Guilt

"What?! You're going alone?! That's far too dangerous!" Jaina firmly opposed Arthas going to the South Camp on his own.

Arthas patiently explained, "Jaina, I'm his target. If you come along, you'll only put yourselves in danger."

Mal'Ganis intended to lead the prince of Lordaeron down the path of corruption, using him to overthrow humanity's strongest kingdom and weaken Azeroth in preparation for the Burning Legion's invasion.

That meant Mal'Ganis would care whether Arthas lived or died, but not whether anyone accompanying him survived.

According to Thassarian, the South Camp held not three hundred mindless zombies, but three hundred undead warriors with considerable fighting power. In that case, even the fully armed, formidable Secret Council Knights would be of little use against undead who outnumbered them dozens to one and were difficult to kill.

Jaina would be in even greater danger. As an Archmage and their primary source of firepower, she would certainly draw Mal'Ganis's special attention. Rather than let them follow him into danger, he was better off going alone.

Although Falric and the others did not want the prince to risk his life, they could not disobey Arthas's orders. Jaina was different. She would never allow Arthas to do something that, to her, amounted to throwing his life away.

"No matter what you say, I won't let you go alone! Our best option right now is to wait here for Sir Uther's reinforcements." Jaina's lovely brows drew together. "You're the one who taught me not to act recklessly!"

"We should indeed wait for my teacher Uther's reinforcements, but I don't think that Dreadlord will wait very long." Arthas understood that if they failed to end Mal'Ganis's plot in Lordaeron this time, there was no telling where that loathsome demon would hide next.

With their current forces, holding Mal'Ganis back if he was determined to flee was all but impossible. The five Dreadlords sent to Azeroth were all among the finest of their kind, and Mal'Ganis might have been the strongest enemy Arthas had faced so far.

"Mait and Sally may still be alive. I can't stand by and watch the people of Lordaeron be tortured to death by a demon."

Jaina fell silent for several seconds, then spoke in a slightly hoarse voice. "Arthas."

"Jaina, trust me. I'll be all right. I'll make that demon repay everything he's done twice over."

The normally quick-witted, eloquent mage looked into Arthas's earnest, sincere eyes and, for a moment, could not think of anything to say that might stop him. She knew the prince would not act recklessly, yet she was still so terribly worried about the man she loved.

"All right, Arthas-but I'll only wait half an hour. If you aren't standing in front of me by then, I'll come looking for you immediately!"

This was Jaina's final concession. If Arthas could risk his life to save two ordinary people, then she could stake her own life on saving the man she loved.

"That will be enough, Jaina." Arthas sensed her resolve and gave the mage a solemn nod.

Having made his promise, Arthas swiftly mounted his horse and vanished down the road.

"Monster, let my daughter go!"

Bound atop an altar, Mait thrashed wildly, desperate to break free of the demon's restraints. Unfortunately, Mal'Ganis's magic was not something an ordinary man like him could dispel.

"Oh, clever doctor, I'm not going to hurt your precious daughter just yet." Mal'Ganis extended a finger and lightly traced the girl's cheek with his sharp nail. "See how gentle I am? I haven't even hurt her."

"What do you want?!" Mait screamed hysterically, wishing he could devour Mal'Ganis alive.

"Look at those eyes. I adore that expression on you humans. And your..." Mal'Ganis's enormous body appeared beside Mait like a ghost, his huge bat wings spreading wide. "Blood."

He plunged his right hand viciously into Mait's thigh. The doctor screamed as Mal'Ganis slowly withdrew his fingers and licked the blood from them, his other hand gripping Mait's head tightly. "Ah, look at your expression. So agonized, so pathetic, so... laughable!"

After releasing Mait, Mal'Ganis let his blood flow freely, gradually filling the magic circle on the altar beneath him. The evil blood magic was taking shape.

"Enjoy your final moments, human. Perhaps you'll even get to watch your prince kill your daughter with his own hands."

Mait's life was slipping away bit by bit. Weakly, he said, "Demon... His... Highness... the prince... will kill you... and avenge... me..."

"Oh? Will he? Too bad you'll never live to see that day."

Mal'Ganis let out a chilling cackle. Under the influence of the blood ritual's magic, little Sally's golden hair gradually turned white, her life force steadily eroded by the evil magic.

"Mal'Ganis! Come out and face my wrath!"

Dazzling Holy Light surged like a wave, reducing every undead blocking the gate to ash. Golden flames burned in Arthas's eyes as he swung the [Might of Menethil] with all his strength, its searing radiance driving away every shadow.

The undead warriors could not withstand even a single blow from Arthas. Mere contact with his radiance turned them to ash. Vast torrents of Holy Light coursed through the epic warhammer, and every swing sent out rippling golden halos.

"What is this power?"

Mal'Ganis's smile froze. Arthas's Holy Light was far stronger than he had anticipated. Even after destroying so many worlds, the Dreadlord had never seen light of such purity.

Concentrated golden flames enveloped Arthas's entire body as though they were solid. The [Might of Menethil] even cracked under the overwhelming power, but its fragments did not fall away. Instead, drawn together by the Holy Light, they formed a stable hammerhead.

The undead battle formation could do nothing to halt Arthas's advance. Like a god descended to earth, he closed the distance in the blink of an eye, his warhammer slamming toward Mal'Ganis with a fierce rush of wind.

The Dreadlord instinctively raised his arm to block. But before Holy Light of such purity, his fel-infused, strengthened flesh was like meat pressed against a red-hot iron plate. A piercing hiss rang out. Mal'Ganis beat his wings, transformed into a swarm of black bats, and vanished from the camp in an instant.

"Human prince, don't think this is over! Look at the girl beside you! Her fate is your future!" Mal'Ganis's furious voice rang out from above. "The bitter winds of Northrend will devour your soul! Your kingdom will fall!"

The swarm of bats formed from Mal'Ganis's dark magic swiftly disappeared into the sky. His abrupt flight stunned even Arthas for a moment. The Dreadlord simply chose to retreat? He didn't even try to provoke me, just lure me to Northrend?

His instinct was to ponder it, but Mait and Sally's condition left Arthas no time for further thought. He released Holy Light to form a hemispherical barrier that kept the undead soldiers from interfering, then stepped forward to examine Mait and Sally.

Sally seemed to be under the influence of some dark ritual that was eating away at her life force and transforming her soul into some evil monster. Fortunately, its effects had not yet taken deep hold, and Arthas suppressed them without much effort. Her hair, however, could no longer return to its original gold.

"Your... Highness..." Mait's face was pale, his lips purple. "Don't waste... your Holy Light... I've lost too much blood... healing spells... can't save... me... but please... save my... daughter..."

"Don't worry. Your daughter is safe now."

Mait had lost too much blood, and even part of his soul had been sacrificed in the ritual, leaving it incomplete. Sheer willpower alone kept him speaking, but he truly had little time left.

No matter how powerful his Holy Light was, Arthas could not heal such injuries. Even if he used the power of death to forcibly retain Mait's soul, all he would gain was a ghost with a fractured consciousness.

Both men knew what would happen next. Once Mait heard that his daughter was safe, he finally felt at ease. "Thank... you... Your Highness... I... can..."

Mait never finished his words. His breathing and heartbeat stopped, and his broken soul and body were finally freed from torment.

He had carried not only his love for his daughter, but also guilt over the more than three hundred people in the South Camp. If he had been more insistent when reporting the abnormalities to the Church, perhaps more of them might have survived.

A pocket watch slipped from the doctor's breast pocket. Arthas caught Mait's final keepsake, opened it, and saw a line of tiny engraved words.

"To my eternal love-Mait Whitemane." It was signed Mary Whitemane, and beneath the inscription another name had been engraved: Sally Whitemane.

Arthas stood in silence for a long time. At last, he closed the pocket watch and placed it in little Sally's hand.

May this ordinary father's soul rest peacefully in the eternal realm.