On the outskirts of Dawn’s Blossom, Mori sat atop a large boulder, watching water fall gracefully onto a river that flowed by willow trees, small bushes, and large areas of luscious grass. The death knight stood next to her on the grass, his rune blade planted into the ground. One arm rested upon its hilt while the other carried his helm. In its stead, he wore a simple hood which obscured his face from the nose up, but his eyes glowed even more brightly when not confined to the cracks in his skeletal helm. She suspected Sahtra preferred not to show his face in the outdoors if he could help it. Mori looked back and forth between the frightening helm and the intimidating human, careful not to let him catch her doing so. If he could tell, he said nothing, and stood still, watching the pristine water take its course.

 

The young blood elf once again removed her pet rock from the pocket in her robe and held it in her hands, caressing it gently. She had found it while exploring the Wailing Caverns, a smooth rock that almost appeared to glow in the sunlight.

 

“I named it Arthas because its color reminded me of his skin and hair, very grey.”

 

Sahtra turned his head towards the child in surprise. “You have seen him yourself, little one?”

 

“Yes,” Mori replied, “I was four years old when he attacked my homeland with his army.”

 

The death knight remained quiet, two thoughts running through his mind. The first was that Mori was older than she looked. The child was nearly an adolescent but still carried with her the energy and curiosity of one much younger than her age. The second manifested itself as a slight frown on his cold face. Many a blood elf had hurled insults or otherwise unpleasant objects at him for his association with undeath and the very magic that had corrupted their precious Sunwell. Sahtra had not expected such a positive reaction from Mori when they had first met, but perhaps that would change here. He did not know. He noticed the young blood elf tense up, shifting in her seat.

 

“Do you know why Arthas killed the elves?”

 

The question wasn’t spoken with accusation, though Sahtra could tell it was difficult for Mori to ask. Her glowing green eyes had widened and were focused intently on the water, though he could see nothing there. He suspected she was recalling the horrors, nothing short of a massacre, she had witnessed during the fall of the great elven city. Not being one to use decorative speech, the death knight gave his answer plainly.

 

“Yes, I do,” Sahtra replied, “Arthas was given orders from Ner’zhul to use the power of the Sunwell to resurrect Kel’Thuzad as a lich. He gave the elves several chances to surrender peacefully, but they resisted.”

 

Mori nodded quietly, then her eyes grew with a realization. “Wait, if you know that, then you were there…weren’t you?” She turned to the death knight and stared nervously at his eyes, her mouth slightly open in anticipation of hearing his answer.

 

“No,” the death knight replied, “I was dispatched further south at Lordaeron at the time.” Mori breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed somewhat at his response. “However,” he added, “Arthas confided in me. He told me about Kel’Thuzad, the Sunwell, and how he planned to free himself from Ner’zhul, the first Lich King.”

 

“Free himself,” Mori wondered aloud, “you mean he didn’t want to kill the elves?”

 

“It did not matter if he wanted to or not,” Sahtra replied, “his soul was under Ner’zhul’s control, and whatever the Lich King ordered, he would be forced to obey.” The death knight could easily read the curiosity on Mori’s face. “Would you like me to tell you a story about Arthas?”

 

Mori’s glowing green eyes brightened as she smiled at the opportunity. “Yes! I want to learn more!” the young blood elf exclaimed, “My mama always tells me stories, too! She makes all these pretty pictures with her hands.” The child made motions with her small fingers similar to a puppet master dictating the movement of his creations.

 

“Very well,” chuckled the death knight, “I am no artist, but I will do my best.” He pulled his runeblade out from its spot, leaving a thin scar of dead grass in its place, and set it aside next to him as he sat down, leaning on the wall of stone. “Come here, little one,” he spoke gently as he patted the grass to his left. Mori slid down from the large boulder and took her place next to him, eager to listen to the death knight’s story.

 

“Eight years ago, I followed Arthas, who was then Prince of Lordaeron, on a mission to Stratholme. On our way there, we came across several villages that had been infested by a plague that would raise the victims as slaves of the Scourge. He could not bear to see his people suffer, stripped of their humanity. Outraged, he sought to chase down the demon lord, Mal’Ganis, who was responsible for spreading this plague.”

 

The death knight shot small pieces of ice out from his gloved palms at the grass, creating a crude sculpture that resembled a bulky man with horns and wings. He handed it to Mori, who giggled as she played with it. It reminded her of a stuffed animal made of ice.

 

“Arthas found the demon lord at Stratholme, but he had arrived too late. He watched as his loyal subjects began to fall to undeath, and he realized that the only way to prevent them from serving Mal’Ganis was to kill them and destroy their bodies before the demon lord took control of their wills.”

 

Mori put the ice sculpture down and looked up at Sahtra. “Was there no other way?” she asked.

 

“No,” he answered, looking back at her, “there was no known cure and the plague would have spread very quickly. Even the plague only took seconds to manifest. Arthas tried to explain this to his mentor, Uther, and his beloved Jaina, but they refused to understand and left him alone. He had only us, the few soldiers who remained loyal, with him to carry out the deed.”

 

The young blood elf nodded solemnly. It had to have been a tough decision, she realized, but there really seemed to be no other way to save them from slavery and torment. The death knight continued with his story.

 

“As soon as we had purged the city, Mal’Ganis appeared as an illusion to taunt Arthas. ‘Come to Northrend,’ he said, ‘if you want to defeat me,’ and he disappeared. It was there that the Prince left me behind to look after Lordaeron while he pursued the demon lord. I did not see him again until several months later, where he told me what happened during that time.”

 

Sahtra once again constructed a crude figurine, this time of a sword planted into a pedestal.

 

“When Arthas arrived at Northrend, he found this runeblade named Frostmourne. It, for it appeared to talk to him, promised to help him defeat the demon lord, but in exchange it would place a curse upon the Prince. He didn’t care, however, he said he would bear any curse to save his people.”

 

“A runeblade!” Mori exclaimed, “Like yours, right?”

 

“Similar in appearance, yes,” the death knight replied, “though his sword was much more powerful. When Arthas took Frostmourne in his hand, it stole his soul, and he became a slave to the Lich King.”

 

Mori’s eyes went wide with shock and she glanced nervously at the blade resting next to the death knight. “Does that one take souls, too?” she asked in a hushed tone.

 

Sahtra let out a hearty laugh and reached for his runeblade. “No, child, this one does not; I control its power, it does not control mine. Would you like to touch it and see for yourself?”

 

The young blood elf nervously looked back and forth between the death knight and his blade and nodded. The human held out the sword, and Mori placed her small hand on the flat metal. It felt chilling to the touch and she could sense the tremor of power from within the blade. It caused her no harm, however, and she studied it for a while longer, tracing her index finger along the runes engraved on its body.

 

“Are you finished, little one?”

 

“Yes.” Mori was satisfied.

 

The death knight placed his rune blade back to his side and continued with his tale.

 

“Arthas discovered that the voice he had heard coming from Frostmourne was actually that of Ner’zhul, the first Lich King. He did use its power to slay Mal’Ganis, but only because the Lich King had willed it, too. Arthas thought he had accomplished his task, but Ner’zhul had greater plans for our Prince in mind. Now that he had control over the young man, the Lich King would use him to break free of the Burning Legion.

 

“The Burning Legion,” Mori repeated, recalling tales of the destructive body of demonic forces that time and time again had ravaged the lands of Azeroth, “they were involved, too?”

 

“Yes,” Sahtra replied, “The spirit of Ner’zhul had originally been given tremendous power by the Legion to become the Lich King so that he would weaken Azeroth before the demons invaded again. However,” he continued, “Ner’zhul needed time and someone with a physical body who would carry out his will for him.”

 

“And that someone was Arthas.”

 

“Yes, and he had several tasks for him to do. The first was for Arthas to return to Lordaeron and pick up a certain urn.”

 

Mori frowned at the mention of another urn. More importantly, however, she now recognized the location he referred to. “Lordaeron? That’s where you’re from, right?”

 

“Yes, child,” answered the death knight. “When Arthas returned from Northrend, he was welcomed with open arms, but he would quickly be remembered as a traitor. Under Ner’zhul’s control, he ravaged the land with his army and slayed its King and thousands of its citizens, including those who were once my family.” Mori’s eyes grew wide in shock; she had not known this man had lost his loved ones as well. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words would not come.

 

“Arthas knew he was being used,” Sahtra continued after the young blood elf remained silent for several moments, “and he did not like it. Arthas shared Ner’zhul’s sentiments against the Burning Legion, but he wished to act of his own free will. When he sought me out for assistance, I pledged to him my allegiance as a soldier, and my aid and trust as a friend.”

 

“And you became a death knight?”

 

“Indeed,” Sahtra replied, “and I did so willingly. I did it to help my friend and my King in his quest to save his people, no matter what it took.”

 

“What happened after that?”

 

“The next point of attack,” Sahtra replied, “was Quel’Thalas. It was there that he would use the urn, now filled with Kel’Thuzad’s remains, to resurrect him as a lich. Arthas told me to stay in Lordaeron for the time being, and he promised to return.”

 

“So…was the Sunwell the only reason he invaded?”

 

“No, but he didn’t know it at the time. He had given the elves many chances to lay down their arms and avoid a bloody conflict. The Legion counted on their pride, however. The dread lords knew the elves would never allow Arthas to walk in freely and taint the Sunwell, so they used this as an opportunity to wipe out one of the few strongholds that could oppose them once they walked Azeroth freely.”

 

Mori looked back at the rock in her hands. So there had been more to the attack! She had not known about this, and if Kaelstrasza hadn’t told her, she probably didn’t know, either. The young blood elf wondered if anyone else who had survived Quel’Thalas had this information, but it was unlikely.

 

“Why was Kel’Thuzad important?” Mori asked, looking back up at the death knight, “Was he part of the Legion’s plans, too?”

 

“Indeed, he was,” Sahtra replied, “after being raised by the Sunwell’s energies, he would have become a powerful tool aiding the dread lords. But the necromancer was far too loyal to Arthas and the Lich King to be used by the demon lords. He pretended to keep his loyalty to the Legion while continuing to conspire against them behind their backs.”

 

“The Burning Legion was eventually defeated, but Ner’zhul’s power was growing weaker. The demons who survived wanted him dead once and for all, so Ner’zhul called out to Arthas to merge with him and save his powers. And so, with the aid of Kel’Thuzad and the strength of his army, Arthas escaped to Northrend and became the new Lich King.”

 

“And that,” the death knight declared, “is the end of my story.” Mori thought she noticed Sahtra frown underneath his hood, but the expression returned to that of his usual stoic demeanor. “Did you like it?”

 

“I loved it!” Mori smiled genuinely as she played with her pet rock, “I’m relieved, actually, thank you.” She placed the rock on her lap as her smile faded and she stared at the death knight’s glowing blue eyes. “I used to have nightmares when I was younger. I wanted to know why all the elves died, who the giant skeleton was, why the Sunwell turned black…and now, I know. I understand.” She blinked a few times and resumed playing with her rock, seemingly in thought.

 

Her words brought a touch of warmth to Sahtra’s otherwise cold heart. No matter how much his King had sacrificed, he had been branded a villain by many across Azeroth. This child, it seemed, was willing to listen and understand all sides to a story, a trait not even most adults deemed to be mature possessed.

 

“One last question,” Mori spoke up, “if it’s okay?”

 

“By all means,” Sahtra replied, “go ahead.”

 

“What happened to my parents?” The young blood elf asked. “They died during the invasion…could they be undead now?”

 

The death knight shook his head. “It is unlikely,” he responded, “Arthas did not choose to take his time at Quel’Thalas. He only went to carry out the action that needed to be done. Save for a few leaders, rangers, and others who got in his way in combat, he left the dead elves alone.”

 

Mori nodded. It was for the best. Her parents would have received their final, peaceful rest in their homeland. If they were undead, however, the young blood elf would have liked to meet them again.

 

“I studied with warlock trainers in Quel’Thalas, and I know how to summon demons,” Mori spoke, “but if my parents and many other elves died because of the Burning Legion, then I promise to never use them.” The child stood up and placed her hands on her hips. “I will practice summoning the undead and other spells so that one day, I will become a very powerful necromancer!” She flexed her arms and grinned at the death knight.

 

Sahtra allowed a smile to appear on his stoic face. Working with Mori would be a wild adventure, he was sure of it.