Lordaeron had indeed been destroyed, but as Andreth soon learned, a new realm had been formed in its wake. The Dark Lady herself had made it her residence, calling it simply the Undercity. Nestled beneath the crumbling ruins of Lordaeron, those living there were every day reminded of what had been Before. The inhabitants of Brill seemed merry next to these. There was no smile seen or gentle word spoken; experiments and tortures (quite often the same thing) were performed in the open for all to see, always to the approval of the crowds. The city was a pit of depravity and despair, and yet its people seemed to revel in it.
And yet these had once been husbands and wives and children and neighbors. Andreth did not fancy himself an idealist, but the change sickened him. As soon as morbid curiosity had been satisfied, he nearly ran through the crumbled, labyrinthine corridors out into the relative fresh air of Tirisfal.
The forest was lonely, as all forests must be. There was no noise save for the scurry of a rat or squirrel seeking refuge in the shadows. The single stream that wove between the trees, muddy and choked with dead leaves, was noiseless as it moved ever forward in its lonely trek. A few brave rays of moonlight broke through the thick foliage overhead, casting soft pools of light on the carpeted forest floor.
But the forest was not as empty as it seemed, for there was to be seen a lone woman who moved among the trees with the same dogged sense of purpose as one of the small animals fleeing to shelter. And yet, however marked her purpose, she found herself passing by the same rock or tree time and time again. She stopped, clasping her hands no her chest and staring up at the moon overhead. She made a rather ghostly sight, standing there bathed in soft moonlight, her slender frame encompassed by soiled white robes. Wide eyes, sunken back into her hollow face, continued to stare hungrily at that sole source of light and comfort.
A dark cloud passed over the moon, and the woman was again left in darkness. The forest around her seemed colder and somehow more sinister than ever.
A rustling sound came from behind her. It was so faint that she would not have heard it normally, but to her senses, heightened by fear and despair, it was as loud as a crack of thunder. She turned, forcing herself to move slowly and not bolt in the opposite direction. A pair of faintly glowing eyes locked on her, and a moment later the owner of these eyes stepped forward. It was a man, or at least it had once been a man. Long, limp locks of dark hair fell about his gaunt face, giving him a wild, haggard look. And yet, as repulsive and frightening as his appearance was, he did not look altogether dangerous. Her gaze traveled over faded leather armor hanging loosely on his thin frame, down to the rusted daggers by his side. Those looked dangerous.
The man made no move, but simply stood, slightly hunched, staring at her with some measure of disinterest.
"I am headed to Brill," she whispered. Her voice was foreign to her ears, being rough from disuse. "But I have lost my way, you see."
He seemed surprised that she should speak. "Yes, you have indeed lost your way," he said without inflection.
"Perhaps…perhaps you could be so kind as to point me towards the right way?" It was a foolish question, she felt, for he could easily lie to her and take her to his dark lair and kill her! Upon further reflection, however, she realized that if he cared to kill her, he could certainly do so now and nobody would ever know. A chill ran up her spine, but her smile remained pasted on her face.
"South."
She blinked, pausing a moment before asking, "And south is…?"
The faintest of smiles touched his cracked lips, making him look more human and somehow…familiar. He pointed behind her with a long, skeletal finger. "There. Take care to follow the road."
"Of course. Thank you," she murmured, turning to leave though her gaze was unable to leave his face. It was the eyes…disaffected, defensive…yet somehow gentle.
He straightened, folding his arms. "It may interest you to know that you look just as bad as I do."
"I didn't mean to stare," she said, ducking her head. "It's just that, you see, you remind me of someone."
"You spend a lot of time with corpses?"
Silence fell between them, as heavy as the fog that was now creeping over the land. Nighttime was fast approaching, frightening away the last traces of light. The woman looked up once more at the stranger, no longer concerned with offending. His features were by now nearly impossible to discern, thus her study was most unrewarding.
"Don't tell me you've gotten lost again just by standing here," he muttered at length.
"No. No, not at all." She drew her cowl over her head and gathered up her robes about her. "Allow me to reward you for your kindness; I haven't much, but I think that--"
"Unnecessary."
Withdrawing a few silver coins, she inched forward, holding her breath as she extended her hand. "I insist."
"And I refuse. Your charity is unwished for."
With those few words, everything was made clear. She had heard them before, so long ago, from a boy who would sooner die of cold and neglect than receive kindness…from a man who had been sentenced to death so many years ago. "Andreth," she gasped. "Andreth!"
His countenance changed from shock to confusion and vulnerability in a moment. It vanished as he stepped forward to lightly grab her chin and tilt her face towards his. He studied her intently, then released her and stepped back. "Vahal," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "You deserved a kinder fate."
