In her youth, Jaina had been considered naïve and idealistic. Her resolve persevered even in the darkest of times. The fall of Lordaeron and the Quel'thalas. Even after Arthas, killed thousands and tens of thousands and ruined countless more lives. His death still hurt even after she thought there was nothing left of the man she once loved. When an adventurer brought her the locket she once gave him, she broke down and wept.
That locket became dust in Theramore. And shortly after, Arthas walked back into her life like nothing ever happened. Only she had seemingly moved on. Kalec came into her life and though it had been recent, he had already become such a comforting presence. Whereas Arthas briefly urged her to take her revenge on Garrosh, Kalec had been the one to come and stop her. He'd give her clarity. Jaina did not want to become just like Arthas. Just like Garrosh.
She almost began to think Arthas had been a hallucination until he showed up once again. Before Theramore, she would have told the world of his resurgence. Even now she felt she needed to have him watched. But his genuine offer of killing Garrosh Hellscream tempted her.
After he told her of his request, she had returned to her new quarters. As the new leader of the Kirin Tor, she was given the quarters that her station demanded. A whole wing of the Violet Citadel was put aside for her own use. The very same quarters her old mentor and friend, Antonidas, had used. Though the furniture was changed, the rooms had a sense of familiarity. It was not home, but comfortable.
The object of Arthas's request sat there on her new desk. A lock of white hair. Such a simple thing.
Jaina rarely did the kind of magic he asked for, but she was highly skilled and this spell was simple enough even if she did not know who she was looking for. She isolated the lock of hair within a circle of magic and started to use the location spell.
Easily, the spell told her that the person of interest was located in the Eastern Kingdoms, specifically the northern half of the continent. Jaina felt that would not satisfy Arthas and made the spell more concentrated. It revealed the person was in the far eastern part of the Plaguelands.
At that, Jaina wrote a terse letter. Jaina still did not know how to deal with the situation. Everything was different. She was not the naïve young mage anymore.
As the leader of the Kirin Tor now, she could practically get anyone to do what she asked. After tracking down a young apprentice within the Citadel, she ordered the young man to deliver the letter to Arthas at the Legerdemain Lounge. He probably expected her to return and tell him herself what she found. Jaina did not want to look at him again, at least until she could figure out how to.
When she returned to her study, she could not help but become more curious about the strange situation. He never apologized for any of the atrocities he committed nor show any kind of remorse. No, instead he just wanted to find someone. Who was Arthas so keen to find and why was the person in the Plaguelands?
Jaina's curiosity won out. She pulled out a hand mirror from one of the drawers and now started a different kind of spell. The spell condensed around the white hair. The violet magic swirled before floating over to the mirror. Mirrors were very useful in scrying, better than water at showing what she needed to see.
The mirror slowly revealed a dimly lit room. In the sparsely furnished room, a young girl sat on a simple bed. She was studiously examining a thick book spread across her lap. An undead dog and a fey darter, a strange combination, lay curled up asleep on the bed next to her. Jaina could not see anything of the girl's facial features underneath the unruly mane of snow white hair, which was proof that this was who Arthas sought.
Out of view in the mirror, the sound of a door being opened caused the girl to snap the book shut and looked up at the intruder. A rotting ghoul shambled inside, carrying a metal tray of food.
The mage did not care about what the ghoul was doing. She focused on the girl. Silver scar tissue spread across a jagged patch of the girl's left cheek. Similarly, more scar tissue could be seen barely peaking out from the collar of her robes. A smaller scar cut through the girl's eyebrow as well. Her eyes...the ocean itself paled compared to those deep cobalt blue pools.
Jaina recognized those eyes. Tears started to form as Jaina realized who the young girl was. It had not even been a month since Jaina lost so many people at Theramore. People she loved. Now, not only did Arthas come back from the grave but so did another whose appearance seemed to hurt even more. As an undead, it seemed more likely for him to return. But...This girl. Jaina only knew her for a few hours before she was forever lost to her. Or so it had seemed so long ago.
As a midwife, Sarina Rudges was highly respected in Boralus society. She helped many young mothers give birth and saw the births of many children each year. She also witnessed stillbirths and mothers die in childbirth. Sometimes it could not be helped and it was rare. So whenever a child was born dead or died shortly after, no one blamed Sarina. She was experienced and sought after by many. Young mothers who might not want anyone to know of their condition knew Sarina would have discretion.
So when the Admiral's own daughter asked for Sarina, the midwife was not entirely surprised. Younger women, even brilliant young mages like Miss Proudmoore. Especially considering the young mage's own lineage, Sarina could not dare refuse her.
It was difficult birth. An impatient child, the baby was born a month early, giving Sarina very little time to prepare. The baby was born feet first, rather than head first like normal births should be. The young Proudmoore bled profusely. Not only that, but after all that difficulty, the baby was a runt.
When Sarina held the bloody writhing mass, she restrained a smile. A runt and born prematurely? Anything could go wrong. The child might die even before Sarina had a chance to take her away. Dying would be a kinder fate than the one Gorak Tul planned.
That night, Sarina enacted her plan. She quietly entered the young mage's room. As a precaution, Sarina insisted that the young miss Proudmoore stay in the midwife's own home. She always kept a room available for such an occasion.
While the room had been cleaned up, the smell of blood lingered. Jaina Proudmoore slept in the small bed, weak from blood loss and heavily medicated. Nothing would wake her that night. Next to the bed was a small crib. The baby slept blissfully unaware of how violent and bloody her entrance to the world had been. Or how soon and violent her exit would be.
Sarina now used her magic, given to her by the generous Gorak Tul. After a moment, Jaina Proudmoore seemed to stand over her own sleeping body.
The old midwife relished in her youthful appearance briefly, but she needed to get the deed over with. Gorak Tul knew of the baby's existence and was becoming impatient already. Sarina took the baby into her arms gently lest she wake it. She despised the crying of infants. One of her subordinates would tell the mother the horrible news of the baby dying in its sleep.
She quickly left her own home and then made her way out of the city. This was a familiar task. The baby was not the first Sarina had given over to Gorak Tul, nor would it be the last. The master never explicitly told the old witch what he did with the infants, but she could certainly guess.
Since it was so late at night, practically no one was on the streets. A few guards would lazily patrol on occasion, but Sarina knew how to avoid the half asleep sluggards.
Sarina made her way out towards the docks to a lone boat. A hooded figure stood in the boat, oars in hand. He lifted his head at Sarina's approach.
"Do you have it?" He asked.
Sarina curled her lip up disgust. "Of course I do."
She boarded the boat and they quickly went off as quietly into the night. To cross the bay from Boralus to Drustvar took several hours. By the time the small boat reached the shore, the sky was starting to lighten thought it was still an hour or two before dawn. The rowman stayed behind while Sarina disembarked. His only job was to ferry her back and forth whenever she asked.
The baby only woke when she left the rowboat, and started to wail. Sarina did not care. She hiked up through the forest on a familiar path. For the most part, the eastern half of Drustvar was protected from Drust magic by a meddlesome stag. Small pockets of old Drust ruins were the only places that Drust magic could be used without incurring the notice of others. Sarina headed to one of these areas.
Pale light filtered through the dark forest. Stone ruins scattered amongst the roots and fallen leaves. Sarina put the crying baby onto one of these stone outcroppings. She needed reagents in order to summon the Huntsman and could not do it while holding the loud mongrel. She assumed it would be safe enough. Near the hunting grounds of the local town, long ago predators learned to stay away from the area.
She needed plenty of dead wood along with bones. Along with something with a heartbeat. The hunting grounds provided that usually. Some hunter would have laid a trap sometime in the night for a rabbit or squirrel. Sarina did not need anything big. She wandered the hunting grounds searching for signs of human activity.
As Sarina looked however, she heard the distant thundering of hooves. At first she did not care. Some messenger or ranger was travelling through the woods on urgent business, but as she continued through the forest a dark feeling starting to creep in the back of her mind. What if Proudmoore had woken during the night and found her baby missing. What if they sent guards off to look for the baby? Could they have tracked her down?
Sarina forgot about looking for any sacrifice and started to hurriedly return to the ruins.
Two heavily armored men entered the area of the ruins. Even from far away, Sarina could smell the stench of death clinging to them. The air chilled drastically as if winter itself suddenly arrived.
One of them walked toward the infant. Every blade of grass he stepped on froze on contact. As soon as the baby could see the man's face under the hood, it stopped crying and stared. Sarina watched in dismay as the man picked up the baby and casually walked back to his companion.
"She is still alive." His voice did some kind strange echoing noise that caused Sarina to tremble with uncontrollable fear.
"She? How disappointing," The other said, with the same unsettling voice but deeper.
Without any ceremony, the two left without another word. The hooded man with the infant took greater care to mount his horse. Gorak Tul would not be getting his promised child it seemed. As strong as Sarina was, something about these two men terrified her.