Chapter 3

The male elf before Sylvanas was just as dead as she was, but his eyes glowed the familiar cerulean blue of a death knight. Six years ago, Koltira had been one of her Farstriders and she had seen him die at the Elfgate. The deep seated guilt she still felt for her rangers' deaths, but never admitted to having, was the only reason he had made it to stand before her. That, and the fantastic tale he had purported to have of the Scourge in the east having regained their free will.

He had just finished telling her about how the Knights of the Ebon Blade had cleared the necropolis called Acherus, and was waiting for her response. She had opted to stand through his story, wanting the physical advantage of being able to look down on him. She took her time to absorb his words.

"So this 'highlord' of yours controls Acherus, and plans to do what with it, exactly?"

"Highlord Mograine plans to train any knights who wish to remain with him to eventually assault Icecrown Citadel to kill the Lich King," he replied bluntly.

"And this citadel is where the Lich King is now?"

Koltira smiled slowly. "Who knows where he is right now, my Lady? But, that is where the Frozen Throne is, and that is where his power lies. He will always return there, and that is where we must defeat him to end his reign forever."

"You mentioned someone else earlier who commanded your highlord and the rest of the Scourge forces in the area. Was she slain by your knights in the taking of Acherus?" Sylvanas had already known of the female creature that ruled the Scourge in the plaguelands, but little else had been known about her. She had been sighted rarely, and always too deep into Scourge territory for a good look. If she hadn't had large wings she would have blended in entirely, so Sylvanas was told.

The death knight hesitated, which immediately put Sylvanas on alert. He had been very forthcoming so far.

"There was no need for her to meet her true death, Lady Sylvanas. She had also regained her free will and met us as we teleported in. She did not stay long."

The Banshee Queen was curious. "You let her go? Why?"

Koltira shrugged. "Like us, she had been under the Lich King's control. When she didn't kill us the first moment she could, the Highlord decided to allow her to leave peacefully."

Sylvanas let her ire show. "I assume you have no idea where she is then?" She did not like the sound of a powerful former Scourge roaming her lands.

Koltira's blue eyes narrowed as he looked at Sylvanas. "You don't know, do you?"

Sylvanas, never one to take being at a disadvantage lightly, snapped her reply. "I don't know what? I don't play games, death knight."

His answer was slow, and measured. "If I were to hazard a guess, I would say she is making her way here, if she hasn't already arrived." Sylvanas gave him a withering glare, and he understood that if she had to prompt him again she would not be kind about it. "Our commander, Lady Sylvanas, was Alyna Darkfury, formerly your —"

He didn't get to finish his sentence, nor did he see Sylvanas coming. She had moved too fast for him to dodge, and her strike had been vicious. He now looked up at her from the floor, his jaw at an odd angle and features staring up at her with dumb shock.

"You didn't think to mention this at the start?!" she screamed at him.

He tried to speak through his broken jaw, "Thought … you … knew!"

She wanted to hit him again, but managed to restrain herself. She growled at him before snapping at a nearby royal dreadguard to fetch a healer. She paced the throne room as they waited for the priest, who then healed the death knight's jaw with a shadow-based spell. Despite being dead, he still required the aid in healing. Unlike the living, the undead were unable to heal naturally anymore. While not necessarily in pain, or normally at risk of true death, if they wished to regain normal mobility they required healing magic. There were a few injuries that could kill an undead eventually if not healed, but these were few.

When the priest left, Sylvanas stepped down off the dais and walked slowly towards Koltira, halting a few paces away. She could see his nerves.

Her voice was low and threatening as she glared at him, "Tell. Me. Everything."

He knew she was referring to Alyna. "There is not much I can tell you, Dark Lady." He flinched as she took a menacing step closer. "The Lich King either kept her close, or sent her to distant areas of Icecrown." He shook his head in a manner that appeared sad. "I don't know what she was told to do; that was always beyond my rank. All I know are rumours, my Lady, and we both know what those can be like."

Sylvanas' eyes narrowed at the vague reference to the rumours she and Alyna had to cope with about their relationship while they were alive. Some had indeed got out of control.

"Try me."

He looked around, conscious of the guards that surrounded him. "The Lich King used her as an example of what could happen if we disobeyed." He obviously shuddered at what that had entailed, and Sylvanas felt a cold anger grow inside her. "But when she did his bidding, she was brutal, ruthless, and efficient. He would then hold her as an example of what we should aspire to be. She was raised above almost all other Scourge, but when she failed him she was always punished in ways most of us cannot imagine and would do everything to avoid."

Sylvanas pressed her teeth together in an effort to not lash out at the messenger, again. It had nothing to do with caring about his health, and everything to do with him being unable to be useful to her if she expedited his true death.

Her silence had made him edgy. "The best person to tell you about what happened to Alyna, my Lady, is Alyna herself."

She knew he was right. She also needed time to think. She did not love Alyna, not being capable of that particular emotion anymore, but her intense reaction to knowing Alyna could be so close had unsettled her. Her gut was telling her to send out her dark rangers to look for Alyna, but she wanted to consider how to react once she was found. Sylvanas knew how much she had changed in six years, and could only imagine how Alyna's ordeal had changed her. Would Alyna want contact with Sylvanas? Would she be angry or bitter? Would she want revenge? Sylvanas had to consider all possible outcomes before initiating contact.

She finally gave Koltira a brief nod before she stepped back onto the dais to stand before her throne.

"What are your plans now, Koltira?" Her voice was deceptively calm.

He pulled himself up. "I wish to pledge myself to my people again, and therefore the Horde."

Sylvanas gestured to a guard. "I will have you escorted to the translocation orb. It will take you to Silvermoon."

"With respect, my Lady; I consider the Forsaken to be my people now."

Sylvanas was rarely speechless. After a few moments, she managed, "Why?"

"I have no living blood relatives left, and my king is dead. You were my ranger general, and your dark rangers were as family to me within the Farstriders. Like the Forsaken, I am dead. There is no comfort for me amongst the living, but there can perhaps be satisfaction here." He formally knelt before her. "My sword and abilities are yours, if you wish it, Lady Sylvanas."

She took in his form with her red eyes, and saw no deception. They both knew she would keep a close eye on him. His willingness to submit to her rule despite knowing that he would be watched was enough for her to accept his offer, for now.

"I accept." She nodded at the guard who had stepped forward for the original escort mission. "You will be taken to an area where you can choose lodgings. You don't have to, of course, but most have asked for some kind of personal space. I shall have to think on how to use you, but you will hear from me soon." Her eyes narrowed at him. "Until then, keep to yourself. Not all Forsaken will readily welcome you."

He rose to his feet, and bowed deeply. "Thank you, my Lady." He appeared to want to say something else so she nodded her permission, and he continued. "There are other death knights who wish to join the Horde, and some may be interested in pledging to you directly. What would you have me tell them?"

She took a moment to consider the situation. "I will hear their pledges, but I make no promises. It will be up to them to impress upon me their desire to follow the Forsaken way."

"I shall convey your words, Dark Lady."

She dismissed him, and she was left alone with her thoughts as she gestured for the guards to leave her alone. She left the throne room for her office, and initially found herself unable to decide what to do. The possibility of seeing Alyna again had thrown her and she wanted to know why. Just how dangerous was Alyna? She had been renamed 'Darkfury' and Sylvanas wondered if that was a warning to remain clear of her former lover.

Or would the Banshee Queen have to have the rogue former Scourge hunted and put down for their own safety? Could Sylvanas do that? She knew if it was anyone else she could without a second thought. Alyna was making her pause, and that was dangerous. Perhaps that was what unsettled her.

She sat at her desk and removed her gauntlets. On her left hand, she still wore the wedding ring that had never seen a wedding. Normally, she didn't feel anything when she looked at it. No rush of love, or hope, and the fewer memories she relived of her former life, the better. This time, she felt something unexpected … loneliness. She was a queen with no equal. She was utterly alone in everything she did, and had been since her death. Alyna could not be her equal, but perhaps she was far enough above the rest that she could be trusted to confide in, eventually.

Sylvanas brushed her thoughts away, disgusted at her weakness. How could she be wanting a friend after all this time? It was ridiculous. She was the Banshee Queen, not an insecure adolescent. She also had work to do.

She shuffled through the parchment on her desk and pulled a few out that required her attention. She would need to send orders out to her troops to keep an eye out for free-willed former Scourge, and with the Scourge army decimated at Light's Hope she could stand down the state of emergency her people were currently maintaining.

She tried to focus on the mundane but necessary work, but after breaking a second nib for her quill she threw the rebellious implement down onto the desk. She grabbed her gauntlets and stood suddenly, leaving the office. She passed through the throne room and up the main entryway to the royal quarter. Guards lined the corridor and they all snapped to attention as she passed. She did not acknowledge them.

Before she left the royal quarter she paused. Sylvanas drew the shadows in around her, the dark ranger ability coming as naturally to her as breathing had in life. Anyone watching would have seen her disappear. She moved swiftly through Undercity towards the war quarter where the dark ranger barracks were located. She could have summoned them to her office, but that would take time and her impatience had got the better of her.

All of her dark rangers were banshees, like herself, who had reclaimed their bodies. Most were former quel'dorei Farstriders who had served under her command when they had still breathed. As banshees, they were all female. Arthas had used the male elves as physical combat troops, so only women had shared Sylvanas' fate as far as she knew. Following Sylvanas' example and teachings, they had twisted their natural talents from those of the wild to that of shadow. She trusted them more than most – which wasn't much more as she did not trust anyone as a rule – and she now required their skills in tracking, discretion, and stealth for their next mission: to find Alyna.

There was another reason she preferred their use; Alyna had been one of them in life. Unlike the formerly human Forsaken, they knew who to look for. She figured if someone she had known found her she would perhaps listen first instead of attack.

As soon as Sylvanas entered the barracks, she dropped her stealth, materialising before a pair of surprised rangers. Without prompting, they immediately went in search of their captain, who commanded the company based in the city. It was currently one of three companies, though Sylvanas was interested in expanding once she figured out how to recruit more female undead elves.

"Lady Sylvanas," came a sharp female voice, "how may we serve?"

Sylvanas turned to regard Ranger Captain Talnia who had appeared through a side door. Talnia smiled coyly, her own red eyes meeting Sylvanas' evenly.

The Dark Lady did not return the smile. "I want you to send search teams out through the Tirisfal Glades and into the western plaguelands."

Talnia nodded, the order not being entirely unusual. "Who or what are we looking for?"

"Alyna."

The single word wiped the smile off of Talnia's face and Sylvanas could not help but enjoy the reaction. Not giving her captain any chance to ask pointless questions, she gave Talnia detailed orders and sent the obviously irked banshee on her way.

Sylvanas was left alone with her nerves.

Alyna stalked silently through the trees, using an altered form of shadow magic to dampen any quiet sound she may accidentally make. She had found some supple dark leather armour on a fresh corpse that was roughly her size back on Acherus, and was quite pleased with the fit. After equipping herself with a bow and quiver, she had left the floating necropolis to Mograine and his death knights. She had her magic, but the bow reassured her somehow. It felt more natural to her. Anyone she ran into would also assume she was a hunter.

She rolled her shoulders slowly, and felt a crusted substance that covered her upper back crack and crumble with the movement. She silently berated herself. It had been two weeks since she had left Acherus, and therefore two weeks since Mograine had hacked off her wings at her request. Thick black ichor had wept from the two long stubs just inside her shoulder blades, her undead equivalent of blood. She should have immediately sought a healer to seal the wounds, but had been too eager to leave. Though the ichor would normally harden to cap the flow, the wounds were constantly reopening, and would continue to do so until she found someone to heal them. Ordinarily, she could heal most wounds she sustained by herself, but not one as catastrophic as what essentially concerned missing limbs. She was not in pain, exactly, but she felt a constant dull ache.

As she approached a gap in the trees of the wooded area she was crossing, she tugged her hood down as far as she could, her elven ears poking through two slits she had made in the sides. She could not hide her race, but she had tried to hide her undead nature. The colourful mask she had worn on Acherus had also been replaced by a plain black one, predominantly to hide her elongated eyeteeth. Neither measure would fool anyone if they got too close, but from a distance it had worked perfectly.

She had managed to travel from Acherus in the far east all the way through the plaguelands into the Tirisfal Glades, subconsciously following a similar path to that she had taken with the Alliance army two decades ago. There had been plenty of undead along the way, and she had left behind smouldering piles of ash as she encountered each group. Destroying them had brought her a simple solace. She had also been attacked by a Scarlet Crusade patrol. She had thought them all gone, but it would appear there were still pockets of them left. She had not wanted to kill humans, but they had left her little choice. She felt no remorse for it; she just felt it a waste. All would be needed to fight Arthas, and now there were five fewer to fight him.

She had no real goal in mind other than to figure out a way to get back at Arthas, but she had felt drawn westwards into the Tirisfal Glades. A small voice at the back of her mind quietly chuckled and she quashed it. She knew what it wanted to suggest to her, and she didn't want to hear it.

Alyna paused just inside the treeline as she could see a small group of humans huddled together around the light of a campfire. They had made camp in a clearing. Her vision blurred slightly as a powerful urge threatened to overwhelm her control. She was starving, again, having not fed since she left Acherus. For reasons even she did not understand, she had resisted feeding on the scarlet patrol that had attacked her, and now she was feeling the repercussions. Maintaining her dampening field had taken its toll on her magically, and she was exhausted.

It was time to feed.

She looked at the humans impassively. They appeared to be herders, though she could not immediately see where their animals were. There were three men, and two women, all simply dressed. Alyna loaded her bow, and fired at the largest male, piercing him neatly through his eye. As the others stared at his falling body, she placed her next arrow through the throat of another male. The other three were starting to move now in an attempt to find cover, but they were too late. Alyna focused on making sure they could not run by firing arrows into their legs – she would need these three alive.

As she strolled out of the trees, she gave the humans some credit. Despite being unable to run, they were trying to pull themselves away from her. One tried brandishing a knife at her, and she disarmed that particular female easily. She approached each of them in turn and knocked them unconscious with a swing of her bow. She knew her feeding process was painful, and saw no reason to make them suffer through it. Besides, she hated the struggling as it slowed her down.

She knelt beside the last living male and tugged down her mask, exposing her eyeteeth. She cradled him easily and buried her fangs into the side of his neck, piercing the carotid artery. At first, his beating heart did her work for her, spilling his life into her mouth. As his body and heart weakened, she began to suck. She placed a hand on his chest and a dark glow emanated from her palm. It pulsed energy into his body, keeping his heart beating longer than it should have so she could get as much out of him as possible.

A different, more primal hunger now threatened to take over her actions as she drained him. She drew her energy through the lifeblood of others, but the most potent and powerful source of power she had access to was via consuming souls. It was an ability that made the others of her artificial race formidable as they could tear souls right out of people. She felt the desire to do just that, but the thought also sickened her – eating souls, and depriving their owners of an afterlife, made her too much like the Lich King she had been forced to serve.

She pulled her hand away from the man's chest, and felt him die instantly in her arms. She placed him almost tenderly onto the ground and closed her eyes, trying to control her urges. She was still hungry, but would not move to feed on the women until she knew she would leave their souls alone. It took her a few minutes to calm herself, but she was proud of her restraint. She was free now; she could be her own woman.

Her own very dead woman.

She felt her anger grow, and it helped her keep the urges at bay as she fed on the women, doing so as quickly as she was able. When she was done, she laid all the bodies around the campfire. She removed the arrows from their bodies so as to not leave any evidence, and then set them alight using a nearby stick and the campfire. She was under no illusion that anyone would believe this was an accident, but she couldn't afford for the local population to start a vampire hunt for her.

She turned to continue west but stopped as a cloaked figure stepped out from the trees before her. Instinctively, she wanted to cast a shadowflame ball but restrained herself when she saw slender elven ears poking through the newcomer's hood. She realised the female figure had wanted Alyna to see her, and she approached slowly, her own bow slung across her back.

Alyna recognised the deadly grace of a fellow ranger. When she figured the woman had got close enough, Alyna held up her hand. Obediently, the ranger stopped. Alyna could just about make out a smile appearing slowly on what she knew to be dead skin.

"Greetings, sister," came a familiar voice now tinged with the grating undertone of death.

Alyna tilted her head, trying to place the voice. "Cyndia?" she asked cautiously.

A low chuckle came from the ranger. "Indeed. It has been a long time." Alyna had never been particularly close to Cyndia Hawkspear, but the woman's father had been a good friend, and her senior lieutenant. She had served in a different company, so they had only really seen each other when she had visited her father. She now looked at the bodies Alyna had set on fire. "Impressive."

Alyna realised Cyndia had watched her feed, and she inexplicably felt a little exposed for knowing. She had fed publically many times, but always amongst the Scourge. It was normal for them to witness atrocities, so for someone else to witness her hunger felt odd.

She pushed aside her brief insecurity. A ranger would never reveal themselves unless they had a reason. Alyna decided to hazard a guess as to why Cyndia had made contact.

"She sent you."

Cyndia's red eyes flashed, though Alyna was not entirely sure why.

"You stalk the Dark Lady's lands," Cyndia almost purred. "Naturally, she would wish to know why." Her tone had become fierce, and loyal. It would appear the flash had been anger at Alyna's disrespectful tone. She decided to diplomatically soften her voice in reply.

"I will gladly explain myself to you, sister. Perhaps, you could also convey my greetings to your queen?"

Cyndia held up a piece of folded parchment. "You can tell her yourself."

She placed it on a sizable rock between them and backed away from it towards the trees. Alyna watched as shadows appeared to swirl around Cyndia, and she disappeared into darkness before she had actually reached the treeline. Alyna raised her eyebrow at the trick. When she had first realised her ranger spells would no longer work, she had gone through a deep shock. For some reason, she had thought the Lich King had suppressed her abilities to force her to use magic. Once free, she had been looking forward to being a ranger again. That had not been the case. Shadow and frost were her arts now, not the natural magic of a ranger. Over the last two weeks she had managed to adapt her abilities to mimic some of the ranger arts she had in life, but what she had just seen was beyond what she had managed so far.

Alyna stared at the parchment. The small voice at the back of her mind was screaming at her to pick it up, but she had her doubts. Sylvanas clearly knew she existed, but how? What did that mean? Why did she want to meet up with her? Alyna had been an enemy of the Forsaken for the last five years, and had actively done things against the faction of undead her former fiancée ruled. Did Sylvanas know that too? Was she being invited to her execution? If Sylvanas tried to destroy her, was she prepared to respond in kind to defend herself?

The thought made her sick. She was a cold-blooded killer, but she knew she could not give Sylvanas a true death. It was not love, or even sentiment that drove her unease, but a sense of connection to the woman that had dominated most of her life. She had always been relieved that the Lich King had not demanded she kill Sylvanas. Now she was free, she could not harm Sylvanas, even if it meant meeting her own true death. The former general was the only person left who could help Alyna find a purpose she believed in again. What was effective immortality if she didn't have somewhere to belong?

Alyna realised she was very alone in this new world her actions had helped to create. Her plan to have her revenge against Arthas was doomed to fail unless she could find allies, and Sylvanas was her best hope. They at least had that goal in common.

The possible rewards outweighed the risk of her true death, so Alyna stepped forward cautiously towards the parchment, fully aware that Cyndia would still be watching. The parchment had been sealed with black wax, but there was no stamp embedded in it. It would appear Sylvanas was being cautious in case the note fell into the wrong hands. She broke the seal to read its contents. The words were in Thalassian, and she recognised the hand writing. It was definitely from Sylvanas.

If you wish to carve a new beginning for yourself again, you know where to go.

Clever, Alyna thought. If Cyndia had been tempted to read the note, she would have no idea what it referred to or where it sent her.

Alyna knew where to go, and she guessed Cyndia would try to follow her. She could not blend into the shadows as Cyndia had, but Alyna had been taught her craft by the best ranger Quel'Thalas had ever known. While the wilds no longer responded to her call she knew much that did not require it.

The former captain pulled her hood up and smiled, allowing Cyndia to see it, and her fangs, before putting her mask in place.

Well, let her try.