Prologue: An End to All Things

The voice came suddenly from somewhere atop the hill – it carried throughout the valley, deep and shrill, a voice determined to wreath fear and despair into the mightiest heart.

Soldiers of the Scourge, stand ready! You will soon be able to unleash your fury upon the Argent Dawn!

There were no cheers and no answers following that order. Only the echo, fainter and fainter, yet the burden on his shoulders seemed to grow heavier. He wanted to throw it away somehow and run, burrow into the ground like the worm he was…cower and howl… for the lives that were soon going to be nothing more than memories…memories carried by the wind…and the only thing that will burn for remembrance might be that wooden church standing so proud above them all...

Not again, not again, not again…

The voice in the back of his head was frantic with anguish and despair. If he would relinquish control to it for a mere second, he would be crawling in the dust weeping. He ground his hand harder against the sword hilt, the intricate elven carvings digging into his palm.

I do not believe in second chances.

That was a very lucid thought. It came from a different part of his mind and he let it sink in, shocked by the realization. She stood across from him; a short, fragile looking woman back very straight in her battle gear - her eyes betrayed the same fear that choked him.

Soldiers of the Scourge, death knights of Acherus, minions of the darkness: hear the call of the Highlord! RISE!

There were almost three hundred defenders gathered around Light’s Hope Chapel; for a second all seemed to be holding their breath. A shiver passed through each and every man or woman – around them the hills blackened and swarm with the endless numbers of Scourge ready to be unleashed at a sign.

This is not a last line of defense. Not even a fight. It’s going to be a slaughter.
Again the thought was cool. The other voice babbled inside his skull – the voice of a man already gone mad.

cannot see, cannot face it cannot again once again once again

He crushed it, fighting with each breath for calmness. It would be over soon.

Never- never- it’s never over- don’t you know -you will serve in death- forever serve the abomination -forever serve

The shrilling cry came again, over the empty spaces in between the Scourge army and the dell in which they were gathered.

The skies turn red with the blood of the fallen! The Lich King watches over us, minions!
Spare no one!

For a second he was sure his teeth were chattering. The woman’s gaze met his and held still for a second. Her lips formed words unheard, but her read their meaning in her tear glazed eyes.

“Ane mela’lle, Eirean.”
I love you, Eirean.

The vortex in his mind spun maddeningly. For a second past and present seemed to melt into horrifying panic. A part of him waited for Sylvanas Windrunner’s order to charge into the incoming Scourge. The other one acknowledged the determination in Lord Maxwell Tyrosius’s voice as he lifted his sword in front of him.

Stand fast brothers and sisters! The Light will prevail!

Faith, Father Marcus – his tutor back in Stratholme had once said, can move mountains. It is not the Light that guides your hands; it is your faith that the Light does so.” He struggled to remember the rest…the hollow words of the prayers that had once held so much meaning…but nothing came, only an awful, broken howl...
not again not again not again

Faith. We are not done yet. Have faith. We –are –not - done – yet…
He couldn’t say whether it was just a memory or he had yelled those words out loud himself, on top of his lungs. With a blood-freezing battle cry the Scourge charged forward - a line of black armor clad deathknights at their front. The Argent Defenders moved as one to meet them.

Faith, Eireannan thought suddenly composed while he aimed a shadowbolt at an incoming ghoul. The sword sliced neatly through another whose claws where searching for his throat. At the very least we’ll make our deaths count.