I Do not Own either World of Warcraft nor Harry Potter. Anything that you may recognize do not belong to me.

I would like to say that this is my first story, and that English is not my first language.

AU for Both WOW and Harry Potter, OOC probable.

Chapter 3

'Come forth my friend, and tell me of your plan.'

The powerful voice of an old troll rang through the stiffening air of Grommash Hold. The speaker was seated in the massive throne across the room, his chest was only partially covered by a wooden shoulder guard and a leather belt running from his left shoulder to his right hip. This was Vol'Jin, the chieftain of the Darkspear Trolls and current Warchief of the Horde. There was a sense of deep weariness in his tone, the past few month had taken their tolls on the Shadow Hunter. The reckless and violent actions of Garrosh Hellscream had not only further weakened the fragile cease fire his people had with the Alliance, but had also nearly torn the Horde apart. The murder of Cairn Bloodhoof had put a strain on their relations with the Tauren, and he himself would have left the Horde had it not been for the reassurance of his friend Thrall.

Now, few months later, a semblance of stability had returned, but the situation with the alliance was still on the edge : one wrong move would pull the whole of Azeroth in a fiery and bloody war. But the spirit were more restless than ever. They whispered of change and time, laughed and cried in warning to some unspeakable events. Vol'Jin had no doubt that the reason for this laid in the matter his old friend had brought up : Garrosh Hellscream, the previous Warchief had used the power of the Bronze Dragonflight to transport to an alternate timeline of Draenor. In his folly, the young Orc had stirred up ghosts that belonged to the past. No one knew for sure what was happening in the homeland of the Orcs but the little that was known did not bode well. Garrosh had convinced his father and Blackhand to refuse the demon blood offered by Gul'Dan, and had created his own faction, that he had dubbed the Iron Horde. While that in itself was not so problematic, as it meant that this Draenor would not know the corruption of the Fel and turn in the wasteland that were the Outlands, initial reports indicated that Garrosh meant to bring the Iron Horde to Azeroth. Worse yet, the arrogant Warchief had foolishly thought that he could control Gul'dan, and had opted to let him live in order to channel his formidable power. But the Shadow Council had not been idle and quickly freed their leader. And now the Harbinger of the Legion was biding his time, preparing for the arrival of his masters.

'Warchief Vol'Jin', started Thrall in a respectful manner, 'Thank you for your time. As you know the Traitor Hellscream took refuge in our homeland. Thankfully without the corruption that Gul'dan spread in our timeline, the spirits of Nature still hold sway within this Draenor. By communing with them I was able to gather some precious information, as well as to communicate with Drek'Thar, the one who taught me the ways of the Shaman. It was agreed that he would welcome us within the land of the Frostwolf Clan, should we manage to reach it.'

The power that Thrall had been bestowed when he became the Earth Warden truly was awe inspiring. The new leader of the Earthen circle was wearing a hooded white robe and heavy chains around his wrists and hips. The legendary Doomhammer was by his side, the very fact that he was allowed to bring a weapon within the Grommash Hold despite not being one of the Leader of the Horde spoke worlds of the respect he still commanded in Ogrimmar. But despite the calm and immovable facade that he projected, Vol'Jin could see the burning hatred that was hiding behind the eyes of his old friend at the mention of Garrosh. The murder of Cairne had cut Thrall deeply.

'Some of my informants have reported that the Alliance will launch a similar expedition in hope to help the Drainei that still reside in Draenor. We have issued a treaty of mutual non aggression for the duration of our arrival. The few informations passed down from the party composing the first invading forces of the Horde during the First War indicate that the Dark Portal was situated in the Tanaan Jungle. Unfortunately we will not able to rely on what is known of the geography, fauna and flora from the Outland, as reports state that Draenor was significantly different. Once we have crossed the Portal, we will destroy it in order to delay the invasion of Azeroth by the Iron Horde. Then, we will separate from the Alliance Party and reach Frostfire Ridge by boat. If luck will have it we will be able to convince the Frostwolf clan to rise up against Garrosh, and we will then proceed to rally as many clans and people from all over Draenor to form an opposing force against the Iron Horde.'

'A sound plan, I have to say. But why the cloak and dagger artifice? We have the man power and technology to defeat Garrosh should we send a larger force to attack him directly, and we would not risk the possibility that he gains more strength through more of his unspeakable rituals.'

It was Lor'Themar Theron that had spoken. The regent of Quel'Thalas truly embodied the strength that had made the High Elves a feared race during millennia. His one green eye shone with a sharp intelligence and his powerful stature easily intimidated lesser men.

'True, we could probably defeat Garrosh as he is now.' Started Thrall, 'But all is not what it seems. Garrosh is no Gul'Dan, and he failed to unite all of the Orc under his banner. Some Clans oppose him openly while many others remain neutral. However an invading party the likes you think of would without a doubt turn all of the people of Draenor against us, and we risk pushing some if not all clans within the Iron Horde. Worse case scenario, if Garrosh becomes truly desperate, it is still possible that he turns toward an alliance with the Shadow Council. No, if we want to bring Hellscream to justice, we can only act in small ways, and defer to the existing clans. Draenor must free itself.'

There was truth in the words of the shaman, pondered Vol'Jin. Still the instinct developed in countless years of conflict screamed at him a warning. Silently asking the spirits for guidance, the Warchief finally spoke.

'Very well, my friend. I will allow you to issue a summon for our more experienced warriors and adventurers in the name of the Horde. You will have a partial access to our vaults to finance this crusade. However, it is expected of you to claim for the Horde whatever territories that is available, and a portion of the war loot that you may recover will be paid in tribute. Furthermore, do remember that you may be the leader of the Earthen Circle now, but you are still a figure head of the Horde. Any action that you take will have repercussion on the Horde. Therefor It is not needed to warn you not to do anything that could alienate foreign people, or worsen relation that we already have.'

The message was clear : we are on the brick of war, so do not create any more tension with the Alliance. Still, Thrall bowed his head in acceptance to the old troll's demand. They were, after all, similar to those he had put forward during his time as Warchief, whenever one of his vassals asked for the support of his Horde. With a breath of relief, Thrall retreated from his place in front of the Throne and returned between Varok Saurfang and Lor'Themar. His eyes roamed to room, as he had done a hundred time since he assumed leadership of the New Horde, more than fifteen years ago. He saw with pride that Baine Bloodhoof stood tall where his father had once stood, and although the weight of the chieftain position had aged him somewhat, he had managed to rally quite expertly his people. The Marchand Prince Gallywix was obnoxiously eyeing the rich decorations of the Grommash Hold. Lor'Themar stood impassively, not one hair out of place, looking utterly bored and not in the least concerned by what was to him, fleeting threats that would disappear in the blink of his immortal eye. But what really drew his attention was Sylvanas. She was, as usual, wearing the crimson hood decorated with skulls, her trusty bow was tightly held by her side, and the same air of impatience loomed around her. But today a rare occurence had happened : the Banshee Queen had invited Nathanos to join them in the meeting. While the leaders were allowed to bring their advisors to a meeting of chieftains, tradition had decreed that it was an exceptional event. Lastly the attention of the former ranger was firmly placed on the Warchief. In an ideal world, such a thing would be the norm for one of the major Vassal of the Horde, but all knew of the legendary phlegm the Banshee Queen displayed during meetings, her desire to bolt out of Orgimmar back to the Bowel of Undercity was just as much an aspect of the Horde as the unforgiving territories of Durotar. That was the reason why the almost eager look in her red eyes was almost out of place. And sure enough, as soon as the subject of Draenor's expedition was closed, Sylvanas spoke.

'If you would allow me, Warchief, I would like to address this council.'

The surprise in the room was palpable. Six and a half pair of eyes turned toward the Dark Lady, wondering what sort of world shattering matter could force the aloof blonde to voice herself in a reunion of Chieftain.

'As you all know, it has now been fifteen years since Arthas' sway over us undead wavered and resulted in the formation of the group now known as the Forsaken. It had always been our goal to put an end to the tyranny of the Lich King. Entering the Horde was at the time a simple way of surviving and gaining protection against those that would seek to prevent us from accomplishing our Goal. However as time went on, I have watched as the Forsaken found a place amongst the people of the Horde, as they learned and taught, and embraced what it truly meant to be apart of this Faction. As you know I have had much to ponder after the fall of the Icercrown. From new allies, to betrayals and war.'

None could have missed the grave tone of Sylvanas' speech. Curiosity rose within Vol'Jin as he considered the former High Elf. From the moment he had met her, the spirits were raging in her presence. At first the Warchief had thought that it was because of her statut of undead, but he had then met many more forsaken and none had provoked such a reaction from the realm of the shadows. And now it seemed that, if had guessed correctly, the Horde would undergo a transformation once more.

'It is hard for us who are dead to remain a part of this world. It is constantly changing while we endure, and remain the same with the passage of seasons. And so, if we wish to go forward, to strive as a people and civilisation, We cannot stay frozen, separated from the rest of Azeroth. That is why I have felt that it was time for a change in Undercity. I have dealt with it with my advisors and made every affairs in order. It is time for the undead to start evolving, starting with the Leadership; I will desist as queen of the Forsaken and leave my place to my champion, Nathanos.'

Sylvanas watched, honestly amused by the shocked faces of her peers. Behind her, she felt Nathanos stiffened, apparently still unused to his new position.

Flashback

'You have called for me, my Lady?' the voice of her champion made her look up from the agonizingly long paperwork she was dealing with.

'I have yes. Walk with me, Nathanos.'

The pair of former rangers walked for a while in silence, following the sickly green waters of Undercity. The capital was bursting with movement, a party forming probably by ambitious adventurers wishing to conquer whatever mysteries they might find in Pandaria. They eventually reached a place overlooking the central part of her city.

'Do you ever miss it, Nathanos?'

'My Lady?'

'Time. Mortality. Whatever you wish to call it. Do you ever miss that feeling of finality that pushed you to be better, to adapt? I had often wondered why you, a mere human, no matter how talented you were, had managed to complete in a mere decade what some Elf spend life times accomplishing. It is only recently that it hit me. It is because you knew that your life was but a fleeting moment that you strived every day to be better than the last. That you would rush through life, and value it so, because you knew it would soon end.'

'Ah… Yes I do see what you mean. If I was to be honest, my Lady, then yes. After all, knowing that something will end was the very thing that made it valuable. Time was precious and it is that shortage that pushes human and mortal races to grow ever more through the generations. But I have found in our people, their security and prosperity , a motivation just as powerful as the fear of death.'

Sylvanas smiled at her student's answer. It was perfect. Nathanos was not only one of the few she had a complete trust to, he was also the one with the vision necessary to take over her burden.

'I have ruled over the Forsaken for a decade and a half now, my old apprentice. Some of my charges have known my rule for just as long as they have known the one of Terenas. I would like to think that I have done my part in what I hope will be the long Story of the Forsaken.'

Sylvanas watched in barely concealed glee as Nathanos went, as close as a non-breathing undead could, in hyperventilation. His horrified expression alone made her regret not having stepped down years sooner.

'I have watched with pride as you learned our ways and skills, and I have no doubt that you will rise to the challenge that poses Leadership. Your values and vision are what is needed for our people to reach their full potential. In a month from now the Leaders of the Horde will convene, and I will then announce my abdication. And then, my friend, you, will be King.'

Flashback ends

It had taken quite a bit of meetings and concessions to insure the legitimacy of Nathanos' future rule. In a whole, most of her direct advisors and heads of state had accepted the idea fairly quickly. But it was to one particular encounter that Sylvanas' mind kept coming back to.

Flashback

She had just finished the meeting in which she announced her plan to leave the Leadership of the Forsaken. All the guild masters and heads of departments had hurried back to their stronghold in order to prepare for the impending changes. Only one figure had remained behind, and the banshee Queen could feel the weight of their gaze.

'Do you object my choice, Sif?' asked Sylvanas to the leader of her Val'kir. 'I promised you and your people a place amongst the Forsaken in exchange for your services. Does me leaving change this accord?'

'…It will not' came the raspy voice of the maiden. 'If we follow you today, it is not out necessity or obligation, but respect. You are one of the rare mortals to have caught the attention of our Master. You do not realize how rare your existence is. In all my memories, no more than a handful have refused the temptation our Lord brings with his deals'

Morbid fascination swept through her being as the realization came to her. For the first time in nigh twenty years, another voice than hers had mentioned her little demon. The maiden of Death in front of her knew of, and visibly answered to in some way, what she had long since convinced herself was a figment of her imagination.

'I know what you think of, my Lady.' continued Sif, 'We are in servitude of another. However I assure you that is of no consequences. We may be connected to him in a way most creature could not comprehend, however never before has he interacted with us. Or any other sentient creature under his dominion, that I know of.'

'Who is he? What does he want? Tell me!', demanded Sylvanas

'Names and titles have power, my queen. I dare not utter his, for fear of attracting unwanted attention. However I will tell you this : he is a tester. He wanders this world as he did countless others. He seeks those who catch his fancy. Sometimes he punishes, other times he rewards. None, to my knowledge, have received the same test, and none of his deals are what they appear to be. You have been touched by his Magic, yet have refused him. If you passed your test or not, I do not know. I doubt he himself knows. However there is no doubt in my mind that you will encounter him again. When you do, be wary of your language. He does not lie, never. But nothing is what it appears to be.'

Well that was ominous. If Sylvanas was not concerned before, that certainly did the trick. There was something deeply disturbing in a seeing a creature capable of reaching the world of the beyond wary of a being. Still, she was a huntress. A ranger. She did not cower from a challenge, she would rise up to it, and when the moment would come she would meet this devil with her head held high.

'You do not have to worry though. We will continue to honor our agreement with the Forsaken. The Val'kir have found a new home here, and will follow your successor until the time comes when our services are no longer wanted.'

Flashback ends

The calm had returned to meeting as all the other chieftains were pondering her decision, measuring the implication of such a change. Finally, Vol'Jin addressed Sylvanas

'This is quite a big decision, Windrunner. One that the Spirits cannot assess unanimously. It is no secret that amongst the people of the Horde, the Forsaken have always held a unique place. For some reasons that could not be helped, and other where the blame lies on both parties. I will have to ask you, what is it that you will do after your departure?'

'It is a question that have plagued me for a long time, Warchief. I realize that many of my actions and inactions have hurt the Horde, both in its core and in its standing. The rebellion of Varimathras and the invasion of Gilneas, have exacerbated our rapports with some of our ennemies. It is my hope that me leaving will allow the new Forsaken to gain a new standing amongst both our allies and enemies. There are a few things I must find out, about myself and the world. I hope to continue serving the Horde as an adventurer in the party formed with Thrall to Draenor, for the time being. Once I find what I was looking for, I will either remain an emissary for the Forsaken in the future campaigns or return to Undercity where I will either teach my craft, or if they will have me, serve as an advisor.'

Silently acquiescing the leader of the Trolls turned to his predecessor to see if he would like to comment on this new development. Understanding his friend's intentions, Thrall spoke.

'You obviously have spend much time maturing this decision, Sylvanas. If it is your wish, we should honor it and simply thank you for all you have done for the Horde along the years. I would be honored to count you as one of my comrade in arms in the incoming campaign.'

Understanding that no more was needed to be said, the former ranger of Quel'Thalas smiled and headed toward the door of Fort Grommash, leaving the bewildered leadership of the Horde behind. So captivated by the feeling of adventure that swelled in her chest, she did not even register the tingling of her skin as the sun warmed her.

Blood pulsing in her head, Jaina ran through the door of her room in the Violet Citadel. Rage ran through her veins as the last few hours were replayed behind her eyes. How dare that pathetic old man defy her? Khadgar must have been corrupted by the foul energy of the Outlands, that was the only explanation. She had grown up hearing of the tales of Khadgar, the powerful mage that defeated the Guardian at the cost of his youth, and proceed to fight the Horde back to their Homeworld, sacrificing his life in the process.

When words reached her that he had survived and was found still living beyond the Great Portal, she had been thrilled. Hopes of peace between the races swelled, she had hoped that this wise mage, the inheritor of the legendary line of Guardian would be able to guide them, and bring order back to Azeroth.

She scoffed, disgusted by her naivety. There would be no peace with mindless, violent creatures. And Khadgar was too weak to see what needed to be done. He refused to take the mantel of the Master of Karazhan. She herself had tried to become the latest guardian before joining Varian in the Siege of Ogrimmar. The Alliance would need all the power they could get, but clearly Medivh's loyalty to the Horde perdured even in death. His shadow had refused to infuse her with the power of his Line. Called her filthy, and twisted.

Feeling the now familiar pain and nausea, Jaina rushed to a hidden compartiment behind a wall. There, she took a small vial filled with clear liquid, almost looking like liquid silver. She gulped it in one sip, its retched taste leaving barely any unpleasantness on her damaged tastebuds. As usual, the potion calmed the pain of the attack, but did nothing to soothe the deep unease in her core. She needed more and more of the potion, more and more often. She soon would have to return to Northend to gather more supplies for her batch.

Still she headed tiredly toward a table on which a multitude of old leather books laid. She knew that the subject of her research was outright banned from the Kirin Tor, but time was not to half measures. The answer to her problem was in one of these books, and she would find it. The fate of the Alliance and of all that was good on Azeroth depended on her power to protect them from the Horde.

'You won't find it here, you know?'

As soon as the word rang through the room, Jaina had sprung up, a deadly spell at the tip of her tongue, ready to smite whomever risked to attack her in her own room. Her eyes darted across the empty room, searching for the source of… her own voice?

'I am right here. I would greatly appreciate it if you did not send that nasty spell my way, but honestly I could hardly blame you. I wish I could say it was the first time a witch tried to curse me out of her room, but it happens more time that you would think'

Finally the Jaina's eyes fell to her full size mirror that ornate the back of her door, facing her. Silently calling on her magic to determine wether she was really visited or if her tormented mind was playing games on her. Acknowledging that there was indeed a foreign presence in her room, she simply could not comprehend the nature of her visitor.

In front of her, in her mirror, she saw… herself. Or more accurately she recognized herself. Her ivory hair were full and fell in luscious locks on her shoulders instead of the pasty, dry ones that she knew she actually had. Her reflection's skin had a perfect porcelain color, and her lips were full and red, quirked in a confident smirk. She held herself with confidence and grace. All in all, Jaina felt oddly inadequate compared to her alter ego, feeling dried up and stretched in her skin. But the major difference was that instead of her baby blue eyes, her mirror self had emerald eyes that completed the appearance of a powerful witch.

'Who are you?' demanded Jaina to her mirror, approaching it warily.

'Well I would have thought that was obvious. I am You. Or more accurately I have assumed a form in this mirror of a version of you that could have been. But if you are asking me Who I am, I fail to see what good a name would do you without a face to attach it to. No, no. The correct question would be WHAT I am.'

Great. Whoever visited her was an annoying riddler thinking they are so smart being as vague and cryptic as possible. Must be Mage, she mused silently.

'What are you then, Aliame?'

'Why my dear… I am the answer to all of your prayers', Her reflection answered, an unreadable twinkle in her eyes.

Jaina's blood ran cold as she heard the answer from her alter ego. There was no way that anyone knew of her quest, she had been so careful. Yet…

'I have to admit…', the apparition in the glass said, 'White is a good colour on you. And kudos on the Mana Bomb excuse. I would have just claimed a change of style, but nothing beats hair changing trauma I guess. Lucky every one bought it too, I would not want to be you if word of your dealings got out. Still, I of all people recognize the corruption that Necromancy can have on a user's body…'

'I… I do not you what you are talking about…' Jaina was now terrified by this creature.

'DO NOT LIE TO ME !' The voice from the mirror roared suddenly, the other Jaina's face twisted with rage. The background in the mirror burst into flames but as soon as it came, calm returned. The one she had dubbed Aliame seemed sheepish when she continued. 'I am sorry about that. I should not have yelled. You have nothing to fear from me. I have no intention of turning you in, nor do I judge you for your actions'.

This was bad. If some complete stranger could see through her, how long until others did? She knew that already her fellow archmages conspired against her, no doubt biding their time until they strike. Even Kalec could not be trusted, not with this. He would seek to hold her down, to keep her from achieving her goal. But this strange being, it seemed so understanding. Its voice was soothing, and felt like cool water on her dried skin.

'I mean, the others, they would not understand. But you were alone, in the middle of enemy territories. You needed power, no matter the consequences. And you, you were strong. You would not succumb to the madness of this power, like so many others did before you. You made the right decision, the one that was needed to protect your people. No matter the cost, as a true leader should'

Hope swelled in the leader of Kirin Tor has she was lulled by the entrancing voice. Yes, she was right to do it. She had the right to do it. Finally, someone that understood her, that saw what she saw, that agreed with her vision.

'But the threat came too quickly. You did not have the time to master this new magic. And so, Theramore was destroyed. But that did not stop you. You strived forward and kept on studying death magic. But you were very astute. You manage to delay the decaying of your body quite well. But you can not outrun the consequences of necromancy forever.'

Jaina's mind was filled with the hypnotic quality of the speech. The guilt and doubt weighting in the back of her mind were lifted by the compassion in Aliame's voice.

'Your hair were just the first step was it not? Yes, I can see it within you. The burning, ever-present rage in your being. Tell me, have the hallucinations started yet? Have you waken up somewhere, with no idea what you were doing or how you got there? Have the whispers begun to twist your thoughts, has paranoia isolated you from your loved ones? But you did not stop. Tell me, what do you seek to accomplish, if you could truly master Necromancy? Your city has fallen, your motivation to gain power is no more…'

'If… If I can truly control Necromancy, then it would not matter. Rhonin, Antonidas, Arthas, and all the people of Theramore that lost their lives, I could bring them back! And then, with the true power over the Dead, I could protect Theramore and the Kirin Tor against the Horde and all those that would not take action against them!'

'Yes. Necromancy could take you far on the road to greatness. But you and I both know that your soul and your body will have decayed long before you gain sufficient mastery over the craft to achieve your goals. Unless… I were to help you.'

'You… You could help me? I did not find any answer in the knowledge attained by the Kirin Tor, and the access to Karazhan's library was barred to me. Kel'Thuzad probably took all the tomes pertaining necromancy when he betrayed us.'

'hmmm…' hummed Aliame, turning a little within her frame. She opened her twinkling green eyes and slyly looked over to Jaina. She then lifted her hand, and her palm was magically cut opened by an invisible blade. Blood fell from the wound but did not fall to the ground, it hovered a few inches below her hand. The red liquid seemed to coagulate into a mineral, and within a few seconds, a scarlet, irregular stone was snatched form the air by a now completely healed hand. The magical apparition appraised her work before speaking. 'This, is a sorcerer stone. From it, you will be able to extract what is called the Elixir of Life. This elixir will keep your body from the damages of times, diseases, magic or sword, healing even the most grievous wounds. You will be able to practice Necromancy without to ever have to worry about being corrupted by the arcanes ever again.'

The Archmage leader of the Six was thrown away by the claims of her alter ego. She could feel the magic in her voice, indicating that what was said was the truth. No matter who it was, no one can lie while infusing their voice with magic. It was a known fact that this creature exploited to prouve the veracity of his claims. It was there. Every thing she had dreamt of, the object of her obsession for months. Just within her reach.

'Of course, such a treasure is not free. You desire this stone in order to master the magic of the Dead. But necromancy is incompatible with the domain of Alexstrasza. If you desire this stone, you will have to renounce any connection to the Life Binder, now and forever.'

A vicious smirk appeared on Jaina's face as she heard the one condition that this benevolent giver was asking for. Fire burned behind her now icy blue eyes.

'Ah! If that is all that you require, your proposition is not that difficult to accept! I, Jaina Proudmoore, Archmage of the Kirin Tor, renounce to bow to Alexstrasza, the Life Binder. I relinquish her gifts and object to her rule! So mote it be.'

As soon as her pledge was said, the mirror Jaina smiled cruelly, as the reflection of her room aged visibly, dust accumulated, stone walls fell, and all light disappeared.

'It was a pleasure doing business with you, Jaina Proudmoore.'

Aliame slipped the stone within her pocket, before an intense green light exploded, blinding Jaina. As soon as she opened her eyes, she was staring at her own reflection, no trace of the apparition, not even residual magic within the mirror. She could have believed she had dreamt the encounter if she did not feel the unfamiliar weight in her pocket.

Shakily she reached down, and her fingers closed around the cool surface of a magnificent blood red stone. Elation filled her as she magically vanished all the books on her table with a swipe of her hand. Experienced in alchemy, Jaina made quick work of the task at hand, and within the hour she held a concentrated extract of the essence of the stone. The liquid hummed with power, there was no doubt in her mind that this was the genuine Elixir of Life. Hesitating only for a moment, her eyes found the painting of a sunrise over Theramore, hung on her wall. Raising the vial to the reminder of her city, she downed it.

The effect were instantaneous. Energy filled her, she could feel the magic restoring her muscles, her hair and skin lost their dry looks and appeared healthy and perfect, just like they were months ago. But most of all, the haze that had clouded her mind lifted instantly, and the gravity of the situation hit her full force.

She had never meant to let things go so far. Her interest in necromancy was at first a simple way for her to try and understand what Arthas had gone through. But somehow, every time she touched this magic, the temptation to touch it once more was more powerful, her temper seem to rise more quickly, she started to doubt every one, even her friends. Suddenly she seemed to forget all that she had learned, and only mastering new powers over the dead was on her mind. But now that she had been restored by the Elixir of Life, she could see how arrogant and reckless she had been. Necromancy had almost consumed her like it consumed the former Prince of Lordaeron. She had forgotten to care for her people, the same way and for the same reason as the Lich King had.

But it was the encounter with the creature that had offered her the stone that occupied her mind now, and filled her with worry. A vague memory of a warning about a green eyed demon taking the face of a young boy came to mind. He would present himself and offer whatever his prey desired. But he would extract a terrible price, that, more often than not resulted in the death of the person.

Nausea came. She had sworn off Alexstrasza. To her knowledge, no one had done so before. She needed to speak to Kalec, maybe he could interfere to his queen in her name. Maybe it was not to late to return to the favor of the Red Dragon Queen. As she rose to her feet, she frowned when she felt moisture on the ground. Yes, a red sticky liquid was tainting her floor. Wondering where blood was coming from, Jaina's eyes rose toward the mirror that she had spoke to not an hour prior, and a sob escaped.

The full comprehension of the consequences of her deal came. For the Elixir of Life, she had renounced the rule of the Life Binder, and all of her gifts. And now, her once pure white robe was tainted red from the waist down, as her ability to give life was drained from her body. Unable to think or do anything, Jaina's knee failed her and she fell to the floor, weeping.

Chapter End

Thank you for all of you that reviewed.

Jaina calls the form that Harry takes to appear to her 'Aliame' which is a contraction of 'Alia me', 'other me', in Latin (I think)