c20

In the middle of the Great Sea...

The captain of the icebreaker stood on the deck of his trading vessel with a spy glass watching the "beast", the great storm which devoured all who came near it, to the south of them. The noon sky above him was overcast, and the clouds felt dark and threatening on his route to Valiance Keep from Stormwind. The winds had been hard but in their favor as had the Maelstrom's rotation which always cut their time traveling to the northernmost Alliance settlement, though fought against them tooth and claw should they try to go back the way they came. Formed thousands of years ago during what the Night Elves euphemistically called the "Sundering", before humans were even a twinkle in their Vrykul forbears eye, it had been the bane of every ship's captain's existence no matter who they were. Honest traders or Bloodsail pirates, it made no difference. The insatiable bitch would suck you in and devour you whole if you got too close to her. She was a blessing if you were heading west north of her, but a demon if you were careless.

Captain Morrigan wasn't a careless man. Leathery, tanned face, and saltwater and sun bleached hair and beard, the human had plied these waters for the better part of three decades running goods and people between Stormwind, Menethil Harbor, Valiance Keep, and Theramore Isle... When there was a Theramore Isle. Originally from the island kingdom of Kul Tiras, he had spent more hours of his life on a ship's deck than he ever had on solid ground. His hands bore the callouses of the ropes and rigging which he wouldn't shy away from when it needed doing, and his eyes though getting older were still sharp missing little. On occasion, he'd even gone around the northern coast of Kalimdor to trade with the Night Elves, running relief supplies to the Dark Shore and the survivors of Auberdine after the Cataclysm. The sea was where he felt most at home. The sea was his freedom.

"Mr. Kelley, three degrees to starboard." Morrigan called out to his helmsman. "I can see her gettin' all excited about us rubbin' up against her. We need to let her down easy."

Chill sea spray danced up from the waters below splashing those on the deck. Overhead and behind them, he could hear thunder rumbling, but saw no lightning as yet. With any luck, they might even be able to escape the storm before it became a squall.

"Aye aye, Captain, three degrees to starboard." Came Kelley's reply.

If the storm should hit them, he'd have to draw up the sails, and start the main paddle wheel to keep them moving. Captain Morrigan didn't want to engage the ship's oil driven engines until he had to. He trusted the wind and the sea currents more than he would ever trust the inventions of Gnomes. Also, the fuel needed for the icebreaker was expensive, obtainable only through supply chains that he was nearly certain ended with either Goblins or Gnomes sitting on large piles of gold and silver. He knew he would have to fire them up soon enough as they approached the ice flows which surrounded Northrend. He didn't relish having to shell out extra gold because of a storm.

He continued to keep his eye on the monster to the south as his ship made its slight course correction. It was his practice every voyage to never let the Maelstrom out of his sight for long. You never knew what she was going to do or what she was going to throw at you. The churning storm clouds and flashing, unnatural lightning which swirled around the center of the great sea was, in its own way, a beautiful thing to behold. It was a terrifying display of raw power that forced you to respect it even as you struggled to keep your distance from it. It could be mesmerizing for him even as he held his resolve to keep his ship from it.

And then as he watched, in the blink of an eye, she was gone, collapsed into the waters that surrounded her.

Morrigan took his spyglass away from his eye and cleaned the lenses quickly before putting it back and scanning the southern horizon again. He couldn't find the eternal storm anywhere he looked. Beneath his feet, he could feel his ship slowing down as though the Maelstrom's rotational current was no longer there.

"What in the name of...?" He began to swear, lowering his spyglass and instinctively casting his eyes around his ship, noting the positions of his crew and the sounds coming from the masts and deck beneath him.

Out around the icebreaker, the seawater began to bubble and steam like Blackrock coffee on a cold morning. The air around the ship turned from chilled to feeling like he was making port near Booty Bay in the tropics. And then he saw a fish float to the surface, dead. Then another one. The carcass of what looked like an orca emerged at a distance off the port bow.

"What be this? Oh, lady, what hellish game you be playin' with me now?" He asked, disturbed greatly as he turned once more to face the south.

He almost couldn't wrap his mind around it. The Maelstrom had always been there, always waiting to dance with the sea captains and consume those who got too fresh with her.

He put his spyglass to his eye once more to check and see if she'd decided to reappear. Maybe it had been his imagination?

Immediately, Morrigan's face twisted in horror at what he saw and he began shouting orders, "Ninety degrees to Starboard, Kelley! Batten down the hatches! Draw up the sails! Fire the engines! Full power! Burn it all if you have to! Move if you want to live, boys!"

Around him his men jumped into action obeying his orders, they ran across the deck quickly. Kelley obeyed his captain without question and the ship rocked as the helmsman cranked the wheel hard. Beneath Morrigan's feet, he could feel the lurch of the paddlewheel engaging and thrusting the ship forward.

In the distance, miles to the south, a wave was building and sucking the water beneath them inexorably towards it. That was damning enough if that had been all it was. But no, the bitch had left another party favor behind. Beyond the building tidal wave, a new mountain had risen powerfully and suddenly in the middle of the sea, spewing molten rock and belching black ash.

Captain Morrigan didn't know if he and his men could outrun the tsunami, or even where it had come from. Maybe the Maelstrom had gotten tired of playing her usual games with him, and decided he and his ship would look more interesting at the bottom of the sea. But he had to at least give his men that hope and push his ship to try. He had two options, both insane: either he turned to port and headed straight into the wave, pushing the boat to dive through it, or he headed straight away from the massive wall of water and hoped the boat was able to catch the wave like some crazy goblins he once saw using waxed boards off the coast of the Swamp of Sorrows. Diving through the wave would most certainly put them closer to the fiery mountain that had appeared out of nowhere if it didn't boil them like potatoes in a pot. That left him with the other insane choice, but with an extreme amount of luck it might beach them somewhere on Northrend's coast to the north instead of the new death trap he saw in the south.

The icebreaker struggled forwards, the paddlewheel striking the water hard even as the water itself wanted to retreat behind them. Scanning the deck, he realized the men didn't know what he did. Those men still on deck had tied themselves to the masts like they would have in a "normal" squall.

"Get below deck!" He ordered them, taking his knife and slashing at the ropes hard, and watching to make sure they did the same same to their tethers. "All of you! Go!"

He watched as the deck cleared then scanned it one more time for stragglers. Up on the poop deck was one more, a man he knew wouldn't desert his post until someone took his place. He was a good man, sometimes too much so for his own good.

Damn. So that's the way it's gotta be does it? He swore mentally. Mr. Kelley knew as well as he did the ship wouldn't keep a straight course without someone steering it even with a rope locking the wheel, not in these conditions.

Morrigan made his decision. It's my ship. I'll be the only one responsible for her keeping course.

He then climbed the steps, jumping as he ran up them to the helm and ordered his helmsman off the wheel, "You are relieved Mr. Kelley! Get below!"

"What about you, Captain?!" Mr. Kelley responded, a veteran sailor himself, his hands not having budged from the wheel.

"Someone's got to keep her straight now don't he?!" He shouted back. "Go! That's an order, sailor!"

Morrigan then took the wheel from him, choosing not to see the look in his helmsman's eyes as the human man, shoved to the side, obeyed his captain and made for the hatch to the lower deck. Focusing on his compass, he tried to keep it as steady as he could.

The captain then fully resigned himself once he heard that hatch shut tight and heard the click of the lock.

"Alright, you bitch," The captain spat, wiping sweat from his forehead, "You want me, come and get me, but you'll not be takin' me crew if I've got anythin' to say 'bout it!"

He didn't turn to see the tsunami approaching his ship. He knew it was there and it was answering his challenge, slowly, relentlessly stalking the icebreaker. He didn't know what had caused it, where the hell the volcano in the middle of the ocean had come from, or why the sea around him was boiling. He'd never been much of a religious man, but as the fear of his ship's circumstances overtook him, he prayed to the Holy Light, or whatever divinity might be listening, "Holy Light shine on us," he remembered the simple prayer from the few times in his childhood he attended the Church of Light's services, "enlighten us with your glory, shelter us from evil, and save us from the darkness. Forgive us for wandering from your light, and protect us from the shadow. Let us not taste death, but welcome us into your eternal presence." He then added, his voice rising in pitch with fear, "Save me crew, and me. Please."

The tsunami closed in, dragging his ship backwards towards its destructive force in spite of its straining engines. It would not take "not today" for an answer.

In Elwynn Forest...

The small force of armored soldiers rode hard towards their capital city, the night feeling like it wanted to close in around them. At their front was a young, blond haired man without armor dressed in travel worn Gilnean gentleman's clothes, a unique, elven made sword with a fiercely glowing golden eye strapped to his back. Behind him, but in a prominent place rode an unarmed, dark haired muscular man with a freshly grown full beard in plain white Priest's robes, barefoot in the stirrups, who looked to know how to handle a horse better than some of the soldiers who rode next to him.

In front of them, the outer walls and gate of the city, separating Elwynn Forest from the entry bridge and lake known as "the Valley of Heroes" drew closer and closer, the thunder from the horses' hooves shaking the ground beneath them as they approached. The armored guards at the gated entry appeared confused at the oncoming mass of soldiers bearing the standards and livery of Stormwind. And then they saw the young man with the golden blond hair leading them, and recognized him from previous duty in the Keep and around Stormwind.

"Look to the king!" The guards at the gate shouted in surprise, announcing his arrival. "Make way for King Anduin!"

The shout was picked up and repeated by the Stormwind guards all along the bridge and into the city even as the cohort of soldiers rode straight through the gate on their warhorses.

Anduin did not slow down, nor did he stop to acknowledge those men as he might once have. There was no time for such niceties. He, Grayson, and the garrison troops passed swiftly under the watchful eyes of the monolithic statues of the Alliance's heroes and continued on. They had always been larger than life to him growing up, and now he felt the weight of the gaze of those great men and women as though they and a host of other heroes were weighing his actions in the next few hours. Would he measure up? Briefly he wondered if his father, King Varian, was watching him from somewhere as well before shoving the thought out of his mind to focus on the task at hand.

He had discussed the plan briefly with Grayson and his captains. The Stockades had been his first thought, but then he couldn't shake the feeling that those in Stormwind's prison house were in the lesser amount of danger than those being transferred elsewhere; those that were never seen after that. The king would take half of his men and head into the Mage's District where the guard captain had described seeing the prisoner transfers go. Grayson would take the other half and head for the Cathedral. They both wanted to be able to get Jeshua's pact to as many of those in Stormwind as they could, but the void aligned Priests and spell users had to be stopped in order for them to do that, as did the summoning happening in the Cathedral which threatened everyone and everything. Between the two of them, Anduin admitted, Grayson, and Jeshua's choice to work through him, appeared to be the better choice for stopping the appearance of the void god at the Cathedral if at all possible.

The inky black storm clouds overhead continued to rumble with its darkened, unnatural thunder and lightning. They rode past the bridge and into Stormwind's Trade District unchallenged, the patrol guards continuing to announce Anduin's arrival. The air in the city felt hotter and more humid than outside on the highway. It was a radical change from the deathly chill of just a few hours earlier.

In the center of the Trade District, just in front of the city's community board, sometimes referred to jokingly as the "Adventure Board" for the number of mercenary job postings on behalf of the kingdom which could be found on it, Anduin's and Grayson's two parties then split off, one heading west through the city gate across the canal to the Mage's District, the other running through the back street of the Trade District and across the canal bridge north to the Cathedral District.

"You majesty, where should be concentrate our search?" The guard captain had asked him as they slowed for the turn, passing the closed up auction house entry.

Anduin had given it some thought. "The Slaughtered Lamb tavern." He replied.

In truth, he hoped he was wrong, but he could think of few other places to start that would welcome a steady stream of live prisoners. As King, he knew of and had mostly sanctioned the Warlocks to practice their fel arts in peace as long as they did so against Stormwind's enemies. Fel was an evil source of power, but Anduin, like his father before him, recognized that they made powerful allies against those who would harm or destroy his people. They had been left alone in their catacombs under the city as long as they followed his laws and nothing "got out of control".

Anduin looked upwards towards the great cloud of darkness that covered his lands, as he did he then saw what had been hidden from his view in Elwynn. Thin streams of greenish black energies rising up from points in the city like unnatural jets of flame feeding the malevolent blot on the sky.

Things have definitely gotten out of control. He decided.

The Mage's district was unlike the rest of the city in that the pathways in it were unpaved, and made little logical sense, turning and curving around themselves. Still at the head of his cohort, he turned right upon entering the grass and dirt path district and followed the narrow path between buildings around with his horse until he came out into one of the District's two centers. Spying the business opening he knew would be there he and his men rode up to it and dismounted.

Once his boots touched the ground, Anduin drew his father's sword from his back. In truth, he was more comfortable with his Priestly mace, and would have much preferred that role of healer, diplomat, and comforter over the one he would have to assume now as king of judge, jury, and if need be executioner in this raid of the Warlock sanctum he knew existed beneath the tavern. In this role, he was certain his father would have been more at home, and holding Shalamayne in his hand was the closest he could come then to summoning his father's warrior spirit to stand beside him.

Taking their cue from him, the soldiers all drew their own weapons, steel swords ringing as they slid out of metal scabbards and steel shields clanging as they came into their owners' grips. Armed and ready, they stood waiting for their king's orders.

"Our first priority is saving lives." Anduin addressed them. "We go in and we learn if prisoners were wrongly brought here."

"And if we do?" One of the captains asked.

"We free them, no matter who they are." Anduin answered.

"What of the Warlocks, your majesty?" The captain asked again, his tone seeming to search for something. "They aren't likely to take kindly to being raided whether they're up to no good or not."

"Self-defense, Captain." Anduin answered firmly. "Leave them be unless they resist or attack."

But the guard captain pressed him, wanting to be clear what their limits were. King Varian was not known for being shy when heads needed to be cracked, but Anduin had more of a softer reputation. "And if they do, your majesty?"

"Do what you need to do, Captain." The king responded irritated at having to spell it out, his unease with his decision evident, but his decision made nonetheless. He then spoke up so all of his men could hear him clearly, "If anyone among them in there has murdered a citizen of this kingdom in service to evil forces then that person has forfeited his own life. Am I clear?"

The guard captain stiffened up where he stood, "Yes, your majesty." His respect for the young king having grown in those moments. The other soldiers also replied in unison, "Yes, your majesty!"

This is what kings must do. He told himself. This is why we bear a sword, to defend the weak and to dispense hard justice when needed. It's not supposed to be a pleasant duty, but it is a necessary one.

And then he quietly prayed in a low voice, "Holy Light, let the king's sword be the instrument of your justice. Let my faith in you be my shield. Let us free all those we can and save as many as possible."

Near him, the guard captain having heard added reverently, "So ask we all, your majesty."

Anduin nodded in acknowledgment.

"Let's go." Anduin then told them, not looking forward to what he would find... or have to do. Bringing Shalamayne to bear in his hand, he led his men into the tavern's entrance.

In the Cathedral District...

The Cathedral square was quiet. Grayson had stood many times there in front of the statue of Uther the Lightbringer crowning the triple pooled waterfall fountain, meditating on the great man's life and legacy. Always there had been the sounds of life. Children from the orphanage would laugh and play nearby. Priests would discuss theology or philosophical concepts. There had been a serenity to be sure, but there was always a joyfulness to that serenity. There was none of that now. The fountain had stopped running, the calming splashing sound had been silenced. Except for Grayson and the men attached to him, the square was unnaturally empty and still like a grave.

He hoped it was just because of the hour of the night, but his gut kept telling him otherwise. It just felt wrong, dark, and malevolent to the former Paladin.

High above them, a swirling greenish black vortex of energy enveloped the uppermost spire of the Cathedral and flowed upwards, feeding the central mass of the black lightning storm cloud which dominated the sky above. The air was humid and hot and sweat stained his robes where he stood. Around the square, oil lit lanterns struggled to keep their tiny lights aflame against the black night.

The Cathedral doors up the steps in front of them were shut, as was every window and door he could see in the dim lighting. Like everything else in the square, it felt hostile and unnatural. The Church of Light had never had anything to hide before, and all had always been welcome regardless of time of day or night.

"Are you with me, my lord?" Grayson asked aloud in a low voice, addressing no one the armored soldiers with him could see.

Always, my Paladin. Came the internal response. I will always be with you. We are one through my pact.

"On your signal then, my lord." Grayson then responded aloud, his weapon hand gripping for a hilt or shaft that wasn't there.

"My lord?" The captain standing near him asked in confusion. "To whom are you speaking?"

Go. Came the response.

"Let's go!" Grayson then commanded the men, ignoring the guard's question, and started forward from the fountain.

They marched up the steps of the Cathedral and stopped at the closed double doors. When Grayson pulled at the handle, unsurprisingly, he found it wouldn't move. He knew that the Cathedral doors had no locks on them. They had never been needed. Feeling the door and the handle with his hands, they felt cold, unstable, and like everything else, dark.

Then, a kind of soft golden glow of Light began to surround the leader of the raid like an enveloping shield. It illuminated the space around the men, growing brighter. The guard captain then watched as Grayson put the palm of his hand against the door and closed his eyes. Pure, sacred Light streamed from his hand out and into the grain of the wood of the door, penetrating it and causing it to glow with a golden fury. Soon, the doors erupted in a holy, white, purifying flame that consumed them entirely in seconds.

"Eyes open!" Grayson warned his men as the purging flames died down. "This place has been defiled by the Shadow! Steel alone won't help against what we may find inside! Call on the Holy Light to aid you against it! Call on Jeshua!"

"Yes, my lord!" The men replied, awed by the display they had already been shown.

Inside the Cathedral was almost pitch black. The Holy Light which radiated off of Jeshua's emissary provided the only illumination for the men to see by as it drove back the almost tangible darkness the men ran into. As they came into the sanctuary, runes glowing with a dark, violet light had been drawn in a pattern all across the marble of the floor up to where the altar lay. Lumps of what looked like commoner's clothing in the darkness with globs of hair and broken flesh lay scattered around them. The overpowering stench of death and decay was everywhere. Behind Grayson, several of the soldiers lost their gorge at the smell, lifting their helmets to spill it on the floor beneath them.

"Holy Light. What's happened here?" The guard captain next to Grayson asked, his voice trembling at the sight.

"Terrible things, captain." Grayson replied, his voice filling with sadness and anger. "Terrible, unholy things."

A maniacal laughter then began to echo around the darkened sanctuary's chamber. It chilled the soldier's bones when they heard it. "Somehow this all seems familiar!" The voice cackled from the darkness. "The same play with fresh actors!"

Off to their right, from a far side passage, voices could be heard pleading and crying.

They're coming from the catacombs. Grayson then realized. There are people still alive down there!

"How do we proceed, my lord?" The captain asked.

Grayson thought quickly, and then said, "You've all taken Jeshua's pact. There is power in that! Call on him and he will answer you! Captain, take your men and head into the catacombs, free everyone you can! Remember, the battle belongs to the Light, not your swords. Call on it and it will come to your aid!"

"And you, my lord?" The captain asked.

"I am called to be right here where I am. You have your orders. Move out." Grayson answered.

"Yes, my lord." The captain responded, and then called to his men, "You heard the man! The battle belongs to the Light! Let's move!"

The soldiers then, swords out and shields up, all swarmed around Grayson and past him towards the entry to the catacombs below the Cathedral. He marveled at the courage of the armored men and women, none of them magic users of any kind that he knew of yet knowing the kinds of monsters they might face being willing to rush into the darkness in order to save lives regardless. It was these kinds of heroic men and women that the kingdom of Stormwind had been built on, those willing to sacrifice themselves so that others might live.

When they disappeared, Grayson moved forward towards the center of the sanctuary, his bare feet cold against the floor. Light radiated off of him, illuminating the thick darkness around him, burning it away from him and forcing it back. He could see the corpses on the ground. Some of them looked days old. Some of them looked fresh, maybe within hours. Pools of blood, both dried and fresh were everywhere.

"So this is the champion the Light sends, eh?" The maniacal voice cackled once more. "An unarmed, washed up has-been with no armor and no clue. Pathetic."

"The Light is my hammer and my armor!" Grayson called back defiantly. "I will not fear the darkness for the Holy Light shines within me!"

The Light radiating around Grayson grew in brightness and intensity, illuminating the shadows of the sanctuary until they burned away against the pillars and columns to the sides.

The voice laughed once more, though the laughter was uncertain and died quickly. "You're too late, 'warrior of light'. The call has been heard! The darkness comes to consume her and there is nothing you can do to prevent it!"

The Light coming off of Grayson illuminated the far back wall where the altar lay. Behind that altar stood a balding man with a beard in midnight blue Priest's robes. In his hand was a sharp, obsidian colored fang like dagger. On the altar was a small bundle of bloodied clothes. Blood dripped from one side of the defiled table and short blond locks could be seen as Grayson approached, as well as smallish, light skinned arms.

"Malcolm?" Grayson exclaimed in horror, recognizing the body of the boy on the altar.

"That's why they're called altar boys isn't it?" The Shadow Priest remarked evilly. "It takes a lot more of them than I thought it would to power the void fissure above us."

A burning, righteous rage rose up within Grayson at the monster in front of him as tears for the slaughtered innocents filled his eyes. Every muscle in his body, every fiber of his being wanted justice for those lives taken in the name of the Void. He had known Malcolm. He was a kind, good kid from a good family in town. The boy hadn't yet decided if he wanted to pursue the Priesthood or to follow the Paladin order as a squire. He had been like a little brother to everyone in the Cathedral. He had only been nine years old.

The battle belongs to the Light, Grayson. Jeshua's voice came to him again. Your rage will not help them. The enemy is the Void. Justice belongs to me.

"By your leave then, my lord." Grayson responded in submission, his voice choked with emotion.

He felt weak, his arms and legs wanting to collapse from the weight of what he was seeing and being held back from avenging it. Every instinct in him wanted to grab a warhammer from somewhere and smash the Shadow Priest into a bloody heap and spit on his remains before setting them ablaze with holy fire, but he felt Jeshua's meaning. Just like the Priest in Goldshire, this man was deceived and under the Shadow's control.

Trust me, Grayson, and you will see things you didn't think possible. Jeshua's voice spoke to him once more.

"The Void will consume everything! Not even the Light can escape its grasp!" The Shadow Priest cackled, waving his bloodied knife in the air.

Grayson then felt the Light within him take control, strengthening his arms and steadying his stance. He opened his mouth to speak, but felt as a spectator giving permission for its use, "What is darkness, but an absence of the Light?"

The Shadow Priest began to laugh once more at him.

"I have come to bring Jeshua's Light to this darkness." Grayson heard his own voice saying, but knew it hadn't originated with him.

The emissary then knelt down and placed his palm flat against the ground once more as he had done in Goldshire and out on the highway. "He is resurrection and life itself." Grayson's voice intoned, though the words had not come from him, and he himself had been confused as to why he said them. "He is the Holy Light."

The Shadow Priest's laughter froze. "Wait, what are you doing?!" He called out.

Golden white Light exploded from where Grayson made contact with the floor like a bright star gone nova. Holy Light flooded the sanctuary of the Cathedral, burning away the blood and dissolving the offending runes which covered the floor and the altar. The Light slammed into the Shadow Priest and he flew backwards against the Cathedral wall, dropping the dagger against the floor. Void energy then erupted from the man's form screaming a deep and demonic cry as though in intense pain at the pure glory of the Holy Light being revealed.

"NOOOO!" The void creature cried out in futility as the Light attacked it without mercy, devouring and destroying it until there was nothing left of its dark shadow to be found.

The Light continued its cleansing, purifying purge of the sanctuary. It gently enveloped the body of the boy on the altar like a mother with her own child, filling and surrounding him in its radiance. Likewise, it did the same with the bodies on the floor. Wounds gently closed and flesh which had started to decompose became fresh, healthy, and living. The Light gently lifted them off the floor and set the newly living people on their feet as it continued its purge, racing around the sanctuary and its antechambers reaching deep into the Cathedral's various quarters and then plunging down into the catacombs, purifying and destroying the shadows wherever it went moving at the speed of light itself. It climbed also up into the higher levels and chambers of the building and up into the spires, dissolving and banishing the stream of dark, fel energies being poured up into the night sky, denying the void fissure any more of the fuel it was using to grow larger, though the inky black mass, high in the sky over the world did not dissipate.

Outside, the wave of Light rippled out from the Cathedral's walls and began to blanket the streets and buildings around it expanding ever outwards until it encompassed the walls of the Cathedral District, and then the canals, and then the surrounding districts of the city until the entire metropolis was bathed in the Light's holy glory.

"Lord Shadowbreaker? Is that you?" Grayson heard a familiar young voice call out to him and then realized he had been closing his eyes.

He opened them to see the Cathedral sanctuary blazing with Light everywhere. And it was filled with living, breathing people around him as he stood from where he had been kneeling and turned this way and that to see. Up near the altar, a blond haired, nine year old boy in a white acolyte's alb had called out to him.

"Malcolm?" He called back in awe and surprise. "You're alive?" And then turning once more to see the people, "You're all alive?"

I am resurrection and life itself, Grayson. Do you believe this? Jeshua's voice asked him, gently.

"I do, my lord." Grayson answered, awestruck at what had just been done through him.

Then tell them how this happened, and what they must do. Jeshua reminded him. There isn't much time left.

Grayson then began to snap himself back to reality. Jeshua was right. He had come to Stormwind to do a job and he was going to do it. None of them had the time for him to be waylaid or stunned by the power of what had just occurred or how the Holy Light had used him.

"Everyone, listen to me! This miracle which has been done for you was done through the power and name of Jeshua Lightborn!" Grayson raised his voice and announced to them. "The Holy Light sent him to save and redeem this world and all of its children from the darkness. It now pleads and begs with you like a parent to accept the pact Jeshua Lightborn has made with us all by taking his cup and becoming true children of the Light!" He took the silver chalice he had carried out of it's sack and showed it to the newly resurrected. "Go, tell everyone you can what Jeshua Lightborn has done for you and bring them back here to the Cathedral to receive the Light's gift through him!"