Hytharion held his hands out as the guard unlocked the cuffs around his wrists. The guard watched him with obvious distrust, but he didn't care. He felt immense relief as magical power coursed through him once more. Quickly turning to head down the street, he bit down on his cheek in an effort to keep himself composed. He knew he would not be trusted, and he did not think he would get to speak to Lor'themar without some resistance, but he hadn't expected to be straight-up arrested. He didn't like it. The magic-dampening cuffs had reminded him too much of his captivity at the hands of the Burning Legion. Luckily, he had managed to keep calm as several guards escorted him to Sunfury Spire, the place from which Lord of the sin'dorei governed the kingdom. The old elf had been suspicious of him at first, and he didn't blame him. He had seen the unfortunate elves that were raised and forced to serve the Scourge in Northrend, and he knew he looked disturbingly similar. Hytharion had told him his story and that had seemed to make Lor'themar relax somewhat. It seemed the mention of his sister helped him the most, though. Falaria was well known in Silvermoon, both as a respected former Farstrider and veteran of the Scourge invasion. Lor'themar was still distrustful, but he had gained his trust enough to be allowed a home. Not in Silvermoon itself - he assumed he would need to prove himself for that - but in the woods, not far from the city.

Walking through the streets, he could feel himself being followed. Glancing back, he counted five guards tailing him. He didn't care as long as they didn't cuff him again. As the gates came into view, he wasn't sure if he had ever been more relieved to see such an ordinarily normal sight. The distrustful and judgmental eyes that watched him from all sides were starting to feel overwhelming. Impatient, he teleported himself further ahead and ran the rest of the way outside. While he had lost his sense of smell, taking a breath of the refreshing spring air still felt nice, and he was glad to finally be out of the confines of the city once more. The sun was starting to set and he quickly began in the direction he was told his house would be. He disliked the night. It was when the Scourge became more active. While there were fewer undead here now, and he was much more powerful than when he was just a boy, he didn't want to do any fighting. All he wanted to do was go home and decompress. He sighed. He missed when going home meant he could see his family again. He had taken so many things for granted, the love and trust of another person especially.

At last, the house came into view, and he frowned. If the inside looked anywhere near as messy and overrun as the outside did, then there was much work to be done before he could call it home. Moss and vines grew on the roof and up the sides of the walls, and the small garden that sat under a cracked window was overrun with weeds. Giving the stiff door a shove with his shoulder, he peered in. Conjuring a small flame, he stepped inside and looked around, grimacing in disgusted disappointment. The house had clearly been abandoned and uninhabited for many years. Dusty cobwebs were in every corner, and dirt covered the floor. Bugs skittered about here and there due to several broken windows. He heard a sound above him and raised the flame slightly as he looked up. A few small bats, their slumber disturbed by his intrusion, chittered at him angrily before swooping down and flying out of the nearest window. As he went to the kitchen area, a few small shades shrieked and rushed to the safety of the shadows. While they posed almost no threat to anyone, let alone him, the presence of any kind of undead in his new home disturbed him.

Drawing in breath to sigh, he grimaced as something putrid hit his nostrils. Apparently my sense of smell is completely gone after all. Looking around for the source, he peered down a long hallway and could see something sitting in a dark corner. What it was, he couldn't say, but as he sniffed again, the strength of the smell there told him that it was probably the source. Approaching the shape cautiously, he got to it, and as his flame illuminated it, he gasped. It was a ghoul, long dead but not long enough. Foul, congealed, greenish-black liquid surrounded it. Flies buzzed around it, and a thousand maggots ate at what flesh remained. Covering his mouth, he rushed outside to retch into the weed-infested garden.

The birds singing nearby abruptly stopped. He froze as a sudden sense of dread crept up his spine. The air turned cold, and as he let out a breath, he could see it in front of him. "That bad, hm?" said an eerie voice behind him. With a flame in his hand, he slowly turned. If he hadn't lost his colour already, he was sure he would be pale as he looked at the death knight before him. Armour, faintly glowing with unholy light, covered him from head to toe. His face was obscured by a helmet with the visage of a skull with long horns, his icy blue eyes glowing from behind its eye sockets. The axe on his back was surrounded by constantly swirling frost. The ground froze under his feet, and the plants and flowers around him withered and died.

"Who are you?" Hytharion asked warily, his hands tense. "I'm an Archmage, death knight, formerly of the Kirin Tor. I'm stronger than I look." The flame in his hand flared brighter.

The death knight chuckled. "I'm the Deathlord of the Ebon Blade. You're a scrawny, one-armed boy, one-legged boy. I doubt you would be much of a challenge," he said, his voice echoing eerily within the confines of his helm.

Hytharion narrowed his eyes. The leader of the death knights himself? It would be smart to run, but something told him not to. Curiosity perhaps? No. It was something more, though he couldn't say what. Maybe it's just relief someone is actually talking to me willingly.

"My name is Iceblade, boy, and I've come to sate my curiosity." He cocked his head, the eyes behind the skull narrowing slightly, obviously studying him. "I was in the Plaguelands when I saw you heading into the Thalassian Pass yesterday. I was wondering what could make one such as you make a trip to this place."

"This is my home. I didn't have anywhere else to go after I was raised. My name is Hytharion, by the way."

"Surely this is not your home any longer," Iceblade said, looking around the quiet forest. "Your siblings have little love for you and your people don't permit you to live in the city. This magnificent little mansion you have been given... Is it really your home? Or is it merely a place to survive?"

"You... watched me?" Hytharion wasn't sure whether to be disturbed or impressed by the death knight's ability to hide himself. He could practically taste the magic that surrounded and animated him, a strong mixture of Frost and Death.

"Indeed," he replied in a bored tone as he casually pulled off a gauntlet to inspect his blackened nails. "It was a rather confusing show, to be honest. I watched your brother attempt to kill you, and then your sister come to your defence before putting a sword to your throat a minute later. And they both abandoned you." His intense, icy eyes flicked back to him. "You're all alone now, aren't you?"

"No. I intend to prove myself to Silvermoon. I'll gain their trust and they'll see I'm not what I look like." The death knight chuckled, and Hytharion glared at him. "What? You don't think I can?"

"I'm sorry to say, boy, but I know you can't."

"And what makes you so confident!?" he demanded. "Why are you here, monster? To cause me pain like your kind so love to do? To taunt me and-" He suddenly found himself on the ground. He felt as if he were being crushed, and any movement made the pressure increase. Struggling to focus, he finally managed to teleport himself away as the death knight approached and threw a fireball at him. It hit his helm as he spun toward Hytharion, striking him in the face. He was sent to the ground, and his helm went flying.

The death knight growled slightly as he sat up, shaking his head. "You're an elf...?" Hytharion said in surprise. The left side of his face was badly scarred, and his ear was missing, but the other was still long and pointy. His left eye could not be fully opened, and he could see exposed bone around his jaw. Clearly, whatever had happened to his face had also been the cause of his death. Despite that, he somehow looked vaguely familiar, though Hytharion couldn't quite place it.

"Wow, you have eyes," the death knight retorted as he wiped the dirt off of his face. He felt a cut on his brow and scoffed at the dark blood that came away on his finger. Looking back at Hytharion, he stood, and Hytharion conjured another fireball. "Stay back!"

The death knight raised an eyebrow. Hytharion was hit with a freezing wind that extinguished the flame. "You're lucky, boy. Few have ever struck me and lived to tell the tale." He approached again, and Hytharion tensed, his fingers twitching. "You ask what makes me so confident that you will fail," he growled, coming much too close to Hytharion. "I know from experience."

Hytharion, emboldened by his small victory, refused to back down. "What do you mean, death knight?"

Iceblade was silent for several moments as he stared him down. Finally, he relented and stepped back. "I, too, tried to rejoin society once. I gave my life defending Silvermoon when the Scourge invaded, but-"

"Wait" Hytharion blurted as something clicked in his mind. "Are you Commander Dawnblade? Velador Dawnblade?"

The death knight narrowed his eyes. "It's been a long time since I heard that name and longer since I used it. Do I know you?"

"No. We didn't talk, but you helped my brother back to the city when he was wounded. I wanted to thank you, but there was no time and I never did get to. Your name was among those honoured later."

Iceblade scoffed. "Yes, well, a lot of good my deeds did me. After I was freed from the Lich King's control, I..." The death knight let out a heavy sigh, a sound that reminded Hytharion of cracking ice. "I missed my home. I left the Ebon Blade and came back here, as you have done. My identity and actions before I died mattered not to those in Silvermoon, though, not even to my family. They only saw me for what I had become and what I had done under the control of the Lich King. Like you, I was granted a home outside of the city. I lost track of how long I tried to live a normal life. Our people are scarred, though, boy. When they look at us, we only remind them of that terrible day. No matter what I did, I was feared and demonized. I had a hard time containing my anger, but I managed to keep myself under control. Determined, I persisted until..." He looked away, and it was a long minute before he finally spoke again. "Until one day, I was heading into the city when a little girl, no more than five, maybe six, passed me and called me a monster to her parents. That's when I snapped. I... I crushed her throat." He closed his eyes as he shook his head. "Her mother's cries will haunt me for the rest of my days. It was the wake-up call I needed. I would never be accepted, and trying so hard for so long had driven me mad. I tell you this now as a warning, boy. Those cries... They'll never leave you. Ever."

Hytharion's eyes widened as he looked away. He thought back to that night in Darkshore and could see vividly his sister's arm covered in flame, much like the world tree behind her had been. "When my sister brought me back, I was just so angry... And my brother..." He sighed, unable to find the words.

"It's okay, boy, I doubt you can top child slaughter. I won't judge."

"I... I hurt them," he sighed. "Both of them. I didn't mean to, but Falaria was just so damn happy to have brought me back, and Baladir... he just kept pushing me and I snapped. I fought with him, and he fell down the stairs because of me. Up until today, I honestly thought I killed him. Obviously, I didn't, but it was close." He took a deep breath and sighed. "That anger you said made you snap... it's all I feel now. I don't know how to control it. I don't want to hurt someone else, but I don't know how to control it, and I don't know what to do. I promised my sister I would kill myself if that happened, but I don't think I'd have the courage..."

"That's why I followed you. I could sense your pain, your fear. You don't have the look of one raised more than a month ago, am I correct?"

"Not quite two weeks ago. But why do you care about me? Why are you here, Velador?"

The death knight's eye twitched. "No one calls me that, boy, and that is the last time I will allow it. Make sure it does not happen again."

"Sorry. Iceblade."

He stared at him for several moments before nodding his head in acceptance of his apology. "Anyway... Believe it or not, I am still somewhat capable of empathy. Like I said, I have been in your position, and honestly, you remind me of myself when I woke up. So, I've come to offer you a suggestion."

"Which is?"

"Think about joining the Ebon Blade, and if not us, the Horde. I believe you would find kinship amongst the Forsaken."

Hytharion blinked. "What? The Ebon Blade? The Forsaken? I can't, I-I can barely look at them or you! I can't even look at myself! I look at them, and I feel my hand being torn to shreds all over again! I see the things that split my family apart! My parents are dead, my sister's head is permanently fucked, and my brother-"

"Enough, boy!" Hytharion was sent to the ground by another freezing blast of icy wind. "You cannot blame me or the Forsaken. We are not the same thing as the Scourge, not anymore! We have proven ourselves to be different! Most of us want to be normal, just like you. We could teach you about your new life, boy, the Forsaken especially, and perhaps about how to control your tongue!"

Hytharion, knowing he had crossed a line, quickly looked away as he pushed himself up. Iceblade closed his eyes, and his breath was visible as he breathed deeply and let it out. "I apologize," he said softly as he opened his eyes, his voice calmer. Hytharion flinched slightly as he offered him his hand. His eyes flicked back and forth from him to his hand for a few moments before he took it and stood with the death knight's assistance. "You're so young," he sighed. "You're scared, alone, and confused. I understand that, and I understand your attitude toward them. I was horrified when I saw myself clearly for the first time and even more so when I saw the Forsaken, but once you get to know them, they're not so bad. They and the Ebon Blade have become... well, I wouldn't call them my family per se, but they're as close as a dead man can get to having one. I can see it in your eyes, boy. You're lonely. I know that's the only reason you didn't flee at the sight of me. You crave normalcy, for interaction where you're not judged or feared. Believe me when I say that's only possible among your own kind now. I know it's hard to accept, but you are going to have to one day, or it will drive you just as mad as trying to gain the trust of people who have no wish to trust you."

Hytharion looked away, his brow furrowed as he thought. Neither the Forsaken nor the Ebon Blade were people with whom he had ever thought he would wish to interact. Velador - no, Iceblade, he doubted he would be allowed to make that mistake again - was right though, about everything. And he had not been thinking clearly when he hurt his siblings. He hadn't even realized he was about to snap when he was talking to his sister. He would not be thinking of consequences if he snapped again.

Could they truly help him? Could he ever really see them as anything more than monsters?

Iceblade went and retrieved his helm from where it had fallen and brushed off the dust and dirt. "I know it's a tough choice, boy, but think about it," he said, glancing back at him. "Not saying you must. You may keep trying here, and you may even succeed where I failed, but I wouldn't count on it. Good luck." As he outstretched a hand, a dark glow surrounded it. A moment later, a shadowy, misty purple gateway appeared in front of him.

"Wait!" The death knight stopped just as he was about to step through and looked back at him. "I... Would you... Would you help me?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Do you think you can control your tongue? There are others with less patience than I."

Hytharion nodded. "I can, I promise.

"Then yes, I can. This portal will take us back to Acherus, and we'll go from there. Come along then, Hytharion. It won't stay open for long." He stepped into the void and disappeared. Hytharion smiled slightly at the use of his name. Recovering from his surprise, he glanced back at his empty house. Despite the unwelcoming aura it exuded, it was so tempting to just stay there and read a book or practice new spells. It was messy, but it could be cleaned and fixed up. He knew that was all his life would be if he stayed, though.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped through the gateway and left his life behind.