Title: Redemption
Author: Korsriddare
Characters: Liadrin
Rating: K+
Summary: As they were betrayed and their darkest hour beckons, the Blood Knights will find redemption in the lady sworn to blood. Liadrin-centric, Oneshot.
Disclaimer: World of Warcraft is not mine, or I would give paladins better scaling.
A/N: Dedicated to Mako, wonderful-words (Kitten Kisses), Nefertiri and Maruta. The summary should be a fairly obvious clue when the events of this fic took place. Lightfury was the surname I chose for her, since it was a little strange she did not have one, and I figured that she probably stopped using it at the same time she stopped being a priest.

The city was in ruins. Her beloved Silvermoon, the crowning glory of Quel'thalas, was utterly destroyed. The coming of the Scourge had left a trailed of blackened land and countless corpses, the smell of burnt and diseased flesh filling the air.

Liadrin, Priestess of the Light, ran. Her parents, they were Silver Hand knights; surely they must have somehow survived this destruction, right? She ignored the cries and moans of her brethren who had returned to the desolate landscape, and ran.

Oh, by the Light, please let them be alright…

Oh, Light…

There they were, side-by-side, two abandoned figures standing amidst the many mangled bodies in the area. It took her numbed mind a moment to recognize that ear-piercing scream as her own, even as she ran towards her father and mother, forcing magical energies at their forms. She pulled out the arrows, tore away their armor, and ignored the rotting flesh as she weaved spell after spell, trying to bring them back to life.

"Where is the justice?! Where is the LIGHT?!" The high elf wailed as she dropped to her knees, screaming up at the darkening skies. Her dear, dear parents were soldiers of the Holy Light, veterans of the Silver Hand; many of her brethrens were faithful followers of the Light, choosing to wear the holy vestments. Why had this occurred to them, why did the Light abandon them? Where was the justice in it all?

And so, as the rain poured down from the skies, Liadrin stopped using her family name, renounced her vows to the priestly order, and abandoned her faith in the Holy Light.

"Matriarch Liadrin! Matriarch Liadrin!"

The brown-haired blood elf picked herself up slowly as she world came to. She could feel a hand steadying her, even as the ringing remained in her ears. Prince Kael'thas had sent an emissary bearing a 'gift', as he had said. And then something… happened, which was causing her form to arch with pain. Holding a gauntleted hand to her throbbing head, the female blood elf dared to open her eyes, "What is the situation?"

"T-the emissary… H-he and his personal guards had brought some kind of bomb, and they took the naaru away!" The male blood elf, whom she had recognized as Adept Marfael, spoke in a hurried and panicked tone. "The guards… they turned into some kind of… felborn, and attacked us! The visiting battlemasters above are aiding us, but most of us were taken out by the bomb."

Liadrin snarled, causing the adept to take a step away from her. He knew by reputation it was never pleasant to displease her, and he could see why by the wave of anger radiating from the female's form. Around the chamber in which the naaru M'uru was held imprisoned laid the fallen forms of the magisters; some were groaning and moaning in pain, while others were silent, their bodies bent at unnatural angles. The naaru itself was nowhere to be found.

"Come, this treachery must not go unpunished." It was a succinct command, and the adept followed quickly behind her. Liadrin reached behind her and clipped her shield onto her arm as she focused to draw energy that was stolen from M'uru to heal her wounds.

And nothing happened.

What in the Li-? She cut off the thought sharply as she stopped, glancing at her companion. He swallowed hard, and explained, "W-when they took M'uru away, they also seemed to… cut off the energies from it."

Liadrin's expression hardened as she resumed her path back up to the main level of the Blood Knight headquarters with a growing sense of rage. She moved up the ramp as it curled towards the main streets of Silvermoon City itself, and into carnage.

The battle was fully joined. Blood elves clashed against somethings that were not quite blood elves anymore, their skins unnaturally colored, horns protruding from their foreheads, and the green pulse of fel energy visible from the cracks on their skins. Her lips parted slightly in surprise.

These… these former brethrens of hers had been fully corrupted by the demonic forces. Having to rely on demonic energy to feed their magical addiction was one thing, but to have fel blood flowing right through their veins… It was an abomination of the highest degree. Just what had Prince Kael'thas done?

She drew her personal sword, the aptly named Checkmate, from her scabbard to parry the incoming blow of her demonic brethren, the felblood's cracked lips formed into a sneer. "Not so tough without the naaru to give you energy now, Lady Liadrin?" He mocked.

The blood knight pushed his blade away as she glared at the being that she would have once called her comrade. Not anymore. "You'll pay for this treachery, scum."

"Now that's where you are wrong, dear lady. We serve the Prince. If anything, you're the one who is being treacherous for raising arm against a loyal servant from the House of Sunstrider." The felblood gave her another mocking grin. Several of his fellows joined them as they surrounded her, the adept following her having fallen in their initial exchange. He made a gesture, and they closed in for the kill.

For a moment, despair flooded her. Was it how the Children of Blood would be? To go down the path of demonic influence? To be just another pawn of the Burning Legion? She had not seen it coming, but with this attack, the fragmented reports coming from the Outlands finally made sense. Kael'thas Sunstrider was leading them down into the path of damnation, not salvation, and her precious Knights were about to be defeated in their own home, weakened from the theft of the source of their power.

Yes, each and every loyal Blood Knight was precious to her - in them she had found kinship and camaraderie. They might have been vilified by many, yet they did what had to be done to protect Silvermoon, to protect Quel'thalas. Her gauntleted hand tightened into a fist beneath her shield. There was no way these scums would defile their sanctuary, she was not going to let them do so.

Years ago, she had lost her two most precious people on Azeroth. She would not let it happen again, not while she was still standing, still breathing. She might have claimed to forsake the Light, because the Light had forsaken her; yet when she drew that first siphon of energy from M'uru, it was with the intention to serve and protect.

To serve. To protect. To not give up. To respect. The teachings of the Holy Light had covered these aspects, the source of how a knight might draw his or her power upon. These emotions and willingness to better the world around them. If these feelings existed, so must be the universe they reacted upon.

The female blood elf almost gasped in surprised as she felt a sudden warmth soothed her body, soothed her soul. Her aches began to lessen, and the ringing from her ears disappeared. That peaceful, gentle warmth which she had missed, which she had long ago stopped believing in was there again. She might have grown a little more embittered, a little more cynical towards the world, yet that inner priestess within her welcomed the presence.

That inner priestess which made her gentler to new recruits, to cry silently at night for each fallen knight, to pray quietly for the salvation of her people.

Perhaps it was wrong, she thought, to think that the Light had forsaken her. Perhaps it was that she had forsaken it in her despair, giving in to her hatred, her anger. Or perhaps it was her who had to grow up, to see the Light for what it was.

Lady Liadrin Lightfury, Matriarch of the Order of Blood Knight, was a sight to behold as she channeled the Light through herself. The air around her seemed to shimmer with a white glow, and even the felbloods that surrounded her took a step backwards, their expressions that of shock and surprise as the green hue of her eyes turned golden. Such was her strength, such was her power.

A pair of wings, pure and incandescent, extended out from behind her, their very nature the essence of Light.

"I am the avatar of the Light, the embodiment of its wills, the slayer of its enemies, the bringer of justice." She spoke in a voice that was hers, and so much more. Her words carried through the room, yet were not particularly loud to those present. The fighting stopped, as both friends and foes alike turned to her. It was almost hypnotizing to watch, to bask in her presence at that moment.

"I hereby consecrate this land in the name of the Light, so that those who follow I shall find it the safest of sanctuary, and those who oppose I shall find it the bane of their existence."

She brought her hand together up in the air above her head with a glorious cry, "In the name of the Light!"

The ground around them seemed to glow white as they felt warmth penetrating their forms, the wings behind her disappearing in a great flash. The floor itself seemed to crack as veins of pure light burst into being, covering the entire room. Screaming began as the felbloods began to writher and turn, their bodies burning and shuddering under the divine fury of Liadrin's wrath. Yet it was as she said, only her foes burnt, and her allies watched on, a strange sense of calm settling upon their sensations.

And then it all ended, the glow disappearing from the room, from her. Blood Knights and the battlemasters alike looked at her with growing awe, at her display of pure power. Liadrin smiled gently, the expression somehow fitting on the lady knight.

"Get my honor guards, we're heading to Outland."

The Light was eternal.