Handwriting

They looked ready to die.

Dath'Remar removed his hood and saw an Elf soldier nearby break free of the skeleton Warrior surrounding him and attempt to attack Dath'Remar. Dath'Remar raised his hand and chanted a spell, and the overzealous fellow collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony. He knew that soon the other Elf would do the same, but things rarely go as planned.

Not long after the battle began, the Elf Charge sounded again— the Farstrider had arrived! If it weren't for their intervention, Dath'Remar was certain that the first wave of attacking Elf would have been wiped out long ago.

The attack had barely begun when Vareesa and her soldiers suddenly arrived. The battle spread beyond the spire, and the Ranger fought valiantly... though for Dath'Remar, it was merely a matter of postponing their fate.

Another Ranger, a woman, gained the upper hand in the battle. Dath'Remar knew her intimately, and before she could notice him, he flicked his finger outward, channeling shadow magic into her fragile body. She was thrown upward, crashing into the spiraling stairs; she must have been in considerable pain.

Sylvanas gritted her teeth and stood up, her eyes spotting the one who had ambushed her. "Dath'Remar!" The Female Elf suddenly felt a surge of power and charged forward, but a swarm of cave spiders blocked her way.

Dath'Remar felt a sense of satisfaction watching Sylvanas besieged and unable to break free. If Sylvanas were to die in battle, he would surely offer her body to the Lich King.

The owner must be very satisfied with this gift.

Just then, a shadowy figure in Dath'Remar — Scourge —transmitted to him the scene outside. Many Quel'Thalas soldiers, even war golems, and one Elf, an elf, was charging straight into Dalsom. It was the Regent himself...

"Alleria!" Dath'Remar shouted to her as the Regent rushed into the hall.

"Long time no see, Drahir," Alleria replied sarcastically. The Female Elf scrutinized the traitor she hated so much. The Undead, though his skin was no longer radiant, still retained a strong fondness for ornate clothing. However, his silk robes could hardly conceal the emaciated corpse beneath—practically nothing but bones. Dath'Remar's hair was dry, the color of yellowed parchment. His eyes were white, and his resurrected body was deformed and twisted.

"I have come here for your head; I need it to appease the souls of the dead," Alleria declared.

Her conscience wouldn't allow her to stand by and watch Sylvanas commit suicide. The Regent had Vareesa gather the Ranger and rush to the battlefield in time... Now Alleria raised her hand to draw an arrow, her eyes scanning her surroundings rapidly. A female Ranger was fighting a desperate battle with the Undead, surrounded by corpses.

She could handle it herself. Alleria thought to herself, neither calling out to attract her attention nor offering any help to Sylvanas. Her sister wanted to kill Dath'Remar with her own hands, and so did she; in fact... she longed to do so even more Sylvanas.

In that case, Alleria can now focus on dealing with this Undead, this the Betrayer: Dath'Remar.

"Looks like all of Master's enemies have arrived. Very well. Whatever. What else can you do but die?" Dath'Remar's right hand shot out, and a giant ball of flame flew out, ready to engulf Alleria.

Sylvanas, who had gained the upper hand in the battle against the Undead, caught a glimpse of Alleria about to be engulfed by flames out of the corner of his eye. He rushed over, grabbed Alleria tightly, and pushed her aside.

The two sisters exchanged a glance. "This traitor is my prey!" Sylvanas shouted. She didn't understand why Alleria was there; this matter had nothing to do with her. But Sylvanas wouldn't argue with her sister here. If Alleria was also there to settle scores with Dath'Remar, she certainly wouldn't let the other woman beat her to it.

The two most influential members of the Windrunner family looked at Drahir simultaneously.

Dath'Remar's smile vanished.

Sylvanas charged at him with lightning speed, the blade in her hand whistling as it sliced through the air.

Dath'Remar's minions did not cease their attacks, but they could not stop Sylvanas, falling like wheat before the enraged Female Elf. He could only continuously summon new Undead or have other servants aid him.

Despite Sylvanas's assertion that Dath'Remar should be punished by her, Alleria, whether out of personal grudges or her own status, would not let go of any opportunity to eliminate Dath'Remar.

Alleria nocked an arrow and drew her bow. Dath'Remar was still thinking about what spell to cast next, but he hadn't even had time to chant the incantation. The Regent released his grip, and despite people occasionally waving in front of Dath'Remar, the arrow was shot with perfect accuracy, piercing deeply into the traitorous mage's forehead.

Dath'Remar knelt on one knee, and his form immediately began to dissipate. The mage let out a final wail, then his body completely turned into white smoke and vanished in an instant. The arrow, however, remained, falling to the ground with a "thud."

Sylvanas's ears twitched. She looked towards where Dath'Remar had just been, her expression slowly turning somber. This was what she was supposed to be doing.

"I was too slow again," she said, turning back to Alleria.

"As always." The Regent picked up her bow and arrow, but after a moment's thought, she didn't put the arrow back in its quiver; it was stained with the traitor's blood, which disgusted her. "You have your reasons for eliminating Dath'Remar, and so do I."

"Leave your explanation to Rommath and the other nobles," Sylvanas said dismissively, but a smile quickly spread across her face. "However, I'm curious to know if your purpose in killing Dath'Remar was the same as mine?" Sylvanas was eager to see how Alleria would react to her question, especially the trap hidden in her words.

The Regent seemed not to hear this, only shouting for everyone to retreat, that Scourge reinforcements would arrive soon, and that this place was no place to linger. More concerned with her people than anything else, she didn't even notice the letter Sylvanas had hidden. It was left behind after Dath'Remar's disappearance; clearly, the traitor's belongings wouldn't have vanished with him.

A few days later, on the Thalassian Pass, Sylvanas, cloaked, traversed this place she hadn't set foot in for a long time. The Female Elf back every five steps, having lost count of how many times she'd made sure she wasn't being followed. Alleria was watching her closely, or rather, monitoring her. Sylvanas had gone to great lengths to shake off her sister's spies, and her destination was the Plaguelands.

Dath'Remar's letter was incomplete; it only mentioned that an Elf outpost in the Plaguelands had been ambushed. Sylvanas remembered the location, not far from the Thalassian Pass, where Hoxbyr, the Ranger- King, was stationed. But she wasn't there to investigate whether her brethren were still alive; her purpose was to retrieve something—if it even existed.

The battle of the Forsaken is over.

Razor Ridge has always been considered a forbidden area by the Tauren, not only because it is inhabited by Wildkin, but also because there are no other plants besides thorns, and even the entire black thorn forest may be unnatural life.

This cannot be explained by common sense as to why thorns are black, or why they can grow as tall as mountains, even blocking out the sky. But anyone with a little curiosity who gets closer will discover that these thorns are not plants, but a stone-like substance that is not only hard but also dangerous.

Nathanos brushed off the nearest thorn bush. Razor Ridge was a mess, but the stones remained unharmed.

"Interesting," he said, hearing someone approaching behind him. Belmont commanded several Forsaken, who carried a cone-shaped crystal box before their leader. Belmont bowed and said, "Master, what should we do with this?"

Before Nathanos could react, Rassuvios jumped out, "It should be destroyed!" With that, the Forsaken instructor raised his sword, ready to split the box in two.

"Stop!"

Sulfuras blocked Rassuvios's blade. The instructor looked at Nathanos in confusion and asked, "You're going to stop me? This Lich has injured many of our Warrior, and he even knows about the Forsaken. We can't let him live!" Rassuvios's words were supported by many people present, but Nathanos did not back down.

"What's the point of killing a Lich?" Nathanos glanced sideways at Amnennar's life-saving casket. The Frost King's fate was now entirely in the hands of the Forsaken. "The Lich King still has millions of Lich under his command. The Scourge won't care about such a loss. On the contrary, Amnennar was one of the original ally of the Lich King, and he must know a lot of secrets about the Scourge. This is very advantageous to us."

"He won't tell," Rassuvios whispered.

"The Lich's strength comes from his casket, but so does his weakness."

The Witherer's meaning was clear: although the Forsaken and the Scourge were sworn enemies, upon reflection, his words made perfect sense. Gradually, the Forsaken discussing amongst themselves, quieted down. They were waiting, not for Amnennar's ultimate fate, but for Rassuvios's attitude.

The instructor is still locked in a stalemate with Nathanos. What will he do? Will he continue to question him, or will he challenge Nathanos and seize power over the Forsaken by force?

"You're absolutely right!" Rassuvios's grip loosened, and he sheathed his sword, saluting Nathanos in apology. His gesture was a human salute; he still retained many of the habits of the living.

"I apologize to you for my offense."

"I won't blame you. I understand your anger towards the Scourge. Just like I promised the others, one day I will lead you to defeat the Lich King."

"For the Forsaken!" Nathanos shouted, receiving cheers from everyone present. Clearing the battlefield would take time, but soon Razor Ridge would become the Forsaken's new stronghold. It held immense strategic value and was crucial for the Forsaken's future operations.

"Lord of the Witherer!" a guard rushed over. Nathanos remembered him; before launching the attack, he had assigned a group of scouts to guard all the passages leading to Razor Ridge, and this scout was one of them. His bluff made Nathanos worry that they had been discovered.

"What's wrong?"

"You have to go see!" he shouted, bowing deeply before even stopping. "Two guys have come!"

"Who's here, soldier?" Nathanos frowned. He tried to glean something from the scout's expression. The man seemed flustered, his face showing fear mixed with respect, even awe. Most Forsaken would display this expression when they saw him, but Nathanos felt the scout's expression wasn't because of him. There must be another reason.

"An Undead, but not one of ours, sir! And..." The sentry almost shouted, but stammered out the rest of his words.

"What else..." Nathanos stared at the sentry, forcing him to speak with his eyes.

"There's another dragon!"

Dragon?

Seeing the question on the leader's face, the scout added, "That's what the Undead said, but what I saw was a High Elf."

"You did a good job." The Witherer nodded. He reacted quickly, not wasting time thinking about how to deal with the sudden situation. Instead, he gave the order directly, "Hide the Life-Protecting Box. Also, have everyone hide. The Dark Ranger should take ambush positions. If the visitors are hostile... Razor Ridge doesn't mind losing a few more people today."

Eastern Plaguelands

"He's... alive!" Sylvanas trembled, managing to utter the words of shock. The writing on the walls of the Elf hut, like the Sunwell of old, drew her attention, captivated her, and instantly enslaved her.

"The Witherer? What a self-pitying name." Sylvanas touched the slightly distorted blood-red lettering. She thought that Nathanos must have been furious when he wrote those words. He must have thought of Alleria's heartlessness, and of those who had also participated in the siege of him. So he must have been careless with his handwriting, making it recognizable to those who knew him.

Of course, the most important point is that Nathanos's bow and arrows have disappeared. Alleria only brought back Nathanos's sword, Quel'delar, while his bow and arrows were taken by Hoxbyr.

"It must be him, he's still alive!" Sylvanas laughed, but the smile quickly vanished as she reminded herself to stay calm. It wasn't entirely certain, but hope had been ignited in the Female Elf's heart. At the same time, another question came to mind.

"We can't let anyone else find out about this." Sylvanas drew her dagger and obfuscated Nathanos's message. To be safe, she set fire to the stronghold, burning everything in the flames.

Faced with the dazzling flames, Sylvanas made up her mind: this time, she would not be slower than Alleria.