Inner Undead

The forest was filled with the sound of birdsong and the stirrings of small woodland creatures as the mid-morning sun filtered down through the towering trees above. Ashenvale was still beautiful, even if large swathes of it had been cleared by the orcs in their lumber camps.

Celessiel lay in the underbrush, her body pressed flat against dead leaves and loam. She had been lying there for almost an hour now, her position tilted upward slightly as she leaned against the small rise of earth that overlooked a clearing below. It afforded her an excellent view of the activities in the small clearing without others being able to observe her; the snow white of her hair would otherwise be a dead giveaway if she tried to approach for a closer look. Below the rise, an encampment spread out, dirty rotted tents arrayed around a series of work benches covered with vials, test tubes, and other alchemical supplies. A Forsaken Apothecary encampment.

It had originally been Celessiel's intent to scout a few small areas within the forest to find weaknesses in the Kaldorei Sentinel's line, allowing the small group that comprised the Sigil of the Rising Dawn to begin the next phase of their plan. One of the areas that Celessiel had been particularly interested in exploring was the barrow dens used by the Night Elves when their druids went into the emerald dream. Unfortunately it appeared that the Forsaken had arrived ahead of her, and what was worse, they appeared to be doing things to the spirits of the druids that had slumbered in the barrow den.

They were making undead somehow.

Celessiel's face was set in a grimmace. The Forsaken might be allied with the Sin'dorei, but that didn't mean she had to approve of what they were or the methods they employed in battle. She'd already seen them pelting their own forces with flaming arrows and catapult fire in her patrols in Northrend. She'd learned to deal with them warily even in the best of circumstances. Watching them torment the spirits of the dead hardly classified as 'good' circumstances in her mind.

Celessiel's thoughts were interrupted as a hand grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back. A rusty blade, still razor sharp by the look of it, was pressed against her throat and a hissing voice whispered in her ear, "What lovely thing have we here?"

Judging by the stench of the person's breath and the smell emanating from them, Celessiel knew immediately that she was dealing with one or more Forsaken. Her fears were confirmed as a second voice answered, "Looks like one of them Night Elves, but she's too small. Her color's wrong as well."

The first voice replied, close behind her, "Might be, but holding her here I think that there's another answer." Hands ran along her body, running down the curves of her armor in an uncomfortable fashion. Celessiel stiffened even as she heard the rasp of her runeblades being taken from her sheaths. The blade was then removed from her throat and she was roughly spun around and pushed back against the rise. Two Forsaken guards stood, watching her.

"Ah I was right," the first one said. "Look at her eyes. She's one of us to be sure. What are you doing here lovely, and why do you spy on our encampment? Perhaps you should come down there and we'll have a better look at you and a chat."

Celessiel shivered and replied, "I'm not one of your people, but I'm a fighter for the Horde. My business is my own and I meant your encampment no harm."

"She's got a mouth on her Roland," the second Forsaken said. "And what's she mean by saying she's not one of us?"

The first one, Roland sneered at Celessiel, "Too good to admit what you are hmm? I'm so sorry that we offend you lovely. Not all of us can look so pretty now, can we?" The last was said with a sneer. "Perhaps some touch of the plague will improve your outlook on your own people?"

"I've already told you I'm not.." Celessiel began. Her words were cut short as the one named Roland backhanded her across the face.

"Hold your stupid tongue, or I'll cut it out," he hissed. "You think you're so much better than us, don't you? A pretty little elf-thing, filled with darkness but good enough to be one of the living? You're JUST like us. And I'll make sure you remember it everytime you look at yourself. Can't let you go around thinking that just because your flesh isn't rotted you're our better. WE are the true power, as the living will one day come to learn."

Celessiel blinked back tears, her face stinging from the blow to her face. Her eyes widened in surprise at the bile in the other's words. "I didn't mean to say.." This time a mailed fist to her stomach silenced her. It didn't hurt as much since she was wearing plate armor, but the impact drove the breath from her in an <oof>.</oof>

"High time we cut out that tongue for sure," Roland spat. He slapped Celessiel again, rocking her head sideways. It was the last straw.

Scourgelight blased in Celessiel's eyes as her anger overcame her normally peaceful nature. The two Forsaken sneered as she straightened, holding her weapons in an almost mocking way, daring her to act.

"Ohhhh, the lovely's got some fight in her," the unnamed Forsaken said with a grin. "Let's cut her a bit shall we?" Roland nodded and smiled at the comment.

Celessiel's hands shot forward and black magic hurtled from her palms. Two flailing ropes of dark energy curled around her runeblades and yanked them from the Forsaken's hands. They flew back through the air and the Quel'dorei caught them in mid-flight, instantly bringing them up to guard herself. The two Forsaken spat curses and flew at her, only to be met by a furious wall of flying steel as she parried, smacking their blows aside. The death knight's face was twisted in pure rage as she fought, her blades a blur of discolored blue light as the runes blazed on them.

Slowly, foot by foot, the two Forsaken were forced back away from Celessiel's display of battle prowess. As they gave ground, the sneers on their faces became first concern, and then outright alarm as they realized the enraged death knight was far more skilled than she had appeared. Roland was the first to be blooded, a narrow cut on his face that would have been much more severe if he hadn't thrown himself backwards.

"The bitch is going to kill us! We need to get help!" Roland shouted. The other Forsaken nodded grimly and stepped back, bringing a twisted horn to his lips and blowing it. The alarm rang through the forest, echoing off trees in an eerie fashion. The sound brought Celessiel to her senses and she realized where she was and what she was doing.

I'm about to kill my own allies, all because I can't control myself.

The thought was sobering, and she faltered in her step, giving the two Forsaken time to regroup together, blades raised defiantly. These are not my enemies. They may be cruel, foul creatures but they are allied with the Horde. I'm supposed to be fighting WITH them.

Celessiel barked out a word in the language of death and instantly the small rise where the three fought was covered in feet of white snow. The two Forsaken were temporarily frozen, unable to advance on Celessiel. She looked at them for a moment in despair as she considered how close she'd come to killing them.

Then she turned and ran.

It was hard to say how long she ran, or how deep into the forest she went. Celessiel ran not to escape the Forsaken, but rather to escape the act she had almost committed. She ran from herself more than anything else. With the sounds of pursuit distant, she knew she could afford to slow her pace, but something inside her made her want to keep going on forever.

Eventually she burst through the edge of the forest overlooking a large lake, deep in the heart of Ashenvale. The beautiful, lifegiving water made her slow to a halt. She looked over the majestic scene, drinking in the life she saw, trying to use it to cleanse herself of the turmoil she still felt. Finally, she hopped off the small outcropping, falling a few feet towards the water below.

Her cursed body froze the water before she could plunge into it. Unheated water could never touch her form, and she simply stood on a patch of ice floating in the lake. The final reminder of who she was crashed over the serenity she had only just begun to regain, and she lay down on the ice, weeping bitterly.

Maybe I am just like them, as they said. They think my form so much more pleasing than theirs, but in that they were wrong. I am as much as monster as they are, as much a hideous thing. No matter what I do, that will never change. I will never change.

It would be several hours before Celessiel regained her composure. She sat on the lakeshore well into the night, watching the stars as they came out one by one. Their distant blue glow was echoed by the glowing orbs of her eyes. In time she would gain the resolve to get up and begin her mission anew, but for that evening at least, the beauty of the night, of the forest around her, was the balm her soul needed to continue existing for just one more day. A day that could be used serving her people, and undoing the work of those who created things like her.