Epilogue

The end is not far anymore.

It won't take too long until I will get my long anticipated revenge. Bittersweet justice for all what has happened.

But still... the shadows of Icecrown bear many more dangers I have yet to face. The new champion of the Lich King - the Deathbringer, the most horrid abominations and their twisted creator, the Blood Queen - empress of the San'layn, and the queen of frostwyrms, Sindragosa.

Surely none of these opponents should be taken light-heartedly.

As we ventured on through the citadel our efforts came to a sudden stop - at least for the moment. The door to the higher levels heavily barricaded, it surely will take some time to break through.

On our way there, the Lich King never held back with sending cannon-fodder at us. And I wasn't too upset with that at all... Shadow's Edge grew stronger with every soul it devoured.

Yet I didn't focus on that, not at all for my own ghosts were haunting me once more.

As my runeblade feeds upon the fallen enemies, the images of long lost friends and my family flash in front of my inner eye.

My father and mother

Corren

Keira

Darnys

Even Calystea

Every one of them was hurt, if not worse, because of the Scourge ...because of me.

I feel guilty for everything that happened to them, a justified feeling concerning at least some of them.

Thus I have devoted myself to revenge, to relentless hatred for the one that inflicted all this pain upon the ones that I loved and ultimately upon me. I have told myself only his death would bring an end to my suffering and the torment of so many others.

But one question, I should have asked myself at least once but didn't, remained: Is death really the end?

Am I not myself the example that death might as well only be a new beginning in these crooked times?

Also, shouldn't it be fairly easy to find somebody new to place on the Frozen Throne as the herald of death?

And: am I next in line on the way there?

Am I heading directly for my own damnation? Again?

Once Shadow's Edge will be completed, it won't be any different to Frostmourne.

It was created from the same desire that also led Arthas onto the search for his runeblade many winters ago. This path is cursed, cast out by the light. And I can already feel how I am getting bound to the axe with every enemy that falls to the blade. On the other hand, I already knew what would await me, what fate was bestowed upon Arthas Menethil after fulfilling his quest.

I don't want to become what I've hated the most.

I beg that the portraits drawn in crimson blood of those that I loved within my heart will restrain me from venturing into my own demise yet again.

It has always been clear that there was no glory awaiting neither the heir of Frostmourne, nor the wielder of Shadowmourne, the soul-devouring sisterblades.

Yet a faint shadow of hope remains in my forlorn heart.

I, the lone wolf, forsaken by the light, might be the one bearing the fate of all of Azeroth in my hands.

Neither part of the Alliance, nor affiliated with the Horde, I stand alone against the prevailing darkness within the frozen wastes of Northrend and my own rotten heart.

Some people say a real hero dies alone.

Luckily for me: I'm not a hero.