Grace's epic journey is almost over =] And I'm currently working on a second part, too!

Enjoy!


Book Fourteen, Part One

Icecrown

Eventually we finished cleaning off the blood and dirt. With the muck off of my face a felt a little better.

We had two days to rest until our final trial, although those undergoing it wouldn't officially know until the day of. I said if I wasn't chosen to continue, I would go to Fordring himself and demand I do. The next day, Zen and I felt much rested, and Zen insisted that we watch the other trials. "Why?" I asked. "None of them are going to have as tough of a challenge as we did."

"Cole would like some company in the stands."

"Cole?" I repeated, turning my attention from my belt and looking over quizzically. "But Cole has R-"

"Robert was initiated right before they came. He's going to battle today."

"What?" I now stood. "But Robert is still learning…and without Cole to help?"

"Cole tried to convince him not to come. But the boy is stubborn." I muttered an agreement under my breath. "Cole can only watch now."

"And pray," I grumbled.

We met Cole at the main entrance. The dark haired rogue grinned cheerfully, arms out as he hugged me in greeting. It wasn't quite the welcoming I was expecting, considering what had happened at our last meeting. But Cole hugged me anyway, and then gave Zen a firm handshake. I always thought Zen and Cole were a perfect balance. Light and dark, stoic and relaxed. They balanced each other out nicely, and even now I could sense how attuned to each other they were. "A great performance yesterday, as always, Zen," he commented. "And Grace, that form needs work! But a nice shot!"

I smiled. "Thanks, Cole."

Cole led us to our seats, the arena looking much smaller from up in the stands. I could see Taellor's silvery hair as he sat in front of us, his figure protectively hovering near Fordring.

"Robert's the next match."

Cole was anxious. He sat on the edge of his seat, hands on his knees until the gates opened. Then as the contenders arrived, he leaned back with tensed shoulders.

I wasn't sure if I could watch. Robert was a good rogue—and apparently, a decent jouster—but he wasn't experienced enough…

This group wasn't melding well. Robert was still his usual hard-headed self, and he had become somewhat the leader of the group. Another Human—the tank—looked to Robert for assistance in controlling the Champions of the Horde.

Of course they had the warrior tank to deal with, and the shaman; but instead of Visceri, the ten had a mage to battle. It was disorganized, and all I could focus on was Robert as he helped against the Skullcrusher.

Their tank was a warrior as well and when put up against Makra he was no match. Robert was a nuisance and a bigger threat to him, and I knew it was only a matter of time; then he slashed the Orc's torso, and it was the last straw for the Horde enemy. The Orc swung around and Robert attempted to jump out of the way, but the axe was too quick. Blood spurted from Robert's abdomen as the entire audience seemed to gasp with me. For a moment I was reminded of my own wounds on the field, and nausea wanted to take over.

Robert's was a deeper wound. Immediately he fell to the floor, dagger slipping out of his hand as his body skidded into a puff of dirt.

The blood seemed to drain from his face, now pale white, and seep onto the battle's floor. He wasn't bubbled yet, and now I was growing anxious. Somehow I had ended up standing, my hands clenched. "Help him!" I called, but no one would hear me over the roars of the crowd around me.

Robert wasn't protected until he completely lost consciousness, his face ghostly white as the medics rushed down and lifted him out of his own pool of blood, carrying him away as the battle rumbled on.

My fist pounded the railing. "Where are they taking him?" I asked, turning to Zen.

"Probably where Cole's heading. The medic tent."

Cole? Sure enough, Cole was already descending the stairs with a familiar, tense gait. "He doesn't look good," I muttered, taking a couple sidesteps toward the nearest exit aisle. Zen's hand grabbed my own.

"You're following him?"

"Robert is near death, and I know Cole cares a lot about him. They're like our family," I explained.

Zen looked out toward the continuing battle for a moment, and then shrugged. "Okay. Let's go."

We filed out of the arena and caught up with Cole as he was entering the tent set aside for the wounded. Cole found Robert immediately, the medics of the Crusade was looking over him and healing the wound as quickly as possible. At some point Robert had come to—he was given a handful of medications and potions. Once they got him stabilized, a priest approached us. "He should be fine. He's just lethargic from the blood loss. The potions will help him with the shock in little time."

"Thank you." Cole sidled past the healer and approached Robert's cot, and I realized I had been wringing my hands in nervousness until getting the good news. "Are you feeling okay?" Cole asked in a low voice.

"I'm furious," Robert growled. "My tank wasn't aggressive enough, and no one else was being a leader, either-"

"You did your best," Cole said. "You did well."

"I should have done better." Robert looked away, dark circles under his eyes more prominent as his jaw clenched. "I let you down."

Zen and I watched from behind Cole as his hand covered Robert's cheek, aura calm and collected and yet warmer than usual. "You did not. I'm just glad you're alive."

Clearly the touch was a surprise to Robert, his pale face now looking like it had seen a ghost. Cole's hand fell to the rogue's shoulder and gave it an assuring squeeze. "You need your rest now."

Robert nodded, but before he dismissed Cole, his hand cross over his chest to grip Cole's. "Thank you," he murmured.

With an absent minded nod Cole remained there a moment, maybe turning a multitude of thoughts over in his head. Finally Cole exhaled loudly, his hand squeezing Robert's shoulder once more before he stood and left the tent. Before taking my own leave I gave Robert two thumbs up and a wink. He rolled his eyes, but it couldn't hide the blush now creeping across his cheekbones.

Zen was talking to Cole outside. "…I just feel like I still need to protect him," Cole explained. "I was actually worried."

"Everything's okay now, he's going to be fine."

"Yes I know, it's just…well, things aren't 'fine' anymore. This is war. It's real. And the thought of losing Robert…"

"One day at a time, Cole," Zen insisted as he patted his friend on the shoulder. "A wise friend of mine once showed me the importance of bonds and relationships. Sometimes people…become part of you." Zen was looking over the horizon now, probably to avoid anyone's gaze, and I suddenly felt lost in his eyes. "You followed Robert here because you care. And he needs your support. Bonds make you stronger."
Cole's lips were still tightened with worry, but now he seemed to smile with a realization I didn't yet have. "Wise words, indeed, coming from an icy moron like you."

The light-haired rogue chuckled now as he swiftly clutched Cole's neck with a strong arm, causing him to stagger forward. "I'll let that go, since you're clearly distraught and exhausted." Zen let go of his counterpart, gaining a low chuckle in response. "Now go get some rest before I change my mind and challenge you to a duel to the death."

Cole nodded, a smile of true relief on his face. "Thanks Zen. For the support. You're the brother I never had."

I wouldn't tell Zen I told you so. Zen and I retreated silently to our tent for a more quiet evening.

The next day was our final fight. The invitation to compete was on a message board near the entrance, and Zen and I both had our names decorating the paper in fancy scrawl. "How could we not move on to the trial," I grumbled as Zen and I walked back across the grounds. "We dealt with that bloody bonus round. In fact," I stated firmly. "We should have been automatically entered into the group to raid!" I stopped, noticing how Zen's attention wasn't on my words. "Zen?"

The male rogue turned, hands in his pockets as he calmly looked over to my displeased face. "Yes?"

"You weren't listening. Usually that means something's bothering you."

"I'm just…preparing myself. Mentally, at least."

"Zen…how long have I been around you."

He paused, looking me over with a calm, purposeful look. "It's just really close. Real and close. Grace, if you would rather stay where it's safe in Stormwind…"

"I can't. You know that." I stepped in closer. "I know you're worried. But I won't let you go without me. We'll do this together, no matter how it ends. I was born to defend Stormwind."

Zen sighed. "I knew it was useless. Come on. Let's go get ready."

It turned out Zen and I were separated into different groups this time. And I was first; in no time I was in the usual position behind the thick iron gate, my heart pounding into my ribs like a hammer on nail. The match started after little pause to think, and with twenty four other people, it was easy for me to avoid too much conflict.

The beasts of Northrend were first, which really translated to whatever terrible things the Argent Crusade could round up for this match. The first round wasn't too bad once I minded the spikes, but the worm-like, snake-like things we battled next were actually frightening.

Not only were Acidmaw and Dreadscale large, with serpentine looks and scales with razor sharp edges; but the two beasts were extremely quick and cunning. Poison shot from their mouths, and their tails could whip around far too quick if you're preoccupied conjuring a cast.

I barely dodged one of these very same tail swipes, the movement causing a loud whoosh as I stepped back. Once everyone was far enough away from the worm, it inhaled with a hiss and spat; green ichor shot from its mouth and hit another rogue—a Night Elf female—dead-on.

With a small curse I watched as the poor elf remained frozen in place. At first I thought she had been too fearful to move. But the poison had been absorbed into her skin, and as the other worm now hurled a molten fireball her way, I realized the poison was a paralytic.

I made it to her right on time, my frame smaller but able to tackle her far enough away to dodge the deadly attack. The flames burst as they hit the ground, charring the dirt and heating my feet as I tried to stand.

Eventually the paralytic poison wore off. Besides the venom attacks, the fight wasn't too bad. I stayed on my feet for the next two enemies. Some had fallen, of course—our twenty five man team had been reduced to probably eighteen or nineteen. And the Horde crusaders—a surprise to us all—were easily mowed down. It was the Twin Val'ky that really whittled away our numbers.

This was because the twins—who had been caught by Paletress after they tried ruining the entire tournament—had to be logically approached. We had lost two melee before we caught on to the game. At the time I had sustained mild injuries—many bruises and even a few cuts. My shirt had been seared by a Blood Elf mage earlier, my skin hot and itchy as it battled the burn's effects.

The portals had marked us. We had unknowingly picked our poison; but it didn't take too much effort to realize those attuned to Lightbane's golden aura were severely damaged by the dark sister's power.

The bluish-black aura of Darkbane felt smothering as it blanketed me—it must have had very dark properties if it could change my mood to weary and saturnine.

But I attacked the Light, and embraced the dark. It was the strategy needed to win. Once we had figured out the method, it was easy to burn the pair down—save for my scorched skin down my right arm that now pounded with heated pain.

Of course Fordring congratulated us again, his sense of pride lingering as he dismissed the ten of us that had survived. The final group would be chosen within days, after everyone else had finished their fights. And I couldn't fathom at all how Fordring couldn't select Zen and me.

Zen greeted me as I made it outside of the arena, his rogue-like demeanor easily seen through after all of my training with him. He looked me over with a keen eye. "You fought well."

"The first battle was harder. On my body, at least," I admitted. My helmet I had torn off immediately after the match—now my sweaty forehead grew chilled in the Northrend wind. My hair was now attractively matted against my scalp.

"It'll only get worse."

I sighed, though perhaps it was only out of habit. Zen was protective, and of course he would convince me not to fight, if he could. But we both knew of war. Of costs. "If you go, I go," I stated. "I have to be there."

Zen said no more. Once we reached the tent, I washed myself up a bit, admiring my new battle wounds and using my burn cream on my arm.

It'll only get worse. Zen's words were repeating over and over in my head. It'll only be harder. I could admit to myself that I most definitely was not the best rogue for the job. After all, how long had I been a rogue now? Surely there were others that were better soldiers; more skilled. Maybe I was just crazy enough to go.

I found myself lost in thought; my body freshened as I held my golden ring and its chain in my hands. Somehow I had frozen, gotten lost in thought as my jewelry remained suspended in my line of sight.

Was it luck that had gotten me though this, then? Was I merely slipping through cracks of fortune…

Or was it Fate, who had a twisted method of bearing its presence in life. I had been bitten. I had a connection to the Lich King. I had been a very fine thread in the tapestry of the Lich King's war.

No. The gold of the ring Lucas and Dennis had given me for my eighteenth birthday reflected in the small lantern light and casted beams across the tent. I worked for this moment. I had trained and fought and put onto my shoulders the responsibilities. It had torn my heart into shreds; I had abandoned those I loved. I had to pick myself back up and fight harder. I chose this. I would avenge the fallen.

I had managed to make it through my own trial, but now I had to sit through Zen's. His was the final group to go, and of course by then I couldn't stop wringing my hands in anxiousness. Images of Robert's bleeding torso flashed through my memory, making me shake my head violently. Zen was the best. His skill would keep him alive.

Prior to the fight beginning, Taellor found me in the stands and greeted me. It took a lot to convince Taellor I would be okay watching the fight, but he eventually sighed knowingly and returned to his seat after giving me a pat on the shoulder.

The trial's usual commencement began as Fordring held his gloved hand up to quiet the crowd.

Twenty five people on the battlefield, and I could only focus on one of them. Zen's attacks were always pinpointed and lethal. I didn't want to watch—but it hurt more not to. Zen got knocked back by a Northrend beast, his shoulder smashing into the wall, nearly making me gasp.

At least he could fight. In fact, Zen made it through the remaining fights, despite being limited by a crushed shoulder.

My head was starting to throb, and angrily I rubbed my temple. It must have been the stress of watching Zen fight; and now that it was over, I wanted the ache gone.

Fordring stood as the applause erupted, causing me to flinch in pain. Once the clapping died down, Fordring looked down upon the fighters. "A mighty blow has been dealt to the Lich King! You have proven yourselves able bodied champions of the Argent Crusade. Together we will strike at Icecrown and destroy what remains of the Scourge! There is no challenge that we cannot face united!"

"You will have your challenge, Fordring."

Suddenly, there was chilling silence across the entirety of the grounds as my vision blurred and darkened momentarily. I recognized the voice immediately, from my visions—and I realized where my headache had originated from.

Then the Lich King appeared, his figure illuminating an evil aura I had already experienced before. Blue, electric light surrounded his body as his blackened armor contrasted against the gray sky. I shivered, my body suddenly aching all over as I leaned forward and clutched the stone ledge.

"Arthas!" I heard Fordring yell, and without doubt I knew Fordring could easily hate this being, despite his title of paladin. "You are hopelessly outnumbered! Lay down Frostmourne and I will grant you a just death!"

Just. My body felt heated in anger as I let the word linger in my head. There was no true form of justice with the Lich King.

The Lich King's caustic laugh echoed through the coliseum, causing my bones to numb. "The Nerubians built an empire beneath the frozen wastes of Northrend. An empire that you foolishly built your structures upon. My empire."

I had trouble breathing as the air thickened with a dark magic, the feeling making me nauseous as I forced myself to look upon Arthas. His body was swirling in blues and purples, the energies seemingly absorbed by his being. But I couldn't lose consciousness now, not with him right there. It would be the end of me.

"The souls of your fallen champions will be mine, Fordring."

Before Fordring could even think of an attack on the Lich King, however, he had vanished, though he had left me with a splitting headache that nearly had me nearly sitting back down to gather myself. I would have, that is, until I realized that the splintering sound ringing in my ears wasn't inside my pounding head, but below me instead.

It was as if hell had opened up from below us on the battlefield; the ground crumbled and was swallowed by a gaping black hole. The entire foundation of the coliseum shook and split, and within two blinks of my eyes the entire bottom floor of the arena was gone; it took the champions with it.

The crunching of stone supports muffled my cry of shock as I realized Zen had fallen victim to the Lich King's new plot. Panicked, I leaned forward and even attempted to yell Zen's name—but the rubble had formed a massive dust cloud that was rising into the stands; it blanketed my vision and impeded my breathing.

I coughed loudly, my eyes now stinging as I paused to gather myself. Time wasn't on my side, though—the stands began to splinter and crumble inward, swayed by the black hole.

"Everyone please exit slowly! Do not panic!"

But it was panic. Hollers were erupting around me, and screams of pain and fright stung my ears.

Tears had arrived from my eyes, the hot liquid leaving tracks where gravel had covered my face. Whether they were from the irritating dust or my panicked state was unknown. But at least the tears helped me see. I back pedaled one step, trying not to get trampled on by the others who were exiting.

The first few rows had collapsed, some parts skidding into the deep hole before us. I was pushed and shoved up two more rows until our mass of people found the exit. I was carried by the panicking group who mercilessly pulled me down the ramps and stairways.

Finally I was out, and when I was far enough away from the crowds, I collapsed.

My whole body was saturated with the gray and brown dust. At first I only breathed—my throat still burned and felt dry, but at least I wasn't in the midst of the problem. And then I remembered Zen.

My female instincts assumed the worst. He's dead. The earth opened up, and Light knows where it led to or how far he fell…

But I had excellent rogue skills. And rare detecting skills. I still felt his aura. He wasn't dead. Not yet.

My hands were shaky as I pulled myself up, mindlessly dusting myself off as I turned toward the caving-in arena. There were some things SI:7 didn't train you for.

There were Argent members keeping the curious back, shouting announcements and warnings. "Fordring is trying his best to sort out the situation, but for your safety keep back!"

I couldn't guess how long I stood there, caked in dust and tears as the soldiers kept guard of the dilapidated building. I wasn't sure what to expect or look forward to—but if Zen had died…

I waited and waited. The building continued to smolder and crack, the ashen residue still bellowing from the death pit as some tried to bring order to the chaos.

I could tell news had developed—words were spreading to the dozens of soldiers of the Crusade that were guarding the failing structure. Indignantly I strutted up to a Human Argent crusader, now trying to calm the others that gathered around in confusion.

"What happ-"

Zen's aura suddenly faded from my senses, the absence so blatant I stopped mid-thought in my shock. Goosebumps covered my body, the shivering feeling unfettering as I fought to breathe. "Please," I asked, my voice barely passing from my lips. "Are they dead? What happened?"

"All I've heard is the Lich King ignited a battle between our crusaders and his Undead beast, Anub'arak. There were….some survivors. Fordring offered them a portal to-"

My legs crashed into the hardened, crisp ground. Some survived. Meaning most were gone. This wasn't supposed to end like this. Without Zen…

The only future I had ever imagined was with Zen.

I couldn't see anymore. Tears had flooded my vision, the dirt irritating my eyes and rendering me momentarily blind. I was shaking so much I couldn't focus on anything but breathing. I had lost everything, and now I had nothing to lose. Bitterly I wiped dirty tears from my streaked face, my feelings caught between anger and sorrow.

What was there to do? I considered stumbling to Taellor—wherever he was—but then I thought of the future, and going home without Lucas and trying to explain that to my mother.

How could I even think about myself right now when Zen was dead. Gone for good. I never said goodbye and I never got a chance to say—

Chills arrived across the nape of my neck as my senses picked up his familiar aura. But it was barely there, so small I could have been imagining it.

I stood up anyway, the strain causing a rumbling cough out of my lungs. But if Zen was alive I could cough up a whole lung without caring.

Cautiously I moved toward the aura, my mind still numbed by the thought of losing Zen. I turned the corner, where a burst of wind greeted me and tossed my hair back, but nothing could distract me from Zen's figure.

He was holding the side of his abdomen, the crimson liquid spilling over his hand and his armor. The blood had drained from his face, and some was trickling from his busted lip. He grimaced, face twisting in pain as he tried taking a step forward. "Zen!" I hollered, my own pace quickening into a run. My feeling of relief twisted into worry as I reached out just in time to catch Zen's stumbling body. "By the Light," I muttered, Zen's weight causing me to stagger back as well. We both fell to our knees, Zen's bloody hand catching his balance in the muddy ground. "Zen," I breathed. "What…how did you..?" His other hand opened, palm up, to reveal a hearthstone. "But Fordring had a portal…"
"To Dalaran. Portals are for the weak," Zen grumbled, his head unable to lift. "I hearthed instead."

"You're bleeding out, the hearth could have killed you!" I berated with a low growl.

Zen looked up, mustering his strength for a good breath. "I had to get back to you."

I bit my lip to keep from getting terribly emotional. "Zen." His body lolled a bit in my arms, his own hand dropping to his side uselessly. "We have to get you to the medical tent," I instructed. He nodded, though I doubted he fully understood. With all of my strength I could manage I tried hoisting his flaccid body onto his feet. I succeeded—kind of. Zen's body slopped onto its feet, his weight on my own smaller frame. "Work with me here, Zen," I growled; but his arms hanged languidly at his sides and he muttered something that sounded something like "buttered flowers."

I successfully walked (or dragged, rather) Zen's body four steps before we stumbled, the strain causing my back to jolt with pain. "Damn it," I cursed loudly. "Zen, come on, stay awake," I urged, giving him a rather violent shake. "You're going to die if we don't get there."

Panic was causing my throat to dry as I ungracefully tried pulling Zen up again. Despite the shooting sensation in my back, I kept him on his feet. "Come on," I begged.

"Grace!"

In surprise I turned to see Taellor jogging toward me, his skin powdered with grit just like mine. "He hearthed, and his side…"

"Okay, here…" Taellor's considerably larger frame sidled onto Zen's other side, his arms gripping Zen as most of the weight lifted from my back. "Keep pressure on that gash, Grace."

I nodded, pulling my outer cloak's material around to push it against the bloody mess along the side of his torso, and together the three of us paced toward the medical tent. When we arrived Zen was immediately intercepted, his unconscious body laid on a cot as healers swarmed him, casting heals and spreading ointments over his wounds.

I watched numbly, frozen in place until Taellor's hand patted my shoulder. "He'll be fine."

"I know," I squeaked. "I'm just…I'm still recovering. I don't think I'll get used to…the thought of death."

"You're only Human, Grace."

I smirked at the statement. "I suppose only Humans fear death then, Night Elf?"

Taellor perked at my quirky name-calling I usually didn't resort to. "I suppose that's not fully correct."

I nodded absent mindedly, watching the bustle before me with discerning eyes. "He survived a malicious attack plotted by the Lich King, and hearths knowing he's on the edge of death."

"He couldn't leave you here."

Grimacing, I recalled one of Zen's only statements. I had to get back to you. "Well, he's lost his mind then."

"I think he's just fine."

"You and Zen hate each other."

Taellor chuckled with a shake of his head. "Hate is a strong emotion. Zen and I…have much in common."

"Thank you," I said. "For coming to our rescue."

The elf's strong arm pulled me in affectionately to give me a sort of half-hug. Finally the action surrounding Zen had settled down. The nasty gash was closed with the Light's power, though blood, now dry, still painted his body. After a medic allowed us to approach Zen I gathered a wet cloth and gently wiped Zen's chin, neck, and forehead.

"Are you going to be okay here for a bit?" Taellor asked softly. "Fordring probably needs my…"

"Of course, Taellor," I answered with a small smile. "You've already helped. So much."

"You can call us even. You've saved me twice. I've saved you and Zen each."

"Yeah, well I don't think you've factored in the notion that I was the reason you fell off a cliff into the coma in the first place," I grumbled.

"Eh, I can look over that," Taellor dismissed with a twinkling eye. "For now."

"You never cease to amuse me, Taellor."

"You have to laugh a little in order to survive out here. Hang in there, Grace."

Taellor slipped out silently, leaving me to mull over Zen's battered appearance. His shirt had been cut away dismissively, his armor tossed aside to expose his injuries. Now a blanket draped over Zen's motionless but recuperating body, his set shoulders peeking out of the linens. Slowly I drew back the blanket and gently patted away some of the splotches of blood along his abdominal muscles. Surprised, I noted that the medics had removed all of the rogue's clothing—Zen's chiseled muscles ended at the edge of the blanket, and for a brief moment I gazed in shock; then with a vivid blush I pulled the sheet back over his stomach.

I didn't have to wait too long for Zen to awaken—his first noise was a groggy moan, his arm coming up to rub his eyes in confusion. Once he finally came completely around he tried sitting up.

My arm easily batted him back down. "Zen," I berated quietly. "You'll rip open your wound."

He looked me over a moment, perhaps to recall how we had gotten there, and then exhaled. "We were attacked. The floor…"

"The building collapsed."

Zen tried shooting up again, but I managed to again keep him down. "Are you okay?"

I blinked. "Zen, I'm fine. The worst part was thinking you were…dead."

Zen's hand lifted with difficulty as it stroked my cheek. "I'm not dead. Not yet." I nodded with a slight smile as his hand dropped due to weakness. "Your face…is dusty?"

"It's stone dust. From the collapse."

"Well, are you hurt? It-"

"Zen, you got here in a bloody puddle and you're worried I got hurt?"

"I survived. I only made it here because of you."

"Not completely true. Taellor helped me drag you into the medic tent."

Zen nodded quietly in thought, a small shrug wrinkling his blankets. "I suppose a thank-you is in order."

"I thought you were dead. I thought everything was over for me."

Zen's hand found my own. "Let's not think about that. I'm just…I'm thankful to be here."

I wanted to point out that avoiding our daily life-or-death predicaments didn't make them disappear, but Zen was recovering and needed stress-free relaxation. So I held his hand and urged him to close his eyes and rest instead.

As I sat there and watched Zen rest, it took every drop of strength I had not to dwell on what laid ahead for my future. And the chaos it took to get here. I managed to eventually fall asleep huddled over Zen's bed, and when I awoke my back was rightfully sore. I spent my time wisely, sharpening my blades, sharpening Zen's blades. Not surprisingly, three days flies by when Death is whispering down your collar.

Zen recovered quickly. In three days he was healthy again, and we were preparing for the fight of our life.

We would leave from the tournament grounds, though others were stuck in Dalaran and would meet us there. The night before we were due to leave, I tracked Taellor down with my rogue skills, to where his own tent (conveniently near Fordring's) stood. I slipped into his tent quietly, minding the cot and lantern before Taellor's curious face looked me over. "Grace," he stated, his arm dropping his glimmering dagger onto his cot. "What a surprise."

My eyebrows furrowed. "I know you can sense me from fifty paces away."

Taellor shrugged his masculine shoulders. "Surprise in the sense I didn't expect a visit. Not that I didn't feel it once you were on your way."

I smiled. "I came to say goodbye. We're leaving tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow? I didn't realize…"

"The raid on the citadel," I explained, knowing full well Taellor knew exactly where I was going. "You know…Lich King…frozen throne…big sword…"

"I've heard of it, yes…"

I giggled, causing Taellor to smirk in return. "Grace," Taellor's tone got serious, "it's not going to be easy. Arthas was a powerful Human, and now that he's part of the Lich King-"

"I know…"

"Many won't make it out alive. And the raid may not even succeed."

"Zen's already tried intimidating me, Taellor. I have to go. Everything in my life…"

"Zen just wants you to live a long, happy life, Grace. But he also knows you're a rogue. A very gifted and talented one. He knows you'll go. He can't stop you. But he sure as hell will do anything in his power to be sure you stay alive."

Taellor's eyes drifted downward as the lantern light casted deep shadows around his cat-like eyes. "Taellor, you deserve happiness, too," I whispered.

His touch created sparks that prickled up my arm as his hand held my own; when Taellor's other hand cupped my cheek, the hair on my neck stood on end.

"As long as you return safely, Grace…"

My heart thudded in my chest. "I can only try, Taellor."

One soft, gently kiss graced my forehead, so light I nearly didn't feel it. Then the Night Elf stepped back and landed a brotherly pat on my shoulder. "Go get some rest, Grace. It's a big day tomorrow."

I fought back the urge to cry. My arms reached toward Taellor again, embracing him one last time before leaving. His arms wrapped around me securely, the way they always would. Protectively.

"Thanks Taellor. I love you."

"I love you. Even though sometimes you're a bit irrational and quick to temper and-"

"You're ruining it."

Taelllor's deep chuckle rumbled against my ear. "Just don't die, okay?"

"Okay," I agreed, smiling as I pulled away. "Night, Taellor."

"Goodbye, Grace. Go with honor…or something like that."

I laughed, finally shaking my head and heading out of the tent with a smile on my face. Taellor would always be in my heart, his guardianship and protectiveness the one thing that kept me moving when I was at my worst. Like another brother in my life.

I couldn't focus on much of anything. One moment I was fearless, mind reinforced like steel. And then I made it to where my destiny would soon play out. My head felt cloudy as I gazed at the mountainous structure.

"How are we going to slip in unnoticed?" I asked Zen carefully. The wings of our griffin beat loudly within the wind's grasp, the speed causing my cheeks to burn with the chill. Before us, the ominous silhouette of the Lich King's citadel. Some of the others chosen to join the Crusade followed alongside us.

"The Ashen Verdict has handled that. Mograine had managed to set up a sort of base in Icecrown Citadel."

"Mograine?" I repeated. "Meaning my brother…"

"Yes, the Death Knights have been defending and setting up the site."
I exhaled uselessly, my arms around Zen tightening as we drew in closer and closer. We slipped in without causing a stir, into a crevice where the Death Knights and Mograine awaited.

It was supposed to be the champions. The best of the best from the tournament—both Horde and Alliance-joining together. But the tournament hadn't had much success in uniting us with the Horde. And now, they were nowhere to be found. I wanted to be optimistic and imagine we would run into them. They were coming from Dalaran—we needed to stand united against our enemy. But the logistical side of me…

Fordring had been in Dalaran as well, gathering the Horde to join us. Right now, he was nowhere to be found. Mograine's expression as he approached us wasn't comforting, either.

"The Horde?" Zen asked; we dismounted quickly, the feeling of solid ground causing me to stir on my feet.

"They've entered against my advice."

The rest of our Alliance champions were settling in now, and chatter erupted at the news.

"How long ago?" one of our bulky Human tanks asked.

"It's been long enough. I warned them to hold…they could be wiped out by now."

"And Fordring?" asked Zen.

"Hasn't arrived yet. The Horde must have bypassed him."

"They'll turn against us!" shouted another champion. "Become minions of the Lich King for us to slaughter!"

"They already have! Undead or not, they are enemies!"

Others rattled off agreements. "Let's go then!" a Draenei boomed. "Those wet eleks think they've outdone the Alliance! We will show them our wrath!"

My face suddenly felt extremely hot as I listened on. "No!" I roared. "We are forgetting who the enemy is here! We have to work together!"

"And have the Horde expressed that same desire when they push forward alone?" another hissed.

"No, b-" I stopped, irritated. "We need their help!"

"We need no one!" the Human boomed, sending an echo throughout our little cave. Now there was a huge audience—Darion's Death Knights had now gathered to view the uprising. "As your tank, I say we push forward!" The warrior tank held up his sword in a display of power. Others cheered—I grimaced.

"For the Alliance!"

"Grace-" I had made a step toward the archway, where the others were preparing to battle, when a hand gripped my arm. I turned quickly at the cold contact, my nerves calming when I realized it was my brother.

"Lucas," I breathed.

"It's suicide going in there without aid…"

I looked down, afraid of my brother's discerning stare. "I have to. For the other lives lost."

"You'll lose your own."

"Lucas, this is our one shot."

He paused, watching as Zen approached my right side. "This is Zen," my brother stated.

Zen nodded. "Lucas, pleasure to finally meet you…"

"You'll protect her."

It was a statement, not a question. I couldn't determine if Lucas' attitude rooted from being a Death Knight or a possessive brother.

"With my life."

I looked at Lucas, who nodded in surrender. "Be careful." I hugged my brother tightly, shooing away thoughts of the times we'd had together alive. Of the fleeting moments…

My head was pounding, and the urge to break down and cry wasn't helping. "Grace, it's not too late…"

"I'm going," I growled, pulling away.

Let them come. Let them gaze upon the cause of all of their fears!

"I've come this far. There's no turning back." You will die, I chanted in my head.

I blinked the blue out of my vision. I was stronger now, and the Lich King was under pressure, too. He wouldn't take control of me. Not without a fight.

"We need to go. They're leaving," I stated.

Lucas' eyes drifted to the ring around my neck. "I love you, Gracie," he muttered carefully.

I smiled. He may have said it simply out of habit and duty, but it was still just as meaningful to me. "Love you, Lucas."

Zen and I followed our comrade's along the tunnel, the twenty of us looking intimidating. I just hoped we could deliver the same in our actions.

[end]


Will update soon =]