Author's Voice: Sorry everyone for the late update, but I was trapped in November Novel Writing Month hell. I'm done now, so I can get back to my fictions.

Disclaimer: Warcraft terms, characters and the like all belong to Blizzard.

Part 3: The Oracle

Though Uther took the time to pay homage at any Altar of Kings on a weekly basis, it was with a troubled spirit that he entered the foundation of his faith and a heavy heart that bowed him low before the dais. Jaina's obvious sorrow and inability to simply move on with her life bothered him far more than he ever let on to her. The most powerful Sorceress in Dalaran she might be, but to Uther, she was still the small child he recalled bouncing on his knee when he was but a newly made Paladin and she the child of a great and mighty warrior.

He had similar memories of another young one, the son of Terenas, but he chose to forget those. Concentrate on the future, he often said, and dwell not on the past.

You forget your own advice today, a quiet voice interrupted not but a moment after he knelt before the grand alabaster stairs leading to the main dais.

Head lifting, Uther could not help the startled intake of his breath or the automatic furrowing of his brows. In looking all around him, he could not see the source of the voice. No one else stood near him, anywhere. "Who goes there? What trickery is this? Only those who follow the Light may enter these halls."

We are before you, behind you, around you and within you, the voice replied cryptically. Be still and fear us not, Champion. We are not here to play games. We are here to give you an edict. You will further the goals of the Light.

Struck dumb with awe, Uther immediately bowed low again, hands clasped before him as he averted his eyes toward the ground in reverence. "Forgive me, servant of the Light. I grow too paranoid in my old age. Tell this humble one what can be done to bring light to darkness."

The voice chuckled, soft as distant windchimes captured in a light breeze, inviting and enchanting all at once. Rise, Champion. You have always served well. But what we ask now is most crucial. You must go now with the Sorceress and find the lost Prince of Lordaeron.

Uther's brows shot up in an expression of surprise, and then furrowed right back down again, skeptical suddenly, "What do you ask of me, to destroy him at last?"

No, we want you to save him. To free his soul from the dark runeblade, Frostmourne.

To his credit, Uther bit down on his tongue to stifle the instant retort he had resting there. He bit it hard enough to taste copper, and then slowly drew in a breath while his chaotic thoughts settled. "I have never questioned my duty. Not once in all my life dedicated to the Light. But this I must protest! That boy betrayed the light, turned his back on his paladin-hood and murdered his own father, a man I loved like a brother. And you wish for me to save him?"

We do not expect you to understand, Champion. We understand why you hesitate. But the prince has fulfilled his part in the prophecy of old. It is time he returned from darkness.

"He should bloody well remain in that darkness!" the paladin spat, raising a gloved fist toward the last direction the voice heeded from. But, the anger drained from him so quickly, his hand slowly lowering as the voice held silent, allowing his own inner reproaches to do their work. "Forgive me, I allow my own emotions to cloud my judgment. If this is the will of the Light, then I shall see it done."

But you still hesitate. You have questions.

"Yes, I do. You resurrected me to serve. I am honored to continue my life as a paladin, but I cannot fathom why you would redeem this fallen man. How can he return, how can he possibly atone for what he has done?" Uther's grief touched his voice, a hand grasping against his chest as he felt that familiar knot of pain. Arthas' betrayal had broken his spirit for so long, and he kept it hidden inside for the sake of others. Now it felt as if the one thing he took comfort in now tore up those old wounds and left them bleeding anew.

We knew of his betrayal. We knew the consequences of allowing his path to spiral into shadow. We allowed him to go.

Suddenly, it all made sense. Uther's eyes widened in shock, his knees and faith shaken. "You... allowed him to go into the darkness? He killed scores of people, murdered his own father, caused the deaths of thousands with his actions. And yet, this is acceptable?"

Had he not played his part, thousands more would have died and the world you know now would be but a cinder. Let not your faith slip, Champion. Arthas played a role in a scheme greater than anything you could understand. We have left him in shadow too long. Let him come home. Remember, warrior, it is our place to forgive. It is what sets us apart from the darkness. Guard well your heart.

And the voice spoke no further, gone like the flame of a candle left out in the rain. The palpable sensation of another presence evaporated and Uther knew he was alone again. His knees buckled and he found himself kneeling yet again before the Altar of Kings. Fervently his hands clasped together and he prayed. For himself, for Jaina, and for the soul of a man he now knew had been used as a puppet, for a greater good.

(To be continued.)