Author's note:

I cannot believe, even a little, that I was able to update this story! I've been stuck on it for so long: all I had on the page was "chapter 52" for the longest time, then all of a sudden, two days ago, my muse appeared, and bam, here I am writing again!

I know that it's been over 18 months since I last updated Roses & Thorns and that you've all been waiting for updates. All I can say is that I'm so sorry to not have written: you can't force what isn't there. And frankly, I've been completely disillusioned with the game. I've actually unsubbed from it, but that doesn't mean I won't be updating this story! I'm determined to finish it, especially since my inspiration seems to be back!

I don't know when my next update will be, but hopefully, I'll post another chapter within the next two weeks!

Lots of love,
Lunarelle

They'd taken most of the day to get to Wrynnfall. They would have made much better time, but the sheer number of demons had made it difficult for them to move fast, and so they'd been forced to move at a slower pace.

Faith had taken a small team with her comprised of Vilak and Garia, along with several other people who had arrived on the Broken Shore just an hour before she'd departed, including the gnome Tink, Eliza and Mavren, who had come over from Undercity, and Avelin, whose knowledge of the Light would definitely make putting spirits to rest easier.

"I haven't seen that many hostile undead since the Battle of Andorhal," said Mavren quietly as they looked at the barren expanse dotted only with jagged rocks and, indeed, many, many undead.

"Damned necromancers," whispered Avelin. "I can't believe they raised so many of them. Are we looking at everyone who fell?"

"Most of them, I reckon," said Faith in a low voice.

They watched the undead, some of them spirits while others were more corporeal, shambling around, Horde and Alliance soldiers combined. Faith saw at least six undead trolls along with fallen Sin'dorei, which broke her heart. There were also many orcs and humans, some wailing while others ate a dead carrion bird.

"I didn't realize that the Horde had lost so many soldiers," said Tink.

"Did you think we were kidding when we mentioned that the Horde had suffered losses during the campaign?" Garia asked her. "Because we didn't: it was terrible for us too."

"Now I understand why you had to retreat, especially if your warchief was injured," said Avelin.

Faith closed her eyes against an onslaught of memories of seeing Atalo falling. "Our warchief, Thrall, Baine… we were not faring well that day," she said. "Factor in King Varian, Tirion, and all the members we lost from the Argent Crusade, and I think we can say that the Legion gave us a thorough thrashing."

She surveyed the expanse before them, biting her lip thoughtfully.

"Avelin, how many can you take out in one go with the Light?"

"Maybe four at once. What about you with your black fire?"

"It depends on how much power I put behind it. Four's my usual as well, but I've been known to take out groups of ten with one spell when the situation demanded it."

"I think that the situation will demand it," said Eliza quietly. "I wish we had more people: there are a lot of undead there."

"Ask and you shall receive," said a voice behind them.

Faith whipped her head around, "By the Sunwell!" she hissed. "Beverly!" She all but ran at the human woman and hugged her, "It is good to see you, my friend. Guys, this is Beverly, she was with me in Icecrown when we killed Arthas."

Beverly smiled at everyone and looked behind her, where several people were standing, including, to Faith surprise, members of the First Magi Corps. "I wasn't planning on bringing so many people," she said. "But the moment they heard that I was going to join you, they decided to come along,"

"You're a sight for sore eyes," said Mavren. "It'll be easier for us to get rid of all these hostile undead with you around." He looked at Faith, "What do you think? Divide and conquer?"

She nodded, "Two groups, one takes the left flank, while the other's on the right. We'll take care of things here, then go up on the ridge."

And so started what they knew was going to be a very long campaign to get rid of the undead on the Broken Shore.

Faith took a team to take out the left flank, which seemed more heavily populated, while Avelin took care of the right flank. Beverly stayed with her, and they both lost count of how many undead they put to rest.

"How many people did they raise?" asked Tink as they regrouped with the other team. All of them were tired, but they hadn't lost anybody, which was a minor miracle. "I haven't seen that many of them since I was in Northrend…"

"I think the question is more about why they raised so many undead…" said Avelin. "It doesn't make much sense."

Faith glanced at him and smiled a little, "I'm surprised to hear you say that Avelin: you've fought the Scourge, same as I did."

"What do you mean?"

"They're undead: they never get tired, they don't need to eat, and most of them follow orders without question. They're the perfect soldiers, really, and by the time less-experienced soldiers have reached the leaders of the undead army, they're too exhausted to think straight."

"You think that they raised them as a vanguard?" he wondered, tugging on one of his face tentacles.

A nod, "I actually wouldn't be surprised if one of their necromancers were watching us right now."

"Now?!" squeaked Tink, looking around as though she expected to see a lich sprouting from the ground.

"Wouldn't you be glad to see your enemies tiring themselves out on the battlefield before going to fight them?"

"It's sound strategy," said Beverly. "And you can bet that the Legion, with their millennia of experience, would have thought about it before we did."

"Should we go back to Deliverance Point?" asked a soldier. "I mean, we'd be better off there, wouldn't we?"

Eliza shook her head, "No. We need to finish what we've started, at least for now, and get rid of as many of these fiends as we can. Trust me, I know this from experience."

"She's right," said Faith. "We should go to the ridge. You'll understand better what we faced when you get up there, I think."

They all made their way there, Faith fighting down the memories that threatened to make her lose her mind. It was still too vivid, even though… had it almost been a year ago? How was that even possible?

"Oh, Light preserve us…" hissed Avelin as they reached the ridge.

The rocky expanse still bore traces of the terrible battle that had taken place there. Blood spatters stained the ground around bits of broken armor bearing the Horde insignia.

Faith picked up a torn Horde banner, feeling the rugged material between her fingers as she looked ahead of her.

What looked like hundreds of spirits and undead walked above the cliffs that overlooked the Tomb of Sargeras. She saw so many risen tauren that she would have vomited on the spot had her digestive system still been working.

"Why does it look like you lost more people than we did?" asked an Alliance soldier.

"I think we did," replied Garia, her voice quiet. "There's a reason we had to leave the way we did."

"But how?" asked Tink. "What happened?"

Still holding the banner, Faith walked over to where she could still feel the traces of the demonic portals that had opened behind them as they'd tried to cover King Varian. She reached out a hand and pale blue magic seeped from her fingers until it had outlined all of the portals that had been there.

"That's what happened," she said. "The Legion opened portals behind us, and before we even knew what had happened, we were completely outnumbered. Even Sylvanas couldn't hold them at bay, and I have never seen her run from a fight."

The soldier shook his head, "I know that she died trying to fight off the Scourge, and she was a hero for doing so, but you have to admit that the Sylvanas Windrunner we know now isn't the same person."

"I can't disagree with that, but she still doesn't run from a fight."

"No, Faith, she would run from a fight," said Vilak. "She'd run to save you."

Faith said nothing for a while, trying to figure out how to start getting rid of all of the undead before them.

But the decision was made for her as one of them came too close to her, wailing and reaching for her. It was an undead orc, and she cast her black fire at it just as Beverly called out a warning to her.

The undead began to attack them, as though they'd waited for some unseen signal.

"I told you the necromancers were watching us!" cried Faith. "Incoming!"

It was an undead attack the likes of which Faith hadn't seen since the Battle of Andorhal.

They fought, hard, all of them using every means at their disposal to get rid of as many of the risen as they possibly could.

"Oh, I don't think so," came an eerie voice, just as it looked like victory was near for them.

"Kythira," hissed Faith. "Show yourself, you coward!"

"You only get to fight me after you fight our newest undead champion, chief of the Raincaller tribe, Atalo!"

What did she say?

"Oh, by the gods…"

"She didn't…"

"Oh, General Windrunner, I'm so sorry…"

Faith's shriek of agony was so loud that it caused all manner of creatures to take flight. Everyone there, covered their ears as it washed over them, freezing their blood. The people at Deliverance Point who heard it, for it traveled far, looked up, stunned.

Atalo was coming forth from the shadows, but it wasn't the Atalo Faith had known in life, although his form appeared vaguely the same.

His eyes, which had been a rich vibrant brown, now were dead and crawling with maggots. His once-clean fur was matted with blood and gore, multiple cuts across his body oozing a pestilential liquid that seemed to have come from the very bowels of a Scourge fortress. His muzzle was pulled back in a snarl, ropy tendrils of greenish saliva dripping from it, and his hooves were cracked and caked with some unimaginable mess.

Oblivion threatened to take Faith as she took in this new image of Atalo, the tauren who had taken her in, her new father. His image merged with images of her family when they'd been risen into undeath.

Kythira was laughing. "Oh, I'm so sorry, little Faith, was he someone close to you?"

"Damn her to every hell in the world, she really raised him," came a familiar voice.

A gentle hand took Faith's fingers, squeezing them tightly.

"Come on, my love, you can do this."

"Sylvanas…"

"I'm here, my queen. I'm here."

"We cannot leave him like this," she whispered, dusty tears running down her face.

"No," agreed Sylvanas. "We can't."

"I can't fight him, Sylvanas…"

"Yes, you can. You can put his spirit to rest, once and for all. You can honor him now, in death, as you did when he was alive. Go on, baby. Only you can do this."

Sylvanas' words had a sobering effect on Faith. Still feeling fragile, she straightened up and readied Felo'melorn, which had turned inky black because of her grief. Now, it seemed to pulse with golden light.

The undead creature who had once been Atalo faced her and attacked, using an enormous fel-tinged mace that was bigger than his head. Faith called out a spell, her blade instantly erupting into black flames that parried his hit, but only just. She was pushed back a foot, for he was physically far stronger than her.

But she knew magic that the Burning Legion could only dream of.

Her hands suddenly began to burn as she channeled a new spell, one born of the sun.

"Sylvanas, shield yourself!" she called.

Sylvanas did as she asked, as did her companions as a beam of glaring sunlight suddenly hit Atalo square in the eyes, and despite the fact that he was supposed to be blind, he gave an enraged bellow of pain, letting go of his pace and pawing at his eyes, which allowed Faith to swing Felo'melorn in an arc, its fire catching on his fur.

"I don't think so," said Kythira. "Come forth, my minions!"

"Take care of them!" ordered Sylvanas as imps and fel hunters surged forward. "Cut off the hounds' tentacles before they suck you dry of magic!"

Everyone, even the Alliance soldiers, followed her orders and went to counter the demons that Kythira had sent to distract Faith.

Sylvanas, for her part, kept her eyes on Faith, wanting to step in and help her but knowing that she had to do this on her own, whether she wanted to or not.

This is your fight, my heart. You can do it.

And fight she did. This undead version of Atalo was more resilient, and more cruel. He spoke to her in ways that were sure to haunt her every waking moment, even though she fought against what he was saying.

"My little Faith. The rotten child. You should join us. We would be unstoppable with the Legion. Let us lay this world to waste and conquer the rest of the planets in the Twisting Nether."

"That line of reasoning didn't work with me when Arthas tried it on me, and it sure as hell won't work coming from you!" she screamed, swinging her sword again. This time, she caught his hand, severing four of his fingers in one go. He bellowed.

"The power you will gain from the Legion is unlike anything you will ever know here."

Faith pointed the palms of her hands straight down and cried out a spell that froze Atalo's feet into the ground. A second later, she had called out a much stronger incantation, which caused a surge of sunlight to hit Atalo in the chest so hard that he was blasted off his feet and into a boulder.

She walked towards him as he tried to get to his feet, but didn't give him the chance to get up.

"I'm sorry, Father," she said, her voice trembling. "I love you."

And with those words, she covered his body in her black fire, forcing herself to listen to his cries as he burned to ash.

"An'she guide your spirit back to your ancestors, Atalo Raincaller."

Sylvanas was behind her, "I knew you could do it."

"I killed my father."

"You killed the creature the Legion turned your father's body into. Atalo has been gone for a while, my love, ad he died fighting for our world, never forget that."

It wasn't something she could forget.

"Kythira," she snarled. "Show yourself."

A fel portal appeared to their left, and as Faith watched, the eredar stepped out of it, looking none too pleased.

"Atalo was weak," she sneered.

"Make no mistake, you foul hag, Atalo was worth more than the entire Legion combined," Faith told her.

"The Legion is laying waste to your world as we speak!" she screamed. "You will never survive it, nev—."

Faith's spell hit her at the same time as one of Sylvanas' arrows, and she was unable to sidestep either of them. She gave a loud scream.

"Cowards! You're breaking the rules of engagement!"

"You are a member of the Burning Legion," said Sylvanas. "The last time I kept to the rules of engagement when it came to them, it didn't go so well for my people." As she spoke, she fired two more arrows, which Faith shrouded in magic.

"Besides," said Faith, "you attacked us. I don't see why we should give you any kind of honorable death, Kythira. You certainly don't deserve any of it."

"Now!" shouted Sylvanas.

Every member of the Horde and the Alliance who had been on the ridge suddenly converged upon Kythira, hitting her with a barrage of spells and weapons. Tink threw a knife at her with incredible accuracy, which hit an exposed part of her armor. Garia, using both of her runeblades, broke off part of the armor covering Kythira's shoulder. Vilak immediately capitalized on that by planting his axe into her flesh.

Kythira screamed for help, but evidently the Legion wasn't going to do anything about their soldier being killed. Of course, she would return to the Twisting Nether and regenerate, but that could take decades, if not longer, and hopefully, they would have gotten rid of the demons by then.

Little by little, they broke down every bit of her armor, until finally, there was only the demon left, bleeding from two dozen places. Beverly and Garia held both her arms tightly.

"Go ahead, Faith, finish her off," said Sylvanas.

"It is not in my nature to kill any creature when they're completely defenseless," murmured Faith. "But I'm willing to make an exception in this case. See you around, necromancer."

Taking Felo'melorn, she sliced Kythira's head clean off her shoulders, wincing as she did it. The head rolled off like some grotesque ball and Vilak picked it up before impaling it on a nearby spear and allowing Avelin to bless the ground with Holy Light to prevent reanimation. In the meantime, Faith incinerated her body.

"That was gruesome," she said as they began to walk away from the ridge. "And it didn't make me feel a bit better about what she did to Atalo."

"Just like killing Arthas did nothing to ease the pain you felt over what he did to me," Sylvanas told her. "But hopefully it'll make the Legion understand that we don't take kindly to necromancers on this planet."

Faith looked at her, an eyebrow raised, "Who are you, and what have you done with my Sylvanas?"

"What?"

"We don't take kindly to necromancers on this planet?"

"I wasn't a necromancer until Arthas raised me from the dead," she said stubbornly.

"Well, that's completely true," agreed Faith. "You certainly weren't raising the dead when you were Ranger-General Windrunner, that's for sure, not unless you have a really big surprise for all of us."

Sylvanas chuckled, "You knew me better than that, even if you pretended not to, Faith."

They went back to Deliverance Point, where Khadgar was wholly surprised to see Sylvanas.

"What happened?" he asked. "Faith, we heard you screaming, and… Warchief, what in the world are you doing here?"

Faith didn't feel up to recounting what had happened on the ridge, and so let Mavren take care of it.

"So, you killed the necromancer," said Illidan. "That's very good."

Faith shook her head, "We killed one necromancer. I'm not novice enough to think that Kythira raised all of those corpses by herself. I guarantee you that there are more of them inside the Tomb of Sargeras."

She sounded grim enough that even Illidan nodded, probably knowing better than all of them what she was talking about.