Артас: Возвышение короля-лича

           ForamomentArthasstood,thewindandsnowwrithingabouthim,theglowoftherunesonFrostmourne’sblade,partiallyobscuredbydarkdemonicblood,illuminatingthegloriousscene.

           "Itisfinished,"hesaidsoftly.

           Thispartofyourjourney,yes,youngprince,Frostmournewhispered—orwasittrulytheDarkLordMal’Ganishadspokenof?Hedidnotknoworcare.Carefullyhebentandwipedthebladecleaninthesnow.Butthereismore.Somuchmore.Somuchpowerthatcouldbeyours.Somuchknowledgeandcontrol.

           ArthasrememberedMuradin’sreadingoftheinscription.Hishandwenttohisheartwithouthisimmediatelyrealizingit.Thebladewaspartofhimnow,andhewaspartofit.

           Thesnowstormwasbecomingworse.Herealizedwithdawningsurprisethathewasnotatallcold.Hestraightened,holdingFrostmourne,andlookedabouthim.Thedemonlaystiffeningathisfeet.Thevoice—Frostmourne’s,orthemysteriousDarkLord’s—wasright.

           Therewasmore.Somuchmore.

           Andthewinterwouldteachit.

           ArthasMenethilclutchedtheruneblade,gazedoutintothesnowstorm,andrantoembraceitall.

           Arthasknewhewouldrememberthebellsallhislife.Theywererungonlyonoccasionsofgreatstateimport—aroyalwedding,thebirthofanheir,thefuneralofaking,allthethingsthatmarkedpassagesinthelifeofakingdom.Buttoday,theywerebeingrungincelebration.