Serenais always felt cold in Icecrown Citadel, just like everybody else. On that day, however, it felt colder. She, and several others that remained on the floor, stood around a carved, glowing ornament on the ground. They encountered several others before, and knew that they served as devices of instant transportation. All the other ornaments were active upon the first visit to them.
Not this one.
When they first saw it, it was dim and inactive. That was seven weeks and three days ago. It was a fact that they didn’t spend much time examining this particular ornament. But the more time they spent charting and conquering the floor, they realized that this ornament was in the perfect centre of it, more so even in perfect centre of the whole Citadel. There were val’kyrs, Lich King’s airborne combatants, seen circling it for countless amounts of time, sometimes defending it viciously, at other times completely ignoring anyone who walked past. Strange stories were told about the ornament itself, but Serenais gave credit to the fact that the whole Citadel was probably the most grotesque place any of them ever set foot in. They didn’t find any information about this particular ornament in the laboratory of Professor Putricide, who was the mastermind behind every of the Scourge’s workings; neither did they find it mentioned in countless books in the Crimson Halls. The ornament itself only lit up when Sindragosa, the last of the Scourge’s lieutenants, fell.
Almost as if an invitation to those who passed a terrible test.
Serenais knelt and picked a handful of snow from the floor. That was another of the countless anomalies of the area immediately surrounding the ornament. She squeezed it in her hand; it didn’t melt. What left her grasp fell to the ground like dust instead and what remained there felt like cold, very fine sand. She clenched her fist, touched her forehead with it, and whispered a prayer.
“Are you scared?” a male voice asked from behind her left shoulder.
Serenais finished the prayer, opened her palm and blew into the snow, letting it fly away. Only then she looked at the one who spoke to her. Tirion Fordring.
“I can’t deny that...”
He put a hand on her shoulder.
“Nobody here could.”
Serenais would look around, but she didn’t. She knew very well what effect the place had on her friends and comrades. Janah, a draenei shaman, who was normally talkative, was strangely silent. Cidcus, a paladin, seemed focused on something distant at all the time. Mareth, priestess, normally eager, was always walking in midst of the group, very rarely stepping outside. Many others shared similar signs of the horrors of the place taking their toll.
Serenais saw it on herself. When she first answered Fordring’s call on all able of Azeroth to come to Northrend to end the threat of the Scourge – on her guild’s behalf – she was considered happy, smiling. It wasn’t tough to find a happy thought. In the Citadel... All of the happy thoughts seemed to lose their meaning. Everything seemed gloomy, and sign of hope seemingly avoiding everything spoken of.
Most of all, she wanted to be away from the Citadel, as soon as possible. She stayed only because her friends counted on her, and because it was her duty to be there in place of those who can’t fight on their own behalf.
Serenais stood up, but before she could say anything, Fordring took a deep breath, clenched his fists, closed his eyes – and stepped on the ornament.
He vanished, as was expected. There was only one way to find out where the ornament led to.
Serenais stepped onto the ornament as well. Freeze grasped her, as it was with all other ornaments she used before. Then, she was suddenly standing on a large platform, Fordring standing still several feet in front of her, looking silently at something further ahead. She made a step away from the ornament she appeared on. Only then she realised that, unlike any other place they first visited in the Citadel, this one seemed empty, dreadfully quiet. Then she looked at what kept Fordring’s attention.
There was a man in dark armour, sitting on a throne made of ice. The former crown prince of Lordaeron, once known as Arthas Menethil. He seemed to radiate cold, but not just that. Light itself seemed to bend around him, as if trying to avoid getting into contact with him. The ground below him was beset with snow and ice crystals. But the most prominent was the sword that he held in his right hand. The Frostmourne.
There was no doubt. She stood on the Frozen Throne, the seat of power of the Scourge, and she was looking at the Lich King himself. She couldn’t find a word to speak, and even if she could, she wouldn’t be able to say it. The ones that appeared on the ornament after her remained similarly silent. Only after the Lich King rose from his throne, they all began to resist the shock of finally facing him. As he started walking towards them, Serenais felt yet another sensation – or lack of it – that made him more of a monstrosity. Every being she encountered so far, even Sindragosa herself, had at least a faint spark of Light in them.
But the Lich King seemed to be an empty void. As he walked down from his throne, he clapped. Strangely, he left Frostmourne back at his seat.
“So...the Light's vaunted justice has finally arrived. Shall I lay down Frostmourne and throw myself at your mercy, Fordring?”
His voice had a dreadful echo, and the tone itself was downright mocking. Serenais couldn’t see Lich King’s face clearly, but it appeared to her that, under his helmet, he was smiling in a grotesque way.
Fordring took a deep breath, and then replied the Lich King. “We will grant you a swift death, Arthas. More than can be said for the thousands you've tortured and slain.”
The Lich King stopped at the outermost edge of the platform Serenais and her group were standing on. He let out a strange sound, which Serenais thought was laughter.
“You will learn of that first hand. When my work is complete, you will beg for mercy...” His tone suddenly changed. It wasn’t the amused one as before; instead, it was sheer anger. “...and I will deny you. Your anguished cries will be testament to my unbridled power.”
Seeing an opportunity, Fordring raised his sword, the Ashbringer, and shouted: “So be it!”
But instead of attacking the Lich King, he only made it to see the Frostmourne jump into his adversary’s hand, and from there, send a bright blue bolt towards him. In an instant, Tirion Fordring, along with the only weapon that could stand against the Frostmourne, was encased in a massive block of ice.
Serenais instantly gestured the other to spread into small groups; it was clear there was no way out.
Lich King took a few steps towards the ice containing Fordring and mocking knocked on it. “I'll keep you alive to witness the end, Fordring. I would not want the Light's greatest champion to miss seeing this wretched world remade in my image.”
Then, much to her surprise, he turned to Serenais, raised the Frostmourne, and charged towards her. Serenais managed to raise her shield to block the incoming attack. She didn’t think it would withstand the strike – but it did. When the Lich King saw that she carried was replicated to exactly resemble the royal seal of Lordaeron, he grabbed the shield and tossed her along with it towards the edge of the platform.
“You dare bring that here?”
She had his attention, at least for now. Before she got up again, she swiftly gestured at the others, to try and free Fordring. Some did, but Cidcus and Enlil, a draenei warrior and shield maiden, remained by her side. The Lich King charged at them again, this time without a word. Apparently blind with rage, he stroke at Serenais’ shield. This threw her away, but the force of the smash managed to throw all three of them almost to the edge, over which they could see nothing but a league of emptiness. This time, Lich King didn’t strike at them again. Instead, he raised the Frostmourne, and impaled the ground with it.
The edges of the platform began to shake. Crackles started to form.
“Everyone, away from the edge!” Serenais managed to shout. She ran as well, and she was the last to do so. Behind her, she heard a surprised and shocked scream. The ledge beneath Enlil gave way, and she begun to fall. Serenais quickly turned around and extended her hand.
Just in time to grab Enlil by her shoulderpad. For an infinitely short moment, they watched Enlil’s shield fall to the void below. Then Serenais pulled up. She did get Enlil up just in time to realise that just behind her, the Lich King was standing.
“Not today, you miserable maggots!”
He readied Frostmourne to strike, but then another voice pierced the cold silence.
“This is for Stratholme, traitor!”
Then Cidcus stroke with his sword against Lich King’s shoulder. It wasn’t nearly enough to pierce through his armor, but it was enough to distort the aim of the blow. Frostmourne harmlessly hit the ice to the left of Serenais. The Lich King turned around, looked at Cidcus, who was just starting a second attack – and then caught the edge of Cidcus’s sword in his gauntlet.
“Stratholme?”
He clenched his fist, slowly shattering the blade.
“I seem to recall the name. Tell me, is it still burning?”
Cidcus withdrew the remnants of his sword, now short, but also ending with a very sharp point, and thrust it against Lich King’s breastplate with a roar. Lich King didn’t wait for the strike to fully hit and struck Cidcus with his other hand, sending the paladin flying towards the throne. Then, he noticed that the tip of Cidcus’ blade was lodged within his armour. He pulled it out, leaving a small dent, and threw it away.
Then he looked at the others of the group, slowly destroying the ice block.
“Don’t interrupt my guest.”
He then pointed his hand towards the ground beneath Fordring. A streak of what seemed like a black sludge erupted from his fingertips, flying swiftly towards where his hand was directed, creating a black, swirling pool. Everyone instinctively leapt out, but Janah, who was the one nearest the centre of the pool, didn’t leap far enough. She turned pale, lost her balance, and fell to the ground. Mareth extended her hands, and with a whispered word, using a spell to pull Janah towards her.
“Janah!” Serenais shouted. Lich King reacted with laughter.
“You made a mistake, draenei.” He readied Frostmourne again, and then turned to Serenais. “Never befriend those you fight along with.”
He stroke again. Serenais managed to block again, but the shield, weakened by previous attacks, gave way. The Frostmourne’s tip pierced through it and then through Serenais’ armour, a fraction of an inch into her arm. The wound itself was superficial, but Frostmourne’s presence made it feel extremely painful. Serenais withdrew her arm with a short shriek. Lich King took a step away to deliver a final blow.
“Only mortal...”
Then he stroke again. This time, however, Serenais was ready. She dodged the blow, and, using a brief moment in which her enemy left his breastplate uncovered, thrust her sword with all the strength in her uninjured arm into the dent. The armour gave way, and the sword pierced through the Lich King halfway its length, until it was stopped by metal on the backside.
Lich King, however, only stepped once back and looked at the sword, firmly lodged in his chest. The he looked back at Serenais, in surprise.
“You gnat actually managed to hurt me...!”
Then he raised Frostmourne for the final time. The sword flashed brightly, and from it, a wave of glow rushed around the platform. It didn’t throw anyone off. When it hit her, Serenais didn’t feel pushed or thrown in any direction. Instead, her body grew numb. Her limbs became weak, breath shallow. And it went on.
Serenais realised that the Lich King only toyed with them up to that point. She collapsed to the ground with just an inch of life in her, vaguely noticing the same also happened to everyone else. She tried to move, but her body would respond. The spark of life in her was slowly diminishing, and her last thought was that she just gave her body and soul to the Lich King, to do with them as he wills, finishing it by an apology to everyone whom she failed.
But the Lich King didn’t raise her as his minion. Instead, she heard a voice of a spirit. She didn’t recognize it – it belonged to neither the Lich King, nor Fordring. Yet, it spoke of what she didn’t believe hearing. She didn’t understand it. But life within her sparked anew.
She rose to her hooves, and saw the Lich King being unarmed, floating above the centre of the platform within a whirl of lights – and more importantly, Frostmourne lay on the ground, broken, it’s tip shattered.
Serenais didn’t wait to be urged to strike again. Nobody did. She lunged for her sword, still within Lich King’s chest, pulled it out and tried to stab him again. Fordring was free as well. Serenais noticed that the ice in which he was encased just a moment ago, was shattered and the shards radiated Light, melting under its power. Lich King’s armor still proved nearly impervious to their attacks.
Not to Fordring’s, however. He raised the Ashbringer, and drove it down to Lich King’s right shoulder, cutting through his flesh halfway through his chest and stomach. When Fordring pulled the sword away, Lich King’s armour was split in half, though his flash was seared back in one by the power of the sword. The whirl of lights subsided, and the Lich King fell to the ground.
“Is it... really over?” Cidcus asked.
Serenais looked at the largest piece of Frostmourne, still glowing.
“No.”
She knelt next to the sword and reached for it.
“Serenais, don’t...!” Janah shouted at her, to no avail. Serenais picked the sword’s remaining hilt and broken edge. In that moment, she felt immense freeze grasping her. Not in physical, but in spiritual way. Then she heard a voice.
Serenais...
She chose to ignore the voice and raised the broken blade above her head, turning around towards the edge of the platform, leaving everyone behind her.
I have been waiting for you...
She drove the blade down.
We belong together.
The fragment’s tip impacted the ground. The remnant of the Frostmourne shattered in a bright flash, its shards flying in all directions. The force released from the sword impacted Serenais, along with countless sharp pieces of the blade’s metal piercing through her armour and into her. Serenais made a few steps back, before strength left her. She collapsed on the floor. Janah ran to her, and then turned her onto her back as she knelt next to her. Serenais was unconscious, with numerous deep cuts, bleeding badly.
“Can you...?” Cidcus didn’t get to finish the question.
“I hope.” Janah grabbed Serenais, closed her eyes, and with a few words, disappeared in a green flash.
Not this one.
When they first saw it, it was dim and inactive. That was seven weeks and three days ago. It was a fact that they didn’t spend much time examining this particular ornament. But the more time they spent charting and conquering the floor, they realized that this ornament was in the perfect centre of it, more so even in perfect centre of the whole Citadel. There were val’kyrs, Lich King’s airborne combatants, seen circling it for countless amounts of time, sometimes defending it viciously, at other times completely ignoring anyone who walked past. Strange stories were told about the ornament itself, but Serenais gave credit to the fact that the whole Citadel was probably the most grotesque place any of them ever set foot in. They didn’t find any information about this particular ornament in the laboratory of Professor Putricide, who was the mastermind behind every of the Scourge’s workings; neither did they find it mentioned in countless books in the Crimson Halls. The ornament itself only lit up when Sindragosa, the last of the Scourge’s lieutenants, fell.
Almost as if an invitation to those who passed a terrible test.
Serenais knelt and picked a handful of snow from the floor. That was another of the countless anomalies of the area immediately surrounding the ornament. She squeezed it in her hand; it didn’t melt. What left her grasp fell to the ground like dust instead and what remained there felt like cold, very fine sand. She clenched her fist, touched her forehead with it, and whispered a prayer.
“Are you scared?” a male voice asked from behind her left shoulder.
Serenais finished the prayer, opened her palm and blew into the snow, letting it fly away. Only then she looked at the one who spoke to her. Tirion Fordring.
“I can’t deny that...”
He put a hand on her shoulder.
“Nobody here could.”
Serenais would look around, but she didn’t. She knew very well what effect the place had on her friends and comrades. Janah, a draenei shaman, who was normally talkative, was strangely silent. Cidcus, a paladin, seemed focused on something distant at all the time. Mareth, priestess, normally eager, was always walking in midst of the group, very rarely stepping outside. Many others shared similar signs of the horrors of the place taking their toll.
Serenais saw it on herself. When she first answered Fordring’s call on all able of Azeroth to come to Northrend to end the threat of the Scourge – on her guild’s behalf – she was considered happy, smiling. It wasn’t tough to find a happy thought. In the Citadel... All of the happy thoughts seemed to lose their meaning. Everything seemed gloomy, and sign of hope seemingly avoiding everything spoken of.
Most of all, she wanted to be away from the Citadel, as soon as possible. She stayed only because her friends counted on her, and because it was her duty to be there in place of those who can’t fight on their own behalf.
Serenais stood up, but before she could say anything, Fordring took a deep breath, clenched his fists, closed his eyes – and stepped on the ornament.
He vanished, as was expected. There was only one way to find out where the ornament led to.
Serenais stepped onto the ornament as well. Freeze grasped her, as it was with all other ornaments she used before. Then, she was suddenly standing on a large platform, Fordring standing still several feet in front of her, looking silently at something further ahead. She made a step away from the ornament she appeared on. Only then she realised that, unlike any other place they first visited in the Citadel, this one seemed empty, dreadfully quiet. Then she looked at what kept Fordring’s attention.
There was a man in dark armour, sitting on a throne made of ice. The former crown prince of Lordaeron, once known as Arthas Menethil. He seemed to radiate cold, but not just that. Light itself seemed to bend around him, as if trying to avoid getting into contact with him. The ground below him was beset with snow and ice crystals. But the most prominent was the sword that he held in his right hand. The Frostmourne.
There was no doubt. She stood on the Frozen Throne, the seat of power of the Scourge, and she was looking at the Lich King himself. She couldn’t find a word to speak, and even if she could, she wouldn’t be able to say it. The ones that appeared on the ornament after her remained similarly silent. Only after the Lich King rose from his throne, they all began to resist the shock of finally facing him. As he started walking towards them, Serenais felt yet another sensation – or lack of it – that made him more of a monstrosity. Every being she encountered so far, even Sindragosa herself, had at least a faint spark of Light in them.
But the Lich King seemed to be an empty void. As he walked down from his throne, he clapped. Strangely, he left Frostmourne back at his seat.
“So...the Light's vaunted justice has finally arrived. Shall I lay down Frostmourne and throw myself at your mercy, Fordring?”
His voice had a dreadful echo, and the tone itself was downright mocking. Serenais couldn’t see Lich King’s face clearly, but it appeared to her that, under his helmet, he was smiling in a grotesque way.
Fordring took a deep breath, and then replied the Lich King. “We will grant you a swift death, Arthas. More than can be said for the thousands you've tortured and slain.”
The Lich King stopped at the outermost edge of the platform Serenais and her group were standing on. He let out a strange sound, which Serenais thought was laughter.
“You will learn of that first hand. When my work is complete, you will beg for mercy...” His tone suddenly changed. It wasn’t the amused one as before; instead, it was sheer anger. “...and I will deny you. Your anguished cries will be testament to my unbridled power.”
Seeing an opportunity, Fordring raised his sword, the Ashbringer, and shouted: “So be it!”
But instead of attacking the Lich King, he only made it to see the Frostmourne jump into his adversary’s hand, and from there, send a bright blue bolt towards him. In an instant, Tirion Fordring, along with the only weapon that could stand against the Frostmourne, was encased in a massive block of ice.
Serenais instantly gestured the other to spread into small groups; it was clear there was no way out.
Lich King took a few steps towards the ice containing Fordring and mocking knocked on it. “I'll keep you alive to witness the end, Fordring. I would not want the Light's greatest champion to miss seeing this wretched world remade in my image.”
Then, much to her surprise, he turned to Serenais, raised the Frostmourne, and charged towards her. Serenais managed to raise her shield to block the incoming attack. She didn’t think it would withstand the strike – but it did. When the Lich King saw that she carried was replicated to exactly resemble the royal seal of Lordaeron, he grabbed the shield and tossed her along with it towards the edge of the platform.
“You dare bring that here?”
She had his attention, at least for now. Before she got up again, she swiftly gestured at the others, to try and free Fordring. Some did, but Cidcus and Enlil, a draenei warrior and shield maiden, remained by her side. The Lich King charged at them again, this time without a word. Apparently blind with rage, he stroke at Serenais’ shield. This threw her away, but the force of the smash managed to throw all three of them almost to the edge, over which they could see nothing but a league of emptiness. This time, Lich King didn’t strike at them again. Instead, he raised the Frostmourne, and impaled the ground with it.
The edges of the platform began to shake. Crackles started to form.
“Everyone, away from the edge!” Serenais managed to shout. She ran as well, and she was the last to do so. Behind her, she heard a surprised and shocked scream. The ledge beneath Enlil gave way, and she begun to fall. Serenais quickly turned around and extended her hand.
Just in time to grab Enlil by her shoulderpad. For an infinitely short moment, they watched Enlil’s shield fall to the void below. Then Serenais pulled up. She did get Enlil up just in time to realise that just behind her, the Lich King was standing.
“Not today, you miserable maggots!”
He readied Frostmourne to strike, but then another voice pierced the cold silence.
“This is for Stratholme, traitor!”
Then Cidcus stroke with his sword against Lich King’s shoulder. It wasn’t nearly enough to pierce through his armor, but it was enough to distort the aim of the blow. Frostmourne harmlessly hit the ice to the left of Serenais. The Lich King turned around, looked at Cidcus, who was just starting a second attack – and then caught the edge of Cidcus’s sword in his gauntlet.
“Stratholme?”
He clenched his fist, slowly shattering the blade.
“I seem to recall the name. Tell me, is it still burning?”
Cidcus withdrew the remnants of his sword, now short, but also ending with a very sharp point, and thrust it against Lich King’s breastplate with a roar. Lich King didn’t wait for the strike to fully hit and struck Cidcus with his other hand, sending the paladin flying towards the throne. Then, he noticed that the tip of Cidcus’ blade was lodged within his armour. He pulled it out, leaving a small dent, and threw it away.
Then he looked at the others of the group, slowly destroying the ice block.
“Don’t interrupt my guest.”
He then pointed his hand towards the ground beneath Fordring. A streak of what seemed like a black sludge erupted from his fingertips, flying swiftly towards where his hand was directed, creating a black, swirling pool. Everyone instinctively leapt out, but Janah, who was the one nearest the centre of the pool, didn’t leap far enough. She turned pale, lost her balance, and fell to the ground. Mareth extended her hands, and with a whispered word, using a spell to pull Janah towards her.
“Janah!” Serenais shouted. Lich King reacted with laughter.
“You made a mistake, draenei.” He readied Frostmourne again, and then turned to Serenais. “Never befriend those you fight along with.”
He stroke again. Serenais managed to block again, but the shield, weakened by previous attacks, gave way. The Frostmourne’s tip pierced through it and then through Serenais’ armour, a fraction of an inch into her arm. The wound itself was superficial, but Frostmourne’s presence made it feel extremely painful. Serenais withdrew her arm with a short shriek. Lich King took a step away to deliver a final blow.
“Only mortal...”
Then he stroke again. This time, however, Serenais was ready. She dodged the blow, and, using a brief moment in which her enemy left his breastplate uncovered, thrust her sword with all the strength in her uninjured arm into the dent. The armour gave way, and the sword pierced through the Lich King halfway its length, until it was stopped by metal on the backside.
Lich King, however, only stepped once back and looked at the sword, firmly lodged in his chest. The he looked back at Serenais, in surprise.
“You gnat actually managed to hurt me...!”
Then he raised Frostmourne for the final time. The sword flashed brightly, and from it, a wave of glow rushed around the platform. It didn’t throw anyone off. When it hit her, Serenais didn’t feel pushed or thrown in any direction. Instead, her body grew numb. Her limbs became weak, breath shallow. And it went on.
Serenais realised that the Lich King only toyed with them up to that point. She collapsed to the ground with just an inch of life in her, vaguely noticing the same also happened to everyone else. She tried to move, but her body would respond. The spark of life in her was slowly diminishing, and her last thought was that she just gave her body and soul to the Lich King, to do with them as he wills, finishing it by an apology to everyone whom she failed.
But the Lich King didn’t raise her as his minion. Instead, she heard a voice of a spirit. She didn’t recognize it – it belonged to neither the Lich King, nor Fordring. Yet, it spoke of what she didn’t believe hearing. She didn’t understand it. But life within her sparked anew.
She rose to her hooves, and saw the Lich King being unarmed, floating above the centre of the platform within a whirl of lights – and more importantly, Frostmourne lay on the ground, broken, it’s tip shattered.
Serenais didn’t wait to be urged to strike again. Nobody did. She lunged for her sword, still within Lich King’s chest, pulled it out and tried to stab him again. Fordring was free as well. Serenais noticed that the ice in which he was encased just a moment ago, was shattered and the shards radiated Light, melting under its power. Lich King’s armor still proved nearly impervious to their attacks.
Not to Fordring’s, however. He raised the Ashbringer, and drove it down to Lich King’s right shoulder, cutting through his flesh halfway through his chest and stomach. When Fordring pulled the sword away, Lich King’s armour was split in half, though his flash was seared back in one by the power of the sword. The whirl of lights subsided, and the Lich King fell to the ground.
“Is it... really over?” Cidcus asked.
Serenais looked at the largest piece of Frostmourne, still glowing.
“No.”
She knelt next to the sword and reached for it.
“Serenais, don’t...!” Janah shouted at her, to no avail. Serenais picked the sword’s remaining hilt and broken edge. In that moment, she felt immense freeze grasping her. Not in physical, but in spiritual way. Then she heard a voice.
Serenais...
She chose to ignore the voice and raised the broken blade above her head, turning around towards the edge of the platform, leaving everyone behind her.
I have been waiting for you...
She drove the blade down.
We belong together.
The fragment’s tip impacted the ground. The remnant of the Frostmourne shattered in a bright flash, its shards flying in all directions. The force released from the sword impacted Serenais, along with countless sharp pieces of the blade’s metal piercing through her armour and into her. Serenais made a few steps back, before strength left her. She collapsed on the floor. Janah ran to her, and then turned her onto her back as she knelt next to her. Serenais was unconscious, with numerous deep cuts, bleeding badly.
“Can you...?” Cidcus didn’t get to finish the question.
“I hope.” Janah grabbed Serenais, closed her eyes, and with a few words, disappeared in a green flash.