Part 2: I have no idea why I’m doing this IC but here’s some more Sarestha
I awoke in a dark place. The world was cold and grey. Skulls adorned the walls. Undead patrolled the halls. I was conscious of the fact that I should care, that it should horrify me. But… it didn’t. Somehow it felt… right. And the voice, in my head… At the time it was a beautiful voice. It seemed so right. I know now it was the Lich King, or at least a manifestation of his will.
I was trained by the Ebon Knights. My swordsmanship was already fine, so they worked on my forging and control of runes. Ironically, I showed affinity for the unholy, and trained within that school of death. I had scarcely even begun my training when we received word that the Scarlet Enclave had fallen, and the Highlord was leading a full scale attack on Light’s Hope. Again, I was aware that I should take issue with that… The Scarlet Enclave had been my home for some time. But I didn’t care. In fact, in anything, the news pleased me.
We moved out, and we lost. Everyone knows the story of the battle, but suffice it to say that most of the Knights of Acherus walked away with their free will, betrayed by the Lich King, and independent of his dire will. We became the Ebon Blade. Me? I became free.
And it was terrifying.
How do you reconcile a life of hating undead, of seeing them as the reason for all of life’s woes… with becoming one? To know that all my remaining friends and family would forever despise me. It was not easy. Faced with the horror of what I had become, I fled. I ran away to the west, trying to run from what I had become… but of course, it was impossible.
But as I ran, perhaps reason caught up with me. I began to think. My first realisation was that… I was still me. Even as an undead, at least while free of the Lich King’s will, I was still Sarestha Ravelle. I still dreamed of seeing my Kingdom restored. I still dreamed of seeing the Scourge destroyed. I was still… me.
I also came across the Forsaken, watching them from afar. And as I came to a degree of self awareness as to what I was, I realised what they were as well.
Free willed undead. Lordaeronians. People whose only crime was to die. People who put everything they had into reclaiming the tattered remnants of Lordaeron, and destroying the Scourge that caused all their woes.
People just like me.
And if that were the case… Perhaps my dream still had a purpose. Perhaps the remnants of Lordaeron COULD restore Lordaeron. Perhaps they COULD execute Prince Arthas, and destroy the vile Scourge forever. Perhaps the path to that goal, however, was not through the Scarlet Crusade. Perhaps the true successors of Lordaeron… were the Forsaken.
Armed with this realisation, I returned to Acherus. Calm now, resolute. They had been sending Death Knights to the Alliance and Horde. As a “human” Death Knight, it was their will that I go to Stormwind.
I said no.
I was never a woman of Stormwind. I am a woman of Lordaeron. One who died, and lost the goodwill and support of family, and friends. One who, while perhaps always a Paladin at heart, had lost the Light. One whose sole purpose in life AND unlife was the destruction of the Scourge, and the reclamation of Lordaeron.
I am not a human. I am Forsaken.
Part 3 coming sometime.