Yay for a double update!

Lucas

Book Nine, Part Two

The smell of cold, dusty marble was familiar as it met my nostrils. However, my attention was quickly directed to the sound of calamity behind me. I was in the Chapel of Light, and I thanked whatever power had brought me to the location safely.

With ease I realized Taellor had made it as well, and in one piece. My heart was still fluttering from the trip over, and now it was anxiety that wouldn't let it beat normally. The pressure around my temples had returned, although the uncomfortable powerlessness was missing. It was enough evidence to tell me the Lich King was present; and the clashes of metal and roars outside signaled a battle was underway already.

Slowly, I turned toward the chapel's exit; here the rising sun was beginning to arrive. Its intensity was enough to make me stagger back as my senses still tried to adjust to everything. The hearth here had thrown my senses off enough to begin with—then there was the cloud clashes, the sun, the headache, and a looming anxiety as the mix of hot and cold auras whirled around me.

"Well, I suppose we fight?" I asked my rogue partner. I inhaled and exhaled softly—it helped soothe my nervousness somewhat, and it was enough so that I could bear the rest.

After peeling off our extra layers, we arrived outside on the battlefield together, blades at the ready. Until now, I had never actually seen a death knight—not with my own eyes, at least. And if I needed proof they weren't a silly, made up dream, then I suppose I had found it at the doorsteps of the chapel. Hundreds of the Lich King's fighters littered the battlefield, glowing blue eyes a constant reminder of their allegiance. Giant abominations towered over the fights, blocking views and becoming distractions. Our soldiers of the Plaguelands were trying their best to defend their holy place. It seemed as if allies had arrived: the living were in numbers, but we were still outnumbered.

"Where's Fordring?" I asked, concerned.

"I'm sure he has everything under control," Taellor insisted.

I was going to ask if Fordring was even present, but before I could, and adversary was swinging at me, his axe whistling through the air as I barely dodged. It was a Human death knight—or at least, it had been Human at some point. His blonde hair was now tainted in a cold silver and his eyes blazed the typical blue, but he still seemed too human as we sparred. His lips curled into a sneer and his eyebrows narrowed in ferocity; and when my blade ran through his heart, the soldier reeled back, shock overtaking his face as he finally collapsed.

Sighing, I wiped my brow with my forearm. The sun was definitely a change. I moved on to the next closest target; a Blood Elf death knight that clearly had more strength—his sword swung across, and my dagger took the full impact. The metal in my hand clanged loudly, the vibrations from the contact nearly causing me to drop my weapon.

After a few more blows, the death knight's eyes brightened, free hand clenched in front of him as if he was coiling an object. Suddenly, I was unable to move, frozen in place as all the air in my lungs felt like it was being forced out. I tried to choke for air, and the tears pricked in the corners of my eyes as the knight kept his hand clenched.

A different soldier—clothed in the crest of the Argent Dawn—arrived, his sword piercing through the adversary's torso and effectively releasing me from my invisible bonds. I collapsed, gasping for air, and before I could thank my savior, he was gone.

It took a few moments, but I did pull myself back up. That was a close, unfamiliar call. What kind of Unholy magic were these things capable of?

I scanned the field, observing our progress. We were holding our own, but who knew what the Lich King had devised…

And that's when I found him. Scanning the battle I was fighting-against Undead, powerful death knights—is where I finally found my brother.

My heart stopped completely, for who knows how long, as Lucas finished off his Human opponent. At first I stayed back, thinking perhaps my mind was simply playing tricks; but my heart knew otherwise.

The first step toward him was utterly difficult—but after the first, the others seemed to become a single, panicky glide toward my brother. As I arrived in front of Lucas, my heart kicked into overdrive, and suddenly my adrenaline was playing catch up.

Lucas pulled his long sword out of my fallen comrade, his blue eyes now glowing and gazing upon me, not a brief moment of recognition painting his face.

And I grew scared. Because I knew, at this moment, I had a decision to make; even as my own brother steadied his stance, sword at the ready to fight me.

"Lucas," I stated loudly, as if I could force it through his head with volume. The name drew no response.

I knew how hopeless these beings were. How emotionless they were after being broken and reshaped by their king. But now that my brother was one of these creatures, it was like my mind refused to acknowledge my visions, the thoughts and facts that there was no hope for them.

"Prepare for death," Lucas warned, and then he was swinging, his heavy sword swooping through the air. I sidestepped, attempting to buy more time.

He wasn't Lucas anymore. And by all regards, he was now an enemy of everything I fought for.

Except in the regard that he was, all technicalities shoved aside, my brother. And it wasn't right that I should kill…

Murder my brother?

Lucas kept attacking me, but I could only dodge as the icy chock melted away, and tears could finally form at my eyes. "Lucas, it's me," I urged, barely dodging the next attack. "It's Grace!"

My options were normally kill or be killed, but my predicament never hesitated in throwing a twist or two into my options.

I parried another of his attacks, and Lucas staggered back, giving me a chance to remove my cloak. It was really slowing me down, and a sweat was beginning to coat my back.

Lucas tried another blow, which I evaded. The death knight growled in irritation.

If I couldn't kill my brother, and I couldn't make him understand, then there certainly were others here that would finish him off. And whether he was dead or undead, Lucas would still never be one of us again. This realization had caught up with me, and for the first time since training, my emotions had overwhelmed me on the battlefield on the battlefield. I was choking back tears, but they blurred my vision anyway and left my body vulnerable.

"Stand fast, brothers and sisters!" Fordring's voice seemed to boom over the battlefield, but that could have been because I had been listening for his arrival.

Probably tired of the games, Lucas held his hand out, sword momentarily forgotten. He whispered one word, and suddenly it felt like my body was swathed in the frost of Northrend again, I felt so cold. The icy touch stung all the way through to my brain that pulsated in pain.

I cried out, but I couldn't will myself to move at all. This was the ending blow, and from my own brother. At least I would make a great tale, I mused: The little rogue girl using her freakish abilities to find her brother, but actually stumbles upon him as a powerful death knight. And so, she refuses to fight, her brother's sword running through her as she looks back at all of the memories of her dear, alive brother…

Then, it was as if Lucas had lifted the freeze off of me—I could move again, and now the death knight before me glared in agitation, his hand tightening on the hilt of is sword.

"Minions, come to my aid!" a voice rattled across the grounds, and suddenly a cold whoosh had swept by, taking me by surprise.

Lucas hissed, and then a golden light coming from the chapel caused him to wither.

"You cannot win, Darion! Bring them before the chapel!" Fordring stood before the symbol of Light, looking like a decorated angel as his aura bled gold.

"Stand down, death knights. We've lost. The Light…this place…no hope…"

I could see how overpowering the Light had become—it was magnified through Fordring, and the remaining death knights understood their predicament. The enemy troops did as commanded, Lucas included, as they moved toward their leader named Darion.

Keeping my eyes on my brother, I took my place behind Fordring, being sure I was as close to Lucas as possible. I needed to see him…while I still could.

"Have you learned nothing, boy?" Fordring began. "You have become all that your father fought against! Like that coward Arthas, you allowed yourself to be consumed by the darkness, the hate…feeding upon the misery of those you tortured and killed!" I looked about the battlefield, where the sun was beginning to reveal more atrocities along the ground. Hundreds of undead carcasses littered the holy ground, but the corpses of our men were present as well. "Your master knows what lies beneath the chapel. That is why he dares not show his face! He sent you and your death knights to meet their doom, Darion."

At the announcement, it seemed me and Darion made the same revelation at the same time: what Fordring spoke was truth. At the mention of the death knight's 'master,' I shuddered silently.

Fordring was a scary opponent, and his stunning paladin talents were no contest when Fordring was standing on holy ground. Surely if a Human rogue could understand that, then the Lich King could as well?

"What you are feeling right now is the anguish of a thousand lost souls! Souls that you and your master brought here!" Fordring shook his head, his eyes intensifying. "The Light will tear you apart, Darion!"
"Save your breath, old man. It may be the last you ever draw," threatened Darion in a low growl.

Before Fordring could counter, a loud boom echoed from behind Darion's cloaked figure. A pair of images—more like ghosts, for they were translucent—arrived, facing each other.

"My son! My dear, beautiful boy!" The older spirit announced joyously, a smile on his aged face. Confusion and curiosity had me pinned to the strange turn of events—were these images part of Fordring's plan?

The younger spirit returned the radiant smile. "Father, you have returned! You have been gone a long time, father. I thought…"

"Nothing could have kept me from here, Darion," the other insisted, and suddenly I realized the image must have been a memory of Darion's as a boy. "Not from my home and family."

"Father, I wish to join you in the war against the Undead. I want to fight! I can sit idle no longer!"

So this monster before me, commanding the death knight troops, had once been this animated, eager boy? Sadly, it reminded me of Lucas' determination and liveliness. And yet the fate they shared…

"Darion Mograine, you are barely of age to hold a sword, let alone battle the Undead hordes of Lordaeron. I could not bear losing you. Even the thought…"

A parent's anguish. That was something I, too, had grown familiar with.

"If I die, father, I would rather it be on my feet, standing in defiance against the Undead legions! If I die, let me die with you!"

Now that response was familiar as well. The whole scene was eerie and getting uncomfortable, but I couldn't look away.

His father seemed calm as he regarded his child. "My son, there will come a day when you will command The Ashbringer, and with it mete out justice across this land. I have no doubt that when that day finally comes, you will bring pride to our people and that Lordaeron will be a better place because of you."

Well, there sure was a horrific, ironic twist in that story's ending. The large, golden sword pictured with the older spirit was most definitely now in his son's, Darion's, hands. Except now The Ashbringer was corrupted; tainted with darkness and bloodlust.

"But, my son, that day is not today. Do not forget," The man insisted to his child.

It was then that the headaches returned, and in full force. The pressure was nearly enough to cause me to black out instantly, and the reason appeared right before everyone.

The Lich King had arrived, his dark aura like a dense fog across the scene. Everything on the Lich was massive, his armor and helmet dark and looking as if they were carved from ice. And his eyes glowed like his followers', aflame and set on every being before him.

"Touching…" he announced, his voice familiar as he lifted his arm, palm out. I nearly wanted to duck and cover at the simple movement. "He is mine now." In a flash of black, the Lich King was pulling the vision away, making it disappear. Everything around me was beginning to become too much—my knees shook, vision blurry as I tried to step further back.

Darion's fuzzy figure stood now, and even with his back to me I could see his anguish. A glowing Ashbringer was pointing at the Lich King, who stood tall and didn't budge. "You…betrayed me. You betrayed us all. Monster!" His aura pulsated, but it was no match against his master's. "Face the might of Mograine!" he boomed, his body flashing and arriving in front of the Lich King to attack. Another rumble erupted, and with a single swing, the Lich King sent Darion flying back, to the left of our remaining troops.

It was like a wave of darkness followed through the ranks after the attack. To the others around me, perhaps it was a burning sensation. To me, it was a pulse that made my barrier crack.
Everything went black for a split moment, and the next frame, I was looking in the Lich King's point of view.

"Pathetic."

"You're a damned monster, Arthas!" At the mention of his name, the king's aura seemed to darken. Was that delight that I felt? Getting under Fordring's old, wrinkled skin was quite refreshing.

"You were right, Fordring," the dark, strained voice began. "I did send them to die. But yours…" The Lich King's bloodlust was relishing every moment. I tired pulling away, but the Lich King was rock solid, and I couldn't force my way out of his head.

I tried to remain silent. If the Lich King realized I was currently slipping in to his thoughts and sight, I wouldn't have a body to return to, for he would surely destroy me.

"How simple it was to draw the great Tirion out of hiding. You've left yourself exposed, paladin. Nothing will save you."

"Attack! Apocalypse!"

Everyone lunged for the Lich King at once—death knights and crusaders alike. But the monster swatted the flurry away as easily as he had Darion. I felt the massive arm pulsate with power at the action, a cold spark running up his arm and freezing my mind.

The move had been successful. Even Fordring himself had been knocked to his knees, but he didn't swoon.

"Tirion!"

Darion's voice. From the corner of the Lich King's eyes, I could see Darion use his last bit of strength to stand and toss his treasured sword to Fordring.

Darion collapsed yet again, but Fordring stood now, holding the Ashbringer as easily as if he owned it.

It was as if the sword itself had an aura that was now melding in Tirion's hands. The sword glistened gold yet again, its power surging forth and combining with Fordring's own power.

The energy surge had the Lich King weary—a small amount of agitation ran down my spine.

Fordring felt the increase, the fury like a swirl of energy around him. "Arthas!"

The Lich King took a step back as the images I was witnessing began to darken and fade. "What is this?"

It was as if I was forced out of his sub-consciousness.

"Your end."

I forced my own self upright, determined to watch the happenings before me. I felt Fordring's power compared to the Lich King's. This could be it…Fordring could be the hero to end the suffering of the living.

Fordring advanced toward his enemy, and from my position on the ground, I watched the Lich King get knocked back by the force of a blow.

"Impossible," the Lich growled.

Without any more options, the king stepped back. "This is not over!" he declared, his body disappearing before Fordring could end the fight properly. "When we next meet, it won't be on holy ground, paladin."

He was gone. When Fordring was sure of it, he turned resolutely, walking to Darion's laying form. Frustrated, I tried getting up too fast—my equilibrium was in need of adjustment, and golden stars seemed to streak across my line of vision.

By now, death knights and other survivors were stirring back into consciousness, and Fordring was kneeling beside Darion Mograine, assisting his old enemy to his feet. "Rise, Darion, and listen…we have all been witnesses to a terrible tragedy. The blood of good men has been shed upon this soil." By now, Darion and Fordring were both on their feet, giving the others around them an opportunity to stand as well. "Honorable knights, slain defending their lives…our lives! And while such things can never be forgotten, we must remain vigilant in our cause! The Lich King must answer for what he has done, and must not be allowed to cause further destruction in the world! I make a promise to you, brothers and sisters: the Lich King will be defeated!" Fordring walked in circles, addressing everyone equally as if we weren't just clawing at each other's throats. "On this day, I call for a union. The Argent Dawn and the Order of the Silver Hand will come together as one. We will succeed where so many of us failed! We will take the fight to Arthas, and we will tear down the walls of Icecrown!" Fordring's bulky hand was raised, fingers curled into a fist as he looked up in anger. "The Argent Crusade comes for you, Arthas!"

His words seemed to echo onwards into the sky, now colored a blue-gray as the sun finished rising. In eagerness I scanned the faces behind Mograine, almost instantly finding Lucas in the crowd. His eyes looked directly at me, and something within me knew that even amidst all of the chaos and tragedy surrounding his new "life"—he could recognize me again. And if he could that…the rest of 'us' could be re-established.

Darion nodded, his hand resting on Fordring's shoulder gear. "So too do the Knights of the Ebon Blade. Although our kind has no place in your world, we will fight to bring an end to the Lich King. This I vow."

Fordring nodded. "There is much to be done."

Tirion and Fordring set off to start clean-up and rebuilding. Eventually, Darion's death knights would have to return to their base, and Fordring to Icecrown—but this time, with a newly acquired alliance.

Before I could move for my brother, an unscathed Taellor had found me, relief painting his face. "You're alive," he breathed.

"Of course," I muttered, distracted by my brother's movement ahead of us. The Night Elf followed my gaze and exhaled.

"Your brother?"

"Mhm…"

Taellor patted my shoulder affectionately. "Good luck, Grace."

With an anxiety I couldn't fathom I stepped toward my brother. His pale skin and blue eyes were a definite change—but in his face and posture I still found the Fulstorm blood coursing.

Then, I was before him yet again, except this time, his sword wasn't drawn. It was me and Lucas, and it seemed like so much had happened and yet nothing had changed.

I wetted my lips, still dry and cracked despite the new humidity. "Lucas," I breathed.

His face had become harder to read, but finally, his head bowed in recognition. "Grace. Little sister."

Finally I could breathe. With a small cry of relief mixed with agony, I rushed to my brother and buried my face into his armor as I hugged him.

I hadn't expected Lucas the death knight to snap back into his living self's personality—but the hesitance and distance as he begrudgingly hugged his sister back was definitely going to take some getting used to. "I was scared, Lucas," I mumbled, although his cold armor muffled the sound. "I thought you…"

"Were dead?" he clipped. Lucas' voice was now so dark and void of the melodic lilt he once had. "Dead would be a blessing."

I pulled away, wincing slightly between my ribs and Lucas' scathing remark. "Lucas…" The words I could say were all jumbled up, and the anxiety and fear were crawling up my spine yet again. No one said this was easy. "Lucas, I thought I'd never see you again."

He said nothing. What else could I do?

"I know it's difficult, Lucas," I whispered, taking a small step closer. "It's very difficult. And I don't know exactly what you've gone through, or what has brought you here, but I know what the Lich King is capable of. And I know it's no coincidence that we have found each other here. I also know that you are my brother, Lucas, and nothing changes that. Not death or even undeath."

"I'm an abomination," he whispered, though harshness had been replaced with sadness. "I turned from my people, my family…"

"You're free now, Lucas," I uttered, managing a small smile as tears crawled down my soiled cheeks. "You and the others have been freed, and now you have the chance of redemption. The death knights are a sign of hope within or darkness. With your cooperation, the crusade will slay the Lich King!"

Lucas nodded. "This…is what gives me…purpose."

I held back a cry. It was a start.

"Grace," he began coolly. "Why aren't you afraid?"

"Afraid?" I repeated softly. "Of you?"

"Of this…monster I've become."

"You're not a monster. There are worse things to fear. I have seen my fair share of monsters."

I told the story of how I had sworn to find him, of how determined I was. I explained my abilities to Lucas as well, who was suddenly very interested. The two of us wound up in the chapel, and when I finished, Lucas nodded. "It appears…you have your own share of burdens."

"I don't know exactly what you've been through," I repeated from before, "but I know how it feels to teeter between two sides of a war."

My brother's hand grabbed my own, though he grimaced as if the touch was upsetting. "Thank you."

I knew it was too soon for Lucas to share his own story and experiences, too painful. But I stayed there with him. And I could wait.

We returned to the mess outside, helping with the rest of clean up.

"Grace!"

I turned, smiling instantly as Taellor arrived yet again. With open arms I embraced my friend. When I pulled away from my fellow rogue, I motioned to him. "Lucas, this is Taellor, a friend. Taellor, my brother Lucas."

"Grace loves you very much. She's been to Northrend and back for you."

"I'm very…blessed."

Taellor smiled. "Fordring plans on departing around suppertime, Grace. Portal to the Argent Vanguard."

I nodded. As Taellor left to give us space, I looked expectantly at Lucas. "I suppose we part ways soon."

"I must help Darion. It's all I'm good for now."

Shaking my head, I tried not to let my eyes fall on the carnage surrounding me. "It feels like I need another year to catch up with you."

"Death knights!"

"I'm sure you'll see me around. Fordring and Mograine are now going to be very strong allies."

"Lucas," I began, glancing behind my brother's shoulder to be sure of our privacy, "there's something I should tell you. Before you go…"

If possible, Lucas stiffened even more. He must have easily read the shift in my aura as I tried to figure out how to best explain it.

"Dennis…died," I told Lucas, who exhaled slowly as he took the news. "About a month ago."

The blue glow in his eyes seemed to dim as I tried to keep in my tears. "Do you know what happened?" he asked softly.

Through the calm question, I still heard a strain of distress. Perhaps this wasn't the proper time to tell Lucas about Dennis' end, with his turn of events. He was very confused about his ability to 'live'—to feel and love. But he had to know, and telling him later just didn't seem appropriate.

Telling Lucas was, actually, a bit of a selfish move. Finally someone else would understand the ordeal and suffering I had to experience with my loss. "I was there," I choked, the tears coming once again. It seemed I would always lose my sinister rogue façade around my brother, regardless of what he was. It felt like I was back at the moment after Dennis died, and how grueling the feelings were.

Grimacing, Lucas hesitated before pulling me over for a hug. "Gracie…"

"I was there to rescue him and two others," I explained. "We had nearly made it. The Undead hadn't detected us…and then an entire troop of them found us.

"I should have stayed," I growled. "I should have died, Lucas. Dennis wouldn't have any of it. He gave me a hearth stone…shielded me with a barrier. I returned safely…the others didn't."

"Ssh." Lucas sighed, momentarily making me question if the Undead needed to breathe. He finally pulled away to look at me. "I'm very…proud of him. Dennis was a brother. He protected our little sister." His eyes drifted off my face, sitting on something behind my shoulder as his stone façade took over again. "From my own kind."

"You're afraid he's undead," I mentioned softly.

"It concerns me."

"Dennis wouldn't allow that," I insisted.

"That's because he's better than me."

"Lucas," I chided, barely able to see him through blurry vision. "I'm begging you as your sister…"

"Your own brother-"

"I love you!" I stated. Lucas clipped his mouth shut, caught off guard, as his eyes finally looked at me.

"Grace, you know I love you."

"Lieutenant Fulstorm."

I forced a smile through tears as Lucas looked back at his superior and quickly gave me a goodbye hug. "Please fight back, Lucas," I whispered as Fordring and Mograine approached us. "Dennis would want you to look at the good parts of…life. Be careful…for Dennis and me. And mom and Matthew."

At the mention of his family, Lucas inhaled carefully. "I'm always careful," he responded, mustering a small smile.

"You ready, lieutenant?" Mograine asked, his voice holding a little less callous than before.

"Yes, sir."

Fordring smiled. "Lieutenant Fordring. Welcome back to the fight."

"Highlord Fordring was just complimenting you on your abilities, lieutenant," Darion explained.

Highlord? Fordring was becoming a vital piece to our war, and there I was standing with him and the general of the death knights with my brother.

"Well, you may have one of my best lieutenants, but I have the next best thing!" Fordring nudged my shoulder playfully, the first act of lightheartedness I had witnessed.

The blood was rising to my cheeks. "Highlord General, I don't think I-"

"Just call me Fordring, Grace."

"General Mograine, this is my sister, Grace," Lucas introduced. Mograine bowed respectfully.

"Greetings."

I bowed as well, my insignificance very obvious as the decorated heroes towered over my silly pin and pair of daggers.

"I'd hate to cut the pleasantries short, Tirion, but my knights have much to do in preparation," Mograine mentioned. His living counterpart nodded.

"Of course, Darion. If you ever need any assistance…"

"We shall call upon the help of your crusade. The same goes for your plight."

Fordring nodded once more, his eyes gleaming with hope as Mograine opened a portal leading out of the battleground. "Until next we meet, friend."

"Until then."

Lucas bowed. "Stay alive out there, Grace." And with that, the death knights had vanished. I sighed, watching as the portal dissipated into the air.

"You shall be reunited in due time," my general insisted.

"If I'm not dead," I muttered.

"I only need to finalize a couple of things before we return to the battlefront in Northrend. Find Taellor, Ms. Fulstorm. Tell him we depart in roughly an hour."

Quickly I fulfilled my orders. Taellor nodded in approval. "Right on schedule. How are you feeling?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Like I'm floating miles above my body," I answered honestly.

"And the connection to the Lich King?"

"Nothing's come up since he left," I responded.

Taellor paused for a moment, leaning in as he rested his arm on the pew. "And how are you taking your brother's turn-out?

My lips pulled into a grimace. "It's not the best outcome. But it's not the worst. It's just…still a shock. I don't know how to talk to him, what to tell him or my parents…"

"Take each day in stride," Taellor advised. "For both of you."

"Thanks, Taellor," I hummed. "It feels like…I don't know. Like the guilt's starting to finally lift off my shoulders. With Dennis' death, my desertion of everything back home…everything felt completely out of my control. Now everything's finally settling down. Coming into place."

"Just concentrate on the fight ahead, Grace," Taellor recommended.

I nodded. "Thanks, Taellor. For being here with me."

"My pleasure." The Night Elf shrugged it off as he shifted in our pew, pulling a strap when I finally laid my hand on his. Caught slightly off guard, Taellor paused, his eyes shifting to mine in interest.

Maybe I was just tired of Taellor acting like he was watching over me because he was a friend. Taellor's concern was very important—it kept me sane as our group faced the hardships of Northrend. I still can't explain my full motivation—I wanted Taellor to realize my appreciation; slowly I leaned in, being sure I caught Taellor's full attention as I placed a soft kiss on his cheek. The Night Elf's skin was soft and cool, but as I pulled back, his aura warmed. Taellor's dazzling eyes watched me intensely as my face hovered over his shoulder.

"You taught me how to be Human again, Taellor."

"Grace…" Taellor's slender fingers lifted my chin, so that my face was a breath from his.

My mind was panicking again, like it did with Gregor. But this time, I had very little desire to stop anything. My heart must have tripled in tempo—why not Taellor? There was nothing wrong with Taellor. I wanted to be happy again, and Taellor definitely deserved to be happy. And he certainly, at the moment, had my heart's attention.

His lips drew near my own, and I felt an unfamiliar drive that was urging me to close the gap. Taellor's lips lingered a moment, his breath on my neck as he seemed to hesitate in contemplation. Then slowly, he pulled even closer, our mouths not quite connecting but the touch tickling my lips regardless, as if the Night Elf expected me to be the one to pull away.

I quivered with anticipation. Then, at the same time, it seemed like both of us sensed Fordring's gallant aura, and we pulled away just as our superior appeared in the doorway.

"We're running ahead of schedule, Officer Taellor! Assemble those departing for Northrend!"

"Of course, sir." Taellor fumbled to his feet as I tried to ignore the small smirk of amusement on Fordring's lips.

The men left, leaving me to gape at what happened—well, almost.

Me…and Taellor? I pondered over the concept for the time left before departure.

The recent events had allowed me to relax the slightest, and let the chaos surrounding the past roll off my shoulders. Taellor and I worked well together, and more than once he had proved his importance in my life.

I thought I was alone in Northrend, but there was Taellor. And the others. And Zen…though I thought of him often and wished it had panned out in our favor…Zen was on an entirely different continent.

So if I wasn't heading in the right direction, if I didn't really belong here, it was no longer my concern. I was in Northrend on a mission, the rest I could let fate unfold. And if that stupid human rogue belonged alongside me, then fate could put him on the Argent Vanguard's doorstep with a pretty little bow.

I counted on Taellor. He deserved my faith, at least. Even as we readied to depart and open the portal, Taellor found me and made sure I was ready.

My Northrend layers were on once again, and I was already sweating by the time the portal opened. There were about a dozen troops joining our cause; one at a time the soldiers disappeared into the magical doorway. I stepped into it right after Taellor, the strange tingling making it difficult to walk through.

On the other side, the subzero temperature was the first notion to hit me. The wind whistled by like a whoosh as I tried to open my eyes and reorient myself.

All of my senses, including my auras, had to reset. I forced my eyes open; the fort was just up the pathway. The first step or two out of the portal were the strangest as the tingling throughout my body faded and the feeling of earth below my feet returned.

It nearly caused me to fall. I stumbled, but Taellor's rogue reflexes had me back on my feet in no time. Fordring led our return home as Taellor eyed my progress up the slope. "First day on the new pair of feet, Grace?"

I shook my head with a smile. I continued climbing, the place feeling strangely vacant when the auras weren't present.

Taellor and I were nearly at the top when a strange feeling triggered my interest. The auras began to seep their way back into my senses, the intensity growing. But there was a certain aura…

Confused, I concentrated on the one unexpected feeling—and when I realized what the familiarity was, I slipped yet again, nearly sliding back down except for Taellor's death grip on my shoulder pads. "Grace? Are you listening to me?"

My eyes refused to blink. "That's impossible," I declared, too cautious to get up. But still, no one had an aura like his; suddenly, my desire to reach the base heightened out of disbelief.

Taellor finally managed to help me up, and once I was situated, he too was looking up at what caused my distress.

I took another few steps, the owner of the aura now visible. It was a dream. It had to be. Because there was no possible reasoning or explanation as to why he would be standing there, at my base, if he was at Stormwind. And he couldn't be looking down expectantly, as if he was supposed to be here to greet me at this very moment.