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knew to be golden play upon Arthas s features, softening them and lending them an artificial
warmth. Then he upended the contents of an exquisitely crafted urn into the waters, and the
radiance changed. It began to pulse and swirl, and inside the swirling center of the damaged
magical glow
a shadow
Even after all she had witnessed this dark day, even after what she had become, Sylvanas was
stunned at what emerged from the befouled Sunwell, rising and lifting its arms to the skies. A
skeleton, horned and grinning, its eye sockets burning with fire. Chains snaked around it and
purple vestments fluttered with its movements.
I am reborn, as promised! The Lich King has granted me eternal life!
It had all been for this? To raise this single entity? All the slaughter, the torment, the terror; the
unspeakably precious and vital Sunwell corrupted, a way of life that had lasted for thousands of
years shattered for this?
She stared sickly at the cackling lich, and the only thing that gave her even a hint of surcease
from the agony was watching Dar Khan, who had attempted to betray his master as he had
betrayed his people, dying, as she had done, from Frostmourne s keen edge.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The cold wind tousled Arthas s white hair, caressed his face, and he smiled. It was good, to be
again in the colder part of this world. The elven land, with its eternal early summer, heavy with
the scents of blossoms and growth, had made him uneasy. It reminded him too much of the
gardens of Dalaran, where he had spent so much time with Jaina; of the snapdragons of the
Balnir farm. Better the wind, to scour him clean, and the coldness, to quell those memories. They
no longer served him, but weakened him, and there was no room for weakness in the heart of
Arthas Menethil.
He was, as ever, atop his loyal horse, Invincible. He had had a bad moment in Quel Thalas,
when that bastard king Anasterian had cowardly attacked an innocent steed rather than its rider,
severing its legs in the same way that in life had caused Invincible s death. The incident had
catapulted Arthas back in time to those horrible moments, shaking him to the core and in the
case of the battle with Anasterian, unleashing an icy rage that in the end had served him well.
Before and behind him, his army marched through the snowy pass, untiring, unaffected by the
cold. Somewhere in among their ghastly number floated a banshee. Arthas would let Sylvanas
be, for the moment. He was more interested in Kel Thuzad, who glided beside him almost
serenely, if such a word could ever be applied to a lich. He was the one who had directed the
Scourge to this remote, frozen place, and Arthas had until now not questioned. But the trek was
getting boring, and he was curious. The prince felt a smile curve his lips.
So, he quipped, you re not upset about me killing you that one time?
Don t be foolish, the undead necromancer replied. The Lich King told me how our encounter
would end.
That surprised Arthas. The Lich King knew that I would kill you? He frowned, glancing down
at the blade that stretched across his lap. It was silent now, dormant. No whispers came from it,
nor did the runes pulse with power.
Of course, Kel Thuzad responded, a hint of superiority in his sepulchral voice. He chose you
to be his champion long before the Scourge even began.
Arthas s unease deepened. No one had asked him, or even told him about his destiny. But would
he have embraced it, had he known? No, he decided. He did not like being manipulated, but he
knew that he had had to be tempered if he was to be a formidable weapon. He had to go step by
step to his fate, otherwise he would have rejected it. He would then still be with Jaina and Uther
and his father would
If he s so all knowing, then how can the dreadlords control him like they do?
They are agents of the one who created our master: the fiery lords of the Burning Legion.
The words sent a shiver through Arthas. Burning Legion. Two words only, but the power they
promised was heady, somehow. In his lap, Frostmourne flickered.
It is a vast demonic army that has consumed countless worlds beyond our own. Kel Thuzad s
voice was almost hypnotic, and Arthas shut his eyes for a moment. Behind the closed lids, scenes
played out in his mind as the lich spoke. He saw a red sky arcing over a red world. Over a ridge
poured a wave of creatures. They ran like hounds, but no natural beasts were they they had
fearsome jaws crammed with teeth, and strange tentacles sprouting from their shoulders. Stones
crashed to the earth, leaving trails of green fire, to come to life as animated rock that marched on
their foes.
Now, it comes to set this world to the flame. Our master was created to pave the way for its
arrival. The dreadlords were sent to make sure he succeeded.
The scene in Arthas s mind shifted. He was looking at an ornate carved gateway. He knew it to
be the Dark Portal, although he had never seen it with his own eyes. It radiated green fire, and a
host of demons were clustered around it. Arthas shook his head and the vision evaporated.
So the plague in Lordaeron, the citadels in Northrend, the slaughtering of the elves& it was all
just to prepare for some huge demonic invasion?
Yes. In time, you will find that our entire history has been shaped by the coming conflict.
Arthas pondered this. Frostmourne was definitely awakening, and he removed the gauntlet from
his right hand to caress it. Cold, bone cold it was, so cold that even his death knight s hand,
which had been tempered for such a task, ached as he touched it. He felt the whispers again, and
smiled.
There is more, lich, is there not? he asked, turning to regard Kel Thuzad. You have said that
the dreadlords imprison our master. Tell me now.
Not possessing flesh any longer, Kel Thuzad had no facial expressions with which to betray his
emotions. But Arthas knew by the slight hunching of the undead s form that he was
uncomfortable. Nonetheless, he spoke.
The first phase of the Lich King s plan was to engineer the Scourge, which would eradicate any
group that might resist the Legion s arrival.
Arthas nodded. Like the forces of Lordaeron& and the high elves. He felt a vague knot in the
pit of his stomach, but dismissed it.
Exactly. The second phase is to actually summon the demon lord who will spark the invasion.
The lich lifted a bony finger and pointed in the direction in which they traveled. There is a
nearby encampment of orcs who maintain a functional demon gate. I must use the gate to
commune with the demon lord and receive his instructions.
Arthas sat quietly atop Invincible for a moment. His mind went back to when he had fought orcs
alongside Uther the Lightbringer at Strahnbrad. He recalled the orcs had performed human
sacrifices to their demon lords. He and Uther had both been disgusted and appalled. Arthas
himself had been so infuriated that Uther had had to lecture him on not fighting with rage in his
heart. If we allow our passions to turn to bloodlust, then we will become as vile as the orcs,
Uther had chided.
Well, Uther was dead, and while Arthas was still killing orcs, he was now working with demons.
A muscle twitched near his eye.
What are we waiting for? he snapped, and urged Invincible into a gallop.
The orcs fought bravely, but in the end, it was futile, as all attempts to halt the Scourge would be
futile. Arthas galloped forward, Invincible leaping nimbly over fallen orc bodies. He regarded
the gate for a long moment. Three stone slabs, strangely elegant for so brutal a race. Erected
nearby, though, were huge animal bones that glowed a dull red hue. In the confines outlined by
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