Артас: Возвышение короля-лича

           He’dbeenwrongtoforsakeit,horriblywrong,andnowitsmercyandlovehadbeentransformedintothisradiant,implacablebeing.HestaredupwardintothewhitelightthatwasUther’seyes,tearsfillinghisownasheawaitedthekillingblow.

           Hadhegraspedtheswordwithoutrealizingit,orhaditleapedintohishandsofitsownvolition?Intheswirlingmentalchaosthatwasthatmoment,Arthascouldnottell.Allheknewwasthatsuddenly,hishandswereclosingonFrostmourne’shilt,anditsvoicewasinhismind.

           EveryLighthasitsshadow—everydayhasitsnight—andeventhebrightestcandlecanbesnuffedout.

           Andsocanthebrightestlife.

           Heletoutagulpinginhalation,suckingbreathintohislungs,andforjustasecond,ArthassawtheLightenvelopingUtherdim.ThenUtherliftedthehammeragain,readytodealthekillingblow.

           ButArthaswasnotthere.

           IfUtherwasabear,enormousandpowerful,Arthaswasatiger,strongandcoiledandswift.Thehammer,strongandLight-blessedthoughitanditsweildermightbe,wasnotafastweapon,norwasUther’sstyleoffighting.Frostmourne,however,thoughitwasanenormoustwohandedruneblade,seemedtoalmostbeabletofightonitsown.

           Hemovedforwardagain,nohesitancythistime,andbegantofightinearnest.