~* Author's Notes *~

I tried something new I learned in my writing class: What if you're opening scene is at the end of the climactic conflict? In testing this I cut out a page long fight scene.

I cannot decide if I want to recton Michael's age or just make him a person who doesn't care about lying to the Scarlet about his age in order to gain cooperation. This detail will get sorted out in the revision process at some other time.

This chapter has two titles because was originally three chapters rolled into one. I kept the original title despite alterations mentioned in the above note.

~*~ Chapter 60 ~*~

~ The Overlook ~

Salira cradles the broken body of an orphan child and sobs softly. Around her dozens of living children stand side by side with the dozens of undead children. Each set of eyes, glowing and unglowing, are downcast in a moment of silence. The child takes a ragged breath. Softly Michael brushes back the hair from her face. The feel of a cold hand on her hot cheek brings her eyes up to meet that of the RazorWing guild master.

Softly he says, "You have a choice now. You can die and we will burn your body so that your soul goes into the Light to be with your family. Or you can die and we will bring you back as Forsaken. You will have friends forever and Tirisfal Glade will be your home. Nothing will ever hurt you again."

The Druid is silently crying, sitting beside Salira and holding the child's hand. It happened so fast that none of them could react. The Scarlets are hardened from the moment they come into service to ignore the faces which they may recognize amongst the undead. This child had no such training. Upon seeing an uncle or cousin or father she had rushed out, delighted for a moment to see she did have family in this world. A strong hand wrapped around her little wrist and teeth met flesh. Confusion. Pain.

It was over now, the undead all defeated, stacked and burning in a pile behind the house. The Frostfire were experts at charring flesh to dust and cinder-bone. The little child lay gasping for her life, infection already consuming her body as the plague ravaged her. A thick mucus formed at the corner of her mouth and the corners of her eyes. She looked at Michael's yellow, sunken skin and the pink, living faces around her.

"I want to go home." Her eyes slid shut, a deep rattle sounding. The breath of life whispers out her nose. She's gone.

The Scarlet woman's chin quivered as she looked towards the pile of flaming former human bodies. "There has to be another way. I can't just throw her on the fire like that. She deserves better."

"She doesn't want to be undead." The Quel'dorie child had this conversation with plenty of others. "You must let us burn the body. There is no other way to stop her turning."

The druid's heart pained her for a moment as the tragic warrior handed over the small, limp body. She agreed with salira; there had to be another way. Burning the victim in the same pile as the attacker just spat on the memory of her small light. Kayas didn't even know her name: she doubted anyone did. "Perhaps I can help?"

The Quel'dorie looked at her under white bangs as if she'd rather eat the body than let a Kaldorei get their hands on it. Especially a druid. Being Forsaken did not make her any less a High Elf than the day she died. "She is not a low elf. She is human, and Scarlet. They burn their dead, all of them."

Kayas knelt down in front of the small elfin girl and looked her in the eyes, "Is it because I am Kaldorei that you do not wish to let me voice a second option, or because you are truly trying to honor the wishes of humans?"

When the Frostfire leader could not speak about her complete innocence Kayas stood and gently took the body of the child. She was warm and wet with blood. The druid laid her down under the biggest of the nearby. In the Kaldorei fashion the body would be undressed and no earthy possession would go to the ground with them. As it was the child was human and would probably like to have some clothing in the afterlife.

Kayas stood, focused her energy on the tree before her and tapped the power within. Seconds latter the tree awoke from it's slumber. The spirit looked back at her from within the bark, asked what she wanted. Communicating her desire to the tree she spoke her solemn wishes. The tree responded in kind. It was weak, hibernating for a time when the ground would be clean and it could grow once more, but this it could do.

Kayas began to sing a song in the old tongue of her people. Older than Teldrasil; older than Fandaral Staghelm; older even than Azshara. The song's lyrics were unknown, but every child of the stars learned the song from their birth, with perfect annunciation and perfect rhythm. The words slipped form her lips, a song of death and rebirth and life again. A song of renewal and of regrowth. A song of dying and decay and the blessings of the soil which is fertilized by the bodies of the ancestors.

"What is she doing?" Salira asked the Quel'dorie child.

The girl was silent for a moment, listening. Finally she said, "She is singing the body into the ground. It is how elves bury our dead."

"You didn't..."

"I cannot."

Kayas understood then, even as she sang and focused on feeding the body to the ground, that the Quel'dorei had not only been ethnocentric but jealous. As the ground began to quake slightly, liquify and part around the body, the little druid felt a surge of happiness. Infected, yes, but not undead. Not Forsaken. Not a subject of the Banshee Queen, not really. She was still whole, still a Kaldorei Druid of the wild, still a child of Elune. The body began to sink, roots of the tree coming up to close over the pale form, pulling it into the black depths of the earth. Kayas sung her song, a gift to the tree, an everlasting reminder that every living thing is connected to every other living thing. Death is a part of life.

Salira is awed by the sight, hands clasped together in silent prayer. When the druid is finished and the body has vanished into the ground, becoming one with the earth which bore it, she turns to the Scarlet warrior. "The tree takes the body in exchange for the song. The trees like it when we understand the great mystery."

"Great mystery?" the tired woman asks.

"That we are all related. What affects me will affect you in turn, and vice verse."

Salira thinks about this for a moment. "The plague can affect high elves then it can affect night elves. We need you to help us find a cure."

"Who is 'we'? The compound is gone. Are you still Scarlet?" Kayas gestured to the Angles standing behind her, "If so then these children are you enemy, and yet you fought beside them today because you want Arthas dead just as much as them."

"You sidestepped my question, druid." Salira narrowed her eyes but did not force the issue. What recourse did she have for a druid who was clearly not interested in helping put an end to Scourge tyranny? "And you are wrong: these children were never my enemy. Once upon a time they were my army, in fact. They died, they rose and they continued fighting."

"Um... come again?"

Michael interjected, "A story for another time, perhaps?"

Salira blinked, remembering she was not the only veteran of the Scourge Wars. Her status as living did not give her more entitlement to share sad stories or wail in distress anymore than it did the Forsaken children around her. "Right," she said, "we need to warm the living and fortify this position. It may be cursed but it's the best we've got." Looking at the Angels she picked out a lot of familiar faces. "We've done this before. You know what to do."

"By your orders, Ma'am. My guild and I are at your service." Michael and the Quel'dorei child both bowed formally. Apparently Salira was in charge now?

~ The Scarlet Enclave ~

"She hasn't left Tirisfal yet. I sent the Frostfire to find her and bring her back." The Dark Lady and the Commander were in heated conversation. Around them smoke billowed. The Underground mages were gifted in fire magic, easily able to get the angry, living flame under control. Suddenly losing them from the battle had turned the tide in the Scourge favor for a few moments. That was until those healed by the druid's massive spell picked themselves up and rejoined the fight.

"It is imperative to finding a cure for this plague that we get that thing back at once!" Commander Hillburn was stripping off heavy armor and throwing it in a pile with the rest. It was so dented, dinged and banged up it became uncomfortable to wear. As comfortable as armor ever was, anyhow.

Mr. Meows had managed to pick himself up out of the mud and limp over to an empty tack stall and park himself in the doorway. The damp straw was preferable to whatever he would be licking out of his fur latter on. Scourge have an awful taste. The Dark Lady reclined against her kitty, petting and petting and petting, running fingers all through his mane and down his shoulders. The two snuggled and crooned and made kissy noises. The Commanders scowled and huffed to see it but he said nothing. The giant cat had a bigger price on it's head that even Serz Huzad, the Scarlet not knowing which was more valuable to the Dark Lady.

"I don't trust your … minions... to this task. I want to go after her myself."

The Banshee Queen looks up at him and smiles sweetly, "I can't get out that door so neither are you." As soon as the druid disappeared through the opening in the wall the white priestess erected the shield to prevent the scourge from following. Only the Death Knight manged not to get caught inside it. The Forsaken were also trapped and at the moment the priestess was perched safely on the wall and refusing to come down. The Dark Lady had asked oh-so-nicely.

"What of the living and dead on all sides? What is to be done with them?"

"The Forsaken are mine, the rest you can have." She smiled at him as if it would make his day to be gifted an enclave full of Scourge. "Send the Scourge into the fire. Or just sit here and let the flames find them." The thirteen angry fire-creatures were currently running amuck and eating non-Forsaken undead like candy filled with boiling blood.

The Underground undead vanished into the flames after the Scourge were defeated in the main warzone. The flames did not burn them so they were free to move as they pleased. Only Karloff came back to report on their finds. Each section of the compound was being combed through carefully, seeking out traitors and allies alike and bringing them forward. He presented the Dark Lady with over two-dozen broken necklaces. She took them, whispered a name and smiled.

"That rogue of yours?" The Commander had his own smile when she glanced up in surprise. "You aren't the only one who has more than two ears."

The conversation could have gone in the direction of Andorhal and Murder Row, and how much diluted certain bloodlines can be while still carrying the name of the original bloodline, but they were interrupted by loud clanging and piles of loot were dropped at the Banshee Queen's feet.(1) The defeated Scourge had been stripped of all usable valuables and were being fed to the angry living flames. Somewhere in the compound were screams as living traitors were chased down by additional hungry flames.

The Dark Lady was fair, so to speak. She gave the loot out equally to all who fought during the battle, not favoring her own troops over those of the Commanders'. The Commander wound up with a new belt and wrist guards and one of the civilian fighters received an intact set of reigns that belonged to one of the unmounted Scourge horses.

The horses in question were grazing on the charred bodies of the victims of the livestock yards. Once unmounted the horses became benign, the same as the Dark Lady's own warhorse, and could be approached. The civilian went to find his new horse, intent on riding it non-stop to the nearest patch of green land and never coming back.

After the loot was divide up, traitors brought forth an executed, Scourge bodies burned and someone manged to corner the Dark Lady's own mount somewhere it couldn't escape, Serz Huzad approached his Queen.

He swept into an impressive bow, rumpled rags flowing, "Might I quarry something, my Lady?"

The Dark Lady crossed her arms and leaned into the sleeping feline once more, "Quarry away."

"Just... how big of a price do you have on my head?" He sounded distressed, like a child who was trying to confess to mommy that he broke her favorite ax, "The Commander had said but surely it cannot be true? "

The Dark Lady just smiled, red eyes glinting. When she didn't answer Serz merely bowed and inquires where to find his ward. When he was told that both Kaldorei had exited the compound some while ago he looked alarmed, which caused the Dark Lady to laugh. "Go, find them. See if you can do better convincing that Druid of what she needs to do than either of us did." That she compared herself and the Commander as both failing to the task the Commander took exception.

"Greatly I would like to leave, my lady, but you see... the shield..."

The Dark Lady orders the white priestess to release the shield long enough for "Sean of Darrowshire" to leave. For less than two seconds the shield shimmers open and the warlock runs out, looking very silly trying to hold his tattered robes above his knees so they don't get muddy. The shield shimmers close.

The Dark Lady sighed, wondering who would acquiesce to who's demands faster – her or the Monastery's former High Inquisitor.

~ Author's Notes ~

1). n Soviet Azeroth, raid bosses come to you.