Pix’s Note: Thus ends “book two” of the series. This time, it’s all me; Esmerellda’s part in this was done last week, so you’ll probably notice the difference. I’m not entirely sure I’m happy with the way this ended, or how short this portion seemed to be, but I plan on making up for it. Look for the next installment next week!

In case you missed them, here’s parts 1, 2, and 3

Oh, Light… this really hurts.

The first bit of pain came in my fingers and hands, blood rushing back into them where it had been absent for so long. With that pain came a new one, as the needles-and-thorns sensation worked its way to my brain, causing me to almost scream in agony. The jaw hurts a lot worse, though it seems to be getting better. I don’t know how I’m healing, but it doesn’t matter right now.

The most recent pain is the compression in my hands. I’m trying to slip free of the manacles that Malyss left me hanging from, but it’s difficult. It’s cold, the manacles are starting to freeze to my skin, and I’m racing against the clock here – Lelissa doesn’t have much time, and while my thoughts are telling me that I need to work quickly and carefully, my heart is forcing me to rush. I’m losing my friend with every second I’m stuck here, and if that happens, it’s all over for both of us.

I have to break free of these shackles.

“Minessa, let me go with you. You don’t have to go alone.” Lelissa was frowning, unable to understand why her sister was refusing her escort into Stormwind.

Glowing frost-colored eyes looked from Lelissa to Esmerellda and back again. Finally, they closed for the brief denial, a simple shaking of the head. “My name is Malyss now. Minessa is dead and gone.” A soft sigh filled the small space in front of Malyss’ lips with frost. “Anyway, I need to do this with the others of my order. You don’t have to protect me anymore, Lelissa. I’m not the same Paladin you remember. I’m so much more now… and a little bit less.”

Lelissa was fighting with the notion of leaving her sister’s safety to chance, as the mass of Death Knights congregating near the gates of Stormwind had been somewhat of a spectacle. People were gathering near the bridge on the other side of the gate, jeering and cursing the Knights of the Ebon Blade for the atrocities they committed, and what they were. The guards of Stormwind had gathered, and the looks on their faces clearly showed their feelings even if the bared steel did not.

The Death Knights were not welcome.

Lelissa looked at the guards at the gate, weighing her sister’s pride against her safety, and pride had won out. She nodded reluctantly, stepping to the side of the road to stand near Esmerellda as the delegation of Knights chosen by Mograine gathered before the gates. Malyss moved to join them, their dark armor and helms making them look fearsome and terrible against the calm and tranquility of Elwynn.

As the Knights resumed their march into the city, the guards moved to intercept them, weapons drawn. The Knights had left their runeblades behind with the larger contingent of Knights, but the guards of Stormwind knew well that they wielded weapons just as powerful as the ones they left behind.

A Human stepped forward, the appointed spokesman for the delegation. “Hold, guardsmen. We are here to treat with Varian Wrynn, King of Stormwind, at the behest of Darion Mograine and Tirion Fordring. We are not here to fight.”

“And who are you, then, who believes he deserves such an audience, Death Knight?” The crowd of guards parted at the voice, as a charger carrying General Marcus Jonathan cantered toward the pallid diplomat.

“I am called Virulent, General. I have a message for Varian Wrynn, which I have been instructed to deliver into his hands and none other. My companions and I are unarmed, and will gladly be escorted to his throne room if need be. We cannot leave until this is done.”

General Jonathan studied the man a few moments, then nodded. “Very well. We will not escort you, but our guards will be on the ready. Pass the word forth – the Death Knights are not to be harmed without cause.”

Pages sprinted off, carrying word to the guards and townspeople on the way to Varian’s throne room. The guards parted, allowing the Knights to pass through and on to King Varian, but even Jonathan’s orders didn’t prevent the townspeople from shouting curses and slurs at the Death Knights all the way to the Keep.

Malyss returned to the gates later a little worse for wear. Her armor was covered in rotted fruit and vegetable fragments, her hair sticky and matted. She reclaimed her blade from the Knights waiting by the road, then turned to face her sister. Her face was locked in carefully controlled anger; Esmerellda could tell that she wanted to lash out at something, anything, but was making a heroic effort at avoiding such a show in view of the people of Stormwind.

Lelissa walked forward, taking her sister’s hand. “Come on. There’s a stream near here. You can get cleaned up, and then we’ll take you to Gadgetzan. There are some people you need to meet.” The pair walked off to the south, Esmerellda following not far behind as the two sisters talked about what happened in the city. She couldn’t hear all of what they were saying, but she could pick up on the disappointment in Malyss’ voice, and the sympathy in Lelissa’s.

What Esmerellda did hear stuck with her most, though: only eight little words.

“I have to break free of these shackles.”

I don’t believe it; I finally managed to get my hands free. They’re a little messy, I guess, but peeling that much good skin from your body is never a good thing. They’ll heal. With a little help from the Light, they’ll even heal without too much scarring.

I hope I have enough power… yes, I can feel it. It’s like drawing water from a well, but once you start, it’s easy enough to keep it going.

The mana flows through me, shaped by my gestures, and channeled into Lelissa’s body, mending broken bones, healing torn organs, ripped muscle, shredded flesh… restoring the wandering soul to its body. I use a little of that power to heal my own wounds, and then I go to her… I want to be there when she wakes up.

Pix’s Note (EDIT): My paladin partner in crime (Esmerellda) actually brings up a good point that I needed to clarify: this is a conclusion, and it isn’t. It’s a conclusion of the story in the sense that this is where Malyss’ telling ends it. The story doesn’t end here, but it will continue in a different perspective.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Vengeance.

I saw my sister so clearly in the midst of that battle, though I’m still not sure if it was because of my hatred for her, or if it was because her white hair was easy to pick out in the crowd. My anger pulled me closer to her like a lodestone to a steel blade, my sword swinging in great arcs, cutting down ally and foe alike in my need to reach her. I screamed her name and she turned to face me, her expression shifting from confusion to recognition… surprise to a happy smile… and just as quickly replaced by sorrow and pity as she understood what I had become.

How dare she pity me for the powers I had gained. How dare she pity me, after the torments I faced because she failed to keep her promise! My rage took over then, and I threw myself at her, runeblade leading the way. Scant seconds later, I realized that I had erred.

My sister was powerful.

She was no longer the young, inexperienced Warrior I remembered on the front lines of the battle of the Exodar. She was strong, confident, skilled, and very in control of the rage that she tapped into in order to fight. She was too good; my attacks were parried, or worse, used to lead me into disadvantage. My spells were ineffective.

He lied to me.

The realization came to me as a shock as my runeblade whistled toward my sister’s midsection. She moved just out of reach of the blade and spun, too fast for me to follow right away, her axe swinging toward my head. I turned my gaze toward it, ready to face my fate and die at her hand, when the haft of her axe behind the axehead struck my skull and dropped me to the ground, my runeblade flying well out of reach.

I struggled to rise, turning my head so that I could offer a final defiance to my sister before she ended my existence, only to realize that she was only keeping me in her peripheral vision. Her gaze was fixed elsewhere. Warily, I shifted my position so I could see what was happening, noticing that the battle was ending and both sides had stopped fighting. Had we lost?

No… He had arrived on the battlefield. I saw Him in the distance, standing near Darion Mograine and a Paladin I didn’t recognize. I saw Him raise Frostmourne, and my dead heart rejoiced as I was about to witness the blade’s ability to steal the souls of the living. My eyes were wide at the beauty of that cold steel, with His frozen soul powering the blade, and I knew that the Paladin would die.

Frostmourne came down, and was rebuffed by a sword of blazing light. No, rebuffed is wrong; repelled is a truer word. There was a great flash of light, and I saw Him get thrown from this Paladin by the blast as though he were a rag doll, casually discarded by a child. He was driven away, back to the safety of Icecrown, and before I knew it, Mograine had a new task for us.

The Paladin, Tirion, gave us amnesty. The battle at Light’s Hope was done, and we had lost. Mograine’s task was for each of us to carry a missive to the Horde or Alliance capitals and pledge our service to them, and in return, they would help us take revenge on Him… on Arthas.

My sister reached out to me, offering her hand to help me up from the ground. I took it, looking into her eyes as a single tear ran down her cheek. Nodding to her as thanks, I knew that this was not the time for emotion – it was the time for action.

Lelissa’s guild took me in with open arms… but you knew that already, didn’t you? I took that opportunity to grow stronger, to improve my skills, and to seek out ensorcelled weapons and armor that would make me even more powerful.

Lelissa made sure that I felt welcome. At home. She even introduced me to her friends… and you. Everyone was so eager to make me a part of the “family,” but nobody really stopped to wonder what my true intentions were. All the while, I put on a fake smile, pretended at friendships, and even played at love. I even managed to fool you into thinking that I enjoyed your company. My sister’s faith and belief in you is obviously misplaced.

To think that you are her best friend… or is there something more between you?

Ridiculous.

I won’t apologize for the chains. Or the bruises. Or the cold, really, since I know it’s difficult to stay warm in that shift – I just couldn’t risk you having access to your armor and weapons. I’d say you should thank me for letting you live, but since you’re about to watch Lelissa die at my hand, I doubt that you’ll hold that sentiment long. In fact, I believe that’s her now… our race isn’t exactly gifted with stealth.

So here we are at the bitter end. You should use whatever faith you may have left and pray that my sister is victorious, dear Esmerellda… I’m sure that freezing to death would be most disagreeable.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

In the Hand of Argus, my role was a healer, someone who saved lives rather than took them. Of course, I always had to defend myself; Paladins are well-equipped, and a mace is an effective weapon, but as a healer, my skills were a bit lacking. At best, I was able to daze someone long enough for one of my compatriots to come along and finish the job.

With His power, though… I could feel how much I had changed, how easy it was to heft that runeblade for the first time. When I reported to the front lines, one of the San’layn, Prince Valanar, was there to issue my orders. I was to be part of an assault force that would sack Havenshire, just below Acherus. The orders?

Leave none alive.

You know, it’s just so…

easy…

to take a life after you’ve had a little practice, and the lines of morality blur more and more with each successive kill. I made my first kills as acts of vengeance, taking out my anger for those who betrayed me on the innocents of Havenshire. As the battles wound down, though, and all who remained were only civilians, I found myself killing because I liked it.

I noticed one house that had not yet been investigated, almost completely hidden by a hill and a small grove of trees. I turned and moved purposefully to the door, the ground beneath my feet withering and dying with each step. I wove between trees, letting my fingers brush over the trunks, smiling inwardly as each touch brought a withering death to the life within. As I drew closer, motion in the window made me pause for a moment, and one thought slipped through my mind: Survivors.

Leave none alive!

His voice shook me to the very core, flooded through me like rapture; even if I had wanted to resist, it would have been impossible. I closed my eyes and let that delicious shiver work its way down my spine, biting my lip in sheer ecstasy as it settled just above my tail. Then that smile was gone, replaced by solid ice and a cold stare as I moved the last dozen yards to the small home.

I pushed on the door; of course, it was barred from the inside. I was right, someone was indeed home, and in hiding. I let my hand rest on the solid wood, allowing the frost within me to permeate the door before I spun, runeblade flashing in the sunlight, and smashed the door into frozen shards. I heard the gasp of fear as I stepped through the doorway, and I turned to face the source of the sound.

My cold gaze settled on a young human woman cowering in the corner. Her face was nearly as pale as her hair, and she held a young girl tightly to her, as though to keep her warm in the face of a frozen soul. The resemblance between the two was obvious; this was her daughter, or very young sister. I stepped closer. The woman shook her head as if to deny my existence, pulling the child tighter against her. I pointed at her with my runeblade and said, “Make peace with whichever deity you choose. You’ll be meeting them very soon.”

She begged for me to spare the child, to let the little one escape into the nearby forest and survive. To her credit, she summoned enough rage to suggest that I owed it to her, as the Death Knights had already slain her husband. It was enough to make me pause; she moved the child in front of her, letting me look into her eyes, to see her beautiful face, and asked me again. “Will you please let her go?”

I moved my arm.

The runeblade pushed through the child’s body so easily, so quickly, ending her life an instant before the point pierced the mother’s heart. As her life ebbed away before my eyes, with so much hate and rage in hers, I smiled coldly at her, and said, “None shall live.”

Pix’s Note: Before I jump right into the story today, I want to remind everybody that it’s time for Brigwyn’s Children’s Week Child’s Play Auction! There are a lot of awesome things up for auction, so go check them out and put up some bids – it’s for a great cause!

By the time I had risen to a high rank in the medical squadron with the Hand of Argus, Prophet Velen and Vindicator Boros were planning to assault Tempest Keep. My role was a simple one – provide healing and support to the forward ranks (which included Lelissa among them). I took to my duties with ease and skill, mending even the most grievous wounds with the power of the Light. I watched Lelissa sometimes, worried that her battle rages and headstrong attitude would get her into a situation too much for her to handle.

Somehow, in the thick of fighting, we all found ourselves aboard the Exodar. The pilots rushed to the bridge in order to get the city-ship into the air, while those of us who remained at the entry doors fought back against the Blood Elf onslaught. We couldn’t hold… we were forced deeper into the structure, and enemy companies were able to break off and head through alternate routes toward the bridge, desperately trying to beat our engineers there. Finally, the great engines roared to life and the ship began to quake as it pulled away from Tempest Keep, but once the dimensional engines were activated, they failed. No, failed is the wrong word; the engines were sabotaged, a desperate attempt by the Blood Elves to keep us from leaving Draenor. Prophet Velen and the other leaders of the Draenei were not aware that the Blood Elves had managed to find their way to the engine room. Some prophet. It seemed like we were about to make a successful escape, but the moment we activated the Exodar, we knew nothing but disaster.

The destruction was immense. Fires exploded down passages, killing both Elf and Draenei without discrimination. Room after room burned and smoked, and all those on the ship went from battle readiness to self-preservation in the face of the devastation aboard this fortress careening through the Nether without control.

On board, our only hope was to grab on to something, and pray to the Light we would be alright. Lelissa and I were together in the darkness, and I remember the last thing I could hear her say to me before the Exodar cracked in half and our world ended.

“I will keep you safe.”

Amid the explosions and the deafening roar of wind as the shattered Exodar hurtled toward the surface of what I would later discover as Azeroth, I didn’t get to hear the rest of my sister’s words. It was just as well.

She lied to me, too.

I awoke some time later in chains. I looked at my bindings, and knew that it was cold: I could see ice on the cold iron, but I felt nothing. Panicked for a moment, I strained uselessly against the bonds, unable to gain a hoofhold in the bloodstained stones. Weary and defeated, I slumped to the floor, my head down. Angry, frightened tears forced their way out of me, freezing to my cheeks, another testament to my own inability to escape – even my tears were unable to break free. Suddenly, I realized one terrifying thing: I had expended so much effort, strained against these bonds, clawed and scraped to break free… but where I should have seen the vapor of hot air expelled from my lungs, I saw nothing.

I wasn’t breathing.