Icecrown Citadel (27)

"Is everything... over?" Arthas asked, his eyes filled with tears.

Terenas, in his spirit form, had an unreadable expression, but his voice was calm. "It's all over, my son. No throne lasts forever."

Arthas turned his gaze with difficulty. Another person was also watching him, but thankfully, there was no hatred in his eyes.

"Nathanos?" Arthas grabbed the Witherer's arm with one hand.

"It's over, Prince Highness." Nathanos supported Arthas's body and nodded to him. "No one will blame you."

The Prince gave a weak smile and said feebly, "Before my eyes... there is only... darkness."

The hand released Nathanos and remained motionless. Was this a victory? Nathanos helped Arthas close his eyes. He felt no joy in victory. Why was that?

Everyone had left, Icecrown Citadel was empty. Nathanos himself didn't know why he had come back here.

Step by step, he drew ever closer to the Frozen Throne.

The Lich King's throne remains in its original location, at the highest point of Icecrown Citadel. Nathanos tried it; sitting there, he truly could look down upon all living beings.

Arriving at the place where Arthas was killed, he picked up a fragment of Frostmourne, and incredibly, the runes on it still shone.

On the high platform before the throne lie the remains of those fallen Warrior. It is a great pity that these people cannot be resurrected, not even if Frostmourne is destroyed, for it hides a truth that must never be known to outsiders.

Nathanos walked straight to the Frozen Throne. Others sat on the throne. The outline of the Alliance shoulder armor was still visible on his left shoulder, and his body was engulfed in flames.

A new Lich King — Bolvar Fordragon —still slumbers, wearing Arthas's crown, his eyes closed, seemingly merging with the helmet.

When he awakens again, will he be like Arthas? Only time will tell.

"Is it all over?" Nathanos suddenly asked the person in the ice.

What was he doing here? He couldn't remember at all. Perhaps he had his own reasons for returning to the Frozen Throne, but those reasons had vanished.

"It's all meaningless!" he said, surprised that he had uttered those five words. Arthas had fallen, the Forsaken's vengeance was over, so what should he do next? What should the Forsaken do? Their very existence was for the purpose of avenging the Lich King. Now that their revenge was complete, the joy of achieving their goal was fleeting, but the bewilderment of losing their purpose was long-lasting, perhaps even permanent for the Forsaken.

Meryl is right: what will happen to the Forsaken after the Lich King is defeated? They will still be ostracized, and their surviving relatives will not accept them. Many, realizing this, might find a secluded place to bury themselves?

Nathanos shook his head. This foolish method couldn't possibly kill the Undead whose fates were twisted. They didn't breathe, nor sleep; lying on the ground waiting to die was as long as a seedling growing into a head of wheat. Their bodies would decay faster, and carrion worms would torment them. It was better to end their lives in a more lethal way.

Fear! Nathanos already knew why he was there: it was out of fear, because the Forsaken had to resort to horrific and cruel methods to end their lives. They were already dead, but those who remained in the state of the undead had to suffer to be freed.

Time will kill them too... Nathanos realized something, a problem he had long ignored, and he went mad.

He gritted his teeth and tossed Shadowmourne aside, the axe blade clanging against the flat platform. Then came his bone bow and quiver, and Sulfuras. Before he could finish, he also removed his black cloak, which billowed in the biting wind.

It was once whole, but now it is so dilapidated.

"No!" Nathanos roared and flung it away, its cloak torn by the cold wind, disappearing into the chaotic mist below the platform.

His shoulder armor was removed, followed by his breastplate. Underneath the breastplate was a green shirt, which he remembered was a gift from a Female Elf when they were deeply in love. At first, he refused to wear it, but a sweet look from her made him give in.

At this moment, the beautiful time couldn't stop Nathanos from doing what he wanted. He was no longer impatient with unbuttoning one button after another, but instead tore open the garment, exposing more of his upper body skin.

But that wasn't all. He was still covered up by bandages wrapped around his skin—arms, chest, and abdomen—all dark yellow bandages. They faintly smelled of herbs; Nathanos was trying his best to prevent his body from decaying naturally in this way.

Now, his upper body was completely naked. Desperate, he could no longer feel any cold, only the stinging pain of the wind against his skin.

His body! Nathanos stared at himself as if he were a monster, utterly repulsive. The Frostmourne wound on his abdomen hadn't disappeared despite the Rune Sword's breakage, but that wasn't the worst part. His body was riddled with cracks, soon to peel away. His skin was dry, wrinkled, and dehydrated, as fragile as parchment, a condition exacerbated by the heavy blood shed during his battle with Sindragosa. The glaring scars wouldn't heal, and festering sores grew around the wounds, looking gruesome...

... And his face. Nathanos had always hidden his face under his hood or in his high collar, hoping to conceal his identity in this way. However, he overlooked one thing: he only remembered what that face looked like at first, and now it was many years later.

He grabbed Sulfuras and saw his own reflection in the sword. Who was this? Nathanos was shocked; he could no longer see any trace of the Marius Family boy who loved to Rangers.

Is this what time has brought him? It's not just his enemies who want to destroy him, but the world itself? If the world rejects him, how can he survive? One day, this body will perish. And Nathanos sees only darkness before him; he has realized that once a person realizes their ultimate fate is destruction, they will only spend their remaining days in fear.

This victory was futile; the vision that had once inspired him and his people to fight for so many years ultimately brought only a cruel fate.

And this fate... Nathanos could not stop!