Артас: Возвышение короля-лича

           Heliftedahandanddrewbackthehoodfromhisface,watchingforhisfather’sreaction.Terenas’seyeswidenedashetookinthechangethathadcomeoverhisonlyson.

           Arthas’shair,oncegoldenasthewheatthathadgivensustenancetohispeople,wasnowbone-white.Heknewhisfacewaspaleaswell,asifthebloodhadbeendrainedfromit.

           Itistime,Frostmournewhisperedinhismind.Arthasmovedtowardhisfather,whohadhaltedonthedais,staring,uncertain.Therewereseveralguardspositionedabouttheroom,buttheywouldbenomatchagainsthim,Frostmourne,andthetwowhohadaccompaniedhim.Arthasstrodeboldlyupthecarpetedstepsandseizedhisfatherbythearm.

           Arthasdrewbackhisblade.Frostmourne’srunesbrightenedinanticipation.Andthenawhisper,notfromtheruneblade,butamemory—

           —thevoiceofadark-hairedprince,seeminglyfromanotherlifetimeago—

           "Hewasassassinated.Atrustedfriend...shekilledhim.Stabbedhimrightintheheart..."

           Arthasshookhisheadandthevoicewassilenced.

           "Whatisthis?Whatareyoudoing,myson?"

           "Succeedingyou...Father."

           AndFrostmourne’shungerwassated—forthemoment.

           Arthasturnedthemloosethen—hisnew,unquestioning,obedientsubjects.