Burdens of the Soul

        Nallei had hoped the Ember Court would have been more to her liking. She knew it was not the case the moment they offered her fancy shoes, without so much as taking the time to notice the vastly different footwear needs of the draenei. Nevertheless, she had chosen this covenant, the Venthyr of Revendreth. A vampiric band of pretentious, pompous beings tasked with rehabilitating the sinful, she often found their livelihood peculiar, yet she had intended to stay with them. She had a burning desire to find answers, and believed these were the people to provide them.

However, that would take time, and for now she watched the Atoning Rituals with growing agitation. Souls bearing any number of sins were called forward, briefly pleading their case. The crowd would listen to their remarks, seeing if the souls were prideful, murderous or vengeful. Inevitably, they would be cast into a pit that leads to… Nallei hardly even knew. In truth, her mind was on other matters and certainly not entertaining the guests as she intended. Lost in thought, she had not even noticed Prince Renathal walk right alongside her. 

“One typically intends to at least pretend they’re enjoying their own Ember Court,” he said drily. His immaculate apparel gave him the appearance of the highest levels of aristocracy, the pointed beard and smooth white hair only adding to the impression. Still, Nallei enjoyed the company of the Dark Prince. She found him more honourable than most, and had the feeling the nature of judging the misdeeds of others had not gone to his head the way it had for some. “May I ask what’s on your mind?” he said, this time dropping the tone when he realized she was not in the mood for the idle chatter and quick wit so commonly associated with the Venthyr.

“When I die,” she started before gritting her teeth in frustration, correcting herself upon remembering her status as a death knight. “When I die for a second time… I believe this will be the place I’ll find myself. This light-fearing place of dredgers and drudgery.”

“Not so bad when you get used to it, perhaps.”

“Perhaps. But for now, I struggle to judge these souls.”

Renathal tilted his head. “An interesting thing to say, considering you’re a Maw Walker who has actively chosen this covenant.”

Nallei nodded. “I suppose it is.”

They watched as a flippant, arrogant soul was shamed by the Ember Court’s guests. She raged and cursed as the Venthyr fired accusation after accusation at the wispy blue remnant. It was done away with quickly, not a struggle for the Venthyr to pass judgement. The next came forward spouting threats and promises of violence, as if the soul had not remembered its position as a bound and chained piece of entertainment, unable to swing a weapon even if they had provided him with one. Renathal didn’t respond like the others, which met the soul with either jeers or mocking laughter. Instead, he watched stoically, seeing what he did as a matter of supreme and important duty. 

“Were you a warrior in life?” he asked. 

“I fail to see how that’s relevant,” she replied. Considering all she had done for Revendreth, she felt she could speak freely with the prince. 

“Please. Indulge me,” he insisted.

“Yes. A warrior in life.”

“I imagined so. A caste of people that would be seen as resolute. Strong of will. Strong of…” He searched for the word, raising his hand and spinning it as if testing a fine wine. “...conviction. I would dare say that a warrior would make a good judge of character, wouldn’t you say?”

Nallei brushed away an offer of tea as they watched the crowd denounce a soul for a sorry attempt to justify stealing from the needy in life. “I’m not a warrior anymore, Prince Renathal. I’m a death knight. A corpse, dragged back from death to serve the will of a tyrant and a monster.”

“Oppressive chains, thrown off,” Renathal added. 

Nallei, growing frustrated, went straight to the point. “I struggle to judge these souls because I have yet to be able to judge myself. I lived a life of honest deeds, and I’ve lived a death of brutality. It is in the latter I find concern.” 

If Renathal was surprised, he showed little of it. Instead, his pointed, aristocratic features remained fixed on the parade of sinful souls before them, steady and unphased. “Well, perhaps I can offer my services. I am a prince in the land of judgement, after all.”

The draenei’s features, made cold both physically and emotionally by her turn to undeath, were no more expressive than the prince’s. “I believe I may take that offer.”

“The Ember Court is a place for conversation, after all,” he said, holding his arms out to show the mingling, gossiping Venthyr as they crafted their many schemes and clandestine plans.  “But I have the impression you would wish to keep this between the two of us.”

“You would be right,” she said. “If you wish to keep a Maw Walker devoted to your covenant, I would insist you keep it as such.” She pulled back her shoulders, stretching them, as if she was anticipating a physical burden to be lifted. “I have three tales to tell you. Take them as you will.” She paused, looking the prince over and finally deciding that for the time, she would trust him. “Through the many souls that have come your way, have you heard of a Camp Taurajo?”

---

The Barrens was the antithesis of the kind of weather Nallei favoured. Hot, dry and uncomfortable, she wished to perform the task she was set out for, and return to some cold, quiet place. As terrible as her fight against the scourge of Northrend had been, it was a location that suited her. Now, as she looked up towards the endless, oppressive sunlight, she longed for the bitter winds and brutal cold of Icecrown. 

Her and a small force of alliance hid not far from the camp. SI:7 had word that behind the walls of Taurajo, horde soldiers were being trained for battle against the Alliance. Dwarven excavations were not far from the place, and the prospect of well-trained, battle-hungry Horde was an unacceptable safety risk. They found it imperative that the camp be removed. 

There were difficulties, however. The camp was not a military base, but rather a small village. These were tauren civilians that would be running up against a hardened Alliance military. If the rout was not secured already, they received word that a number of the soldiers were presently away from the camp. 

General Hawthorne, the leader of the assault, peered into a spyglass pointed towards his target. His orders went out shortly thereafter; surround the town, and allow any civilians that wished to flee to evacuate without attack; an act of mercy before the firebombing of the village that followed shortly after. Nallei was one of many who used torches and small, gnomish explosives to level the village. 

Crying children, seeing their home go up in flames. The torching of a village, deserving of attack only on loose speculation. Ruthless, honourless destruction. Yet when the deed was done, she felt no remorse for her actions, nor pity for the souls she had displaced. She viewed it as one would a history book; an objective acknowledgement that what was done, was done. 

---

“And you wish for me to tell you if you’re a sinful soul, based on your lack of remorse,” Renathal asked, showing genuine curiosity. She did indeed seem a special case. “I assume in life you would have been haunted by this attack.”

“I can assume so,” Nallei replied honestly. 

“Well,” he said, stroking his beard into a point. “You had followed orders-”

“That absolves me of no sin,” she snapped, slightly agitated. 

“It does not. But the civilians were allowed to leave, as you said. That’s in your favour, surely. There is, however, one question of the utmost importance,” he said, his Venthyr attitudes still allowing him to savour a moment of intrigue. Plucking a cup of tea from a passing dredger, he matched her stony, expressionless face with his own. “If he had ordered you to kill them… would you have their blood on your hands?”

Nallei looked up to the sky of Revendreth, clouded with red and grey. A few streams of light permeated the perpetual dusk. They were seen not as rays of hope, but harbingers of suffering. It was strangely fitting; Revendreth was a place where bringing things to light carried the promise of pain. “Yes,” she said. “If the orders were given, I’d kill them all.” She shook her head slightly, wondering how she had reached this point. “Worse yet, I think I’d enjoy it.”

Renathal took a long sip, smacking his lips at the end. “Exquisite.” 

Nallei glared at him. “Did you not even so much as hear me?”

Smiling, he looked back at her again. “I am in the business of dealing with monsters. I’ve heard things you wouldn’t believe. But if you’re looking for a verdict, you’d need to give me more than that.”

Nallei nodded. “Very well.”

---

After the events of Camp Taurajo, Nallei went to find a space alone to contemplate her role in the world. She needed quiet. Isolation. Emptiness. And, undeniably, she needed to get out of the heat of the Barrens. There was one clear place to go. She was soon on her way to Winterspring. 

Cold brings a quiet like nothing else. When snow falls on the world as it does in Winterspring, it’s like a quieting blanket, covering the world and gently putting it to rest. Fortunately for her, the biting cold of the northern region of Kalimdor was so unforgiving as to make those soul-seeking individuals that were still alive to turn away. Few came this far anymore, and she could walk the windswept paths alone. 

The frost had encased the sparse trees in a beautiful, white shell, reflecting brilliantly off the sunlight on the cloudless day. Nallei believed that in life, she would have sat and marvelled at the wonders of nature. Now, she wondered how such a sight could fail to touch her as it had. She walked like a spirit through the world, untouched by sadness or pain, yes, but untouched by love or joy just the same. Her soul was as empty and cold as Winterspring itself.

A fluttering pulled her from her musings. Just off the path, the pristine sheet of snow was scattered by the frantic movements of an owl. Looking like having just left the safety of the nest, the fledgling bird had broken a wing. In a panic, it hooted and struggled, proving only to move in an awkward circle. 

She cautiously walked up to the beast, hoping not to scare it further. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what she did. It fluttered even more frantically, clearly wounding itself further in the process. Even an animal, and a young one at that, recognizes the spectre of death approaching it. Nallei grimaced at the recognition, wondering pointlessly how it may have acted had she been alive.

Picking the animal up, she was scratched deeply along the arm by the owl. It drew no blood, of course. She held it by the feet, waiting for it to calm, which it never seemed to. In some sense she admired it, fighting to the end. However, that wasn’t what was on the death knight’s mind. She had the creature now. It’s fate was in her hands. What was she to do?

In life, she may have brought it to Everlook, the town in Winterspring, hoping the stablemaster could nurse it back to health. However, in places far separated from the main cities where death knights were rarely seen and still an unfamiliar, misunderstood and often despised group, it was unlikely any would so much as speak to her. If they had, they’d be likely to believe she was the one that injured it. With that option gone, she was left with only two. Put it out of its misery or leave it in the snow. 

It would be a kindness to end its life, she thought. The owl had no chance of surviving in the harsh, winter landscape with an inability to fly. It would only suffer. Yet, she saw there was a desire within her to kill it. A need, a bloodlust that had been too long left unfulfilled. Thoughts clouded her judgements, questioning if she only saw the path of death as the most appealing to justify in her mind that which she desired in the moment; to take a life. If she killed the creature, how could she know why? Her perverse justification, or a true act of kindness?

---

Renathal brushed aside another dredger offering tea. His interest was squarely on the intriguing Maw Walker that had entered his domain. It had proven to be a truly interesting Ember Court - as they so often were. “Did you put the creature out of its misery?”

“No,” she said. 

“And you are wondering if that act was somehow… evil?”

“I told you that indecisiveness clouded my judgement. I was unsure if killing it would have been an act of sating my bloodlust, or performing a kindness. Now, I’m bothered even further. What if I chose the path of greatest suffering? Had I tricked myself again, instead allowing the animal to suffer further? I left it there in the snow. I should have put it down. Is causing the most pain the path I chose, willingly or not?”

Prince Renathal stroked his chin again. “Tell me the third tale.”

---

In death as she had in life, Nallei had both excelled at and relished in the thrill of battle. When presented the opportunity to combat the Horde in Alterac Valley, a task that satisfied her desire for both a cold climate and the spilling of blood, she leapt at the chance. She found herself on the icy slopes of Alterac faster than she could swing her hammer.

It was on those often knee-deep fields of snow that she was tasked with patrolling one of the garrisons just inside Alliance territory. A dwarf and a worgen were with her, just ahead. It was too late to warn them of the danger they missed by the time the death knight saw it. 

A goblin had been lying in ambush. Leaping from behind a tree, he fired a powerful blast of lightning directly into the heart of the worgen. A shaman, evidently. She remembered clearly the image of the animal-human’s fur standing all on end before it went rigid and toppled over. Next, he sent a tremendous blast of molten lava at the dwarf, catching him in the shoulder and nearly separating his arm from his body. The two had been friends, she heard. She lamented their loss, but hoped they’d find more peace in death than she had. However, the time was mourning for later. Now, she had to ensure that their killer was buried with them.

Utilizing the skills she had been given in death, she pulled the shaman through the air and left him skidding to her feet. He shot a blast of flame directly into her chest, causing her to stumble but not fall. Lifting a hand, ice ripped from the ground and locked the goblin’s ankles, allowing the relentless pursuit of death to close in. Her first swing shattered his wrist.

She remembered seeing the fear, the animalistic desire for survival. He pulled from the pockets of his armour a strange cube with his one good hand, which expanded and dug into the earth. It began to heal the goblin, sealing his wounds and mending the bone. It was a perversion of the shamanistic talents of her people, commanding the elements to assist instead of beseeching them for aid. Unfortunately for him, it just allowed her to prolong the inevitable. 

Death knights have the inherent ability to leech life from their victims and heal their wounds with the blood spilled. This goblin had caused her injury, and she intended to return herself to her full power. She let the totem heal him, grabbing him by the throat to prevent him from casting any spells. When his wounds were healed, she drained him again. The tiny mechanical totem kept serving its purpose, healing its master, only to have the life drained from him again and starting the process anew. Her plated gauntlets around his neck, she hadn’t even given him the opportunity to beg for mercy.

She had forgotten how many times she ripped the life from him. It mattered little. In the end, she was healed, and she only stopped at the sound of more approaching Horde forces. Without a second thought, she crushed his skull beneath the weight of her heavy mace. 

--

Prince Renathal blinked. That was the most emotion he allowed himself to show. There was no place for emotion in judgement, after all. It was to be cold, calculating, and ultimately evenhanded. He had promised to provide an opinion on her case, and he intended to do that with the most unbiased perspective he could muster.

“Would you have done that in life?” he asked.

“Absolutely not.”

“Do you regret the action?”

“Absolutely not,” she repeated vehemently. 

“Hmm,” he said. “Choices in the heat of battle are often-”

“I was in full control. I knew what I was doing. I’d do it again. I lost my emotion, not reason.”

“I see… Yours is an interesting case,” Renathal said. He truly meant to keep that honesty with her. He believed that’s what she would have wished as well. “You lament the change, but not the choices. You long not for mercy, but a desire to feel mercy. You have an understanding of morality, but lose it when lacking given direction.”

They listened to another soul have judgement passed upon him simply and decisively. So arrogant, so obvious, so unrepentant. In some ways, she wished it were her. The Venthyr looked on in disgust and anger as the soul was quickly done away with. What would they think of her, with her soul laid bare before them?

“I believe I have an answer for you,” the prince said at last. “Although I doubt you’ll find it satisfactory.”

“I’m listening.”

“In truth,” he said with a sigh, “I have no idea. I cannot say your soul should be judged strictly through your actions in life, as I cannot recklessly remove judgement on the choices you’ll make in the future. Yet, I cannot condemn one who has had fate so wildly toss them about.” He shook his head in disappointment. “I’m afraid I cannot help you.” 

As he turned to walk away, Nallei grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him over to meet him eye to eye, drawing quite some attention towards them. She realized this, released him quickly, and scowled at the onlookers who were more than a little afraid of the intense, powerful Maw Walker. “That’s not good enough. I chose this covenant because I need to know. I came here seeking judgement. That’s what your people are for. Do not fail me in this!”

Renathal shook his head. “I am sorry. I truly am.”

Nallei stormed off, out of her own Ember Court, an action that immediately drew any number of rumours and gossip. She walked alone into Revendreth, in and out of the light and dark, struggling to contain a beast inside her she wasn’t even so much as sure she wished to contain at all. In many ways, the Shadowlands were not unlike herself; an uneasy concoction of good and evil, darkness and light, pain and mercy.
Choosing to remain in Revendreth, she would watch atonements and witness retribution, hoping to grasp a better understanding. In every waking moment, she wished to one day be able to find an answer to the most difficult judgement she had found; her own soul.