Fragments of the Past.
The moon was not even visible over the tops of the surrounding mountains, as the heroes appeared before the gates to Karazhan. As if to greet them into the dark and dreary valley, the clouds opened, and it poured it down within seconds of their feet touching the blackened soil.
"Just so you know, it's always like this here," Jaina informed Yrel once they were inside the outer door of the tower and were huddled together in the porch. "If it's not raining, it's windy as hell in Deadwind Pass."
"With a name like that, such grim weather does not surprise me." Yrel shook her hair out. "What happened here?"
"No one knows, the valley's been this way as long as the tower has been here, and its been here for as long as people can remember." Jaina explained.
"This is the residence of the most powerful mage in the world, who was corrupted by Sargeras and let the Horde invade this world, naturally the weather is going to reflect that." Alleria snapped. "Soon as the Legion's gone, I'll rid Medivh of his head again. He's proven once that he's not to be trusted."
Yrel opened her mouth to ask a question, but the ancient wooden door swung slowly open, and the spine-chilling noise the hinges made silenced her question.
"Are we expected?" Arthas asked what some of them were thinking.
"If we're expected, then let's not disappoint our host." Sylvanas said brightly.
She was dressed in pieces of her old ranger garb and her paladin rainments, as after awakening from her induced coma she had found her connection to the Light was not as strong as before; she could still feel it, and could summon it to her aid, but it did not flow through her as it once had.
They stepped inside and were immediately greeted by a ghost from the tower's storied past. Dust swirled up from the floor and took the form of a balding man in a tailored suit and brown boots.
"Greetings travellers, welcome to Karazhan. May I take your coats?" he greeted them, his voice sounding as clear as if he were still living. "My Master is currently away on important business, but you are welcome to spend the night here and shelter from the awful weather outside."
"I…" Sylvanas stammered, unsure how to respond.
"Is the Legion here?" Yrel asked without thinking.
"Who are the Legion? We get many travellers visiting the tower throughout the year…" the man gave her a confused look, not commenting on her appearance.
"Have there been any unwelcome visitors recently?" Uther asked, realising the man was likely trapped in the past.
"Not recently good sir, people do not often visit while the Master is away," the man informed them. "They believe the Master will see them if they turn up unannounced."
"Are there any guests staying here at the moment?" Vereesa asked, picking up on Uther's line of questionnning.
"Young master Khadgar is recovering from a nasty altercation at the Master's insistence," the man rubbed his chin.
"What about Turalyon? Is he here?" Alleria urged.
"General Turalyon? He departed some time ago." The man said brightly, before gesturing to the left. "If you would kindly stable your horse in the stables before proceeding inside, Moroes would be most displeased if…"
"Who are you calling a 'horse'?" Yrel growled, reaching for her mace.
The man did not answer, instead disappearing in a cloud of dust. Yrel cursed using words that did not translate to dispel her anger.
"If Turalyon's not here? Where the hell is he?" Arthas hissed.
"This tower is renown for its complexity, for things not being as simple as they seem," Uther calmed his former protégé. "For example: we just interacted with the ghost of someone who died in the First War. Even if he's not here, we should ensure Karazhan does not fall or remain in Legion hands."
"To the stables then?" Jaina suggested. "Since the doorman was nice enough to point us in that direction."
"It would be rude of us not to go where we are bid," Arthas chuckled.
"The Herald lies at the top of this accursed tower, the fastest way to get to him is up, so we should go this way," Yrel ground her teeth, before striding towards the stairs.
The others watched as she made for the stairs, but as she crossed the threshold into the stairway she vanished and reappeared behind them, looking bewildered.
"I'd heard the tower has a will of its own." Jaina tried not to laugh.
"Then it is truly accursed." Yrel grumbled, before leading the way towards the stables.
The stables appeared to be deserted at first, but it came to life as the ghosts of stablehands, horses, and apprentices formed from the shadows.
"Do we try and help them find peace Uther?" Arthas asked, as they passed the ghosts who were oblivious to their presence. "Their souls cannot be at peace like this."
"I'm not sure if the Light could overcome the magical energy that flows through here," Uther looked around. "Lothar once mentioned that this place is built upon a convergence of ley lines; combined with the corruption Sargeras likely left behind and the Guardian's own energy, I fear these people will haunt the tower forever."
"Light protect them." Sylvanas breathed, her eyes noticing one horse standing apart from all the others. "Someone else is here, look!"
At the centre of the stables stood a lone horse that was not spectral, and was garbed in armour and blinders as if it were ready to ride.
"That's an impressive stead," Arthas whistled, approaching the horse.
"Wait Arthas, don't!" Jaina urged, but it was too late.
The Prince touched the horse's reins, and the beast reared back. A figure burst from the shadows and ran towards the enraged horse.
"Well, well! Another group of thieves trying to steal my horse!" the man cheered as he leapt into the saddle.
Alleria was the only one of them who was ready for the ambush. The moment Arthas had touched the horse's reins, she had unslung her bow and had an arrow nocked; she waited until the man was seated in the saddle to release it. There was a soft woosh, and the arrow imbedded itself in the man's chest, just above the heart. The horse reared again, and the man fell from the saddle.
"I… have become… the hunted…" the man wheezed.
A wind picked up from nowhere, and all the ghosts disappeared again, followed by the horse and its rider.
"I get the feeling we're going to have a lot of encounters like this in here," Vereesa noted.
"Where to now?" Yrel asked, deferring to the natives on where they should go next.
"Back to the staircase it seems, I don't see another way out of here that looks safe." Jaina said, spotting a rotting staircase on the far side of the round chamber.
They returned to the entrance chamber, and once again the ghostly doorman appeared to greet them.
"I trust Attumen did not scare you, he is very protective of Midnight." The man chortled.
"Attumen?"
"He's the Master's Huntsman, the game he hunts feeds the Master and his guests."
"May we proceed up the stairs?" Alleria asked, her impatience and irritance still audible in her voice.
"Of course, I'm sure Moroes will welcome you warmly in the Grand Ballroom," the doorman gestured towards the stairs. "He is currently entertaining some local nobles, but the more, the merrier."
The doorman vanished with a bow, and both Yrel and Alleria were first to start climbing the grand staircase.
"This place cannot get any any weirder," Sylvanas breathed as they climbed the staircase.
As if to challenge her statement, two ethereal figures formed and began to climb the stairs with them.
"Care to borrow some blinders? Other students have found them quite helpful for ignoring those distracting visions." A tall slender man with a long black ponytail asked the other.
"Uh… No, thank you. If I may ask, what became of those other students?" the other man asked, and when he spoke Jaina and Uther recognised him.
"That's Khadgar," she breathed, pointing at the younger of the two spirits. "He looks so young."
"So… It seems our young spy has arrived at last." The echoing voice of Medivh said, before the two spirits of the past dissipated.
"When they fought each other, the corrupted Medivh aged Khadgar's body in an instant," Uther stated. "He may look old, but in truth he is younger than me."
"A cruel fate, to be young at heart but trapped in an ageing body." Yrel mused.
"And now he's fallen to the Legion, save your pity for the innocents who have died at his hands." Alleria snapped, as they reached the grand ballroom.
"Alleria!" Sylvanas grabbed her sister by the shoulder and stopped her, Vereesa was quick to stand at her sister's side. "Are you okay? You're being unusually rude."
"Go on ahead, we'll catch up." Vereesa said to the others, who didn't argue and moved into the banqueting hall.
Again, the hall came to life with the spectres of the past; servants and waiters bustled tables of guests with empty plates, as they toasted empty glasses to their health. Uther's attention was drawn to the raised platform at the centre of the far wall, where raised voices could be heard. Seven spectral nobles were arguing with a more corporeal figure in a tailored suit; to say the man was still human, however, would be a stretch.
"I must see the Master at once!" one of the nobles proclaimed.
"Where is the Master?" another questioned.
"The Master is away on important matters," the man said slowly in a low drawl. "He will return soon, do not worry."
Uther gestured for the others to hang back, while he cautiously approached.
"Hmm, unannounced visitors." The decrepid figure said, turning his head to inspect Uther with his monocled eye. "I don't believe the Master is expecting you."
"Moroes?" Uther asked cautiously, he'd heard about Medivh's faithful steward long before, and the gruesome fate that had befallen him, but as he approached slowly he had to admit, for a dead man he was still very dignified. "Do you recognise me?"
"Should I?" Moroes looked him up and down.
"I'm Uther of Lordaeron, Paladin of the Silver Hand." He gave a cautious bow, aware of the tricks Karazhan liked to play.
"I'm afraid I have not heard that name before," the steward dralled. "I take it you consider yourself important enough to approach unannounced."
"Times have changed, good steward," he smiled, seeing Jaina, Arthas, and Yrel fanning out around him. "I was sent here by Medivh, he believes that powerful forces wish to use the tower for their own ends."
"Why would the Master not attend to such matters himself?"
"Azeroth has been invaded again, he is needed to help slow the enemy down."
"Hmm." Moroes rubbed his chin, and Uther watched dried skin fall from his fingers. "The Master would never allow Azeroth to be threatened."
"I have to ask, are you aware of recent events?"
"I am, King Llane sends missives from Stormwind regularly."
Uther looked to Arthas and Jaina, unsure how to proceed.
"If he thinks Llane is still king, then we're still children to him and our order does not exist." Arthas whispered loudly.
"Moroes, King Llane died over twenty years ago, his son Varian rules the city now." He said slowly.
The nobles gasped and gave him horrorstruck looks, Moroes' face betrayed nothing.
"I wondered why the missives had stopped." The steward shrugged. "Where is the Master now?"
"I do not know where he is, when last we spoke we were in Quel'thalas."
"What proof do you have that twenty years have passed?" one of the noblemen demanded.
Uther looked to Arthas again, and tilted his head for the Prince to approach.
"When last you heard, how old was King Terenas' son?" he slowly asked.
"Young Prince Arthas has recently celebrated his fourth nameday," Moroes gave a warm smile, but it brought little warmth to his pale face.
"Allow me to introduce him to you now," Uther stepped back and allowed Arthas to approach.
The Prince stepped up and bowed to Moroes and the nobles, who all took their time to inspect him with their keen gazes.
"How do we know you're Terenas' firstborn son?" another of the nobles probed.
"My sister Calia is two years older than me, when I was young I helped a horse give birth to a young foal whom I named Invincible," Arthas listed, before giving a wry smile. "And I'm often told that I have my mother's eyes."
Moroes suddenly took several steps forward and stared deep into Arthas' eyes; Uther, Yrel, and Jaina readied themselves for a confrontation.
"I met Lianne once, a long time ago," Moroes said in a whisper, and Arthas' wrinkled expression told Uther the steward's undead breath was deeply unpleasant. "I vaguely remember her eyes being a different colour, but my memory is not what it was."
"If twenty years has passed, why aren't we aware of it?" the youngest of the noble ladies asked.
"May we be honest?"
"It would be wise." Moroes said, stepping back from Arthas without declaring his verdict.
"You all died twenty years ago, this tower was abandoned…"
"When matters became too numerous for Medivh to simply sit idle," Uther interrupted, not wanting to let slip that the Guardian had been killed. "Somehow the tower has kept you in a timeless state since then."
The nobles looked at each other with uncertainty, before dissolving into mist slowly, but Moroes did not vanish like the others, he remained standing.
"What business has the Master sent you here to rectify again?"
"He's asked us to secure the tower against potential intruders, he fears the wards he put in place have weakened in his absence." Arthas said quickly, and Uther saw Jaina mouthing to him from out of Moroes' eyesight. "May we proceed up the tower, good steward?"
"You may," Moroes said after a long pause. "I must admit there has been a deterioration in standards around here lately, if you can lend a hand to rectify those issues too I would be most grateful; there comes a point that one gets weary of tidying the same messes over and over. Good day."
Uther expected the steward to fade away like the horseman in the stables had, but instead Moroes brushed passed him and walked towards the kitchen, his arms folded behind his back.
"Was anyone else worried things were about to get violent while you were talking with him?" Jaina asked quietly, not daring to set foot on the raised platform in case Moroes returned.
"I expected him to lash out at any moment, whether with words or weapons I couldn't say," Arthas wiped the sweat from his brow.
"What happened to him? Why is he so pale?" Yrel asked as they returned to the grand ballroom.
"According to what I heard, when Sargeras took control of Medivh, he murdered everyone that was close to him, Moroes was the first friend the fallen Guardian slew in his madness, but not the last."
"So every ghost here…"
"Likely a victim of Sargeras seizing control of Medivh's mind," Uther answered. "The Guardian's power is nearly limitless, or so it was said, it would be child's play to snuff out all life within Karazhan in a heartbeat."
"Let's just keep going, I'm starting to feel uneasy lingering in here," Jaina shuddered.