"No! Arthas, don't pick up that sword!"
"This is my destiny, Jaina."
Cracked ice shards pierced through Jaina's magical shield and body. She fell to the ground, covered in blood. Arthas, holding the longsword that emanated a strange aura, knelt beside her, performing one last healing spell.
Alas, it was all in vain. Jaina ultimately took her last breath in Arthas's arms due to excessive blood loss.
As she lost consciousness and plunged into darkness, the last words she heard were from Arthas:
"I'm sorry Jaina… but I have no choice."
—Whoosh!!
Jaina abruptly propped herself up from the bed. Her silk quilt slowly slid off, revealing the female Archmage in a white undergarment, sitting up against the headboard, her forehead covered in cold sweat.
"Was that… a nightmare?" Jaina held her hand to her forehead, her thoughts still lingering in the nightmare she had just experienced.
I dreamt of Arthas? The snowy weather and cold wind outside… He and I were together in Northrend? Where was that cave, and what was that sword!
One question after another appeared in Jaina's mind. The dream just now felt incredibly real; Jaina could even feel the pain and cold of ice shards piercing her body as they shattered and flew.
Of course, what impressed Jaina the most was the runeblade shrouded in an evil aura. Blue flames burned in the hollow eyes of the goat-headed demon on the sword's hilt. Just one glance made one feel as if their soul would be sucked away.
"No… something's not right…" Jaina put on a coat and paced around the cabin room. The familiar sound of waves on the sea, far from calming her, only intensified her anxiety.
Such extremely realistic dreams in the field of magic carry significant prophetic meaning. An Archmage with ample mana and a sound mind would not have such nightmares without reason.
Jaina was about to recall the specific environmental features of the dream, but she found that she had no impression of them at all. The only things she could remember were herself, Arthas, and that runeblade.
"Arthas…"
…
"Arthas, are you sure it's a good idea for us to leave the camp like this?" Brann Bronzebeard was also a bit bewildered. He thought he was bold enough, but Arthas actually led a few of his personal guards and charged directly into the snowy plains.
"Don't worry, Brann, I have a teleportation scroll that will definitely get us out."
"Based on my many years of experience, teleportation scrolls are… uh, not always that effective most of the time." Brann Bronzebeard had been adventuring for so many years; what kind of storms hadn't he seen? Teleportation scrolls malfunctioning was a common occurrence.
"Don't tell me you're using old stock from the Ironforge inventory…" Arthas had never encountered a teleportation scroll malfunctioning, unless the teleportation was forcibly locked down by someone, but there weren't many people on Azeroth who could do that now, at least Mal'Ganis couldn't.
"How can you call it old stock? It's only a Dalaran scroll from fifty years ago."
"Fifty years?! Don't you know that this type of standard teleportation scroll has a shelf life of at most fifteen years? I think you're incredibly lucky to still be alive!" Arthas was also shocked when he heard this. This professional adventurer actually dared to use a magical product that was more than thirty years past its expiration date?
Was he not afraid that the teleportation scroll wouldn't completely fail, but only teleport his upper or lower body away?
Brann's old face flushed, and he stammered, "Ahem, the Explorer's League's funding is a bit tight."
"I remember the Explorer's League was spearheaded by King Magni, wasn't it? How could funding be tight?" Arthas thought of a question.
"Muradin led a group of people to Kalimdor for an expedition, and then we also discovered a large ancient ruin complex in Badlands, those ruins are even older than the elves'," Brann explained the reason, "But the Dark Iron Dwarves also discovered it, and our archaeological activities were forced to stop. A large part of the association's funds was used to solve the problems there."
The ruins in Badlands? Arthas didn't expect the Dwarves to have already stumbled upon a part of the truth of creation so early. However, now was not the time to disturb the things slumbering within. After repelling the Undead, killing those damned Dreadlords, and delaying the Burning Legion's advance, Arthas would consider contacting those ancient "antiques" left behind.
The snowy plains of Dragonblight seemed boundless, everything was a vast expanse of white, with only distant mountains and animal carcasses visible.
"Arthas, I think something's wrong," Brann detected a slight anomaly, "It's too quiet here. Even in a snowy plain, there should be wild animals."
The Light's Vengeance, this warhammer chosen from the Silver Hand's armory as Arthas's current weapon, compared to The Power of Menethil, could enhance the wielder's Holy Light power, and when the paladin's emotions became agitated, it would further amplify his Holy Light.
However, Arthas chose it simply because it inherently possessed the ability to amplify Holy Light, and thus could better withstand his overly intense Holy Light than other warhammers.
For now, there was no better substitute. Powerful weapons weren't like cabbages on the ground, found everywhere. Otherwise, Arthas wouldn't risk a direct confrontation with the Dreadlords to seek frostmourne.
All things considered, the difficulty of obtaining frostmourne was already quite low, because the Lich King and the Nathrezim originally intended to use this sword to corrupt Arthas, making it almost a free gift.
But Brann clearly didn't think so. Ever since he heard Arthas talk about frostmourne's abilities, he felt that this sword was a huge hidden danger. But no matter how he tried to persuade him, Arthas insisted on going to see it. To protect his friend's safety, Brann had no choice but to follow him.
After searching the snowy plains for an unknown amount of time, Arthas and the knights also dealt with some wandering Undead. Just as they were about to reach the border of Zul'Drak, the territory of the Frost Troll Empire, Arthas suddenly felt a stirring in his soul.
The wind and snow in Dragonblight suddenly intensified here, and the swirling snowflakes obscured everyone's vision. Everything looked white. Brann pressed down his hat to keep the wind and snow from hitting his face. At this moment, he heard Arthas's words.
"We're here."
"Here? Where are we?" Brann asked loudly. All he could hear was the howling north wind; the Dwarf's loud voice was honed in such an environment.
"Midway to destiny."
Arthas's answer left Brann puzzled, but the Prince didn't give Brann much time to think. He held his warhammer upside down and slowly walked towards the faintly visible mountain edge through the snow that was knee-deep.
The royal knight guards followed closely behind him. Seeing this, Brann had no choice but to keep up.
Gradually, the snow lessened. The first thing that caught Brann's eye was a cave on the side of the mountain. The dark entrance was like a ferocious beast waiting to devour someone. His years of adventuring experience immediately gave Brann a bad premonition.
Brann quickly caught up to Arthas, asking eagerly, "Arthas, where is this?"
"The location of Frostmourne."
"You really came to find this demonic sword?!" Brann exclaimed in alarm, "Are you out of your mind? You know this sword is problematic, and you still want to come?"
"Brann, I'll explain everything to you after this is over," Arthas ordered the royal knights to guard the cave entrance and continued to the Dwarf, "Are you going to come in with me and witness the cursed runeblade, or stay outside with them?"
Brann turned to look at the silent knights, who stood like black statues, and sighed, "I'll still go with you. If anything happens, I can help you out."
The reason Brann was willing to risk himself this time was not his strong curiosity, but his concern and commitment to his friend. A Dwarf would never abandon his friend and flee alone.
"Don't worry, nothing will happen."
Arthas's words didn't reassure Brann much. He still felt that this matter was too strange. Perhaps he had fallen under some curse from the moment he first learned the name frostmourne, it was hard to say.
The two entered the dark cave together. Arthas raised a torch, illuminating the path ahead.
"Hoo~" Brann's breath condensed into icy mist in the air. He noticed that the temperature inside was much lower than outside.
And this cold was different from normal low temperatures. Brann walked for a while and felt even his consciousness slowing down—this cold seemed to have a magical influence, Brann quickly realized this.
"The cave is filled with dark magical power… Arthas, I'm afraid we've come to the wrong place."
After hearing this, Arthas protected Brann with a Holy Light. "I know. Stay close to me. My Holy Light can help you."
"Ha, that feels much better now." With Arthas's Holy Light protection, Brann felt his limbs and mind were no longer stiff, and he was back in top condition.
But he hadn't taken two steps before his nose bumped into Arthas's hard armor. Brann covered his face and stepped back, "I think you'd better tell me before you stop…"
"A little trouble, Brann."
Stopping at the edge of the cliff, Arthas held up the torch and peered down. At the lowest level of the naturally formed circular steps in the cave, he saw a blue glow in the darkness, but at the same time, clusters of light points floated on the path leading to the bottom.
Brann squinted, carefully observing the strange light clusters in the cave, and whispered, "Are those ghosts? Are these the Guardians of Frostmourne?"
"In any case, we might need to prepare for battle, Brann."
This perpetually frozen continent of Northrend is not only a forbidden zone for life but also the location of the "doorway" between the realm of the Undead, Shadowlands, and the material world: further north, at the peak of Icecrown Glacier, is the weakest boundary between the two planes of Shadowlands and the material world.
Attracted by Shadowlands, the souls of all the dead on Azeroth unconsciously gravitate towards Northrend. Coupled with Frostmourne's powerful drawing effect on souls, some souls that should have gone to Shadowlands remained here.
However, Arthas understood that the souls here were not evil spirits. What they were guarding was not this cursed runeblade at all, but the living beings who ventured deep into this cave.
All living beings who entered this place would be driven away by them, lest ignorant people touch Frostmourne and be controlled and cursed by this sword.
Souls themselves are mysterious things, and the perspective of the dead is different from that of normal life. Therefore, they can perceive facts that ordinary people cannot—
The first victim Frostmourne would devour was precisely the first living being to grasp this sword.
Arthas noticed that a considerable number of the ancient spirits beside this sword were in human form. It seemed that these human ancestors had sensed something in the dark and were waiting for his arrival here.
Thinking of this, Arthas handed the warhammer to Brann. Brann looked at Arthas with a surprised expression, wondering why Arthas would do such a thing.
"The Light's Vengeance can amplify Holy Light, but this also means it cannot carry another kind of power." Arthas saw Brann's confusion and explained.
"Another kind of power?"
Brann caught the key phrase in Arthas's words. Just as he was about to ask what it meant, the subsequent change made Brann's pupils contract slightly, and all the hairs on his body stood straight up.
A feeling called "death" seemed to linger in Brann's heart, making him feel as if he was facing the most critical life-and-death moment in his adventure.
The old Dwarf watched with wide eyes as Arthas's golden hair slowly turned into a lifeless pale color. Surging dark magic replaced the warm Holy Light. Under the influence of this power, even Arthas's blue and gold cloak began to change, as if covered by a layer of shadow.
Brann could hardly believe his eyes, but everything was truly happening, causing the Dwarf's hands to grip the warhammer tightly, his muscles tensed. He spoke the next words in a muffled voice from his throat.
"You… Arthas… No, no, no! Who exactly are you?"