The Oath

The death gate slowly closed, the inky blackness of its edges fading until it collapsed on itself, taking Ceriseth away and back to Acherus. Likewise, the comm had fallen silent as Daera began her duties for the evening. Beckyann sat atop a tumbled pile of masonry stones, staring off into the distance and considering all that had happened that evening.

I have friends.

How was it possible? What did it mean? Not an hour ago Beckyann had been in a ruined, burned out Scourge torture chamber, lying atop the soot-covered remains of the table where she'd died, prepared to lay there until she could find a way to simply fade away, to cease to exist. And then Ceri had come and pulled her back from the edge.

She'd told the other Knight everything then. Everything about who she was, about her eternal shame and dishonor that haunted her in this hellish hereafter. A hereafter that she rightfully deserved. It was almost on the very spot that she now sat where she had earned the punishment that was undeath. Here, in the small village of Northdale, ruined and destroyed so many years before.

In all of the years since I passed away, never once have I embraced someone and felt anything. And yet, in this place, I did so with Ceri after sharing that. It is here where I had my last embrace in life, when I told Frederick about what I'd done. It was the last time he ever held me while I drew breath. The irony that I discovered what friendship is anew here is not lost on me.

And it was not just the Sergeant either. Despite what Daera had done, Beckyann found herself comforted by the way the other woman spoke to her regularly. Even after being dragged about on that shopping trip that was as hellish to Daera as sitting in the ruins of Northdale was to Beckyann. It was as if the two had tested one another, dancing along the edge of animosity before deciding that each was worthy of the loyalty that their shared condition would otherwise force upon them.

I even went so far as to buy her a gift. A GIFT of all things! Who was the last person I purchased a gift for? Frederick most certainly. How many years ago was that? When did these other Knights slip beneath the parapets that protect my spirit? Are they honored guests, or foes that seek to destroy my fortress from within? It is so hard to understand.

And yet it wasn't really. Ceri knew everything that Beckyann had done, and had practically forgiven her and told her that it was something she could atone for. Daera had ignored Beckyann's fit in Brill and let it pass, as a true friend might. If they meant her harm, they both had had the opportunity to take full advantage either within the Unit itself or personally. They were actually friends.

But is it allowed? Am I allowed to have any small shred of positivity when I am serving a punishment? It is hard to fathom. One thing is quite clear though; if not for Ceri this evening, I would have reneged on my obligations to see this through to the end. She helped me stay here. I have never regretted being what I am until this evening, and after that conversation I have never been more determined to remain what I am. I owe the people who once called this place home that much.

Beckyann sighed, rising from the rubble and turning towards the burned out building behind her. In that place, her patients, her experiments had died painful deaths. The least she could do is assure them that she would never again consider surrendering. Her face drawn in a grim line, she marched towards the ruins, stepping on blackened timbers and fire-scorched stones to stand in the outline of what was once a two-story dwelling.

Slowly, almost with ritual care, Beckyann reached up and removed the brooch that pinned her cloak on. It was old and worn, the metal scratched here and there. Upon it was the stylized 'L' of Lordaeron; a little something that Beckyann had found in her tomb hunting and decided to keep in remembrance. With an air of reverence, she knelt down, placing the little brooch in the center of the ruins, the metal glittering brightly amongst the blackened floorboards.

“I know that you cannot hear me now,” Beckyann murmured lightly, “But know that I will never stop. I will never surrender. I will see this through to the end, because I understand my obligation to you most honored dead. I can never atone for what happened here. I can never apologize enough for the suffering you experienced, the suffering you may still experience. And yet I am more sorry about this than I can possibly explain. Rest peacefully, knowing that I will pay for what I have done until the titans return to this world if need be.”

Her prayer, no her oath complete, Beckyann rose and looked down on the emblem one last time. With a resigned nod she turned, striding out of that ruined place quickly. The Plaguewood called to her again, not to surrender now, but as a means of soothing herself. She would slay wandering Scourge until her next duty shift began.

Once she was gone, the ruins behind her began to stir. The little brooch she had planted in the ruins glittered, a faint trace of Light shining from it. Slowly, ghostly eyes formed, studying the emblem from a distance. Ghostly hands reached out, hesitantly approaching what the death knight had left behind.

What Beckyann could never know, what she could never part the tides of time to see, was that the people who had died in that building had not perished from the plague she had accidentally infected them with. They had not risen as Scourge to march on their fellow countrymen. No, instead the men, women, and children who had been too weak to walk had died within the building itself as it burned down. As fires raged around them, unable to flee, they had suffered indescribable agony in their last minutes of life.

They had died from the fire that Frederick's men had set at his orders.

Ghostly hands caressed the brooch and the Light flared brightly. With a sigh, a spirit faded into the Light and was gone, eternal peace granted at last. Slowly the others reached out, one by one, each of the victims who had died in that place. As spirits melded with the Light, agony faded, peace spread over the ruins and the dead finally went to their well earned rest.

In her self-inflicted atonement, Beckyann would never know that she had given the ghosts of her past rest at last.