Infernos rose from their impact craters one after another, swinging their burning fists and tearing gap after gap through the Alliance battle lines.
Rolling black smoke billowed upward, nearly blotting out the entire sky.
"Damn it—!"
Turalyon raised his longsword as the Holy Light blazed around him. Leading his armored warhorse, he was just about to charge forward and tear those infernals apart—
"Look out—!"
Alleria Windrunner's dragonhawk swept in from the flank. Turalyon looked up and saw a torrent of shadowflame pouring down from even higher in the heavens.
Alleria's dragonhawk extended its talons, seized his shoulder armor, and yanked him off the saddle. The warhorse was reduced to charred ash within the shadowflame, unable to even let out a final neigh.
The black smoke dispersed.
In the sky, dozens of black dragons blotted out the sun.
Their vast wings spread wide, their pitch-black scales gleaming with a dark crimson luster beneath the fel light. Every beat of their wings stirred foul winds thick with the scent of blood.
The one leading them was the largest of all. Its wingspan alone could cover half the sky. Opening its maw filled with jagged fangs, it unleashed another stream of shadowflame, carving a scorched trench straight through the Sons of Lothar's defensive line.
The black dragons had arrived.
...
Vereesa Windrunner opened her eyes groggily.
At the final moment before the fall, the dragonhawk had protected her.
Its wings had wrapped around her body as the massive beast plowed through the dense ranks of orcs, carving a gruesome trail of mangled flesh before finally crashing into the mountainside.
More than a dozen orc corpses had been crushed beneath its body.
The dragonhawk's eyes were still open, but the golden pupils had already lost their focus. Warm blood spread out from beneath its body, soaking half of Vereesa's clothes.
She crawled out from beneath the dragonhawk's corpse.
There was a wound on her temple. Blood poured from it, covering her left eye. She wiped it away with her sleeve, smearing half her face red in the process.
Something had slashed her right leg. It hurt when she walked, but the bone was not broken.
She flexed her fingers experimentally.
They could still move.
The orcs were closing in.
A black tide surged toward her from every direction.
Blood still dripped from their battle axes. Shreds of flesh hung from the fangs of their dire wolves.
They looked at her the way one might look at a bird trapped inside a cage.
Vereesa raised her bow.
The first arrow pierced straight through the throat of a roaring orc.
The second nailed itself into the palm of a warlock in the middle of casting a spell. The Shadow Bolt exploded in his hand, blasting him into pieces.
The third. The fourth. The fifth—
Every arrow found its mark with flawless precision. For a moment, not a single orc dared step forward again.
Those green-skinned monsters halted before the corpses. Some took a step back. Others tightened their grip on their axes yet still did not dare advance.
They stared at this blood-soaked high elf.
They stared into those sky-blue eyes burning like flames.
"Come on!" Vereesa's voice was hoarse yet razor-sharp. "I am the arrow of Quel'Thalas! I am the Windrunner's shot—I will pierce every one of your filthy throats!"
Her voice echoed through the mountain cliffs, and for a moment, it truly intimidated the surrounding orcs.
A towering orc centurion shoved his way through the crowd, roaring in Orcish as he threatened the others to advance.
Vereesa reached back instinctively—
Only to discover that her quiver was already empty.
She turned around and began to climb.
The cliff was so steep it was nearly vertical. Her fingers dug into cracks in the rock while the tips of her boots searched for every tiny protrusion that could support her weight. Pressing herself tightly against the freezing stone face, she climbed upward.
Higher.
And higher.
She was almost at the top of the cliff.
Her fingers had already reached the jagged stone ledge jutting out along the edge.
A Shadow Bolt exploded above her.
The stone ledge shattered from the impact, broken rocks slipping from beneath her fingertips.
Her body tilted backward. She grasped desperately at empty air—
And caught nothing but wind.
She fell.
In midair, she looked back over the entire battlefield.
A portal had already opened behind the orc lines. The enormous green vortex resembled another upright Dark Portal, with demons pouring endlessly out from within.
Infernos swung their massive arms, crushing scorched trails through the Alliance battle lines.
The black dragons' shadowflame intertwined overhead into a vast net of black fire. Every breath attack carved burning trenches across the earth.
Farther away, flashes of Holy Light flickered on and off like a lantern on the verge of being extinguished amid a raging storm.
She looked down at the gathering orcs beneath her.
They raised their heads and lifted their battle axes high.
They were waiting for her to fall, like hunters waiting for ripe fruit to drop from a branch.
Suddenly, Vereesa thought of Allen.
Was he doing well back in Dalaran?
Taking Stella and the others with him, did he still have enough money?
Were there shameless women crowding around him...?
Had he written her any letters?
Had her letter been sent out? Did he receive it? Would he reply?
Did he ever think about her…?
If only she had spoken to him a little longer during their last farewell.
If only she had written all the things she wanted to say in yesterday's letter.
If only—
Allen, I'm sorry. I can't give you the remaining payment for protecting Dalaran anymore.
She closed her eyes.
The howling wind roared past her ears, stretching the sensation of weightlessness into an endless, endless silence.
Then the memories surged forth like leaves scattered by the wind, fluttering one by one out from the depths of her mind—
"Uh, I came from Baldur's Gate. Just call me Allen."
"Honorable warrior, greetings. I am Allen Prestor of the Kingdom of Alterac, and this is my attendant, Wren."
"Uncle Wren, I bought you a pair of gloves. How many days have you been wearing those old ones already? Aren't they filthy?"
"Next, I'm going to bring justice to these victims. I'll personally kill that bastard... Stalvan Mistmantle."
"Morgan, I know that for you, the most important thing is pursuing justice. But if you can still protect your wife and daughter while pursuing justice, that's what true strength is."
"Don't worry, Stella. I'll definitely help you make a fortune."
"Oh? What's going on here? How did you all know to come pick me up? Telepathy?"
"Varian! You're finally awake! Hurry up and get up already—Stormwind's about to turn upside down!"
Ah, why...
Why were all the things she remembered before death nothing but Allen's promises to others? Nothing but the moments when Allen had saved other people?
As for her and Allen—
There were only countless ordinary moments. Trivial, mundane days.
I...
Vereesa opened her eyes once more. While falling, she twisted her body around to face the orcs waiting below with their heads raised.
Her hand gripped the dagger at her waist.
I don't want to die. I absolutely will not die. I still haven't—
Roaring in fury, Vereesa gripped the dagger in her hand and slashed downward at the surrounding orcs like a falling meteor.
"DIEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!"
The instant her dagger came crashing down alongside her furious scream—
BOOM!!!!!
A bolt of thunder descended from the heavens.
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