Icecrown Citadel (XXIX)

"Preserve my body for countless years?" The Witherer glared at Agatha. "You think I want this body? Do you think I would allow your dark magic to enter my body?"

"This is not a bondage, the Witherer," Agatha said. "It's more like a gift. As long as we live, you will live too. You will no longer have to worry about the damage time does to you; any wounds from battle will heal..."

After a moment's thought, Nathanos replied, "If that's the case, then I don't need your help."

"Why?" Agatha's astonishment was fully expressed in her tone. The reason the Witherer had been driven to the brink of collapse from beginning to end was that he realized his body was already in a terrible state. "Don't you care about your body decaying?"

"Of course I care, but I can be sure how long my body can hold up. Things might get worse in a few years, but that's all foreseeable. But if you're in charge of the process, then I can't guarantee that something unexpected won't happen."

Agatha understood the meaning behind Nathanos's words. Her black wings flew towards the platform, finally landing before the Witherer. The Valkyr were truly towering; even now, kneeling before Nathanos, Agatha could look the Forsaken's master in the eye.

"The Valkyr covenant is sacred, and we will never betray it."

"What if you die?" Nathanos noticed Agatha's lips droop slightly. The Valkyr fell silent, having already acknowledged Nathanos's concerns. If all the Valkyr under the master's command were to perish, all the magic bestowed upon the master would become ineffective, and might even have a negative effect.

"Your concerns are quite valid." Agatha rose, turned, and nodded to her sisters, drawing the remaining Valkyr together. "We respect your choice, the Witherer. But I believe we can offer you more than just preventing your body from decaying."

"Yes." Nathanos drawled out the word, a warning in itself. He knew, of course, what the Valkyr were best at, and the corpses around them lay there silently.

"Don't touch the bodies here," he said, which immediately drew a question from Agatha.

"I think they should be able to strengthen the power of the Forsaken."

"No one wants to be Forsaken." Nathanos knelt before the body of a Night Elf, who was curled up, hoping for a bit of warmth in the bitter cold.

"I have personally experienced the desolate feeling of a soul being ripped back into the body by madness. I don't want anyone else to go through that." Nathanos turned to look at Agatha, as if sighing. "Let their souls rest in peace, if you wish to receive my protection."

"You agree to our contract?" Agatha asked excitedly, as Nathanos began to put on the clothes he had thrown on the ground, except for the missing cloak.

The bone bow and Sulfuras felt incredibly familiar to the touch, the quiver on his back was reassuring, and under the hood, he was still the Witherer, not Nathanos Marius.

And then Shadowmourne... Nathanos stared at the weapon, lost in thought, forgetting to answer Agatha's question.

It has completed its mission, and its continued existence will only make people wary of its power, not to mention that there are still a thousand souls trapped within it.

Nathanos picked up Shadowmourne. He could feel the weapon trembling before the Forsaken's enemies, or he could bestow it as a reward upon the Forsaken's valiant warriors, or keep it by his side. Either way, it would benefit the Forsaken, but Nathanos did not want to become a second Arthas in the eyes of the world.

He did not gain his place in this world by relying on powerful artifacts.

"Valkyr!" Nathanos called out. Then they came, seven Valkyr surrounding the Witherer, awaiting his command. "Give me your strength, and help me destroy this weapon."

Three months have passed, and afterwards I find it hard to believe. Was the Lich King really destroyed? No, it was just a different person.

Looking back many years, the history of the Forsaken unfolded in Azeroth. We were founded in the shadows, in an age of contradiction between past and present, where many living still regard the Undead as the embodiment of death. Undoubtedly, humanity hates us, and the Alliance and the Horde still harbor animosity towards us. But perhaps one day, this history I have recorded will be read by all races, and perhaps they will understand our misfortune a little, and feel even a tiny bit of compassion for us.

During this time, celebrations for the victory over the Lich King continued to be held from time to time around the world. This fervor did not reach the hearts of the Forsaken, and many fell into confusion. Not long ago, Veronalara even submitted her resignation to me. She said she needed to be alone. I'm not sure if she wanted to find a place to end her life, but I won't restrict her; it's her freedom.

Traveling across the Forsaken territories around the world was a long journey, and I also met with spies who gathered intelligence for the Forsaken. Taresa impressed me the most; she was alive and well and asked me if the recent riots in Westfall were related to me.

Having too many smart people under your command can sometimes be a bad thing.

Meryl returned, and the first thing he did upon his return was to ask me what the Forsaken's future goals were, emphasizing the seriousness of the issue and demanding an immediate decision.

The mage can be quite outspoken at times, and may seem to be condescending in my presence, but we both know that time is meaningless to us. One thing I admire about Meryl is that he always dares to say what others only dare to think but not to say; after all, there are many who worry about the future of the Forsaken.

To his disappointment, I didn't answer him. I believe he won't stop asking, and when he comes to me next time, I will say...

"Owner!"

Nathanos stopped writing in his diary and looked up at Belmont. "What's wrong?"

"There's news, from Northrend."

Nathanos disliked Northrend, although he still sent some spies to monitor the area, as he couldn't completely trust the Scourge.

Could it be the Lich King?

"What news?" Nathanos asked calmly.

"My lord," Belmont hesitated for a moment, then said firmly, "It's Dragonblight. Our spies in Dragonblight spotted a dark purple dragon."

A dark purple dragon? Nathanos lost all interest in writing. "How is Onyxia?"

"She has been imprisoned in Maraudon."

"Bring her to see me."