Song: Live or Die - Apocalyptica feat. Joakim Brodén


Jaina woke to darkness. Something about it was uneven; darker toward the window than away. She sat up slowly. The fever had subsided but now her neck and jaw throbbed with cramping pain. Experience told her that trying to sleep it off would only make it worse and she sighed.

She sat quietly, not thinking, just being. There were things to worry about and problems to solve but they seemed far away right now. Right now she was… here. She existed. Her emotions were muted. Maybe I wore them out yesterday.

The clouds parted and soft starlight touched objects near her window. She turned her head and the uneven darkness abruptly made sense: she couldn't see anything but blackness with her right eye. She blinked several times to be sure. She waved a hand back and forth in front of her face.

"Fantastic."

Jaina made her way out of bed and went to wash her face. She leaned close to the mirror. There was nothing obviously different about her right eye. It still glowed like the left one.

She slipped out of her nightclothes and stood in front of the mirror. The symptoms that the public could see were only part of her condition. As the year turned to autumn and she turned to layered clothes, it became easier to hide the changes in her physique. Jaina had never been lean; she was busty, with sturdy Kul Tiran heritage and a fondness for pastries. Now her collar bone stood out from shoulder to shoulder, and she could see shadows between her ribs. Hollows began to creep under her cheekbones. She ran a finger down the scar on one cheek; they had become reassuring as the rest of her body slowly changed into someone she didn't recognize.

Jaina turned away and went through the process of washing and dressing. It was still night and for a while, she leaned on her windowsill and watched the wisps of cloud and the stars.

Eventually, she left the view and sat down at her desk. She looked at the envelopes she had addressed the previous night that had paralyzed her with emotion. Now she was eager to share her words. The longest letter would be for her mother. Jaina took a deep breath, took up her pen, and began to write.

She kept writing as the stars faded and the horizon warmed. Finally, twelve pages later, she folded the letter and pinched it as flat as possible to make sure it fit into the envelope.

Jaina took a moment to massage the cramps out of her writing hand and reached for another sheet of paper.

The letter to Anduin was as personal as she could make it while maintaining a respectful tone appropriate for the young King. It would likely be read by others once Anduin opened it. After some minutes of consideration, she added several heartfelt paragraphs. No. To hell with it! I want him to hear this more than I care what they think.

She set the pages aside and began the final letter.

Jaina had a lot of good memories with Tandred. They spilled out over the pages, from games they played as children, to learning to ride horseback and sail a little catamaran, to the lasting fondness that remained even as they took different paths into adult life.

There. Now they would all know the choice that lay before her.

She got to her feet, then paused.

I need to write one more. This one didn't need an envelope.

Jaina stood, stretched, and took stock of her current pain. Not too bad. Definitely a cane day though. The Citadel was mostly quiet and Jaina used the patrolling Scourge to plot a path that avoided other people. After navigating her first staircase without binocular vision, she gave up walking and teleported to the lab.

It was warm and all of the lanterns were lit. The furniture was straightened, scrolls organized in their cupboards, books lined up on the shelves. Judging by the unusual orderliness, Kel'Thuzad had been in the lab for hours, stress-tidying.

He sat behind the desk and stood up when she appeared.

"Is it morning already?"

"Not really."

She walked to the doors, closed and locked them, then turned to face him.

"Let's skip the part where I'm angry and you try to justify your actions. What have you done?"

He folded his hands behind his back. "Resurrected a willing soul. I meant to make an example for you of my best work- but it did not go as intended."

Jaina approached the desk. "What happened?"

"I had unexpected assistance." He raised his eyebrows. "And the result is something that you need to see."

"What kind of assistance?"

"Ysadéan."

"How?"

"She's the kaldorei version of a necromancer."

A muscle twitched in her cheek. "Somehow this doesn't surprise me." She moved around the desk and they both took a seat facing each other. "Who did you resurrect?"

"The young warlock. Zaphine."

Jaina rubbed the bridge of her nose. She felt the pressure of a headache threatening to manifest. "Oh dear. Kinndy told me she died during the siege. She's very upset about it."

"It wasn't an easy death."

"Why her?"

"Her soul was willing. She has unfinished business here."

"And what does she think of your choice to bring her back?"

He shifted in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. "Trolls have a different relationship with death and what lies beyond than humans do. And the way Ysadéan's magic worked with mine is unique. As is her... bedside manner, shall we say."

"What does Zaphine think of your choice to bring her back?"

"Her first instinct was to attack me. That's normal for someone who died in battle."

"Kel'Thuzad, you're avoiding the question."

"I don't have an answer for you. She's only a few hours old and it takes time to adjust. She's still breathing; her body isn't yet aware that it doesn't need to. She'll be preoccupied with the physical changes for a while."

"Is she a lich?"

"No. We resurrected her as I would a death knight. Her soul is bound to her body again."

"And her will? Is her will wholly her own?"

"Yes."

"All right." Jaina turned her gaze to her lap and her white-knuckled fists. Her right eye twitched and she blinked hard several times to soothe the muscles. "I have a personal question for you."

"Ask it."

"What would you die for? Truly die, forever. Willingly."

Kel'Thuzad stared past her. "Nothing. There is nothing I would give my life for." He turned to her but she didn't look up. "What would you die for willingly?"

She made a brief smile. "Kinndy. Anduin." She made an intentional effort to unclench her fists. "Love cancels out my sense of self-preservation."

"As far as I know, that's normal."

"As far as I know." She fell silent.

"Shall we visit Zaphine? Ysadéan is keeping her company for now."

"No. We're not done here. It goes without saying that I don't approve of what you did but what's done is done." She laced her fingers together in her lap. "I want to tell you something and I need you to listen."

"I'm listening."

"The next time there's a grand crisis on Azeroth, I'll do what I can to help. But saving the world is only useful if there's a world worth sav- Stop making that face. This is going somewhere you'll like." Jaina re-settled herself. "That world worth saving exists through the day-to-day actions of the people living here. Personal actions. Choices. Little crises. Little victories."

"Small pleasures."

"Exactly. Small pleasures. I care about Kinndy and her education. I care about you and-" She shook her head. "-I care about your freedom to make better choices. I care about Soffriel and his education. I care about a lot of people in the Citadel and some people beyond. That's all I can do- just do right by these people." She paused. Adrenaline surged through her and her hands began to shake. "Which means I- I need to make a choice- for myself. Die because I fear undeath, live undead because I fear dying, or-" She held up a finger. "-Or. You and Ysadéan take me to the edge of undeath so I can see everything in the Helm and perhaps find a third way."

He folded his arms across his chest. "You've given up on the idea of a successor?"

"Not entirely. I do believe that the spells for transferring and attaching the Lich King's power exist somewhere in the Helm and I would consider a successor if there was someone suitable and willing. But now I think it's too late to search for one. I think our best option is to learn if there are other options."

"Such as?"

"Separating the power from me. Putting it into something inanimate? Destroying the power, finding a way to synchronize it with a living body, I don't know."

Kel'Thuzad furrowed his brow. "Jaina, the edge you want to reach won't just affect your body. You'll start to lose your memory. You might forget how to speak. It's going to affect your mind. Even if Ysadéan can keep your mind mostly intact, it will be very difficult to re-assemble everything if you choose resurrection too late. I cannot guarantee that you will… still be you afterwards."

Jaina's heart pounded in her throat. "I woke up blind in my right eye this morning," she blurted.

For a split second his expression was one of raw fear. "Then it may already be inside your brain. If you're going to do this, do it soon."

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears and Jaina concentrated on her breathing.

He continued. "There is something else to consider." She focused on Kel'Thuzad's face, struggling to calm herself. "If you choose resurrection, you will be able to study the Helm, without harm, for as long as you live. If there are ways to pass on the Lich King's power or destroy it, you will have the opportunity to find them."

"I thought of that too," she whispered. "Oh, Light." She held onto the seat of her chair and tried to stop her trembling.

"Are you-?"

"Just dizzy." Her vision swam. Suddenly there was a sharp pain behind her right eye and her vision returned. The threat of a headache vanished and she recoiled with a gasp. Kel'Thuzad reached out for her and she grabbed his wrist to stabilize herself. "Okay. Okay. It's fine. I can see again."

She took a few breaths to collect herself.

"Will you do this for me? Push me as far as you deem safe?"

"And then what? Once you reach the edge-?"

"I'll make my choice before then." She let go of him and took the final letter out of her pocket. "Here. The first page is all of the rites for a Kul Tiran funeral. The second page is all of the things I can think of that I want done for- to be given- to have after- if I choose resurrection."

He accepted the letter wordlessly.

"Now I want to meet Zaphine."

They walked in silence through the waking Citadel to Kel'Thuzad's private room. Jaina had been inside it a handful of times, mostly to frown at his choice of furniture- all of it looked too functional and caused her suspicion about its purpose. I guess I was right to be suspicious. The room was shrouded behind a thick weave of shields. As soon as Kel'Thuzad deactivated them, magic prickled her skin.

The room was brightly lit. Zaphine and Ysadéan were seated side by side on a metal table, Ysadéan's arm around Zaphine's shoulders. They looked up when Jaina and Kel'Thuzad entered.

"Ah! Lady King." Ysadéan slid off the table and bowed deeply. "Welcome back."

Zaphine stared at her with glowing yellow eyes. It wasn't just her eyes; parts of Zaphine blazed with magic. Half her face was a mask of spellwork- radiant bone beneath delicate weaves- and her right arm was composed entirely of layered energy that seemed almost alive.

Jaina recognized Kel'Thuzad's work. He wasn't lying about this being his best. Some of it surpassed what he put together for his own body. But parts of it were laced with vibrant, unfamiliar magic- literally laced in some places where warm strands knit together sections of Zaphine's own flesh and Kel'Thuzad's magic.

None of them spoke for a moment.

"I would like a moment alone with Zaphine."

Kel'Thuzad and Ysadéan left without words.

The young troll raised her chin, almost a challenge. One of her tusks glowed too.

Jaina took the only chair and dragged it over to sit in front of Zaphine.

"How do you feel?"

Zaphine's expression settled. She rubbed her left hand down her right arm. "Strange, Lady King." The glow permeated her skin and followed her touch before it faded. "I saw the kingdom beyond."

"Beyond?"

"What humans call- the Shadowlands?" She picked up a steaming mug on the table beside her but only held it cupped in her hands. "I thought- eh! I can see my mother again! But I couldn't be leavin' my father like that. They- Kel'Thuzad and Ysadéan- knew I wanna come back. Ysadéan lit the way for me an' Kel'Thuzad put me back together."

"Did you… did you actually see your mother?"

Zaphine nodded. "Time… it be runnin' diff'rent in the Shadowlands. She gave me a kiss for me an' then another for my father. Then I blink an' Ysadéan be standin' there wi' a candle and holdin' out her hand for me. So I went wi' her." She took a long drink from the mug. It smelled strongly of deadnettle, which wasn't something a living person would find pleasant in such a concentrated form. "I thought it would be worse- the comin' back."

"Whatever Ysadéan did certainly isn't any sort of necromancy I'm familiar with."

Zaphine held out her right hand, fingers splayed. Jaina was momentarily preoccupied by the fact Zaphine had a troll's hand- three digits- with the tapering grace and talons of a night elf.

"It feel nothing like druid magic." She lowered her hand. "They say the undead hate the living. I don't feel that."

"Not all of them. It depends on how they were resurrected, what spells were involved, or what the necromancer wants. It's easy to make a ferocious army when the soldiers are driven by mindless hate of the enemy." Her diaphragm spasmed and she paused to catch her breath. "The Ebon Blade death knights were raised with spellwork that made them enjoy inflicting pain on the living. Since they freed themselves from the Lich King, many of them have found ways of managing it." Like Martin, who vented his destructive urges by mining saronite with a pickaxe- sometimes for days- and then spent calm hours designing structures to build from the fruits of his labour. Kagra, on the other hand, looks for every 'justifiable' excuse to stab, bite, and kick people.

"What about your memory? Is it… intact?"

"That's the first thing they asked me. Do you remember- this thing, or that. Where were you born? Who is the King of the Alliance? And then questions about my training. Kel'Thuzad knows more than me about bein' a warlock. They ask me- where did you die?"

Jaina winced, but Zaphine smiled broadly, tusks and fangs on full display.

"I gave my life for the freedom of my people. Fear and pain be fleeting. Honour lives beyond death."

"Very true." Jaina looked up. "Will you stay here, at the Citadel? I know you wanted to see your father."

Zaphine's smile faltered. "I dunno what he would think of me."

"This wasn't done by your will-"

"No, Lady King. It was done by my will. I could take Ysadéan's hand and walk wi' her, or stay wi' my mother. I chose to come back. My mother is patient. She will wait for us."

There was suddenly a lump in Jaina's throat and she swallowed hard. "I think if your mother understood, then your father probably will too. It sounds like your parents loved each other very much."

"Ha! Very much. Like fire love a dry bush." She looked up. "I'll stay here, for now. It's a good place to be strange."

"I'll arrange a room for you."

"Thank you, Lady King." She took another sip of the deadnettle tea and wrinkled her nose. "Ysadéan says this is good for me but it be tastin' like the bottom of a tauren's hoof."

"You can taste it?"

"Yeah. An' wishin' I didn't."

Jaina stared down at her pale hands on her lap and thought of the list of desires she had given Kel'Thuzad in case she chose resurrection.

"At least it can't kill you," she said before she could stop herself.

Zaphine stared at her for a moment, then burst into laughter. "At least there's that!"

Jaina stood up. "I'll see about preparing that room for you."

"Thank you again, Lady King."

Outside the room, she passed Kel'Thuzad and Ysadéan without a word.


Kinndy's mother sent her back to the Citadel with a magically conjured pie. Conjuring food was the one area of magic that Kinndy was absolutely dismal at; it was the only area of magic where her mother excelled. She joked how together they made one hell of a mage, then her father would jump in to add how his talent for fire was magnified through Kinndy, and how proud they were, and then it ended in hugging.

Staying in Dalaran for a few days was really nice. Pandaria was amazing, but being home afterward felt like she let out a breath she had been holding since the day of the siege. The world felt right again.

The pie kept its heat as she carried it through the Citadel. Immediately, Kinndy decided she would share it with Jaina because Jaina looked like she could use a slice of pie.

Kinndy skipped down the stairs to the sub-basement and halted outside the laboratory door, gave the lab a good scan from around the doorframe, and upon determining it was lich-free, entered.

"What have you there?"

Kinndy yelped and only just managed to not drop the pie.

Kel'Thuzad sat in the far corner of the room, his feet up on the jar of preserved rats, with a cat in his lap, reading a book.

"Do you just live in here?"

"Live?" he said with the edge of a smile.

"I mean- you know what I mean!"

"I do know what you mean, and no, I do not reside in this room. I do, however, conduct quite a bit of work here. Why are you here?"

"I'm waiting for Jaina."

"With…" he craned his neck to see what she was holding. Kinndy wrapped her arms protectively around the pie. "Some kind of pastry?"

"It's a pie," Kinndy said grudgingly. "It's from my mom."

He closed his book. "Is it now."

Kinndy didn't like where this appeared to be going. "It's for Jaina."

"Jaina's not going to eat an entire pie."

"You don't need to eat!"

"But I like to."

Kinndy realized that despite his apparent interest, Kel'Thuzad was still sitting and the ridiculous thought popped into her head that he didn't want to disturb the cat on his lap. She squinted.

"That cat is alive!" Kinndy gasped. "What're you- You better not hurt it!"

Kel'Thuzad rubbed the cat's head between the ears. "I would never," he said with distinct fondness in his voice. Kinndy blinked.

"Uh…"

He picked up the cat and gently set it on the floor. Kinndy watched him dust cat hair off his robes. If he wasn't who I know he is- if Jaina had told me he was a stranger- I think I would like him. Even though he's creepy. And undead. He's smart. And he has a cat.

"...is everything about you true?"

"How should I know?" He raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you read my biography?"

Kinndy continued to clutch the pie. "Yeah, but, I mean- it was written by people who hate you."

"You should be smart enough to read between the lines." He turned his back on her and began shuffling through papers on the desk. Kinndy kept one eye on him while she looked for a good place to put the pie.

"Does Jaina know about everything you've done?"

He paused. "Yes."

"Oh."

Kinndy set the pie on a side table just as the cat padded across the room to her. She knelt down and it immediately rubbed itself against her offered hand. "Awww! Look how cute you are! Look at your cute little nose! What's her name?"

"Mr. Bigglesworth."

"Isn't it a girl?"

"I didn't name her."

The cat stretched and walked away. Kinndy stood up. "I'll give you some pie if you answer some questions about yourself."

He snorted. "Do you really think I can be bought with pie?"

"I dunno. It's strawberry."

"Hmm."

"There's cinnamon in the crust. Wait, no. You can't taste anything. It's... nice and flakey."

"Ooh. Well, then. You win."

Kinndy watched him eat. She would wait for Jaina to arrive; it was only polite. "Okay. First question. Have you ever been married?"

"No."

"Do you have any kids?"

"No."

"What's your favourite colour?"

"Purple."

"Where were you born?"

"I have no idea."

"For real?"

"You can check with Jaina if you don't believe me."

"Well, where did you grow up?"

He paused and licked his fork. "Winterspring."

"That's like… halfway across the world from Dalaran."

"More or less."

"Do you have any siblings?"

"I did."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"My sister is still alive."

"What's her name?"

"That's not for me to say."

"Is she a mage too?"

"No."

Kinndy jiggled her knee under the table. As long as she talked to Kel'Thuzad, it was less intimidating being alone with him. Except the more she talked to him, the more he seemed like a person rather than some vague nightmare. Except he was a nightmare. A nightmare sitting across from her, eating her mother's pie.

"How many times have you died?"

"Somewhere between fifteen and twenty I think. I stopped counting."

"Does it hurt?"

"Of course it does."

"Did you really submit a research paper about the foundations of necromancy to the Kirin Tor Journal of Arcane Review under a fake name?"

"Three times, actually. Three different papers. Three different names. They only caught me once."

"That's academic dishonesty!"

He snapped his fingers. "Aha! So that's the reason I was banished from Dalaran!"

"Very funny." Kinndy scowled at him. "How could you live in a city for years and then help destroy it? I mean, didn't you have friends there? Did you hate everyone? Or not care at all?"

"That's too complex for pie."

"But…" Kinndy hesitated, watching his expression. "Did you have friends?"

"Friends?" His gaze focused somewhere beyond her. "Yes. Friends. I had friends. I had a partner, a home, a cat, a career. Everything that one could ever want." The corner of his mouth twitched upward. "What do you think happened to it all?"

"...necromancy?"

He chuckled. "Everyone seems to believe I found the seeds of that obsession in Dalaran. Isn't that interesting? Whyever would the Kirin Tor have any information of that nature? No. Politics happened. I bought the lies the Kirin Tor told me and was happy to ignore the truths until they landed in my lap." He glanced at her and then away. "You have a girlfriend in Dalaran, yes? Petra Something-or-other?"

"Yeah! Petra Windspinner. Her family designs and builds flying machines. I met her-"

He waved his hand. "Lovely. And friends? No doubt many friends."

"Yes…"

"And your parents. You're an only child. You must be everything to them."

"Um, yeah. They're very proud of me. Why-?"

The air around them began to cool.

"You've grown up surrounded by the ideals of the Kirin Tor. To learn and catalogue, to act benevolently, and build a place for magical scholars of all kinds. How do you think I got from Winterspring to Dalaran?"

"B-boat?"

"Eventually. But it cost me. How do you think I paid?"

"Probably not gold?"

"Blood. Not mine, of course. Trading lives for gold is easy work. And there's always someone willing to pay." He examined his nails and frowned. "Hmph. Anyway, the Kirin Tor offered me a place to study and put all the blood in my past. So I did. I studied, made friends, courted, and didn't kill anyone for years." He smiled without warmth. "But they knew I was capable of killing. When the Kirin Tor found no other way to solve a problem except violence, they came to me."

"'They' as in… the Council?"

"The Kirin Tor is more than the Council. Common mages, scholars, teachers, historians… Anyone with enough connections knew about my past. But yes. Two of the Council- I won't tarnish your esteem with their names. Now, I have no issue with a stern talking-to or murder, but the Kirin Tor had promised me a life where that was behind me and I believed them. I don't like being lied to. I refused them. They tried to bribe me but as I said, I had everything one could ever want." He looked up. "So they started taking things away. The Kirin Tor did that. They took away my tenure. They threatened my reputation. They raised the rent on my partner's shop until it was no longer profitable. None of it came directly from the Council of course, but it didn't need to. They looked the other way which was the same as approval. I saw them do it to others."

Kinndy shook her head. "But- I mean, that's so mean! But why? Because they wanted you to kill somebody?"

"Kill, threaten, torture. All the things the Kirin Tor says they don't do- but they'll pay someone else to do it."

"Who- who did they want you to kill?"

"Trespassers. Prisoners. The inconvenient. The unstable. Those unfit for their narrative."

Kinndy tucked her hands into her sweater sleeves.

"I refused until my cat went missing."

"Oh, no…"

"I found out who was responsible for that and they paid. But I still refused because, well, at that point if I gave in, it would mean the things they took from me were worthless after all."

"Why wouldn't they just stop asking? If you still turned them down after all of that…?"

"I didn't figure that out until it was too late. You see, I did find the seeds of necromancy in the Dalaran Library's Special Collection. All I had left was my studies at that point. And my position on the Council. I was always confused why they kept me on the Council while they took everything else… You can guess the rest."

"Sorry. I... I don't get it."

"They found me out and expelled me. All of the murder and torture I was asked to perfrom was, of course, performed by someone else. There's always someone willing to work. But when they banished me, they laid all of that work at my feet- very convenient." He clapped his hands once and the warmth returned to the room. "So when Arthas attacked Dalaran I was only too happy to give them all the violence they wanted."

Kinndy propped her chin on her fists. "I don't believe all of what you said but I don't believe all of what's in the biography either." She raised her eyebrows. "It doesn't say anything about you having a partner."

"Good."

"Sooo… who-"

"Nope."

She pushed the pie toward him. "You can have-"

"Nope."

"Wait! You said you weren't married! So 'partner' is like a casting partner?"

"No. We never married." He stood abruptly and Kinndy was prepared to apologize- or pester him further, depending on how surly he looked- but he turned and she followed his gaze.

Jaina entered the lab. She was flanked by Soffriel on her left and on her right…

"Zaphine?"

The world suddenly went fuzzy and Kinndy collapsed.


Jaina lunged across the room and caught Kinndy before she hit the floor. Even her slight weight was too much for Jaina and she sat down hard with her apprentice on her lap. Pain shot up her spine. Kinndy stirred a second later.

"What happened?"

"Ya fainted." Zaphine leaned over them. "I never had someone swoon for me before." She fanned herself dramatically and cackled.

"But I- I saw- you- you-"

Soffriel helped Jaina to her feet but even with her cane, she felt dangerously unsteady and kept a firm hold on his arm.

Zaphine held out her right hand to Kinndy. "They brought me back."

Kinndy took her hand. Her eyes went wide and her attention shifted to Kel'Thuzad. "Oh my god. Are you- are you like a death knight now?"

"Naw. I just be Zaphine."

Jaina regained her balance and let go of Soffriel's arm. While Kinndy and Zaphine spoke, she made her way to the workbench along the wall and found a spare copper cauldron.

Kel'Thuzad's presence brushed hers. She hesitated, then replied.

What.

I'll do it for you.

She closed her eyes and struggled to swallow around the lump in her throat. Thank you.

"This should be good enough for now." She offered the cauldron to Zaphine who accepted it with a smile.

"Thank you, Lady King." She turned to Kinndy and bumped her hip against her shoulder. "Still want to study together?"

"Um, yeah! Yeah, that'd be great!" She turned to Soffriel. "You're invited too, of course."

Jaina watched the three of them interact. Kinndy is such a light in the darkness. The world needs all the light it can get. The lump in her throat wouldn't go away. All the hope it can get.

She looked up and found Kel'Thuzad's gaze on her. She hadn't entirely pushed him out of her mind and wasn't sure if he sensed her thoughts, but he could certainly sense her emotions.

Take me to the edge. And then…

And then…?

And then, if there's no other way, I want to live.