He stared up at the creature, rapt with horror, disbelief warring with the evidence before his eyes.
He had heard tales; had seen pictures in old books, both in the library at home and in the Dalaran
archives. But beholding this monstrous thing, towering over him, the sky behind him crimson and
black with and smoke—
A dreadlord was a demon. A thing out of myth. It couldn’t be real—and yet it was here, standing
before him in all its dreadful glory.
Dreadlord.
Fear threatened to overwhelm Arthas, and he knew if he let it it would cripple him. He would die at
the hand of this monster—die without even. And so with sheer will, he drowned out the
mindless terror with another, better emotion. Hatred. Righteous fury. He thought of those who had
fallen beneath his hammer, the living and the dead, the ravening ghouls and the women and
children who didn’t understand that he was trying to save their souls. Their faces bolstered him; they
could not—would not—have died for nothing. Somehow Arthas found the courage to meet the demon
stare for stare, clutching his hammer.
“We’re going to this right now,Despite herself, Aegwynn put a hand over her stomach.
“Yes, Mother dear,” said the past Medivh, the flames licking at his beard, the horns forming out of
smoke before zxcchaoshi his brows. He was
wow power leveling Medivh, but Sargeras as well. “I hid in your womb, and passed into the
slumbering cells of your unformed child. A cancer, a blight, a birth defect that you would never surmise.
Killing you was impossible, seducing
aion power leveling you unlikely. So I made myself your heir.”
Aegwynn shouted a curse and lurched her hands upward, her anger wrapped around words not made
for human voices. A bolt of
aion power leveling scintillating rainbow energy struck the Medivh/Sargeras creature full in the
chest.
The phantom of the past staggered back one step, then two, then raised a single hand and caught the
energy cast at him. The room
aion power leveling smelled of cooking meat, and the Sargeras/Medivh snarled and spat. He
invoked a spell of his own, and Aegwynn was flung across the room.
“I cannot kill you, Mother,” snapped
wow power leveling the demonic form. “Some part of me keeps me from doing that.
But Iwill break you. Break you and banish you, and by the time you’ve healed, by the time you’ve
walked back from where I will send you, this land will be mine. This land, and the power of the Order of
Tirisfal!” Mal’Ganis,” he shouted. His voice was strong and. “Just
you and me.”
The dreadlord threw back his head and laughed. “Brave words,” he rumbled. “Unfortunately for
you, it won’t end here.” Mal’Ganis grinned, black lips pulling back from sharp, pointed teeth. “Your
journey has just begun, young prince.”
He swept an arm out, indicating Arthas’s men, long, sharp claws glittering in the light of the
that still burned and consumed the great city. “Gather your forces and meet me in the arctic land of
Northrend. It is there that your true destiny will unfold.”
“My true destiny?” Arthas’s voice cracked with anger and confusion. “What do you—” The words
died in his throat as the air around Mal’Ganis began to shimmer and whirl in a familiar pattern.
“No!” Arthas shrieked. He surged forward, blindly, recklessly, and would have been cut down in a
heartbeat had not the teleportation spell been completed. Arthas cried out incoherently, swinging his
faintly glowing hammer at empty air. “I’ll hunt you down to the ends of the earth if I have to! Do you
hear me? To the ends of the earth!”
Manic, raging, screaming, he swung his hammer wildly at nothing until sheer exhaustion alone
forced him to lower it. He propped it up and leaned on it, sweating, shaking with raw sobs of
frustration and anger.
To the ends of the earth.
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