Chapter 9

In the Hillsbrad Foothills…

The sun had descended into the western mountains when Jeshua and his companions made camp after crossing through the gap in the wall. The formerly undead assassin led Jeshua and his other students through the ancient fortification known as Thoradin's Wall far from the Horde movements as the light receded. True to Mathaius' word, there were no patrols near the great cracks in the crumbling stone edifice. The orange glow of campfires and smaller moving lights which could only be oil lamps could be seen burning to the south near the gate.

"In my line of work you get to know the pathways everyone else forgets about. You find ways of making yourself unseen." The assassin had told them after they stopped. "I mean, what I used to do before I met you." A haunted look had filled his living eyes. "I- I don't want to do that anymore."

They made camp near the top of a high rocky hill not much farther beyond the wall. From there could be seen much of the valley of the Hillsbrad Foothills leading into the Alterac Mountains. Directly beneath them to the west they looked on the expansive ruin of Durnholde Keep. Once it had been an internment camp for Orcs after the second war between them and the Alliance peoples. It had been notoriously run by an immoral and ambitious man named Blackmoore. Following the third war, and the resurrection of the Horde under Warchief Thrall, it had been occupied by members of the Syndicate organization as a base of operations for several years until the Forsaken took complete control of the Foothills with the fall of Hillsbrad and Southshore. Now, as the sunlight dimmed, Jeshua and his followers could only see dim, unearthly, haunted glows moving around in different parts of the ruins.

"They're elementals." Mathaius had told them. "They drove the rest of the gang members out after the Cataclysm and haven't given ground since. Every once in a while some poor fool wanders in trying to prove himself. They don't usually wander back out again. None of my people even risk going in. The ruin's not worth the effort. Best to stay clear of Durnholde."

The evening grew dimmer until the stars came out and shone brightly over the evergreen woods they could see from the hill top. Eventually, the White Lady which the Night Elves venerated as Elune, rose in the sky illuminating the region with her soft silvery light. To the west, the stars and the White Lady shone down upon a river which snaked its way from Darrowmere Lake in the north to the Bay of Baradin in the south. To the northwest could also be seen strange purple and green lights and the shapes of buildings like a town. To the south lay the sea far off in the distance.

As the companions attempted to settle in, the temperature around them began to fall just a little faster. The day had been cool, but not cold. The night in the northern climate, however, became uncomfortably cold and moist out in the open air. Around them there on the hill were sticks and fallen branches from the trees. Jim then felt around in the pockets of his own trousers and came up with his flint for making a small campfire. Pulling a knife from his boot, he set to work arranging some loose rock into a small ring, and then used some of the fallen wood to make shavings of the sap filled evergreen wood for tinder.

"What are you doing?" Mathaius asked him. "Are you crazy? That'll act like a beacon for every Deathguard in a ten mile radius."

Without hesitating, Jim continued to work on his campfire as he replied, "Then let's hope they think we're a bunch o' Orcs on a camping trip. It's gettin' cold, kid, and on a night like this it's probably gonna get colder. Ain't none of us have heavy enough clothing for this kind o' thing. The air's gonna get damper too. At best, we all might catch colds 'n won't be fit for anything. At worst, we may need the Captain to call us back from the dead and hope he wakes up in time to notice."

Jim gestured back towards Jeshua with his thumb as he said this dryly.

Jeshua smirked in response. "I am a heavy sleeper."

"See?" Jim continued, returning the smirk. "Besides, we're pretty high up and at night from a distance could be mistaken for anyone if the fire's seen, and I ain't plannin' on signalin' Stormwind with it. Just big enough to keep us all warm and dry tonight."

Mathaius shivered even as he responded to Jim, "Who are you calling kid? I'm probably just as old as you are." He realized the air temperature was becoming difficult for him to bear as well.

The former assassin had forgotten having to be concerned with how hot or cold the air was, or whether it was too wet or too dry, or even whether he needed to be able to breathe it. He had already been dead. What more could the environment throw at him? But now he had skin, blood, and a beating heart, and everything which went with taking care of them.

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that. You look so much like a wet behind the ears greenhorn, I forget how old you really are." Jim replied and kept building his fire.

Mathaius shook his head and silently prayed the salty sailor was right about the patrols paying no attention. They were pretty high up the hill, and the patrols didn't usually care about the wilder regions of the Foothills because of the high chance of any living flesh becoming a meal for its more beastly denizens; owlkin, bears, and wild gryphons all called this forest home. It had been sheer chance that they themselves hadn't run into anything carnivorous looking for a quick meal.

High overhead, the shadow of something large with the outline of bat's wings passed across the moon in the sky. Mathaius thought it must have been one of the riding bats flying towards Tarrin Mill, the town across the river to the northwest and paid it little mind. The riding bats flew all the time to and from the town.

Truth was, Mathaius didn't really know what the human priest, and he was certain that must be his discipline, really expected to accomplish there or why he had even come. He had been sincere in his willingness to follow him back into lands that were now hostile to him. Death hadn't held any terror for him for almost thirty years, and didn't really now. He owed Jeshua not only his own beating heart, but the chance to pass into the Light that for so long had been taken from him. But that said, he didn't understand what the young teacher's plan was.

Jim lit his fire with his knife and flint and the shavings took quickly for the sap in them, filling the air around them with a scent almost like incense. The fire grew as he carefully added twigs and smaller sticks until the fire was large enough and they all drew around it for warmth.

And then Jeshua, sitting in front of the fire, began to tell them another story.

"What is the Kingdom of Light like?" He asked. "At one time there was a goblin of modest means that lived in Azshara. One day he went for a walk, trying to think of a business opportunity to enrich himself. Walking along he tripped over a rock. When he got back up, he turned around and studied the rock which was jutting out of the ground. Then, he realized it was a chunk of Truesilver that was embedded in the ground. He then began to dig around it to try and collect what was there and make a profit off of it. But the deeper he dug, the larger the rock became until he realized it couldn't be dug up at all, but was just the tip of a huge underground vein of the metal that would require mining rights and equipment. Not one to be deterred by such a little obstacle, and seeing that the land it was sitting on was unclaimed as far as he knew, he did some quick calculations and figured out how much it would cost him to excavate it. He then filled back in what he had dug up and hid the outcropping under some worthless rocks until he could come back to it. Coming up with a number, he immediately went and sold everything he owned, took the small bag of gold from the proceeds and bought all the seemingly worthless land around the outcropping, estimating how large the vein was, and with what was left bought the equipment he needed to mine the precious metal himself. Well, the other goblins who saw what he did thought he was crazy and laughed at him because they thought the land was worthless. He then worked day and night to bring up the metal, refine it, and then sell it at the local auction house to the highest bidder. So is everyone who searches the depths of the Kingdom of Light within themselves and submits to it."

He continued to speak like this around the campfire for the next hour until the flames died down and everyone was too tired to stay awake.

Back in Stormwind…

Velen had much on his mind as he looked out the window at Azeroth's primary moon the humans called "The White Lady." He had seen many such celestial bodies in the Draenei's exodus from Argus and journey through the great beyond, though there was something truly inspiring about this one the Kaldorei associated with their goddess, Elune.

He had spent most of the early part of the day and past noontime conferring further with the High Priestess and her clergy in the Cathedral about the rumors now surrounding the unknown man Kenata Dabyrie called "Jeshua." After leaving the Cathedral earlier in the day, she had gone to a local tavern and, after several drinks, had told everyone in the Pig and Whistle what she had seen the day before. The story spread like a wildfire across the city, even more so for its impossibility, and merged with the previous rumors involving the Demon Hunter and the storm at Menethil Harbor.

It was true that they had neither counseled her to keep it quiet, nor had they outright forbade her. Laurena had in fact just believed, perhaps naively, that this story would die quickly for its ridiculousness. Velen himself had underestimated the humans' propensity for gossip. In a city of three hundred thousand souls, the story had spread to every maid, schoolboy, and tradesman by the time the evening meal was to be served at King Anduin's table alongside Genn Greymane, to which he himself had been invited.

After conferring with the human clergy, the hoary headed Draenei man then made his way into the Trade District, drawing no shortage of stares from the local people, and attempted to locate Davidson's Furniture. When he did by the third hour after noon, he inquired after Mrs. Davidson from the owner, a man named Joseph.

"You're very welcome in my shop, your grace." The man had told him, using a formal human title for a high priest or bishop. "How can I help you?"

He had briefly glanced around the business, taking in perhaps what kind of a man he would be speaking with. What he saw was a well kept shop with a fine dusting of wood particles here and there. The furniture for sale appeared well made, polished, and sturdy. Pieces sat next to one wall with tags on them, the names of their buyers written neatly in a block lettering. Behind the man had been a workroom where two younger men, boys really, appeared to be sanding and polishing a set of wooden chairs with ornately carved backs and upholstered seats.

The man himself had heavily calloused hands that still appeared quite strong. His dark hair and beard was appearing to gray in spots, though it blended in well. His red work shirt and worn blue overalls stained with polish and ground in wood dust told of many days of working hard at his craft. His face and eyes appeared to be honest and in good spirits, though there was a sadness that life had brought to them as well.

"I am looking for a human woman I saw with her daughter the other day in Stormwind Keep. They had been visiting the library. I was told her name was Miriam, and that I might find her here." He explained plainly to the man.

"Miriam?" Joseph had asked, surprised. "Uh, she's not here your grace, although she should be back in about an hour when we start locking up for the end of the day if you'd like to come back."

Then, a look of concern began to replace the surprise. "Can I ask what it's about? She is my wife."

Velen hesitated for a moment, but then realized the man's request was only natural, and if he was her husband than it would have concerned him too.

"Of course, that is only fair after all." Velen replied. "It concerns a man named Jeshua I have heard of recently. I was hoping to speak with her about him."

Joseph's whole demeanor changed at the mention of Jeshua's name as a range of emotions flashed across his face from shock to anger, and then from anger to fear, and then from fear to what Velen interpreted as a kind of hopeful longing as only a father could. He recognized this latter emotion because he knew that longing very well himself, much to his own personal tragedy.

"Jeshua?" Joseph replied, his voice cracking as he repeated his name. "What…? Where is he? You know where our son is?"

And there it was. One of the answers he was looking for. "Perhaps. I do not know for certain if it is the same person. But there have been many stories circulating about this man within the city today, all of them beyond believability. You say that Jeshua is your son? He was born to you?" Velen asked.

"Yes. Well… no, not exactly. His mother and I married when he was still a baby, but I've always thought of him as mine, even when he… uh..." At this, the man's eyes began to water, and he fought back the tears which threatened to erupt. "Even when he left. We haven't heard anything from him since he was twelve. I had given up hope. I'm sorry, your grace." Joseph then said as he turned away from the Draenei man and covered his eyes with his hand briefly. "Give me a minute please."

So not his physical father, but raised by him as his own son. Velen thought to himself, empathy stirring in him for the pain the man bore. Velen reached out a hand and called on the command of the Light he still possessed to send peace and comfort into him to soothe his pain.

"Thank… thank you for your kindness." Joseph told him. "Have you heard from him then? Is he well? Is he in trouble?"

"Honestly sir, that remains to be seen." He told him, and then added to the man whose grief had been awoken again, "But the Light heals all those who allow it to shine on them, and its will is perfect."

He wasn't sure he believed those words himself anymore, but they had the desired effect and the man looked comforted.

And then Joseph said, "Jeshua always did have a special connection to the Light. One Miriam seemed to understand but never told me why. Maybe I should have asked more questions, but all I ever wanted to do was love them both and give them a home. I..."

"Did what the Light called you to do." Velen finished for him, not even certain where the words themselves had come from, but they seemed right. "That is all anyone can be asked."

"Thank you again." Joseph told him. He then added, "Sometimes she likes to take Sarah into the Mage's district. Our little girl likes to watch the magic users practice their arts when she's not reading. She's a smart one like her mom is. They might be there."

"Thank you, sir." Velen had told him, then taking his leave.

"Your grace?" Joseph then called behind him.

Velen then stopped and turned, "Yes?"

"If you find him, would you let us know? At least to let us know he's alright?" Joseph asked him.

Velen considered this and then nodded slowly as one father to another. "I will indeed, sir." He replied, and then left the shop.

The Mage's district of Stormwind was not far across the canals on the west side of the city from where the Davidson's shop was kept. Velen and the vindicators who followed him across the bridge and through the gateway into the twisting and turning quarter of the city most of its magic users of every stripe called home. Still not being familiar with the maze like city pathways, he followed the line of shops and violet roofed row housing built into the walls to the right and continued up and around the circular pathway looking for the strawberry colored human woman and her daughter.

The Draenei moved up along the paths, passing many shops, homes, and establishments, but Velen did not see the woman from the Keep. They then passed in front of a large archway built into the wall. The opposing opening led to a brick and cobblestone platform that overlooked Lion's Rest and the sea beyond it. Large black banners with green Illidari sigils had been posted to either side of the archway's entry.

The Illidari mission, Velen realized. He knew they maintained a diplomatic presence in Stormwind like they did in Orgrimmar even long after the war had been over, but he had never seen it personally. In truth, it resembled little more than a hole in the wall which had been set aside for their use as opposed to an official embassy, but then the Illidari themselves were more than controversial figures.

Velen then paused and stopped. Something seemed off about it. Then he noticed, there were torches in wall sconces, but they were not lit. There were braziers at the far end, but they too appeared to be cold. There was no one present in the archway at all.

"Those are Illidari banners, but where are the Illidari?" One of the vindicators had questioned.

His companion had been right. Especially with the incidents which did happen with their people, it seemed a poor time for the Demon Hunters to abandon their diplomatic availability.

A Stormwind guard on patrol passing by noticed the Draenei interest in the Demon Hunter's alcove and must have observed the looks of confusion on their faces because he stopped and told them, "All six of them up and left this morning without any explanation. Began making my rounds not long after sun up and everything appeared to be normal. When I came back around a couple of hours later the place was empty."

Velen nodded his thanks at the guard who then continued onwards.

They were always unpredictable, much like their master. The Draenei man mused, remembering his final conversation with Illidan at the seat of the Titan pantheon. The great betrayer had ultimately proven the kind of man he was once and for all, sacrificing himself one last time to keep his world safe forever. Always unpredictable indeed.

Not finding the woman or her daughter, they had returned to Stormwind Keep where Greymane's and Anduin's dinner conversation turned to recent skirmishes between Horde and Alliance troops once more in Ashenvale, the Stonetalon Mountains, and the Arathi Highlands. They wanted to discuss troop movements and numbers, and Anduin seemed more and more like a man he didn't know, the hardened look in his eyes never leaving, especially when the name of Sylvanas Windrunner was mentioned. It had been her betrayal at the Broken Shore which had cost his father his life, as well as the lives of many other good men like Tyrion Fordring, the Paladin Highlord.

Perhaps Velen was just getting old, but the talk of military matters and of old hatreds left a sour taste in his mouth. Didn't we just end one war? How many good people did it cost us? Do we have to start another so soon? He had excused himself and retired early, once again taking up the question of the man Jeshua. Eventually, he would need to see the man for himself he knew.

"Who are you, Jeshua?" He asked aloud.

In the Hillsbrad Foothills…

Syloren's sharp ears caught the sound of feet attempting to shuffle up the hill first. He woke with a start though his hunter's reflexes honed over the years of his being Illidari remained perfectly still, instinctively waiting and listening for his prey. It sounded large, stealthy, and two legged, and there was more than one. His eyes flew open and he woke Mathaius, the only other man with them with any fighting experience. He had been sleeping closest to the dying fire when Syloren immediately pressed his left azure hand to the man's mouth, his right pressing his index finger to his own lips. He made a hand sign for two, maybe three, humanoids and then pointed down the hill.

Mathaius' heart started racing. As slowly and quietly as he could he sat up to get a better look down the hill.

As he did, a dead corpse's face flashed in front of him, a long wicked knife held in decaying bony hand raised to strike.

He knew the rotting face well.

"THADDEUS STOP! He shouted instinctively, his hand going up to catch the undead man's wrist in self-defense.

Everyone's eyes then popped open to see four Forsaken men wearing worn out black leather jerkins carrying long knives rushing at them and surrounding them from three sides. It was clear they expected it to be an easy kill. They only stopped in surprise when hearing one of the humans call out the name of one of their own.

"What?! Who are you, Alliance scum! How do you know my name?" The undead assassin questioned, backing off of his quarry only slightly.

"Thaddeus Jude, it's me, Mathaius! Mathaius Levi! I last saw you three night ago before I left to hit the Dabyrie place again." Mathaius told him. "It's me! I swear!"

"Mathaius?" Thaddeus questioned in confusion, anger in his expression. "The only Mathaius I know is Forsaken like us. He was captured and killed by those sword wielding, thieving farmers. He was my friend."

"Listen to my voice, Thaddeus. I've known you for twenty years. You came from Corin's Crossing. You had a sister before the plague, Marian. You used to talk about her sometimes. It's me, Mathaius, I swear! That man over there restored me!" He then told him, pointing to Jeshua who was on his feet like everyone else now. "He gave me back my living flesh. Look at my hands and my face! You want it too! I know you do, you've said as much to me!"

"That's impossible!" Thaddeus shouted. "And a pitiful story to use! I don't know how you know what you do, but nothing can cure the undeath!"

"Look at my face, Thaddeus! Really look at my face! It is me, Mathaius!" The man almost pleaded with him, though there didn't really appear to be fear in his expression, but sorrow.

One of the other Forsaken men then trained his dead eyes on Mathaius' features and studied them. After a minute, he said, "He does sort of look like him, Thad. We may need to take them to Tarrin Mill just in case. We can always gut them and send their bodies to Deathknell later. It'll make it easier if they can still walk on their own anyway. Don't know about the Night Elves and Draenei though. It never works with them. Maybe we should just do them here."

The one called Thaddeus stared at Mathaius long and hard, a look of hatred across his features. Then he turned his own milky white eyes to the more blue skinned members of the group. Finally, he decided, "No. Not yet. I doubt it, but they may have good intel we can use on troop numbers for the Dark Lady. We'll get it out of all of them at the Mill and then ship them off to the boneyards."

Looking them over, Thaddeus added, "Don't worry about getting Deathguards. They don't look like they can put up much of a fight, but if any of 'em run, drop 'em."

Jeshua's followers looked between him and the Forsaken men in terror. Their expressions were pleading with him, Do something! They're going to kill us!

Jeshua then spoke up and said, "We'll come willingly, there's no need to harm any of us here. As you said, it would be easier to let us walk then carry our corpses."

The eyes of his apprentices went wide with shock as they looked at him. He tried to return a comforting smile and nodded at them to follow along.

"Huh, the leader's got some shred of sense. That's refreshing." Thaddeus scoffed. "Does make it easier anyways." He then motioned with his knife for the men to start walking.

Overhead, another large bat winged shape flew across the moon's light keeping most of its form hidden in the shadows against the bright silvery object in the sky.

The Forsaken Rogues marched them all the rest of the night without stopping. Towards dawn, the dark shapes of buildings the eight didn't recognize arose as the undead town of Tarrin Mill took shape in their exhausted view. Rebuilt from the old human settlement of the same name, the older houses, the inn, the small chapel, and trade store had been rebuilt and repurposed by the Forsaken for their own needs.

None of the companions spoke on their long march. The expressions of virtually all of them were pained and fearful. All of them, that is, except Jeshua's. His expression was serious, but calm. Often he appeared to be looking at the one leading the procession; the one that Mathaius had called Thaddeus. When he did, his face appeared saddened and pained, but not scared.

The first one to notice Jeshua's lack of fear in the situation had been Amerian. His first instinct had been to run, but he couldn't. His worst fear had been realized and it froze him so completely that he could do nothing but stand there paralyzed and unable to move until the reddish blond haired human had placed his hand on his arm and whispered to him, "Peace, don't be afraid."

Calm returned to him, and so did the use of his limbs. He followed Jeshua's lead as did the others, though fear continued its grip on his stomach and chest.

Syloren's first instinct had been to fight. Demon Hunter or not, his muscles still remembered how to move and how to disarm simple thugs like this. No undead rogue could ever move as fast or as graceful as his own Kaldorei muscles could move whether he still possessed the demon's strength and speed or not. But then he too looked at his Shan'do. Jeshua appeared to shake his head slowly and mouth the words, "Trust me."

He had come this far trusting in the man who had given him back his life. He would go farther he decided.

The Rogues marched them into the center of the town, much to the amazement of the other Forsaken inhabitants.

"Look what we caught!" Thaddeus yelled out mockingly. "Fresh meat for the undertakers!"

"They don't look like much! Maybe you should throw them back!" One of the undead bystanders watching it returned. "I got dibs on that one's feet!" Another one jeered right behind him, pointing at Jeshua. "Maggots are about done with mine!"

"Alliance fools!" A large orc in armor marched up to meet them. "You shouldn't have come here!" His expression, as much as any of them could read the orc's expression, was surprisingly one of pity and frustration. Then to Jeshua he added in a low, deep voice, "Do you have any idea what these undead will do to you? I would wish it on no one."

"Southern Pigs!" The walking corpse of what might have been an attractive woman at one point threw garbage at them. "How does it feel?!"

"Caught them making a camp near Durnholde Keep, Krusk." Thaddeus told the Orc as he came to stand next to the heavily muscled, brownish green skinned warrior. "Figured they were either spies or fools. We can use their flesh either way."

Disgust came over the orc's face like a wave. He then asked, "What's your name, human?"

"Jeshua." Jeshua replied.

"I truly pity you then, Jeshua, or what's left after they're finished with you." Krusk replied, shivering as he did so, his eyes haunted by the thought. "There's nothing I can do to keep this from happening," he then said quietly, "you should never have set foot here."

He then motioned for a heavily armed and armor clad group of a dozen undead nearby, "Deathguards! Take them."

As the undead soldiers moved to take them into custody, immediately six shapes dropped as if appearing from nowhere out of the sky, cutting down the deathguards with wicked curved double bladed warglaives and leaving the now truly dead corpses on the ground where they fell. Glowing green tattoos covered their bare muscular chests, and their mouths were drawn back in snarls. Their obsidian black, ram-like horns gleamed in the sun opposite long tapered elven ears as they stretched out bat like wings, forming a protective circle around the eight prisoners. Their elven eyes gleemed emerald green with a fel demonic light.

Demon Hunters.

The undead backed off from the warriors immediately, both civilian and soldier alike, uncertainty on their faces at the new development.

"No one touches these until we've had our say with them!" A large night elf with dark braided hair surrounding curled black ram's horns snarled at the undead and orcs around them. He then turned towards the prisoners, almost all of them with mouths hanging open in shock at the appearance of the fel elves and said with an evil, fanged grin, "But if we don't like what we hear, I'll be sure to save you all the trouble myself."

"Elerian?" Syloren then spoke up, recognizing the man who spoke for the newcomers.

"I know that voice. Syloren?" The Demon Hunter responded, looking towards the Night Elf who had followed Jeshua. "Is that really you?"

"It is, brother." Syloren responded.

"I thought you lost to us when you left the enclave in Stormwind." Elerian told him. "I thought you had gone to die."

"I had." The Night Elf told him. "I lost control and the demon took over."

Elerian looked skeptically at his friend, "Go on. What happened?"

Syloren pointed towards Jeshua and said, "He did. He used the Light to cleanse me of the demon. When I woke up, I was myself again without any taint."

Elerian turned hard eyes towards the reddish blond haired, bearded younger man. "Is that the truth." He said, a statement not a question, appraising him. "You don't look like anything more than a homeless wretch that I could easily cut in two with a flick of my wrist."

Jeshua said nothing in response.

"Do it!" Thaddeus called out from where he stood next to what had been the town's chapel. "Do it and be done with it!"

"Maybe." Elerian responded looking into Jeshua's green eyes. "Unless you can give me a damn good reason why I shouldn't. Can you, vagabond?"

The tone of voice Elerian used was harsh and mocking, but there was something more in his eyes and the way he looked at Jeshua that was a longing, a pleading for something that he had thought he could never have.

"What is it you want me to do for you?" Jeshua asked him.

"I want to be able to go home." Elerian told him in a low voice. "I want to see Nighthaven again without fear of losing control and slaughtering everyone there."

"You fool! You're like us! You can't ever go home no matter how much you want to! They'll never trust you even if you try!" Thaddeus then shouted at him, somehow hearing the exchange between them. "This charlatan can do nothing to change that!"

Many of the Forsaken around him nodded their heads in agreement. "The Light has forsaken you just as it forsook us!" Thaddeus shouted again.

A look of despair and hopelessness crossed Elerian's face as he continued to look into Jeshua's.

Tears formed in Jeshua's eyes as he turned to face Thaddeus. The undead assassin's eyes burned with a rage and a seething hatred for him that defied all reason. "The Light forsakes no one, Thaddeus." He told him, never raising his voice even as it filled with emotion.

"Don't you get it?" The undead man asked incredulously. "The Light burns us now. We are hunted by you people! It's not just the Light, fool! Everyone has forsaken us! What families we had left! Our supposed friends and allies in the south! Where were they when the Scourge came? Where were they when we needed them the most? Where are they now? Plotting to destroy every one of us! I know! I saw the intelligence myself from the Alliance's own battle plans at Refuge Point. The very Light itself has abandoned us to the Shadow! No one can change that!"

With tears in his eyes, Jeshua replied, emotion choking his voice so that he could barely speak, "No! The Light forsakes no one! It calls everyone back into its healing embrace!"

"Just words from a fraud trying to save his own skin and bones for himself." Thaddeus taunted.

Jeshua then cried out to all of them so the entire town could hear him, "The Light wants to shine on and within all of you. It wants to redeem you and call you its own! The Light has sent you a message!"

"And what message is that, vagabond?" The undead man asked, scoffing.

"Me." Jeshua replied.

He then dropped to one knee and prayed aloud to the Light so everyone could hear him, "Sire, I know you sent me and always hear me. I know you want to shine within these as well and see their salvation and not their destruction. Hear me now, show them who you are and send your purity and healing upon them. All of them."

"Wait, what are you doing?" Thaddeus questioned, becoming alarmed.

Jeshua then placed the palm of his right hand flat against the ground of Tarrin Mill. Immediately streams of pure, holy, radiant Light flowed from his fingertips and raced across the undead town enveloping and encompassing every Forsaken and Demon Hunter it encountered until the whole settlement was engulfed in the Light's embrace. Dark ram's horns and bat's wings burned away. Dead and rotting skin mended. Hearts began to beat again as the Light raced around the circumference of the town and consumed every afflicted being there.

His followers watched stunned at the transformation taking place as the darkness and shadow was burned away from the town and banished as though the sun itself had descended to Azeroth's surface and kissed it passionately.

It was over in a matter of seconds, but when it faded, those soldiers which lay dead on the ground by Illidari blades were standing upright, alive and whole. Those Forsaken and undead held beating hearts and fully restored, living flesh. Those Illidari which had been now stood as purified Kaldorei and Sindorei, whole and free of the demonic taint.

"The Light abandons no one." Jeshua repeated, his expression pained, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I was sent to show you that."

Thaddeus looked at his own hands. Fine blond hairs covered the backs of them. The skin had been mended and was healthy. He pressed his hand to his chest and felt a beat there. The world seemed to stop as he collapsed to his knees in shock. His mouth hung open, unable to speak the word it was trying to form, "How?"

The Orc soldiers that had been in among the undead froze where they were as they suddenly found themselves surrounded by living, breathing humans and elves. A few of them drew their axes and swords from where they hung against their armor, waiting for their commander's signal to act, but their expressions were just as stunned as everyone else's.

"What do we do, commander?" One of the orcs was able to articulate.

Krusk just stared in disbelief at the homeless human vagabond. He had never in his lifetime seen power such as this from anyone. No mage, no priest, no warlock had ever done what he had just witnessed.

Krusk raised his right hand in a gesture that told them to hold where they were for the moment and not act. Looking into Jeshua's eyes, he realized any aggressive move now would be both honorless and pointless. He could not fight against such power with a mere axe.

"We do our duty. We report to the warchief. We tell her what has happened here. We let her deal with it." Krusk then answered, nodding in respect to Jeshua. He then motioned again with his hand for his troops to follow him. "Come."