c6

Over the Hillsbrad Foothills just before dawn...

The golden and white colored gryphons flew over the dense tree tops to a concealed landing point the small strike force of armored Alliance warriors, veterans all, had worked out the day before. They had been given the cover of the early morning darkness for most of their flight from the Wildhammer gryphon aeries of Aerie Peak in the Hinterlands province. Their clandestine orders bore the official seals and signatures of Bishop Marcus and Lord Greymane, two very high ranking officials representing both the Church of Light and the Alliance, which did much to persuade the Wildhammer gryphon masters to part with their animals with little or no notice.

Grayson Shadowbreaker took point in the "V" shaped flight formation on the moonless night, following the brightly shining stars towards their destination. Flanking him to the right was Durothian Rall, a comrade and fellow Paladin who also had somehow had his connection to the Light severed with no explanation. To the left were Katharine the Pure and Arthur the Faithful, both of them having been accomplished and devoted Paladins in their own right. There were maybe half a dozen others off either wing of Grayson's gryphon. All of them had been consecrated as Paladins to the service of the Light, and all of them had found themselves lost since the Dawn Event and in a crisis of faith looking for redemption and an answer to why the sacred presence had deserted them so without explanation. All had also been turned away from the Order of the Silver Hand in disgrace with the Light's rejection and their support of the Church of Light's insistence on destroying the new abominations.

When Lord Shadowbreaker had approached these others of Stormwind's Paladins with the vision he had been given, and the new mission with which he had been inspired by Bishop Marcus, they had also answered the call. They accepted it as a way to prove their faith in the purging of this new masked "scourge" and the legacy of the necromancer Jeshua who had brought it about. Lord Greymane had been consulted as well and given his blessing. Within hours, a plan of attack had been drawn up using SI:7's vast resources.

The first target which had been suggested had been Darrowshire north of Aerie Peak. It would have been a shorter flight and easier access. But the reports from Stormwind Intelligence indicated that a large Argent Crusade presence had been posted there and at Crown Guard Tower delusionally funneling supplies to the newly raised monsters. Their brother Paladins had been so thoroughly duped that they were aiding the enemies of the Light, and there was little question that they would face stiff resistance if they attempted to purge that town. None of them had been comfortable with the thought of having to fight and kill their own brothers in the Light to reach the monsters they were protecting, blind though they might be. No, they had to choose a target where they wouldn't be fighting their own, but one that would strike a meaningful blow at the heretic abominations.

In the early morning light, the town of Tarren Mill appeared across the river as the Paladins descended towards the cover of the trees and hills just north of Durnholde Keep. There were no Paladins here. No "true" living humans that they knew of. It was only patrolled and guarded by a token force of Horde troops, a mix of a couple of dozen Orc Grunts and Forsaken Deathguards. Having fought against the Horde for much of their lives, none of the warriors from Stormwind had any trouble with that. The corruption had begun at Tarren Mill, and it had been decided that it would be at Tarren Mill that they would begin the purge putting all those enchanted undead to the sword and cleansing the town. They would destroy the new evil where it started.

The plan had been to set fire to the town before first light while most of the town's occupants were still in the buildings, destroying them before they knew what was happening. They would then set the newly planted fields to the torch and burn them to ashes. All those who survived the flames would feel the Paladin's hammer and then feel nothing at all.

The Light would be avenged for the blasphemy which had been forced upon it.

It was grim work as Grayson ran through the plan in his head over and over again. But the Light doesn't always call us to easy things. He reminded himself. It calls us to righteousness, and that is rarely an easy thing.

The gryphons descended lower and lower until they were just above the tree tops. The wind was loud in his ears from the flight, drowning out most other sounds. The leaves and needles of the forest grazed the magnificent animals' hind feet making a quiet rustling sound as the landing point rushed up to meet them.

"GRAYSON!" A man's voice shouted loudly at the Paladin from nowhere. Startled he looked from side to side to see where it might have come from.

"DUROTHIAN! WHAT IS IT?!" Grayson called out to his right, shouting louder than he was comfortable with for fear of drawing attention to them, but having to overcome the sound of the rushing wind.

"I SAID NOTHING, MY LORD!" Durothian responded, his voice loud enough to hear, but still next to a whisper in the wind.

"GRAYSON! PAY ATTENTION!" The voice shouted at him again, loudly and clearly.

"WHO IS CALLING MY NAME?!" Grayson cried out to those flanking him.

Without warning, a bright light, brighter than the noon time sun exploded in front of Grayson Shadowbreaker's eyes as he looked ahead of his gryphon again. Blinded from the sudden change from almost pitch darkness to blazing light he instinctively let go of the reins of the gryphon, throwing his gauntleted hands up to his face to protect his one good eye, and then found himself falling in space through tree branches and leaves.

Down he went, hitting heavy branches hard. Sharp pains hit his limbs again and again as though he were being beaten with rods. He heard the snapping and the scraping of wood against metal as he went. Sharp twigs struck against his heavy plate armor which was the only thing keeping him from being impaled on the larger woody protrusions as he fell through the darkness, but it also might as well have been an anchor or a millstone tied to his body as it dragged him faster towards the hard earth beneath.

I'm going to die. The thought ran through his mind. It wasn't the first time it did so, having fought on numerous battlefields, and it had never disturbed him before as much as it did then. He had never feared death as much as he did in that moment, because the thought of his own death was soon followed by, and the Light has left me.

Seconds later his back hit the bare ground of the forest hard with a heavy "thud." Stunned and not able to move, he could only just lay there, explosions of pain shooting through his back, skull, and extremities. He struggled to breath, and the pain only magnified as he did. His lungs fought him on taking in more air. Around him at a distance he could barely hear the sounds of human voices, Durothian and Katharine calling out his name in the darkness. Dazed and confused he drifted in and out of consciousness, only knowing he wasn't dead or asleep for the intense shooting pains throughout his muscled and conditioned frame.

He tried to open his one good eye, but found that though it was already open, the darkness remained. He was completely blind.

"Grayson!" The man's voice called out to him again, though more gently as though he now knew he had the Paladin's undivided attention.

But, dazed and confused, the Paladin couldn't respond just yet as he tried to orient himself. Pain shot through his neck and back as he tried to move his head.

"Grayson!" The man's voice was insistent once more.

"I'm... I'm here!" He cried out in response, thinking it had been one of his compatriots trying to find him. The pain of doing so had been almost unbearable, but he needed someone to find him quickly or he wouldn't survive. "I'm here!"

"Grayson! Why are you trying to destroy me?!" The man then questioned him. "Why are you turning my hand away?!"

What?! Confused, the Paladin responded, his breaths shallow and ragged, "Wh... Who are you? Wh... Where are you? I can't... see... anything!"

And then the Paladin's sightless vision filled with holy, purifying Light. It would have been blinding except that he already could not see anything else. And in the center of the Light the form of a man took shape; a man composed of pure, radiant Light. His eyes and reddish blond hair blazed with the Light as though he was the center of the sun. His tanned skin appeared like molten bronze. Wounds appeared in the man's wrists as though spikes had been driven through them. It was the same man whose face he had seen in his visions reaching out to him sadly.

"I am Jeshua. I am the one you are trying to destroy." The man told him.

Alarm and shock ran throughout Grayson's pain wracked body as he struggled to comprehend what was happening. Adrenaline surged as he shouted back, "No! It... It can't be! Jeshua tried to trick us! He's tried to destroy the Light!" Grayson responded, every word a struggle to speak.

"I am Jeshua, and I am the Holy Light." The man responded calmly, his expression concerned. "You have been blinded, friend. We walked together once, you and I. I would have that again." The man's tone was of one who might be talking to a friend who had gone down a dangerous path. "I do not want to lose you or any more of my own to the Shadow."

Grayson's mind raced still trying to explain the vision he was having. He couldn't reconcile it with what he had believed to be true, but neither could he ignore the radiant glory of Light in front of him.

"Aarghhh!" Grayson Shadowbreaker cried out in pain. He was certain that bones had been broken in his back and ribs. Sharp pains in his legs informed him of possible fractures there too. He still lived, but he knew that it would only be for moments more.

"You reveal yourself only to take retribution on me then." He responded, sputtering his words as blood flecked his lips. "So be it. I justly die for my error."

The Being of Light shook his head slowly and responded, "No. I have other things in mind, other work for you to do, Grayson."

"Death would seem to disagree with you." Grayson coughed up more blood.

"Here, let me help you, old friend." The figure of Light bent down and then said, "Let me heal you, body and soul." The Light filled image of Jeshua moved to touch him with his scarred hand and wrist, and Grayson couldn't resist.

Immediately a soothing peace flooded his being, and the pain which had been hellishly unbearable subsided to nothing. For a brief instant, he thought he had finally broken his mortal bonds as all pain fled and there was only peace, but then he felt the hard ground underneath him, and the weight of his armor still pressing against his body. He gasped and drew in a full breath of cool night air tasting of forest leaves and loamy soil.

I'm not dead. He realized. And then a further shock came with the comprehension that the vision had fully healed him. But his natural sight had not returned. He could not see the stars or any of the shadowy outlines of dark woods he should have been able to see.

His vision was still only filled with the blazing Light of the man, Jeshua.

"I still can't see. I'm blind." Grayson said, the first thing then coming to his mind as he still lay there on the ground.

"Your sight was blind before, now there is nothing to distract you from seeing me clearly. But I am sending you on to Tarren Mill. There you will find a man named Andrew Haleis. He will restore the sight to your eyes." The Light filled Jeshua told him. "Then, I have more for you to do. You will take my cup back to Stormwind and deliver them from what is to come."

"I don't understand." Grayson replied.

"You will, my friend." Jeshua told him. "I've missed your companionship. I would have us be friends again." The Holy Light answered him.

And then the vision faded, and Grayson Shadowbreaker was left in the darkness once more. The pain from the fall had gone, but his soul and mind had been left in turmoil and agony as he wrestled with what he had just experienced.

"Grayson?" Another familiar baritone voice came to him. It was Durothian Rall's.

"Durothian?" Grayson replied. "I can't see anything! Where are you? Did you see him? Did you hear his voice? Tell me I'm not insane, please!"

"We're all right here, Grayson." Durothian replied. "We didn't see anything, but we heard his voice. We all heard it. By the Holy Light, we all heard it."

The voice of a woman, Katharine, then spoke as feminine hands went to work on the straps of his armor, "Don't move just yet. I knew you were tough, but I can't believe you survived that fall, Grayson. It must have been close to seventy feet through the trees. We need to get your armor off of you and check for bleeding and broken bones. I've got healing droughts and bandages in my medpac."

"Do you have anything for my sight?" He asked, ignoring her admonition and attempting to sit up.

"No." She replied, and he felt a woman's hands on the sides of his head. "You can't see anything?"

"No. It's all darkness now." He replied, bringing himself up and feeling around the soil and roots of the earth around him with his hands.

He felt his breastplate and cloth cuiress come off as the cool morning air struck the bare skin of his chest. "Holy Light. You should be bruised black and blue at the very least, but you don't have a scratch on you! How is that possible?" Katharine exclaimed. "No bruising, nothing! You should have died from that fall!"

His conversation with the vision ran through his mind again and again. Somehow that vision of Jeshua had actually healed him completely just as he had said. I would have us be friends again. The man's words echoed through his mind again and again. No, not the man's words. It was the Light which spoke to me. It was the Holy Light reaching out to me with Jeshua's face. How could we have been so wrong? He thought to himself.

"I need to get to Tarren Mill." He then told them, trying to get to his feet.

"Stubborn ass. Sit back down." Durothian chided his friend, though there was a lack of certainty in his voice. "Your mission is over until we can get your sight back. Tarren Mill will have to wait."

"No," Grayson replied slowly. "Damn." He swore aloud, trying to make it make sense. "How could we be so..." He trailed off thinking of all of the conversations he had with Marcus. "I don't..." He wanted to weep. He wanted to be angry. He wanted put his his hammer through something. But most of all he wanted to know the truth.

Finally he said, "No, I think my mission has just begun. I think..." He tried to put into words what was rushing through his mind, "I think I've just been given new orders by the Holy Light itself. I can't explain it. Look, I can't see. I need answers. We all need the truth on this. Those answers are there in the town. I need someone to lead me to Tarren Mill, please, no matter what happens there. I know what I'm asking may be suicide for whoever goes with me, but I don't think I've got a choice, and I can't find the way by myself. The rest of you..." He took a breath, considering the options, "Go back, report to Stormwind." He then reconsidered, " No, wait. Not Stormwind. Light's Hope. We serve the Holy Light first. I think somewhere along the way we all forgot that. Report to the Highlord. Let him know what transpired here, what you heard and what you saw happened to me. I think he'll be willing to listen. Wait for word from me there."

There was silence around the man for more than a minute. He couldn't see what was going on, but imagined there was some kind of battle sign language being passed between them.

"I'll take you Grayson." Katharine then told him. "I want to keep an eye on you after that fall. I still don't know how you're even alive." She told him, then adding, "I heard the voice too. I want real answers as well."

"The rest of us will return to Aerie Peak for now." Durothian then pronounced. "We wait there for three days. If we don't hear anything from you, we'll assume the worst and report to Stormwind. If we do hear from you, and... and what we heard is the truth then we'll head to Light's Hope and report to the Silver Hand."

"Fair enough." Grayson answered.

There was silence for a minute, and Grayson knew that some other unspoken communication was passing between the others. These were men and women he trusted with his life, and they him with theirs.

"Three days, my lord." Durothian confirmed. "We fly for Stormwind at dawn of the fourth day."

"So be it. Let's go." Lord Shadowbreaker said out loud into the darkness around him. In spite of his disability, there was a determination in his voice.

Grayson couldn't see it, but in the east, the sun broke above the horizon. Dawn had come without his realizing it.

In Stormwind City the following day...

Anduin's public announcement spread through the city like wildfire. Printed on parchment, and stamped with the royal seal, it was posted and distributed on billboards, tavern walls, and signs around the city:

"To the good people of Stormwind and the Alliance. After having seen the miraculous transformations in the north for myself, and hearing the testimony of the Order of the Silver Hand, as King of Stormwind I am fully endorsing the embrace of these transformations caused by the Dawn Event as genuine, and I am also fully endorsing the authenticity and teachings of the teacher known as Jeshua who is responsible for these miraculous events. As soon as is appropriate, arrangements will be made to foster the reuniting with loved ones in Lordaeron thought lost to the plague. Any suggestion that these events are illusions or necromancy is verifiably false and is not supported by myself. Signed, Anduin Wrynn, King of Stormwind. [ROYAL SEAL]"

Most conspicuously, it had also been tacked to the doors of Stormwind's Cathedral of Light.

"The boy king has been ensorcelled by the Banshee!" Bishop Marcus exclaimed upon reading it as he stood on the front steps of the Cathedral next to High Priestess Laurena in the late morning.

His first instinct had been to tear down the delusional decree, but the seal on the document stayed his hand for the moment as a guard wearing the lion's livery and plate armor patrolled nearby. The royal seal ensured that anyone removing or defacing it could be arrested and brought up on charges.

"The King has made his position perfectly clear." The High Priestess remarked, keeping her tone of voice carefully neutral. "Perhaps through him, the Light has..."

Marcus cut her off, "The Light has been betrayed!" He announced. "We've all been betrayed and handed over to the Forsaken without the Horde having needed to so much as lift a sword!"

Laurena pursed her lips in thought. "King Anduin has always been devoted to the Holy Light, Marcus."

"Which makes this all the more distressing, High Priestess." The bishop responded. "We both know what kind of mind control Shadow cultists are capable of, and the Forsaken are known devotees of that wicked heresy. His majesty is clearly not in possession of himself anymore."

"There is no evidence of that, Marcus." Laurena's voice took on a tone of warning to her inferior. "He is still the king."

"Is he? Is he still the King Wrynn we know? Or is he a puppet of the Banshee Queen now? We need to call the clergy to discuss what to do. Stormwind is under threat from within at the very highest levels!" Marcus told her.

Enough. She thought to herself, and that thought became louder and more powerful. ENOUGH!

Laurena had listened to enough. Within herself, she felt her cautiousness and pragmatism begin to melt away at the accusations leveled against her king, the devout young man she herself had dedicated to the Holy Light as a child.

"We will do nothing of the sort, Marcus." She said, turning to him, raising herself up with authority and staring into his eyes with severe disapproval. "This paranoia has gone on long enough. I will not tolerate treason being preached in this holy place. Anduin is king of Stormwind and we will do everything within our power to support his wishes. Am I clear, your grace?" Her voice became like steel as she said it. "I do not want to hear another word against his majesty, or Jeshua Davidson." Another devout young man I knew as a boy, she thought to herself, protective maternal instincts rising within her. "The rest of the clergy will be instructed the same. Do you understand?"

Marcus looked at though he had been physically slapped by his superior. To him, she suddenly appeared as a woman he didn't even know.

"You can't be serious, Laurena! If Anduin is compromised, he must be removed from the throne until he's in his right mind again! Lord Greymane could perhaps rule as regent until such a time as..." Marcus tried to reason with her.

"Not as long as I draw breath, Marcus." The High Priestess dug in and refused to be moved. "I am ordering you to return to your chambers. You are suspended from any and all service as a Priest of the Light until such time as you come to your senses!" She then added somewhat coldly, "You are dismissed, Brother Marcus."

She watched as the color visibly drained from the man's face. Wordlessly and in shock, he slunk away towards the Cathedral's cloister apartments.

Overhead, the sunlight shone down on the High Priestess, and she basked in it's warmth and light. Within herself, she felt a familiar warmth return and fill a place within her that had been cold and dark for weeks.

She had made her choice.

Across the square, in the shadows of Stormwind's orphanage building, a figure robed in midnight blue had watched the whole exchange with great interest, reading the lips of the two arguing clergy. A smile broke across his cowled features at the conclusion.

"As long as I draw breath..." He repeated in a whisper. His grin grew evilly as he said, "What an interesting challenge. I may just have to accept, High Priestess."

His eyes then followed the disgraced clergyman as he crossed the square to the cloister where the former Bishop had run into another of the king's proclamations nailed to the door of the priestly residences. Anduin had apparently wanted to drive his point home. Frustrated, Marcus had opened the door quickly and slammed it behind him.

The Shadow Priest's attention was then drawn back to Laurena who still stood on the steps of the Cathedral, her eyes closed, her head held towards the sunlight which had broken through what had otherwise been a cloudy day, her hands raised palms up towards the light.

He liked her better when she was indecisive, pragmatic, gray.

The appearance of the renegade preacher Jeshua had thrown their entire world out of balance, and this was the problem the Shadow Priest was trying to correct. Like the others of his brethren, he too had wanted his life back, and was thankful when the New Dawn had come and he had found himself with a heartbeat again. He would not refuse such a gift regardless of where it had come from. His own faith, the Cult of Forgotten Shadow did not eschew the Light as much as it understood its proper place in the great scheme of things, as a counterbalance to the Void.

Before the plague, he too had been a Priest in the service of the Church of Light in Lordaeron's Cathedral. He understood the Light better than most, even when it appeared the Light had forsaken them alongside everyone else who had abandoned them. But waking up in undeath had exposed him to the truth of the dark beauty of the Shadow as well. It was a lesson which the New Dawn had not taken from him, even if his faith and that of his fellow clergymen in the Shadow was now no longer welcome in Lordaeron.

The Queen had made that extraordinarily clear not long after the preacher's resurrection. The change in his beloved majesty had been, quite literally, from night to day, and it pained him to see her rejecting the beautiful, holy darkness which had sustained them for so long.

Like the Priesthood here, he and his brothers too had lost their ability to command the Light not long after Jeshua's ascension. He too had seen the man raise high up into the sky and erupt like an exploding sun. He was well aware of Jeshua's genuine authority and connection to the Light. He had seen Jeshua for what he really was. They all had. And for that reason they had used their free will to turn away from his message and from him. When they did, the Light had been closed off to them.

It hadn't been as difficult for the Forgotten Shadow to put the pieces together as it still seemed to be for the Church of Light. A rejection of Jeshua was a rejection of the Light. They had figured that out quickly. But unlike the Church here, it had bothered them little. They had been used to being estranged from the Holy Light. They had come to prefer the bittersweet embrace of the Darkness instead.

The Light was attempting to overpower the Shadow once and for all and had found a way to set it in motion. The Shadow Priest couldn't allow that to happen. It would destroy everything they had all fought for regardless of whose side they landed on. He had been loyal to his Queen. In his own way, he still was. He was trying to save her from herself. He would try and save all of them from the Light's new assault.

He watched Laurena carefully as she eventually turned into the Cathedral itself.

Often, sacrifices must be made for the greater good. He thought to himself as he watched her go. Lots of sacrifices.

Later that evening...

The moonless night had been chill as the Stormwind guard patrolled Lion's Rest. He hadn't expected to see too many people out especially this close to the water. For himself, his armor and padded underclothing kept him reasonably warm, if not dry in the mists.

As he made his rounds moving away from the man made waterfalls he noticed a female figure wearing the white and gilded robes of the Cathedral's Priesthood. It wasn't terribly unusual to see one of the priests or priestesses wondering King Varian's memorial for inspiration for a sermon or contemplation, though as it had been approaching midnight the timing wasn't normal.

He chose to discreetly follow her, though didn't want to interrupt her needlessly if she was deep in prayer or something of a spiritual nature. He had a great respect for the clergy and their ways.

As he drew closer, he realized it was the High Priestess Laurena. Strangely, in spite of the cold, she had no cloak or coat on over her vestment robes.

She walked towards the far edge of Lion's Rest and then stopped. The patrolman held his distance respectfully, though his sense of unease grew exponentially with every second.

Then she climbed up on the short protective wall overlooking the sea and the rocks below.

"High Priestess!" The patrolman shouted, and then began to run towards her, his armor clanking as he did so.

The patrolman reached out instinctively as he ran trying to catch her robes, but he was too far from her. He might have been two or three feet. If he had only had a few more seconds.

He was forced to watch helplessly as the High Priestess Laurena stepped off and into the empty misty air and plummeted into the darkness below. Immediately, he ran for help from the other guards patrolling nearby. They in turn, knowing seconds counted, ran straight to the Cathedral to get someone who might be able to retrieve and revive her if they could only reach her in time.

But Stormwind was a big city, and the Cathedral District was still a distance from Lion's Rest. And in the panic and urgency of the emergency, no one saw the dark figure obscured by the shadows several yards away from the scene of the tragedy moving swiftly away from the memorial.

The next morning, Laurena's smashed and broken corpse was retrieved from the rocks beneath, and the whole city was in mourning for their beloved High Priestess. None of them could understand the reason for her sudden and inexplicable suicide.