Hello Lovely Readers =]

You all make my day! So here it is! Next chap! And hopefully soon a bonus chapter I'm working on to soothe the never ending fight scenes =]

Random fact of my story for this chapter: Grace's last name was purposely picked. Grace Fulstorm = Graceful Storm. Cheers!

Book Thirteen, Part Two

Champion

We didn't even have time for a sigh of relief. Our druid and paladins provided us with the buffs that they could muster, the healers helped our damage inflictors recuperate. The male paladin, a Draenei who didn't seem quite as drained as the rest of us, approached me and silently covered my bloody wound with a hand. "Don't waste your m-"

"I won't let you bleed out on us," the Draenei answered in perfect common. I nodded, noting that the gate was beginning to grind open just as the paladin's warm touch dissipated.

"Well fought!" Tirion boomed with almost a jovial tone. "Your next challenge comes from the Crusade's own ranks. You will be tested against their considerable prowess."

"The next combatant is second to none in her passion for upholding the Light. I give you…Argent Confessor Paletress!" another voice announced.

There was a roar of excitement from the crowd as a blonde haired woman appeared out of the gate, accompanied by three other Argent soldiers in their usual tabards. The one I, too, had in my luggage.

Confessor?

She looked intimidating enough, and the others flanking her gave her an aura of power and importance. "Thank you, good herald. Your words are too kind. May the Light give me strength to provide a worthy challenge." She bowed slightly toward Fordring, who nodded.

"You may begin!"

With a flick of her wrist, Paletress readied her other soldiers. The familiar tabards were so familiar, and the thought of attacking those I had aided in Northrend was disturbing.

First Horde, now crusade members. It was supposed to be a game, and yet I felt like my life was on the line.

No one would be there to cast a protective shield when we fought the Lich King. And this was a real battle. My real blood was now drying dark brown on my leather chest piece.

There was a priestess, a warrior, and a priest—or monk, I presumed, from his strange garb, and they all charged, and axe glinting in the sun as it raised above the enemy's head and charged toward our group.

The Dwarf paladin immediately took ownership of the other warrior. Two axes were locked together, but our Dwarf faltered, his footing slipping as he barely dodged a clean swipe to his head. "Someone needs to distract that monk!"

"I've got the girl," the druid purred, instantly morphing into her feline form and pawing toward the younger female.

"That's not polite!" the Confessor berated in her sweet voice. Instantly her hand was out, a flash of light streaking from her palm and striking the druid's fur in starbursts. The cat's legs immediately went rigid, then she backed up one, two, three steps, and I realized her eyes were void. I glanced back at the priestess, who wouldn't take her gaze off of the druid before her.

All of the others must have either been preoccupied with the other two, or just as enchanted as I was. Fear of the unknown had me locked in place, watching.

Our druid was sprinting again, though now it wasn't toward our enemy. The other Night Elf in our group—the hunter—had his mouth agape in shock as the purple claws collided into his protected chest, effectively bowling him over and pinning him to the hardened ground. "Nalia!" he gasped loudly, his bow long forgotten and skittering away.

She growled in response, and in the man's eyes I saw much more than surprise—it was hurt, befuddlement, and betrayal. I realized then that their bond ran deeper than this fight. I should have picked up on the similarities between brother and sister much quicker than I had. Or I would have, say, if there wasn't a huge battle before us.

"It's a mind control," I shouted. "We have to break the priestess' concentration!"

Was everyone else busy elsewhere?

Her claws were stuck in him good, and the hunter wasn't going to lift a finger to hurt his own blood. I began to pace toward the two, my hands on my daggers, until a blur of white whipped by me, its momentum crushing into Nalia. Once the blur settled, I realized it was the hunter's pet, which had come to his owner's aid. The white tiger was considerably smaller than the druid's cat form, and we didn't have much time before the cat fight turned serious. I glanced back at the male Night Elf, who had mustered enough strength to pull himself to a seated position despite his gash wounds. Even so, all he could do was watch a personal nightmare unfold before him.

Up to me. It was all on me now. The two cats had begun to scrap, but the little white warrior had managed to momentarily separate himself from the fierce Nalia.

Clumsily I grabbed my bow, my palms now noticeably sweaty. I didn't even realize I had my arrow at the ready until my arm had pulled back on the string, my muscles straining with the effort.

My posture probably wasn't perfect, and Cole would have probably berated me for it, but I had my shot. The arrow sailed, its approach drowned out by the roars of battle and cheers, until it landed firmly into the priestess' arm.

Her mind control must have immediately broke—I couldn't help but watch to be sure Nalia was no longer an involuntary enemy. But the injury I had inflicted on the girl must have caused a quick jerk reflex in her mind control—Nalia's body flew sideways like a stuffed tiger doll being thrown, her long feline body crushing into the arena wall and sending splintering cracks up the stone.

Nalia's body went limp and fell to the ground, but I knew she wasn't dead as she morphed into her Night Elf form. The impact had knocked her out.

"Someone wake her up!" I barked. Thank the Light that the Draenei shaman was willing—he rushed over to Nalia's motionless body.

"Clever girl."

My jaw clenched. I couldn't avoid the priestess any longer. I had most definitely caught her attention now. With my hands gripping my daggers I watched her break off the stem of my arrow. "You think…a little poison…will save you?"

"Maybe not me," I growled.

"Maybe not," she conceded, hurling a ball of energy right toward me.

The brightness made me squint, my body subconsciously bracing for impact, when I was knocked over into the ground. After recognizing that I was still alive amongst cheers of a crowd, I opened my eyes to see Zen on top of me. It was his shoulder that had tackled me out of harm's way. "Do you have a death wish?" he growled. But I couldn't answer; already we were both sprawling back to our feet.

"How chivalrous of you to protect her, rogue," the priestess cooed. "But how do you protect her from yourself?"

"No-" I reached for Zen, but the attack hit dead-on. Zen couldn't even fathom dodging in time; when the blast arrived, he went rigid and pale. "Zen!" I called out too late, and when my arm finally made it to grasp his arm, I was stopped with a good backhand to the jaw.

Tears were immediately swelling in my eyes due to the brute force of the hit, and I had to step back to keep my footing as my mind replayed what had just happened. Zen had hit me.

Then his weapons were drawn, and I found myself torn between the dangerous proximity of his glittering blades and the vacancy of his green eyes. He attacked first, his blades trying to slice me open. I parried successfully the first time, our crowd growling louder at the turn of events. I ducked as another precarious swipe grew too close. "Somebody attack her!" I yelled, blocking attack after attack. "I need some sort of damage on her, the shaman or the mage or someone!"

Zen's daggers finally locked onto my own, the stalemate of all four blades a breath away from my face, my arms shaking from the weight. Thankfully, the others had pulled out of their stupors to listen to my order, the mage conjuring something in her hands.

I couldn't really be angry over the Night Elf hunter's hesitancy to Nalia's attack. What kind of person could intentionally harm the one they love?

Our stalemate broke, the sudden weightlessness on my daggers causing me to lurch forward. Had I lost my concentration in those moments, letting Zen gain control? For a moment my eyes snapped shut, preparing for the searing pain that would rip through my abdomen now that I left my whole body open. Death by Zen's dagger, now there was one I didn't expect.

Maybe it was the hush of the crowd, or the fact that I was still alive, but my eyes opened and relief flushed through my body as Zen's familiar, lively green eyes now filled with concern as he helped me keep my balance on my two feet. "Grace-"

"I'm okay," I breathed.

"Foolish!"

A blast of Light distracted Zen and me, the wave of gold zipping through the battlefield and even causing my hair to sway until it struck the priestess' target.

The Dwarf mage never had a chance as the blow casted her backwards. Her cloth armor was no match against a full-on magical blast, and a protective shield had to blanket the mage from further injury. "…Champion of Ironforge is finished with the competition!"

Our gnome tank must have successfully finished off the monk, because now he arrived to help out with the priestess, who could barely dodge the large axe and ended up taking a heavy blow from a lightning bolt courtesy of our shaman. The priestess staggered backward in surprise, her clothes now seared and charred as her skin reddened from flash burns. Mercifully, our little Gnome tank bashed his shield into the girl's thorax, a resounding crack muffling her scream of pain. Finally, a bubble surrounded our enemy, and immediately I zoned in on the remaining warrior.

This fight should have been easy until the Confessor, but we were tired and losing focus. And losing fighters.

"Nalia, Champion of Darnassus, has been disqualified for being unable to fight."

Damn.

But there were still enough of us, and the warrior didn't have much of a chance against the damage we could muster. Finally, we could fight Paletress. She approached briskly, her back perfectly straight as she reached out with one hand. "Even the good have dark moments…"

"This lass is mine," the Dwarf paladin announced, taking two burly steps toward Paletress.

"Wait-"

A shaman bolt hurled toward Paletress, but I watched in awe as it reflected off an invisible shield protecting her.

I didn't see anything more. Everything went black, and when the curtain of darkness lifted, I was in an open field. I didn't have time to wonder how I'd gotten here—the smell and nearly unbearable aura of rotten corpses filled my senses.

Undead.

My body was shaking again, and the hand gripping my arm tightened in reassurance as I tilted my chin. Dennis' usually soft features were distorted with concern. "No, no," I said under my breath. I had no control over what I said or did-a far too familiar feeling nowadays—but this was a different feeling than the crossovers of the Lich King. This was a memory, the one single memory of my entire life that I never, ever wanted to relive. My eyes now caught site of the lake the Undead army would soon appear around, and numbly I wished I would just look over to Dennis, over every feature of his face, and hold him and beg him because this time I knew what would happen, I knew how this ended. "What do you have of theirs? What document?" My voice was unusually high in pitch.

"How did you know about…"

Dennis' aura stiffened as he, too, sensed the danger ahead. If I could just touch his face, grab his hand…

"There's an army of them. They have orders to kill us."

Edgar appeared in my line of sight, unable to hide his amusement. "The Scourge?"

"They're moving."

Impending doom had me trembling and scared, and I couldn't even gather the courage to move toward my daggers.

"Three Humans versus Eighty Undead," Edgar growled. "How do you like those odds?"

I watched Dennis, whose expression never faltered. He had known long before now what he was to do. I hated it. "How about two versus eighty?"

The yellowed envelop was now in Dennis' hands. I tried to scream, I wanted to take the stupid parchment and throw it into the damn lake.

"I always wanted to go down in a blaze of glory."

Everything happened fast, faster than I remembered. Before I knew it, I had again shoved the envelope back into Dennis' possession, rejecting his ideas of kindness and chivalry. "I'm not leaving." I couldn't breathe. "If you go, I go."

Moments blurred by until Dennis completely faced me. "You need to trust me. You're not going to die here…"

Make it stop.

All of the emotions, every little detail and color was the exact same. Take me back to the fight. I would have rather endured a thousand of Visceri's blades than see this again.

"Don't do this. Don't make me," I begged. Dennis' hands had been gripping my arms to hold me up on my feet, but now he gently cupped my cheek. The pattern he had traced numerous times before now he marked on my forehead, and then his kiss, cool against my hot skin as Dennis tried not to show his own fear.

My hearthstone. I was fumbling for it as the enemy descended. "We'll hold them off as long as possible…" Dennis' voice drifted in and out of my memory. His face had never left my memory; it was calm and collected as it had always been in my recollections. "No regrets, Grace." Dennis turned away, my heart wrenching a second time.

My hand was burning. There was a flash of green light, and I could no longer see my best friend.

I was still shaking when the rustle of the crowd came back to my ears. Carefully, my eyes fluttered open, and it took me a couple of deliberate blinks to realize I was now curled up on the battleground, the dirt mottled on my cheek due to my tears. Once I recalled where I was, I lifted my face and immediately looked around.

My heart rate was still pulsing through my temples, and I felt like I was having a panic attack with the way I couldn't catch my breath. Slews of words were coming from the bystanders, but I couldn't recognize if it was encouragement or slander.

I had almost expected to see Dennis amongst us, but as I apprehensively looked around I saw the Confessor, her hand still raised, and some of the others.

One of our healers—the Draenei paladin—was trying to stir awake our miniature Gnome tank, who seemed to be rolling side to side on his back as he patted down an imaginary fire. The hunter's feline was pawing at its owner, who was screaming as he experienced his own old memory. The horrible image made me want to grit my teeth; but the tiger settled beside the Night Elf, his snout occasionally nudging his master. Our shaman was badly burned on one side of his robes, but he was alive and stirring awake as I had. Paletress, thankfully, was preoccupied with our Dwarf tank, who was surprisingly awake and very aware of the goings-on.

And Zen. Weakly, and with a cough I had procured sometime during the fight, I slithered on my belly toward his body. Zen was lying on his stomach, but his face was turned toward me as I gently shook his shoulder. My voice was dry and cracked as I called out his name.

"M..m-" Zen muttered random sounds in his sleep, his body and face contorted in fear. Seeing Zen so vulnerable was frustrating me, my body ready to shut off and break down. I was a blink away from losing it, my head pounding and distinctly reminding me of the Lich King's crossovers; but Zen's eyes finally snapped open, and all I could do was draw back as he bolted upright and shuffled backwards.

"Zen, it's okay," I said firmly. I wanted to be soft and soothing, but I needed Zen here on the battlefield. After a few breaths, Zen seemed more aware and I finally picked myself up, minding that I still had my daggers at my side.

"Thank the Light!" Our Draenei healer hollered. "I was thinkin' I'd have to jump in!"

The Gnome warrior was still incapacitated, but our Dwarf was taking on Paletress single-handedly. I did a mental count of our group and paused, perplexed.

"We lost our priest healer," the Draenei announced. "He tried to help the shaman when his lightning bolt backfired…the priest got too close…"

Zen kicked the charred dirt surrounding us, perhaps in agitation. "Holy fire," he acknowledged. I cursed. "We're getting too tired. We have to end this. It can't be direct, we have to sneak and distract…"

I nodded at Zen's words. "Vanishing powder?"

Zen looked me over. "How much do you have?"

"A couple handfuls."

He nodded, lips tightening. "I have some as well. We'll use it…you have a natural talent for hiding your aura. I'll distract her…appear in front. You shoot from the back."

Parts of his plan I doubted. Like whether I was more adept at sneaking around undetected. Or like how well the plan would work.

Curtly, I nodded anyway, noticing that Zen had meanwhile glanced at our lone healer, who nodded in understanding. "Okay, we'll get a little closer and use the powder."

Zen and I broke out into a jog that must have looked like an attempt at suicide as we neared the priestess. She finally caught wind of our approach, her nearly evil grin spreading. "A challenge, perhaps?" she asked, a ball of light forming in her hand as she knocked our Dwarf over.

I didn't need a signal from Zen. I merely tilted my forehead forward, concentrating on the enemy and pushing the thoughts of Zen being in danger away. We both released our powder, the explosion creating an instant smoke that covered nearly half of the battleground. And if Paletress couldn't see, she couldn't hit her target.

It was second nature to conceal my aura, but I only had moments to maneuver behind the confessor before the smog would lift and blow my cover.

Just as I made it to my position, Paletress spotted Zen, who had appeared an arm's length away from her. "That's the best Stormwind has to offer?" she asked, her staff reeling back to deliver a lethal blow.

"Quick to judge," Zen snarled with a scowl.

I struck once I had a good visual, my blade sinking too easily into her back with a chilling sound of ripping flesh and a cry of shock. Quickly I withdrew my dagger and back peddled; Paletress attempted to turn, perhaps to punish me, but Zen's dagger slashed out, a clean cut appearing across her upper arm. Paletress hissed, the pain disorienting her and causing a moment's hesitation as she decided on whom to lash out against.

She took too long to decide. Before the tank, Zen, or I could move to attack, a streak of arcane magic blew by; only after it was lodged into Paletress' chest did I realize it was an arrow. The magic in its tip made crackling noises, like ice breaking beneath an extreme weight. The particles of magic would burst and cause burns across the priestess' skin.

Our hunter was standing, his lungs noticeably exasperated as he lowered his bow and swayed. But his attempt had proven worthwhile as our enemy collapsed, the medics immediately coming to her aid.

"Confessor Paletress has been defeated!"

The crowd roared. Even members of the Horde seemed impressed. For once, I simply breathed and felt the rush of excitement and relief. And pride.

Cheers began to settle as Fordring raised his hand, a grin spreading across his cheeks. "Well done. You have proven yourself today-"

Someone grabbed Fordring's arm, his blue armor mixing with the rest of the blues in the seats. Now that I didn't have to focus on Paletress, I caught the strange sensation as well. Something felt wrong, and this man seemed to feel the same.

The hair on my neck stood on end, my head filling with a painful pressure. In a moment though, the uneasiness had withered—my fear had not.

"What's that, up near the rafters?" the man at Fordring's side asked loudly.

Thousands of pairs of eyes now followed his pointed finger, and it was then that I spotted the reason for my pounding headache.

"You spoiled my entrance, rat." The Undead being hopped down from his hiding spot, his bones crunching together as he landed right inside the arena battleground.

Those of us left in the arena took steps back, and the crowd that had been cheering moments ago now screamed in panic. Armored in completely black, except his red pauldrons that looked like the eyes of evil, I knew this Undead being could belong to no one other than the Lich King.

And he could prove his loyalty, too. With a simple raise of his hand he casted a dark spell; it sailed through the arena and crashed into the man that revealed him. The victim was hit with a dark shadow, his body first crushing into the wall behind him and then throttling forward to topple off the banister and land into our arena, motionless.

More screams. Zen somehow had made it to me, and now his hand grabbed mine and attempted to pull me back behind him.

"What is the meaning of this?" growled Fordring, his hands gripping the railing so firmly I was sure the stone would merely disintegrate.

"Did you honestly think that an agent of the Lich King would be bested on the field of your little tournament." The death knight raised his ebon blade, slinging it over his shoulder. "I've come to finish my task. This farce ends here!"

Confusion clouded my mind. How could he just waltz into a tournament ground…

King Varian Wrynn took a step forward, nearly leaning his whole body over the banister as he looked us over. "Don't just stand there; kill him!"

We exchanged quick glances, and in one moment we all agreed with a nod. Battle on.

I took a step forward, the Dwarf tank seemingly fully recharged as he sauntered over to the death knight. "This should be fun," the knight hissed. A black starburst was forming at his hands, and before we could stop his cast, it erupted. "Meet my new friend."

He had raised a ghoul with his spell; the disturbing part being that the ghoul had just been alive moments ago, at Fordring's side before he had been murdered.

Our hunter was the first to react; from his pack he took out a trap that he laid out carefully even as the ghoul moved for him. It was a success; the ghoul sauntered over to the trap and was immediately caught in a block of ice.

"We don't have much time before that wears…" The hunter announced.

Our shaman was throwing mana totems, and he too was preparing to help the healing of the group; but even more so since our lone healer was a paladin and could use the Light to our advantage in the fight. He casted a simple consecration that the knight didn't like at all.

But it did, however, distract the Undead well. Having a paladin tank and supplemental damage was definitely gnawing on the knight's thin patience. The enemy casted a green, nasty looking spell that seemed to settle around our Dwarf paladin like a cloud of poison. Carefully I stepped away from it, minding the sickly look on the Dwarf's face as he stayed put and continued his attacks.

The knight braced himself, bringing his large sword back to deal a lethal blow to our tank when I took the opportunity to slice at his torso. It didn't draw blood, but he certainly noticed my presence now.

Somehow he had subdued the Dwarf, who now looked sickly and frostbitten, even as his axe now frosted along its edges. And Zen…the knight must have shoved him aside for the moment, because the rogue was now recovering from a blow, his gloved hand wiping away a smear of blood near his lip.

For a moment I flashed back to when I was still training as a rogue with Aradar. When we were trying to corner a member of the Defias and Zen arrived to help. And I had been momentarily off my guard and suffered a good smack in the face for it.

Zen had noticed it the first time, and he must have known then that it would continue to be a weakness of mine.

I never enjoyed seeing Zen bleed, and at the moment I was distracted with concerns of how hurt he really was when the knight in front of me completely turned toward me. "Pathetic," he spat, his hand reaching out again and casting another deadly spell.

It felt like an Elek had pinned me against a saronite slab. Breathless, my body was thrown back as I helplessly waited for my landing.

And it came, of course. My spine jarred against the wall that had thus far been very good at catching everyone's falls. Immediately after impact I slumped over, my right arm the only thing keeping me off the ground as I tried to gasp for air.

The force had squeezed my lungs shut, and now they didn't want to breathe for me. Blinking in disbelief, I wrapped my left hand around my abdomen as I forced my lungs to expand. My first inhale was a gasp, followed by a curse because my ribs felt like they were on fire.

Damn.

Some of them were probably broken. And now it was a challenge just to breathe, and I still had a battle to fight.

I stood anyway, wincing the entire way onto my feet, until I managed to straighten my back and again try to approach the last enemy of the battle.

There was a flash of light; it looked like golden flakes as it fell around me and warmed my entire body. The Draenei nodded my way when the light had faded, and at least for now I could bear the pain.

The stupid knight picked the wrong rogue to dismiss. I sneaked back into the battle, noticing that now the tiger was on the knight, his claws and teeth raking for the Undead's feet and making him perform a near-comical foot shuffle.

I didn't even bother with my weapons, I had a better plan; with one preparatory hop I lifted my heavy boot and gave the Knight's back a good, harsh kick that throttled our death knight forward and put him to his knees.

His face landed nose-to nose with the tiger's snout, and now the feline roared loudly. At the same moment, the Dwarf paladin's axe came straight down, gouging the knight in his back and causing dark, coagulated blood to spurt from the Undead's back.

Finally, the caracass' body remained lifeless, lying in its own pool of blood as I relaxed my muscles.

"Thank the Light," the Draenei muttered under his breath in his thick accent.

The Dwarf lifted his hand, tracing the pattern Dennis had gifted me with before. Slurs of foreign chant rolled off his tongue, and finally he dislodged his weapon from the body.

I looked over to Zen, who now gazed fixedly at me, the right side of his face decorated with a number of small scratches that left smears of blood and a bruised cheekbone.

Our audience was still quiet, maybe due to the shock and disbelief of the entire event. I made a step toward Zen, but a blue light arriving from above us stopped me mid-step. Fear caused my stomach to lurch into my throat; I was convinced that I was seeing what was in my mind, that the Lich King had somehow forced himself into my thoughts and reality.

But the others were now stepping back, too, watching as the dark beams concentrated on the dead body in front of us and began to shimmer.

"What the hell," Zen muttered.

The Draenei paladin was furious. "By the Light, Dwarf, what kind of twisted prayer were you-"

"It was a simple prayer seal…"

"This wasn't part of my theoretical equation; my statistics weren't prepared for this kind of…" The Gnome warrior trailed off, his attention now focused on the corpse that was hovering above us all.

This…wasn't good.

Then the dead body lifted its head, eyes glowing. "My rotting flesh was just getting in the way…" it growled, hands balling into boney fists.

The skeleton of the knight now lowered to the ground, and in shock our group watched as he picked up his runeblade, the weapon glowing, too, at its owner's touch.

"What are you waiting for? Finish him!"

The Dwarf paladin gripped his axe furiously, his shoulders tense as he prepared to charge. "Does anythin' belongin' t' the Lich King stay dead?"

All of us must have made a move toward the body of bones, but his hand now went out in warning. "Not so fast!" he howled, throwing his spell into the earth below us.

More ghouls erupted from the dirt, their limbs breaking the surface as they climbed out to reveal rotten, torn flesh and distorted faces. This time, there were many; twenty or more, and all of them reaching for our group. One of the zombies clawed at the tiger in our group, but the feline was too quick, his paw eviscerating an already lifeless enemy's abdomen.

I was quickly outnumbered by three of them. They weren't difficult to take down, but the sheer number was keeping us away from our goal of killing the knight responsible. "Tick, tick, tick! Time is of the essence!" the Undead hissed.

The Dwarf paladin was short and stout, but his blasts of Light were locatable as he hollered toward the Gnome to attack the Undead death knight. "I've got these," he growled, throwing down another consecration.

I had managed to take two down, and the hunter had resorted to melee swings as he was flooded by a couple more ghouls. Even Zen couldn't shake them long enough to catch his breath. The shaman was casting chain heals and meanwhile trying to take the ghouls down.

"Boom!" the death knight cackled, even as he fought the little Gnome tank.

My dagger was moments away from killing my last target for good when the ghoul exploded into pieces, his limbs flying separate ways as blood, tissue, poison, and magic erupted from the body and spattered onto my armor and face.

Whatever magic had caused the blast had hit me in a wave, my skin on fire where it had contacted part of the ghoul's leftovers. It hurt worse where my old scar was, above my collarbone; almost as if I was reliving the turnover process.

I screamed, my eyes forced closed as the magic ate away at my skin. My gloves tried to scratch away at my neck and face, but it wouldn't quell the pain. Blood from the ghoul was now smeared everywhere on my body, and the magic seemed to burrow into my skin with every move.

"Stay put." The shaman threw a heal my way, the pain only subsiding enough that I could stay on my two feet. "Draenei, help the girl."

A bigger flash of Light poured over me, and it seemed to neutralize the burning, though the damage I had already endured still throbbed. But I opened my eyes, not bothering to rub the tears off my face. I was slathered in brown blood anyway.

The Draenei paladin went on to heal the rest of us, who also endured explosions from the enemies they couldn't kill soon enough. Zen was gritting his teeth, his body in a tremor as he fought the pain. Blood was now dripping from the right side of his face, the side that had already been injured.

Our hunter was busy healing his pet, the tiger pawing at his face and sneezing in an effort to help himself. Even though the Gnome warrior was valiantly tanking the knight very well, the enemy had noticed how vulnerable our hunter was. After a good parry toward our tank, the knight charged the hunter and landed a good slice into his side. The hunter, surprised, looked up, and now that I was able, I drew my daggers and moved to help the tank regain the knight. I swiped, landing a few good cuts along bones that oozed pearly liquid. When the knight was irritated enough, he attempted to swing his sword around me and land a blow to my chest—but I maneuvered around it and buried my dagger into the shoulder blade. The bone cracked, and when I twisted, it shattered and fell off of the skeleton.

Without a shoulder blade, the knight couldn't move his arm. The tank landed a few good blows into the ribcage, and I landed a stab into the spine. But the last blow came from the Dwarf, who had casted a dangerous seal of Light that caused the knight to fall over, motionless, a second time.

Argent crusade members were pulling the Night Elf away from danger, his tiger following behind and defensively watching for any more attacks. I cursed. One more person incapacitated in our little party. But at least the knight was down.

"Let's not count our blessings yet," the Draenei grumbled. Sure enough, the familiar blue light arrived yet again, bathing the dead enemy again. And again, he was resurrected; this time, a ghoul, blue and opaque, looked over us, his fingers flexing to show off the new talons he had procured. "I have no need for boness to bessst you!" he hissed, the blue color of his body intensifying.

We were all exhausted to our own bones. The only reason our paladins and others could continue so well was because of mana potions, totems, and heals. And this damn bag of bones wouldn't stay on the ground.

Now, it wasn't even a knight with death knight abilities. Now, as the tank swung his weapon, all the enemy could do was dodge and claw back.

Exhaustion was causing me to lose focus, and frustration had me gripping my blades so hard I felt my pulse rush through my palms.

The dark, hallowed holes where eyes once sat looked at me, a blue glowing arm reaching out for my figure. "I think you've been enough of a nuisance for now," he slithered. From his hand poured a mist-like spell that zoomed toward me and lingered around my body.

The feeling was familiar to being casted a fear spell. Impending doom. I took a step back, but I felt severely weakened and vulnerable.

Before charging me, the ghost casted another spell that tainted the ground around my comrades. The ground below each of them cracked and rotted, and dead limbs sprouted and reached for legs.

The sight was gruesome, as skeleton arms locked everyone into place and wouldn't budge. Bubbling ooze exploded from the ground, sputtering and hissing as it made contact with live body parts.

Now he did charge, ignoring the anchored tank and others. My mind wanted my body to move, but I couldn't, even my daggers were useless as an outstretched claw connected with my cheekbone.

I felt the claws rip into my skin, the pain immediate as blood slipped down my face. With a muffled scream I fell to the dirt, one arm pitifully attempting to catch my fall.

"Grace, move!"

The ghost was above me in a flash, his mass pushing past a couple of others.

"She can't, it's a death mark!"

My cheek felt ready to fall off, my body fatigued times ten after this mark. Lightheadedness had me simply laying there on my side, literally helpless to save myself. Suddenly, I was very aware of the breath in my lungs, and how the air moved in and out as my heart rate slowed.

The ghost drew his talons back once again, his body floating practically above me. No. He swooped, but I had managed to roll away unscathed. I wanted to holler—it hurt even to move—but my senses were damaged. My sense of pain seemed fully intact though; my joints felt like they were on fire. But at least I was alive for the moment. I was quite sure a splash of Argent heals would bring me back from death.

His body was a film, clouding the image of the ground with swirls of mystifying blue. My eyes were glued to the strange view until a familiar voice cut through the ghoul's howls. "Finish him off!" Zen was bloody. Everyone was bloody. I was tired.

My dagger was still in my hand, miraculously, and I had to use my entire reserve of willpower to not drop it. With a shaky hand I raised my weapon and drove it into the ghost of the knight's back. It screeched in agitation, claws again flailing to land a blow to my open chest as it tried to stand. Everyone else was unable to escape their ties, and the paladin was trying to throw protective auras and heals. I felt the warmth of Light, but it didn't seem to help at all.

The shaman was trying to cast a spell toward the knight. Zen was slicing at the mangled hands pinning him to his spot, but worry now covered his face.

"You will follow that Night Elf!"

His sharp hands came down again; this time, they sliced into my abdomen, my armor ripping uselessly like it was made of cloth. In shock, I looked down to see more of my own blood spilling from the pair of slice marks. No way…

My free hand lifted to cover the bleeding wound, my off-hand slackened on the only dagger I had left.

An object spun through the air, and it took me a couple of blinks to realize it was Zen's throwing weapon. It embedded into the shoulder of the ghost, who turned his head momentarily toward the distraction.

Grace, your shot…

My arm moved on its own, the dagger plummeting deep into a chest that once held a beating heart. I twisted, the rest of my strength leaving me as the knight finally sauntered back in surprise.

"Finally." The paladin tank threw a hammer of Light that exploded into starbursts as it contacted our enemy. "No! I must not fail…again…"

As soon as he was finished, I felt the seal lift. I could finally cry out in pain, my body slumping into the blood-stained ground. A curse stepped through my lips, and I couldn't even move to wipe the sheet of sweat off my forehead.

Zen made it to me first. He pulled me up gently by the shoulders, resting my head in his lap. "Hold on."

The Draenei arrived, already throwing heals my way. At least now they felt effective. Zen handed me a red potion, and even though it tasted bitter I drank it. I must have blacked out for a moment, because when I opened my eyes I was still lying there, Zen holding my hair out of my eyes. Once I was awake, he smiled. "Hi," I greeted softly.

Zen chuckled. "Can you stand?"

I took one breathe in and out, and then nodded. Zen helped pull me up, and once we were all standing together, a roar of applause erupted so loud I was nearly startled back to the ground.

"Hail the Alliance!"

I looked up, where Fordring, too, was clapping. A bright smile graced his face. Once the audience died down, Fordring could address the remaining six of us. "Congratulations, champions. Through trials both planned and unexpected, you have triumphed. Go now and rest; you've earned it."

Our king nodded in a sort of bow. "You fought well."

Exhaustively, I collected my daggers and we exited the arena with another round of claps. Once Zen helped me to our tent, he went to get some rags, bandages, and water to freshen us up with.

My injuries had been healed, though exhaustion hadn't left. While alone, I found myself motionless, unable to take off my armor. My thoughts of the battle…and of Dennis…held me in place.

"Grace?" I looked up as Zen entered; his body was in bad shape as well, though not as beaten as mine. His right cheek was bloodied, and a bruise had formed along his jaw line to accompany a collection of small scratches. He sat down across from me, setting down his fresh supplies. "Are you okay?"

"I'm just…thinking," I answered softly.

Zen looked me in the eyes, his hand resting on my knee. "You did great, Grace. Really."

"What did you see…in that nightmare?"

"What?"

"Paletress…she said even the good have dark moments. Everyone must have relived their worst moments. What did you see?"

Zen exhaled evenly, his shoulders suddenly very tense. "I was running. Escaping the village again. Leaving my parents behind." My heart ached, knowing I couldn't have helped Zen through those few moments, remembering how contorted his face had been. My hand covered Zen's own.

"I'm sorry."

"And yours?"

My lips tightened so I could keep them from trembling. "I was leaving Dennis behind again."

"Grace…" Zen said no more as he pulled me into his chest and wrapped his arms around me.

The images would never wane from my memories. Zen's arms couldn't protect me from my own thoughts, but he was here now to comfort me. Zen pulled back, his thumb tracing my battle scar on my face that I hoped would disappear within a few days. "You're the strongest female rogue I know."

"I'm the only female rogue you know," I replied. A small smile formed on Zen's lips, and I found myself wanting to kiss Zen. He must have sensed my eagerness, because his aura shifted as his hand gently lowered to rest at the base of my neck, his fingertips softly grazing my skin and causing goose bumps.

"Am I interrupting…?"

Zen drew back, aura darkening as Taellor's face peered into our tent. "Taellor!" I announced, standing and giving him a hug that Zen probably wouldn't approve of.

"I just wanted to stop by and congratulate both of you," he said, pulling away to look me over. "Are you okay, Grace? You took some painful hits."

"I'm much better now. Thanks, Taellor."

"If you need anything, you know where to find me," the elf mentioned.

I smiled. "Of course."

Taellor's lips touched my unaffected cheek, the kiss cool against my skin as his hand rested on my arm. "Get some rest, Grace." As Taellor left, Zen sat down and fussed with the supplies, his aura so frazzled I could have boiled a stew on it. "Zen?"

"He does that to get me riled up," he growled. "He knows. And the worst part is he thinks he won. He made it into your heart first."

"Zen, Taellor's my friend."

"He would prefer something more."

"He kept me alive when I didn't have you."

"Didn't have me?" Zen repeated, now halting his process on the supplies to look accusingly at me. Immediately I regretted my word choice. "You left me."

"I didn't know what else to do," I whispered. "I don't know what else I have to do to convince you. I wanted to be at your side, and only your side, ever since you trained me." I suppressed a chuckle of happiness at the thought. "Hell, ever since that stupid dress-up mission we had together!"

"Our first mission." Zen hid a smile as he remembered the crazy day. I sat back down across from him, wringing out a rag in the water basin before gently using it to pat the blood off of Zen's scathed cheek. The rogue's hand covered my own, his eyes drifting up and down my roughened figure. Finally his lips came in and met mine, the kiss so wonderful and comforting after being under such stress.

[end]

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