Chapter 174

The war room within the central tower of Quel'Vanar was silent as everyone present processed what had happened. 

From the sudden removal of shields, to Kel’Thuzad's mad dash to land his troops. 

It all seemed to happen so fast, no one had anticipated either event. 

The King, however, was quick to bark out orders. 

“House Vandercross, secure the northern flank, Lor'Themar shall hold the east, General Nightsong the west. I shall be the one to destroy the central Necropolis in the south.” 

Upon finishing his statement, he snapped his fingers, and Al'ar spawned out of a puff of flame. 

“Kiiieer!” The Phoenix cried loudly. 

“Come, Al'ar, Jan'alai, we shall take to the skies. The rest of you, defend where you think you are needed, obey the commands of my named Generals.” Kael turned back to the assembled Heroes, & Elites, then stepped out onto the balcony. 

“But Your Highness, the ritual spell they are preparing is not simple! I implore you, allow your Spellbreakers to counter it!” Dranarus strode after Kael, and said in a fretting tone. 

“Exit the tower, and go to the front lines, Knight-Lord. I will handle this.” Kael said sternly, his back faced Dranarus, and signaled the Spellbreaker Captain's dismissal. 

“I live to serve the Sunstriders.” Dranarus saluted, and clanged his fist against his chest.  

Cape flapping madly in the wind, Kael beheld a giant skull of snow and ice coalescing around his foe's fortress. It radiated a grand power, and was weaved together with hundreds of complicated spell matrices. 

Analyzing the structure of it, Kael had to admit, it was a work of art. Whoever had dreamed up this ritual spell was a genius. 

“Are you certain you don't require assistance?”Varrus asked, stepping onto the balcony beside him. 

“You have your assignment, Varrus. As soon as you have dealt with your section of the battle, then you may return to witness the enemy's destruction.” Kael said heavily, and eyed Varrus as if staring at his friend would convey how serious he was. 

“The enemy spell threatens to destroy Quel'Vanar. If that happens, over 90% of our army shall perish. Is pride truly more important than the safety of your people?”

“Pride? Is this what you think this is? Don't let fame get to your head, First Seat. Do as your King commands. You are needed elsewhere.” Kael said with finality. 

“....very well, King Sunstrider.” Varrus said with some bite to his voice, before he sighed, and spoke softly. “The throne must be a weighty responsibility, and the affairs of state are rather chaotic. I will follow this order, Kael. But don't you forget, I am the First Seat of this government, not a guard or lackey. We will talk after this campaign.” Varrus finished with a weak smile, he then grabbed ahold of Syra, and went to martial his House troops. 

“Getting moody on me again, eh? Maybe another toss in the bed and-” Jan'alai began, only to be cut off by a strong, magically attuned palm pushed her back, driving the air out of her. 

“I must concentrate.” Kael demanded. 

“Mnnnrggh! I like this confident side of you. Har, har, message received, Goldilocks.” Jan'alai grinned like a shark as she posted up behind Kael, yet remained silent. 

Ignoring his paramour, Kael narrowed his eyes as he toned out all other distractions, and focused on the rhythm, ebb and flow of the enemy ritual. 

Pressure was mounting as the essence of death, decay, and frost permeated the air. 

Priests, Paladins, and Mages were casting hundreds of spells to try and combat this encroaching demise, yet it was futile. 

After spending 5 minutes analyzing this spell, Kael proved why he was the most genius magical prodigy to have ever been born within the kingdom of Quel'Thalas. 

“There!” Kael exclaimed to himself as he finally spotted the weakness that would undo everything the Scourge forces had been working towards. 

As soon as he made this exclamation, the spell just about reached its apex, and was about to be unleashed upon the central, 50 story tower. 

At that moment, dozens of reports, pleas, and messages flooded Kael’Thas's scrying orb, yet he ignored them. 

Pulling upon Felo'melorn tightly, fire and flame entered Kael's veins. 

The Phoenix realm sang to him, and he lifted his legendary sword high. 

Using Felo'melorn as a focus, Kael brought about a warm heat, and purity to the scene. Yet this was merely a byproduct of what he had in mind. 

Snorting to himself, Kael began the words to his own spell. 

“Ignis Nom Riõn! Ignis Nom Riõn Tai'Kada.” 

Repeating the line three times, Kael’Thas pulled upon the energy of Phoenixes, and fed them his infinitely replenishing mana. 

A trio of white Phoenixes-each one the size of a chick-flew around Kael, and feasted. 

They supped mightily upon the offering of his vital force. Such was the nature of the birds, that they greedily took everything Kael offered and more. 

The result, however, was instantaneous. 

This trio of white hot Phoenixes rapidly increased to the size of an average one story house. 

“Kiieer!” Al'ar shooed the other Phoenixes away, annoyance coloring his voice. 

As soon as they pulled away, Kael almost fell to his knees as weakness took ahold of him. 

Gasping for a breath, Kael crumpled his open hands into fists, and roughly pushed Jan'alai away. 

Face pale as if he had lost a tremendous amount of blood, Kael grinned at what he had wrought. 

Varrus may be the most popular Elf in Silvermoon at the moment, but once it was clear that he was responsible for destroying the one who tainted the Sunwell in the first place, Kael would reclaim his lost prestige. 

Feelings of jealousy and envy colored his emotions as Kael mentally directed the trio of birds towards the floating icy skull. 

“Hieeer!” The birds screeched as wave after wave of Life, Light, and Elemental Fire poured forth. 

The skull cackled at the oncoming mass of power, and began its own strange chant. Strangely, the words it spoke were recognizable no matter the listener, crossing all language barriers.

“Doom. Doom. Doom. Death. Death. Death. Rattle. Rattle. Rattle. Breath. Breath. Breath. 

Cold gasps forever naught. 

Rot eats the sum of all flesh. 

ALL THINGS DIE.” 

The concept of death spread across the battlefield, icy tundras, and a blizzard of ice shards acted as its herald as they were carried across torrential winds. 

“Kiier!” The Phoenixes cried out as they were caught up in the storm. 

One fully collapsed, whilst another was encased in a block of ice, slowly withering. 

The last Phoenix blasted fire from its mouth, but could not break through the storm. 

“Ey, now might be the time to recall Vandercross, right?” Jan'alai said, worry entering her typically robust voice for the first time in a very long time. 

Meanwhile, in the war room, the Heroes who had yet to leave were looking on aghast. Horror filled the room as the creeping cold eerily reminded them of the sacking of Silvermoon. 

Of that man. 

Arthas the wind seemed to whisper, catching on to their fears like a spider trapping its prey in its web. 

“P-prepare the grand ritual!” Grand Magister Astalor Bloodsworn yelled to the other Heroes. 

Skilled in barriers, traps, and binding magic, Astalor sought to contain the threat. By doing this, he would lock the enemy Heroes in place, as they would have to maintain their ritual if they didn't want to lose momentum. 

With the Scourge Heroes occupied, Astalor was certain His Majesty would be capable of achieving victory. 

Beginning the words to the spell, Astalor realized it was too late, as the massive skull of ice came crashing down towards them. 

Telonicus, witnessing this, input several commands into Quel'Vanar’s shields. 

The floating city groaned as the barrier reduced in size, and became focused at the point of Kel'Thuzad's ritual. 

Massive energies strained, and Mana Stone after Mana Stone turned to dust from the effort, yet they had done their job! 

The skull had rammed itself again and again towards the Elven line, yet it could not cross! 

However, as a result of this forced repositioning, the barrier could not defend the rest of Quel'Vanar, and the skull began to attack the Rune Stones, and other markings that bound the shield to Quel'Vanar in the first place. 

Breathing a sigh of relief at this outcome, Alastar began directing the other Magisters, and started on a chant. 

Fortunately, their army had created chokepoints, and the overwhelming numbers of the Scourge could not be fully brought to bear. 

So long as the shield, and the troops held, Alastar was confident that he could finish his spell.  

Meanwhile, Kael clung to the balcony overlooking the central square with sour feelings of inadequacy. 

The mere suggestion that he couldn't defend his people by himself stung like no other. 

Having fully accepted his duties and responsibilities as the King. Kael’Thas wanted to be beloved, to be feared, admired and respected. 

Yet every day he heard whispers of Varrus Vandercross. Of his daring assaults, forged alliances, and other unverified heroics. 

Just the other day, he had restored the Sunwell, and shamed the entire army into remembering their reason for invading the Eastern Kingdoms. 

For the first time since he returned to Quel'Thalas, Kael felt threatened from within. 

It felt as if he were becoming irrelevant. That he was slowly transitioning into a mere paper monarch. To be bowed at, and look pretty for the masses. 

“I am no piece of paper to be drawn over, or folded as one pleases.” Kael growled aloud to himself. 

Eying the floating skull of ice, the young King had an expression of scorn written across his face. 

If the Phoenix could not warm the air, then he would rely upon his tried and true XYZ magic. 

Chanting the words to a spell, Kael’Thas released a wave of invisible energy towards the enemy. 

Everything the wave touched caused things that intended to move left go right, for any thing that was supposed to go forward, would go backward. 

This sudden change in environment clashed with the conceptual meanings of Cold Death. 

Both spells sought dominance, to determine which aura could hold sway over this slice of Azeroth. 

Kael scoffed, and twitched his fingers. 

Several invisible vector arrows pierced the cloud of black ice & snow. Gaps began to open up within the ritual spell's formation as Kael worked his magic. 

“Genius you may be, but sad for you, you aren't dealing with the average Magister anymore. I, King Sunstrider alone, am worthy of breaking you.” Kael loudly gloated. 

His voice magically boomed across the battlefield, so that it was heard by both friend and foe. 

Whilst he felt some embarrassment at the declaration, and felt as if he was copying Varrus's style, this declaration felt cathartic. 

It was cathartic, because as soon as he had finished speaking, the mists, fogs, blizzards and other Death tainted moisture fled the scene like an igloo flung into the sun. 

In short, the maniacal skull fractured and fell apart into nothing as Kael’Thas had broken it from the inside. 

Instead of using overwhelming power, like Varrus was wont to do-something Kael had tried to emulate-he went back to what made him, him. 

He fought using his knowledge! 

Upon the dissipation of the skull, the Covenant forces cheered, and renewed their defensive efforts. 

Morale was at an all time high, and casualties were low. 

“Kael’Thas Sunstrider. Know the voice of your once upon a time fellow classmate. It is I, Kel’Thuzad!

As a fellow learner, I inform upon you, Men and Mer, that Kael’Thas is no mere Magister, yet do not let this praise blind you of the truth. 

Sunstrider abandoned his allies at Dalaran, was late returning to Quel'Thalas despite teleportation being an option, and yet he claims the mantle of genius. 

Can a boy like this truly be worthy of his title?” Kel’Thuzad's voice taunted. It spread across the battlefield in a low, raspy voice, one that every man or woman had to listen to, no matter how much they wished not to. 

“Paltry talk from a lesser character. As if the words of a second rate failed magician hold any sway, your attempts at sowing discord are as obvious as your failure. Only the desperate and stupid chose to become Undead. But this question can be answered within the hour. 

Because by the end of the day, I shall be holding a class on the finer intricacies of failure. I shall host your corpse on the highest pedestal in a place of honor. Perhaps even my friend, Varrus Vandercross shall host a play to commemorate the occasion.” 

“The famous playwright immortalizing my defeat? Nay, Sunstrider, your insults are as elementary as is your thinking. 

However, you believe yourself so clever as to break apart every spell at its core. 

Since you are so confident, I gift upon thee my masterpiece. A challenge for the ages! 

Answer this, Elf King:

DEATHS REQUIEM!!!”