Chapter 4: FORSAKEN AFFAIRS

(Disclaimer is at the prologue of this story) Story may not be accurate to that of written accounts in various sources.


Capital City (Or the Undercity), Lordaeron

Sylvanas was not a coward. By all means, she would've charged at an enemy fortress by herself if need be. She was a confident archer and even if the Lich King had ripped her life apart, her former elven cunning was still burning within her.

Why then, did she run when she knew that she had cornered the Lich Kel'Thuzad in a one-sided battle? The answer to this question takes us to a Forsaken outpost south of the Tirisfal Glades southern border.

A group of banshees were casually gliding around the citadel grounds as if waiting for something. Mere seconds later, a bright blue beam erupted from the sky. It charged the citadel with force and their mistress appeared slowly out of the beam.

Sylvanas Windrunner stared around at the group of banshees before her and declared, "Is this about my son?"

The banshees looked at one another. Soon, they were united in nodding their ghostly heads.

"He has become stubborn, madam," one banshee spoke up. "He follows no one but you."

"He has his father's looks but his mother's cunning. I shall talk to him." Sylvanas walked out of the group and headed towards the Altar where her son would most probably be found..

True enough, a large winged creature, very much like a dreadlord was lying prostrated in front of the Altar. The form of Balanar was intriguing because he had a the distorted features of his father, Varimathras but the elvish looks of his mother. He seemed to be intensely worshipping the figure of the Lich King, which wasn't supposed to be practiced at all. Statues of the Lich King such as this were only power points for reviving the souls of heroes.

Sylvanas walked up to him making as much noise as possible on the concrete floor. Balanar did not budge.

Sylvanas rolled her eyes. "Balanar."

Balanar was startled and looked around. Upon seeing the form of his mother, he immediately stood up. "Mother..."

Balanar was a few heads taller than she. Sylvanas was actually pleased by this, but she reserved this compliment for some other, more convenient time.

"My sister banshees spot you here for a long time. Are you worshipping the Lich King?" There was a certain reprimand in her voice as if this accusation was already proven true.

"My loyalties lie with Nathrezim. Father taught me so." Balanar told his small mother.

"Your father was a fool. If it wasn't for me, he wouldn't have agreed into forming up an heir to the Forsaken throne. Know where your loyalties lie, son." Sylvanas' voice was harder than usual.

"I look like my father. I am fit enough to be considered 'Dreadlord'."

"But through your veins runs the blood of a renegade witch. The Nathrezim will never allow you into them with the blood such as yours!" Sylvanas triumphantly exclaimed.

Balanar looked away from his mother. It was this whole forsaken bloodline of his. Will the Nathrezim ever accept him only because of similar looks?

"You are bound to me as well as to your father." Sylvanas said, staring at the face of her son. "It is ultimately your choice in deciding what to believe. You are privileged to have a free soul, free from the Lich King's grasp. Remember, Balanar, that I have given you this trait."

Balanar was listening but dare not look into his mother's eyes. She did not feel what he was feeling now.

"I need you on the field, Balanar." Sylvanas said in an almost pleading voice. "Your powers are formidable and can be used to our advantage."

And with that, Sylvanas left, thinking very deeply on the conversation with her son.


Balanar stood there for a long time, staring at the place where his mother had disappeared. She did not know how he was feeling. The Nathrezim was his real family, his father had been so.

Balanar stared into the face of the idol behind him. He knew that the Lich King wasn't his real master, but with his mother breathing down his neck, this was the only access he had to the Burning Legion. For the past few weeks, he had been searching for some way to contact his fellows Dreadlords and never paused for thought of the consequences that his differences in appearance and skill would cause.

But, now, the topic had been brought up. What would the Dreadlords think, when they tested his abilities and found out he had not inherited any of his father's skills?

Balanar felt anger bubble inside him, unconsciously causing a second's worth of eclipse. It was all his mother's fault. She had predicted this and had caged him even before Balanar thought of escaping!

He wracked his brain for any means to escape and not rouse his mother's suspicions. He could not think of any. Balanar stared at the Lich King long and hard. An answer came to him, but his immediate thought was that it would be suicidal if his assumptions were false.

Balanar bowed his way out of the Altar grounds before briskly walking towards the gates of the citadel. The only way to contact the Nathrezim was to plead with the Lich King himself. In that case, he would have to ditch his mother and her Forsaken army completely! He had to put his mother out of the picture...

Balanar stopped and thought. Was he so selfish that he would kill his own mother? Was he prepared for the consequences of his actions? Was he sure that the Dreadlords would accept him as he is?

He was not sure of any of these actions. He was not sure of anything at all. But he resolved to decide for the evening. After all, he is the Night Stalker.


Balanar shut himself from the rest of the crowd in order to concentrate on his decision. He must apply all possible consequences for each action he was about to take. This was difficult considering all possible scenarios that could develop from this plan of his.

The hours trickled by and the bright lights flashing from the window grew dimmer and dimmer until a dark red color filled the sky. And still Balanar had not decided.

It was down to one question: Who did he value more? His ambition or his mother?

If he chose to end his mother's life and pursue the career he had been aiming all his life, he could end up either victorious or dead. But if he continued to struggle in his mother's arms like a baby, he would sooner or later commit suicide for his lack of purpose in life.

Balanar closed his eyes and let the darkness sink through him. This soothing action strengthened his resolve. The Nathrezim were his true family. His mother was barring his way and must be eliminated.


Kel'Thuzad's Base Camp, Tirisfal-Capital South Border

Sylvanas Windrunner had arrived at the scene of battle via Sky Barge. The mechanical transport ship was slow but very reliable in bloody ambushes. The Barges could drop any unit into an enemy site unseen and the Undead would do what they do best: killing.

This is exactly what Sylvanas was trying to do. She had heard from her intelligence networks, that the Lich was staying by the Tirisfal Border Encapment for this night and then would be moved out to the ESU battles to the east by the next morning. This was her one chance to duel with the Lich one-on-one and she would not let the chance miss.

The Barge dropped her off, noiselessly in a dense forest which surrounded the Scourge camp. Lights from the encampment buzzed into her ears. The cries of torture and death punctured the night air soothing the mind of Sylvanas. She was Undead after all...

She crouched behind a clump of dense bushes and readied her bow. As she suspected, a scout in the form of a necromancer was patrolling the outskirts of the camp. If she were seen, the necromancer would send some skeletal warriors to raise the alarm.

She cautiously armed the bow with one of her arrows and poured in some dark powers into her shot. With her mana pool bubbling a bit, she pulled the string and let the arrow fly. It hit its mark, consuming the trembling necromancer.

The blood-bathed Minion appeared before her, ready to follow the given instructions.

"Follow me. Kill any other who feels our presence." Sylvanas then urged the Minion to follow her.

Together they crept into the center of the camp. Every now and then, ghouls and necromancers would appear making Sylvanas stop in the process. But she would resume her pace and walk again, the Minion clattering behind her.

They eventually reached the center camp. The center tent looked strikingly similar to a necropolis and it even seemed to have the stone statues spitting out the Undead sewage. Then again, she did see a tent back there that looked like a crypt.

The Minion was still following Sylvanas and since they made it safely to the center, she discharged it from service. Sylvanas left the pile of bones and headed for the side of the necropolis-tent. She could hear the voice of Kel'Thuzad speaking to two others with him: one was a tall human figure, while the other was a four-legged creature.

"— a servant?" the Lich's echoing voice loomed into hearing range.

"Yes, Lich," an arrogant voice very human-like sounded. "The horse and I were sent to find him. Do you know of such a place to gain contact with it?"

"Let me clarify first," Kel'Thuzad seemed uneasy with the crowd he was with. "The... err... horse will the contact this servant of his?"

"How many times do you need telling, Lich?" the same arrogant voice shouted along with a fist pounding on a tabletop. "That is our mission. And if you can't help us, we will be off."

There was moment's silence where Kel'Thuzad seemed to be thinking deeply. Then he spoke, "The ruins of Alterac. There was an old myth from the humans, that that place was a sacred ground where creatures from another world would take a misted presence. If that is not related to your search, I have nothing else to tell you."

"Alterac ruins?" the arrogant voice spoke once more. "That seems a place to start our search. We apologize for barging in on your sweet time, Lich. We'll be leaving." The voice turned to his companion. "Let's go, Leshrac."

The two of them departed from the tent. Sylvanas caught a glimpse of a Death Knight judging from the usual dead horse that they ride. The other was a horned creature, half man and half horse. The creature looked transparent and Sylvanas assumed that this was one of the Lich King's Tormented Soul servitors that she kept hearing about.

Taking no chances, she waited for the two of them to leave the camp before going in for the kill by which time the Lich had turned off the lamplight and had gone off to rest.

Sylvanas entered the tent without noise and searched for the Lich's coldcoffin, the bed for creatures such as they. The coffin was leaned upright by the tent wall. Kel'Thuzad's figure as just standing there, asleep. Sylvanas adjusted her bow and arrow. One quick shot to the heart and the Scourge campaign would be over. But still, there was the two strangers sent by the Lich King to worry about...

She pulled the string and aimed. Then it happened.

A sudden intense pain within her erupted. It wasn't anything she had ever felt before. The pain was so intense she lost control of her arrow firing it straight through the tent and ripping the canvas.

The Lich jerked awake and gasped when he saw Sylvanas on the floor. He burst through the coffin and glided towards her. "Were you meaning to assassinate me?"

"Stop it, Lich, stop it." Sylvanas' face was contorted in rage and fury.

"I have done nothing." Kel'Thuzad spoke innocently. "But I must thank the one causing you immense pain."

He whirled around to find no one in the room except them both. But Kel'Thuzad felt a strong presence of somebody else nearby. He could feel the magic connecting Sylvanas with her captor. "Show yourself! Only a coward hides from encounter!"

"Calm down, Lich," a voice cold and malicious spoke up from the shadows. "I just came for my mother."

"Who are you?" the Lich was still unconvinced. "What mother?"

Kel'Thuzad could not understand. Something felt eerie in this situation. Mother? Was the voice talking about Sylvanas?

A brief rustle of grass came from outside. A shadow of something huge could be seen through the canvas. The form was oddly familiar. It looked pretty much like a...

"Dreadlord..." Kel'Thuzad whispered loudly.

A dreadlord-like creature entered into the tent. It had some distorted features but the resemblance was unnerving. "Thanks for the compliment, but I'm no dreadlord."

It took the Lich a couple of minutes to process the information and put the pieces of the puzzle together. The mystery person just stood there, waiting for him to figure it all out.

Then Kel'Thuzad whispered. "No, it can't be. That's outrageous."

"But it's true, Lich." the dreadlord-like creature said calmly as if this was an organized meeting between the three of them. "I am Balanar, son of Varimathras! I came here this night to end my long slavery to the Forsaken. Tonight, I renounce my old ways!"

Sylvanas was just staring at her son at this point but her son's sudden appearance could only mean one thing: her death. "Son, think about it! I'm your mother!"

"My family are the Nathrezim." Balanar reasoned out. "The Forsaken mean nothing to me now!"

"Son!" Sylvanas pleaded. Kel'Thuzad was just standing there waiting for the end to happen. "Son, I would do anything! Anything! Spare me!"

"I have resisted you long enough, mother." Balanar's hatred seemed to be pouring out of him. "Goodbye."

Then with a swift slash of a claw, Sylvanas was sprawled on the floor, dead.

The Dreadlord-Elf hybrid turned towards the Lich, wiping his bloodied hand upon his clothes. Kel'Thuzad looked very pleased with how events had turned out.

"I should say that the Lich King is very pleased at the moment." Kel'Thuzad spoke up. Immediately, Balanar grinned. This was one big step to victory for him...