Warcraft (c) Activision Blizzard

An Act of Faith

The Defenders of Light's Hope were stunned by disbelief. Many among the faithful were blinded still by the tempest of righteous souls erupting from the thousands of righteous warriors beneath the chapel. Their reckoning had shattered the undead horde matching upon the humble chapel, consecrating its grounds in their efforts. At the centre of this whirlpool of light was the body of Darion Mograine, on its kneels and still impaled upon the Ashbringer, and the foul Lich Kel'Thuzad.

The loss of his army didn't phase the Lich in the least. In fact, he preened over this rapturous turn of events. His skeletal finger gestured to the corpse. The man - no, not a man, a boy on the cusp of manhood - was immobile.

"Now, you are mine boy." The Lich's tone was a rattling hiss as the powers that reanimated the corpse pulled the last Mograine heir to his feet. Ashbringer still lodged in his chest, and his eyes curiously closed.

"Rise, Darion Mograine. Rise, Ashbringer."

"Darion… no…" Tirion Fordring whispered in despair, realising that his actions – his advice – had led to this youth ending his own life for his father. The ultimate act of love and devotion. To spare his father's soul eternal damnation, Darion Mograine had offered to take his place.

The exile pleaded under his breath, head shaking side to side slightly. "No, boy... no."

"Our primary goal may have eluded us, but I am content to take you as my prize, boy." Kel'Thuzad crowed his victory, accenting his words with a mocking laughter. "Now tell me, boy. Who do you love?"

The warriors, paladins and other survivors of the Argent Dawn were transfixed on the scene. They were exhausted, battle worn but waiting on baited breath, ready to fling themselves back into the fray should battle be joined once again. The act was surely suicidal against Arthas' right hand, but they would fight to the last to defend this holy ground.

The newly risen warrior ripped the corrupted sword from his chest, eyes still closed and a gaping wound present. He refused to answer, and the Lich asked again. A subtle edge in his tone implied that his control over the risen Darion was not complete. "Who do you love?"

Again, there was no answer. Almost as if the Mograine boy was brought back as a puppet on strings rather than an intelligent undead.

"What… what is happening?" Office Pureheart demanded,

"Fight him, Darion. Fight." Highlord Maxwell Tyrosus hissed under his breath, willing the boy to return to the Light.

The Lich loomed over his disobedient prize, calling upon powerful shadow magics and incantations designed to inflict the most exquisite agony. "Tell me! Who do you love boy?!"

Kel'Thuzad's bony hand, coiled by black and purple spells, reached down towards Darion. But before he could touch the impudent whelp, the undead figure was taken aback when Darion's free hand snatched Kel'Thuzad's wrist. The Lich gave a cry in pain, feeling and seeing light seep into his very bones like some kind of infection from under the runt's grip.

The action caused a ripple to stir through the living defenders of Light's Hope.

Darion's grip on his blade tightened. "… I love my father."

Like wild fire, majestic golden light washed down the blade, burning away the corruption and leaving nothing but the purest silver, bronze and gold behind. In the next split second, the pure glorious Ashbringer had cleaved upward, severing Kel'Thuzad's upper torso from his body, leaving only ash where his lower half used to be.

The Lich sputtered in shock while the Argent Dawn watched on baited breath.

Darion Mograine was indeed dead. The wound that killed him was plain for all to see, but it was not burned blue with Lich Fire! The wound that killed him, the hole in his sternum blazed like sun itself. At that moment, it was clear to all what had just happened. It was no force of the Damned that had reanimated Darion Mograine's body, it was the power of the Light!

"Im… possible!" Kel'Thuzad howled like a banshee.

Darion Mograine loomed over him this time, eyes finally opened. Where the burning blue of Lich fire should been, golden light blazed. And those eyes were as wrathful as the thousand vengeful souls that smote the undead mere moments ago.

"For my father. Taste the Might of Mograine, you monster." With a mighty swing, Darion cleaved the Lich's head in twain.

The last of the Undead were finally vanquished and the Ashbringer collapsed, a marionette with its strings cut.

Author's note:

Just a random idea that I had in my head, especially with Light-forged undead being a thing. What if instead of Darion turning into a DK, he turned into an light-forged undead paladin/death knight mix. Kinda like Sir Zeliek.

I welcome feedback and criticism,