I had originally planned to write a few more chapters, but someone dragged me out to have some fun today. I hadn't intended to go at first, but then I thought, it was a holiday after all, so why not? Ever since I started writing this book, I hadn't really had a chance to enjoy myself.
A warm breeze swept across Lordaeron, stirring up clouds of dust. The once lush, verdant land had become a wasteland.
Invincible galloped across the land. Riding him, Arthas gripped the reins with both hands and watched the dark specks appearing ahead, a cruel expression spreading across his face. His long, silvery-white hair streamed in the breeze, and Frostmourne, the demonic sword, radiated a chill beneath the sunlight.
As Invincible advanced, the dark specks finally resolved into figures. They were a group of routed soldiers, one of whom clutched the banner of Lordaeron. Hearing the pounding of hooves, he turned back and saw a dark mass of cavalry charging toward them like a torrent. He gave up trying to flee.
A man could not outrun a warhorse, even one that was already dead.
"Zeliek, you will soon become my most loyal servant. You will fight for me, against those friends and relatives of yours." Arthas drove Frostmourne into a soldier's chest. As he pulled the demonic sword free, blood gushed out, its crimson color strikingly vivid.
The pull emanating from the demonic sword caught hold of the soldier's soul. However desperately the soldier struggled, all resistance was futile before Frostmourne. His soul slowly sank into the blade.
"You deserve to rot in hell!" Enraged by Arthas's toying manner, Zeliek swung his warhammer at him, its head blazing with the radiance of the holy light.
A cold gleam flashed in Arthas's eyes as he raised his