Four Days to Zero Hour

Thunder greeted Jaina when she stepped out of the portal. The sky was a sickly shade of green, but rain was only a threat for the time being. Jaina surveyed the view before her, the ruins of Lordaeron that still lay crumbling where they'd been abandoned almost two decades ago. Even from here she could smell the Blight, Sylvanas's last 'fuck you' to anyone who might seek to claim the city.

It would be another century before anyone could try. And they should, Jaina thought. It would be difficult, and there would be those on both sides who'd object, but they should bring the Forsaken home; and the living descendents of the nation as well.

A smile twisted across her face as she imagined Greymane's reaction should she bring such an idea up, if only to tell him in no uncertain terms that Lordaeron did not belong to either Gilneas or Stormwind.

Before her mind could turn to the problem of cleaning the Blight and making the city livable and unlivable both, Jaina forced herself to focus on the reason she'd come.

On a hill to the south of the Undercity, nestled in a grove of pine trees, was a grave. It was a low mound, surrounded by grass and flowers and yet strangely barren itself, as though living things kept a distance from the body that lay within.

Jaina approached, coming to a stop at the foot of it. She leaned on her runestaff, regarding the grave for many long moments. Thunder rolled in the distance, flashes of lightning the only real illumination besides the dull green glow of Blight to the north.

"Arthas," Jaina said, her voice echoing through the trees. Here in this moment she found herself unable to capture the emotions that had led her to burying the corpse of a man who'd stopped being the man she loved. She could barely remember how it felt to love him, the way she loved Sylvanas.

The irony of the directions her heart took her were not lost on her, as irrelevant as that was right now.

"I have so many questions. Questions you probably couldn't provide the answers to even were you here. But what if you were here?" A dangerous question. Jaina's staff glowed in eerie, repeating patterns and her eyes flickered the same. "What if I brought you back?"

She tilted her head, and like she was discussing the finer points of a magical exercise, continued. "Would you be Arthas? Would you be my friend from childhood, the first man I ever loved? You weren't perfect, Arthas. Clearly there was something inside you that made it easier for the Legion to twist you and turn you into a monster. But something like that resides in all of us. From the most valiant and faithful wielder of the light to the darkest depths of shadow."

Her fingers tightened around the runestaff. "It's just a matter of degrees, isn't it? How far one has to fall." Voice cracking, Jaina whispered. "I've fallen so far. I found the bottom once, in the heart of that crater in Theramore. And then I found a way out of it, with a little help from an unlikely source. And yet, here I am again. And like Theramore, it was my fault."

Jaina's eyes followed the shape of the grave, the gentle slope so devoid of vegetation. "If I brought you back, you wouldn't be him. You'd be something else. Whatever you were before. Whomever you could have been, that's lost now."

Rain started to fall, droplets landing on her head and splattering on the grave.

"And if that is the case, what does that mean for me?"

There'd been a time when one of the high points of Sylvanas's week was making the boy king quake in his oversized boots. Oh, he made a passable effort at disguising his discomfort and fear, but it was obvious to one who dealt in that currency on a daily basis.

But even the smallest runt could grow into an adult. Anduin Wrynn was no longer a cub and it was much more difficult to unnerve him. Sylavams could respect that.

She'd never tell him, but she respected that.

If nothing else she was grateful for the distraction. With Jaina gods knew where and the war at a stalemate, Sylvanas was ready to discuss what to do next, to end the war and remove Northrend as a threat entirely.

Maybe it would be best to sink the whole continent, just to be sure. Or perhaps better if they could... "Pity we dismantled the Vindicaar's weapons…"

"I'm sorry?"

Anduin looked up from a map, raising his eyebrows at Sylvanas. She merely shrugged. "Nothing of consequence, King Wrynn. Just some musings on landscaping."

His expression remained dubious but he gave her a polite nod. "Of course."

"Speaking of landscaping." Sylvanas stepped around the table, moving closer to Anduin and clasping her hands behind her back. Sure, he was harder to unnerve, but she was still going to try. Sylvanas needed to get some entertainment from her unlife. "I've been thinking of a lovely little spot in Northrend to put a crater."

"Leveling Icecrown Citadel would make me feel a lot better about a lot of things too, but first we have to get there. And then we'd have to figure out what to do about the Scourge." Anduin looked up at her, holding his ground in a way that made it impossible to tell if she was managing to disturb him.

Damn. At least he'd only asked once about Jaina. She'd given him the kind of look that could have frozen steel and he had opted not to push the matter. Jaina was … complicated, and Sylvanas was giving her space, at least for now.

Sylvanas merely inclined her head in his direction. "Am I to guess that you're volunteering to wear the helm?"

To his credit, he didn't deny it. "Am I being that obvious? We could spend hours debating the finer points of who should be the jailer of the Scourge, when that time could be better spent creating a system to replace the Lich King every few years. Before the corruption spreads too far, as it did with Bolvar."

There was merit to the idea. While she was loath to accept the idea of any Lich King, the Scourge had only been a pest until they had most decidedly become a threat. It stung that the boy suggested it, and it stung that he was right about him being a prime candidate. Anduin might even last longer than Bolvar had.

"You are talking about training sacrificial lambs to become Lich Kings. A new host every decade in perpetuity." She stared at him, a smile spreading across her lips. "How ruthless. To ruin the lives of young champions and heroes, a thousand thousand times over. I'm impressed, I never thought you had it in you!"

"I would have thought you'd have objections."

"What I have is a counterpoint, Wrynn." Sylvanas stepped up to him so suddenly he stumbled a step and she took a half second to savor that. "Let us make up a champion. Someone who is noble at heart, with a strong sense of self. Someone who has the desire to help people, who can hold onto the ideas of hope and peace. Now take that, and twist it. And imagine the full force of the Scourge brought down onto a single city. And then another. And then another. With our forces spread out, none could stand against such precision strikes. Imagine such a fallen hero, with—"

Pain lanced through Sylvanas, suddenly and inexplicably. It started in her core, deep within the center of her chest and radiated outward through the dessicated remains of her veins. Not like a heart attack, but a familiar kind of pain, like her soul was being flayed. It rippled back, collapsing in on itself before exploding outward again in an agonizing pulse that repeated a half dozen times over before it finally subsided. If Sylvanas could still draw breath, she'd have run out of it.

Anduin loomed over her and she wondered how he'd gotten taller than her before she realized she was laying on the floor. Shoving him roughly away, she grabbed onto the table and pulled herself up. Her limbs fought her every inch of the way, but Sylvanas refused to show any more weakness than she'd inadvertently been forced to show to the king.

"Warchief—"

"Do not say a word." Sylvanas straightened her shoulders, staring down at the map in contemplation. Then without so much as fanfare or thought, she walked past the High King and out of the Hold.

Jaina had a lot of time to think. The only sound up here was an icy wind and the occasional beat of Frostwyrm wings. They circled the Citadel by the hundreds now, while far below, tens of thousands of Scourge massed. It was as though Bolvar's last command had been to wait, and so wait they did. What Jaina didn't know was how long she had before that wore off, and the Scourge turned their attention to destruction.

If they even did anything at all.

It made Jaina sad to think about. Every one of the Scourge had once been a person. A person with hopes and dreams and personality, who'd thought and felt and lived. And now all that was left were empty shells devoid of conscious thought.

But hadn't the Forsaken been like that once, too?

If Sylvanas could free them, maybe Jaina could do the same.

Her eyes turned to where the Helm still rested, perched atop a shaft of ice. Slowly, she turned towards it, considering her options. If the Scourge needed to be controlled, that was the means to do it. But what if she used the helm only briefly? Just enough to give them a command. To free them.

Jaina blinked and realized she was standing next to it, her hand reaching out, fingers almost close enough to brush. She stepped back, lifting her hand to look at it and shaking her head to clear the sudden fog.

"Kiry?"

"Yes, Lady?" The Frostwyrm materialized from somewhere to Jaina's left. If she had thoughts about what had just transpired, she kept them to herself.

"Are there any Scourge elsewhere in the world? Or have they all pulled back to Icecrown?"

"There are a few isolated pockets," Kiry replied. Jaina could see her tongue moving through the rotted half of her face. "But they're gone still as well."

"Do you know what they're waiting for?"

Kiry merely shrugged. "A command, I think. The vast majority aren't like the Wyrms or the Death Knights. They weren't given agency by the Lich King. So they don't know what to do without orders."

So she'd been right. Jaina frowned, leaning on her staff and studying Kiry. "What do you think will happen, without a Lich King?"

Confusion crossed Kiry's features. "There must always be a Lich King."

"But what if there wasn't?"

"Chaos? Death on a massive scale?"

"That isn't massive?" Jaina gestured down towards the ground. "Could you imagine what I could do with an army like that?"

Yes, she could take that army and point it at any enemy she wanted. She could obliterate Azshara, crush the remnants of the Legion, wash over world after world and cleanse the universe of all that plagued it until, at least, peace reigned. Nothing would ever threaten Azeroth again.

"Lady?"

Jaina blinked, returning to the present. She worked her jaw, clenching her fists as she returned to the Throne and took a seat. "It's nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing to me." That was a different voice, and Jaina looked for the source. Standing at the stairs was a short figure. The figure stepped out of the shadows, eyes a brilliant shade of gold. "Do you have any idea how many people I put on that throne before I realized it should have been you all along?"

Jaina stared at the gnome, confusion warring with anger until she suddenly realized who she was staring at. "...Chromie?"

"The one and only!" She glanced up at Kiry as she strolled past her, then returned her attention to Jaina. Chromie looked her up and down approvingly.

"Okay this is much better than last time." She tapped her chin and mumbled. "Or was it the time before that or two times before that one? That was really bad…Not as bad as those times with Nathanos or the murloc, now those were a disaster…but anyway."

Jaina gestured with a hand, as if to say 'please, proceed.'

"Sorry, sorry, it all gets jumbled up sometimes and I can never remember if I'm meeting someone next week or three years ago. You know how it is."

"Can't say that I do." Jaina leaned forward, the glow of her eyes narrowing to points. Chromie might be rambling but there was enough there for Jaina to start drawing conclusions and she didn't like the conclusions she was coming to. "Let's cut to the chase and why don't you just tell me what's going on?"

"It was always supposed to be you." Chromie pointed at her, and at the throne. "You, here. But not… earlier you. Not the apprentice, not the Lord Admiral, none of the Jainas in between. I tried all of them, and a hundred more people besides. But it's you. Here, as you are in all your unliving glory."

Jaina rubbed her temple. "I hate time travel."

"Not really time travel, more like alternate history." Chromie shrugged. "But we're here now."

"But why me? Why here, why now?"

"It was Sylvanas, originally," Chromie explained. "But the war went differently. She made different choices, she didn't have you to temper her."

"Sylvanas was the Lich King?!"

"I didn't say that, I just said it was Sylvanas."

Exhaling in frustration, Jaina pondered what it would be like to strangle a bronze dragon. "Get to the point."

"You keep asking the question. What happens if there's no Lich King? And there are as many answers as times you've asked that question. I've seen hints, similarities between histories and timelines and I can only guess at which one the right answer is, but it's a pretty good guess and if I'm right you already know the answer. You've been thinking about it."

Jaina looked at the Helm, her hands itching to touch it. "And if we're wrong?"

"Well, it'll be easier to kill you the next time I think. Actually it was a lot easier to do than I thought it would be, except I'd expected that to happen like… ten years ago or something."

Sadness suddenly welled up within Jaina's chest. "So I don't have any choice? Is there no timeline where I can just be happy?"

"You always have a choice Jaina. And there have been some. But this one, to save it, certain events needed to happen. And if all goes well, you'll get your good ending. It's just, in any good story, a good ending needs to be earned."

Chromie was right about one thing; Jaina had been thinking about what to do, and she'd already come to a decision. It might be a decision she'd regret, and a decision the whole world would regret. Either way, there'd be no turning back. "Can you show me? One of those timelines?"

"Which one?"

Jaina opened her mouth, but no words came out because she didn't know where to start. Was there a timeline without the Scourge and Legion? With or without Arthas? Without a Lich King? With Theramore intact? What about one where she was with Sylvanas and nothing bad ever happened? There were a thousand points in her life where a different outcome might have led to something good. Jaina's voice broke. "I… don't know."

"I'll give you the highlights," Chromie said understandingly.

Like a veil lifting, Jaina's vision shifted. She could see, in flashes and shifting images, other lives.

Arthas in the eyes of her son. And then a flash, her father surviving and Theramore joining the Horde. In the next vision, the Legion never came and she got to finish her studies and eventually lead Dalaran. One where she never left Kul Tiras. Another with the face of her daughter as she wed a Kaldorei priestess. A strange world with one moon and a beautiful Queen of ice and snow. A Third War where she and Sylvanas fell in love fighting the Scourge together. And much more recently, surviving the attack at her mother's funeral.

And a dozen more besides.

There was never more than a glimpse, no way of knowing what else happened in those worlds, the kind of thing she thrived on; no dive into the politics and state of the world that surely would be different and would likely forever remain in her mind as unanswered questions.

Moments after it started, it was over. Jaina blinked her eyes, dry as they were, feeling tears that could not be shed.

"The future from here, for you… is up to you." Chromie looked at her, hopeful and yet wary. She hadn't shown any of those bad endings, and Jaina knew better than to ask to see them.

Jaina looked from Chromie, to Kiry, and then stared up at the frigid sky.

It should always have been her. The duty should have fallen to her, should have been hers and hers alone. Her fault, and her responsibility…

But better late than never. Slowly, decisively, Jaina rose from the frozen throne, and reached for the helm.

There was no way out. Alleria had accepted that hours ago. The cave-in had blocked the only exit to the cavern and as far as they'd searched there'd been nothing save a thin crack that ran up far out of sight of any light either of them could produce.

So at least they wouldn't suffocate.

She'd had, briefly, the thought that maybe they could call for help, but the radio Ravenwing had provided for her an eternity ago had not survived the battle and cave-in. Considering the Goblin design it was a miracle it hadn't exploded.

Between searching for an exit and then the proximity of Liadrin and that burning fire that seared through her veins, Alleria was exhausted. It was probably something they needed to talk about. Liadrin made her feel things she hadn't in years; but so did Valeera. Valeera, however, didn't hurt to touch.

Yet Alleria wasn't entirely sure she minded that pain. It had been an entirely literal definition of 'searing kiss.'

"We're going to have to dig our way out," Liadrin said. The silence braking almost startled Alleria.

"What about that idea I had?"

"Putting out enough Light to draw the attention of someone would probably kill you."

"But—"

"And that's assuming anyone is looking for us, and capable of sensing that to begin with."

"Well, if you're going to kill me with the light I can think of much more pleasurable ways to go about it." Her lips still burned, and the heat was worse the more she thought about it and if they weren't trapped like this Alleria might just have seen exactly how much Light she could take.

"You know, I once read a story like this. Only it was Jaina and Sylvanas stuck in the elevator in Grommash Hold."

Alleria blanched. "That's my sister!"

"There's an entire underground writer's guild about them, and others."

She couldn't tell if Liadrin was teasing her or not, but she sounded amused. Alleria tried to push the thoughts of her sister out of her mind. "And this is something you're aware of?"

"I've got a really popular Wrynnhoof novella in circulation."

Alleria knocked Liadrin's shoulder with her own. "You're pulling my leg."

Liadrin chuckled, which told Alleria absolutely nothing.

"I'm going to assume you're pulling my leg. I can't actually picture you writing stories about people."

"If it makes you feel better I didn't write it." Liadrin's hand rested suddenly on her leg, and even through the armor and fabric Alleria felt her skin heat up and the Void recoil.

She was getting used to that. Just a little bit. The writhing inside her gut and chest and head, the voices whispering every time Liadrin was near. It was, oddly, not as loud as when she was near her sister. Maybe because the Light and Void were opposites, whereas Death was… something else entirely.

Regardless of the reasons, she figured it was something they should talk about. Later. "I'm not sure that makes me feel better at all. Now about this digging idea… I'm afraid I didn't bring a shovel."

"I've got my shield." Alleria could hear the grimace in Liadrin's voice. "And my sword, loath as I am to damage it that way."

"Bow is strong enough to do some digging," Alleria admitted, relighting the make-shift torch she'd used in their explorations earlier. "So where do we start?"

The cave-in was a few meters to their left. Alleria spent a few heart beats too long watching the shadows from the torch play across Liadrin's face before she stood and walked to the crevice.

"We start there." Liadrin pointed at a cap in the rock that looked like it might be possible to dislodge.

Alleria was less sure of that, but she did get an idea when their hands brushed. "What if we took turns using the Light and Shadow? Increase our strength."

Void infused her, rippling through her body. To Liadrin's credit, she didn't shy away even if she couldn't quite hide her discomfort. And then Alleria slammed into the rocks. Once. Twice. A third time. She stepped back, a noticeable dent in the rocks and boulders.

Liadrin burned with the Light and Alleria felt as though her skin caught fire. It was blinding, and it was going to be a long night.

After initial fits and starts, they found an easier pace of ten minutes each, though it was still exhausting, hard work. At the back of her mind, Alleria worried about what they'd find when they broke back through. If the Scourge would still be there, or something worse.

Alleria was on her fifth rotation when she heard something on the other side. Immediately, she pulled in the Void, returning to her usual form and pressed her ear to the thin gap that she could feel air coming through.

There were voices, and they were speaking Common. That didn't mean they weren't Scourge forces though. While she weighed her options, she returned to Liadrin, holding up her torch. It had almost burned out, and she was running out of easily accessible cloth to rip out of her armor to keep it lit. "There's someone on the other side."

"Scourge?"

"I can't tell, but they've probably heard us."

Liadrin pursed her lips. "When we break free, I want you to run and keep going. Don't look back."

"Yeah, no." Alleria put her hand on Liadrin's hip. "If there's going to be some kind of heroic final stand we're going to do it together."

Hammering started to echo through the cavern. Stone and rock crumbled with every blow. Alleria lifted her bow and drew an arrow, while Liadrin took point, shield up.

The last boulder practically disintegrated into dust and pebbles, but Alleria held her shot until she could tell if they were dealing with friend or foe. "Who are you?!"

"Don't shoot!" A hand thrust a torch into view, and then the bearer carefully stepped inside. It was a Draenei woman in Rangari armor that had clearly seen better days. "I'm A'sooka."

A'sooka led them out of the cavern and into Icecrown's perpetual overcast. Three figures waited outside, and Alleria stiffened when she realized two of them were Sin'dorei Death Knights. A'sooka was quick to step between her and them. "It's okay, they're free."

The last figure turned to face them. Valeera looked at them both with relief in her eyes. "You have no idea how stressed you've made me."

"Where are all the Scourge?" Liadrin looked around, and for the first time Alleria realized they were all alone.

One of the Death Knights started to answer her, but the ground shook. Barely a heartbeat later, the top of Icecrown Citadel exploded, shattering like glass.