Chapter 31
Kordelius
Things die. Let them.
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Silently he observed as the living pushed back against the tide of the undead. His cloak billowed in the wind, a silhouette against the chaos unfolding before him. Step by step, the defenders gained ground, their determination a stark contrast to the relentless advance of the undead hordes. Despite the casualties mounting among their ranks, their resolve remained unyielding.
From his vantage point, he witnessed the flurry of magic unleashed upon the battlefield. Flames erupted, ice shards pierced through the air, arcane energies crackled, and radiant light pierced the darkness. The explosions and clashes of power rent the air, each spell a testament to the desperation of the living to repel the encroaching darkness. Yet, for every spell cast, there was a sinister counter, as necrotic energies surged forth, accompanied by flames and frost from the undead.
But amidst the chaos, he remained a silent observer, his features hidden beaneath his armor from those who fought below.
"Will you not join them, in this pivotal moment?" A voice, melodious and accompanied by the soft tinkling of crystals, whispered in his ear, reminiscent of the delicate chiming of crystalline bells. "Have they not proved their mettle to you?" The question lingered in the air, its gentle tone masking a subtle challenge veiled in genuine concern, as the voice penetrated through the silence that enveloped him.
He listened, his gaze fixed upon the battlefield below, where the clash between life and death raged on.
Finally, he moved, a subtle shift in the stillness, raising his arm as if in deliberation. His gaze lingered momentarily on his hand, fingers tracing an unseen pattern, before lifting both arm and head to the heavens above.
For a suspended moment, nothing changed, save for the faint stirring of anticipation in the air. Then, as if in response to his silent invocation, the clouds parted, revealing the radiant glow concealed behind. Light, pure and resplendent, burst forth, cascading in brilliant beams towards the earth below.
The first to catch sight of this celestial intervention were the battling dragons, their aerial skirmish momentarily forgotten as they beheld the luminous spectacle unfolding before them.
As the radiant beams struck the undead horrors of the scourge, a miraculous transformation ensued. Where once there had been abominations of decay and death, now there was naught but vapor, consumed utterly by the cleansing fire of the divine light. Those among the living caught in its embrace felt a surge of vitality coursing through their veins, wounds closing and strength returning as if touched by the hand of providence itself.
As the beams of light finally made contact with the earth, the undead horde faltered and fell in droves, unable to withstand the overwhelming power of the divine radiance. Across the battlefield, the living halted in disbelief, their shock palpable as they beheld the miraculous scene unfolding before them. The seemingly unstoppable tide of the undead was swiftly swept away, vanquished by the sheer force of the Light.
But the miracle did not end there. Amidst the chaos and devastation, fallen comrades began to stir, rising once more not as soulless minions of death, but as living, breathing beings restored to life. Their eyes widened in wonder as they beheld their healed bodies, wounds that had once sealed their fates now miraculously restored.
In unison, their gaze turned towards the peak, where they knew he stood, his unseen presence now a beacon of hope and inspiration. Hearts swelled with gratitude and admiration, their spirits uplifted by the knowledge that they were not alone in their struggle against the encroaching darkness.
With renewed vigor and determination, they pressed forward, emboldened by the light of their mysterious ally and the newfound hope that surged within their ranks. The battle was far from over, but in that moment, they knew that victory was within their grasp.
On the mountain peak, he sank to one knee, the weight of his actions bearing down upon him like a heavy burden. Exhaustion seeped into his bones, his body trembling with the strain of what he had unleashed upon the battlefield.
A wave of concern washed over him, not his own, but emanating from the ever-present companion who had journeyed by his side since the beginning. Despite the weariness that threatened to overwhelm him, he reassured the unseen presence with a voice steadied by determination. "I am fine. I still have the strength to stand."
With a determined resolve, he pushed himself upright, his gaze fixed on the task that lay ahead. "It is time to end this," he declared, his voice resolute as he took a decisive step forward. As he crashed into the ground below, a whirlwind of dust and debris enveloped him, obscuring him from view.
When the dust settled, he emerged astride his trusty steed, a majestic creature whose presence radiated strength and grace. With a firm grip on the reins, he urged the steed forward, its powerful hooves striking the ground with purpose as they set off towards the heart of the conflict.
Amidst the chaos and carnage, he rode forth, his determination unwavering as he prepared to confront the source of the darkness that threatened to engulf them all. With each stride of his mount, he drew closer to his destiny, ready to face whatever lay ahead in the name of victory.
~~~~
As Uther ascended the steps leading to the imposing doors of the Icecrown Citadel, each footfall carried the weight of destiny. His grip tightened on his mace, a symbol of righteous fury and determination, as he pressed forward, undeterred by the chaos of battle raging around him.
With practiced ease, he dispatched any undead foolish enough to stand in his path, his movements swift and decisive. The Lich King, in his arrogance, had chosen to unleash a relentless horde of minions upon them, banking on sheer numbers to overwhelm the defenders. And though they fought valiantly, the relentless onslaught threatened to tip the scales against them.
Yet, even in the face of such adversity, a glimmer of hope ignited within Uther's heart as he reflected on the intervention of the Light's Chosen. The display of power unleashed by their mysterious ally had been nothing short of awe-inspiring, a testament to the might of the divine forces at their disposal.
Witnessing the Light's Chosen command the very essence of purity and righteousness to smite their enemies filled Uther with a sense of wonder and reverence. Never before had he beheld such mastery over the forces of light, nor had he imagined wielding such power himself.
As they neared the entrance to the Icecrown Citadel, Uther's resolve hardened, fueled by the newfound hope inspired by the Light's Chosen. With each step, he drew closer to the ultimate confrontation with the Lich King, ready to face whatever darkness awaited within, bolstered by the radiant presence of their enigmatic ally.
His focus fixed on the looming entrance, a presence at his side drew his attention. Sylvanas Windrunner stood beside him, her gaze ablaze with anticipation and a simmering thirst for vengeance. He could feel the intensity radiating from her, a palpable eagerness to confront the one who had wrought devastation upon her life and homeland.
Her fingers tightened around her bow, a silent promise of retribution echoing in the air. "Soon you will face Light's Vengeance, Arthas," she growled, her words more a declaration to herself than to him. Yet, Uther heard her, understanding the depth of her desire for justice. Though their motivations differed, he could not fault her for seeking solace in the destruction of the one who had caused so much suffering.
"Yes, soon this nightmare will be over," Uther affirmed, his tone resolute as they finally reached the towering doors barring their path.
With a firm grip on his mace, Uther drew upon the boundless power of the Light, allowing it to suffuse every fiber of his being until he radiated with its brilliance. With a primal roar, he surged forward, his weapon raised high as he unleashed a devastating strike upon the barrier before them.
For a fleeting moment, a shield shimmered into existence, a feeble attempt to repel the onslaught of Light-infused fury. But it was no match for the sheer force of Uther's righteous wrath. With a thunderous crash, his mace connected with the door, shattering it into splinters and blasting the entrance wide open in a shower of debris.
As the dust settled and the echoes of his assault faded, Uther stood at the threshold of the Icecrown Citadel, his resolve unyielding as he prepared to confront the source of their torment once and for all. Beside him, Sylvanas stood ready, her gaze fixed upon the darkness that awaited within, her thirst for vengeance unquenchable.
~~~~
As Uther and Sylvanas stepped into the frigid and lifeless halls of Icecrown Citadel, a gravelly voice echoed from deeper within, its ominous tone a harbinger of the trials yet to come. "This is the beginning and the end, mortals. None may enter the master's sanctum!"
But the defiant words only served to steel their resolve, fueling their determination to defy the darkness that lurked within. Without hesitation, Sylvanas and her rangers unleashed a barrage of arrows, each shaft finding its mark amidst the rushing tide of undead that sought to bar their advance. Meanwhile, Uther and his companions surged forward, their weapons gleaming in the dim light as they carved a path through the ranks of their foes.
With each step, they pressed deeper into the heart of the citadel, undeterred by the horrors that lurked in the shadows. Their resolve was unyielding, their determination unwavering as they fought tooth and nail to prove their adversary wrong.
At last, as they reached the inner sanctum, a temporary respite was won. Mages, led by the formidable Jaina Proudmoore, swiftly erected a barrier at the far end of the hallway, sealing the encroaching undead at bay. Behind the safety of the magical shield, the weary defenders regrouped, their breaths coming in ragged gasps as they prepared for the final confrontation that lay ahead.
As Uther, Sylvanas, Liadrin, Jaina Proudmoore, Bolvar Fordragon, and Varok Saurfang gathered together, the weight of their mission hung heavy in the air. Each of them, seasoned warriors and leaders in their own right, understood the gravity of the task before them.
"We need to split our forces," Uther declared, his voice grave yet resolute. "The majority will need to remain here to hold this position against any further onslaughts. But a powerful strike team must press ahead. No doubt the strongest of the Lich King's servants lie further within, and it will take great strength and courage to combat them."
His words were met with solemn nods from his companions, each one bracing themselves for the challenges that lay ahead.
"Most of Light's Vengeance will remain here," Sylvanas asserted, her tone unwavering as she addressed the group. "But myself and my best rangers will accompany those pressing ahead. We will provide support and ensure that no foe escapes our sight." None were surprised by her decision, her hatred of their foe was known to all.
As Uther's gaze shifted from Sylvanas to Bolvar and Varok, he spoke with a somber tone, addressing the need for unity even amidst the chaos of battle. "While there has been some cohesion between the forces of the Alliance and the Horde, I believe it would be for the best if you both remained here to keep order."
Bolvar and Varok exchanged a meaningful glance, silently acknowledging the wisdom in Uther's words. With a shared nod, they accepted their roles without protest, understanding the importance of maintaining stability amidst the turmoil of war.
Before further discussion could ensue, Darion and Velanara approached, their resolve evident in their determined expressions.
"I will join the assault further inside," Darion declared, his voice carrying the weight of authority born from his mastery of the legendary Ashbringer. His decision was met with silent approval from the gathered leaders, their confidence in his abilities unwavering.
Meanwhile, Liadrin turned her attention towards Velanara, assigning her a crucial task. "You will need to remain to lead the Sentinels of Light," Liadrin instructed, her voice firm yet compassionate. Velanara nodded in understanding, accepting the responsibility entrusted to her with a determined resolve.
With the division of roles settled, all eyes turned towards Jaina, who had remained silent until now. Uther hesitated for a moment, unsure of what her response would be. But before he could speak, Jaina's voice cut through the silence with unwavering determination.
"I will go," she declared, her gaze meeting Uther's with a steely resolve. "This madness needs to end. Arthas died long ago, and it is time I put him to rest."
Her words echoed with a sense of finality, a shared determination to confront the darkness that had plagued them for far too long. With their roles defined and their resolve strengthened, the companions prepared to face the looming battle ahead, united in their quest to bring an end to the tyranny of the Lich King once and for all.
So the story will conclude with chapter 35, since I posted chapter 34 on my patreon today. Chapter 35 will serve as an epilogue for the most part.
From his vantage point, he witnessed the flurry of magic unleashed upon the battlefield. Flames erupted, ice shards pierced through the air, arcane energies crackled, and radiant light pierced the darkness. The explosions and clashes of power rent the air, each spell a testament to the desperation of the living to repel the encroaching darkness. Yet, for every spell cast, there was a sinister counter, as necrotic energies surged forth, accompanied by flames and frost from the undead.
But amidst the chaos, he remained a silent observer, his features hidden beaneath his armor from those who fought below.
"Will you not join them, in this pivotal moment?" A voice, melodious and accompanied by the soft tinkling of crystals, whispered in his ear, reminiscent of the delicate chiming of crystalline bells. "Have they not proved their mettle to you?" The question lingered in the air, its gentle tone masking a subtle challenge veiled in genuine concern, as the voice penetrated through the silence that enveloped him.
He listened, his gaze fixed upon the battlefield below, where the clash between life and death raged on.
Finally, he moved, a subtle shift in the stillness, raising his arm as if in deliberation. His gaze lingered momentarily on his hand, fingers tracing an unseen pattern, before lifting both arm and head to the heavens above.
For a suspended moment, nothing changed, save for the faint stirring of anticipation in the air. Then, as if in response to his silent invocation, the clouds parted, revealing the radiant glow concealed behind. Light, pure and resplendent, burst forth, cascading in brilliant beams towards the earth below.
The first to catch sight of this celestial intervention were the battling dragons, their aerial skirmish momentarily forgotten as they beheld the luminous spectacle unfolding before them.
As the radiant beams struck the undead horrors of the scourge, a miraculous transformation ensued. Where once there had been abominations of decay and death, now there was naught but vapor, consumed utterly by the cleansing fire of the divine light. Those among the living caught in its embrace felt a surge of vitality coursing through their veins, wounds closing and strength returning as if touched by the hand of providence itself.
As the beams of light finally made contact with the earth, the undead horde faltered and fell in droves, unable to withstand the overwhelming power of the divine radiance. Across the battlefield, the living halted in disbelief, their shock palpable as they beheld the miraculous scene unfolding before them. The seemingly unstoppable tide of the undead was swiftly swept away, vanquished by the sheer force of the Light.
But the miracle did not end there. Amidst the chaos and devastation, fallen comrades began to stir, rising once more not as soulless minions of death, but as living, breathing beings restored to life. Their eyes widened in wonder as they beheld their healed bodies, wounds that had once sealed their fates now miraculously restored.
In unison, their gaze turned towards the peak, where they knew he stood, his unseen presence now a beacon of hope and inspiration. Hearts swelled with gratitude and admiration, their spirits uplifted by the knowledge that they were not alone in their struggle against the encroaching darkness.
With renewed vigor and determination, they pressed forward, emboldened by the light of their mysterious ally and the newfound hope that surged within their ranks. The battle was far from over, but in that moment, they knew that victory was within their grasp.
On the mountain peak, he sank to one knee, the weight of his actions bearing down upon him like a heavy burden. Exhaustion seeped into his bones, his body trembling with the strain of what he had unleashed upon the battlefield.
A wave of concern washed over him, not his own, but emanating from the ever-present companion who had journeyed by his side since the beginning. Despite the weariness that threatened to overwhelm him, he reassured the unseen presence with a voice steadied by determination. "I am fine. I still have the strength to stand."
With a determined resolve, he pushed himself upright, his gaze fixed on the task that lay ahead. "It is time to end this," he declared, his voice resolute as he took a decisive step forward. As he crashed into the ground below, a whirlwind of dust and debris enveloped him, obscuring him from view.
When the dust settled, he emerged astride his trusty steed, a majestic creature whose presence radiated strength and grace. With a firm grip on the reins, he urged the steed forward, its powerful hooves striking the ground with purpose as they set off towards the heart of the conflict.
Amidst the chaos and carnage, he rode forth, his determination unwavering as he prepared to confront the source of the darkness that threatened to engulf them all. With each stride of his mount, he drew closer to his destiny, ready to face whatever lay ahead in the name of victory.
~~~~
As Uther ascended the steps leading to the imposing doors of the Icecrown Citadel, each footfall carried the weight of destiny. His grip tightened on his mace, a symbol of righteous fury and determination, as he pressed forward, undeterred by the chaos of battle raging around him.
With practiced ease, he dispatched any undead foolish enough to stand in his path, his movements swift and decisive. The Lich King, in his arrogance, had chosen to unleash a relentless horde of minions upon them, banking on sheer numbers to overwhelm the defenders. And though they fought valiantly, the relentless onslaught threatened to tip the scales against them.
Yet, even in the face of such adversity, a glimmer of hope ignited within Uther's heart as he reflected on the intervention of the Light's Chosen. The display of power unleashed by their mysterious ally had been nothing short of awe-inspiring, a testament to the might of the divine forces at their disposal.
Witnessing the Light's Chosen command the very essence of purity and righteousness to smite their enemies filled Uther with a sense of wonder and reverence. Never before had he beheld such mastery over the forces of light, nor had he imagined wielding such power himself.
As they neared the entrance to the Icecrown Citadel, Uther's resolve hardened, fueled by the newfound hope inspired by the Light's Chosen. With each step, he drew closer to the ultimate confrontation with the Lich King, ready to face whatever darkness awaited within, bolstered by the radiant presence of their enigmatic ally.
His focus fixed on the looming entrance, a presence at his side drew his attention. Sylvanas Windrunner stood beside him, her gaze ablaze with anticipation and a simmering thirst for vengeance. He could feel the intensity radiating from her, a palpable eagerness to confront the one who had wrought devastation upon her life and homeland.
Her fingers tightened around her bow, a silent promise of retribution echoing in the air. "Soon you will face Light's Vengeance, Arthas," she growled, her words more a declaration to herself than to him. Yet, Uther heard her, understanding the depth of her desire for justice. Though their motivations differed, he could not fault her for seeking solace in the destruction of the one who had caused so much suffering.
"Yes, soon this nightmare will be over," Uther affirmed, his tone resolute as they finally reached the towering doors barring their path.
With a firm grip on his mace, Uther drew upon the boundless power of the Light, allowing it to suffuse every fiber of his being until he radiated with its brilliance. With a primal roar, he surged forward, his weapon raised high as he unleashed a devastating strike upon the barrier before them.
For a fleeting moment, a shield shimmered into existence, a feeble attempt to repel the onslaught of Light-infused fury. But it was no match for the sheer force of Uther's righteous wrath. With a thunderous crash, his mace connected with the door, shattering it into splinters and blasting the entrance wide open in a shower of debris.
As the dust settled and the echoes of his assault faded, Uther stood at the threshold of the Icecrown Citadel, his resolve unyielding as he prepared to confront the source of their torment once and for all. Beside him, Sylvanas stood ready, her gaze fixed upon the darkness that awaited within, her thirst for vengeance unquenchable.
~~~~
As Uther and Sylvanas stepped into the frigid and lifeless halls of Icecrown Citadel, a gravelly voice echoed from deeper within, its ominous tone a harbinger of the trials yet to come. "This is the beginning and the end, mortals. None may enter the master's sanctum!"
But the defiant words only served to steel their resolve, fueling their determination to defy the darkness that lurked within. Without hesitation, Sylvanas and her rangers unleashed a barrage of arrows, each shaft finding its mark amidst the rushing tide of undead that sought to bar their advance. Meanwhile, Uther and his companions surged forward, their weapons gleaming in the dim light as they carved a path through the ranks of their foes.
With each step, they pressed deeper into the heart of the citadel, undeterred by the horrors that lurked in the shadows. Their resolve was unyielding, their determination unwavering as they fought tooth and nail to prove their adversary wrong.
At last, as they reached the inner sanctum, a temporary respite was won. Mages, led by the formidable Jaina Proudmoore, swiftly erected a barrier at the far end of the hallway, sealing the encroaching undead at bay. Behind the safety of the magical shield, the weary defenders regrouped, their breaths coming in ragged gasps as they prepared for the final confrontation that lay ahead.
As Uther, Sylvanas, Liadrin, Jaina Proudmoore, Bolvar Fordragon, and Varok Saurfang gathered together, the weight of their mission hung heavy in the air. Each of them, seasoned warriors and leaders in their own right, understood the gravity of the task before them.
"We need to split our forces," Uther declared, his voice grave yet resolute. "The majority will need to remain here to hold this position against any further onslaughts. But a powerful strike team must press ahead. No doubt the strongest of the Lich King's servants lie further within, and it will take great strength and courage to combat them."
His words were met with solemn nods from his companions, each one bracing themselves for the challenges that lay ahead.
"Most of Light's Vengeance will remain here," Sylvanas asserted, her tone unwavering as she addressed the group. "But myself and my best rangers will accompany those pressing ahead. We will provide support and ensure that no foe escapes our sight." None were surprised by her decision, her hatred of their foe was known to all.
As Uther's gaze shifted from Sylvanas to Bolvar and Varok, he spoke with a somber tone, addressing the need for unity even amidst the chaos of battle. "While there has been some cohesion between the forces of the Alliance and the Horde, I believe it would be for the best if you both remained here to keep order."
Bolvar and Varok exchanged a meaningful glance, silently acknowledging the wisdom in Uther's words. With a shared nod, they accepted their roles without protest, understanding the importance of maintaining stability amidst the turmoil of war.
Before further discussion could ensue, Darion and Velanara approached, their resolve evident in their determined expressions.
"I will join the assault further inside," Darion declared, his voice carrying the weight of authority born from his mastery of the legendary Ashbringer. His decision was met with silent approval from the gathered leaders, their confidence in his abilities unwavering.
Meanwhile, Liadrin turned her attention towards Velanara, assigning her a crucial task. "You will need to remain to lead the Sentinels of Light," Liadrin instructed, her voice firm yet compassionate. Velanara nodded in understanding, accepting the responsibility entrusted to her with a determined resolve.
With the division of roles settled, all eyes turned towards Jaina, who had remained silent until now. Uther hesitated for a moment, unsure of what her response would be. But before he could speak, Jaina's voice cut through the silence with unwavering determination.
"I will go," she declared, her gaze meeting Uther's with a steely resolve. "This madness needs to end. Arthas died long ago, and it is time I put him to rest."
Her words echoed with a sense of finality, a shared determination to confront the darkness that had plagued them for far too long. With their roles defined and their resolve strengthened, the companions prepared to face the looming battle ahead, united in their quest to bring an end to the tyranny of the Lich King once and for all.
So the story will conclude with chapter 35, since I posted chapter 34 on my patreon today. Chapter 35 will serve as an epilogue for the most part.