The Prince of Lordaeron

At the very top of Icecrown Citadel—the Frozen Throne.

The Lich King sat silently upon that frigid throne, like a dark statue buried beneath ice and snow.

Endless goose-feather snowflakes drifted down with the howling wind onto the vast circular platform atop Icecrown Citadel. The runes carved into Frostmourne's blade still radiated icy-blue energy.

A small group of living figures slowly ascended from below, stopping at the far end of the platform as they calmly faced the Lich King.

"What? Has the self-proclaimed righteous Holy Light finally arrived... Should I cast aside Frostmourne and beg for your forgiveness, Fording?"

Lich King Arthas gave a low chuckle.

Grand Lord Tirion Fording stepped forward, the Ashbringer in his hand blazing with scorching judgmental Holy Light.

"We will grant you a swift death, Arthas. For one who has committed such countless crimes, that is already the greatest mercy."

At those words, the Lich King abruptly rose to his feet. Gripping Frostmourne, he descended the steps before the Frozen Throne one step at a time.

"Let me tell you myself: when it is over, you will kneel and beg for my forgiveness. And I will refuse you. Your anguished wails will be the finest proof of my wild power."

"I will let you live to witness this apocalypse, Fording... This miserable world will be reforged by my hand. I would not want the Holy Light's strongest champion to miss it all."

Tirion drew a deep breath and stared directly at the Lich King. After a moment—

"Fine. Then come, warriors of Azeroth! Attack!"

As the Grand Lord's words fell, a deafening roar sounded out. The colossal floating fortress Naxxramas rose into the air from beneath the platform.

Dark Queen Sylvanas stood atop the floating fortress.

Beside her stood the resentful spirit of a human