Chapter 15: For Wherever Light Shines, There is Always Shadow
Even with love, laughter, and joy it appears we are left drowned in our own sorrows
For it seems that wherever light is cast, soon from the darkness shall rise the shadows
"Does he suspect anything of our arrangement?"
"No, he is far too obsessed with his thoughts of crushing the Sentinel. Don't worry, the fool is entirely oblivious of your presence here. Besides, he trusts me far too much... too much for even his own good. "
"Very well. But remember, this alliance is only temporary. Once he is dethroned, we part our ways and never speak of this again. Understood?"
"Ha, you think I actually like having to go through this?"
"Fine, but I am however, rather curious. Answer me Dark Knight, why would one such as yourself accept my offer? Your hatred alone couldn't incur such spite on your part."
"That is none of your concern."
"I must know whether I can trust you. Afterall boy, I have countless other souls I can turn to. "
"For love and for hatred, you need not know more than that."
A crisp, calming breeze swept past his fevered brow. He ran a glove-clad hand through his soft and suple golden locks of hair. It had lost much of its once glorious gleam. Nonetheless, while shimmering in the rays of sunlight, it still managed to retain vestiges of its rather elegant texture.Even in his grim and sorrowful state, he still had a divine presence about his gait. For every step he took, the blight seemingly dissipated beneath. Ironic it was for a man of such holy blood to be tainted with the foul touch of death. His dark-hazel eyes stared into the horizon, seemingly aimlessly. In those deep pools of hazel, a mere mortal could lose himself forever. To the observer, a plethora of emotions could be seen brimming at the surface, yet upon closer inspection, he would be able to see so much more. Intense flames of a passionate desire kindled, in contrast to the regretful sorrow of a man who had just lost that which he had held most dear. Rejection, anger, hatred, profound confusion and bewilderment were but a fraction of the feelings engraved in those eyes.
Somewhere, in the midst of all the despair and hatred that overshadowed his inner feelings of hope and piety, beat the kind heart of a wise, compassionate soul. With a heavy heart, Purist marched across the blighted soil towards a place he once called home. Home, a place of sanctity from all these vices of the world, and shelter from these god-forsaken creatures. Once bitter foes that he mercilessly slaughtered in the name of the Holy Light were now his allies reigning from the era of darkness.
Behind him followed a Legion of Undead creatures consisting of skeletal warriors, ghouls, sorcerors, wizards, and abominations of all kinds. Not a single Scourge general stood in the rows behind him, however. They had all been sent to scattered lands to do Abaddon's bidding. Each with a mission to fulfill, essential for the expansion of the Scourge. Kingdoms of distant lands were sieged by different generals and commanders of the Undead army. The fate of some were undecided at this point, while some had already been inflicted by the corruption and taint of the Scourge. Unlike these other generals however, it was the Dark Knight's duty to unleash the final assault on the Sentinel army. Dissension was already tearing their faction from within, leaving them in a very fragile and delicate state. Abaddon had decided to sieze this oppurtunity to end the war, once and for all.
Their journey stretched on for thousands of miles it seemed. The intense, scorching heat of the afternoon sun had died down to the faint glow of twilight. Their path endlessly continued, yet they relentllessly persisted to march towards their destination. Like sheep, the Undead minions mindlessly followed Purist Thunderwrath, their chosen shepherd. Bitterly ironic it was, for he once was a shining beacon of light for all those holy, but now was one with the vile denizens of the darkness. His mind screamed at him to turn back, to somehow reject the offer made to him, and just forget all that had happened. But his heart carried him onwards with a strong resolve to set things right. He couldn't leave them in this sorrowful, pitiful state. He had made a commitment and a promise, both of which he held sacred.
Forgive me Lina, I never meant for it to be this way. Someday, you'll thank me for this.
Slowly, the scenery around them began to change. The desolate, forsaken lands gave way to newly flourishing and thriving grasslands. Dying shrubs were purged from the sight, only to be replaced by the luscious greenery of trees and vineyards. Instead of putrid corpses rotting in the dust, frisky little critters happily frolicked in the fields. It was a magical feeling... as if life was slowly ressurecting from the remains of the dead. Lost feelings of hope slowly rejuvenated in Purist's soul. His iron will and resolve had never been any stronger.
Purist suddenly stopped in mid-step to let the tranquility of his surroundings sink in. It was an eerie, disturbing sort of silence, yet the feeling of being alone kept the Dark Knight contented. Just a short time ago, he stood here as one of the Sentinel, and defended it from the Scourge. Yet now, he treaded over the bodies over his former comrades, standing alongside his former enemies. He felt not a tinge of guilt or remorse, for he knew his decision was his own. Time was of the essence now, and every second he wasted, endangered his newfound mission.
The undead army had finally reached the Shanad'ar outpost yet there was not a living soul in sight. Archers had abandoned their outposts, Protectors lay withering in the dust, and corpses were piled around fiercely burning flames. One by one, necromancers and acolytes gathered around the decaying bodies. Like clockwork, the acolytes loaded them onto the meat wagons while the necromancers began chanting spells of ressurection. Skeletons reanimated from the corpses and were quickly recruited onto the Scourge lines. Souls materialized from the twisting nether and posessed the bodies of the elves. Bodies that were damaged irreparably and scarred from necromantic magics, were stitched together for the summoning of an abomination from the deepest corners of the abyss.
"Dark Knight, we await your command." spoke a necromancer, breaking Purist's intense meditation.
"We leave now." responded Purist firmly.
The necromancer strongly intervened, "But master, we haven't even finished our preparations. There is also the matter of--"
The Dark Knight harshly interrupted, "I said we leave now. The more time we waste, the closer it is to nightfall."
"At once... master Purist." said the necromancer in a cowering tone.
"Oh and tell the acolytes to load the wagons first and rendezvous with us later." said the Dark Knight in a quirky manner.
He was responded by a blank look of disbelief and confusion. Purist snapped at him, "Are you waiting for me to hold your hand, you dim-witted fool!"
The wizard-like being hastily scurried into the heart of the undead crowd, and began screaming out orders. They swiftly obeyed and immediately reacted to his command. The deformed creatures hurriedly ceased their rituals and formed organized rows once more. Purist smiled just a little that moment, for inside he laughed at how alike the Undead were to his own kin. The Dark Knight led the march once more, not noticing at all the stranger lurking in the shadows.
Finally, we've reached...
The sun had all but faded from sight and there was a single living creature across the vast horizon. They had been wandering through the forests for hours now, but were grateful that the beating rays of sunlight had finally died down. Even the crisp winds had begun to cease to dart across the grassy earth. The entire time, Purist's left hand lay fixated upon the hilt of his sword. All the while, he concentrated intently over what he was about to do. Regret...remorse... all those feelings came rushing back. But, he had made a promise, and there was no backing out now. That would be a coward's way out, and Purist Thunderwrath was no coward. If necessary, he would fight valiantly to the death.
I think this is the place... Lina, forgive me
His sudden halt sent waves of confusion throughout the Undead army trailing behind. Faint murmurs suddenly grew to loud whispers, as they began asking their comrades what their leader was planning. Purist turned towards them, standing proudly and boldly. A single teardrop slid down his wrinkled gray complexion, and his golden locks of hair swayed in the prevailing winds. With a heavy heart, he stared at the army that awaited his next command. They patiently waited, puzzled, yet observed silence to depict their sheer obedience. The Dark Knight almost felt pity for them at that moment, but he had come too far to back now.
His voice echoed through the hearts, and minds of all that stood before him, "Forgive me. Forgive me, for I have made a mistake."
Upon conceiving this strange remark of their leader, the vile creatures exchanged looks of unmistakenable bewilderment.
He took a deep breath, and continued in his usual formal manner of tone, "Forgive me, for I have sinned. You stand before me, as one, under the banner of Abaddon, yet I have sinned. I seek to atone for my sins now, I seek repentance... forgive me."
Even the cleverest of entities among the Undead were baffled now at the Dark Knight's bizarre rambling. It was purely non-sensical, yet they patiently waited to try and comprehend the gist of what was being said to them. They could not fathom at all the gravity of the situation, nor even begin to understand the repurcussions of what was to happen.
The Dark Knight continued, "Today, you sought out to eradicate the Sentinel, and put an end to this seemingly endless stalemate. So blind were you in trying to achieve victory, that you accepted even your bitterest of enemies with open arms, hoping that they would accept you as openly as you did them. Truly pitiful you are, to even begin to imagine, that we would accept you on this world of ours. You do not belong here, you are the vermin, the scum of this planet.
The Light has not forsaken me, yet your Lord has chosen to forsake you. Ner'zhul is displeased with how quickly you accepted his murderer as the new king. He breathed life into your soulless corpses, yet you turned your back upon him the moment he was gone. Arthas is displeased, and he has chosen to forsake you, just as you had forsaken him. Yes, all of you. Each and every one of you followed that fool Abaddon like sheep, and now, you are left to the mercy of his enemies, and rest assured, they will not take kindly to your presence in these parts."
Purist smiled and spoke coldly, "They shall come from all sides, and hail arrows upon your rotting corpses. They will slaughter each and every one of you, just as you had mercilessly laid siege upon their homelands. Let it be known, that not a single Undead shall be spared. No pardon shall be granted to those who have tainted blood flowing through their veins. Your fate has been decided, and let it be known, that your Lord has chosen to forsake you. And what of me you ask? The Light has bestowed upon me the honour of sealing your fate."
As soon as Purist's speech drew to a close, a harsh realization of horror, soon gave way to feelings of animosity amongst the Undead. They seethed with anger for being deceived so, and each drew their weapons with great dexterity. A blanket of darkness covered the night sky, and lanterns suddenly became alit in the darkness surrounding the legions of the scourge. With a beastial fury fueled by their sheer malice, they charged towards the former Omniknight - hellbent on tearing him apart, limb from limb. The Dark Knight's hand instinctively went towards the hilt of his sword, and he raised the powerful blade skywards. A golden aura of immense power enveloped Purist from all sides, embuing a mystical energy in the center of the blade itself. The radiance of the sword pushed the darkness back, and lit the entire field in a grand splendor. Searing pain shot through the flesh of the Undead creatures as he lunged towards them.
Their tender flesh sizzled under the intense rays of light, as well as scorching the delicate whites of their eyes. They blindly swung their cleavers, claws, and staffs at Purist Thunderwrath, but he swiftly evaded each of their attacks with ease. He swung his blade in a complete arc in front of him, and pierced through the thick hides of the line of abominations that stood before him. From the ground suddenly erupted a divine being, shining in golden armor and shimmering, celestial wings of silver. A single halo materialized above the former Omniknight's head, as he deflected an oncoming attack with complete ease. While maintaining a cool and calm composure, he hacked away at every creature that stood before him. For every rusty knife that embedded into his skin, the angelic being that stood above him restored his vilaity and sealed his wounds. Purist dug his sword furiously into each of the undead, slaughtering them one by one. His hatred fueled the thrusts of his blade, desperately trying to restore the Dark Knight of his former glory. His compexion grew fairer, smoother once more. His locks of hair returned to its graceful texture, and brilliant golden hue.
Forgive me Lina, I never planned for it to happen this way
Bolts of shadow pierced into his skin, weakning him further with each passing second, but he cared not. He fought valiantly and planned to do so until his very last breath. Silently in awe, the elves watched from the shadows at the impressive display. No matter how many successive strikes were made by the assaulting Undead, Purist's step did not falter, and his graceful elegance of battle did not fade. With the same courage and resolve that he had fought with his entire life, he did so for the very last time. He relished the moment of peace, and was grateful for the chance he was bestowed upon. Joy flooded his heart, yet the grief of losing Lina forced it back out. He formed a smile, after so long, and quickly made a sideways slash to slice off the arm of a ghoul.
The Gods had given him this one chance... and there would never be such a chance again. The kind-hearted Zeus had granted him this second chance, and he would not let him down. The God of Olympia, supreme head of the Elders, had intervened with the fate decided for the Omniknight, and granted this last chance. Zeus's decision of interfering with mortal affairs would cost him greatly in the future, but he blissfully accepted the consequences that were to be the outcome of his actions. To find such a holy and pious man amongst the sinful denizens of the world was a rare find indeed.
I've kept my end of the deal Arthas, you'd best keep to yours...
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Do you believe that one man can have an impact on the lives of others? I do, for I believe that one mere soul can affect many lives. His acts of compassion, and his simplistic actions could very drastically change the life of someone he may not even know. Inevitably, our choices do matter, whether the outcome of the decisions we make are for better, or for worse. It takes only a single man to change the course of destiny. Perhaps, in his life, he was a shining beacon of hope for others, or perhaps he was someone that others looked up to. Unbeknownst to him, he could have been the love of someone else's life, but could have also brought great distress to another. However he influences another person, be it by love, laughter, joy, compassion, or even sorrow, yet there is no true way to know how great an influence he might have had or how important he was in their lives. It is said, every man lives, but not every man truly dies. He lives forever in our hearts, in our spirits, and in our souls. Perhaps it is true that change can be brought even from the great beyond. But, to say the that death is truly the end, is an act of ignorance. Death is just a dream, rather the eternal dream, that one finally slumbers through peacefully. But when death comes to him, he begins to question the outcomes of his actions. Were his actions justified according to the circumstances, or were they just the final acts of a desperate man who was afraid to lose that which he loved most? Only time can tell... only time can tell...
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