Warriors fight. Minions of mindless masters mingle with the mess of brave fighters. My eyes roll side to side. I take in the whole fight while I lay here. I take in the whole scene as I rest here. I take it all in.

We are losing.

Orcs fight bravely, trolls thrust spears tenaciously, Tauren stomp and crush enemies honorably. But they are not enough. No, not all of them can possibly defeat the numbers of scourge that trample this field; that disgrace this place.

However, no scourge dare come to where I lay. None dare to come challenge the supremacy of that which is Nathanos' and mine. They have no plan to come to this pocket, no need to come to this near empty space. No need.

Only the dead lay here.

Nathanos claws at my flesh still. All hope lost from his eyes. Ringing fills the void that is my mind. I cannot hear even my own voices. Silence, silence besides the squeal of tormenting cries; the same calls that bring a sensation of freezing fingers across my body.

So cold, so…very…cold…

Only the dead lay here.

The ringing intensifies. It is almost as bad as when I was upon the table in Thrall's chambers. That seems so long ago. Almost feels as if years have passed since that moment. Feels as if all that happened there…was…so…long…ago…

All the very same besides this rapidly increasing call. It grows louder than before. Never was it this bad. Never. I cannot focus. But there is no need to focus. Just relax. Breathe, hope, breathe.

Ringing grows.

This must be the last sound all those who make their residence in the soil hear. Such a horrific sound. So…unsettling. So…chilling. The world blurs. All the warriors upon the field vanish slowly; their cries silenced by the ring. Nathanos' face all but a distant memory.

Vengeance

A voice. An unknown voice.

Death.

I do not know that voice, or this one.

Un-resting!

Who…who are you?

Vengeance.

The chiming quiets…with it…come these voices. All these voices. Too many to comprehend. Too many to take it. Too many…

Destroy

Lead us

To the ruins

They all speak. Thousands of muffled voices overwhelming themselves. Overwhelming me. Overwhelming the chill, yet unable to remove it. Far too cold…far too…cold…

Only…

Vengeance

The…

Death

Dead…

Un-resting

Lay…

Vengeance! Death! War!

Here…

Release us…

Alone, upon these broken grounds. Alone, upon this cold, hard soil. Alone…

He is never alone.

You…

He was never alone. He always had us to accompany him.

You left me…you left me…left me to the chill and chime of death.

He needs to listen. All the ringing, all the confusion, all the voices of the many. Unheard even by the one they tried to reach for so long, unheard by their one…hope.

What…what are you…talking…about…?

He needs to relax. He needs to calm his soul. The time is now. The time we have waited for…is now. Relax, let the wings of winds fate draw you in. Let it cool your skin and let it warm your spirit. The time is now. We are free.

Yes…the time is now. Close your eyes, Hope. Let the slow growing warmth spread through your veins.

Vengeance, death! Release us!

Such a feeling. Such a time. Come, death, wash over this fool and let it be done. Let your grim grasp engulf my soul. Let the breeze brush my skin. Wait…my skin. I can feel. What is happening?!

He needs to let the warmth revive his soul. Let the holy power cleanse your body of the evil!

Suddenly, a burst of energy ripples through my flesh. Warmth wipes the tormenting chill from my body. The same warmth that runs hurriedly through my veins and brings strength to my fading body. It is then I notice something pressed firmly, yet loosely against my wound.

I hear Nathanos' voice, "What…what in the world?!"

My head jerks to the side. Nathanos stands on his feet. He takes steps away from me. An expression of horror, confusion, and shock grips his face. His head shakes in disbelief as he gawks awkwardly upon me.

His mouth quivers as he speaks, "What…what…in…the…world…?"

Out of the corner of my eye I catch sight of something unusual. Something unusual rests calmly against my flesh. Something of a misty, grayish matter rests warmly against a wound of a thousand deaths. From it, a light, a sparkling heaven of light and beauty radiates perfectly.

Before I can turn my head, a voice I have become accustomed to speaks to me, "He has set us free. He…is now free."

Lost in awe, the voice that once rang in my head now speaks to me from outside. It doesn't seem possible. How can it be?!

Grass tickles the back of the neck as my head shifts direction. My eyes absorb the sight upon my chest. Light pulsates in a circular fashion. Air ripples around a gray limb. An ashy mist radiates towards the splendidly dark skies.

The light lingers around my body. Tendrils of leaping magic bounce like rabbits across the arm and up to the massive, murky body. A thick, darkish armor rests firmly upon the shoulders. This armor extends downwards across the entire torso and rises to the chin.

Trails of grayed hair bushel finely from the well defined, squared chin and spread upwards to a smirking pair of light gray lips. A line of fine hair forms a mustache of a well-groomed variety. Above rests a pair of eyes. Eyes that gleam of grand glory. Eyes that release from them a mystically mesmerizing yellow pulse. A glow that calms the soul and guides the ghostly dead.

A hero rests before me, a warrior of the lost. A spirit of a man.

The hair upon the top of his shakes gently. Shakes all the way down to the tip of the long, rather elegant ponytail as he moves his head slightly, "Rise, champion of the lost. Rise!"

Everything quakes. Ringing flows through my mind. My body begins to shake and rock. Lifting upwards, my torso moves from the cold, grasping ground. It feels as if a thousand arms give me aid. It feels as if a thousand spirits chant to me. It feels as if the world braces me upon thin air.

I cannot help but gaze downward. The figure no longer kneels before me, but now stands firmly to my side. My body and all begin to move to an upright position. As I scan myself, I notice the light that once grew from his arm now pulses wildly upon my flesh. The same light trickles from my feet and flows to the ground below.

No longer touching the soil, my body rises to the skies.

A feeling unlike anything I have ever experienced before builds in my chest. Warm, tingling energy ripples in methodical pulses throughout my charged being. The glow burns brighter than before. The cries chant louder.

Air swells at my sides, it swells at my feet. It swells at all angles. Energy courses my veins with force of unimaginable quality. The light…it grows. Brighter…brighter.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, an explosion of magical proportions bursts from my person.

Light cones in all directions. Grass bends and whips to the might. Air is stirred into an angry torrent. Ground quakes and runs from me with great haste. Once oblivious undead take sight, but refuse to advance. An explosion of light. An explosion…of hope…

A glow hangs from my body. Voices yell to me. One speaks to me, "You are free, Hope Blackwood!"

I rotate my head slightly. A thin haze of golden air climbs from the ground into a pillar around my being. The human man smiles and braces a large, bulky sword in his right hand, "For too long you were trapped, Hope. For too long the fear of the unknown was sealed within you!"

My mouth opens gently and I speak, "Who are you?"

He chuckles gently to himself before he shakes his head, "I am the failure of lost man. I am the fool of a hero. I am the darkness of a once great legend." He shakes his head another time, "Upon the frozen lands of Northrend, I succumbed to the voices within my head. I gave into the sinister call. I became what I hated."

Looking away he appears to hide something within himself before peering back at me, "My name is L'oren Shay Tracks, former paladin of the Silver Hand. I took orders only from Lord Tirion Fordring himself…"

He pauses as something returns to his mind, "We were like brothers…and on the soils of the dark lands… I failed him. I led armies of death knights upon the living. I commanded them. I trained them."

His head shakes side to side in disbelief, "Abused to breaking, my body fell against the great Nerubian armies long before your time. But I was not free…no…he trapped me within your unborn body. Placed me within your soul before it even escaped the twisting nether."

He raises his sword, "But now…now I am free once again! The seal your father put upon your body to prevent that which he feared also encased you within your own body. But now, with the aid of the dark knights themselves, the evil seal has been broken! You are free! We are free!"

Confusion rushes through my head. He has said so much. I look to him with an expression of utter daze. He laughs before looking to me, "Ah yes, you are obviously lost, but I expect as much."

His expression intensifies as he turns to me, "Do not worry, Hope, you will know soon enough, but now…now you must embrace your true power!"

A short time lapses as he repositions himself towards me, "Hope Blackwood, the Lich King built you as a weapon of damnation! Your father feared what you may become and turned you into a prison, but both forgot one thing…"

He reaches over and grabs my arm, "You were born within the holy ground of Light's Hope Chapel. The light gave you your true power. The light guided you. And now, you have led yourself towards the path of becoming a force of true holiness!"

A bright glow ripples from his arm and into my body, "The souls of a thousand tormented spirits have waited for this moment! And you shall not disappoint! You shall not fail!"

Another explosion. Light courses the ground and scatters in all directions. My head rocks back. Light soars upwards into what seems like a limitless pillar of salvation. Instantly my head flies forward.

Sound washes my body into confusion, but his voice I can still hear, "From the wake of a thousand death gates tearing into the fabric of this universe, a single source of light was left to linger. Left to linger within a lonely existence. It was when you were born, it found itself free to wander, yet sadly still imprisoned within your flesh."

The beam pulsates and vibrates and he continues, "Now, with the seal crushed and your soul released, the energy of the one true 'Hope gate' can be released!"

Before me, a single spark bursts from my body and flies towards the ground. My eyes lock with the dancing dot until it finally collides with the soil. A flash of light bursts from the spot. Multiple streams of tormented, hazy air form into spiky whips of cloudy fury. Each airy entity dances with the other, as if teasing each other in some mystical fashion.

Within seconds the streaks of mist spiral into the air and collide together, exploding into a small pocket of light and darkened smog. What happens next can only be described as unbelievable. A figure, grayed and foggy as the paladin beside me, emerges from the cloud.

Spiny ears ripple out from the sides of his head. A pointy nose runs from his face while two rows of once bright teeth reveal themselves. It is a memory of a past not so long ago, and of a dream hours prior.

He smiles at me and speaks, "I remember you, Hope Blackwood."

Boomer twists in his spot as he examines himself. A fine blade runs from his hands. He smiles at me as he speaks, "They told me not to head towards the light, but…I knew better."

Unbelievable. Impossible. You have only begun to see.

Suddenly the paladin from my side cries to me, "Brothers, warriors, the time is now! Come forth, come forth and bring justice for the crimes brought against you!"

My body reels uncontrollably. A pulse of energy ripples from my body. My limbs twist back to breaking, but lock short. Flashes of cloudy light shoot in all directions from my being. My head locks backwards, but I can see. I can see them all.

Dozens upon dozens of the figures. Dozens upon dozens…

My mouth barely mouths, "Ghosts…"

The paladin laughs again, "Ghosts? They are no mere ghosts…they are the sons and daughters of the light! They flow from you, from Hope's Light!"

My body convulses forward. Limbs jerk together firmly and painfully. But I can still see. I can see as one of the figures emerges and instantly takes to his new found feet.

As he charges forward, his voice booms, "You have taken from me everything; my family, and my life!"

He pauses briefly as the ground parts in his path, "All I have to give in return…" His arms lift the fury of a mighty axe high above his head, "is my hatred…" the axes falls forward, colliding with a ghoul's head, "and an eternity of vengeance!"

The ghoul's body collapses instantly. And quickly so do others. The army of the light swarms from a pocket unseen by the enemy. The army of the light emerges from the area where only the dead once lay. The army of the light fights.

It is then the voice of a once confident knight bellows from his breaking army, "No..NOO. How is this…you should be dead! You should be part of the master!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the death knight standing a great deal away from me, watching as the army of his king is trampled by the might of what his master himself created so long ago. He watches me. As he does, I can feel his hatred and I can see his rage.

Air unexpectedly looses its grasp. My limbs relax and stretch outwards. Slowly I float back towards the ground. Grass bends and whips wildly as I descend. Carefully my toes touch the firm soil. Gently the heels of my worn shoes slide against the misty field. Firmly I come to an upright stance.

Sounds of battle overwhelm my presence. Sounds of warring units clash and crash against each other in a rising tide of the skirmish. Sounds of equal sides thrust against each other. Both equal in all aspects but one – courage.

Shifting towards the fight ahead, my head moves to draw in the new struggle. Ahead, I see armies of gray shattering against walls of whitened bleach. Ghouls crumble, crack, and collapse into themselves while skeletons shatter in slivers. Bursts of cloudy explosions turn once vengeful spirits into misty vapor before my very own eyes. Both sides lose numbers.

The entire army draws my attention, but one plated ghost figure catches my interest for some unknown reason. He throws himself head long into the enemy. His blade swings through slicing claws and dices through mashing jaws.

As he comes to the heart of the force, a dark knight pushes forward. Strangely, though, as the two near, the warrior of light does the unexpected. He drops his sword to his side.

Lunging forward, the twisted blade of darkness thrashes the cloudy vision. The runed blade easily penetrates the ghostly figure. Reaching forward, the damaged gray figure extends his arm and places his hand upon the head of the knight. For a brief second the two stay locked together. To the two formed as one.

In a spectacle of bright lights and flashing explosions, the holy figure explodes into a mystical cloud of bright fog, leaving the knight to stand dazed upon the field. He twists in his stance before glancing down at his hands as if he has never seen them before. Seconds pass before the figure gazes back upward, smiles, and begins laughing.

Grasping his sword, he spins in his spot and turns his back to me and faces his own forces. Raising his sword high, he proclaims, "Brothers…the voice…his voice…his voice is silent! It's silent!"

Instantly, another knight leaps forward. He rage bent upon the charging ghosts. Braced in his hands is a mighty runed blade. The same mighty blade that slowly begins tilting in his very hands. The same blade that points at another charging ghost covered in plate. The same blade the falls forward, bounces to his side and comes to rest next to the now kneeling knight.

Hands cusped together, the figure gazes upward upon the ghost and mouths two words. Two, simple words, Free me.

In a flash of fury the ghost places his hand upon the ghost, glows, and vanishes into mist and sparkling beauty. The death knight's hands fall to the ground as he begins to shake. Quickly he jerks upright. He reaches over, grabs his sword, and returns to his feet. Seconds later, he too faces the army of the damned. He too faces the army he once knew far too well.

How is that possible? How can that be? These ghosts…they sacrifice even their final vengeance for these monsters?! This makes no sense!

As I gaze mindlessly into the crowd, he voice of the paladin to my side returns, "Vengeance, Hope, can fuel rage unlike anything ever seen before. It can guide warriors of the light into darkness."

I turn slowly, locking my confused eyes with his motivating visage," And inspires the righteous to guide those consumed by the shadow back into the light."

He quits speaking. But even in his silence, the cries of death knights fill the air. Just ahead more knights experience what their brothers had and turn against the dark that once consumed them. Turn against the evil that once controlled their hearts and minds. The same evil…the fuels the Herald of the Lich…

At that very moment his sinister, deep voice bellows eerily from nearby, "You are supposed to be dead! It was what was tasked of me! You should be dead!"

I cannot turn. I hear the rumbling footsteps of the raging damned. His armor rattles upon his shoulders. His boots thud against hardened grounds. His chest heaves unused air from his uselessly functioning lungs.

Again he roars to me, sounding as if only feet away, "I am the Herald of the Lich King, I am his voice! He commands for your death, and I shall not fail! Die, Hope Blackwood! Die!"

Air rushes beside me. The force of his blade stirs the winds themselves and draws them into parting. I barely have time to twist my head to see the blackened armor out of the corner of my eyes. He stands beside me, his weapon barreling down upon my presence, yet I cannot see. Yet I do not feel any fear.

TING

Metal crashes upon metal. Sparks rain down, and draw my sight. I can barely see the black figure anymore. Blocking my sight and the very weapon itself is a wall of arms. A wall of arms bearing upon them each a separate shield. Each one uniting to form a barrier that protects against the might of his anger.

As the arms hover before my eyes, a glowing object just barely out of sight calls to me. It calls to me and slowly I gaze downward. Resting upon the ground is a weapon gleaming for all to see. Light illuminates from its presence while dancing shapes rearrange themselves systematically and rhythmically.

My shovel.

WHOOSH - TING

The sound of a mighty weapon failing against the might of a stubborn force fills the air. Quickly after, the grunts of a frustrated warrior burst out, "What is this? What is this?!"

WHOOSH – TING, WHOOSH – TING.

His voice returns as he readies for another strike, "Come, you coward, come and take what is deserving! Quit hiding under your filthy light!"

WHOOSH – TING, WHOOSH – TING, WHOOSH – TING.

A rattled voice of frustration and desperation calls, "This what was foreseen! The Master planned it! He told me! Today you were to die!"

My eyes stay locked firmly upon the ground. Even as the rattling above becomes continuous and grows louder, my eyes stayed firmly locked upon the blade half-buried under bodies. Slowly, my hand reaches out towards out. Slowly, it grasps the handle. Slowly, my arm lifts it upwards and lets a torrent of power rush through it.

WHOOSH – TING, WHOOSH – TING, WHOOSH – TING, WHOOSH – TING.

I pull the object to me and let the caressing lights tickle my senses. It calls to me. It sings to me.

It speaks to me just as does the paladin, "He is free now. He is free to use his weapon. It is now a part of you. Use it, Hope, use it."

He pauses for a brief second before continuing, "The Lich King has spoken, Hope, and he insults your very name. He spits upon all that is holy and now even dares strike at you."

I feel his hand rest upon my shoulder, but my eyes stay locked with the blade, "Use it, Hope."

My head twists back to him. His eyes glow brightly while a smirk covers his face. At first I wait from him to draw his blade to his side, but he does not move. Does he plan to aid me? Does he plan to take part in the fight?

I begin to open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

He scans my face for a second before nodding and speaking, "You go in alone, Hope, yet you go with the backing of an army. You go with the might of the light and all those whom possess it. You shall do this alone, yet you shall never be."

WHOOSH – TING, WHOOSH – TING, WHOOSH - TING

He throws a passing glance at the death knight before looking back towards me, "The Lich King has spoken, Hope. It would be rude of us not to respond."

In a flash my head whips forward. The shovel grows light in my hand. I rotate it so it rests horizontal to the ground, yet flat to my body. Its power glows brightly. Its power radiates throughout my body. Its power is for me to control, and for me to guide.

And so I shall.

WHOOSH – TING, WHOOSH…

Reacting fast, I throw the weapon upwards. As it nears the wall of unmoving shields, it glows brighter. As if commanded, the arms move and vanish into a cloud of vapor and foggy matter. It rises through the wall of mystic ash and becomes the only object between the fury of the knight and myself.

TING

Energy ripples rapidly upon all edges of the weapon. Air itself bends and folds hurriedly as the two mighty runed objects slam against each other. Fingers grip the vibrating shovel, while arms shake upon the handle of the cursed blade of the knight. Sound itself flees in terror, huddling upon our jittering teeth and the inner cliffs of our skulls.

The fallen knight's face contorts, revealing a rather strange combination of frustration and desperation. Muscles tighten maddeningly as all his might exerts downward. Then, expectedly, his eyes lock with mine, and for that very moment, for only a split second, I can see all his hatred. For only a split second, I can see all his rage. For a split second, I can see…

Jerking backwards, the knight pulls the blade away, grits his teeth and readies to swing. I, however, pull from my knees, come to my feet, and leap forward. My knees bend slightly, but my legs hold firmly. In a flash his blade flies forward…

TING

This time his blade makes it only a short distance. Energy once again turns the tranquil air into a plain of disturbed water, shaking as if a pebble was dropped into its vast sea. Metal quakes just above my head, but stays stationary as my shovel denies its passage. We are eye level, and as we stand here, they lock once again. For a second time, for another second, I can see his frustrations. I can see his desperation. I can see….

Again his blade flies backwards. The weapon poised to strike. His body positioned in perfect stance to deliver a fatal blow. His muscles ache with desire and his mind cries with focus. Quickly he attacks again.

I must react fast. My free arm jerks upwards grabbing the wooden handle. With due haste my body twists to the side, drawing the shovel away. Eying his blade carefully I focus myself and pull the weapon forward.

Out of the corner of my eye I watch as the constantly altering runes realign themselves in a beautiful display of white light. Both blades barrel downward. Their metallic surfaces shine of light or of darkness. Speed guides them both, but one is led by a stronger power. The dark blade hurls forward. Light sparkles as the shovel twists. Both aimed for victory, but one destined.

TING

An explosion of light clouds our vision. I am unable to see anything, but fully know who was the victor. Swiftly I move my arms, and my blade swings to the other side. I carefully reposition it, letting the blade tip point forward.

I watch as the wall of bright energy dissipates from view, revealing a stumbling knight. Taking a step forward, I let my mouth slide open and the words slip out, "Your master has foreseen only what he wanted to see."

My blade spins lightly in my hands as the Knight comes to stop. His blades rests loosely in his left hand, while the rest of his body rocks in place. A show of confusion and shock sweep his being. I take another step forward.

Drawing my arms back, I prepare to speak. As I do, I utter, "He saw his armies descending upon a weak force, a weak force undeserving of his attention."

My arms steady themselves. Wind tickles my cheeks while muscles in my body prepare to release a grand force. Quickly I step forward again, letting the blade rush past as I do. "He saw a new army to add to his already vast bulk."

The weapon shoots past my side and heads straight towards its target, "But he is blind!"

TING

Light erupts from the concentrated runes upon the blade's face. Rings of yellow energy pulsate outward. Sparks of white rain down from his chest, while bits of blackened metal flee in all directions.

He stumbles for a second letting his shoulders fly back, while his body loses all the strength it once firmly held. Hair floats down upon a startled face while muscles tighten and loosen across to form a bewildered look. Yet still, I can feel his hate. I can still feel his hatred. He is blind. He is far too ignorant.

A deep force rumbles within. Building energy draws from all directions and converges upon my presence. Trails of swirling bright energy ripples past my arms and into the many runes that circle to form almost a ball upon the shovel's blade. The air is dazzled as the energy lightens even this transparent entity. Such power. Such remarkable power.

All given to me but forces unknown, but yet by forces clearly seen. They gather upon my body and travel down to the blade as directed by some invisible hands. And they all have done their job. Now it is my turn.

My hands tilt the glowing force carefully. Arms guide the small attachments. Shoulders brace the guiders. Lungs gather energy. A heart fuels them all. Now…it is my turn.

Gazing back to the knight, I catch sight of his limp body. Radiating energy distorts his image, but I can still make him out. I can still make out the target.

Twisting the handle I readjust and begin pulling it upward. After a second, the sphere upon the end turns the air into a shaky sea like hot steam from stone pathways.

Quickly it passes my head and escapes sight but not view. It is then I speak, "You and your master are blind. They feel to see that no meager force came this day."

My arms draw backwards, "What you fail to see, death knight, is that upon this day…"

Massive reach is met, and it hangs for a second, "…the army of the light has descended upon you."

With all my might I exert the weapon forward. Easily the weapon passes overhead. Easily it soars back into sight, "And with it, hope."

Energy builds and blinds all corners of reality. An illuminating power expands in all directions, obscuring vision itself. Yet, as the weapon hurls forward, and as all the edges of this time and space vanish into the bright light, I can make out the death knight. His mouth hangs upon, and his eyes lock with mine.

I can see him. I can see who he is. I can see…

The blade hurls forward. It nears his body and readies to collide. I can see his eyes…

I can feel remnants of hate. I can feel waves of rage.

I can see…his fear…

TING