Divine Intervention

"Many will tell you that the Light is a force that can be guided, controlled, or directed. They may tell you that if you are unable to channel it in a certain way, this speaks towards a lack of faith or some other fault in your character. This cannot be further from the truth, for the Light loves all of us equally. When the Light chooses to manifest itself, it is a special blessing and is not one that can simply be called down at will. The Light chooses to intervene when and where it is most needed, and we are but its instrument, its vessel for it to manifest its will. Once, and only once, I was the recipient of a most miraculous blessing; a rare gift that few are given. This does not make me more 'powerful' in the Light or more blessed, it simply means that I was in the right place at the right time to best aid its cause. That I was able to do so makes me feel humbled, for I am as unworthy a vessel as any other."
~An excerpt from the memoirs of Britanielle 'Britany' Dawnblaze, Paladin of the Argent Crusade.

*Several years ago. Icecrown campaign. An ambush at an Argent Crusade camp.*

Pain like Britany had never experienced flowed through her body, blackening the edges of her vision as she lay on the cold, frozen ground. The gray sky above her drove snow down upon her and the others who fought on the plains, the flakes sticking to the bare flesh of her face. It was not something she paid much attention to however. Instead, her sole focus as her vision began to fade was the arrow protruding from her chest, the bloody black shaft pointing up towards the sky above.

A shadow loomed over her, the figure fuzzy even from four feet away as the loss of blood and shock of what was likely a mortal wound made it difficult for Britany to focus. The figure leaned down over her, Frederick's human face appearing above her and shouting something, her name perhaps? His voice, though loud, seemed like it was a thousand miles away, lost in the swirling echoes of the battle against the Scourge that raged around them.

She tried to respond, to say something, anything to him to ease his pain at what would likely be her passing. Instead the only thing that happened was that blood gurgled up from her lungs, flowing out of her mouth and down her chin and nearly choking her. She sputtered and coughed, the action sending a wave of unbelievable agony through her from the wound she'd received. The arrow had struck her in the left breast, and although it must not have pierced her heart when it penetrated her armor, it most certainly had hit something important judging by the amount of blood. Her time was short now indeed.

Frederick leaned closer, trying to wipe the blood away from her mouth, his face ashen with shock both at the sudden ambush and at her grievous injury. His mouth was set in a grim line, and she could see the tale of her fate in his eyes. With a start he looked up in surprise at something she could not see, and he rose suddenly, his sword coming up to parry a blow from a runesword that would have crushed his skull.

He stumbled out of her ever-narrowing field of view, the bulky form of an armored troll death knight swiftly following, the two locked in mortal combat. Britany took another shallow breath, careful not to set off a coughing fit that would likely be her last. Above her she saw a point of light in her vision, and knew it was not really there, that she was seeing the end of her days.

The soft light grew brighter, blotting out her view of reality for a moment. She could almost hear it whispering to her, comforting her. She could hear the muted whispering of her husband, her children in its glimmering shine. For a moment she felt their love, she felt peace, and then a deep, terrible sadness set into her.

In that moment she came to know from the whispering light that she could make a grim choice. She could surrender to her pain, to the wound and go on into that light and rest forever, or she could endure the most unbearable suffering she had ever experienced to serve the Light one more time.

She was tempted to just let go; she would not be judged for being unable to continue on, she knew this. The Light was love, was peace. Her vision briefly faded in and out, and distantly she saw Frederick stumble over uneven terrain, the death knight looming up over him as he fell. In that moment, she knew the Light's will and made her choice.

With her last remaining vestiges of strength, Britany reached down, grasping the handle of her morning star and dragging it up so the end of it was near her face. The leather loop that was on the end of the handle draped over her, and she opened her mouth, biting into it. She released the morning star, her teeth firm on the leather strap as she called forth the Light within her. One of her hands glowed brightly as her other grasped the shaft of the arrow. She braced herself for what was to come, for what she had to do to see the Light's will done.

She tore the arrow free.

Her gurgling scream was loud, floating out into the general mayhem of the battle and joining other cries of victory and defeat. Her teeth bit through the strap, and her eyes saw nothing but blackness for a moment. Blood spurted from her wound, the arterial pressure high enough to make it jump out of her in pulses. One pulse, two pulses, she knew the third would be her last as she pressed her glowing hand to her chest. The spell, a sacred laying on of hands, was the most powerful a paladin could cast; one that required intense focus and could be used only rarely and at great cost to the paladin using it. The Holy Light flowed into her body, instantly snapping the wound closed and stopping the flow of blood.

For a moment, Britany lay in a daze, the echoes of the horrific pain and very real dull throbbing ache almost enough to render her unconscious once more. The only thing that kept her going was the knowledge that she had suffered far worse in the past; no physical pain could compare to the day she had seen her husband and children slain during the Scourge invasion. With this driving force in her mind, she rolled over and vomited up blood onto the frozen ground.

Slowly she rose, her hand grabbing the handle of her morning star. The world spun crazily around her, sounds coming and going and her eyesight still gray around the edges. She stumbled forwards, towards where the troll death knight was mockingly striking the ground around Frederick, toying with its prey before it would deliver the final blow. Its runesword came up, and Britany pushed herself forward.

She never saw the golden wings that flowed from her back as she advanced. She could not see the Light that glowed in her eyes and streamed into the air around her. She saw only Frederick laying on the ground, and knew with an intensity that came from her faith itself that her sole purpose was to save his life. That she was the Light's vessel in this most important task.

The troll never saw her coming. Never saw as she used the last of her fading strength to swing her morning star. The cobalt ball on the end of the weapon smashed half its skull in and drove a four inch, blessed spike deep within its brain. Although resilient, even such a creature could not survive with such damage to its head and with the Light itself coursing through it, and its soul fled its twisted form, given relief at last.

As her foe fell, as her weapon slipped from her nerveless fingers and fell to the ground, Britany felt the Light flowing through her, felt only its love and warmth. Frederick watched from the ground before her, his mouth open wide in surprise as she closed her eyes and smiled, her hands rising up above her head as if to bask in the warmth of some sun he could not see.

In an instant, the Light exploded from her form, channeling itself through her and outwards in a blessed miracle. All around her, every undead creature within twenty yards burned to ash in an instant, the black flakes blowing away on the frozen wind. Beyond that, the creatures cowered and then fled in horror from her blessed form, turned in an instant by the unleashed power of the Light.

A second later, the Light faded and was gone. Frederick scrambled to his feet to find Britany looking at him, the golden glow slowly fading from her eyes. She gave him a half-smile, as if to say it was alright, before her eyes rolled up in her head and she collapsed.

Frederick dashed to her side, calling out for aid even as other Crusaders began to counter-attack the temporarily cowering undead creatures. Men ran to Frederick's side and together they lifted Britany's plate-armored body from the field and rushed her to the rear of the battle.

Two days later the paladin would awaken, alive despite the wound she'd suffered. She would discover that she bore a scar from the rushed and urgent healing, and that her breastplate was so damaged that it would no longer be useful in combat. Though she would cough up bloody mucus for the rest of the campaign, the Sin'dorei would stand again beside her allies within a few weeks, her body, her life forever a sacrifice to the Light and to her comrades.