CHAPTER 10

That great power; he had achieved it. And it felt so good. It felt so exiting. In the first few days of his new…condition…his activities were limited to simple "exercise": using his mere hand and using his mind he brought lifeless corpses back to the sinful world: Ice Trolls and the Yeti, Dwarves and Nerubians. Magnificent, impressive, epic, amusing—one would find many words in order to describe such experience. Although blind, he had seen, with the help of his newfound powers, things beyond the comprehension of any living being and had found out knowledge hidden from others. Astonishing! But even more astonishing was that he was capable of doing more, much, much more. That was only training, a short introduction to the use of his full potential. Yet he still craved for more; he knew that he was capable of doing more and wanted to prove it to himself…soon he began practicing on the fallen Blue Dragonblight. It was just like he had thought it would be—splendid. The once mighty creatures rose to the skies once again. But it was certainly not the limit of his abilities; he simply had to learn. Indeed he was one of the most powerful beings in the world.

Who could have ever thought that a hopeless blind prisoner, trapped in a cell for ten thousand years, would one day rise to such great heights? Nobody! Never! He, Illidan Stormrage, had outmaneuvered fate itself!

The Second Lich King stood up from his icy throne, his head turned to the direction of Kalimbdor, his former home, his former prison. There, in the shadows of Ashenvale forest, life played under different rules, rules that he broke three times: when he first aided the Burning Legion millennia before, when he consumed the power of the skull of Gul'Dan, and, most recently, when he inherited Ner'Zhul's kingdom of the damned. That society would never allow him to come back, and he did not want to go back. He was satisfied the way he was—he had created a new society and had declared new rules in Outland and Northrend, the Plaguelands and Quel'Thalas, thus merging the impossible, Life and Undeath themselves. And perhaps the most pleasant thing, in a way, was that only his will kept such a diverse realm together. He had founded a society where his name was pronounced with great respect, not great hatred. No, there was nothing in Kalimbdor to go back to!

Or was there? Inside his warped mind an image appeared. He saw the beautiful features of a woman as though he had regained his sight. He wanted to reach out, to put his hand on her shoulder, to touch her long hair…but to no avail. He knew that if he tried, that image would simply melt like it had done before. Tyrande Whisperwind; he loved her. The memory of her had often been with Illidan Stormrage, but it was the first time it came to Illidan the Lich King. Perhaps it was an effect of Malfurion's "visit" the day before? Yes, Illidan was beyond many things, but he was not beyond emotions. But was that right? How could a wielder of power so great act as a pathetic slave of his misfortunate love life?! Was the terrible Lord of the Scourge supposed to be tortured by such feelings? The answer was positive: though he ruled the Undead, he was still living. That explained everything. But still…

He shook his head, trying to make the vision depart. No, their paths would not cross again. Or would they? He had little chance of defeating Arthas on that fateful day, when the two enemies met for a final showdown, but still emerged as the victor. So maybe there was hope after all? Tyrande. She would have made a great Queen…

"Enough!" Illidan shouted, hoping that such a method would finally help him clear his mind, "I have more important problems to worry about!"

The beautiful image dissolved—the slave regained his freedom.

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Kael'Thas Sunstrider cursed in his mother tongue. Cold alone was enough to drive a person mad in the damned land called Northrend. Even his long, thick scarlet robe could not provide protection from it. It was a terrible foe to the master of the magic of fire. He had left the encampment to concentrate on his thoughts and, most importantly, to avoid seeing those miserable Undead that he despised so much and whose base bordered his. Every day he was forced to see ghouls, crypt fiends, and other scum going back and forth through HIS camp. Sometimes he thought those were spies sent by his new allies Kel'Thuzad and Anub'arak to keep an eye on the Blood Elves. And to think he used to believe that this "stay" would be a short-lasting one?! That they would leave with the destruction of the Lich King.

He turned his head and gazed at the tall icy spire of the Icecrown, his long blond hair being fiercely waved by the wind. But all had gone differently, and the Illidari had been stuck there for more than a month, but not because of some unforeseen disaster. It was due to Illidan's irrational behavior. It was more than a month before when the Blood Elf Prince first began to lose faith in the Demon Hunter. It was as though his Lord had been replaced by somebody else. Firstly, instead of destroying the Scourge, Illidan took over. Secondly, driven by some unknown thought, he spared Arthas, the man—no, not a man, a creature—responsible for the destruction of the Blood Mage's homeland. And thirdly, joined forces with none other than Kel'Thuzad, Kael's former colleague and another shadow behind the Elven tragedy. If he had not known better, he would have sworn that Illidan's aim was to irritate him. But he knew that was not the case. The influence of the Lich King's power had changed Illidan…to worse. And it was that change what made the future of the Blood Elven allegiance to the half-demon questionable…

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of snow being crushed under heavy boots behind him. He turned around to see a spellbreaker moving towards him.

"My Prince," he said, stopping, "Lord Illidan wishes to see you."

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A large tent located in the middle of Illidan's encampment near the northern Obelisk of the Icecrown, which served as a place of meeting of the leaders of the faction, was getting nearer and nearer. He could see the two banners of the Illidari that sentinelled the entrance. Three more minutes, and he would be inside.

"Ah, Prince Kael, we have been waiting for you." He heard a deep voice greeting him as soon as he entered, the voice of Illidan Stormrage. Indeed, he became the last to arrive; the other members of the Illidari elite—Lady Vashj, Kel'Thuzad, and Illidan himself—had already been there.

The tent's interior was really modest—no furniture inside. And it was not needed at all, for unlike the Alliance with its complex procedures that technically turned meetings into real ceremonies, the Illidari way was far simpler…

"Greetings, everybody," Kael'Thas replied, trying to make the best fake smile appear on his face. Though he had found Vashj a priceless ally, his relations with Kel'Thuzad, whom he had known since his studies in Dalaran, were much worse. And Illidan…he was an exclusive case, but at that moment there was no other option.

"Let us begin," said the Lord of Outland. "My brother's visit the day before has reminded me to arrange this meeting in order to discuss our positions worldwide."

Malfurion. Illidan had predicted his arrival. But when the Archdruid was brought as a prisoner to the Icecrown, the Prince was not among those who came to see him—they had fought the Scourge together, and it would have been a humiliating experience if the Night Elf had seen him amidst their common enemies.

"And although I had predicted that he would come, finding out WHO gave him the information about us was above my abilities," the leader continued, raising his voice in the middle of the statement, "but most importantly, WHY and WHAT GAME is somebody playing with us?!" he raised his hands to chest level and clenched his fists.

"Lord Illidan, maybe it was the Death Knight?" the Naga Sea Witch suggested.

"Arthas? In this case I cannot deny it, yet at the same time it seems highly unlikely," Illidan made a step closer to the Naga, "no matter, I will find it out eventually. But now Kel'Thuzad will describe the situation in the Eastern Kingdoms, our most unstable frontier."

Kael found the Lich's speech quite informative; he indeed had full understanding of the events that took place in the area within the last several months—a series of blunders and defeats at the hands of the Forsaken.

"I suggest that a force should be sent to the Plaguelands in order to help Baron Rivendare vanquish the rebels." He concluded his description with a suggestion and turned to his master. "Lord Illidan?" strangely, the Prince noticed surprise in the Lich's voice.

He looked at the half-demon and…It was hard to describe his pose: his head bowed, he had leaned in such a way that it was a wonder he could still stand. Something was amiss.

"Lord Illidan?" the trio asked in unison.

"My powers, my condition…" he whispered, heavily breathing, "…something…is not right…"

He felt as if he was tortured by some unknown force, that every part of his being was subject to torment. It was impossible to suggest the amount of pain he was receiving. He would have preferred to spend another ten thousand years locked in a cell to the horror he was experiencing.

"No, this cannot be, I am a half-demon, I am…" he muttered, maddened with pain, "…the Lich King…"

With that he fell to the ground, consciousness leaving him.