael'thas himself. One of the last men on Azeroth she would have expected to come to her rescue.

Lor'themar caught sight of her as well, and with the trained perception of a Ranger, she caught a small change in his face, banished as soon as it had come. Was it pity? Pain? Or was it disdain? How would Sylvanas look now to one who had seen her, had fought with her, had been with her during her earlier days? Sylvanas vanquished such thoughts. Emotions had no room in the empty heart of a Forsaken.

"Why are you interfering, Lor'themar?" Kael rounded on him, mad rage in his voice suppressed beneath his usual demeanor. "Have you forgotten what the undead have done to our homeland? To us?" The fel fire orbs burned brighter around the Blood Mage, and he indicated Lor'themar's missing eye with his finger.

"They are not the Scourge, Kael. And at any rate, allying with the undead are better than condemning yourself by allying with the Burning Legion!" Lor'themar, in turn, pointed at the three Dreadlords, who stood calmly behind Kael'thas with their Infernal minions, watching the exchange between the two sin'dorei.

"Allow me to disagree." Kael said mockingly. He raised his arms, and all around him, fel fire erupted in a blazing display of power. "Can't you feel it, Lor'themar? Can't you feel it, Blood Elves? This is what arcane magic can evolve to. This is TRUE power!!"

"Your words of cowardice hold no sway over the Highborne any more, traitor prince." Lor'themar responded, alleviating the last of Sylvanas' fears. "You will not listen to reason, but I do hope that at least some of your misguided followers will heed our call. You can still be saved from yourselves, from the demons, if only you make the correct choice now." Even without running the risk of being burnt alive by their leader on the spot upon the slightest hint of movement, Sylvanas doubted any of the Felblood elves would have turned coat now. Arcane magic was addictive – very addictive. Fel magic must be a thousand times so. Several wavered, made as if to move – but all stayed their places. Kael's influence was too strong.

"It is a sad day that quel'dorei shall raise their weapons against their brothers." Lor'themar said heavily, momentarily closing his eyes. "But for the sake of us all, your reign of treason must end."

Oh, yes. It would all end here. Lor'themar had handed her a perfect way to rid herself of most of her troubles in one shot. She should thank him for it.

After she turned him into one of her minions, that is.

---

Panting heavily, Khadgar sagged against the walls of the Terrace of Light. For the past hour, he and Velen had taken turns maintaining the shield above the citadel to defend Shattrath against the demonic legions. A'dal's power was formidable, but there was only so many ways the naaru could use it by himself. To design such a complex pattern had taken all of Khadgar's formidable magical genius. To maintain it needed constant attention, and Khadgar and Velen were the only ones skilled enough to guide the spell along Shattrath's laylines into an effective form. Well, Ishanah or Voren'thal could have done it as well, most likely. But there was no room for error here, and they had both opted to go to the walls and aid the defense of the city against the invaders' more conventional siege methods first-hand.

The sad truth was, Khadgar was getting too old for this. He and Velen had agreed to hold the barrier each for fifteen minutes, and then resting while the other took up. But while Velen appeared largely unperturbed by the effort, Khadgar himself was exhausted from handling the immense energy of the naaru, and willing it into his spell. When he had asked Velen on advice, the draenei had only muttered something abstract about the need to surrender your will to the naaru's power and let it guide you, instead of trying to guide it yourself. Immensely wise for a human Archmage he might be, but when it came down to the true miracle that were the naaru, he was almost as clueless as a newborn infant. Almost.

The already hard task of maintaining the barrier would have been made nigh-impossible with constant interruptions, so Khadgar had requested that noone bothered them until it was a matter of life and death. Thus, he was annoyed but quite a bit concerned when the door knocked, and, without waiting for an answer, opened to admit Adyen, the Lightwarden.

"My deepest apologies for bothering you, but this is important." She said in hasty, hushed tones after a quick, formal bow. Khadgar said nothing, only waited for her to go on. "We found a stranger in the streets. She was unconscious, and almost on the verge of dying. We didn't know what to do with her, so we brought her here."

Someone popping up in the streets of a besieged city was no small matter, especially in such a condition. "Then I will come with you to meet her." He said immediately, and, picking up his staff, followed Adyen out of the chamber.

Clearly, the female that was lying on the bed had been in as bad a situation, if not worse, than Adyen had described. She had been treated to the essentials, of course, but she still looked weak, and Khadgar only sensed a whisper of energy from her. Her eyes were closed, but her breathing was too fast for her to be sleeping. Her fists were clenched, and sweat was running down her forehead – her mouth was half-opened and her lips constantly moved, as if trying to speak a single word. Far more intriguing than any of the previous observations, Khadgar found the fact that she was one of the Night Elves, the mysterious ancient race that had first faced the Legion once it invaded Azeroth.

"Can you hear me, Night Elf?" He said quietly, in a cool voice. The woman half-opened her eyes, which were bloodstained and haunted, to gaze at him. She nodded slightly.

"Do you know where you are?" He inquired. The Night Elf pushed herself up on her elbows.

"Shattrath City." She said. Her voice was weak, barely audible, but Khadgar instantly discerned the power behind it. It was a voice used to order, and to expect said orders to be followed.

"Correct. What are you doing here?" He continued with his interrogation. The woman's eyes, bloodshot and haunted, transfixed into his own, and for the first time in ages, Khadgar found himself willing to step back. There was something about those eyes, an overwhelming darkness held within. What had she been through, to turn like this?

"I will kill Illidan." She said simply. Khadgar heard Adyen gasp. It took all of his composure to hold back a shocked reflex as well. Kill Illidan, indeed. A highly unlikely goal to achieve in her state, but that aside, they were still words to make Khadgar wonder.

"Why do you want to kill Illidan?" He asked, finding it difficult to suppress emotion in his voice. He recognized that look now. It was the look of despair. Of solitude.

"Revenge. He took away everything I had." The heavy words were spoken in a monotonous voice, as if they were of no importance any more. The elf even shrugged her shoulders as she spoke. Did she even believe her own reasoning?

"What is your name?"

"Maiev Shadowsong." Came the simple response.

"Well, Maiev." Khadgar approached the barely conscious elf. "I will take you to someone you might be interested in meeting. Can you stand?" He asked, while sending a stream of refreshing energy to her body. Maiev didn't react, she simply rose from the bed and followed Khadgar back into the Terrace, all the while her head held low in a forlorn expression.

"Here we are." He announced, and they walked into A'dal's presence.

Instantly, the Night Elf fell to her knees, screaming and holding her face with her hands. Khadgar, who hadn't expected quite that kind of response, jumped back in surprise. Velen barely opened his eyes, took in the scene, and closed them again, forcing Khadgar to admit with grudging respect that when it came to mental focus the draenei prophet was by far his superior.

"E – Elune…" He heard Maiev whisper. "It is you… I've finally found you…"

Then A'dal turned, and Khadgar suffered his second shock. The naaru's face held an expression of compassion and warmth that made the mage shudder. Suddenly he could very well understand the tears in Maiev's eyes.

"No, Maiev." A'dal whispered. "The Light you see was always within you. Elune is you, just as she is me, like she was at the dawn of the world. Elune, the Light, forgives, Maiev. Bathe yourself in your faith, Maiev. You have never been lost – only misguided."

One of Maiev's hand's reached for her face, and removed the iron-wrought mask she wore. Underneath, a beautiful face was revealed, a pair of silver eyes shedding tears of joy.

"Thank you." She whispered finally, before falling unconscious.

---

A scream of pained agony, of unbearable suffering, escaped the Elf's lips. She would not give in. Yet even as she thought so, another lash of darkness struck, another eternity of suffering added to the already innumerable millennia she had been forced through. How many ages, how many eternities had passed after she had fallen into the demon's grasp? She couldn't tell. Everyone was long dead by now. Only her, a lingering shattered soul, persisted. Or was it just an illusion? Had she already died, and was it only her soul that was kept intact, put through an eternal torment for the demon's twisted pleasure?

"Everyone has fallen, elf." The demon whispered. "Everyone is gone. You are alone now. You are already a slave to my will. Slaves must be faithful, and loyal. You are my slave, but you are not loyal to me. Say it. Submit, and the pain will go away." Once more, the temptation, the accursed temptation of freedom – but it was no more than an illusion, she knew. Every time, she had discarded it, and every time the pain had continued. Did it matter any more? Was there any difference between life and death, a second and an eternity, pride and submission? She didn't know.

"I submit." She whispered finally it was done.

"Good." She heard the demon laugh, and the evil laughter was mirrored by a thousand voices – as her shackles were released and her senses returned, she realized with horror that she was very much alive. Alive, and her will, her pride, shattered.

She had been broken. The Light help her, Alleria Windrunner, Ranger-Captain of Quel'Thalas, had been broken.

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Author's Notes: Well, the majority of characters in this chapter have had only minor roles during the Warcraft III / Frozen Throne campaigns, and though some appear in WoW as lore characters, it is understandable that you may be unfamiliar with them – they played prominent roles in the earlier Warcraft games, as well as the novels / manga / comics. It would be impractical to elaborate upon everyone and everything here, so you can refer to wowwiki's extensive articles for any necessary information. But, a few words for the lazy; say that Khadgar and Rhonin were powerful wizards of the Kirin Tor that played critical roles during the Second War against the Horde – Khadgar was Medivh's apprentice and the one who defeated him, while Rhonin had traveled to the past to the time of the Legion's first invasion. Vareesa and Alleria Windrunner are Sylvanas' younger and older sister respectively, both Rangers of Quel'Thalas – Alleria led a raid in Outland and jumped into the Twisting Nether with the rest of her allies after Khadgar closed the Dark Portal, and Vareesa was Rhonin's beloved and later his wife, and now leads the Alliance forces in Dalaran. This is by no means complete information, so if you aren't familiar with these characters already, I'd highly advise you to read the relevant articles.

On an unrelated note, if you're wondering about the chapter's title, it stems from the homonymous quest in World of Warcraft, which is completed once you deliver Alleria's necklace to Sylvanas and triggers the event Lament of the Highborne. I strongly advise you to look it up if you aren't familiar with it.

I do hope everyone has been enjoying the story so far, I've tried to give it as much of a Warcraft-esque feel from the original stories as well as the novels as I could while still maintaining WoW's epic scope. As always, reviews and criticism are welcome.

- Escalus: I'm glad you think so. Hopefully there is enough going on to keep you interested until then.

- eiko: Well, you'll find out in due time.