Frozen ground bears my heavy feet. Black rocks jut wildly upon the shattered cold ground. Wooden barricades give security to dozens of soldiers in yellow, red and black. A deep, hollowed, black path runs down the middle of this small encampment; it cuts through the whitish-gray soil, and ends at a massive, gray staircase.
Black slabs of solid stone rise from the icy ground. Hulking skulls are placed ominously on the face of the hundred-foot tall rising blocks. Their sinister eyes and twisted horns resemble that of the skull built upon the Lich King's blade.
That same skull haunts my dreams. Of that I am certain. You feel the boogey man lives within it. He hates them all.
Sounds of battle reverberate upon this low, dark valley. Screams of clashing warriors echo clearly and fiercely. Cries of falling soldiers and victorious heroes mingle and spill upon these cold, dry, dark lands.
Yellow and blue clad soldiers brace walls of unyielding skeletons and lumbering abominations. Red and black bearing fighters join the fray against giants and leaping fiends. Navy blue, armored death knights duel undead lieutenants of equal power and skill.
Fighters scuffle. Warriors convey war. Soldiers silence foes. Leaders lead, and heroes rally. Each man, in his own right, bears all qualities or dies striving to achieve them. And it is but a few that intensify these said aspects.
"Soldiers of the Horde, crush these weak fools! Smash their bodies and grind their skulls within your mangled claws!" Garrosh holds back dozens of raging ghouls, yet still stirs his men to war.
Wrynn breaks the line of assaulting skeletons and charges forward, "Warriors of the Alliance, let their bodies pave a path to the citadel! March upon it gloriously and spread it endlessly!"
"Sons of Durotar, allies of the Horde, march forth, march hard, march with honor! Bring the fight to the steps of Icecrown! Show the Scourge they have no place upon these lands!" Mighty Thrall throws a swirling hammer of silvery destruction at a pack of leaping monsters.
A giant, glowing dwarf barrels through a legion of now fleeing Scourge warriors. Flying maces crash into the ground, sending barrages of dirt and ice spiraling into the air. A deep, crackling voice bellows, "For Khaz Modan," as Muradin lays siege to the assaulting Scourge.
"Knights of the Ebon Blade, let each fallen enemy boost your strength! Let each crumbling foe fuel your rage! Let the Lich King know that which it created comes. And it comes with vengeance!" Darion rallies his knights as he charges down the path, towards the towering steps.
Arrows rain from the hands of both the mighty queen and the deadly assassin that is Nathanos. Undead warriors of the like march along side the horde and alliance with vengeance fueling their hearts. All follow the lead of the one lady…
"Remember the day your life was taken from you! Remember the untold horrors of the dark voice! Remember and hatred shall guide you. Victory for the Forsaken!" Sylvanas inspires her unruly warriors.
Soldiers of all varieties follow these heroes straight into battle. Carlin, Nathanos, Jessica, and Mark all join the grand fighters in fierce combat. All the companions of the Light flock to the power of the Ashbringer; all able bodies bring war to the heart of the Icecrown.
Even overhead small white birds, grand gray Gryphons, and winged Wyverns fight gargoyles and malicious destroyers. Gliding, wooden behemoths defy gravity, given flight by man-made instruments. Hulking cannons barrage fleets of Frostwyrms. Gargantuan weaponry lay waste to armies below. Massive airships guided by whatever means…for the righteous ends.
The scene is war. The battle is overwhelming. The number of units on both sides is ridiculous. The casualties are low for us heroes, and are countless for the Scourge. You bath in the dead! He would be…if he weren't standing around.
Carefully I reach back, grab my blade, and draw it forward. I suck air in heavily. I release it slowly. Matted hair clings to my face. Sights of advancing heroes fuel my determination. This is it, Hope. Guide them. Guide them to the towering steps themselves. You can do it! He has the power!
Feet land heavily upon the unforgiving ground. Ice clings to the soles as each step lands and lifts. Faster, I move forward. Armor shifts and cracks beneath my feet. Bones crack and splinter as I charge forward. Warriors near. Steps draw me closer.
With each passing moment, I close in on the quickly moving heroes. They break the wall of warring Scourge units. They near the base of the steps, and I near their flanks. Closer. I draw. Shovel lifts to my shoulder. Focus flows freely.
Light, hum, flash.
Spiraling energy spins wildly. A giant is consumed by the massive blast. Skeletons collapse from the mere sight. Ghouls break from the impact. Abominations fall from the shockwave. Soldiers spin and cheer as I near the steps. Cries of victory flow as I fight to the front lines. Scourge mass as I lift my weapon.
Light, hum, flash.
The ball collides with stone slope and oddly rolls up the many steps. Enemies are torn asunder, leaving vast holes in their lines. Heroes flood the steps. They flood the steps and follow my marching feet. Now I lead the pack; weapon at the ready, fury unleashing upon the foe.
Flash, Flash, Flash.
Dozens of enemies explode as the torrent of light tears them to pieces. Carlin lunges forward, whipping and thrashing the might of the Ashbringer. Arrows whistle overhead and rain down. Blades of the faction leaders crash upon the Scourge.
We do not slow as bodies crash into ours. We do not slow as minions of the Scourge collapse and form a corpse barrier before us. We do not slow as we near the top, nor as we barrel to the final steps. We do not stop as we flood over the final crevasse and scatter upon the flat platform that builds the base of the giant Citadel.
Yellow and blue soldiers rush to the left of the platform and quickly secure a footing. Red and Black warriors take to the right and gain a firm control. Black knights, laced with blue, stay back and hold the steps.
But all is dwarfed by what lies ahead…
It is what stands before us that distracts me. It is what looms menacingly that calls our attention. It what rests in the heart of the metal edifice that beckons our minds. Ahead…a wide open door leads into the citadel itself.
Something is not right. We took the steps with barely a fight. Those numbers were weak at best. Something is definitely not right. You can feel it. He certainly can.
White smoke floats from the corners of door. Heavy film builds upon the gaping chasm, bringing movement to the swallowing darkness. Ice hangs from the frame, dangling into the vast black wall of the terrifying unknown.
I look into the heart of darkness and simply say, "This ain't right…"
Darion takes a step forward but suddenly stops. He looks back to his knights below then glances to me.
"Hope, I may have been hallucinating, but when I arrived, I swear I saw Tirion himself battling at this gate." He sighs, "He fought hard and managed to struggle his way into the fortress."
Garrosh grunts loudly, "The Death Knight does not lie! I saw the insane human assaulting this massive entrance. His strength took down this very door."
Skeptically, I peer to Wrynn. The king stares into the abyss as if it already siphoned his soul. His eyes are wide, vacant of attention. They gaze, his mouth sundered, unheard screams of anguish slip past his lips. Suddenly he flinches and nods.
"Yes, it was Tirion…there was no mistaking it."
Nathanos steps forward and shakes his head, "Unheard of. Tirion could have not taken this all by himself. That is nonsense."
"It is simply farfetched." Sylvanas looks forward and shifts to Marris before continuing, "Fordring was a grand fighter, but to beat down the door of death single-handedly? Unbelievable."
We all stare forward. Frosty winds slip in and out of the dark opening as if calling us. Icy spikes climb my spine, clinging to my gawking sight. Death itself whispers sweet nothings into my ear.
Suddenly, a distant voice booms, "Scourge soldiers are massing! A counterassault for these very steps!"
Instantly, I gaze back onto the frozen field. Hundreds of undead warriors gather and form ranks for the assault. The very ground trembles, shattering to the numerous, tenebrous warriors rising. An ambush…
As the foes rise, heroes flee to these stairs, an unnerving position at best.
Garrosh and King Wrynn quickly descend the case and make to the front lines. It would seem the two are still competing for kills. You know they are. He is just lucky they haven't taken each other's head yet.
Thrall shifts and turns to the entrenching Horde troops at the platform around us. He seems nervous as malicious Scourge troops flood around the bend, another prepared strike amassed from within the citadel itself.
I am not certain what entrance or exit they spill from, but the flood gates of the damned have broken. And the balcony we hold will be the dam to the rage. Thrall knows this, and he also understands that it is in where he warrior's strength lies.
"Heroes, the time to strike at the enemy is now." He shifts towards his barricaded warriors, "It is here where my vengeance shall be dealt. Go, bring the King to his knees."
The Warchief pounds his chest before rushing to aid his warriors against the assault. At the same time, I watch as Muradin makes to assist the troops on the other side of this circular flat bastion.
However, he halts promptly, twisting back to me, "Go, lad. I will wait here to make sure no spooky fiends sneak up on'ye."
I throw the dwarf a weak smile than look forward. The swirling black mess calls to me. It begs me to come in. It wants me to step into its churning damnation and taste of its terror.
I take a deep breath and make it move. Nathanos, however rushes forward and turns to me as he does.
"Worm, I will not be telling this story to someone else's children with the words, 'Worm walked into the citadel first.'" He makes for the door than suddenly stops. "Long story short, me first."
He then scans the frame of the door then glances into the darkness. His eyes sweep back and forth and his jaw lowers. For a long, lingering moment he gazes forward. Finally, he swallows his fear, fills himself with pride, and rushes forward.
In a flash, he vanishes into the black wall. In a flash, he is no more than a myth, a legend swallowed by the darkness. A terrible twisting sensation grips my stomach. Fortunately, it is quelled by the mighty queen.
Sylvanas grunts loudly and slips past me. She does not hesitate when entering. She does not slow. She simply runs straight inward, consumed by the shadows. You know that is what you have to do. He cannot hesitate.
Yes, you are right. Breath, Hope, breath.
Now go!
Speedily I rush hastily for the black wall. With each passing second, it increases in size. Each step it fills all my vision. With each thundering, echoing roar, the black abyss becomes all I know.
The metal frame passes me, and draws life from my skin as I move. A deep, unnerving chill claws my flesh and drills at my mind. A strange light radiates from overhead, fading as pockets of frosty winds drift through it. It is as if a cascading waterfall of frozen air drifts down the sides of a massive, spiraled ice pillar.
Crystals of chaos form jagged patterns across a visible looping path. Its appearance resembles that of slide that reverses upwards into the heavens, stopping only for a black wall of solid metal. Again, it would seem that the Lich King deems himself worth of a stature undeserving.
The path to the Death-God rests perfectly centered amongst a murky cavern of death. Long, metal bridges jut from the massive column, stretching to a pyramidal, metal wall -- a vertical rise of iron casing. Clean, elongated spikes of ice cling to the underbelly of said metallic walkways. Each pointy prick motions the eye downward to the green tainted metal across the disturbing ground.
A thick, frosty film rushes across the vast of the large, frozen floor and runs to large, blade-like spires nestled all along the metallic shell. Chains connect to the tips of the spires, while deathly spines protrude like pricks of a porcupine. It is like a network of dark art, metal drawing in all directions, filling the void of dark demise with constructs of equal terror.
Winged beasts scurry across chains and fly within the massive hollowed space. Scourge soldiers scamper across bridges and rush into spires. The world of the Lich King is shrouded by shadows and cooled by frothy pockets of descending air.
Tendrils of the ominous clouds claw downwards, reaching for a resting place amongst the graves built of earthen soil. Bodies litter the ground, signifying a battle already taken place. Skeletons, ghouls, death knights, and soldiers clad in yellow, black, blue, and red, all rest here. Banners scatter across the floor. An attack was launched this day. And from the losses, it would seem that neither side proclaimed victor.
I make to speak, but Sylvanas beats me, "It would seem Tirion did indeed make it inside. But he was definitely not alone."
"These troops must have followed him in. I am not sure where they came from, but they definitely followed him." Oddly the voice of Darion trails softly. "Disappointing that they all bear the mark of Arthas now. The mark of death."
Silence sweeps in after him.
Suddenly, the sounds of a gasping Carlin emit. I am not certain if it is from the sight, or from the rather apparent lack of air. It is insanely difficult to breath. The vapors of ice and frost seem to swallow my lungs.
I hear a whimper and I turn to see Jessica standing at the door, with Muradin at her side. She stares upon the ground and shakes wildly. Fear radiates from her pours, and I quickly rush to her. I stop at the metallic frame. She speaks as I cease movement.
"Hope, I cannot." She shakes her head, "It is horrific. I can feel him. I can feel the terror." Her hand reaches up and grabs something around her neck. "The fear is overwhelming, I just cannot…"
With a swift jerk, she removes a small necklace from her body and hands it to me. Fingers click wildly together as it lowers.
"This belonged to my sister." I reach down, and touch her flesh as I remove the metal chain. Instantly her hand stops vibrating.
She glances down at her hand and then to me in bewildered splendor. After a second she speaks.
"Hope, I do not know who you are, or what gave you life, but please, take this. Remember me with it. Remember me when you drive your spade down that monster's throat."
Her arms recoil. We stand opposite of the door. One stands free, out of the dark, freezing air. The other holds in his hand an item of freedom. Both of them wish the same end to this tale, but one will be there, experiencing it first hand. The other…unscarred and pure.
I look into her eyes, and she looks into mine. A smirk forms upon her face as we gaze into each other's soul. A smile stretches across mine as our beings play in another time and place.
Her lips move, but something unexpected bellows forth…
"HOPE!"
Horrible echoes rattle the halls of this damned structure. The bellowing roar rumbles and quakes every inch of known earth. It's sinister, ear screeching voice assaults my mind and grips my spine.
"YOU ARE MINE."
Again the voice radiates forth, but this time a sickening twist follows. Metal screeching against metal fills the air. Sparks shoot from the corners of the frame as the door speeds down and shuts. I do not move, but pounding fists echo from outside.
All I can do is simply gaze upon the metallic blocker and let a terrible feeling fill my body. The horrific sensation gathers upon my flesh and feeds inward. It grips my soul and quakes me to my boots. Fear…
"Lad! Are you alright?" Muradin shouts from outside.
Weakly I yell back, "Yes. It would see Arthas wanted the door to hit me on the way in..."
There is silence for a moment and then he speaks again. "Blast it lad!" He pounds the door heavily, it won't budge!
More rumbling thuds roll from outside. He continues on for a good minute before ceasing the futile effort. It is then I can hear him sigh deeply, "Lad, it would seem fate did not destine for me to take part in Arthas' death."
He pauses briefly.
"Go, lad, do what must be done." I hear a deep sigh again, "But can ya'do me a favor, lad?"
My body quakes as I reply, "Muradin, I would…be…honored."
"Lad," he pauses briefly, patiently concocting his sentence, "remember every second of the King's dying moment. Remember it vividly and perfectly."
His words soften, as if sorrow dances along side his obvious rage, "I want to taste every bit of his death from ye'words." But from his words, it is only his vengeance that seeks through.
I make to smile, but the frost lingers. Lungs expand as much as they are allowed, and air escapes in crackling bursts.
"Will do, Muradin. Will do."
There is another pause before he shouts.
"Go, lad! We will be fine!"
Silence.
"Go!"
Silence.
At that I stare at the door. Tinged gray feeds my mind a buffet of unpleasant emotions. It is as if I can feel death lurking from the dark matter this is the sealed, lifeless frame. Air crawls into my lungs and morphs menacingly.
Bones creak like fracturing ice. Muscles stretch like snowdrifts down mountainsides. Slowly, carefully, I shift my direction back to the others trapped in this nightmare. The pack of heroes stands exactly as before. They stare at me oddly, screaming the tales of fear from their stances.
I sigh again and quickly attach the necklace, tucking it under my armor. Slowly, I creep forward. Wafts of ice air smother my feet with every passing moment. Gaseous pustules slough from unseen vents scattered upon the walls.
Frozen carcasses rest stationary as my heavy leather soles shuffle past them. Crystals slowly grip my chest and cling onto the mushy lining of my lungs. Crunching snow and snapping bones drives my sanity to the brink, but I must hold firm. You act as if you are still sane. He truly does.
Carefully, I shift past the startled companions and move to a large chasm. Looking down, all I can see is a vast sea of darkness. White smoke pillows softly from the calm abyss, and gentle sounds of rocking waves carry to my ears. You hear the once marvelous sounds of the glacial waters. He now seems the darkness that has consumed it.
"COME TO ME, MY CHAMPION."
Sinister demise beckons from a voice devoid of all humanity.
Unpredictably, a quaking roar screams from below. Excitement stirs within the churning tide of darkness, bringing to light an object of pure damnation. My eyes take only a moment to adjust to the lifting platform of light absorbing metal.
Quickly, it lifts upwards and draws a path of solid steel for our destiny. Spiny railings draw upwards from the sides of the pathway, while large blades extend terrifyingly outward. After a second it shifts into place and gives a proper route to the center platform.
To the massive ramp of the false god.
Frosty air clings to the sides. Claws of shapeless wind thrash upon a calm, icy breeze. They whip at the tops of the spiky railings and dance around the frozen blades. They spiral upon the iron, playfully inviting me to join. Black metal lures me onward as green blotches beg for me to stay.
A grand dilemma, but it must be done…
Shifting forward, my foot drags onto the metal. Echoing across the skies is the sound of leather slamming against metal. Creatures of all sorts cease all activity and eye the man stepping on a bridge of damnation. And each set of optics I can feel upon me…
I take a long, drawn out breath before shuffling forward. Each step screams loudly and alerts all beings to my presence. Of course, one has to believe that they already knew I was here. You know your alarms. He knows he is being watched…
Multiple rings of chiming metal bellow from behind, and I instantly acknowledge the others following. Faster, I shift forward. I do not dare glance downwards. Faster, I scurry to the other end. Fear grasps my soul. Faster!
Finally, I scamper from the hanging platform. My eyes lock onto the blackened white of the ice before me. A short, sloping wall leads to the pillar of frozen terror. Ahead, a path leads over an ice-sealed door, which calls to me with its sweeping, bubbly tendrils.
Reluctantly, I move forward. Ice is crisp, and my feet levigate the moist powder easily. Each crunching step draws me further. Each crunching stomp drags me to the path. Each crunching march brings me to the ramp.
My eyes sweep to the white, upward route. Black shadows cling sickeningly to the pure substance, tainting it with wickedness. Shrouded air blocks my vision and forces my sight upwards. The pillar stretches a great distance into the sky. Wrapping darkness is brought form as clouds of pure iniquity suffocate the vast structure.
"Go on, Hope. We are right behind you." Carlin's voice calls to me.
I sigh.
Once again eyes dart to the path. Snow drifts down the slick slope. Sweat freezes within nervous pours. Leather rises. Powder floats gently from the sole of a reluctant foot. Patiently, carefully.
Thud.
Instantly, I scan to the left then to the right. Nothing stirs. Nothing appears and savagely ravages the pack. Nothing riles, besides the weak smack of a man's foot onto snow-speckled ice.
My body shifts forward. The world tilts upwards. The world directs to the heavens above, knowing what awaits is of that which can only be a hellish nightmare. The world leads…and I cannot refuse the urge to follow.
Firmly now, I march up the path. Within seconds, my body shifts around the first bend. Snow lightly tickles the unshaven hairs extending from my cheeks. Freezing, merciless air grips and strangles my strength.
All the feelings intensify as I move. Even my toes feel the pinch of the frost as gaseous ice builds on the ever-turning incline. Occasionally, I pass a metal bridge. Strangely the iron path seems to connect haphazardly to the side and does nothing more than lead to nowhere.
The walk almost feels too easy. There has to be more than this. No way the Lich King is simply allowing us to treed upon his very fortress, upon his very throne without so much of a fight…
We dreamt of fighting, too…
Without warning, the voice churns within my mind. Nervousness consumes my vision as I fidget in my spot. Nathanos throws an awkward glance my way before shaking his own head.
"Did you hear that, too?" I speak firmly, yet spilling fear with every word.
His eyebrows draw downwards as he unwillingly grunts, "Yes, Worm"
A brief pause follows as I attempt to gain my stability, "What is it?"
He swallows harshly, "Worm, there are some things in this world that even someone as magnificent as I does not know."
I make to reply, but a new halts all my efforts.
Your pride will consume you…
An unnatural chill flows through my veins. You are going to have to focus. He is going to have to keep his attention on something else. What can I possible imagine that will stop the Lich King? You are going to have to us your special powers to overcome his lure. He will have to overcome.
You cannot overcome his might. The darkness already has hold.
I do not recognize that voice. Who is that?! That is not the horrific howl of the False God! It sounds as normal as a random commoner; as mundane as a distant friendor lost relative.
We all thought like you…once…
Keep going, Hope. Ignore them.
You cannot hide from the inevitable. You cannot forgo your fate…Hope Blackwood, you shall join the march of the fallen.
No! I am not here to do the Lich King's bidding!
Your father thought similarly…
My fist slams into solid ice. Rage courses my veins. I am not my father!
Goldfish, you have lost your mind!
Sylvanas' words slap the inner sanctum of my skull. I twist to her, but she simply follows slowly. Contortions of her face reveal signs of inner agony. Gentle hands brace the pillar to her side, giving her needed support for whatever occurs within…
Control yourself, Hope! Do not let it the darkness consume you!Tirion's once lost voice showers my senses.
He is not here. Is he? You must ignore them! He must focus! You shall think of all those who are counting on him! He shall remember what must be done for all those waiting!
Frozen fingers dig into the snow. Feet numbly carry the weight of a torn soul. Thoughts crisscross and clutter all areas of my mind. Images of heroes flash in and out of sight like brilliant fleeting memories. Thrall, Wyrnn, Garrosh, Rhonin, heroes from the edges of this planet…
Muradin…
Lad, you betrayed the mercenaries that helped you! Ya'lied to ye'crew. Go home lad, take yer boys home.
Muradin's voice rings loudly, but does not so for me. It is as if he is speaking to another person, communicating a thought from a distant time.
Arthas…go home, lad.
He speaks to Arthas. He speaks to a man lost to the voices in his head. But he speaks to me. He tells me of a lost soul, but warns one heading on the same meandering path.
Hope…remember his face. Remember his eyes. Remember it all vividly and perfectly.
Muradin leads me, and I shall listen where one man failed.
Hope, kill him. Paint a picture of his dying breath with your words.
Energy flows wildly. Feet fight feverishly against slick grains of powdery darkness. It is the same path that was walked long ago. It is the same path treaded by a hero amongst men, and a legend amongst villains. It is the same path Arthas, the man bearing the name of Lich King, lost his humanity.
And today, for all those fighting to live and those living to fight, I march upon the long white mile. Today, I come for you, Arthas, and I come bearing the gifts of a thousand angry souls and the wishes of a few great champions.
The shovel shifts to my fingers. Legs churn energy within like engines brimming with coal. Bend after bend falls to my trekking muscles. The groans of mentally besieged companions follow painfully behind.
I march this path. I march the path of the fallen. And I do so gladly for all those unable. The blade of the Bronzeman shall crack the body of the monster. The Love of Jaina shall guide him to the light. The souls of ones lost to Jessica shall give him aid. And the unyielding spirit of Muradin shall have its revenge…
My lips sunder, and words break freely.
"Arthas Menethil! Son of a fallen king, son of a broken father, son of his damned people, I come for you!"
Thoughts, completely unknown to me, seep from my lips. You know you knew them. He just needed a little help. I sweep one long bend, and suddenly stop. Feet above me a metal ceiling rests. Green sings fear to my soul. Black taint cries agony to my mind.
But I shall not back down now…
"Lich King!" I twist swiftly around a bend. "Today, your champion comes home!"
I turn back to those still willing to follow. And, as I expected, every last warrior that followed up this disconcerting ascension still does so; even as Darion fights his inner demons, and the elegant Sylvanas battles her raging thoughts; even as Nathanos claws at his bony flesh, Carlin beats back the monsters of his nightmares, and Mark throws his might at the horrors of his lonely visage…they all continue onward.
"Lich King, today, for the warriors you killed, the heroes you corrupted, and the lives you stole, your champion comes home."
I smirk, watching those struggling behind.
"With the blade of a Bronzeman, I shall stab your heart, paint your face with vivid paint brushes built of angry vengeance. I shall kill you…and with your dying breath, I shall whisper, 'I love you!'"
Wait…that wasn't right…You were doing so well! He almost had it….
Nathanos looks to me. All anguish fades from his face, and a strange expression of confusion settles in. Eyebrows lower and muscles tense at the outer edges of his jaws.
"Worm…did you just say you love Arthas?"
Carlin glances to Nathanos than smiles at me. Mark chuckles and Darion shakes his head. Sylvanas forms the not smiling, but not frowning expression and glares at me. My throat tenses and I make to speak…
But I am do not say a word…
"CHAMPION, YOUR MASTER AWAITS YOU. COME WITH YOUR PRIDE, YOUR GLORY, AND YOUR HONOR. DO NOT DISAPPOINT ME…"
Instantly, a crack appears in the metallic surface. Gaseous fumes pour from the ever-growing sliver of expanding light. Shovel locks at the ready. The metal swings back quickly upon hinges on the sides.
Dull light washes over us. Terror bathes our souls. Horrific visages fill our thoughts. Cold, chilling images crush our bodies. And as the doors come to a stop, revealing a hazy path upwards, burning energy fuels our relentless spirits.
Without hesitating, I rush tantively forward. Feet cling to dense metal steps. Ice crystals hook to my frozen face. Arms heave a weapon while lungs bellow a battle cry like no other.
The voices of the others ring from below, overwhelming the rumble of their pounding soles. We scurry through the foamy haze and move forward…
I feel my legs cease all movement.
Ahead of us, rests two figures clad in full armor. They stand in the exact center of a large, circular room. A dark, gray glow dulls the true shine of their plate, but gives way for a wafting blue shine the fills the entire space.
Above, rest spikes that flow downward, enveloped by spiraling plumes of illuminated chill. Each metallic spine navigates downwards and points towards the two warriors standing before us.
One is clad in black, sinister armor. Battle scars riddle the left shoulder of the figure while white hair dangles down to his chest. Next to him stands a figure born in beautiful glinting attire.
Streaks of weak light do no justice to the gold chunks of honor and dignity. A white piece of cloth runs the vast of his back and runs to his knees. A torn, black circle rests in the middle of his spine.
Tirion!
I rush forward a few steps and call excitedly.
"Tirion! They said you were here. They said you fought your into the fortress. And look, you can now stand beside us! Arthas stands no chance!"
The man does not move. Carlin, however, shifts in my vision and calls.
"Lord Fordring, stand with us! By the light, we shall prevail."
Nothing...
"Tirion!" A sinister, almost inhuman call radiates from some unseen figure. "Where do you stand? Where is your light?"
The gold figure shakes and begins turning. At the same time the blackened man to his left moves with him.
His voice bellows to us, "I stand amongst the powerful, amongst those dreaming to see."
Part of his voice faces us. Something is not right…
"Amongst the powerful and the mighty."
White hair clings to a gray face. Tirion…
"Tirion Lightbreaker, stands amongst the legions of the master. There is no light. Just a foolish doom that is hope."
Ice clenches my chest. Drums cease within confines of arching bones. Lips peel apart, but no words break from them. Tirion…
"Fordring, what….no!" Carlin cries from my side.
Tirion! A sudden rush of warmth crushes the overwhelming chill. You do not stand against us! You cannot! You…He sees a lie!He sees a fake travesty of a man! He does not believe it!"
Chuckles radiate from the infamous Herald to Tirion's side, "The light has abandoned your greatest of hero." Cackles break his speech briefly, "Tell me, Champion, who can dare stand against the might of the Lich King? You and your pathetic companions will fall. Save yourself the agony and kneel before your god!"
Rage fills the void of my frozen entity. Hatred consumes my soul. Anger agitates the already riled state of my being. You will not stand for this! He will not do so alone! He will have the aid of more than already present! He must focus of the heros, and of the legends. He must remember Tirion's light. He must…release me!
Tirion!
A bright flash pours from the corners of my sight. Shiny radiance fills every darkened corner with a sense of purity. Besides me appears a gray, partially glowing man. A paladin of a battle fought long ago.
"Tirion!" The figure, that is my voice, shouts loudly, "I embraced the dark like a fool! I let it consume my true self!"
A weapon, crafted of solid gray, gleams at the borders with a brilliant glow of white, "You shall stand amongst the light, or you shall walk amongst me in the nether!"
Tirion cackles maliciously and shifts to his side, "Lieutenant, it has been too long. Why waste your energy now? Return to the Master! The power he grants is unimaginable!"
"You fool! I will not let you fall to the same fate I let myself!" He lifts his gray weapon, "Let us show you the true might of the light!"
Carlin pulls the Ashbringer to his front. My second voice, the ghostly paladin, prepares for battle. Darion, Mark, and Sylvanas glare forward, battle hunger coursing through their veins.
A deep laugh bellows across the sky. Tirion quickly strafes in the opposite direction of the Herald. They break a path for our eyes. A long, black route leads to a short rising set of steps. Four, thick, malicious steps lead to a sinister figure resting against a massive throne crafted out of solid ice.
Blue flames trickles from its eyes. Spikes, crafted of skulls and death, rise from a gray helmet. White hair clings to a metallic chest built from iniquity's design. Skulls, twisted and evil, adorn the massive shoulders of the monster; cover the boots, knees, belt, and gloves of the horrific being.
The Lich King…
His arms rest upon the throne, one gripping the ice, the other the blade known as Frostmourne. Dark flames lick the air and drag from the finely constructed weapon. It is the man of my nightmares, and the terror of my reality.
Suddenly, he shifts in his hellish throne. Metal creaks and leather screeches as all realign to the rising man. He stands much taller than I envisioned. Fear slowly crawls back into my veins, but I must overcome!
"Champions of the Light!" The inhuman reverberation that is the Lich King's voice calls to us, "I welcome you to the beginning of my ever-lasting reign!"
He stands elevated, armor draping every inch of his sinister being. Frostmourne rests at his side, hanging down to his feet and throne steps.
"You all came, heroes destined for greatness!" He cackles, emitting sounds similar to that of shattering ice, "But, like myself, all you will find…is revelation."
Tirion and Jon shuffle before us, dragging large blades to an aggressive stance. All those surrounding me, lift weapons and lock for combat. Distant, thudding sounds ring the march of a thousand dead. It almost sounds as if armies are shifting outside these very walls.
And with the King's very words, my thoughts become reality.
"The mighty champions below shall be consumed, devoured by my legions, just as you shall. Today…" he leans upon his blade, "…we all become one. In the name of the Lich King."
My glowing eyes pierce forward, spewing torrents of bright light from them as they do. The Lich King fills my sight. The Lich King focuses within my mind. He becomes the only concern…
You are wrong, False God. Today, Lich king…
It ends.