XIII - Echoes
Bolvar and Kel'thuzad were marching towards the ruins of Lordaeron.
"What have you achieved in my absence?" Bolvar asked, even though he could read the lich's mind.
Kel'thuzad was delighted to answer. "Expanding my knowledge, of course. The Book of Medivh has proved more enlightening than I had previously thought. It is beyond mortal understanding."
"The Cult?"
The charred landscape drew closer. "Fulfilling its purpose, as expected. Our forces feed on conflict, as you already know, my king, thus the more the living battle each other, the better we will fare." He paused. "The seeds have been planted, sire. Only time will tell."
Firemaw was seething.
He and his cult are invaluable to us. Do not let your mortal desires get the best of you.
The dark grass gave way to scorched earth, an endless desolation that reminded Bolvar of the frozen wastes of Northrend. Burnt corpses welcomed them as they strode through a village, the remains of an infernal lying beside a crumbling wall.
Another demonic construct crashed into what had once been a tavern and charged towards them, the ground shaking. Kel'thuzad flicked his fingers and the infernal perished in an instant, its body frozen cold.
"She's following us."
"I know."
"Shall I put an end to her?"
"Let her be, she poses no threat to us."
Kel'thuzad nodded. "As you say, my king."
Bolvar watched the land through Galakrond's eyes and saw how far the demons' corruption had spread. "They're heading south."
"To the Arathi Highlands, yes." They stumbled across a hole where an explosion had taken place, bones scattered in all directions. "It is there that the living will make their stand."
"What about Gilneas? It reeks of fel magic."
Kel'thuzad rubbed his chin thoughtfully, the ground freezing beneath him. "It ought to be deserted, but perhaps the Legion claimed it during its march. It could be worth investigating, but you must make haste, my king, for every second that passes the death toll rises and the end of this world draws closer."
They pressed on in silence. There was no grass, no wildlife, not one thing that could be deemed alive, only fire and death. As ash began to fall Bolvar saw a town looming in the distance, flashes in the sky highlighting a barely standing clock tower. He sped up his pace, striding past fires, ruins and the corpses of those who had not fled the city in time. Bolvar came to a stop right in front of the Ruins of Lordaeron, a sickly wind blowing against him.
"Return to the army and start marching. More troops will soon be joining our ranks."
Kel'thuzad bowed. "As the Lich King commands. What will you do instead, my king?"
"I'll go inside by myself. I sense...a presence."
Kel'thuzad took his leave without uttering a word. Bolvar shifted his gaze to the city and headed inside. A large arched entrance towered over him as he entered, the stone battered and weathered. The city itself had been massive before its fall but now its grandeur, its beauty and its glorious history were just a mere memory. All that could remind the world of what Lordaeron had once been was its palace, visible from anywhere in the ruins, the dim light concealing whatever cracks or holes it bore.
Bolvar spotted the derelict houses, stables, taverns and other buildings, including a church. There were countless fires here as well, and countless bones. He suddenly turned, an eerie silence pervading his surroundings.
"Light save us."
Ten ghostly humans rushed to the palace.
"HEL—"
A sword pierced a man and then a woman screamed as her body was being torn apart.
"We must warn the king!"
A father waved his wife and his children away. "Take them out of the city! Go! I'll join you later!"
As Bolvar continued walking more screams filled the air.
"The prince has gone mad!"
"King Terenas is dead!"
"Mommy!"
Two more spirits appeared, almost identical in appearance. "You can't slow down now! Come on!"
"Where's Father?"
"I don't know, jus—"
One fell to the ground, lifeless.
"Hegon? HEG—"
The other brother met the same fate. Bolvar stood watching as the past unfolded before him, echoes of the fate that befell the citizens of Lordaeron.
The spirits are restless, Ner'zhul said.
Dozens of more spirits relived the final moments of their lives and yet soon after Bolvar saw events that had occurred not long ago, deaths at the hands of an unseen threat. He saw undead men and women clad in clothes running left and right.
These are Sylvanas' people.
One steamed and moaned, his eyes slowly starting to glow like coals as he fell to his knees. He swung wildly at thin air and rose. He fell a second time and roared, his body igniting.
And he exploded, destroying other undead close to him. One spirit who had been spared from the explosion found herself steaming and moaning soon after. She burst into flames and spread her affliction to those around her.
Bolvar had paid the spirits so much attention that he hadn't realised he had already reached the palace. He saw Arthas striding towards the throne room, thousands of petals raining over him, people clapping, cheering and hollering. He huffed and squeezed Firemaw. Then he took a deep breath, relaxed his grip and walked forwards.
Unlike Arthas, Bolvar had no need to push doors to enter. He stepped onto the marble floor, the seal of Lordaeron in the middle of it all and, at the far end of the room, sat the throne.
"What are you doing, my son?"
"Succeeding you...Father."
A peal of thunder and light beamed through the hole in the ceiling and into the room. A ghostly hue enveloped his surroundings and all that was missing reappeared, all that was broken was whole again.
"My line had always ruled with wisdom and strength, yet here I am, the last king of Lordaeron, a lingering ghost, perchance to repent, perchance to mourn, perchance to heal."
Bolvar stared at King Terenas II sitting on the throne, one of the spikes on his crown missing. "King Terenas."
"It is good to see you again, Highlord Fordragon, though we meet in dire times, as in the past."
"Was it you who I sensed?"
"Aye, Highlord Fordragon, aye." Terenas sighed. "It was only after the helm had been placed on your head that I had realised the severity of my mistake. We were all deceived, Highlord Fordragon, and most of all, I was deceived. If it hadn't been for me, perhaps you would not have to bear this curse." He paused and glanced at the helm with contempt. "You have my apologies, Highlord Fordragon. Unfortunately a dead man's apology won't change your fate."
"Why are you here?"
"There is still hope for this world, for this land, for this forgotten kingdom, for my bloodline.
"My son didn't heed my counsel and I wasn't wise enough to heed the prophet's counsel, yet I have learnt, Highlord Fordragon, and now I wish to do my part in this conflict, for it was also my ignorance and arrogance that had a hand in dooming us all. You must persist in your quest, Highlord Fordragon, for you are the only one who can turn the tide of war in our favour."
Bolvar remembered the vision.
"I only have one request," Terenas continued. "The taint of foul magic has seeped deep into the foundations of this city. Cleanse it, Highlord Fodragon, and put the tormented spirits to rest, so that new life can be breathed into these ruins."
Bolvar nodded.
"Head below into the defiled crypts of my ancestors. It is there that you must purify the corruption."
And thus Bolvar made his way into the Undercity, the various corridors, rooms and passages somehow familiar. Here there were the signs of both past and recent catastrophes and here the spirits wandered, longing for peace, showing him their final moments. Across a corridor he went, its walls covered in soot, dozens of spirits fleeing in despair. Then he saw two undead exploding and as their forms faded away he caught glimpse of two bony hands interlocked. The farther down he went, the thicker and fouler the air grew. Pools and rivers of green fluid were scattered around the Undercity, bubbling and glowing.
"They're in the crypts!"
"Head for the sewers!"
A clash of swords. "Lordaeron will not fall!"
Then a guard perished and soon after his body kicked and jerked as he was raised into undeath.
"Faster! Faster!"
"It's all lost."
Bolvar crossed a bridge, strode through an arched doorway and as he stood in the middle of a large crypt, the stone beneath him flat and rough-hewn. He looked at the vaulted ceiling and at the tombs of the forgotten kings of Lordaeron, their plaques barely readable, behind which their respective statues could be found in arched niches, watching him in quiet contemplation.
Bolvar stared at his sword, at its runes, at the fiery energy radiating from it. He straightened his back and grasped its hilt with both hands. He struck the floor once.
The tip of his blade sent out a ringing sound that bounced off the walls, the ceiling, the floor and any other surface in the area. He struck the floor again, Firemaw's runes glowing softly. A third strike and the sound echoed throughout the crypts. A fourth and the whole Undercity vibrated. A fifth and Firemaw was singing. Bolvar lifted his sword into the air and brought it down for the sixth and final time.
A massive wave of fire sped outwards, surging beyond the crypt he was in, beyond the innermost part of the underground city, through dungeons and past tombs while all the green fluid sizzled and evaporated, all that was corrupted purified, all that was wicked eradicated until the fire poured out of every crack, hole, every passage and doorway, and washed over the land above.
The light died down and the darkness returned. A cool air hissed through the royal crypts, carrying no traces of smoke, demonic magic or death. Bolvar exhaled.
When he finally emerged out of the underground city Terenas was still in the throne room, his face solemn yet somewhat visibly pleased.
"You have my thanks, Highlord Fordragon. No foul evil shall ever taint these lands again."
"What will you do now?"
"I shall watch over my daughter, as I've done ever since my son perished, and see to it that my kingdom is restored. She will rule wisely...I know that."
Bolvar nodded.
"Remember, Highlord Fordragon. The sword that hangs above our heads is heavy and sharp, the thread that holds it thin and worn, and it could fall when we least expect it, even in our moments of glory and peace. Such is the burden of kings.
He turned to leave.
"Do not harbour hatred against my son, Highlord Fordragon." Terenas' voice brought him to a halt. "I know what he did, but he hadn't always been like that. He was...different. He...he was a good boy."
Bolvar glanced backwards and then left the throne room.
Bolvar traversed the now cleansed ruins of Lordaeron.
Silence had fallen ever since the spirits had been put to rest. All the fires ravaging the city had been put out and the black pillars of smoke had vanished. A steady drizzle had accompanied him ever since he had left the throne room, Bolvar's molten body vaporising any raindrop that touched him. He stopped, buildings that had gone to rack and ruin all around him.
He caught an arrow with his left hand, melted it and turned. Another arrow cut through the air. He stepped aside to dodge it and spotted a pale elf dashing behind a wall. She rapidly fired two more arrows, leapt through a window and fired again, an arrow whizzing through a hole in another wall. Bolvar dodged the first two with ease and deflected the third. He walked towards her. "I have grown really tired of you, Sylvanas," he said, his voice matching sometimes Ner'zhul's and sometimes Bolvar's.
She twanged her bow. Bolvar moved slightly, the arrow flying over his shoulder. Unburnt, Bolvar thought as he saw her clearly. If the purifying flames had reached the surface and she had been waiting for him all along, her body would've surely borne the marks.
A barrage of arrows. He thrust his hand upwards and a torrent of fire burst out of the ground and turned them into ash. Then he shifted his eyes to an arrow infused with dark magic, its tip black as night. This time he thrust his hand forwards and the arrow exploded into a cloud of fire and shadow.
Bolvar glanced at the sky and focused on Sylvanas again. She shot multiple times, her skill with the bow unmatched, her agility unparalleled. Yet the Lich King advanced, a shockwave making her arrows fall to the ground with a dull sound. She emerged from cover and aimed.
Sylvanas suddenly swayed and grasped her head, shaking it repeatedly. "You will not break me!" She clenched her teeth and fired.
Bolvar destroyed the arrow that had almost found its mark and laid siege to her mind. She ran towards another building, slowing briefly before managing to keep her wits about her.
"You are no different than him!" She fired. "You will enslave us all!" She fired two arrows at once, both leaving a shadowy trail in their path.
For a moment Bolvar saw her face clearly and what at first he thought were tears turned out to be where she had dug her nails.
"I have endured far more than you could ever possibly imagine!" Her arrows hissed past him. "You will not defile my mind!" She slid across the floor, knocked an arrow and released the string.
Galakrond swooped down and breathed fire. Sylvanas threw herself aside as she was almost incinerated and scrambled to her feet, a ring of flames sealing her and the Lich King off from the rest of the world.
She reached for her dagger as Bolvar's fingers appeared right in front of her eyes. Bolvar slammed her head against a wall, the stone cracking. She roared, dropping her dagger, her fury unquenched, her will unbroken. It was only what Bolvar did next that made Sylvanas feel true fear.
"Do not think that I've forgotten about them." Her val'kyr coalesced nearby, wailing, fiery chains restraining them.
"You think I don't know what's coming?" She kicked. "I know death better than you!"
Bolvar studied her as she struggled to free herself, her soul naked before him. Everything she had ever done and thought of doing was there for him to see, every single memory she cherished or wished she'd forget playing in his mind, the merriment, the tranquillity, the hatred, the rage, the despair, he felt it all.
"Silvy, Silvy, I want to play!"
"Stop calling me like that, Vereesa."
Time fast-forwarded to her days as an adolescent as she strolled through the elven woods with her sisters.
"Isn't he cute?"
"You should talk to him, Alleria."
"Sylvanas should!"
"You're the eldest! You should!"
As they burst into laughter the scene changed.
"I'll join the Rangers."
"Are you sure about it?"
"Yes, Lirath, I am."
"I have the feeling Vereesa will do the same. You three better not shoot at me."
"We'll try."
"Perhaps one day I'll join the Rangers."
And all the other memories flooded his mind.
"Lirath...Lirath is dead."
"I will avenge him, sisters, I promise you, I will."
"I now pronounce you, Ranger-General of Silvermoon."
"May this bow serve you well, Sylvanas Windrunner."
"We must stay together, sisters."
"Always."
"Always."
"Shindu fallah nah! Fall back to the second gate! Fall back!"
"For Quel'Thalas!"
"Finish it! I deserve...a clean death."
He heard a deafening scream.
"What joy is there in this curse? We are still undead, sister—still monstrosities. What are we if not slaves to this torment?"
"The capital city is ours, but we are no longer part of the Scourge. From here on out, we shall be known as the Forsaken. We will find our own path in this world, dreadlord... and slaughter anyone who stands in our way."
"Arthas will pay."
Black smoke rose from Lordaeron and the last thing Bolvar saw was Sylvanas clawing her cheeks in despair. At long last, he spoke. "Then perhaps it is time you knew life."
The val'kyrs shrieked as they burnt away and their life force flowed past Bolvar, swirling across his arm and into Sylvanas. The wall cracked even further as more energy coursed through his arm, gale winds pushing away anything around them. Sylvanas screamed, kicking and thrashing like a wild beast. Tiny rocks bounced up and down as the ground shook and her body began to transform, her pale skin regaining colour, her cracked lips becoming smooth and soft, her white hair suddenly turning blonde like the light of the sun, the bloody red in her eyes giving way to a peaceful blue.
Bolvar released his grip and stepped back as she fell into a puddle of water, weeping, sobbing, real tears sliding down her cheeks. She stared at her own reflection in the puddle, panting, her heart beating like a war drum.
"What...what have you done to me?" she managed to say, her voice feeble and broken.
The ring of fire dwindled into nothingness. "I have given you back what Arthas took from you. Your destiny is in your own hands now. May those scars always remind you who you truly are. " Galakrond landed nearby. "Go now, return to your people...and live."
Bolvar left Sylvanas lying on the ground, weeping uncontrollably, embracing herself as she shivered. Galakrond lowered his head as he climbed on top of him.
You were too kind, Fordragon. Death would've been a much more fitting gift.
"Death is too merciful. Sometimes living with the consequences of your actions is far more worse than death."
It won't change her fate in the afterlife.
"No, perhaps it won't, but her fate is not sealed yet," Bolvar replied as Galakrond took to the skies. "She can still save herself."
To think that one day you'd be the one to lecture me, Fordragon.
Notes:
- From now on I'll be using horizontal lines to separate paragraphs because the formatting is just terrible here.- As I've said multiple times, the formatting here isn't great which might make reading this confusing and/or unpleasant at times. Thus, I suggest you read this on DeviantART where I think it looks much better.
- This is also on MMO-Champion in the Role Playing section.
- I hope you like the whole conversation between Terenas and Bolvar. Even though Frostmourne was shattered, I thought it would be far more interesting to have him linger in the ruins of his kingdom and watch over his daughter (Calia won't be like the character that they'll add in Legion. In this work of fanfiction she's more...fierce and perhaps...queenly."
- I hope everything doesn't seem to happen to quickly.
- If you're fans of the Forsaken perhaps you might not enjoy their fate (while they lost their city, quite a few of them managed to survive and flee to safety).
- Some of you might not like how Sylvanas behaves (perhaps she might seem excessively crazy, weak or reckless) but I thought it was appropriate considering what happened. She lost Silvermoon once, and now she's lost the Undercity and had to witness (again) the death of her people.
- I don't think that what Bolvar ultimately does to her is out of place or absurd, even. With his level of power and with the val'kyr sacrifice I think he'd be able to pull something like that off.
- The end draws near.
Other:
It would mean the world to me if you took a look at the two novellas I self-published, Mark & Karm and The Dragon's Roar. Both of them can be found on Amazon. My author name is Alexander A. Nastasi. Any support is truly appreciated.
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