Spectre: Final chapter of the Quel'thalas arc coming up.
Splash43: I could definitely see that. And Arthas would probably the one to give her therapy after all that jazz. And I personally don't think he could, because it might end up backfiring.
DragonANGL: She'll be getting them as part of her new power. I currently don't have any plans on killing of Dar'khan yet however, and the San'layn would likely be a thing.
WeirdBlockPoints: Yeah, I could see the Quel'dorei remaining with the Alliance, or at least lean heavily onto them after all that has happened. Yep, Arthas and Jaina are definitely cute in that very moment, just to show how much they truly cared for one another.
Sylvanas really did get it rough. And it might just get worse for her from here. And Arthas pretty much accepts Kel's old reasoning of her being like him. Of course doing so is just suicide and really gives them an imposing presence where they are the epitome of fear and how much their very presence had an impact. I'd say the Levels are quite Accurate though Arthas is likely Lvl 6 Death Knight at this point.
The Red Dragons are reserved for Dalaran, which is why they haven't brought that yet. As for Kalimdor, it's quite difficult to predict as of now.
Chapter 27: The Fall, Part 2
Looking over at the map before him, Tirion knew he had to play it safe. Currently, Lord Goodwin and Lady Calia are dealing with the growing amount of Elf refugees arriving through portals, which already overextended their resources to combat a growing refugee crisis. Fortunately, Stormwind under King Varian have began to send in a large amount of supplies from Westfall to alleviate the growing issue of grain, after several of Lordaeron's farmlands have been infected by the plague and many were burned to prevent its spread.
As Tirion continued to analyze the map and feeling the burden of his new responsibilities, he heard the war room's door open. "Saidan.", the Home Guard Commander looked up to greet his fellow compatriot from the Silver Hand. "How fares the order in the front lines?"
The veteran Paladin looked down for a moment, sighing as he took a seat. "We managed to hold off the rest of the Scourge, but unfortunately we have received news of King Thoras' death."
That wasn't good news one bit, as Lady Calia and Tirion had hoped that somehow Stromgarde would rejoin the Alliance at the eve of the Scourge invasion. However, Thoras' wish to exterminate the Orcs following the end of the Second War made it difficult for Tirion to grieve for the man.
What could Eitrigg be doing at these dire times?,Tirion thought for the Orc who had helped him before, and whom Tirion had personally saved though it resulted of his own exile. From what he had gathered, the rampaging Orcs fought under the banner of the Blackrock Clan and he earnestly hoped that Eitrigg is not among them.
"And what of Crown Prince Galen?", the former Paladin inquired. "How does he fare?"
The Lord Commander grimaced though his face turned into a frown at the mention of the man. "Rumors spread that he had a hand in the King's demise. But unfortunately in doing so, the Alteraci Syndicate and the Boulderfist Ogres saw the discord on the Kingdom and have begun attacking Stromgarde proper, and Galen has been sending requests for aid, even though we are still trying to stabilize the fronts that we are dealing with right now, old friend."
Tirion clicked his tongue in mild frustration. "And what of the other fronts in the Tirisfal Glades? In Hillsbrand and Southshore?"
"From recent reports, Highlord Morgraine and his forces are containing the undead back at Southshore.", Saidan gave out his report to Tirion. "General Abbendis and his forces are currently staging counter-attacks against Scourge strongholds at Hillsbrand, but the collateral damage is concerning as they believed that the civilians they encounter are infected while General Garithos have managed to stop the undead and orc advance at Eastweald and recaptured several settlements, but his personal opinions to non-human troops is at risk of alienating our dwarf and elf allies."
The Home Guard Commander hummed in deep thought. So far, so good with minor issues. "Saidan, have Dagren and his contingent to reinforce Highlord Morgraine and his men. Send in Isillien and other priests to deal with the mounting casualties Abbendis and his men would endure. Magroth and Halakh would be sent to oversee General Garithos' progress. I would remain to ensure that the that the flight of the elf refugees of Quel'thalas are treated well alongside Lord Goodwin."
Saidan crossed his arms. "This is what I was worried about when Prince Arthas decided to aid the elves.", he mumbled with a frown.
"King Terenas would not have turned them away.", Tirion reminded him. "We need to ensure their livelihoods are secured, especially since ignoring their plight would mean catastrophic consequences to their very existence."
"But I also suspect this is to make sure that the Elves would not turn to anyone else.", Saidan guessed, which Tirion only sighed, seeing that to be the case as Terenas would have liked for the Elves to remain allied with the Alliance. "I will be heading over at Stratholme to see the Silver Hand's assets be moved to the Capital City, so until then I could only bid you good luck in your new role, Lord Fordring."
Before Saidan left, he turned to Tirion. "Why have you returned?", he asked of him in curiosity. "After all that has happened between you and the Kingdom you have served?"
The Home Guard Commander looked down. "Because of a debt, Saidan.", he told him in reply. "Uther have acted in the name of the Light and with all his honor. As he had done for my family and to prevent my mistakes in tainting their very name."
"Of course you would go that far after that incident with the Orc.", the Lord Commander mumbled. "But why would you go that far for him?"
"A matter of honor, my friend.", Tirion replied, giving him a firm but earnest look. "Would you have done the same for him as well? If you were in my shoes?"
For a moment, Saidan could not have answered his question, instead shaking his head. "I hope for all our sakes, Prince Arthas did not make the mistake of making that appointment. But I am certain that our men would be able to weather the storm before us.", he remarked before he left the room, leaving Tirion to his thoughts as he continued to assess the situation.
Back at Silvermoon...
It was pandemonium within Silvermoon, as the Alliance and the Quel'dorei forces fell back within the city walls where the Scourge, the Blackrock Clan have renewed their advance and are now advancing further. The navies of Lordaeron and Quel'thalas have ferried as much civilians as they could and have sailed en route to the human Kingdom, while civilians scrambled to get through the portals once word reached of the order to fall back was given.
With the wrath of descending snowstorms, the three Frost Wyrms began to wreak havoc on Silvermoon itself, targeting the retreating forces relentlessly as they rampaged through buildings and unleashed blasts of frost magic indiscriminately at the soldiers and civilians below.
For Arthas, he knew that the moment that the Dreadlords themselves intervened, it was a battle they couldn't win but rather they needed to survive
"Falric, Marwyn, Halduron!" Arthas shouted over to them with the two human officers and the Ranger-Captain descending down to come over him. "Make sure the rest of the civilians have safely gone through the portals! Silvermoon is already lost!'
The elder human captain nodded instantly, looking over at the walls that were in risk of being breached by the enemy forces. "As you command, my lord!" Falric turned to his men.
As Falric and Marwyn turned to help ensure the civilians retreated, Arthas looked up with his eyes squinted as he studied the Frost Wyrms, trying to find a way to stop them. The creatures who were prided as one of the finest the Scourge could offer, were powerful, yes, but not invincible.
Facing Tichondrius and his ilk directly would be suicide for their men. So, he called out to Halduron, who was awaiting for whatever instructions the human Prince had inind. "Halduron, get me to one of those beasts!"
The Ranger-Captain was taken back with shock and he hesitated for a brief moment. "What are you planning, Prince Arthas?" he queried cautiously.
The Prince didn't have time for doubts. "I'll buy us time," he simply told him. "Right now, I need you to get me close to one of those Wyrms!"
Halduron looked as if he was asked to jump off the top of Blackrock Spire. "You can't be serious!" He exclaimed in both shock and incredulity.
"It's the only way!" Arthas insisted, looking over as one of the Frost Wyrms unleash a powerful blast of frost energy at Sunfury Spire. "I'll make sure they're dealt with, you have my word."
The Ranger-Captain still couldn't believe what Arthas had asked of him. But at this point, he was open to any suggestions from the human who came to their aid. With a nod, Arthas went to ride the Dragonhawk with Halduron, and they took to the skies.
Halduron's Dragonhawk shuddered as it approached the colossal Frost Wyrm, the beast's frost breath coating the air in a thick mist that stung their eyes and froze the moisture on their skin. "Hold on, Prince Arthas," Halduron yelled as he steered the creature closer to the monstrous dragon's tail.
Arthas nodded, gripping the side of the saddle, looking on the retreating figures of their comrades. "Now!" he shouted, and with a surge of adrenaline, he leaped from the dragonhawk's back, landing nimbly on the tail of the Frost Wyrm. His boots barely had time to touch the cold, scaly flesh before he began his ascent.
The dragon thrashed, sensing the sudden intrusion, but Arthas kept his grip. He climbed up its spine while fighting against the creature's attempts to dislodge him. His right hand reached out, plunging into the dragon's flesh.
While making sure the civilians are going straight into the portals, Jaina looked up, mouth agape as she saw Arthas riding behind one of the Frost Wyrms and she looked to find several Quel'dorei archers taking aim
"Hold your fire!" She ordered the archers, immediately. "The Prince is riding one of those!"
With a grimace and a look of determination, Arthas buried his right fist into the icy scales of the Frost Wyrm, feeling the creature's lifeblood pulse beneath his cold, infected skin. His eyes glowed in a turqoise light as he worked to override the Scourge's control of the creature.
Enough..., he mentally ordered, gripping its necromantic veins tightly like a vice. And follow your new master.
The Frost Wyrm reared its head in protest, but Arthas's will was absolute. With a sickening crunch, the prince felt the creature's essence bend to his command. The dragon's movements grew sluggish as he directed its power, turning the beast into an unwilling slave and weapon of destruction.
Using its veins as a makeshift rein, Arthas steered the beast down as it unleashed a powerful rain of frost against incoming Gargoyles, before he descended down to destroy several Meat Wagons before taking up to the skies.
Falric and Jaina watched in awe as Arthas have managed to take control of the Frost Wyrm, buying the others valuable time to escape.
"What sorcery is this?" one of the Quel'dorei archers whispered to her companion with astonishment.
"Not sorcery," Jaina replied, unleashing a powerful fireball against an incoming Gargoyle before it could swoop in a crying elf child. "Just as what we needed."
Arthas leaned into its neck, mentally giving commands as if to a wild steed. The beast's frosty breath coalesced into a raging blizzard, obliterating all in its path. The Scourge and Blackrock forces scrambled in terror and pain as the prince used the dragon's immense power to freeze them solid, leaving a trail of glittering, blue-tinted ice in its wake.
Liadrin searched frantically through the pandemonium as she called out for Vandellor, who was treating the wounded Quel'dorei warriors and civilians. It was growing desperate as she watched civilians basically causing a stampede through the portals while the navy have left to somewhere safe.
Please...help us in our darkest hour..., she prayed to the Light, trying her best to keep her conviction with it.
Finally, she spotted the elderly High Priest tending to the wounded, his glowing hands mending their injuries. Her heart swelled with pride and love for her mentor, but her stomach twisted with dread at the sight of the approaching danger.
"Vandellor!" she screamed, pushing through the throng of fleeing soldiers and civilians. "You have to come with us! We have to leave this place!"
The old priest looked up, looking weary but resolute in his work. "I cannot, my child," he called back, though it was clear that he was growing exhausted. "There are too many who still needed aid."
"But you can't stay!" Liadrin pleaded with tears threatening to spill from her eyes. "The city will fall, and we will all be lost!"
Vandellor's expression was one of sorrowful resignation. "I am at peace with my fate, my child," he said, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You have to go, I will not have you throw your life away for an old man."
Before Liadrin could argue further, an invisible force ripped Vandellor from her grasp, sending him hurtling through the air. She watched in horror as a demonic fist pierced through the the High Priest's chest, killing him almost instantly as he painfully looked at the woman of whom he raised like his own daughter before his eyes went blank.
"VANDELLOR!", she screamed in terror as she fell to her knees, helpless as she looked to find a creature as if it were manifested from their worst nightmares. His twin horns, massive wings, and obese build made him stand out amongst the creatures that have stormed Quel'thalas.
Detheroc merely chuckled with sadistic pleasure as he looked at the fallen High Priest then to Liadrin. "Another insignificant elf," he sneered. "Hardly worth the effort of crushing beneath our heel."
Liadrin felt a rage boiling within her, with hatred that did not befit a High Priestess. "You will pay for this," she growled tearfully as she struggled to stand.
A powerful blast of Fel energy erupted from Detheroc's hand aimed at Liadrin, but a powerful arcane barrier nullified the attack before Detheroc looked up to find a barrage of arcane bolts raining down on him. The Dreadlord countered by unleashing a carrion swarm, destroying the incoming projectiles as well as his own.
Belo'vir, reeling with the loss of his close friend, stepped protectively in front of Liadrin, looking at the Dreadlord with contempt as arcane energy coalesced around his hand. "Go, Liadrin." he said firmly. "Make sure our people live to see another day.
The High Priestess looked at him to find a mirror of her own pain and anger reflected there. Still, she couldn't abandon her mentor without exacting some form of vengeance. She drew her staff with trembling hands, the light of the Holy Light emanating from it. "No," she said, her voice shaking. "Vandellor is dead because of him. I will not leave without taking a piece of his foul soul with me."
Belo'vir nodded solemnly, understanding her need. "Very well, then.", he remarked in resignation. "For Vandellor."
Detheroc's grin grew wider as he took a step toward them. "How touching," he taunted. "Shall we?"
The two remaining Frost Wyrms turned to Arthas. Seeing his chance, Arthas leaped from the back of his commandeered beast with surprising agility towards the other Wyrm.
He hovered in the air for a brief moment, the Holy Light enveloping Light's Vengeance and augmenting its power over it. He brought. the hammer down onto the skull of the nearest Frost Wyrm, cracking it open like an eggshell. The creature let out an unearthly screech before falling into one of Silvermoon's many buildings before his stolen mount swooped in time to let him land behind its back.
The Prince saw the other beast barreled towards them, jaws agape. "Lor'themar! Now!" he shouted to the Ranger-Lord below him.
The Ranger-Lord took this into stride as he directed the Quel'dorei Glaive Throwers. "Aim for the core!"
The elven soldiers complied as they took aim at the Frost Wyrm that Arthas had brought down with a tackle from his own. The glaives shot forth, their trajectory true, piercing the thick scales and striking the creature's core, which had been laid bare by the tussle. The first few glaives bounced off the ice-covered flesh without effect, but as the second volley hit, there was a flash of light and an explosion of frost. The Frost Wyrm shrieked in agony as the holy power within the glaives melted the very essence of the beast, reducing it to a pile of shattered ice and lifeless flesh.
"Good shot!", Arthas shouted as he held onto the bucking form of the Frost Wyrm beneath him. The creature's movements grew weaker with each passing moment, its power waning under the prince's relentless control.
Tichondrius, watching the battle unfold from his vantage point atop the icy ramparts of Silvermoon found himself annoyed at the audacious display given by Ner'zhul's former chosen.
Unleashing a torrent of Fel-infused flames, he aimed directly at the prince and his stolen mount. The dragon roared in pain as the fire enveloped it, and Arthas was thrown from its back, plummeting towards the ground. In a flash of icy blue, he concentrated the power of his corrupted arm, waving at the ground below him. The concrete before him erupted into a frozen ramp, and he slid down it safely as he regained his bearings.
As he reached the bottom, Jaina was there, rushing over him with several of their men from the 1st Legion. "Arthas, are you alright?"
He nodded, panting heavily. "I am, Jaina...", he assured her, looking over to the diminishing numbers or civilians fleeing the city through the portals. "We have to get to Quel'danas as soon as possible and make sure the Sunwell doesn't fall."
The Archmage looked to find the ships of both the High Elves and of Lordaeron departing from Quel'thalas and to the decreasing number of civilians escaping the carnage. "But what about the people still here?" she pointed out in concern.
"Halduron and the remaining Dragonhawks will cover the fleet from any aerial incursion.", the Prince added, a task that Halduron quickly accepted. "He'll make sure the ships get to Lordaeron."
Lor'themar looked at Arthas. "And what of you?"
"We have to make sure Anasterian and his men would be able to seal of the Sunwell in any way we can.", he further added, and the Ranger-Lord and several warriors came forward to offer their help. Arthas then turned to Magister Cillias, who had arrived on horseback. "Take us to Quel'danas," he ordered. "Now."
The Magister nodded, and with a gesture of his staff, the air around them shimmered. The group disappeared in a burst of light, leaving the battlefield and the bewildered Halduron behind. The Ranger-Captain watched them go, then turned his attention to the fleeing ships where he directed his Dragonhawk over to them along with several surviving riders.
"Falric, gather what remained of our men and the Farstriders and protect the civilians Thay still remained," Arthas called out as they vanished. "We'll meet you back at Blackwood."
The captain of the guard nodded. "May the light guide you," he murmured, before turning to address his troops. "Protect the exodus! For the Alliance and for Quel'thalas!"
Meanwhile at Quel'danas...
Within the sacred grove of Quel'danas, Anasterian and Thalorien sliced through numerous Ghouls and undead seamlessly. Felo'melorn and Quel'Delar fought through groups of undead that have managed to breach through Archonsius, engaging the garrison that had been stationed there. Despite his age Anasterian fought resolutely though his movements were a bit sluggish compared to Thalorien, who fought with every inch of his fibre with considerable agility and movement.
"Your Majesty...", the Royal Guard Captain panted as he sliced apart an undead High Elf's head mournfully. "How did they managed to breach through Archonsius? Isn't it supposed to be accessible to only a scant few?"
Anasterian supported himself with Felo'melorn, exhausted. "I do not know, Thalorien.", he admitted but he could still hear the incoming footsteps and gutteral groans of the undead. "All that we could do now, is to make sure the Sunwell remains protected..."
As they awaited whatever comes at them, they heard incoming footsteps from a single man. And the two's fury were immediately directed at him when they realized as to who this was.
Dar'khan, the wretched betrayer. His ghastly features greatly contrasted his once elegant frame, and his eyes were glowing in a sickly light and unfamiliar green flames wrapped around his fist like a child showing off a new toy before them. "Your Majesty.", Dar'khan greeted with a smirk. "May I humbly request the Sunwell's use for a few friends?"
The King's grip onto Felo'melorn tightened, forcing himself to gather whatever strength he could against him. "Traitor..." Anasterian spat at the traitorous Magister. "You traded your own homeland for your ambition..."
Dar'khan merely smirked in response, waving his Fel-augmented hand as a show of his ego. "The times have changed, my lord," he retorted. "And so have I."
Thalorien furiously pointed Quel'delar to the turncoat. "How did you and your newfound ilk breach through the enchantments protecting Quel'danas?"
"Your wards meant nothing to us," Dar'khan cackled, as several undead Quel'dorei flanked him. "Lord Tichondrius' gift made it a simple task to bypass even the most complicated enchantments the Magisters had to offer!"
Anasterian and Thalorien were furious but they had no time for grief or anger. They had to protect the Sunwell at all costs if their people are to survive. "Your treachery will not go unanswered, Dar'khan." the King snarled, raising Felo'melorn as the runeblade's power began to manifest at the traitor.
But before they could lunge right at him, a new presence intervened. Mal'Ganis had appeared in a swirl of carrions, standing in front of Dar'khan, looking frustrated and annoyed at making sure the elf succeeds.. "We have need of it.,", he declared menacingly. "And in return, we shall grant you a... different fate."
Thalorien gritted his teeth at the Dreadlord, but he could feel the doubt and fear that is festering within him. "Not in this, or any other lifetime!"
Anasterian stepped beside his loyal guard. "We will not hand over our people's very essence to you, demon!"
The Dreadlord's glare onto them only intensified. "Then so be it."
Screams of agony, unforgiving explosions, the sound of blood-curling cries of the Scourge and their allies are all that Sylvanas could hear as she stumbled out of the medical wing and into the city streets
She could hear surviving Magisters and human officers leading the remaining civilians into the portals into safety. Other support and auxiliary staff had also joined in along with the wounded to the exodus.
But the Ranger-General has no intention fleeing her homeland. Where all she could think of, is getting that monster's head on a pike after what had happened at Sunfall.
Silvermoon was already being torn apart by the relentless onslaught of the Scourge, orcs and trolls. Sylvanas knew that she was in nowhere in fighting shape, but she didn't care. With a furious snarl, she broke into a sprint despite her unhealed wounds, her legs moving on instinct alone.
Her thoughts were like a never ending whirlwind of anger and despair that weighted in her failure to act.
Alleria and Lireesa have gave it their all to protect Quel'thalas, and she will not fail her duty as a a leader. Despite the failures that she had a hand in causing.
Buildings were being burned routinely by advancing Orcs and trolls along with acts of pillaging, corpses being resurrected by the Scourge. She saw her warriors fighting desperately to protect their people, despite the fear from what she saw in their very eyes. The sight filled her with a fierce pride, but also with a burning anger that had already overtaken her logical reasoning.
All Sylvanas could see was a world tainted red, as if manifested by the pain, sorrow, rage and determination that the necromancer brought out to her with that sadistic grin of his.
"Where are you!?" she screamed into the fray amidst the destruction, her voice lost among the chaos of battle. "FACE ME, COWARD!"
Each moment that had passed was a battle against her own weakness as she searched for the necromancer. The city she had sworn to protect was crumbling before her eyes, and she could not bear the thought of letting it fall without taking her vengeance.
"Shindu fallah na! (They have broken through!) The Orcs and the Trolls are advancing!"
"Minn'da! (Mama!) Minn'da! (Mama!)"
"Fall back! Fall back!"
"Silvermoon is lost!"
Every word she had heard was a direct punch to her gut, proving it to be more hurtful than any battlefield wound as her negligence came back to haunt her back.
None of this could have happened if she had listened.
And now, her people are paying the price for her mistakes.
Each step she took as she ran had sent jolts of agony through her injured form, but she pushed on, driven by the fierce need to avenge her people. The streets are littered with the lifeless forms of elves and humans alike. The cries of the dying and the moans of the undead melded into a cocktail of despair that filled her ears and fueled her anger.
The once-beautiful spires of her city lay in ruins, the vibrant gardens were now a desolate wasteland of frost and decay. She fell upon the crumpled form of a young elf, his quiver empty, his bow broken beside him. His name was forgotten in the chaos, but the sight of his youthful face, forever marred by the horrors of war, brought a tear to her eye.
"I won't let this go unanswered," she uttered in determination, grunting in pain of feeling the internal wound to her stomach while looking at her oddly colored ashen-gray hand. "They will all pay for this..."
Sylvanas pushed through the crown of soldiers and civilians. Despite the chaos and horror that surrounded her, she remained focused on her singular goal. All that she felt were of anger and sorrow, each step she took fueled by the pain of her grief and the promise of vengeance.
"Kel'thuzad," she hissed through gritted teeth with desperation. "Anya...Velonara...Nathanos..."
The Scourge, Amani and Blackrock forces grew dense.. The stench of their rotting flesh filled her nostrils, but she would not be deterred. Every orc, every troll, was an obstacle standing between her and the one she sought. With only a dagger as her weapon as she is yet to find a more suitable weapon, she managed to evade an incoming blow of an axe from a troll before she whirled and slit his throat open. A Blackrock warrior charged after her, only for Sylvanas to jump out of the way and plunge the weapon onto his head.
"Where is he!?" she screamed in rage and despair as the memories of Sunfall came flashing back within her mind's eye. "Where is that monster!?"
The area around her grew more and more chaotic with the the clang of steel against steel, the sickening crunch of bone, and the anguished cries of the dying. Yet amidst the chaos, she heard the faintest echo of a laugh—a laugh that sent a shiver down her spine and ignited a fire in her soul.
She finally found Captain Marwyn, one of Arthas' chief officers as he directed the remaining Quel'dorei civilians and wounded soldiers through the portals to Lordaeron. She locked onto him like a hawk spotting its prey, and she staggered through the carnage-strewn streets of Silvermoon, stumbling momentarily through the pain but managing to get back to her feet moments later.
The younger Captain was shocked as Sylvanas stumbled towards him, her armor in tatters and her eyes burning with a fury that seemed to set the very air around her alight. "Lady Windrunner!" he exclaimed, rushing over her to help her up. "What are you doing here?"
Sylvanas' hand shot out like a whip, her fingers digging into the fabric of his collar and yanking him closer. "Where is he?" she snarled, her teeth bared. "Where is Kel'thuzad?"
Marwyn was taken back at the sudden hostile action, but he managed to come up with a response. "I...I don't know but the prince and the others are in Quel'danas," he managed to get out. "They're trying to stop Kel'thuzad from going to the Sunwell."
The Ranger-General's grip tightened, her knuckles white with rage. "Take me to them," she ordered, her voice a low growl. "Now."
Marwyn tried to protest, looking down to the grievous wounds that marred her body. "My lady, you're not in any condition to fight," he protested. "You need rest, healing."
Sylvanas' eyes narrowed to slits, and she shoved him away from her and to his men. "I do not need your pity, human," she spat. "I need to make him pay for what he's done to my people!"
Marwyn took a step back, as Thassarian helped him up with Koltira. "And what of your people here?" he countered. "Do you intend to leave them to die?"
For a moment, Sylvanas seemed to waver, the weight of her losses crashing down upon her. Then, with a snarl, she straightened, her gaze never leaving Marwyn's. "I will not abandon them," she said through clenched teeth. "But I will not let Kel'thuzad live to see another sunrise."
"But you're going get yourself killed out there!", Marwyn protested but she kept going as if she didn't hear him.
With that, she turned and stormed off. Marwyn watched her go, his jaw set in a tight line. He knew he couldn't force her to stay, but he also knew the madness of grief could drive her to her doom. "May the Light guide your aim," he uttered before turning back to his own duties, and hoped that she wouldn't do anything reckless to herself and potentially her people.
Sylvanas stepped over the countless bodies, her every breath a battle cry. She had lost so much, and she was not about to let Kel'thuzad win. She would see him dead, even if it meant her own end.
Her thoughts raced as she staggered through the chaos. Anya's pleading eyes, Velonara's lifeless gaze, Nathanos' finaloments and the echo of Kel'thuzad's taunts fueled her steps. Her mind was filled of rage and pain, but one thing remained clear: Kel'thuzad would pay for the suffering he had brought upon her and her people.
And then, she saw it. The crumpled form of Magister Ainetu lay on the ground, a teleportation scroll clutched in his cold, lifeless hand. With trembling fingers, she pried it from his grip.
With trembling hands, Sylvanas unfurled the scroll, the arcane symbols dancing before her eyes. She had never used such magic before, but the desperation within her lent her strength and the scroll crackled with power, and a moment later, she was enveloped in a cocoon of swirling light, the world around her blurring into oblivion.
When the light dissipated, she found herself in the heart of Quel'danas, the very isle where the Sunwell is located. The sight that greeted her was one of unimaginable horror. The once-verdant lands were now scarred by the frost of the Scourge's touch. The ground was stained with the crimson of elven blood, and the lifeless bodies of her kin were scattered like broken dolls with beautiful forms now twisted and broken.
"Kel'thuzad," she hissed, looking the horizon for any sign of the necromancer. Her thoughts were a blend of anger and despair, but she would not let them cloud her focus. Revenge was all she had left.
Several Ghouls and undead Quel'dorei came charging at her, but all she saw in them are obstacles. Sylvanas moved with a predatory grace, her bow singing a deadly tune as she took aim at the rotting figures that approached her. Her every shot found its mark, and with each one that fell, she grew closer to her target.
Meanwhile...
"Come on! We have to move now!", Arthas barked out, running over the numerous corpses of undead and Quel'dorei warriors as they followed the trail of slaughter deeper into the Sunwell. He, Jaina, Lor'themar and several High Elf warriors continued their sprint to find King Anasterian and the Royal Guard defending the Sunwell. The group entered the building, down a curved staircase littered with elven and undead bodies, passed through a thin red curtain, and into the wide open room containing the Sunwell itself...
The room was nothing short of a slaughter house, hordes of elven bodies scattered everywhere, a literal ring of fallen corpses surrounding the glowing font of power. Before they entered the room, the door burst open to reveal the broken body of Thalorien Dawnseeker, motionless and unmoving.
They turned to find Anasterian struggling to hold his ground against the horrifyingly fast assaults of Mal'Ganis with his Fel-infused claws before managed to rip out Felo'melorn from his grasp and slashed across the aging King's torso.
"YOUR MAJESTY!", Lor'themar roared in terror and anger as he and his men began their charge at the Dreadlord. However, Dar'khan acted swiftly, unleashing a torrent of chain lightning that immobilized and wounded the Ranger-Lord and his men.
"Don't be so hasty, old friend.", Dar'khan mockingly cautioned. "I wouldn't want you to ruin the main event."
Standing in the center of the font, was Kel'Thuzad, holding his staff on one hand and holding a dagger to another, looking at Arthas with a sneer. "Hello, my Prince! How well is your father?", he mocked. "Terribly sorry at how the trial went. Pure coincidence, I assure you."
The human Prince stiffened in anger but a grip on his arm from Jaina staved off it off for now. "I should have killed you at Andorhal when I had the chance...", Arthas seethed out resentment.
"And miss the rebirth of a new order?", the necromancer sneered. "I think not but I believe we have more important matters to deal with than an aged old fool who became the very epitome of elven arrogance and thought himself better than all."
The Archmage raised her staff in anger, preparing to blast Kel'thuzad with a well-timed fireball but Arthas stopped her. "Don't. If we kill him now, the sooner we're getting an ArchLich.", he cautioned her, which Jaina looked dismayed as they needed to get him out of the Sunwell at once, while also looking over at Dar'khan and Mal'Ganis.
"But what could we do, Arthas?", she asked him, desperate for an answer.
"I'll stall him, and see if you can try and discreetly summon a water elemental without alerting him.", Arthas told her.
Lor'themar tensed, coming to a halt before changing focus, rushing to and kneeling next to his King who was clutching the massive wound that the Dreadlord gave him.
"I suggest you leave, Ranger-Lord," Kel'thuzad remarked. "If you still value the life of your King. A shame Prince Kael'thas hasn't arrived yet. He would've loved to see this, as one scholar to another."
Jaina and Arthas looked at one another, fearing that Kael would have to go through everything that happened to him in the previous timeline.
The Prince strapped Light's Vengeance behind his back, summoning his runeblade as he pointed it at Kel'thuzad. "Step out of the Sunwell and we'll settle this between us."
Kel'Thuzad smiled, comfortably swaying a little, letting his robes send ripples through the empowered water. "I'm afraid not, you see I'm rather comfortable here. I have been receiving rather...unkind messages from the Lich King himself.
Arthas' eyes narrowed at the mention of Ner'zhul. "And what does he want now?", he asked with a snarl.
"He still awaits his champion, my Prince.", Kel'thuzad informed him, which caught Lor'themar and the surviving elves off guard while Jaina moved closer to Arthas protectively. "It would have been a shame to have those talents of yours come to waste. He had already foreseen the fall of the Eastern Kingdoms to the very master he serves. And would you waste the opportunity to save your people?"
"Ner'zhul is many things...", Arthas began. "And a false prophet is certainly one of them. He may claim to see the future, but all he does is send his own underlings to do his work and claim that it was written all the same."
The necromancer's eyes narrowed. "Tell me, my Prince...", he began slowly, tapping his staff onto the enchanted waters of the Sunwell. "Has everything that happened all the worth saving the lives you were meant to take?"
"After seeing what kind of schemes you and the Scourge are planning? Then yes.", Arthas spat. "And the Scourge became desperate enough to seek the aid of trolls and orcs alike when it was clear that none of you could get to Lordaeron or any other Kingdom by yourselves.'
Kel'thuzad's expression grew to a frown. "The Lich King has expected you to take the blade and become his very champion. And he still considers you as such if you wish to obtain the power that would protect your people."
"I already have the power to protect them from the likes of you.", Arthas shot back.
He smiled wryly. "Well, after you displayed a public and uncanny knowledge about the Scourge and our plans, the Lich King grew rather curious you see."
Jaina tensed, a sinking sensation in her stomach. "From what it seems, it looked as if you knew the very script of the play that our plans have foretold. As if you have known all of it. Andorhal, Stratholme, Northrend. And now, Quel'thalas.", he pointed out which caused Arthas and Jaina's blood to freeze, seeing that Kel'thuzad may have an idea as to what is going on.
"Is there something you're not telling us, my Prince?", he further queried in curiosity.
The Prince remained calm. "If there is, who is going to believe that?", he challenged. "You may claim many things, Kel'thuzad. But whatever merit you may carry won't do you any good at these circumstances."
Kel'thuzad looked over at Jaina. "Jaina, my dear. Do you perhaps know anything unusual about him?"
Of course, she's not going to give him that satisfaction. "Don't call me 'dear', Kel'thuzad," spat the Archmage, "You would say anything to turn people against each other. Antonidas made a mistake transferring you to Lordaeron."
"Hmm, a lost opportunity for you," said Kel'Thuzad.
"Can you reverse teleport him?" Lor'themar inquired as soft as he could, they needed him dead, before he ruined everything.
"I'm not sure," Jaina reluctantly answered, "He's tapped into the Sunwell directly, he could counter any spell we cast. But we need to stall him a bit longer before we could be able to restrain him."
Arthas nodded at the Archmage, deciding to further humor him. "What else are you planning to do, Kel'thuzad? Without a champion, is Ner'zhul a permanent lapdog to the Burning Legion, now?"
Kel'thuzad rubbed the blade of the dagger on his chin. "Hmm...", the necromancer pondered. "He has several candidates in mind. Though Lord Uther have been quite the promising candidate."
Arthas felt his blood freeze at mention of Uther while Jaina looked horrified at think what they were going to do to him. "What do you know of Uther? What are they doing to him?"
The Necromancer smirked at him. "Improvements. From what the Lich King and Lord Tichondrius have told me."
"What kind of improvements?", Arthas pressed on angrily. "What are they doing to Uther?"
That very day during the attack on the capital. The day he sent Uther to the dungeons to secure Kel'thuzad, only for him to run into Tichondrius that ended with his defeat and capture, leading him to assume the very worse on what would happen.
A chuckle escaped Kel'thuzad's lips. "Balnazzar and Varimathras had quite the time with him. They broke him down, piece by piece," he remarked with sadistic. "Body first, then the mind. When that was gone," his expression grew more malicious, "they went for his soul. He has such a strong spirit, but it could only get him so far..'"
Arthas's grip on his runeblade tightened, wanting to freeze Kel'thuzad from where he stood but he had to control himself. "What do you mean 'improvements'?" .
"Why, they're making him into what you could never be," Kel'thuzad answered him. "A fine weapon of the Scourge. They're rebuilding him, twisting what remains into something so vile, so powerful, that even Tichondrius is impressed. Although, Ner'zhul found him better to be the very hand that would forge his eventual champion."
The humans' expressions turned into an ugly grimace. The horror of what they were doing to Uther, a man they called a friend and mentor, filled him with a cold fury that surged through his very bones. "What are they turning him into?" he demanded venomously
Kel'thuzad took a few steps further on the Sunwell's waters. "You'll learn," he whispered. "But he is a perfect blend of purity and decay."
The Prince knew Kel'thuzad is trying to provoke him into delivering the final blow, and he had to keep himself from doing anything reckless.
Arthas knew all too well the fate of a Death Knight, the endless cycle of servitude to the Lich King, the loss of self. And now, it was happening to Uther. "You will tell me where he is," he further demanded just as Jaina began to discreetly summon the Water Elemental behind Kel'thuzad.
"You don't have to, my Prince...", the former Kirin Tor assured him. "He will come to you...in time...although Lady Windrunner is also an interesting case...
Arthas and Jaina stiffened, remembering the gruesome deaths of Anya, Velonara and Nathanos by his very hands as he tried to break Sylvanas' back at Sunfall. "What do you mean?", Jaina demanded.
The necromancer cackled. "Her screams was music to my ears, truly. Such a pity she had to die, but her fear was... utterly entertaining."
As Sylvanas stumbled across the bloody corridors, she immediately knew that was Anya as whom he is describing of, which only fueled her anger even further.
Kel'thuzad took a moment to savor the thought, relishing the pain he knew his words were causing Arthas and Jaina. "And her loyal followers, they died like the animals they were."
His gaze shifted to Jaina, who had gone pale at the mere mention of the bodies they found at Sunfall. "The way the young one's blood spurted out, painting the floor a lovely shade of crimson. And the Ranger-Lord," he chuckled darkly, "His touching words were quite the performance. But the best was the love-struck one," Kel'thuzad's voice grew softer, more sinister, "his neck snapped with such... elegance. It was a sight to behold, really."
Lor'themar was horrified, as he now knew the extent as to what had happened back at Sunfall and hearing it further from the enemy made his stomach hurl.
With a growl and his patience ended, Arthas shouted. "Jaina, now!"
Kel'thuzad didn't have time to react as the Water Elemental managed to constrict Kel'thuzad's arms, dropping both his staff and his dagger as it tried to restrain him. Dar'khan was about to move in to assist him, but a hand from Mal'Ganis stopped him, sensing a presence nearby.
The necromancer cackled. "Be my guest, my friends!", he egged them on. "Death is only but a stage to transcendence!"
Sylvanas couldn't take it anymore.
All those memories. His taunts. The screams. Their final moments. All coming back to her like a ghost as she felt her own mind no longer in control from the hurricane of emotions.
Anya, Velonara and Nathanos' final moments etched into her mind which only fueled the adrenaline of despair and rage within her as she burst into the chamber.
Arthas quickly turned to find Sylvanas bringing her bow to bear, as did Jaina as she saw the injured Ranger-General coming to the fray and her face that contained rage, despair, grief, sorrow and vengeance. "SYLVANAS, NO!", the Prince shouted out for her, rushing at her to stop her from killing Kel'thuzad.
With a roar fueled by rage and loss, Sylvanas emerged from the chaos, her bowstring thrumming as she released an arrow that streaked through the air, aimed straight for Kel'thuzad's heart.
"KEL'THUZAD!" she screamed, her voice a battle cry that pierced the tumult around them.
Arthas, Jaina, and Lor'themar watched in horror as the projectile found its mark, burying itself deep within the necromancer's chest. But instead, Kel'thuzad threw back his head and laughed—a sound that chilled the marrow of their bones. The shaft of the arrow quivered for a moment before being repelled by the unnatural force that surrounded him.
Dar'khan and Mal'Ganis watched in amusement as the entire scene unfold.
"Thank you, my dear." Kel'thuzad rasped as his eyes are now alight with a dark power as he yanked the shaft from his body. "Your hatred has made this so much easier!"
The Sunwell itself shrieked and wined as dark energy corrupted it's glowing waters, spreading like a plague as Kel'thuzad fell backwards, laughing as their plan finally came to fruition.
Every elf present gasped as the arcane energy was polluted and cut off from them. Out of the corrupted Sunwell rose the terrifying visage of the Arch-Lich of the Scourge. Headdress looming high on his horned head. His skeletal form levitating with powerful blue energy pulsating between his exposed rib-cage. Chain spun around him, illuminating and rattling. The pure raw energy he radiated made nervous beads of sweat roll down her forehead as his glowing eye sockets leveled at her.
Sylvanas watched in horror as Kel'thuzad's lifeless form was enveloped by the shadowy embrace, his body contorting and reshaping into something monstrous—an ArchLich.
"NO!" she screamed in abject horror and despair.
But her protests fell on deaf ears as Kel'thuzad's new form rose above the water. His laughter grew louder, the sound reverberating through the city like a tolling bell of doom.
"You fools," he taunted, his voice now a symphony of the damned. "You have granted me the power to claim what I desire most!"
The three leaders stared in disbelief as Kel'thuzad's corrupted blood seeped into the Sunwell, the holy waters hissing and steaming as the necromancer's essence began to corrupt it.
Back at Silvermoon...
Elsewhere, Falric stood guard over the final exodus of the city's inhabitants, looking for any sign of trouble. He watched as every soul that passed through the shimmering portals, leaving their once-glorious homeland to the merciless clutches of the orcs, trolls and Scourge. As the line dwindled to a trickle, he caught sight of High Priestess Liadrin and Belo'vir engaged in a desperate struggle against the Dreadlord Detheroc.
Belo'vir and Liadrin felt the Sunwell's loss as a sudden, agonizing wave of powerlessness swept through them. Detheroc's grin grew wider as he took advantage of their weakened state. In a swift, brutal movement, the Dreadlord sliced through the air with his Fel-infused claws, and Liadrin watched in horror as they connected with Belo'vir's right arm.
The Grand Magister's arm fell to the ground, the severed limb lying lifeless beside him as he was kicked away, his face contorted in pain.
"Belo'vir!'", she shouted helplessly as she tried to cast upon the Holy Light, but in her weakened state, she could not. But Detheroc was not deterred. He roared with malicious delight and sent a blast of scorching Fel flames towards Liadrin.
The captain reacted instinctively, throwing himself in front of her with his shield brought to bear as it bear the brunt of the attack. However, the shield shattered impact, sending shards of burning metal into Falric's flesh as he yelled in pain.
"Falric!" Liadrin screamed in fear and despair as she watched the human captain's left arm burn, the very essence of his being seared by the corruptive fire. Detheroc approached, his laugh echoing through the streets like a taunting chant of victory.
"Leave them," Belo'vir's voice was strained, his own strength waning as he clutched the stump of his right limb. "You have what you came for."
"Ah, but the day is still young, Grand Magister," Detheroc sneered, raising his claws for the killing blow.
Tears streamed down Liadrin's cheeks as she cradled Falric's injured arm. "Please," she begged. "Please, no more."
But the Grand Magister knew that this was a fight they couldn't win, not here, not now. With a heavy heart, he channeled the last of his power and teleported the two away from the scene of carnage.
"Belo'vir!" Liadrin's scream was one of desperation and agony as she reached out, as if she could somehow pull him through the vast distance but they found themselves at the border between Quel'thalas and Lordaeron, near Silverpine Forest.
Falric, barely conscious, groaned in pain as he tried to push himself up. "What has happened?" he uttered weakly.
"We... we failed," the High Priestess' shoulders shook violently. "We left him behind."
Falric's eyes snapped open and he looked at Liadrin, her face a mask of despair. "No..." he managed to croak, weakly getting close to her as he tried to comfort a grieving elf whose world has been torn apart.
Back at Quel'danas...
"Fall back! Fall back, now!" Lor'themar quickly ordered with all the strength his lungs could handle through the chaos, the desperation clear in his tone. The elves around them began to retreat, their eyes wide with terror as they watched the transformation before them.
Sylvanas, however, remained rooted to the spot as she kept looking at the monstrosity that Kel'thuzad had become. The ground beneath her trembled as the Sunwell writhed in agony, the very essence of their civilization being corrupted before her eyes. "No...no...no..." she incoherently uttered, her mind reeling with the horror of what she had done. Her rage had driven her to attack the necromancer, but instead of delivering the killing blow, she had given him the very power he had sought.
Her legs buckled beneath her, and she collapsed to her knees, her hands clutching at her head. "I...I've doomed us all!" she screamed, her voice breaking as sobs tore through her. "...I've led us to this...to our end!"
Arthas and Jaina rushed to her side, their own faces etched with shock and despair. "Sylvanas!" Arthas urgently called out, though he was dismayed at what she had done, "we have to go, now! We'll save what we can still save!."
But she was beyond reason, her mind shattering beneath the weight of her grief. "You don't understand!" she shrieked, her eyes wild and unfocused. "I've failed you all! Failed Quel'Thalas! Failed...failed..." Her sobs grew louder, each one a wrenching cry from the depths of her soul.
Jaina tried to pull her to her feet, but Sylvanas was inconsolable, her body shaking with the force of her anguish. "We have to leave, Sylvanas!" The Archmage urgently cried out. "We'll get back to him to another day! But we have to leave this place!"
"There will be no other day!" Sylvanas wailed. "Look what I've done! I've brought the Scourge to our doorstep, and now I've given them the very power to kill us all!"
Arthas knelt beside her, trying to pull her out. "You didn't do this," he tried to assure her. "You didn't mean to-."
But she would not be comforted. "I did this! ME!" she screamed, her voice echoing through the chamber. "I killed us all!"
With a final, desperate effort, Arthas and Jaina managed to hoist her to her feet, her legs dragging as they half-carried her from the scene of their impending destruction. As they stumbled away from the horror, Sylvanas could feel the warmth of the life-giving waters fading, replaced by a cold, unyielding darkness that threatened to consume them all.
"Get us out of here, Jaina!", Arthas called out, watching as Magister Cillias teleport Lor'themar and the remaining warriors out of the Sunwell along with Anasterian. Jaina wasted no time, and she quickly activated the teleportation spell that casted them out of Quel'danas, amidst Sylvanas' sobs.
Yep, that wraps up Quel'thalas. Yes, Sylvanas did some questionable judgement here. And now, we'll deal with a couple of interlude chapters before heading over to Dalaran. What are your thoughts? Rate and review!
