Icecrown Citadel.
An ancient-looking mirror stood in a hall.
It was a banshee's magic mirror.
Rhode's image appeared in the Magic Mirror. He was floating in the air, receiving the soldiers' cheers.
Several people stood before the Magic Mirror, staring at it with grave expressions.
After a long silence...
"Gadd, what do you think?" a female voice finally asked.
"What do I think? I'm looking at the mirror, obviously!" Gadd was clearly in a foul mood and turned around with a roar.
This middle-aged man, dressed entirely in black robes with a skull-shaped staff strapped to his back, was none other than Darkmaster Gandling.
He had originally been assigned to take up a position at Scholomance, but after the academy was destroyed, he had no choice but to remain in Icecrown Citadel.
Alas, he could have gone off to rule his own little domain, but now he was stuck here as an underling. Naturally, he was unhappy about it.
In Icecrown Citadel, above him was the Lich King, around him were all sorts of undead lords, liches, and death knights, and below him were... a heap of skeletons. There was no fun in it at all.
In Lordaeron, however, he could have enjoyed an easy life as a headmaster, teaching a few classes when he had work and flirting with female students when he did not. What a wonderful life that would have been.
And that would only have been the beginning.
Once the Cult of the Damned spread throughout the human kingdoms, his academy could open branch campuses, which could open further branches, branching on and on without end. Then he could reach the pinnacle of his life...
But it had all ended before it even began.
All because of this Rhode in the mirror!
And now the man