Chapter 9: A Lesson in Damnation (Part Two)

Jaina sits at her desk in her room, resting her head on her arms as she watches her undead rat scurry around on the desk. Waking up that morning to find it on her bed staring at her had gotten it flung across the room, a reflexive lightning bolt barely missing it and singeing the wall. After calming her beating heart she'd picked it up and set it down to observe. It was... odd. To feel it. It was kind of like her connection to the water and fire elementals she'd summoned for combat. A passive side awareness. The rat wasn't what she expected, and honestly confused her.

There was no flesh eating hunger.

No malice nor hatred nor hostility.

Maybe it was because it registered her as an ally? But... from what she feels...

There was a flicker of mild curiosity that she imaged is natural for the rodent. Poking around, sniffing, pawing at things. It gets close to the edge of the desk, then turns and scurries back to her, a flicker of a pull between them. It peers up at her with its glowing eyes, then it scampers off and repeats. Its a mockery of a rat, an imitation of what it once, unnatural and wrong. Yet...

There is no desire in the rat itself to naturally do anything but try to be a rat.

"Because there was no will nor intent to do so with your creation of it," comes the Lich King's voice, "You reanimated the rat simply to do so, with no further desire behind it."

Jaina purses her lips at the unwelcome voice in her mind, but knows there's nothing she can do about it. "Do zombies not naturally attempt to eat people?"

She gets an amused huff from the Lich King. "You make the assumption that there is a natural state for something like a zombie. There are certain states of undeath that can happen somewhat on their own, ghosts and other spirits of the like are the more common, and those depend on a variety of factors in how they interact with the living, if they do at all. A corpse reanimating is not something that simply happens on its own. It requires magic, power of some sort, to interact with it, and that comes with intent, with a shape to its form behind it. Anything reanimated with the Plague of Undeath with no further intent behind it will be a mindless corpse with hunger and hatred for the living imposed upon it for that is how this plague was designed."

Jaina frowned. "But I reanimated the rat..."

She gets a sensation of mocking amusement from her enslaver. "Reanimating something with necromantic magic is not the same as reanimating something with the Plague of Undeath. Were the Necrolytes and Death Knights of the First and Second War part of the Scourge? Were they bound to my will?"

Jaina tilts her head thoughtfully. "No. They weren't. How is the Scourge linked then? Because if a necromancer reanimates something, it should be bound to them, not to you, if I understand this correctly."

"Indeed," he agreed, a tint of approval in his tone at her understanding, "Those bound to my will, either through undeath, through loyalty forced, or by swearing themselves to me, are linked to my power and will. Infused with mere specs of my power which binds them, and their creations, to me. Their reanimations are connected to both myself and them. As the driving force behind the Scourge I can overtake control from a necromancer if need be, but otherwise it is their natural focus and the focus of their reanimator that drive the mindless masses."

So why wasn't it acting normally then for something reanimated from someone bound to the Lich King?

She gets a sigh from the Lich King, her thoughts apparently loud, before the rat's necromantic green eyes shift to an unholy blue. It squeaks at her and lunges, trying to bite at her. She flicks her wrist and sends it flying backwards off the table, where its blue eyes fade back to a normal green. It squeaked in confusion before it scurried back towards her and repeated its earlier wanderings.

"Kel'Thuzad, for all that you loath him, has been rather vocal in his support for you and your young prince," advised the Lich King, "As such, when he suggested a more... observant approach to my interactions with you for the time being, I chose to heed his advice. The rat defaulted to you because I am not active in our connection unless you give me a reason to be for the time being."

Observant. That's what he's called it between them thus far?

"I could show you how I usually handle those who would disobey and defy me if you prefer."

Jaina's jaw clenches and she grits out. "That wont be necessary."

He laughs darkly, and she jumps a little, feeling like he had been right behind her when he did, breath on her neck. But there is nothing. She swallows back her discomfort and focuses on an oddity. "Why would Kel'Thuzad be 'supportive' as you said?"

She gets a flicker of disinterest from him. "For all he is my most favored, he is still so pitiably mortal. He was once a child of Lordaeron. His loyalty is first and foremost to me, but even I find myself surprised by the flare of it he has for the young Prince, enough to wish to ease the boy's recruitment into the Scourge. He, like you, was once a member of the Kirin Tor, and like you, cast out by them. Perhaps he sees some of himself in you. It doesn't particularly matter."

Jaina bristles. "I am nothing like Kel'Thuzad."

Ner'Zhul laughs. "Aren't you? He was a mage, like you. He is powerful, filled with potential, like you. He has a thirst for knowledge, like you, and is not afraid to reach for it, like you. He did not let such trifle things like rules or the dictations of his peers stop him, like you. He first sought the darker arts of magic to protect the Kirin Tor and Lordaeron, to further their cause, and his own understanding of magic. I wonder how much knowledge and power you sought for similar desires, hmm? I wonder... had you my voice in your mind speaking and guiding you, would you have taken the trek north he did after Antonidas gave his ultimatum?"

She gasps as his presence bore down on her, causing her to clutch the desk for support as her body shook. "Do not delude yourself Proudmoore. From the moment I started observing you when you stepped foot upon Northrend, I saw darkness in you. Something harsh and bitter. The only difference between you and him was timing, opportunity, and what brought you into my grasp. His was the pursuit of knowledge, yours was your prince."

He releases his grip on her. "Get your sustenance and then report to Kel'Thuzad for your lessons."

She grudgingly obeys, sitting across from Deathwhisper when she reaches the cafeteria. Though, she isn't alone today. High Cultist Blaumeux sits next to Deathwhisper, Fearlina across from her. Jaina hesitates briefly before sliding in next to the eventual-Grand Widow. The young woman briefly looks at Jaina before refocusing on eating the goop they offer for food.

"Acolyte Proudmoore," greets Blaumeux, "I hear Kel'Thuzad had nothing but praise for your initial lesson."

"Gossip?" said Jaina dryly.

Blaumeux grinned, eyes glinting. "Preparation for our next steps is necessary, along with downtime for the living portion of the Scourge. Needed, if but... boring. You are certainly one of the more entertaining additions to the Scourge. I do hope you continue to be fun."

Jaina gives her an unimpressed look, giving out a scathing, "I'm glad to be of entertainment."

"The higher ups gamble on you," said Fearlina in a quiet voice.

"Come now dear, don't spoil the fun," chided Blaumeux.

Jaina blinks. "Gamble? On what?"

Fearlina fidgets under both woman's gazes. "...on how long it will take you to break or willingly submit to the path we must walk."

Jaina bristles.

"Oh don't be so offput dear," soothed Blaumeux mockingly, "Most of us were bet against at one point. Some who haven't been scourged yet even have bets on them."

Her grin turns a touch malicious. "Especially the paladins. There a few of those holier than thou bastards I can't wait to see grovel. Their precious light never saved any of us, nor will it save them."

Jaina schooled her face, considering the bare hint of bitterness underneath the malice. "Dare I ask what bets are placed against me?"

"Now that would spoil the fun," teased Blaumeux, "It also varies depending on how you define break or willingness. Why, despite her prowess, even young Fearlina here still has a touch unwillingness to her. Mostly she needs to simply get over her squeamishness."

Fearlina scowled at her. "Yes, well, coming from being a botanist to chopping up body parts for abominations among other things is a bit of a shock."

"I suppose," mused Blaumeux, "Though when you finally let go, you will be so beautifully destructive."

Fearlina exhales in frustration and looks down at her bowl, shoveling another bite in. Jaina watches with a bit of curiosity. Its... well, obviously few people start as completely unrepentant monsters. Its jarring though, to see this reluctant cultist compared to the insane Grand Widow that eventually makes Naxxramas her home. Jaina looks down at her own bowl and wonders what would have happened to Fearlina and those like her if the expedition has successfully destroyed the Lich King. Would they have cast off the damnation tightening around their throat and ran? Tried to reclaim their original lives?

It feels like yet another failure, yet another person Jaina failed to save...

"Speaking of which, Deathwhisper you haven't given your bet yet on our young acolyte here," teased Blaumeux.

Jaina wonders if its odd she finds comfort in how unimpressed Deathwhisper seems with Blaumeux?

Deathwhisper speaks dryly. "I have better things to do then waste time antagonizing allies, whether they be unwilling or otherwise."

"Tch, coddling?"

"Hardly," said Deathwhisper, scoffing, "When are you returning to Naxxramas so that we may be free of you?"

"As soon as the damage is fixed," said Blaumeux, waggling an eyebrow at Jaina, "Turns out trying to crush something in a giant fist of ice requires repairs, who knew?"

Jaina gives a lazy smile in return, not hiding the pleasure and vindication from the act. "Yes, who knew if you gave someone trying to destroy you a ridiculous infusion of power that they would try to destroy you with it?"

In all honestly, with Frostmourne and the power of the Lich King flowing through her at that moment, she considers if she had been as powerful, if not more, than she had been before she came back in time. It had been... unreal. Little to no emotions, no morality, just duty to see her task done. Nothing had held her back in that moment, and she wonders if she could have full fledge destroyed Naxxramas if she hadn't been so focused on trying to get at the Lich King. She wonders how powerful she would have been if she had that power at her peak...

No, those thoughts are best left unconsidered, except that she needs the Lich King dead before she gets even close to that level of strength again.

"Who knew indeed," said Blaumeux, rolling her eyes, "We all could have done without the psychic backlash from you attacking the Lich King. That headache lasted far to long."

"My sincerest apologies."

Fearlina snickered.

Blaumeux huffed. "Come Fearlina, we have many new bodies to use in a few rituals thanks to a foolish expedition our newest acolyte and her prince brought to us. Lets be on our way."

Jaina's jaw clenched, and she really, really wants to kill the eventual Shadow Horseman of Naxxramas. She quiets the thought when she feels the Lich King's presence flicker in warning.

"Finish up Proudmoore," said Deathwhisper, "And I will take you to Kel'thuzad. I believe he mentioned a proposition for you today to encourage your progress."

Jaina frowns, wondering what is in store for her today, and shovels down the last of her mushy food. She follows Deathwhisper back to the same room as yesterday. Kel'thuzad has every dissection she had done yesterday laying across multiple slabs. She has a hunch what he wants her to do.

Kel'thuzad nods briefly to Deathwhisper, an unsaid dismissal, and regards Jaina. "Today, you will be practicing reanimation. Your first attempt was nigh flawless, I intend to make sure you can repeat that performance on demand, to make such an act reflexive in nature, without even needing thought. If you can manage these with similar results, we will advance to more... intricate animations. So, we will begin with a brief review of yesterday's lesson."

He wiggles two fingers, and the book from yesterday levitates over and opens itself on a desk. Jaina sits down, but doesn't immediately begin review. "Deathwhisper mentioned a proposition."

Kel'thuzad hummed. "I have several goals for you today, Acolyte, ranging from expected, to impressive, to extraordinary. You will eventually learn everything I wish to teach you, but learn them both quickly and skillfully..."

He considers her for a moment. "The first time you will be allowed to meet Prince Arthas again is the first time you successfully re-animate a human with their full, or near full, intellect and awareness intact. You will get once chance to try this at the end of today's lesson, consider this motivation to excel."

Jaina bristled, seeing how it was. Damn herself more and get rewarded for it. She isn't so ignorant that she didn't recognize this was coming anyway. She hates so much that this is her life now, but reanimating a sentient being was always going to happen from the moment the Lich King enslaved her and decided to force her to be a necromancer.

"I see," is all she says before refocusing and reviewing...

Kel'thuzad watches with minor approval as one by one Proudmoore reanimates the animals they dissected yesterday. The problem with perfection, he mused to himself, is if you get it once, it becomes expected of you, even if the first time was but a fluke. Oh, her reanimations are excellent, better then the sloppy barely useable attempts of normal uninfused acolytes by far, but with perhaps less quick responsiveness than the rat had. Of course, a rat is a small, simple thing. A bear however is bigger, more mass to push one's magic through. Its limbs drags a bit, it shuffles forward sluggishly and he notes that she observes that herself.

She frowns at it. "Hm."

"The smaller animals are simple, easy things," he explains to her, moving to stand aside her, robes swooshing along the floor, "You do them with a simple bolt of energy and intent, but the bear is bigger, pushing the same amount of energy..."

"Isn't enough," said Jaina, nodding, "I have to hold the intent and energy until it finishes."

She tilts her head, ever the curious scholar. "What happens if I keep pushing in energy after its fully animated?"

That gets a wry smile out of Kel'thuzad. "A good question, Acolyte. Allow me to answer with another, what does overloading a spell normally do?"

She raises an eyebrow. "That largely depends on what kind of spell you are trying to do. A purely offensive spell, assuming it isn't of delicate construction or ritual based, will be more powerful, but obviously costs more energy. Anything requiring finesse is likely to blow up in your face unless you can craft a way to empower your spell safely."

He wonders mildly how much experience she has doing so, as for the question, she both is and isn't correct in where her thoughts lead. "What does this tell you then?"

"If I push to much energy into a reanimation, it will either fail, explode, or have some unforeseen side effect most likely," she mused, frowning, eyes distant, "Maybe the reanimation goes wrong in some way."

If he had to guess, she was trying to search her memory for any such instances she may have witnessed. "There is another effect you might not realize, that is far more likely."

She frowned. "Like what?"

"Like your energy spilling out of your spell and contaminating the area. This can result in a variety of things, accidental additional but weaker reanimations, necromantic energy seeping into the ground and defiling the area, you get the idea," he advised, "When necromancers go for larger casts, they are generally trying to reanimate multiple things at once, though sometimes they are trying to spread the energy into the environment."

She narrowed her eyes at him for a long moment. "...that first part, does that have anything to do with the Blight?

Oh, very good Proudmoore. "How much may I tell her?"

The Lich King barely acknowledges the question. "She is bound to me."

Kel'thuzad supposes that is an answer in itself. Who is Proudmoore going to tell? "The Plague of Undeath was a creation of the Lich King himself. It bears his power and tears at life, but especially human life."

"Hates us that much does he?"

"Oh, he hates most living rather equally," mused Kel'thuzad, "Humanity merely had the unfortunate fate of being in his way towards his goals."

Baring of course that Ner'Zhul was once an Orc and may still be a bit angry over the defeat of the Horde and the destruction of his homeworld. Though considering he was responsible for his own planet's destruction and transformation into Outland...

He cleared his throat. "Now, the Plague seeps necromantic energy into anything it touches, but not just any necromantic energy, but his energy specifically. His version of undeath, his plague, is unique solely to him. You are aware of the demons, yes? I did try to warn you of them."

That gets a flicker of attention from Ner'Zhul. Kel'thuzad ever so carefully pushes a snippet of the conversation he had at Andorhal baring the warning of Frostmourne of course. "I attempted to align them against the demons early."

The reprimand is instant, and Kel'Thuzad has to struggle not to physically show pain. "Tread carefully Kel'thuzad, I will not risk the demons becoming aware of our plotting because of your pitiful mortal affection for your Prince. If any of them had been present to hear those words, everything would have been ruined."

"I... apologize, I will clear such things with you in the future first, I overstepped."

"You did," confirmed the Lich King, but nothing more was said.

"I said yes, Kel'thuzad," said Jaina with a snippy tone.

"I was conversing with the Lich King over what to tell you," he half-lied smoothly, before reconfirming, "May I?"

The Lich King grunts an affirmative, but nothing else.

"The Lich King was bound to his current form by the demons," continued Kel'thuzad, "As such, the plague uses both necromantic energy, demonic energy, and the Lich King's own personal twist to it to give its current form. This combination is why you will find no cure for it, no salvation. It is both from our world, and otherworldly, at the same time."

Jaina tilts her head thoughtfully. "...its the last that is most important out of it, that makes it incurable, isn't it? You could deal with the necromantic energy, you could even deal with demonic energy, but its the way he twists it all together that makes it so unbelievably dangerous. You can burn away the Blight, burn away his power, but not cure it."

Its always jarring, when the Lich King attention is so suddenly on him, then in him, sweeping away control in the span of an instant. He is once again a puppet as words not his own pour from his mouth, a glow of malicious blue seeping out of his eyes. "You are a clever little thing, Proudmoore. One day, I am going to enjoy picking through your mind to see what makes it work."

Jaina stiffens. "You need a hobby that isn't stalking me, Lich King."

Dark amusement tickles through the link to the Lich King. "I keep an eye on the things that belong to me, Proudmoore, that includes you."

Her jaw clenches, but she wisely doesn't bite back at the Lich King. His master takes his leave of control, a hiss in the back of his mind. "What a vexing thing she is, I am ever so curious to examine and study the shields she uses to guard her mind so."

It is something he is rather curious himself. His own shielding relies a bit on the Lich King's own arrogance and dismissiveness. He could not deny the Lich King if he demanded absolute entry and knew where to look, but that's the thing, why would the Lich King care to waste time picking through his supposed trusted servant's mind in depth looking for carefully hidden memories? How is it Jaina has hidden anything from the one she is bound to? He is not entirely confident in retaining his secrets when he becomes a Lich. He is aware that she threatened to drive herself mad with her shields if they shattered, but she is bound to the Lich King, it should not matter when he can will her to grant him entry.

"How can she possibly shield herself from you?" posed Kel'thuzad.

"Its a clever thing," mused the Lich King, voice oddly considerate, "Its not that she shields her entire mind, but things she deems of significance. It is a two part-shield of differing intents linked together. One part is a simple mechanism, a heavy seal linking her deepest secrets to the cornerstones of her mind. Break the lock break her mind. It is the other part that I will grudgingly admit draws my admiration in its cleverness if I understand it correctly."

The Lich King continues. "The second part of her shields is not about stopping my controlling her, but instead on preserving certain secrets while allowing the rest to fall asway, and this is where its design fascinates me. For according to my will, my power, my magic, she is not withholding from me nor resisting my control, and yet she is. Her thoughts bleed in and out of focus whenever she has thoughts that connect to whatever lurks behind her locked shield. I will glean thoughts that have portions missing, that annoy and yet intrigue me. I suspect, in that by allowing my ability to control her to flow through her uncontested, it deceives the spellwork binding her to me. The theory behind this is remarkable, that she crafted such a thing so quickly... I'd say such a thing should take years of intense and careful study, and at least some knowledge of how my control works."

Well, she did have years to craft such mental defenses, years to question the Forsaken or the freed undead who joined the Argent Dawn and Crusade about their enslavement. Perhaps even interrogating captured cultists. He is very curious about trying to adapt such a concept to his own mind...

"Her memories as well," murmurs the Lich King, "I am steadily sifting through them when she sleeps, and yet, I can find no place where she has learned what she has shown, and even if such moments were blocked, one would think such blocks would stand out, would bring me against that blunt lock of hers, and yet despite their age her memories are seamless. She is puzzling and fascinating."

Oh Jaina, she needs to be so careful. All the pieces are there for the Lich King to pick up, he just hasn't connected the dots. Her mere existence as it is and what she represents is a puzzle the Lich King will not stop trying to unravel...

He refocuses when he notices her cutting her connection to the undead bear, letting it flop to the ground. He stands back and watches as she intentionally overloads the reanimation, necrotic green energy seeping into the air around the bear, fading off in the distance. Gone in sight, but settling down through the air onto the floor. The bear moves acceptably after that, though reanimating something multiple times has the tendency to wear and degrade them if certain precautions are not taken. He mentions it, but merely gets a distracted nod back.

Her eyes are on the floor around the bear, a slight frown on her face.

"Did you not believe me?" he poses.

"I did, but I wanted to see, to feel it, for myself," she murmurs.

Most likely to see if she could mitigate her own castings. Ironically, mastering her necromantic casting to that level where nothing leaks out would put her around his level of necromancy, which he muses is the goal. He supposes then its time to truly fail his promise to his King. "Do you wish to review, or shall we move onto your first human reanimation?"

In that moment, when he looks at her, he sees so much. The rage, the fury, the anger. The contempt, the hatred, the loathing. The fear, the horror, the helpless resignation. "Its not like I'll be given a choice."

"Oh, but you are," mused Kel'Thuzad, "You could refuse, and then the Lich King could puppet around your body to suite his whims, and he will not be kind in what he has you do as punishment for the defiance."

She glares at him, and he softens his voice, "I do not say this to be needlessly cruel, Jaina, I do not give these lessons out of sadistic delight. We are allies now, reluctant on your part or not. My words are as much a warning as they are advice: Make your damnation your own, or resist and suffer. You may think you have an idea of it, but there are not words for what it would be like to truly incur the Lich King's wrath as someone bound to him. You have advantages here that most do not that give you a leg up in the Scourge Hierarchy, and you were correct when you assumed the Lich King desires Arthas's willingness as we made that rather obvious. But Jaina?"

He walks close and tilts his head down to lock eyes. "That will only extend so far."

He turns and walks over to an empty slab, reaching out mentally to order a few skeletons to bring in a few corpses. "I was in a similar position to you once..."

She scoffed. "As if you didn't choose this willingly, regardless of what you spewed at us in Andorhal."

Kel'Thuzad smiles to himself in amusement. "Ah, but I did not lie. I did not know about the demons when I first came to the Lich King, nor did I even understand the true nature of the Scourge nor its purpose. I was a foolish man, bitter of my banishment from Dalaran by those I had considered allies, who did not heed my advice in learning and using Necromancy to combat our foes. I had not even considered the notion of forcing compliance from enemy undead, let alone the use of a magical plague of undeath. I remember when I first witnessed..."

He distantly thinks of that first jail cell in Naxxramas Anub'Arak had taken him to on his Road to Damnation, so many years ago, watching the wife and husband, one infected and dying, the other not. The wife's death, turning, leaping on her husband, chewing and tearing and feasting and mewling as she did so, unable to stop herself...

He shakes his head. "I suppose it doesn't matter anymore. At any rate, I was in too deep by the time I passed the point of no return, and when I was brought to the Lich King, he made it very, very clear how any notion of usurping him was... foolish."

"How so?" Jaina posed boldly, mockingly.

"With nothing more than sheer mental power, he forced me to crawl to him on my hands and knees, and I was not bound as you are," he said, shoulders rolling briefly with discomfort at the memory of being the focus of both Ner'Zhul's ire and desire, "At that point Jaina, I cut my losses and threw myself into service."

"I'd rather have died," she said flatly.

He gives her an unimpressed look. "We both know that wouldn't have stopped the Lich King in claiming your or my service."

"Not if I had incinerated my body as I went," she rebutted.

Kel'Thuzad smiles at the naivety. "Oh Jaina, why do you think that would have stopped him from claiming you?"

Her face blanks out after a moment of confusion, uncertainty in her eyes.

She was still so ignorant. Ner'Zhul was not Arthas. His King had gained raw power and mobility to be sure, and the allegiance of the Vrykul, but he had also lost something that the original Lich King had in being a psychic-magical entity, in being freed from the prison that the demon lord Kil'Jaeden had specifically engineered as both a prison and an amplifier. Of course she wouldn't know that, no one in this time would, he only know because he had held his King's confidence as Arthas sifted through Ner'Zhul's memories and soul for what he could use. It had not been so much of a merge between Arthas and Ner'Zhul as it was a consumption, an absorption that crafted the new Arthas dominate Lich King. He only risks saying it aloud because Ner'Zhul had hinted at it a few times without ever clarifying, only ever realized in hindsight.

"Northrend is the Lich King's domain," said Kel'Thuzad, "A lone soul drifting about would have been simple enough for him to pluck if no other force interfered before it moved on, especially if he were already focused on you. Death and incineration would not have been enough to save you from him, all it would have done was destroy your original body, forcing you to be thrust into some kind of construct, turned into a banshee, put into another corpse, or perhaps just forced into Lichdom, in which you would be even more bound to him than you are now."

Of course, the Legion burning a body and claiming or annihilating a soul was another matter entirely, one that had likely been Tichondrous's goal when he made the threat.

She swallows thickly. "...oh."

The skeletons come in with three corpses from the basic troops of the failed expedition and lay them side by side on a slab. "I will preform two flawless reanimations with their full intellect intact. The first I will do without guide, I want you to try and sense how I focus my intent and spellcraft. We will briefly discuss your thoughts, then I will give you a walkthrough of how I do the second. You will be given one attempt today to do so after."

Her lips purse unhappily, and he can see her steeling herself, eyes glazing slightly, likely trying to compartmentalize what was about to happen. He hums to himself, considering the corpses before him. After he had become a Lich, reanimation hadn't actually been that common. He'd been more for summoning his stronger minions from afar rather than wasting time reanimating fodder, along with his wide arrange of destructive spells. He does oh so miss Death and Decay. Though, he had been rather nostalgic when he had first come back as a mere necromancer again. It took him a short while, but he had swiftly reclaimed his old mastery as if it never left him.

He waits until Jaina's eyes are intently upon him, her magic a soft coating in the air as she focuses herself. He reaches out with a green glowing hand and lays a palm on the corpse's forehead and bows his head, closing his eyes, a mockery of a priest giving a blessing. His power and intent flows through the corpse as quick as a breath in and settles in just as fast as a breath out. The body jerks, eyes fly open, blinking rapidly with confusion and bewilderment. An intake of break that was forced rather than instinctual.

"Wha..."

Kel'Thuzad places a single finger across undead lips for silence, and feels the terror and horror from the newest Scourge servant as they begins to realize their plight. "Tell me Acolyte, what did you sense?"

She looks honestly confused, they always are when going for more controlled and delicate reanimations. "It happened fast, but... from what I caught your magic barely touched the mind. More of the power of it went throughout the body."

He smiled. "Very good, now why might that be? Think on retaining intelligence as the goal."

She doesn't give an immediate response, not a feckless acolyte desperate for approval and success that he usually dealt with. He hopes she does eventually accept her new life, if only to have a new proper academic partner to theorize with. She takes a minute, looking down on the terrified undead, and repeats softly, "...it barely touched the mind."

He waits.

Her eyes lift to meet his, her voice is quiet, but filled with sure and unwanted understanding. "Necromantic magic, death magic, rots and decays just as much as it reanimates. You'd want as little of it involved in the mind as possible. Just enough to restore it to close as it was when alive, but nothing more ideally because you'd run the risk of degrading the mind."

"Excellent deduction Acolyte," he said, nodding, "The mind, the brain, is a delicate enough organ without pouring necromantic energy into it. If you overdo it and burst a part of the brain, or rot it, you aren't likely to be able to fix that. Most intelligent undead unless they were directly reanimated by myself, by the Lich King, or by another master necromancer, are likely to have one deficiency or another because of how difficult it is to do perfectly. Anywhere from speech to memory, to coordination and the like. Some of these can be worked around or fixed, or are so small as to not be noticeable, others... not as such."

"How does a corpse even retain or make new memories?" she asked with honest confusion.

He grins. "Magic."

The withering glare he gets in return is expected. "Now, I will guide you through the next reanimation, pay attention, and perhaps your first intelligent reanimation will be mostly functional..."

Jaina finds that Kel'thuzad's smooth voice slides through her ears like an insidious poison. Everything he says makes sense in a twisted sort of way, especially because of how ritualistic it is. Will, intent, desire, crafted together by her magic in a design assuredly more difficult then casting a mere fireball, more inline with the stronger and more complicated spellwork she cast in her later years. The proper place to begin is the brain, the lightest touch, into the nervous system and the spine with a bit more, then, the majority of the power spreads into the bone and flesh. That is what she gets out of is second 'guided' walkthrough.

"...because of course, an undead is still primarily dead, they don't actually need to eat, sleep, or the like," explains Kel'thuzad, "That is why the largest portion of the energy seeps into and augments both bone and flesh. Enabling the corpse to move and function. The power that fuels it is linked to the caster, or absorbed ambiently from surrounding magics, rather than through biological function."

"I've seen ghouls eat before," she counters with distaste.

Kel'thuzad's lips purse. "That... is by design. Do recall, that the Lich King's desire is to kill most of the living and retain the rest under his thrall. By imbedding within the undead the need to eat, to cause pain, to feel pain if they do not, he incites his servants to fight more viscously, and, to his desire, punishes the living who resisted him before they became his servants. Undead who serve well can have such pains removed."

Jaina's jaw clenches. "Dare I ask just how much of the Plague of Undeath is by malicious design?"

"It would be easier to specify which parts weren't," he answers in a bland, non-committal tone.

He regards her as their words draw to a close. He motions to the last remaining corpse, no further words needed. No complaints, no stalling, no pleading will work if she tries. She calls on her tainted magic, lays a hand on the corpse's forehead as Kel'Thuzad had, and with years of carefulness used in other spellcraft, weaves a light trace of power through the mind, empowering her necromantic magic as it goes through the rest of the body, all with her intent:

Rise.

Eyes flutter open, a green glow to them, a startled and confused gasp. Eyes focus on her, blinking rapidly. "L-lady P-Proudm-moore?"

There is bewildered relief. "W-we w-won?"

Jaina has never felt more disgusted with herself in her life. "No. We didn't."

"W-wha-t?"

"Hmm," muses Kel'Thuzad, "A bit of a stutter, but if that is the only thing wrong then this was an exceptional first attempt."

The undead jolts, staring at Kel'Thuzad in surprise, then anger... then horror begins to build as the footman begins to realize something is wrong. Hand goes to their side for a sword that isn't there. Kel'Thuzad raises an unimpressed brow as the footman rolls off the slab and crouches, armored fists raised. "Acolyte Proudmoore was rather kind with the intent of her reanimation, if you don't wish for your unlife to be nothing but pain, then I suggest calming yourself and not striking. Alternatively, you can express a bit of control of your reanimation, Acolyte."

Does that mean if she does not will it, those she reanimates do not feel the pain the Lich King intended? If that's the case...

The footman makes to charge.

Jaina raises a hand. "Stop."

The footman stops, against his will.

Jaina has never hated herself more. Even if her enslavement of the poor man is a mercy compared to what would normally happen to a scourged foe, its still horrific.

"Serve me well and willingly, Jaina Proudmoore," echoes the Lich King in her mind, "And I will allow those you reanimate this small mercy. Am I not a kind and generous master?"

She sees the trap for what it is, but sees no way out of it. She is damned no mater what she does, but if she willingly performs these damnable acts, she is rewarded with less suffering of others. She shivers when she feels a hand rake through her hair, but nothing is there, a finger gently trailing down her cheek. "Serve well, and you will be a favored pet."

She goes rigid when it feels like a freezing touch, a hand so cold it burns, slips through her flesh to grip her spine, but there is nothing there. "Refuse me, and know suffering beyond your wildest imagination as a slave."

"Think on it Proudmoore," advised the Lich King, his paralytic touch fading, "You will see your young Prince in the morning, after all, good behavior should be rewarded, should it not?"

Dark laughter echoes through her mind, and it haunts her long into the night.

A/N: Arthas POV next chapter.