Spectre: Lost wifi yesterday so it took some time too.
Blanchimont: Yep, I'm so glad at least one recognizes the reference!
WoW: Yes, I always imagined Tichondrius would be the 'I would do it myself' type of Dreadlord but would prefer working in the shadows. But would act if things didn't go their way.
Iskendar Hero: Arthas was never really meant to be Anduin as he is still pretty capable of being ruthless and aggresive whenever the situation demands it. As for the story going beyond WOTLK, I'm still thinking of it but I am looking forward to Arthas being fully in-touch with his Death Knight abilities and of the Windrunner sisters reuniting in more positive circumstances.
WeirdBlockPoints: I agree! Sylvanas really holds onto her pride as she's pretty cheeky as a High Elf and got a chip on her shoulder. And yes, she'll have a role beyond Quel'thalas. Arthas definitely regrets snapping at her because that wasn't his intention. And it is pretty funny to think that no matter what timeline, these two are bound to butt heads with one another and I agree with the other takes! As for Tirion, it's going to involve him and future members of what would eventually become the Scarlet Crusade.
Gundam Sadalsud: Yep. I often get the impressions that the elves are arrogant as hell. Hopefully this would become a humbling experience for them.
Splash43: I agree. It gives an impression as to what her life as a living being feels like back then.
Chapter 24: The Inner Gate
Crossing through Fairbreeze Village just near Silvermoon, Arthas and Jaina along with their men have begun their trek toward the now vulnerable Inner Elf Gate. Captain Falric and a contingent of the 1st Legion had opted to stay behind to help Lor'themar and Belo'vir fortify Silvermoon for the impending invasion. Joining them is a sizeable Quel'dorei contingent of warriors, mages and archers led by Ranger Captain Brightwing to support the Alliance expedition.
Hopefully, Sylvanas wouldn't have done anything drastic that may harm herself or her men while they were on their way. From the look she had when she stormed out of the throne room, both Arthas and Jaina worried for her safety.
Sylvanas had always been prideful and dedicated to their homeland. Arthas felt a pang of sorrow of him indirectly discrediting and humiliating her in front of the people when all he intended was for their cooperation. And now, Arthas felt that she hated him because of that. Likely the same way she hated him as an undead after he destroyed her life and turned it into a living nightmare.
Jaina looked over at Arthas, noticing the furrow in his brow and the distant look in him. "You're worried about Sylvanas, aren't you?" she gently asked.
Arthas sighed heavily, focusing on the road ahead of him. "Yes," he admitted. "I never meant to put her in such a position, Jaina."
"What do you mean?" Jaina inquired, her own concern for Sylvanas clear in her tone.
"Because I only intended to reach out my message to her, Jaina." Arthas began. "But I also knew that Anasterian would not take the word of a mere human prince seriously, not without evidence that would be damning to his own court. Sylvanas...she is the one with the ear of the King. I thought that if she could be made to understand, she would be able to convince him where I couldn't."
"But why not just go to the King directly?" Jaina pressed.
"Because I knew he would not believe me," Arthas bitterly replied. "He would see it as an attempt to manipulate his decisions, to sway him against his own people. And Sylvanas...she is the Ranger-General. Her word carries weight, especially when it comes to the defense of Quel'Thalas. What I didn't take into account, is that she didn't read Lady Vereesa's letters to her where I had it sent there because I thought she'd take her word more seriously with her giving weight in what I sent."
They rode in silence for a few moments before Jaina spoke again. "You know she's stubborn, Arthas. And she hates admitting when she's wrong."
"I know," Arthas nodded. "That much hasn't changed from the last time I knew her."
"But she is loyal to her people," Jaina offered, trying to find some comfort in their predicament. "If she knows the truth, she will do what's best for them, even if it means swallowing her pride."
Arthas nodded again, though he was both doubtful and hopeful of that. "I just hope she doesn't do something rash," he muttered. "Her hot-headedness has cost her before."
Jaina rode a bit closer to him. "We have to trust her, Arthas," she said. "And if she doesn't reason, we will be there to help her. Together."
The human prince looked at her, his gaze filled with a mix of gratitude and determination. "I hope so, Jaina."
Halduron couldn't help but ride a bit closer to the two, his curiosity picqued. "Prince Arthas. Lady Proudmoore. If you don't mind me asking, how is that you have been aware of Dar'khan's betrayal long before we have?", the Ranger Captain inquired the two humans, still reeling from the Magister's betrayal.
The two looked at one another worriedly, wondering how could they explain that. Of course, Arthas couldn't say that his past life saw it himself, so he had to think of a more suitable story for that. "While we were investigating the plague that swept Andorhal, Kel'thuzad had spoke of making a 'deal' with Dar'khan within the Cult of the Damned where he would gain his allegiance in exchange for power."
They waited the elf's reaction at the fabricated story before Halduron raised an eyebrow in realization. "I distinctively remember Prince Kael'thas voting for his expulsion from the Kirin Tor's Council of Six from what he told to his father. Regarding practicing powers similar to that of the Scourge."
"Yes, he has.", Jaina affirmed for him. "Though Kael is still in Dalaran by this time and we need his help to make sure the Sunwell is still secured."
Arthas looked at Halduron, recalling as to how he and Lor'themar had barely managed to escape Dar'khan. "How did he kill the Magisters, Brightwing?", he carefully asked. "And was there something different about what Dar'khan is usually capable of?"
"Dar'khan," Halduron began with a narrowed glare as if the Magister was right in front of him, "was a sight to behold. Or rather, a nightmare. He reveled in the chaos, his eyes burning with a malice I had never seen in an elf before. He slaughtered the Magisters without remorse, and when they fell, he didn't just leave them to the embrace of the grave. No, he twisted their lifeblood, corrupted it with some dark power, and brought them back to serve his will." He paused to take a steadying breath. "The way he did it... it was unnatural, like watching something that should never have been born. The energy that surrounded him was alien, powerful, and... wrong."
"It sounded like necromancy to me," Jaina surmised with distaste, glancing at Arthas who clenched his right fist. "Only a few managed to resist the call in playing god over life and death."
"And he used that power to massacre our platoon as we tried to confront him.", Halduron further narrated in anger. "But there is another source of power that he used. It was ghastly green, almost exclusively made to destroy only. And it changed him in horrifying ways imaginable. He almost didn't look like an elf anymore. His skin was a shade of blue-green, stretched tight over his bones, his eyes burned brightly as he cackled."
"Fel energy.", Arthas surmised. "Tichondrius likely gave him a taste for it as payment for selling out Quel'thalas, and now he's become addicted to it. It corrupts everything it touches, twisting and warping it until it's almost unrecognizable."
"Lor'themar and I barely managed to escape.", Halduron continued. "But as for the Key of the Three Moons, we tried to to hide it as the best we could, though we can't say if Dar'khan has found it or not yet."
The two humans looked repulsed at the thought, deciding to try and pry a little more about the traitorous Magister. "Anything else you've managed to gather about him, Halduron?", Arthas pressed.
Halduron looked down for a moment. "There are rumors that Dar'khan is engaged into research regarding a realm where everything is of perpetual darkness and potentially, the antithesis of the Light itself. According to him, they were fragments of an ancient world teetering onto something along with a very powerful ancient object but couldn't surmise what or where it is."
Both Jaina and Arthas were intrigued at that. She glanced at Arthas, silently asking him if he was aware of such a thing where he only shook his head in response, genuinely not knowing what Dar'khan had researched as he mostly left the Elf alone and in charge of the Ghostlands after he was done with Quel'thalas.
"We'll deal with that later after more important work is done.", Arthas firmly stated, going on ahead to the Outpost where Jaina and Halduron tailed him closely. "Right now, Sylvanas needs our help."
Back at the Inner Elf Gate Outpost...
Sylvanas panted, landing the last of her arrows onto one of the Blackrock Warriors as he came charging right at her.
There are so many of them. With every man they have lost, it only adds to the Scourge's manpower. And the Orcs reveled in the burning of the villages like children playing in the sandbar. Velonara, Anya and Nathanos fought with the same zeal as her, but it was growing evident that they too are getting exhausted.
The Ranger-General looked across the battlefield, feeling the rush into her heart as she took in the carnage around her. The cries of the dying and the roars of the invaders pierced the air that tangled with the crackle of burning wood and the clang of steel. Her Rangers fought as hard as they could against the brutish onslaught of the Blackrock Orcs and the mindless Scourge that surrounded them, and their numbers seemed endless. Captain Marwyn and Thassarian's men are holding the line through a shield wall along with whatever artillery they could spare, and are struggling to hold the line without the Prince leading them.
As if called upon by the dark thoughts in her mind, a massive orc wielding a burning broadblade emerged, looking at her with a cold, malicious glee and he appeared in a red hue where he destroyed her how, forcing her to use two curved blades against an unusual red-skinned Orc.
"Should have hid amongst your trees, elf," Wrathjaw sneered, in both contempt and disdain. "I will finish where Doomhammer failed by burning down your pathetic spires."
Sylvanas gritted her teeth against the Orc, having remembered on having fought the Horde invasion those fifteen years ago. The Scourge are coming in droves, resurrecting every elf or fallen orc to their service in their onslaught against the elves. "Then I'll make my stand here, Orc.", she declared. "Anar'alah belore!"
The two circled each other warily, and Sylvanas felt her muscles coiled like a spring ready to release their potential. With a roar, Wrathjaw lunged forward, raising his broadblade into a blur as he sought to cleave her in two. Sylvanas met his charge with a grace that seemed almost unnatural, her twin blades, parrying the incoming weapon as her knees buckled at the tremendous amount of force he applied to it before she was forced to disengage and leap away before the broadblade caught her head. Each parry and counterstrike was executed with a precision born of years of training and honed by countless battles.
The ground trembled beneath their feet, with their weapons sparking and chiming with every impact. The Warchief's blade was like a living flame, leaving trails of burning singes in its wake that scorched the earth and left it smoking. Sylvanas's curved blades, on the other hand complimented each other as she effectively used them defensively against the Warchief. Their styles were as different as night and day, yet equally lethal.
The Orc's blade arced through the air in a vicious downward swing, aimed at her unprotected neck. Sylvanas ducked beneath it, her blades slicing upwards in a swift counter that left a shallow gash across his chest. He grunted in surprose, but did not falter. Instead, he spun on his heel and brought his weapon around in a wide, sweeping arc that forced Sylvanas to leap backward to avoid. As she landed, she rolled to the side and sprang up again, preparing herself for another onslaught.
The two pushed the other to their limits. Wrathjaw's blade was a maelstrom of fire and Fel, a whirlwind that seemed to consume everything in its path. Sylvanas danced around the edges of this fiery storm, her blades cutting through the air with the speed of lightning. Even with her agility and skill, she could feel the weight of his blows, the raw power that lay behind each swing. Her armor was becoming now marred and scorched, her blue cloak stained with the soot of the burning world around them.
For every step she took back, Wrathjaw took two forward, driving her closer to the edge of the besieged village, to the very brink of despair. Yet she refused to yield and her eyes kept burning with the same fiery determination that had made her a legend among the Rangers of Quel'Thalas. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and her arms felt like lead, but she would not, could not, give in.
As Wrathjaw raised his weapon for a final blow, Sylvanas knew that she had to act quickly. Gathering all her remaining strength, she feigned a retreat, only to pivot on one foot and hurl herself at him with a scream. Her blades met his broadblade with a clang that echoed through the day, the impact sending a shockwave through her body. For a brief moment, the two of them were locked, their weapons crossed as they glared into each other's eyes.
She could feel the burn of exhaustion in her limbs, the cold grip of doubt squeezing at her heart, but she would not falter. Not here. Not now.
The shock that came filled the battlefield, as the Alliance Expedition and Quel'dorei reinforcements thundered into view. The sound of charging horses, the roar of Knights, and the howl of the 1st Legion boosted the spirits of the weary defenders. Arthas emerged at the forefront as he dashed against the Blackrock Warchief.
With a fierce roar of defiance, Arthas swung Light's Vengeance, and the power behind it sent the Fel Orc skidding several feet away from Sylvanas. Despite her fatigue and stubborn pride, she couldn't help but feel a flicker of relief. "Are you all right, Sylvanas?", the Prince inquired her worriedly but when Arthas offered her his hand to help her up, she swatted it away, in anger.
"I didn't need your help, Prince," she spat amidst smoke and exertion. "I can do this on my own."
Arthas's sighed, knowing her need to make amends from the earlier blunder. "Of that, I have no doubt, Sylvanas," he assured her, then looking over at Wrathjaw with a glare. "But right now, your people need you elsewhere. Ensure the civilians are evacuated. I'll hold him off as long as I can."
Sylvanas hesitated for a moment, her hand hovering just above the ground. She hated it when people take her battles away but she knew he was right; she had to prioritize the safety of her people. She then turned to her remaining forces. "Fall back! Make sure the remaining townsfolk have evacuated to Silvermoon!"
The Farstriders obeyed without question. Sylvanas watched them go, her heart heavy with the weight of her responsibilities. Only when they were a safe distance away did she allow herself to look back at Arthas, who was already facing the massive Warchief and gritted her teeth in frustration.
She hated that she needed rescuing again. And from the same person who more or less upended her world.
With that, Sylvanas turned away, her boots crunching in the ash-covered ground as she sprinted toward the village to defend the remaining villagers along with Anya, Velonara and Nathanos. But at least with the Alliance and Halduron's men backing them up, they'll be able to organize a defense line at Silvermoon.
As she retreated, Arthas gripped the shaft of his hammer tightly, feeling the cold of his infected arm, gritting his teeth. Not now..., he thought, feeling as if it was dying to get into battle once again. But first, he had to ensure that the future he sought to change was protected from the horrors that sought to claim it once more. With a roar that matched Wrathjaw's own, he charged into the fray, his hammer raised high, ready to smite the enemy and protect those he had vowed to save.
Sylvanas watched from the corner of her eye, having picked up a new bow where her arrows struck the charging Orcs in quick succession on the front, the side and the back. Even amidst the rush of needing to cover them, she couldn't help but reflect the choices she had made and the price she had paid for her pride. She found herself unable to ignore the burning question that had been plaguing her since his reappearance. Why? Why would Arthas still help her after all the times she shot him down and gave him the cold shoulder.
Further thoughts will have to wait. She would have to face the truth of her feelings and the reality of what had just occurred. For now she picked up a bow from a fallen Farstrider and she continued to launch arrow after arrow against an incoming Blackrock Raider and a warrior. She looked back of the human prince she had looked down upon and now found herself inexplicably indebted to.
Wrathjaw's broadblade found itself being parried by the Prince's hammer, causing sparks to fly as both combatants tried to overpower the other. "Paladin fools.", he spat in contempt. "You couldn't save your own city! What makes you think you can save these elves?"
"I've dealt and disposed with your kind before, Orc.", Arthas spat, breaking the lock between them as he and the Fel Orc circled around one another, pointing Light's Vengeance at him. "And I'll do it again."
The Warchief remained unfazed. "Khanzo and Genjuros were weak to have stood against you.", Wrathjaw spat with disdain regarding his fallen commanders. "They have lost their favor to the Legion."
The cursed power from his right arm flowed through him like an aura, and the ground beneath him began to be covered by ice and snow. "And now, you'll lose yours as well."
The two then charged at one another, and the resulting clash was nothing short of elemental Arthas brought down Light's Vengeance in a downwards' motion empowered by the Light as it descended upon the Fel Orc. Wrathjaw met the blow with his own weapon, the blade's crimson flames colliding with the light of the hammer's might. The impact resulted in a resounded the shockwave rippling through the ground, toppling nearby trees and scattering the ashes of the fallen like leaves before a storm.
Almost as if they are the fiercest rivals, Arthas and Wrathjaw traded blow for blow as they moved into two blurs from the perspective of their respective forces, one yellow and one red. Arthas' strikes called forth the very essence of the Light, each swing that is parried by the Orc Blademaster's weapon with precision and finesse. The snow and ice that followed in his wake, as a result of his corrupted power empowering his strikes, coated the battlefield in a pristine, frosty sheen that starkly contrasted with the inferno that was Wrathjaw's domain. The Fel Orc's blade left trails of green fire in its wake as he spun and struck with the agility of a predator born in the heart of the most volcanic lands.
Their movements were a blur, a spectacle of speed and power that left the onlooking soldiers and Rangers in awe. The icy hue of his right arm grew more pronounced with every clash, the curse seemingly at war with the holy light that suffused him.
Wrathjaw swung his broadblade in a wide arc, a fiery tornado that threatened to engulf Arthas in a maelstrom of flame. But the prince of Lordaeron remained calm. He stepped into the blaze, his eyes closed in concentration, and with a flick of his wrist, sent a shard of pure ice hurtling through the fire, shattering it into shards that pierced the ground around the Warchief and momentarily stunning him, allowing Arthas for an opening that was quickly closed by the Warchief.
In that moment, Arthas allowed himself to let go.
Each swing of the hammer brought forth a breeze of ice and snow, while each strike of the broadblade painted the air with crimson flame. The ground trembled under their relentless assault, as the two pushed the boundaries of their respective powers to the breaking point.
Arthas' right arm glowed in a faint icy blue hue that augmented Light's Vengeance, each swing of his weapon leaving a trail of frost in its wake. His every step sent shards of ice shooting out like a blizzard's fury, each one aimed to pierce the thick armor of the Fel Orc. Yet, Wrathjaw remained unyielding. His blade, a fiery pendulum of destruction, met Arthas's hammer with a deafening clang that echoed through the battlefield. The ground around them grew hot as molten rock, the snow and ice retreating before the onslaught of the Warchief's fury.
Arthas could barely hold himself together. Quickly, he moved to intercept the fiery flurry of Wrathjaw's strikes, blocking every one of them until he tried to break the stalemate by swinging his weapon down. However, this is what Wrathjaw expected as he swung his broadblade upwards and to Light's Vengeance, taking it out of Arthas' grasp and sending it flying before it landed on the scorched earth.
The Prince watched as Wrathjaw moved to gut him entirely. The rush that he felt and the fear going into his right arm. In its stead, a dark power began to coalesce around his right arm, a power that he had hoped never to feel again. The cold grew more intense, the very essence of the curse pulsing through his veins.
What is this...?, Arthas thought to himself. With a snarl that was more beast than man, Arthas raised his corrupted limb, and from the maelstrom of frost and decay onto his palm, an ashen gray runeblade took shape and the blade glowed in a black and blue hue. The weapon had a silver pommel and a navy blue handle. It resembled Frostmourne, yet it was not the same cursed weapon that is a part of Ner'zhul's soul. The blade glowed with a blue hue that seemed to simmer the shadow and frost within.
Wrathjaw's eyes widened as he continued his strike until it was parried by the runeblade. To his shock, however, Arthas quickly broke the lock between them and sent the Fel Orc stumbling several feet away from the Prince.
Arthas balanced himself, gazing upon the weapon that manifested from the power of his cursed arm. Gripping it tightly, Arthas outstretched his right arm and pointed the runeblade at the Fel Orc, as if signalling him to strike first as his eyes glowed in a turqoise ember.
Feeling the adrenaline of battle flow through her, Jaina raised her staff to cast an icy wall to protect the fleeing Quel'dorei villagers as Thassarian and Koltira cut through their ranks with vigorous synergy. Her water elementals lunged forward, striking with the force of a tidal wave against an incoming group of Blackrock Orcs and Amani trolls, knocking the invaders back and giving the fleeing civilians a chance to escape.
With grace, she conjured a barricade of ice, blocking the path of the pursuers and buying precious time for the defenseless to flee. Concentrating what she had learned, Jaina casted several Flarecores into the amassing group of undead, where they exploded upon contact of the undead and blowing apart several of them.
Focusing her magic, she casted five frost blades, finding their marks on several Orc Raiders charging at her, freezing them in place. Seeing her chance, she unleashed several frost volleys at them, shattering them completely.
The elven mages and Magisters who had come to stand beside her watched in awe as she fought. They had heard rumors of the potential of the Kirin Tor Grand Magus' apprentice, but to see it firsthand was to witness it was breathtaking. Her blizzard froze the ground beneath the enemy's feet, leaving them stumbling and vulnerable to the arrows and swords of the warriors. Her flaming pyroblasts scorched the air, resulting of cindered orcish flesh and bone falling down.
"By the Sunwell!" One of the Magisters were awed with amazement as Jaina conjured a colossal ice blockade, halting the tide of undeath. "Her power is unrivaled!"
The elf mages and Magisters watched the human prince with a mix of suspicion and respect, unsure of his true intentions but unable to deny the strength he brought to their cause. Yet the sight of these two assisting the Quel'dorei gave made them believe that they have a chance against these monstrosities sent by the Scourge.
Keeping her focus on the battlefield summoned three water elementals. Pointing her staff at the onslaught, the elementals obeyed her command, their forms solidifying into three colossal tidal waves that surged towards the onrushing horde.
The waves collided with the orcs, trolls, and Scourge with a deafening roar, sending them sprawling and gasping for breath. As the water receded, leaving the enemy momentarily stunned, she raised her staff high. "Freeze," she whispered, the word a frosty breath on the wind. A blast of pure, unbridled frost energy blasted forward, enveloping the soaked and disoriented invaders.
Their adversaries transformed into icy statues, halting their movements. The ground around them cracked and shimmered with the cold, as if the very fabric of the world itself had turned against them.
The elven defenders took advantage of the opening and Halduron signaled them to go forward as their arrows and spells now targeted the immobilized foes. The clatter of shattering ice filled the air as the Blackrock Orcs and Scourge fell, one by one, to the relentless onslaught.
In the midst of the battle, Thassarian and Koltira exchanged a look of amazement and admiration. "By the Sunwell," the elf murmured, "she truly is a force of nature."
His human counterpart nodded with a smirk. "Let's make sure they're not the only ones doing the hard work," he glanced over to their adversaries and the two warriors continued ahead.
For Arthas, wielding the power that he had held back reminded him of the days he engaged in senseless slaughter.
He had sworn to minimize its use as much as he could. But with the zeal that the Blackrock Warchief had shown, even in his past life, he was willing to make an exception.
And he was feeling the exhilaration and thrill of combat as he usually wouldn't feel before. "Blind loyalty to a lost cause rarely gets rewarded.", the Prince mused. "What is it that you intend to prove here?"
The Prince's runeblade sliced through the air, leaving a trail of frost that bit at Wrathjaw's flaming blade, as he weaved through the flurry of the Fel Orc's fiery attacks. Their little scuffle was exhilarating, as Arthas watched how fast his blade attacked matched as how fast he could parry and counterattack against him.
"The Blackrock Clan will be rewarded for its loyalty to the Legion!", Wrathjaw bellowed with rage and incredulity. "A place within the new order born from the ashes!"
Arthas' glowing turquoise eyes stared back at him with disdain and what resembled to be pity. "Loyalty to a master that uses you like a tool, a disposable pawn?" he sneered as his voice spoke like chilling wind that spread through the battlefield. "Prove it then, Orc. Show me how far your loyalty to your masters would go."
Wrathjaw roared in response of this challenge, his burning broadblade coming with the ferocity of a fiery whiplash. The prince met the attack with a casual ease that belied the ferocity of his own counter, the runeblade leaving a glowing arc of frost in its path.
"Loyalty or eternal servitude?" Arthas taunted, as each swing of his runeblade sent a shiver down Wrathjaw's spine, as if he knew the consequences that awaited him should he fail the Legion. "It appears the line isn't so clear for the likes of you."
Angered by this, Wrathjaw swung his broadblade in a wide horizontal arc, aiming to decapitate the prince. Arthas, with a speed that defied his size, brought the runeblade up in a swift, sizzling parry that sent sparks flying. The essence of his corrupted arm surged through the blade, and a thin, icy tendril shot out, slicing through the air and into Wrathjaw's left eye. The Orc roared in pain, stumbling back, his vision obscured by the sudden, bitter cold.
"Now, is that the sort of pain the Legion would give if you have failed?" Arthas jeered. "Or something new that you won't forget?"
Uther had once taught him to aggravate his opponent. Though his mentor later saw how much of a mistake it was that to teach him, Arthas saw the advantage it could give when facing brutes like this one over here.
Firing another arrow at a charging Amani Troll, Sylvanas quickly got ahold one of her curved blades where she sliced an Orc warrior's torso horizontally before quickly landed a slash that a gashing wound on his throat.
More than half of the civilians have been evacuated so far. But they needed to be fast.
But before she could, she couldn't help but watch the two humans from afar, and she felt...odd.
As the leader of Quel'thalas' armies and the Farstriders, everyone looked up to her for the defense of their homeland. Yet it was the two of them, the human prince and the sorceress, who were turning the tide of battle with their power.
It reminded her of Alleria and Turalyon during the previous war where they fought Doomhammer's forces in Quel'thalas How their own skill and bravery made them stand out against the best that the Horde could offer. While Sylvanas was left behind at Silvermoon, Alleria's name soon became anonymous to the countless heroes who fought the unimaginable. And the middle sister still stood under the shadow of her sister's achievements and her dedication to duty that likely ended her life when she came to that Alliance expedition with Turalyon.
And now, she felt like she was having the same feeling with the Prince and the Archmage.
The Farstriders around her whispered in amazement at the spectacle before them. "Look at Prince Arthas," one of them said. "He fights like the very incarnation of the frost itself fighting a raging inferno!"
"And Lady Jaina," another chimed in. "Her magic is like the fury of the tundra itself!"
Sylvanas gritted her teeth, unable to argue with their praise. Each parry, each spell cast by the two seemed to highlight her own limitations. The weight of her bow felt heavier than ever before, the sting of defeat threatening to consume her. She had fought and bled for Quel'Thalas for so long, had suffered so much, and yet here she was, feeling like a mere bystander in her own war.
It didn't help the fact that her own reputation was on the line after the whole incident in the throne room regarding her negligence.
But she knew she couldn't let these thoughts grow. They needed the humans, needed all of them, to stand against this new threat.
"Sylvanas!" Halduron shouted over her, his arrows finding their marks against their adversaries. "Almost all civilians are moved to Silvermoon! We have to fall back as soon as possible!"
"I know!" she barked back in frustration.
Inwardly, she admitted that she was in awe of them, despite the jealousy that burned within her. She knew that without their help, Quel'thalas would've fallen sooner. With a sigh, she pushed aside her bitterness and focused on the her work. They were not fighting for glory or recognition, but for the lives of their people, for the very future of their world.
Wrathjaw threw caution to the wind, charging at Arthas with the reckless abandon of a creature that had nothing to lose. The prince met him with a grim smile as he twirled his runeblade casually before countering the incoming broadblade.
Suddenly, however, several green orbs of swirling dark energy came at him and Arthas jumped away and onto Light's Vengeance, gripping his war hammer and strapping it behind him.
He had the nerve to show up again. And Arthas felt the adrenaline of finishing him where he stood.
"Warchief.", Wrathjaw turned as he panted, finding Kel'thuzad approaching him from behind. "I suppose you needed assistance?", the necromancer mockingly asked the Fel Orc before him.
The red-skinned Orc grunted in anger at the frail human behind him. "Go back to wherever whole you've come from, you insufferable human.", Wrathjaw spat, focusing on Arthas. "I'll deal with this paladin fool!"
Kel'thuzad only smirked at the power Arthas has displayed. "Hardly a Paladin I might say,", he remarked, referring to the Prince. So the power of the Lich King flows through you. "Bravado does not alleviate your predicament, Warchief."
With a thump of his staff, Kel'thuzad watched as numerous slain Quel'dorei, and Orcs began to rise from their positions, picking up weapons as they charged back at the Alliance and their Quel'dorei allies. His open palm hovered on the ground as numerous corpses of the slain Scourge began to knit themselves, creating Abominations that blindly charged at the defenders.
Arthas gritted his teeth, dashing over to try and take down Kel'thuzad right here before he could get near the Sunwell. But Wrathjaw intercepted him, glaring at the Orc's defense of the necromancer that sent Arthas skidding away after the Fel Orc broke the lock between them.
It was clear that the tide had turned once again, and the enemy's relentless push was about to break through their lines. Marwyn, and Halduron immediately noticed the danger. "Prince Arthas!" he bellowed over the din. "We have to fall back! The evacuation is complete!"
The sudden swarm of gargoyles swooping down from the skies terrified the defenders. Their leathery wings blocked out the sun as they descended upon the already battlefield, talons and claws outstretched, ready to rip into flesh and bone. The sound of their shrieks pierced the air, adding to the cacophony of battle cries and clanging steel.
Sylvanas, alongside Anya, Velonara and Nathanos, took aim at the oncoming creatures, their arrows finding their marks with unerring precision. Yet for every gargoyle that fell, two more took its place, the sheer volume of their numbers overwhelming.
But they suddenly found themselves being swarmed by undead Quel'dorei and Orcs, forcing them back.
The Alliance at this point, began their retreat as they crossed the bridge. Jaina, Halduron, Marwyn and Jennalla organized the evacuation as Arthas ran behind them.
As the last of the civilians were escorted away by the remaining soldiers, Arthas conjured a bridge of ice over the chasm that separated them from the relative safety of the Alliance lines. He watched as Sylvanas, wielding her two curved blades against the onslaught along her companions as they fought to cover the retreat.
"Just go!" she called out to him, her voice strong despite the exhaustion etched on her face. "We'll hold them off! Get them to Silvermoon!"
Before Arthas could go back to them, a group of Orc catapults hurled several projectiles, destroying the bridge before he could cross to her. "Hold on!", he shouted, concentrating his power to create a frozen bridge for them to cross.
But the Blackrock artillery was merciless, and it prevented Arthas from connecting the two separate landmasses in order to get to them. "Protect my people, Prince!", Sylvanas shouted, panting. "That's all I ask!"
Jaina looked in horror, recognizing that she would be unable to reverse teleport them as she rushed over at Arthas. The undead, Amani and the Blackrock Clan are closing in on them. "We have to go, Arthas!", she pleaded with him, looking anguished as she saw the Ranger-General and her group continue to fight. "We'll get back to them! I promise!"
She wasn't sure if she's promising the possible to him.
As they reached the other side, the enemy closed in,the two watched in horror as Sylvanas and the Farstriders were engulfed by the swarm of blackened forms.
"Sylvanas!" he screamed. But she was gone, swallowed by the fog and the tide of the battle.
Halduron and the others looked back, their faces a mix of shock and sadness. "We have to go, Prince Arthas," Halduron regretfully stated upon seeing the entire scenario unfold. gently, placing a hand on Arthas's shoulder.
The prince's eyes burned with unshed tears and rage, his gaze never leaving the spot where Sylvanas had been.
He had made a promise to her, a promise to prevent the destruction of her people and the pain she had endured.
And now, she was in danger of facing the same fate once more.
Sylvanas remained determined as she turned to face the. Her quiver was empty, her bowstring frayed, but she stood tall, her blade ready to clash with the orc's weapon. Nathanos, Velonara and Anya, their faces etched with fatigue and the stains of battle, formed a protective semicircle around her, their blades reflecting the eerie moonlight.
The four braced themselves with dread. The sound of a catapult's release echoed through the night, and the world around them grew dark as a massive boulder hurtled towards them.
The impact was deafening, the ground trembling beneath their feet as the boulder shattered into a hundred deadly shards. Sylvanas, Velonara, Nathanos, and Anya were sent flying and they stumbled . As the dust settled, the only sound was the slow, painful breathing of the fallen heroes.
Nathanos, crawled defensively on Sylvanas' injured form as she lay down, groaning. "You...will not take her," he growled painfully.
He was knocked out by a poke onto his forehead by the lead necromancer, who then looked over at Sylvanas with mock formality. "My sincere apologies, Lady Windrunner," he said, his voice a cold, mocking hiss. "I would have preferred a more formal introduction, but we have much to discuss ."
Wrathjaw's grinned, despite the bleeding of his left eye. Sylvanas looked up defiantly at him, spitting at the Necromancer. "You will never break me...", she hissed.
The necromancer darkly chuckled at the claim. "A very poor choice of words, my lady."
Wrathjaw strode through the wreckage, his gaze lingering on Sylvanas's prone form. He leaned down, his teeth bared in a snarl, and brought the handle of his broadblade down hard upon her head. The Ranger-General's eyes rolled back, and she fell into a deep, unyielding blackness.
"Take her to Sunfall...", Kel'thuzad instructed Wrathjaw and his orcs. "We will have our discussion with her, there. With regards of the Key to unlock the gates."
Everything is going as planned.
Back at Silvermoon...
The return to Silvermoon was both relieving as it was disheartening.
Though many civilians have found refuge behind its walls, many also fell during the defense of the Inner Gate. And Arthas, Jaina, and Halduron returned to the throne room where Falric and Ranger-Lord Lor'themar Theron were speaking to King Anasterian.
"Your Highness, the evacuation is complete," Halduron announced wearily as he approached the throne. "But... we have lost the Ranger-General. She remained behind to cover our retreat."
The room fell silent at the news and the nobility and Quel'dorei warriors paled as their morale plummeted. Anasterian grew grim as he looked down while Lor'themar was shocked as he outraged by the loss. "What?" he exclaimed in anger and disbelief. "Is she still alive?"
Arthas stepped forward. "Sylvanas is alive. I can feel it." He turned to Anasterian. "We must rescue her, Your Majesty. If we don't, she'll be turned into one of them."
After everything you've put me through, woman, the last thing I'll give you is a peace of dearh.
NO! You wouldn't dare!
"To fight alongside her people only to be reanimated to slaughter them... it is a fate worse than death.", he continued.
The King's looked softened. "Her loss is too great," he lamented. "But she knew the risks. And she knew that if it came to it, we could not spare the troops to search for her, as the defense of Silvermoon is paramount to get our people to safety."
"Your Majesty, I understand your concern," the Prince urgently began. "But Sylvanas had already done so much that most haven't, who has bled for Quel'thalas countless times. We can't just leave her to that fate."
The King's response was a softened look. "Arthas, I assure you, my decision is not based on her failure to warn us about Dar'khan. She and her family have given everything to our homeland. But we have to be practical. The enemy's forces are overwhelming, and we are spread thin as it is. If we split our forces to rescue one person..."
Jaina stepped in, sharing Arthas' sentiment. "We can't abandon her, Your Majesty. It's very likely she's still alive for interrogation due to her post. Which means we still have a chance!'
Anasterian stood up, contemplating their words. "You both care for her deeply," he remarked with understanding. "But the risk is too great. Our priority must be the city and its people. We will not sacrifice the many for the few,"
"But think of-"
"Sylvanas knew the risks when she chose to stay behind.", Anasterian continued. "She would not want us to throw away our advantage for a slim chance at saving her."
Jaina looked at Arthas. "We can't let them take her," she whispered fearfully. "We can't let her become one of them again."
However, Halduron decided to step forward. "Your Highness, I must insist," the Ranger-Captain spoke. "We cannot abandon Sylvanas after all she had done despite her mistakes and if there is a chance to save her, we have to take it." He looked to his comrades, looking on Arthas and Jaina before returning to the king. "Let us, a small group of Farstriders and I, venture to Sunfall Fortress. We can move swiftly and quietly, minimizing the risk to our main forces."
"Sunfall?" The King echoed, skeptically. "It's been abandoned for years, and it's deep in enemy territory."
"But it's also the most likely place they would take her," Lor'themar interjected, voicing his support of their mission but knew he couldn't join them as he is still helping fortify the city. "It's where she'd be most secure from our reach, yet still with our own."
The group waited for the king's response. Finally, after much consideratio, Anasterian nodded slowly. "Very well," he said with a heavy sigh. "Halduron, take a small group of Farstriders. Prince Arthas and Lady Jaina will accompany you. But be swift, and be careful. Our forces cannot be stretched thin."
The two humans looked at one another, determined and hopeful. They had a mission, a chance to save Sylvanas from her terrible fare. They couldn't fail. "Thank you, Your Highness," she said, bowing her head slightly, followed by Aethas. "We will not disappoint you."
Halduron glanced at the two with approval. "We leave at first light," he announced, turning to the others. "Prepare yourselves. We have little time."
As the group dispersed, Jaina reached out and took Arthas's left hand in her own, giving it a gentle squeeze. "We're going to save her," she promised.
Arthas looked back at her with determination on his features. "We will," he agreed, his grip on her hand tightening. "One way or another, we will not have a Banshee Queen this time."
Heads up. Things would get even worse for Sylvanas. But we'll see! Haven't thought of a nam of Arthas' new runeblade and I'm still brainstorming at that. Rate and review!