Ohhh man, it's been WAAAAY too long since I updated -_-;;;
Time just seems to slip by me now, sorry!
Sooo, as many may guess from this chapter's good ole title, Rogue's Diary is coming to a close! Fear not-I will continue to write on warcraft, and possibly add a sequel to RD, if I get enough feedback.
Also, I'm thinking about doing an open story format where I'll write shorts, one-shots, etc. on different races, classes, etc. I know lots of you think the Horde didn't get much love in this story (can't help I play alliance :P), and I'm sure some would like to see warcraft in the different classes' perspectives too. So let me know if that sounds enticing to anyone. lol!
And obviously, if I haven't stated before, I DO NOT OWN WARCRAFT. That is Blizzard's good fortune. Also, you may see some conversations and dialogue that is found in-game. I don't own those either!
Book Fifteen, Part One
The Lich King
Within the confines of my head, I felt nothing. Nothing for so long. Days, it could have been; I had no way of telling. Then the pounding returned, vibrating throughout my entire head. A heartbeat, a tempo. A clock. Ba-bump.
The chill was expected now. Of course he would take advantage of my helpless state. In my head again.
You walk into my citadel, expecting to withstand. You will pay dearly.
I could feel my pulse increase, the pounding stronger.
"Grace." I still felt paralyzed, but consciousness was starting to pull me back to my Alliance. I knew what he was doing. With blind determination I threw up a mental block, body motionless. "Grace, are you okay?"
Hold on, I wanted to growl. But the bond was dissipating, and once I was completely sure, I opened my eyes. Zen was above me, hands clutching my arms. "I'm okay," I mumbled, blinking the dark spots out of my line of vision. I overestimated the amount of strength needed to sit myself up—the blood drained from my head, world spinning. Maybe I wasn't paralyzed after all.
"You hit that wall pretty hard," Zen explained. "Tzu was convinced you cracked your skull. But he healed you up enough to prevent complications."
"The Blood Elves-"
"We finished it. The fire singed your hair, but Tzu dragged you behind the pillar to keep you safe."
Tzu, I realized as Zen motioned to the owner of the name, was the Draenei priest. "Thanks," I called out genuinely. He nodded.
"So you're okay?" Zen asked. His eyes were too intense. I had to look down at my lap.
"Yes," I insisted.
"You're in…complete control?"
Anger momentarily flashed in my eyes; I knew so because my aura was flaring up. Was I incapable, in Zen's eyes, of handling my own? But Zen was simply looking me over, and the concern in his eyes soothed the flash of rage. "I am now," I answered simply.
He shot me a weary look, but helped me up anyway. "Let's move on. Grace, no more funny business. No more playing hero."
I couldn't find the strength to nod. Both of us knew I couldn't promise something like that, anyway.
Of course we were all battle worn; the edginess even I could detect in everyone's auras, and I wondered momentarily if everyone else could feel the tension in the air.
The soreness reminded me of how much I wanted normalcy. To be through with the suffering. I think of how Dennis would tend to the headache, how Lucas would wink and say I've gone soft.
And then I push the thoughts away. Going soft meant being vulnerable to the Lich King.
"Let's move."
I stood up carefully this time, my legs still getting accustomed to working. Then we were off. The others had said the battle I missed had been easy, but as I left the room full of craters and scorched stone, it was hard to tell.
The headache returned; numbly I acknowledged the thought that it wouldn't be leaving. I had a battle to fight though, and it wasn't going to deter me. Our next battle was against the Blood-Queen, an undead that probably was beautiful during her stage of life. Now a sickly blue set of bat wings sprouted from her back, and her red armor covered skin of the same rotten color.
It was going okay. The fight was brutally energetic, but doable. Then she casted a spell, my heart rising in tempo as goosebumps formed on my skin. A fear cast. Some of us ran awry, others jumped back; I peddled backwards as well, tripping and landing on cold marble as mirages of poisonous spiders crawled up my arms. A shadowy image of a screaming skull, looking like smoke, tried swallowing my face, and I moved out of uncontrollable fear.
When the spell was over, one of our damage warriors had been attacked by her, bitten in the neck. At first it put him into some sort of blood-lust rage, his sword hacking at her and even landing a good slice across her arm. But she smiled instead as the warrior turned his back on her and instead lunged for Zen.
"Yes…feed my precious one! You're mine now!"
His eyes were dilated, I realized; a symptom common in mind control. Too late I noticed - he lunged, his teeth able to catch Zen off guard as they sank into his wrist.
Others were busy now, as the Undead enemy had begun throwing spells and batting others with her staff. Zen managed to push the warrior off with a swift kick into his chest, his body reeling over until Zen drove an elbow into his temple. He toppled to the ground unconscious.
Now Zen turned toward the bite, hands already trembling as I reached him. "Zen."
"Stay back."
"Zen, the bite-"
"Mind controls. I know."
"We don't have time. You have to bite me next."
He looked over. Already the bite's effect was spreading. It was a look mixed of caution and desire. Not the right kind of desire, I noted idly.
"If I bite you…" His voice didn't even sound like Zen's anymore.
"Then maybe the spell will skip you. You won't be mind-controlled." I hoped I was right. I hoped I found the loophole. The warrior had been on our side, albeit murderous until it snapped-maybe if the bloodlust was fulfilled, the mind control could be avoided.
It wouldn't be hard to convince the rogue. He wasn't rational anymore. His fangs wanted blood now; it didn't matter what source he got it from.
I tugged off my right wrist guard and pulled down my glove to show it to Zen. "Do it," I encouraged.
Zen swallowed hard. Then with shaky hands he took hold of my arm and used his fangs to puncture the skin. The sharpness of his teeth caused me to gasp—the pain was more than expected. When he let go, the blood continued to seep from two circular puncture wounds-and the effects were instant—my heart felt like it would blast through my ribcage; and the hunger for blood made me physically thirsty.
"How do you feel?" I articulated to Zen carefully. Zen tightened his fists, eyes still intense and unable to focus on one thing at a time.
"Like I could kill a vampire queen."
I tried to hide my smirk. "Go."
Zen would be fine, I told myself as I winced at my own state now. I didn't give in to the desire of blood and instead backed up shakily and forced myself to sit.
Gregor taught me to withstand this, and I could.
The headache was worse, but I closed my eyes. To say I was vulnerable was an understatement—so when the blackness grew cold, chilling my boiling blood, I was well aware that the Lich King was waiting for me.
Now you will be mine.
Then my eyes snapped open, and I knew too well that he was trying—and succeeding—in controlling me. I didn't remember resisting; I didn't remember even telling my eyes to open.
It hurt to fight back, but I used all of the willpower I had to stop myself from standing. I watched as Zen thrashed at the enemy, blood spilling and pleasing me. My mouth was dry.
I didn't know if my cruelty came from a vampire bite or the Lich King's power. But I felt cold. So distant from what I saw with my eyes.
Kill them.
How long had I been on my feet and walking? When the meaning of his words met my brain, I halted my pace with a strange stagger. No. I won't. Never.
If they don't die, you die.
The dagger, usually so warm and comforting, was foreign in my hand now as it turned around and pointed at my own chest. My hands were shaking terribly, but I must have been resisting enough because I wasn't dead yet.
This isn't how you kill me, I thought.
"But…we were getting along…so well."
The Lich King and I both watched as the Queen fell, one wing slashed to bits and her torso practically sliced through as she collapsed.
Impossible.
The uncontrollable thirst vanished; the Lich King's control subsided to nearly nothing as my hand holding the dagger pulled away from my chest and stabbed it instead into the cobblestone below me. The blade wedged into a crack, the hilt glimmering as I pushed the invader completely out of my head.
I swooned, again lightheaded; but I grabbed my dagger in relief and thanked the Light that I had resisted. Carefully I staggered to the group, momentarily disappointed upon seeing the lifeless body of one of our shadow priests.
I didn't mention my difficulties to Zen. I came here to see through the death of the Lich King, and I would do so. Thus far, I had survived. I couldn't turn back now.
The group travelled on, upwards and upwards. The next room was similar to the rest, with charcoal colored floors and walls. In the center was a huge dragon, a vibrant green; but as we approached I could see the cage surrounding her—keeping her at bay.
Our tank entered first, as he always did. "Heroes!" the dragon spoke—not the strangest event thus far, but one of note worthiness. "I can't hold them off much longer!"
She still was speaking—but now what had my attention were the three zombie-like figures galloping at the tank, hands ready for a nasty spill. "Micah!" I called, and his axe was out of course, but barely in time to hack off a mage's arm. The hunter's feline was now tearing at a different one, and now we had time to react properly.
"I want two healers on us, and the other two on the dragon!" Micah called out. "Stay close, there's more…"
It wasn't a difficult battle, but the numbers of skeletons, abominations, and zombies streaming to battle were insurmountable. The dragon was being healed, thanks to our paladin and priest, and just when it seemed never-ending, her chains broke and she stood up straight.
"I am renewed! Ysera grant me the favor to lay these foul creatures to rest!"
Her skin seemed to shine like emeralds, and then the shimmering became a bright light that exploded into the darkness, pouring forth the blackened crevices and cracks. The light was so harsh I shielded my face—and when I uncovered my eyes, every enemy had disappeared. Disintegrated.
"Let's keep moving," Micah said, wiping his bloodied forehead with his arm. As soon as everyone was healed well enough, we pressed forward.
The pressure in my head was increasing, and as if that wasn't enough of an indication, the aura surrounding us grew thicker, colder, and darker. Everyone knew the battle that mattered was looming ahead.
My heart was constantly pounding now; anxiety never left. We continued our spiral up, until we reached another opening that lead outside. Blue flames illuminated the darkness, casting streaks of light across the group of massive steps. We were much higher up now—the cold air was thinner and harder to breathe.
Even in the darkness I caught sight of the massive creature now flying around our tower; a body of ivory bones that formed a gargantuan dragon that reeked of Undead origin. It shrieked loudly, jaw opened as the blue fire smoldering within its ribcage and eyes brightened.
"It's huge," a female priest gasped.
"Sindragosa," the Dwarf paladin growled.
"You are fools to have come to this place!" the voice boomed. It reverberated throughout the stone, echoing and omnipotent as my hand rested on my dagger. "The icy winds of Northrend will consume your souls!"
The noise was still ringing throughout the walls when the boned dragon's talons hit the stone floor, causing a definite crack as the rumble left me trying to regain balance.
The dragon was already charging, and once its claws were within range it raked across the stairs, barely missing me as I jumped back.
Well, I didn't want to be near her front end. I stepped around to the back of the massive body, a gray wing nearly tackling me to the ground. For the first time I felt nearly useless as my daggers sliced at skeleton bone. It made nicks that I'm sure felt like pin pricks to the mammoth beast.
Zen was now beside me, his daggers slashing away as well. "It's useless," I growled.
"Just keep her occupied." Both of us ducked as her thick tail tried cracking our skulls. "Distract her and watch for her tail and claws."
The tail lashed out again, shifting me to the right away from the body. Then it was like everyone was brought in by magic, toward her ribs, where she began growing and trembling with power. "Everyone move!" Micah hollered.
I was already moving, my legs not my own as I struggled through the chill to evade whatever the dragon had in store. The blast felt like an elek had kicked me square in the back; my breath was momentarily misplaced as my body flew forward, skidding onto the top stair with a definite screech.
My hands had attempted to take most of the floors impact, but I could feel the burn as the right side of my face brushed across the rough stone as well. The feeling of warmth smoothing over my face let me know that I was bleeding.
But I stood up anyway, knowing that our current enemy was equipped with claws and a tail that I currently couldn't see. My daggers had miraculously remained in my hands, despite the scratched up knuckles. I turned quickly, watching as the boned animal shrieked and lunged forward to claw at our retreating figures.
Micah intercepted the aggression easily, but I still found myself worrying—Micah was the mouse being played with by the cat, and those claws were sharpened to kill.
I had just made it back to my spot in the back when a strange white aura spread across the stone floor, immediately chilling me to the bone. My brain was on ice, thoughts useless as they tried signaling my body to move. Movement was delayed, but I could hear the casters on the stairs hollering commands. "Blast her with what you've got! Micah's chilled!"
The bright lights of spells were blinding, but eventually the immobile feeling subsided. My knees unlocked, teeth chattering as I could again move in time to dodge a tail swipe.
"Suffer, mortals, as your pathetic magic betrays you!"
The magic that had momentarily helped Micah seemed to get absorbed and then shot back as dark shadows that launched at our casters. Many hit their mark, sending casters backwards.
"Your incursion ends here! None shall survive!" Her wings beat viciously as she flew upwards so high I only saw the blue glow flickering. It was silent for the longest moment as we walked forward cautiously, looking for any sign of a fight. The paladins and priests were quickly casting heals and buffs. Everything was still silent until the bolts of white whistled to the ground, pounding the stone and splintering dangerously.
"Spread out!"
But already we were spread thin, and only after I had ran to the far left did I realize Zen's body had been engulfed in a block of ice, his eyes closed and daggers still drawn. "Zen?" I screamed, hands hitting the ice-cold surface and merely glancing off.
A huge blast exploded to my right, causing shards of ice sharp as glass to splinter and shred any of my skin that was visible. My face and neck, even my covered arms felt the sting, but still I grabbed my daggers and tried chipping at the ice encasement.
It wasn't going to do any good, I realized—like an ice pick scraping a mountain. Panic and terror clenched at my throat, a scream ready to emerge, when a small hand grabbed my shoulder. "Here, step back," the female gnome said, her aura already glowing. The mage and another priest were casting spells on the ice, quickly making it melt. For the moment, we were sheltered by the diminishing block of ice, and Zen was released just as the bolts of ice stopped crashing down. He gasped loudly, lips blue and trembling as the priest continued to warm and heal him with the Light.
"Zen!"
"I'm fine," he chattered, though his arms now hugged his own chilled body as he shivered. "Just…just go."
My lips tightened. Certainly Zen didn't want me fighting—he had made that clear by now—but obviously he would prefer me distracted and fighting over worrying about him.
I watched numbly as the dragon landed, a roar ringing in my ears as blue flames stretched across the floor in a lethal dance. With a small reach I found my bow and poisoned arrow, knowing this fight wasn't my kind of fight. But I drew the arrow anyway, watching as Sindragosa aimed disastrous bites toward those closest to her. I released, my bow humming. The arrow pierced the inside of her jaw, causing her to hiss in surprise.
It was nothing, I knew. Like how it would feel if I bit my cheek. But it angered her, alright, and as she tried pawing the nuisance out of her jaw, our Draenei paladin and Dwarf paladin hurled huge smites and spells of Light that surely caused her bones to melt.
Another louder, angrier cry, and then she emitted another aura of frost meant to immobilize anyone close. "Help melee!" I called to the casters—more blasts took over the black sky.
The spells were thrown back again, causing our enemy to howl a mangled cackle. "Useless!" she boomed, wings batting her upwards once more.
Again two were frozen—the paladins—and the others were working on melting them out of the block as those unable to help sought shelter. "We have to finish this when she comes back down!" Micah instructed. I nodded, blinking as ice shards exploded in front of the platform I had hidden behind. "Give it everything when she returns!"
My head pounded so hard I thought I could faint, but when the definite boom signaled Sindragosa was back, I stood anyway.
I used my bow, the others mercilessly slashing and hurling spells. She must have taken some serious blows, because her body swooned, her cries more desperate. The paladins chanted together, a light forming around them, just as our warlock threw a cataclysmic spell that sizzled and hit the target with a hiss.
Light consumed my vision, so bright that even my closed eyes felt the heat of the power.
"Free…at last."
When I did open my eyes, Sindragosa was motionless on the platform, blue flames absent as a mere pile of bones laid before me. The warlock collapsed out of exhaustion, getting the immediate attention of two healers.
Micah sat on a step, visibly worn out as flashes of heals cocooned him. "How do we move on?" he asked. "Everyone's out of energy. We've used every tool, every ounce of strength possible and now we have nothing left to fight with."
"All is not lost, heroes."
The comforting aura I should have picked up sooner now seemed overpowering as Micah stood up at the sound of Fordring's voice. "Highlord," he gasped in surprise.
"Relax, warrior." Fordring's aura glowed golden as he approached our haggard, bloodied group. "The biggest fight is only up ahead, and you are acting defeated already."
"We were ignorant in leading an attack alone," Micah admitted carefully. I wanted to pat him on the back; all was forgiven.
"Well, we are here now," Fordring commented lightly. With a twinkling pair of eyes he lifted his hand over the group, glittering light falling over everyone. Immediately the healing effects were noticeable—my body felt almost as perfect as before this ordeal. "Long have I waited for this day, hero," Fordring announced simply. "Are you and your allies prepared to bring the Lich King to justice? We charge on your command!" he stated fiercely, facing a rejuvenated Micah.
"We are prepared, Highlord. Let us battle for the fate of Azeroth! For the light of dawn!" Micah hollered, sword held in the air.
Others cheered as well, but I watched Fordring as he smiled thinly.
I couldn't say I wanted death. But death was so common now, so surreal. Death was part of surviving now. And if I died, I prayed to the Light that it would not be in vain. I prayed that should I die, the Lich King would die with me.
It didn't feel real now. Not as we followed Fordring through the thickening darkness of the Lich King's aura. Perhaps it was my pulsating headache that displaced me from our new arena. Before I had processed it, we were within the large circle, before the Frozen Throne. The pointed obelisks towered around us, mocking us with their runes of dark magic. Fordring stepped assuredly across the ring, to the base of the endless steps going upward. At the top of the throne was the Lich King.
He always seemed so real in my mind, so capable; and now, standing before him, I could fully understand his insurmountable display of callous and bloodlust.
Fear, maybe. But having something to fear meant having something to live for. The acknowledgement of what I had gotten into began to sink into my skin, and I wanted nothing more than to jump into Zen's arms and hide my face. I stayed put instead.
"So…the Light's vaunted justice has finally arrived. Shall I lay down Frostmourne and throw myself at your mercy, Fordring?"
The slithering voice was all too familiar, the same voice haunting my thoughts for weeks and weeks now. It made me clench my fists. Fordring was un-phased. "We will grant you a swift death, Arthas. More than can be said for the thousands you've tortured and slain."
"You will learn of that firsthand." The Lich King began his descent to our level, his dark cape billowing as the tainted aura fought to overpower Fordring's pure, golden one. "When my work is complete, you will beg for mercy—and I will deny you," he growled coldly. "Your anguished cries will be testament to my unbridled power." Frostmourne glowed its own aura as the Lich King stood expectedly at the bottom step, one leap away from Fordring.
The Ashbringer was drawn now, glimmering as Fordring steadied himself. "So be it. Champions, attack!"
Before we could react, the Lich King waved, and Fordring was immobilized within a familiar case of ice. "I'll keep you alive to witness the end, Fordring. I would not want the Light's greatest champion to miss seeing this wretched world in my image."
"You filthy corpse!" Micah screamed, sword out as he took the first step. The rest of us quickly followed.
"Come then, champions, feed me your rage!" The Lich King strode past Fordring's motionless form, his sword meeting Micah's with a loud hiss. I was certain Frostmourne would decimate Micah, but he held fast.
Everyone was full throttle; spells whooshed past my head, and the floor warmed with consecrations. Being so close to the Lich King was hurting, but I slashed away, my daggers seemingly doing no damage.
"Your mortality could be cured…" Green smoke smothered a paladin, causing him to cough and swoon, but a priest managed to dispel whatever was harming him. The Lich King continued to wield Frostmourne against us, the power nearly overwhelming. Once he felt smothered, his hands would reach outward and conjure a ghoul, who was a head taller than the rest of us. It tried taking swings at my face, but our paladin tank quickly had the thing distracted.
We were managing for a while, until issues seemed to start arising. The priest was saying the plague kept jumping, once he dispelled it, to different beings that were nearby. Shadows began forming below us, and luckily nobody had yet to figure out what they were programmed to kill us with.
Micah swung fiercely, teeth gritted as he managed to get the Lich King off balance for a moment. He growled in victory, unrelenting as the Lich King then flashed a dark spell that momentarily stunned the tank—he gasped and dropped his sword.
It gave Arthas enough time to stick Frostmourne in the ice and begin casting something. The power conjured was unbelievable as it spiraled around the Lich King's form.
"Everyone back!" I screamed.
"To the edge!"
Everyone listened immediately—the horrors trudged after our Dwarf, who momentarily disregarded his giants to trample to the edge with us.
"I will freeze you from within until all that remains is an icy husk!"
I turned to run, just as Zen grabbed a hold of Micah's heavily armored arm. "Forget it, Micah!" Despite Zen's smaller structure, Micah was pulled back, his sword forgotten in the center of it all.
The power unleashed all at once. A blistering, icy wind—ten thousand times worse than any other in Northrend—poured from the center of the platform, burning my skin and leaving me breathless. The gale pushed me back even further, my heel scraping the rough edge of our circle, when the silver glint of Micah's sword caught my gaze.
Micah and Zen had barely made it to safety; they're bigger builds taking to the harsh winds worse than me. The sword was skittering against the icy floor, sliding toward the edge to my right.
I didn't realize I had made the decision until I had broken into a run and got nicked by the outer boundaries of the blistering spell; my skin felt on fire and caused me to yelp as I swung out of the way and slid on my rear. One foot was hanging off the perilous ledge, wind tormenting my irritated face, when my hand caught the hilt of Micah's falling sword. Impulse is what kept me alive-my off hand still held my dagger, which I stabbed into the sheet of ice. It was enough leverage to keep me on the platform.
A curse word erupted as I forced the half of my body back onto the platform, chest heaving as I carefully pulled myself onto my feet. Micah and Zen found their way to me, faces showing surprise. Micah exhaled as I yanked my dagger free of the thick ice. "Thank you. I don't know how we would even have a chance if-"
"It's nothing," I answered, withholding the urge to rub my face where it contacted the storm.
Then the wind was over, and with astonishing speed Micah charged, sword glistening. The Lich King dodged, hilt crushing Micah's upper back and forcing him onto the ground. "Watch as the world around you collapses!" Then Frostmourne was glowing again, splintering the ice around it with blue lightning.
I meant to move. The outer circle was glowing now, and cracking at a quick rate. But now I couldn't move—the Lich King had taken the time to be sure he kept me put.
"Grace!"
The snow shifted below me, no longer stable ground. My feet didn't try moving, and the feeling of weightless suspension caused my stomach to do somersaults.
The soon-to-be fall seemed bottomless. Then there was a tug, a huge whoosh as a sting of pain shot up my right arm. The sensation was enough to separate me from the Lich King—I blinked hard, body collapsing onto immobile ice as Zen released his grip on my arm. "Zen," I breathed.
"This is too dangerous for you," he stated, trying to address me but instead watching the mess of a battle. "You are face to face with the one being capable of throwing you off this cliff with just the blink of his eyes. He could do that a continent away, and now he's here."
"I know," I croaked, unable to look at his sullen face. "I know."
"I didn't come to watch you die." I said nothing, it hurt too much. This hurt too much. His lips tightened, eyes not on me but full of intent anyway. "Grace, I-"
"Val'kyr, come to my aid!"
I grinded my teeth. The voice of the Lich King was bone-jarring; my temples throbbing worse when he would speak. But the shriek of a response had me on alert, and I opened my eyes in time to witness our Dwarf off-tank get picked off by the "Val-kyr"-the bird-like Undead angels that I had only once more crossed paths with. Its huge wings had the little paladin in flight in no time, and in awe I watched as the hollering Dwarf was flown off the platform and dropped, only to eventually slam into solid ground that was breaths away from us now.
Though the snow had begun to drift and paint the winds before us, it wasn't the cause of my shudder.
"Everyone keep close! I want the casters aware of-"
The beings that had been corralled by our Dwarf—the Undead giants—were now giving Micah a hard time, and the Lich King took advantage of it. His blade sliced, cutting Micah's forearm and drawing blood with a hiss. Our Night Elf warrior, not used to playing tank, attempted to draw our additional Undead away from the main fight. We had another Draenei paladin trying to make a mark on the King, while the hunter and tiger focused on all of the beings meant to distract us from the Lich King. Zen was also now joining the fight against Arthas, and as spells and flashes burst around me, I went to attack as well.
The Lich King would continuously keep us feet away, either by sword or spell or brute force. He elbowed Zen away, a splintering crunch drowning out a yelp as he fell and clutched his face. Then Frostmourne was swinging toward the distracted me, and even though I wasn't struck, the whoosh of power threw me on my back. "Bow down before your lord and master!"
I heard the sizzle before the pain set in. But when the fiery sting of pain flared across my upper back and left forearm, I bolted upright, screaming as the stick, tar-like substance refused to let me go. Eventually I escaped, though the unrelenting sensation of hot coals on my skin told me I had suffered much damage.
"Watch out for the pool-"
I blinked, mind non-functional as I glanced behind my left shoulder to view the damage. My legs almost gave out as the stench of burnt flesh and the image of scorched muscle and tissue hit my face. My heart rate increased; my back was definitely suffering—breathing became difficult as it stretched and tore my already blotched skin.
The pain had tried dragging me into a different world, and I wanted to give in. I wanted to collapse and shudder and beg for relief. But I couldn't. And when a second sizzle and cry met my ears, I found myself back on the platform, before the black pool that now held the female Night Elf priest that had drawn too close. Her body must have fallen in face down, and now the ooze was bubbling, eating at skin from the neck down.
The Night Elf hunter must have been calling her name, and desperately. The tone of his voice and her eyes of anguish compelled me: I reached for her. Even as her hand gripped my own did her legs burn and shrivel up into mere bone. Her hand slackened, slipping from my own as her eyes rolled back, her body splashing again into the vile liquid to be eaten away completely. I gasped, in pain and revulsion, my body hating me right now as I stumbled backward only to land on my injured backside.
How much longer.
Only moments had passed as I looked on at the massacre. I watched numbly as the druid in tree form was easily carried off the ledge and rid of. I watched as more slick pools of black appeared, cornering us. Herding us.
I blinked, hard, trying to keep the blackness that was working to drag me into unconsciousness at bay. Another heavy storm began like the first, pushing us back to the dangerous edge. I barely made it to safety. My back, already damaged and losing blood, felt like it was being stabbed repeatedly by the storm's waves of power. I was at my breaking point. The pain was too much, the reality too real. Zen was at my side, his bangs mussed by the wind as he found my injuries. His own bloodied face stared in shock. "Grace?"
"It's over," I breathed with difficulty. "This is it."
Zen's lips tightened, the way they always did when he didn't want to say something, but would anyway. His hand found my own, though it was splotched with dry blood, I clung onto it like it was my lifeline. "This is it."
I looked. Micah was trying to hide his swollen face. Even the ranged damage—our remaining hunter, mage, and warlock, had taken beatings. I locked eyes on Zen again, who had been studying me, but now pulled me carefully in, his lips locking onto mine, tasting of urgency and grief and desperation. It would all be over soon, and we would not exist. But right now, I had Zen. We had each other. Zen was mine.
I mourned the lives lost. I mourned for the future. My family. I grieved over my powerlessness. What would become of life?
I tried.
Zen pulled away with a shudder, my tears finally able to fall. "We'll do this together, remember?" he asked softly. It came out hoarse. "No matter how it ends."
Zen was reminding me of the tournament, when I had told him the same thing. I smiled, though it hurt to by now, and gave Zen's hand a final squeeze. "No matter how it ends."
The winds were waning. Micah stood, blue eyes sparkling behind grimy, bloody cheeks. "We will not die without a fight!" he screamed. "For the Alliance!"
We charged before our ground splintered. Before I could reach the Lich King, I was met by two purple ghouls, their claws reaching for my death.
It hurt to fight. Zen had gotten pushed away from me by these things, and now I had to dodge two swipes from them. I tried an offensive attack that was utterly pitiful in technique in speed. The hunter's feline came to my aid, and with its help I rid of the two ghouls. I looked up to see the warlock getting slashed by another foul spirit, and with an inhuman cry I dove, my dagger swiping at what should have been legs. The ghoul turned with a fluid motion—I ducked away from another clawed attack and stabbed ungracefully. The fire on my back flared at every movement, causing me to groan. My enemy growled in agitation, drawing its hand back for a death blow, when a cascade of Light smothered it, leaving no remains of the spirit behind.
It was the Draenei priest, Tzu. I forced a smile out of habit, meant to be a 'thanks,' but it went unreturned. Solemnly the priest shook his head. "It's Zen…" He motioned toward the mangled body left for dead on the opposite side.
My whole body wanted to heave in misery. Each step toward him was difficult, physically and emotionally; the Lich King was a stone's throw away, where he was currently dealing with the Night Elf warrior who was shielding the body of an unconscious Micah.
I disregarded the danger. Why fight. Why prolong the inevitable. And I needed to see him; I needed to be with Zen. When I made it, I kneeled and gently rolled Zen onto his back, ignoring the own scorching pain that shot up my spine. Were my hands going numb? Immediately the pungent smell of blood hit my nose; the puddle of scarlet he now lay in made me choke back a cry. "Zen, Zen…" I tapped his cheek, his face so bloody and pale. The gashes responsible had torn open his chest and abdomen, so gruesome I couldn't get myself to look over them. Fatal wounds.
Zen opened his eyes weakly. I cried his name once more, my mouth mumbling incomprehensible nothings as I ripped off my cape and tried covering the gashes that would keep bleeding anyway. I was desperate. I had to keep Zen alive.
"Grace, listen. I have to…"
"Zen," I whispered, pushing a silver wisp of his bangs back like it would sew him back together. His hand, so cold, somehow found my own as my other tried cradling his neck.
"Grace, I love you."
I smiled through a gasp of sobs, my vision blurry. Forcefully I wiped the tears away—I had to see Zen now. "Zen-"
And then it was just pain. Through my tearful eyes I could see the cold, silver blade of Frostmourne protruding from my own chest, destroying my heart. Destroying me.
This is how you die.
When the blade was pulled out with a sickening swish, I watched my own blood pool around Zen and me, scarlet on scarlet. My eyes, already receding into the dark, locked onto Zen's, still a brilliant green. Shock riddled his face; concern for me even as he lay beneath me dying. I panted once, trying to say his name one last time. And then there was blackness.
[end]
There you have it! ONE MORE UPDATE LEFT for my lovely readers. Please review it makes me so so so so so happy =PPP
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