Resurgence of the Light ch 27

The day had been won, and a great evil had been vanquished; no longer would Kel’thuzad’s dark ambitions threaten the world. As they struck down the Lich and he spoke his chilling promise, both the Light’s Chosen and Krasus entered the room.

With a wave of his hand, their strength returned, and those who had died were purged of the necrotic taint permeating their bodies. But more than that, as the Light’s Chosen extended his arm, he rent the very fabric of space apart in front of him, revealing an urn hidden from their gazes.

“Foolish Lich, did you truly think you could hide from me?” A sneer escaped the Light’s Chosen as light engulfed the urn, and screams of rage, pain, and fear echoed around them before falling silent.

With a dismissive wave of his hand, he banished even the echoes of the Lich and turned to regard those who had fought valiantly on this day. “The day has been won, a great victory has been achieved today; no more will this evil threaten the world. The day is yours. Take pride in your accomplishment and stand tall, for it is you who have banished this evil and allowed the Light to shine once more.”

With each word he spoke, those before him felt a fire burn in their chests and smiles grow on their faces. Sharing smiles with those around them, they could not contain themselves any longer and released a cheer, thrusting their weapons high and letting the sweetness of this moment fill them.

“Well done,” Krasus murmured beside the Light’s Chosen. Though initially confused, he quickly understood why the Light’s Chosen had not led the charge here and now.

For while he could no doubt have achieved success, it would have made others question their presence and feel unneeded. By allowing them to carry this victory upon their own shoulders, he had strengthened their resolve and allowed them to feel pride in their accomplishment, thus securing their determination and resolve for the true battle ahead.

~~~~

Sylvanas trudged through the snow, each step burdened with a weight that seemed to increase with every move. The wintry landscape, adorned with pristine white blankets, stood in stark contrast to the gravity of their purpose. Beside her, Sally strode resolutely, unwavering in her commitment. Her determination was palpable, a steadfast resolve to undertake whatever was necessary for the safeguarding of their realm; a duty she accepted willingly.

With a sense of foreboding, Sylvanas murmured, "He will not be pleased with us," dreading the impending conversation.

"Let him. If it means securing the future of this world, I am ready to face his wrath," Sally replied, exuding an unshakable resolve. She remained resolute, unwavering in her chosen path.

As they ascended the final step, they beheld their quarry – Light's Chosen. He had retreated to the mountain peak adjacent to their stronghold, an enigmatic figure observing vigilantly, seemingly impervious to the biting winds and swirling snow. He made no gesture acknowledging their arrival, yet an unspoken acknowledgment lingered in the air, confirming his awareness of their presence.

"What do you hope to achieve with your actions?" His voice reverberated across the expanse, freezing them in their tracks. They exchanged a glance of surprise, silently questioning whether it was possible that he knew their purpose.

The weight of his inquiry hung heavy in the frosty air. Sally's resolve wavered for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features before she gathered herself again, determined not to falter. Sylvanas, on the other hand, maintained her composure, masking her surprise with a cool, collected facade.

The Light's Chosen stood before them, an imposing figure against the wintry backdrop. His presence exuded an aura of knowing, an almost unnerving perception that seemed to penetrate their very intentions.

Sylvanas glanced at Sally, silently urging her to remain steadfast. They had anticipated challenges, but not this level of prescience from the enigmatic guardian of the mountain.

"We seek to ensure the continuation of your legacy," Sally answered, her voice unwavering, attempting to veil her unease. Sylvanas stood by her side, a silent supporter in this unexpected confrontation.

The Light's Chosen remained unmoved, his stance unwavering. "And what legacy do you foresee?" His question lingered in the biting wind, his penetrating gaze seemingly seeing through the veils of their intentions.

Sylvanas felt a knot tighten in her stomach, a mix of apprehension and determination churning within her. The weight of their purpose hung in the balance, under the scrutiny of this guardian whose insight bordered on unsettling.

"We seek to safeguard the future, to ensure that what is left behind endures beyond us," Sylvanas interjected, her voice firm despite the undercurrent of uncertainty.

The silence that followed was deafening, only broken by the howling winds sweeping through the mountaintop. The Light's Chosen remained inscrutable, his unyielding presence casting a formidable shadow over their intentions.

"I have already secured the future; the measures you seek are unnecessary." he continued, maintaining his gaze forward. While Sylvanas contemplated silently, Sally steeled herself, dispelling any hesitations or doubts. Her determination surged within her once more. "Perhaps, but one can never be too certain. I seek to ensure the endurance of your legacy, to always remain prepared to-" "be exploited," he interjected, his words chilling the air.

"What life do you envision for this child? Burdened by insurmountable expectations, perpetually deemed inadequate, never truly cherished for who they are, but rather for what they might become." Turning to face them, traces of anger seeped through his demeanor.

"Deprived of the freedom to make choices, to experience growth through mistakes and learning. Denied the chance to stumble, rise, and live," he spoke as he approached Sally, who stood transfixed.

Coming to a halt before her, he loomed, his face concealed by an inscrutable helmet. "Simply a tool, destined to be used and abused," he concluded, leaving nothing but the chilling rush of the wind as the only audible sound.

~~~~

It had been months since their victorious assault on Naxxramas. In the time following it, more and more factions and individuals offered their assistance as it became evident that the Lich King feared their efforts and launched premeditated attacks on almost everyone.

Ironically, his efforts only intensified their anger and resolve to confront him. Even the Horde raised their banners and journeyed to join them, causing inevitable friction with the Alliance. However, under the steadfast leadership of Uther, a tenuous peace was maintained.

Tirion's arrival further solidified their cause. He had left his son Taelan in charge back in the newly rebuilt Lordaeron.

However, none of these developments intrigued Sylvanas as much as witnessing her own people being led by Liadrin, a Matriarch of the Sentinels of Light—an order formed by the Light’s Chosen himself. It appeared that this was what he meant when he spoke of securing the future.

More than that, it seemed he had also diverted Prince Kael’thas from a dark path that would have led many of her kind astray. In doing so, he secured an ally in the form of these Draenei.

Initially wary due to their close resemblance to the demons of the Burning Legion, Sylvanas didn't know what to make of them. However, witnessing how the Light responded to them and getting to know them better eased her apprehension. Their positive influence on what remained of her people was undeniable. Prince Kael’thas had opened their lands for them to settle, and once their similarities became known to both groups, a sense of understanding prevailed.

Their shared tumultuous and painful pasts, even encountering the same aggressors in the form of the Orcs, facilitated an easier acceptance of one another. Shared pain often has the power to bring people together.

Another significant change in these past months was the Light’s Chosen becoming more withdrawn, offering his input rarely, if at all. He remained within sight yet distant. While he would provide insight if approached, it seemed he had relinquished all responsibilities to Uther and the newly appointed Ashbringer – Darion Mograine, son of the late Alexandrios Mograine.

Surprisingly, the attack on Naxxramas and its subsequent destruction and eradication of the evil contained within was not the only goal the Light’s Chosen sought. He intended to forge a champion, another method by which he secured the future. Sylvanas felt foolish for the plan she and Sally had devised.

Sadly, Sally took the rejection much harder than Sylvanas did. While her work and determination remained largely unaffected, Sally became melancholic and adrift.

Thus, Sylvanas was surprised to witness the Light’s Chosen seeking out Sally and both departing to unknown places a few days ago. Although many dismissed it as another of his excursions, Sylvanas suspected there was more to it. Sally's renewed energy and happiness upon their return, and the smile on her face, confirmed it. Despite her curiosity, Sylvanas decided not to pry. If her suspicions were correct, she believed it best not to draw attention to it.

~~~~

Uther stood upon a high ledge, his gaze fixed on the construction of their new fortress—a stronghold that would serve as a bastion for their advance into the heart of Icecrown itself. Above them, the majestic city of Dalaran floated in the skies, a testament to the unfathomable possibilities unlocked by magic—be it the guiding Light, the enigmatic Arcane, or even the twisted art of Necromancy. The scope of these powers and their capacity for extraordinary achievements never ceased to astound him, far beyond what he, as a young boy, could have ever envisioned.

Yet, amid this marvel, he couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow at the sight of the undead, shuffling relentlessly towards them, only to be repelled by their determined forces. It was a stark reminder—one he would have preferred never to witness—that while such powers held potential for greatness, they also harbored the potential for darkness.

"Power corrupts," Uther murmured to himself, his eyes tracing the movements of the undead horde. "And from that corruption, evil is born. It festers and grows, morphing into something truly monstrous."

The sight of the undead, mere manifestations of perversion through corrupted magic, served as a stark testament to the perils that lay within the very essence of power. It was a lesson etched into the fabric of his being through the countless battles and trials he'd faced. The allure of wielding immense power often led down a treacherous path, one that tainted the purest intentions and birthed unspeakable horrors.

As he surveyed the scene below, Uther reflected on the responsibility that accompanied wielding such powers. It wasn’t merely about the might they offered but the choices one made in harnessing them. The true measure of one’s character lay in how they wielded these powers—whether for the greater good or for self-serving ambitions.

The construction of their fortress continued, a testament to their determination to combat the forces of darkness. Uther understood that the true challenge lay not only in building physical fortifications but in fortifying the hearts and souls of those who stood against the darkness. It was a constant battle against the seductive allure of power and the courage to wield it wisely.

With a heavy heart, Uther resolved to ensure that the power they harnessed would always serve the noblest of causes, for in the face of darkness, it was not only their swords but their unwavering resolve that would ultimately decide the fate of their world.