The great battle had entered its final stages. The Gates of Terror: Korialstrasz, which had once stretched between the Misery Highlands and the Stitching Grounds, had long since been reduced beyond recognition.
The towering walls had collapsed, and craters pockmarked the ground everywhere. The once-arrogant undead Scourge had vanished without a trace.
When Patrick's Starfall, Vashj's lightning tornado, and Tirion Fordring's great Judgement were unleashed together, the Vrykul army had been wiped out in its entirety. The Lich King was now a cornered beast, with no reinforcements left to come to his rescue.
King Ymiron, Anub'arak, Ygvar the Mistcaller, Ojul the Chosen, and all the other Scourge commanders had fallen in battle. All that remained was to storm Icecrown Citadel, and the Scourge's downfall would be within sight.
"We... won..."
"Victory is ours!!"
"For Lordaeron."
"Your Majesty Anasterian, can you see this?" Salorian Dawnseeker looked up at the sky, as though paying tribute to the old king in his heart.
"Father..." Kael'thas, too, was lost in remembrance. A debt of blood had to be repaid in blood.
"Ner'zhul, it's time to pay your debts." Kargath Bladefist roared as he pulled the blade on his fist out of a Vrykul corpse.
After the great battle, they would press their momentum, charge straight into the Court of Bones, wipe out the Dark Cathedral and Malykriss: The Vile Hold, and surround the Lich King inside Icecrown Citadel.
"Advance..."
Tirion Fordring led the way, and a sharp light blazed in Illidan's eyes as the armies streamed through. The Gates of Terror had originally had only three entrances, but now its walls had been blasted away. Though the ground was riddled with craters, the armies had little trouble marching straight in.
As long as they could besiege Icecrown Citadel, the Northern Expeditionary Force's entire supply