Chapter 12: Through the Eyes of the Watchful Stranger

Unknown to us, our very actions are being noted, and carefully being watched over
Not a thought is left un-noticed, our very actions on looked by the wandering rover

"You mustn't hesitate, your failure in this could very well cost us this war."

"I understand, master. I shan't let you down."

The Assassin lay perched into the shadows, peering down at the wooden huts below. Memories of this place still haunted her. Time had come and gone, but she crouched silently, motionless. Not a soul was in sight, but she could sense the presence of her prey. He was a powerful being, perhaps the most powerful of them all. However, as time slowly passes, power fades, as does the strength to fight back. Life grows feebler, and more fragile, and once love is taken away from it, the being s left as but a shadow of their former self. She would end his suffering tonight; she wouldn't let him continue to live alone. No mercy would be granted this day, just as he had for her.

"Mortred, do you understand the gravity of this situation? That old fool was growing stronger, yet for the time being is weak. I can feel his strength draining, and if we strike now, then this war can be finished once and for all, right here, and right now. "

"Master... Abaddon. I will not let you down."

"He already struck down the Lich King. It is only a matter of time before he regains what energy he has left. Furion must not live to see the sight of day tomorrow. If he is able to, be rest assured, I do not tolerate failure. Now, get out of my sight."

Mortred clutched her dagger's handle tightly. Before today, malice and spite were all she had left to live for. But not today, no, not any longer. Her deceitful ways had proved beyond expectations, and her "master" knew not of what she planned. Betrayal was a feeling she was well accustomed to by now, but this was far beyond that which she could have even begun to fathom. Behind the iron mask that she wore, a fiendish grin began to form. Her elven hearing suddenly detected sudden movement below. Calmly, she faded into the shadows. The surrounding darkness enveloped her completely, until she appeared to be a part of the surroundings itself. A sea of people suddenly flooded the narrow path leading downhill. Races and creeds of all kinds were cluttered together, standing united with their heads lowered mournfully. An eerie sound of a horn was heard, and the large crowd of people began walking. At the far back, two large bear-like creatures carried a large wooden casket. Fixated onto the top lay a T-shaped cross with a crescent moon carved just beneath. A bulb was intricately fastened to the cross, with three protruding branches from the center. The branches extended in the shape of a trident, and on each branch was attached a single broad leaf. Mortred instantly recognized the pattern. The leaves placed in that manner were to show reverence for the passing of a heroic leader. The bulb was a testament to their bravery and courage, and the branches were taken from Nordrassil, the World Tree of Hyjal itself.

Soon the flurry of people moved past, and tranquility had gripped the scenery once more. The Phantom Assassin's gaze shifted towards the lone hut in the corner, with its spiral archways wound around the roof. At first glance, the hut seemed as ordinary as the rest. However, to the observant eye, it was so much more. The craftsmanship of the wooden arches was commendable and even the most minor of indents appeared to be masterfully carved. She recognized this place well, for it was a place she once called home. No matter, the Phantom Assassin had made a decision, and she would not leave with an ounce of remorse. She slowly descended down the tree, taking great care not to reveal herself. As soon as her feet touched the soul beneath, they blended with the environment once more, and her entire being adjusted accordingly. She crept towards the sole window that loomed over to the side, and slowly crawled through the narrow opening. Her mind still dwelled on the events that occurred earlier that day. Her eyes had seen what should not have seen. She had heard what was not meant to be heard. She had done against what she was ordered, and it was her doing that would bring irreversible repercussions that would shake the very foundations of the world itself.

Four hours ago...

Mortred gracefully strut through the massive Citadel's corridors. She was alone, and the hallway was a dead silent. The Phantom Assassin look troubled, almost fearful. Her face was unmasked for reasons unknown, and her helm was held tightly between her arms. For a short time, she stood still outside the entrance to a narrow chamber. She hesitantly crept towards the doors without making a sound. She showed great reluctance entering through the pathway and was unmistaken ably quivering with fear. As soon as she entered, she heard a deep-throated voice speak, "Why have you kept me waiting?"

Her head sharply turned into the direction of the bearer of the voice. In his left hand, lay a glowing sword emitting an aura of frost around it. Covered in chainmail from head to toe, he suddenly rose from his seat and began walking slowly towards the Mortred. He let the blade slide onto the floor, and thought of it no more.

She stuttered as she spoke, "Forgive me, my lord. I did not mean to keep you lying in-"

"Be silent." interrupted the being abruptly, "Did Lucifer tell you anything?"

Mortred tried desperately to shift her gaze from him as she spoke, "Just that you beckoned me, master Abaddon."

"Good" spoke Abaddon slowly, yet cheerfully. His eyes met hers, and then there was silence once more. He scanned her hazy blue eyes and was seemingly lost in them. Abaddon was apparently searching for something, but the true nature of what he sought was unknown to Mortred. She feared for the worst as was emphasized by the sudden rush of beads of sweat trailing down her soft, pale face.

He ran a glove-clad hand through her blue silky hair. Moonlight that pierced through the throne windows fell upon her, and her features became clearer. He slowly trailed his other hand across her cheek, and hummed a melancholy tune as he did so. Mortred tried to pull away, but she felt a strong grip on her shoulder.

Don't... please...

"You seem frightened, my love. It is a joyous time for us, let us not dwell on the past" said Abaddon in a soft voice.

The Phantom Assassin defiantly pulled away from his grip, and spoke in a harsh tone, "You had orders for me"

Confused by her sudden anger, Abaddon spoke in a soothing voice, "Mortred, this isn't like you. Why the rush of hatred?"

Feeling belittled like a child, Mortred responded more firmly than before, "Now is not the time. You had orders for me, stop this."

Abaddon's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but soon shook his head approvingly. His voice had a more commanding tone to it now, "Very well. I believe it is time to restore order to the ranks of the Scourge. The passing of our previous leader was unfortunate, but we should not live in the past. Don't you agree?"

Mortred bit her lip to keep from lashing out. She continually glared at him, a glare so full of malice and hatred that it caused even Abaddon to worry.

After a momentary pause, he continued, "It is time to cleanse our army of Arthas's insurgents. To achieve this, we will need to strike the problem at its roots. In this case, his most loyal servant."

Mortred's eyes suddenly narrowed for she realized where the direction of this conversation was leading to.

His voice was cold and harsh as his final words were uttered, "The Lich is in Arthas's chambers, still mourning. Kill him before he suspects of any treachery."

Mortred bowed elegantly, and turned to leave. She quickly strode towards the exit, completely ignorant of the suspicion she was causing Abaddon. She awkwardly exited without looking back, even for a second glance. The Phantom Assassin lifted her helm onto her head as she quickly walked down the hall. She reached for her dagger, fastened it to her leg strap, and quickly paced towards the flight of stairs ahead. Her mask soon covered her face once more, but she had a task at hand. As she walked up the seemingly never-ending flight of stairs arced upwards in a circular path, she pondered over her predicament. She had a choice to make now, and be the choice wrong or right; ultimately she would be needed no more. So absorbed was she in her thoughts that she did not notice the figure right in front of her. They both collided into each other, and clumsily fell onto the floor. Mortred quickly rose to her feet and stared down at the female lying on the floor.

Her robe sewn of red fabric reminds of the cult of warlocks. Her long, swaying dark hair reminds me of the High Bourne. Her features however, feels more human than Elf. Is this mere child the powerful apprentice Kel'thuzad spoke of?

The Phantom Assassin gave her a quick look and tried to recall her name. She gave her a malicious look, and then spoke in a voice that brought shivers to the spine, "Alexia, is it?"

The frail looking girl rose to her feet and responded in a stammer, "Yes."

Not wasting a moment, Mortred briefly spoke, "Lord Abaddon orders you to go to Lucifer. He has a task for you to carry out of utmost importance. After you have done as he has told, you will report to Kel'thuzad and tell him to go to Abaddon's chambers. Is that understood?"

Alexia nodded her head and quickly darted down the stairs. Mortred, pleased, began to walk towards the Lich's chambers.

Hmm, interesting how I've managed to solve all my problems at once. I've got Alexia doing my task for helping Lucifer for me, and now, the Lich is all alone. Perfect...

With great haste, Mortred reached the former Lich King's private chambers. She casually hid her dagger from sight and into her armor once more. A smile formed behind the iron mask she wore. Its nature seemed mischievous, almost as if hiding a hidden motive. She stopped right outside the chamber doors and peered inside. The Lich was all alone, and there would be no witnesses for the act she was about to commit. It would be quick, and not a soul would know. She silently stepped into the chamber and gazed at Kel'thuzad's intense meditation. He could not hear her at all, and was deeply absorbed in his own thoughts.

As she stepped into the chamber, her mind was flooded with memories of what had happened earlier. It seemed but a few hours ago, before the events had occurred. She had seen what was not meant to be seen, and that had changed her fate forever. Her memories were scarred with the recurring memories, echoing and screaming deep inside the confines the inner chasms of her mind. She remembered every moment of it, and knew of every act that had happened.

She was melded into the shadows when it had happened. Ordered by the King to carry out a task, she had stubbornly disobeyed, and laid waiting in the shadows. She was there, when it happened. She was there, watching, and hearing from the darkness. She had seen the flash of green lightning, and had seen it crashing through the throne windows. She remembered the King scream is agony as the lightning tore through this armor and sizzled his very flesh. She remembered it all, and what happened after. Mortred had been there when Abaddon walked in. She was there, watching his every move, hearing his every word, and seeing his every action. She had been there, when he lifted Frostmourne off the floor. She had been there, listening to the agonizing pleas of mercy from her King. She had watched in horror as Abaddon raised the sword up high. She watched helplessly, and heard her traitorous beloved utter the words that were etched into her memory. She remembered them well, and despised him for it. Utterly helpless and afraid, she witnessed the breaking of the Prophecy. She was the lone witness of when Abaddon raised his sword, and spoke his final words to the King, "Succeeding you."

She cleared her throat and spoke in a loud, clear voice, "King Abaddon demands your presence in his chambers at once."

The Lich spat on the floor and snarled at Mortred. He responded harshly, "Bite your tongue woman, he is not my king."

A smirk appeared on the face of the Phantom Assassin. She said to him sardonically, "Your King, is the one who named him as his successor. It would be best for you to accept that now."

The Lich didn't seem to take this well. He clenched his bony fingers into a crude form of fist. He glared at her angrily while he spoke, "One more word, and I shall make sure to rip that smirk off your face."

Mortred mockingly said, "Ha, you and I both know the only reason you're losing your temper is because the new King demoted you in his ranks and put me in your place. Isn't that right, Lich?"

Kel'thuzad had begun to lose his usual calm composure. Mortred panicked slightly, but quickly controlled herself. It was then Kel'thuzad said to her, "Mortred, I'm warning you if you so much as-"

She quickly interrupted by saying, "If you so much as threat me, the entire Undead Army will hunt you down, and slaughter your precious Alexia. I'll leave you to you and your deceased King. Farewell, Master Lich."

The Lich turned his head towards the gutted corpse that lay simmering on the floor. Mortred then let the calming of the room take hold of her, and slowly melded into her surroundings, until her entire figure lay perfectly camouflaged in the contrasting colors of his throne room.

She backed up towards the shards of glass that lay scattered nearby the shattered throne room window. The wind howled behind her, and she slowly began to whisper. She rhythmically chanted, "Leave..." in a soft voice.

Kel'thuzad, suddenly brought himself to reality and tried to listen intently to the voice. His lips moved silently, seeming to ask, "My king?"

Mortred then chose to abruptly speak out slightly louder, yet still very softly, "Leave...you are in grave danger... Leave now!"

The Lich's eyes grew wide with horror, and he hurriedly hovered out of the chambers.

Mortred silently whispered repeatedly, "Death shall devour this land and all who reside in it. Only to you Ner'zhul, shall every soul submit."

Present Time

The Phantom Assassin perched from the narrow window pane and gazed intently at the Night Elf seated in his chair. He took slow and heavy breaths. His staff was held weakly in his hands, almost dangling between his fingers. He silently wept, alone, and unknown to the world. His eyes depicted pain and heartache. Dark circles around his face showed exhaustion and evident lack of sleep. Mortred felt nothing for him. This was the man that abandoned her; this was the man who had refused her a home. It was his doing that made her this way, and now she would have her vengeance.

She playfully fidgeted the dagger in her fingers as she looked intently at Furion, acclaimed Archdruid of the Night Elves. She was once like him, in fact, they were very much alike still. She shared similar features to him and even similar appearances. Old age had gripped Furion in its folds, while Mortred was still in her prime. Furion's skin seemed pale, and wrinkled, as opposed to the warmth that normally seemed to radiate from him, but not today. It was visibly apparent that he would die soon, but Mortred was here to make it quicker. It would be a slow and painful death, but a fraction of the pain and distress he had brought upon her.

Mortred was so lost in her thoughts, she was taken by surprise when Furion spoke, "I know you are there, child."

The Phantom Assassin leapt onto the hardy, wooden floor and phased out from her blended appearance. They were but a few feet apart from each other, with Mortred crouched in a deadly position on one side, and Furion sitting weakly in his chair on the other. Furion slowly rose and walked up to Mortred. He clutched his staff more strongly than before, and walked slowly towards Mortred. A deafening silence had gripped the room. After what seemed like an eternity, Furion lifted off Mortred's iron mask, and gazed into her eyes. He nodded approvingly and as a tear trailed down his cheek, he spoke soothingly to her, "Tyrande loved you, but I had to let you go. We feared for the worst, and I'm sorry it has to end this way. There is a lot of her in you still, yes, you have a lot of her in you."

Mortred rose and clasped her poisonous dagger ever so tightly. She looked painfully into his eyes as he uttered his final words, "I have nothing left to live for. End it, and let me be re-united with her once more."

He backed up slowly, and dropped the helm onto the floor of oak. She wasted not a moment, and thrust the dagger into his throat. He bled profusely, but uttered not a sound. He dropped silently on the floor, and let the poison seep into his blood. The energy radiating from his being began to rapidly fade, and a blueish hue began emanating from his body. The poison was coursing through his veins rapidly, and his strength was fading fast. His lips weakly formed into a smile, and he peacefully closed his eyes. A blue globe began to form in front of Mortred, which a familiar presence about it. She could almost hear its voice in her head, "Thank you... for reuniting me with her at last..."

As quickly as it had appeared, the blue hued spirit disappeared. The Phantom Assassin walked towards the doorway leading to the outside world. As her body began to blend into the environment and she too began to disappear from sight, she spoke for the last time. Her voice trailed across the wind, forever echoing the words,

"Farewell, father..."