Astraeah returned to the gates of New Hearthglen with fire in her eyes and a company of the Alliance's finest troops at her back. The rest of the group was present as well, weapons drawn and standing at her side. The bodies of those Archerus had slain in his rampage remained, but they were different. They had decayed to the bone already. A fresh layer of snow was falling from the darkening sky. Archerus was nowhere to be seen.
Enraged that the man she so deeply loved, who she so deeply sought to protect was missing, Astraeah leveled her blade, "Forward march! Seize the cathedral! Find Knight-Lieutenant Truesteel!"
Before the regiment could even begin their assault, she charged forward. The others followed suit. And just as it happened before, Barean Westwind made his appearance. He wore a cocky grin on his worn guise. His eyes were set upon the red-haired paladin, seeing the same fires of retribution burning in her eyes that he saw in Archerus. However, as he raised his eyes to the Alliance warriors at her back, he grit his teeth and raised his right hand.
"You will not undo all that we have accomplished, human!" he declared, a deep, corrupting power bleeding from his palms. Black arcs formed between his body and the decrepit corpses of his followers.
At his will, the soldiers of the Scarlet Onslaught rose again. Weak, putrid flesh formed over bone and skin over flesh. As this arcing grew with intensity, more of his thralls exited from the cathedral. The spell channeled and more corpses rose from beneath the freshly fallen snow.
Astraeah stopped her advance as the corpses rose from the earth. Her curly red hair blew in the gusting arctic winds. This was all a sort of deja vu for her. She recalled her time in the Crusade, where she faced down the undead just as she did now. Compulsively, she glanced down at herself. She still wore the tabard of Stormwind – this was still very much real.
"Proctor, Arcil, Silvana, Gwen, circumvent this. Search everything. Search everywhere. Find Archerus!" she commanded through her teeth, right hand tightly clenching the grip of her longsword. Her heart beat like a drum in her chest. Knowing she was in no mood to argue, the four stole off to the side to search the surrounding buildings for their captain. Barean had finished his resurrections.
The Alliance soldiers and the Scarlet Onslaught were now evenly matched. The undead thralls even formed ranks.
"Control their advance and overpower them. I will handle Admiral Westwind!" Astraeah ordered, turning her head back to the company. The respective platoon commanders reiterated their orders and the four platoons within the company split to form a line of skirmish.
When she gave the word, they began a full, organized charge. The undead did as well.
The clashing of steel and steel reminded Astraeah of days that had since passed her by. Her days of glory as a young Scarlet Crusader, proving herself to the zealots that she idolized. As she carved her way through them, leaving in her wake an expertly created pile of undead corpses, Astraeah had her opening. She charged at Westwind.
With a broad flourish, she aimed to cut clean through his abdomen. Her hit connected, but Westwind was nonplussed. Blood spilled from his gut and he just laughed.
"You really are as naive as you were back then!" exclaimed Barean with amusement. "Dispose of her, Abbendis."
Astraeah heard the unsheathing of another blade and jumped back to the stairs of the cathedral. There before her stood Brigette Abbendis in all of her radiant beauty. She was an icon of the Scarlet Crusade – a genuine hope for humanity's continuation and the restoration of Lordaeron. When Renn looked into her eyes, though, there was nothing. She was dead, just like all of the others. A puppet.
"You are a blight on humanity, traitor!" Brigette exclaimed, swinging her massive blade at Astraeah once more, forcing her back. "You turned your back on us! You seek to undo all that we have done and ruin all that we have saved!"
Still, her strikes were swift and she recovered quickly, but Astraeah found an opening. She looked Brigette in the eyes, but she could still see her face. She was still every bit as beautiful and pure as she was when Renn first joined the Scarlet Crusade. She had to remind herself that the woman she saw then was now Brigette Abbendis.
With her more agile blade, Astraeah parried Brigette's claymore, throwing her swing off balance and sending it from her grip. In one swift swing, Astraeah beheaded the mentor she once idolized. As her head rolled, the corpse dropped the the ground. Brigette Abbendis was finally free, her soul given to the Light, as she would've wanted it to be.
Barean growled at Astraeah's victory. "You've left me no choice, cretin. I was hoping to make use of this body for a little while longer, but another will take its place. It's time I end this!"
Westwind veiled his body in shadow. Human howls of pain echoed out over the frozen tundra, bringing the battling Alliance soldiers and even the undead to pause. They gazed at his heinous metamorphosis.
The veil of black passed with a gust of wind. Before them now stood a Dreadlord of the Burning Legion in all its demonic might. "My guise held for long enough. I am Vezal of the Legion! The herald of your doom!" he said with a growl, spreading his wings and brandishing his mighty claws.
Astraeah was taken aback. This is why the Admiral was alive – because his body had been taken by one of these demons. These fiends are the very reason for her father's death – for her brother's death. They were the reason that she became the monster that killed innocent people because somebody said they blasphemed against the church. She was the reason why Archerus lived for years in the Plaguelands, fighting, starving, surviving.
A new conviction grew in her. She had come this far all for redemption. She found a man along the way who she hurt, but he didn't turn her away – even if he didn't know what she'd done. He accepted her in this quest for purpose. He was her purpose now. Summoning forth that conviction, Astraeah leaped into the air, aiming her meager blade at the heart of the Nathrezim.
She loosed a mighty roar, her eyes glowing with righteous fire and body emitting an aura of glory. This aura stunned the unprepared dreadlord and in that instant, her blessed blade struck into the dark heart of the demon lord.
The vile demon roared in pain, its dark red blood spilling from the gouge in his chest. His torso twist and his head thrashed, trying to throw her off of him. Only when he grabbed at her with those gnarly claws did Vexal finally rip the paladin's blade from his chest. He threw her against the steps with a loud thud, Astraeah's armor worsening the impact. She was staggered, but did deal a mortal blow to the demon lord.
The company of soldiers were slowly overcoming the undead horde, but there was little they could do even if unoccupied to aid their temporary company leader. Vexal cauterized his wound with a bright, sickening green flame. He began to channel his demonic power into another spell, those green felflames sparking to life in his palms.
Astraeah pushed herself onto her knees, just barely stumbling to her feet when she saw the Dreadlord preparing to end her. She closed her eyes and braced herself, ready for the end.
The tide of flame came in an instant. Astraeah fell to her knees, feeling the intense heat on her cheeks and heating her armor. It threatened to boil her alive inside of it. She could hear the inferno as it was cast upon her, but the heat soon faded. A bulwark of Light protected her and before her was one of the fabled heralds of humanity – a Guardian of Ancient Kings.
His golden armor reflected the green flames, its might ivory and steel shield projecting an even greater bulwark. Her mouth was left agape, azure eyes dancing around from behind the safety of the shield. It was a miracle. The hooded protector stood just over a foot taller than her, but was far bulkier. It was almost as if there were stone underneath it all.
"WHA— WHAT IS THIS?!" Vexal exclaimed. His spell petered out and the Guardian dropped his bulwark. In its right hand appeared a golden spear, tipped with glass and ivory, and it lunged.
The spear ran deep into Vexal's flesh. This Light-attuned being, a servant of the Titans constructed to protect its children, had driven its holy spear into its flesh. A deluge of blood spilled across the spear's head and the Guardian tore it from his flesh. Vexal staggered back, a fire growing from the wound.
It spread across his blackened skin, purifying the demon in holy flame. It roared in pain and in one last bid to strike at the Titanic servant, he lunged forward with his heinous claws. It clashed again with the shield, shattering his claws. Vexal began to laugh amidst his roars of pain.
"This is not the end, mortals! I will return for you! I will have your heads! This world – and all worlds – will burn in the Master's fire!" Vexal screamed in defiance before the Guardian's holy flames covered his body. With one last morbid laugh, Vexal and the fire passed on a breeze, leaving only ashes.
The Guardian passed as well in a blinding flash, leaving a shimmer in his wake. Astraeah stood there, her cheeks flushed and armor scuffed from colliding with the harsh stone. The last of the undead were slain and the platoon leaders began to corral their soldiers.
She collected her blade and slid it back into its scabbard. Drawing a deep breath, she glanced around for her party. She did not find them, but she did however find Amaren's truesilver blade laying on the stairs. Astraeah's heart sunk, but she collected the weapon nonetheless.
In the eerie stillness of the aftermath, she steeled herself and entered the cathedral. Once she was past the entryway, she could see as plain as day the man she loved laid onto his side. He was perfectly still, yet she could hear his strained breathing. Had Barean or... Vexal, whoever – had they crippled him?
Cautiously, she approached him, dropping the weapon to the ground and crawling to his side. She slipped her gauntlets from her hands and pressed them to his cheeks.
"Wake up, Archerus... it's over, you're safe..." Astraeah whispered, "Please..."
Slowly, Archerus' eyes blinked open. She would be able to see it in his red eyes, that they'd done something to him. What Vexal made him see permeated his every thought. As he stared up at the woman he loved, all he could see was that grimace. Those hateful eyes. It was like a dagger through his heart.
"Why, Astraeah?" he asked, his voice struggling. "Why would you lie for all this time?"
"I never intended for you to discover what happened then. The monster I was... was not me. They controlled me, and they controlled everyone –" Astraeah closed her eyes, tears pouring down her cheeks. "I did this for you, Archerus. Originally, I came because I wanted redemption. But now that I've seen the kind of man that you are, and what drives you, redemption is far from my chiefest interest."
Her eyes opened and she struggled with her voice even more. She brushed her fingertips over his face, into his ever-growing beard, then back to his cheeks. Archerus just looked back at her, a look of betrayal and despair in his eyes.
"I will serve you until the day I die, Archerus Truesteel. I will never be apart from you. I do expect your forgiveness, though I may beg for it. This is the price I pay for my sins against you."
Archerus moved his hands to press against the cold floor of the cathedral, Astraeah's bare hands helping him move. She moved closer, resting her hands against his neck.
"I would die for you, Archerus..."
Blinking a tear out of his eye, Archerus moved a heavy hand up to her shoulder. He pulled her in closer. "You can't die until I do, Astraeah. Until that day comes, you serve me. For your sins, this is penance..."
His hand clutched her neck, pulling her into his lips for a gentle, bittersweet kiss.