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Judaus' vision was blurred as he tried to push himself away from the pillar that held him. Groggily he looked about: the streets of Silvermoon stood before him, offering neither a sound or a single soul. As his strength began to return, he called out.

"Hello?"

His echoing voice would be the only one to respond to him. He looked wearily to the towering spires and the extravagant statues; they seemed to watch him silently. Sneering, he forced himself back onto his own feet and slowly walked the streets. He knew he must be dreaming, but why his mind would take him home he was unsure. As he continued on the city seemed desolate, perfectly sterile. He became frustrated as he tried to contemplate the significance of this vision - his thoughts clustered and muddled. He began to pace back and forth, his every step becoming heavier than the last.

"You are home at last." A voice softly spoke.

He turned to see a robed woman sitting at a table in the middle of the street. "I have missed you dearly, Juda'ramar."

Judaus sneered. "No, you most certainly haven't. You've been clawing at the back of my mind since I can remember, and my mother wasn't one for claws, you could say."

The woman was silent, staring at him behind a veiled hood. She stretched her hand out to the seat across from her, gesturing for him to sit. Judaus looked away, wanting to leave, but a powerful tug pulled him to the table. He let out a heavy sigh. "My subconscious is quite a pain in the arse. Fine, let us do this arbitrary dance." Quickly he sat, folding his arms indignantly. Immediately his eyes went to the tome that lay before him: his gaze seemed forced upon its cover, which bore his families coat of arms. "I think I'd rather not go over the family tree yet again." The woman shook her head.

"Your past." She opened the book, revealing a page with colorful illustrations. "You remember this one?" she inquired, pointing to a picture of a couple.

Judaus cocked his brow. "Well, my mind is sarcastic at least. That is "you" and my father. Father helped me become a productive member of society, encouraging me to pursue my interest in creating machines that no one gives a damn about, and mother inspired me to join the priesthood since telling people nice things made me feel all a flutter then." She pointed to another. "Lights Bridge. The town we lived in when I was coming of age. It was built by both humans and Quel'dorei, with the intent of sharing our craftsmanship as well as being a symbol of our alliance. What rubbish that turned out to be." Slowly Judaus felt himself come to ease as he reminisced. "The happiest times I know of took place there." The woman turned the page. An illustration showed himself with a human woman.

"And this one? Who are they?" Judaus paused for a moment, his mind overflowing with both emotion and stressed thought.

"Rebecca. The second mayor's daughter. She was learning to be a blacksmith like her uncle, and we spent many days together working. When my kin scoffed at my interest in machines she encouraged me... eventually she became yet one more thing my kind would look down upon me for. The same for her own people. " Judaus shook his head with a bitter scowl across his face. "The world is most fond of irony, is it not?" The woman turned the page again. Slowly Judaus turned his gaze to the tome. Horror gripped him as his eyes locked onto the image that lay upon the page. An image of the runeblade Frostmourne.

"Do you remember this?"

Judaus leapt up from his chair and slammed the book shut. "Do I remember? DO I?! You dare! Every Sin'dorei and Quel'dorei alike remembers that damned day. Oh, I remember it, I remember it well... my brothers and sisters, women, children, slaughtered and tormented by that damnable man! For what other reason do I scour this miserable world for such terrible power? Do not make me waste my breath with such ludicrous questions!" Judaus's breath was heavy as he glanced about: the city streets were now rendered asunder.

"Have you succeeded?" the woman blankly asked. Judaus glared at her with all the anger he could muster. "Will you succeed?" she asked again. Judaus turned away, beginning to tremble. His mind recalled the events at the Maelstrom during the defeat of Deathwing: the Dragon Soul, an artifact he sought to capture and seal away, had vanished returning to its place in time. The words of the Bronze aspect tormented him. "Will you suc-"

"NO!" Judaus shouted to the top of his lungs. "No, I will not succeed! Not one person could succeed! The mortal races will destroy their damned selves!" Judaus leaned on the table breathing heavily, fighting back tears of bitter anger. The woman was perfectly still. Her stoic behavior only enraged Judaus more.

"Why do you struggle for an impossible cause? For a people unworthy?"

Judaus slammed his fists onto the table. "No, no! I've argued this before and I shall not argue it again, I-"

"Do you wish to live?"

Judaus froze as his gaze was pulled to the book which now seeped with blood. "A stupid question," he growled, pushing himself away from the table.

"Do you wish to live?" Judaus was silent, his mind began to ponder things he did not desire to. "Do you wish to live? I am unable to ask again."

Judaus's breath became shallow. He clutched his chest as a slight feeling of remorse washed over him. "I... don't know."

"Yes, you do." Judaus turned back to the table to see the new speaker. The woman was replaced with a man dressed in the same manner. "I watched you work at that bench for far too long to believe you would have any intention of embracing death. There's no puzzle to be solved in dying, puzzles are what you live for."

Judaus let out a bitter chuckle. "Spoken just like my father. "

"Am I not right? You've seen plenty of it to grasp it's nature." Judaus looked about to find himself at a hill covered in graves surrounded by a lone tree. The same vision he had when he succumbed to the worgen curse. He glanced at his hands to see that he now assumed his worgen shape. "Though, there is one puzzle about death that I do not need to tell you of..."

"Don't you dare." Judaus snarled.

"Its prevention..." His father said darkly.

"I was but one man! If the entirety of the Farstriders were slain by Arthas what was I to do? I cannot be held accountable for them!"

"No. No you cannot, yet that is precisely what you do. I'll ask you this only once, son. Do you want to continue living?"

Judaus stood as still as he could, his breath growing shallow once again. "Yes."

"Then turn around."

Suddenly Judaus felt the presence of another behind him; it made him shudder as fear coursed through his body. "I can't," he said meekly.

"Don't do this son! You know the answer to this problem and it can only be solved one way. For your own sake, turn around!" his father urged him, standing up from his seat. Judaus could only give him a helpless stare. His father shook his head. "Then surely you will die." Slowly, he sat again now, donning attire fit for a funeral. "Your mother and I will be seeing you soon enough." With a flash of light he vanished, leaving Judaus alone. His mind raced as he was overwhelmed with a multitude of thoughts. He looked to the tree that watched over him, it was healthier than he remembered, it but its leaves were beginning to wither in front of his very eyes. Worse still, a man that looked just like him was entwined in its branches, looking most infirm. As he watched, a sharp stabbing pain gripped his heart, forcing him to fall to the ground and cry out in anguish.

---

"Miss Wellard?"

Beatrixe shot her gaze to a wizened doctor. "Will you come with me, please?" She quickly nodded and stowed one of Judaus' journals in her bag; she had made a habit of stealing them when she visited his home - his sarcasm and bitter wit being a constant source of entertainment.

"You say you found your friend like this on his own?"

"Yes, he was slumped over on the floor and clutching his chest. Hardly breathing."

"Well, that makes sense, his ribs are cracked in so many places, I don't know how they haven't collapsed in on themselves." He smirked with a slight hint of agitation as he motioned to follow him down the hall. "Do you know of anyone who would wish to harm him? Though magical means in particular?"

Beatrixe looked at him uncomfortably. "Why no, I can't say I do. When he returned home, he shut himself up in his little house for days. Well, he usually does that, but he wouldn't even open the door to shoo me away. I like to harass him for his collection of books."

"I see. Miss, do you know of the Blood elves?" Beatrixe titled her head. The doctor nodded his head, her expression was answer enough. "Well, you have met one whether you knew it or not." Reaching the room Judaus was in, it held three priests who awaited the two dressed in holy and regal garbs. The mere sight of them made Beatrixe uncomfortable.

One of them, a worgen, approached. "Is this where Judaus Kellton is being treated? I am Sister Elsington, and we wish to hold prayer over our brother."

"I have seen his courage first hand. He is deserving of deliverance from whatever ails him." a human man insisted.

The doctor shook his head. "If you knew what he truly was, you may think otherwise."

"His soul cries out for solace; as one of our brethren, we must help him reach that. The trials he'll meet afterwards will be addressed between him and the Light."

The doctor sighed. "Very well, just do not cast any sort of spells on him or touch him, a mage colleague of mine cannot have him disturbed."

"A mage is helping you heal him?" Beatrixe questioned growing more and more confused.

The doctor opened the door and gestured the visitors in. There Judaus lay, his body as still as a statue. Beatrixe wondered if he was already dead. A woman stood next to him channeling some sort of spell over him. "Has his condition improved at all?" she asked, as the mage checked his pulse.

"As far as I can tell. Still barely breathing but his heart beats."

The doctor nodded and closed the door. "Very good, continue casting the spell. If he's suffering this severely from withdrawal he'll need plenty still. Now, what I tell you all must not leave this room. You're friend was not a Gilnean before he gained this curse your people bear. He was a Sin'dorei, or Blood elf. " He paused, looking to the priests to see their reaction. They were already immersed in their prayers.

Beatrixe, however, stared at him blankly. "Judaus was an elf? How can you know this?"

"I served as a medic for the Argent Crusade during the war with the Lich King. Many of his kind had join the Crusade's rank and the blood corruption they carry is unmistakable. This man was a member of the Horde." Beatrixe's eyes went wide with shock as her ears perked. "I had no idea why his body was deteriorating so when he was brought here, but a blood sample told me all I needed to know. Their people cannot sustain themselves without arcane energy. They are addicted to it, and even resorted to infusing their blood with fel energy to survive when they had lost whatever source they fed off of. I suppose being so far away from the source must be taking it's toll... why he didn't just feed off of other smaller sources, I am unsure."

"Fel energy?" Beatrixe inquired, her shock quickly turning into curiosity. Suddenly it made sense, that strange aura she could sense hanging over him.

"Indeed. Such is just one reason why they are not welcome to the Alliance, joining the ranks of the Horde only worsened their reputation. I will not judge them, for I am just a doctor, but his presence in the middle of Stormwind... it is concerning. " The doctor turned his back to Beatrixe, staring at Judaus - pondering his purpose here. Quickly Beatrixe searched around the room. Immediately her eyes locked onto her prize: a vial of Judaus' blood sat on a table next to her. Swiftly she stuffed the vial into her blouse. "You know of where this man lives?"

"Yes! Yes I do." her voice holding a slightly nervous tone despite her efforts to remain calm.

"A man will be here shortly. You'll will need to-" The door opened, giving passage to a man in a dark attire. "And here he is now. This man is with the SI:7. Please answer any of his questions while you take him to Mr. Kellton's home."

Beatrixe looked to him apprehensively as he shot a searching glare at her. Adjusting the strap of her bag over her shoulder, she hurriedly walked out the room and joined the agent. She was excited to see what she could learn of Judaus' blood, but first she had to make sure she would be safe enough to do so in the first place. As much as she found pestering him entertaining she was glad that soon he would be irrelevant to her goals.

---

The pain had long subsided, yet he lay still, too fearful to stand again. There were many questions that hovered around in his mind that he did not want to face. The air was heavy as he stared up at the tree, its leaves dead and rotting, but the trunk still endured, and the man that remained in its clutches - still drew breath.

"Laying on your back will solve little." A familiar face appeared sitting by his side. It was Elrissa, the one who had saved him from the worgen curse. She had an ever stern and judgmental expression as always.

Judaus folded his ears in annoyance and glared, looking away from her. "Just grand... Can I have my father back?"

"You're afraid." That single statement pulled his gaze to her eyes; he tried to keep a scowl on his face, but it grew harder and harder to do so. "Then you mustn't die."

Judaus scoffed. "I would have thought you would have been one of the last people who didn't want just that."

"Make no mistake Mr. Kellton. I do." She stood, offering her hand. Judaus only stared at her, confused. She withdrew her hand and began to pace around him slowly. "When Gilneas was under siege by the Forsaken, I had to leave all of my family behind, save for my sister. I vowed to cure my mother of a fatal illness and match father's power as a harvest witch, and after a terrible night that exposed me to the dark rituals of warlocks I declared I would turn my sister away from such a terrible path... I have only come close to even reaching just one of those things."

"To my understanding I am not you, and this is my subconscious not yours. This story has no place here." He was suddenly face to face with her, standing on his feet.

"Does it not? You know well that I fight the same struggle you have for years. Putting ridiculous works before ourselves to make up for our shortcomings. I have let these things consume my heart till soon there will be nothing left. Like you have now."

Immediately, a stabbing pain surged through Judaus' chest again. He could barely keep his eyes open as he struggled to match her gaze. "So you tell me I am already dead despite exhorting me to continue living? You speak in riddles."

"I speak the truth!" She pressed closer to him. "You've buried yourself in this lie that you can mend the entire world with heroic deeds and in turn set yourself free of pain. You do not live at all, but instead carry a burden that you do not need to bear! We both punish ourselves to carry this, and we will both perish for it."

"You speak as though I have any concern for you!"

"You do!" She grasped his arms gripping tightly. "Why else have you not made certain that my sister would not bother you again? Allowing her to the library you've collected in hopes she would find another path, be it magic or otherwise? Because you know that if anything were to happen to her it would be the last straw for my life. But you do not act because you fear what would happen if you were to reach out to me."

"You speak of a fantasy!"

"It's not a fantasy! You cannot bear the weight of your own conscience let alone the weight of the world. And you will not escape this alone."

"There is nothing wrong with my conscience." Judaus growled.

"No? Then turn around." The same dreaded presence had returned again as she said those words.

Judaus' body trembled as he felt their piercing glare upon him. "I can't do that. I don't know what he wants of me!"

"Yes you do! The thing that you have locked in your heart till it bursts! You must release it or you will die, your true self, here, now, alone and accomplishing nothing that you have ever truly wanted!"

Judaus began to succumb to his emotions, tears beginning to form in his eyes, desperately seeking freedom. "What does it matter what I want? Perhaps it is for the best that I die." As he said those words, the presence drew closer.

"No. That is not for the best." her face softened as she choked on her words for a moment - he could see the subtle hints of fear in her eyes. "I will need you. When the time comes for you to do what must be done. That is something you are a truly capable of."

Judaus looked away. "But... what if I am not capable of such things."

"You are, Judaus." He felt someone's soft embrace around him as he turned to look into her eyes. Rebecca Yikmel. He remembered those soft brown eyes that had so much patience for him. He now stood in the workshop they had spent so many days and nights enjoying each others' fellowship.

"Rebecca. I can't. I've done such terrible things, I've become a monster, a traitor to my people and I couldn't even save you!" She put a hand to his cheek. He glanced away from her in shame as he looked around their surroundings. They now stood in a beautiful home - the soft breeze sang throughout the Eversong woods as the gentle sun shone down on them. Rebecca held a child, softly cooing as it stared at him. His heart sank, this is a life he could have had. "You're dead, and I can never return to my home. You put before me another reason to die."

"You are a good man, Judaus. I loved you for five years and I love you ever still! But you must give that love to another and be loved." Judaus looked at her with a numb face. She gestured to the side as the environment shifted to his home in Stormwind. He saw himself cuddled with Elrissa in front of the fire place. Judaus grunted.

"Why settle so easily." Looking back, he was now surrounded with a multitude of women. "As I said, this is not but a fantasy."

"You were capable of love then, and you are now! You only haven't found happiness because you have tried to make it yourself! You've shut out friends, the Light, anything that could change you! Let this go, Judaus. Please turn around!"

Judaus sighed heavily as the presence returned. "I suppose... I will do this for you..." His heart raced as he slowly turned around. He winced as soon as their eyes met, and fear gripped his being. He could only stare as he froze before the man in front of him.... himself. With a dark and intense glare, he spoke. "Now. Now We finish this."

---

Judaus began to contort wildly on the bed, muttering and murmuring. The mage ceased her channeling as she looked to the doctor in panic. "Something's wrong!"

"I see that!" the doctor snapped. "He is in some form of shock, he may be so deep in withdrawal his body isn't absorbing the mana you've been channeling over him. We need to slow his heart. You! Hand me that potion!" he demanded of one of the priests. The dwarf swiftly stopped his prayer and handed the bottle to him as the doctor quickly prepared the syringe.

"Isn't that a bottle of Deepstone oil?" the mage asked in fear. He nodded to her grimly as he injected the potion into his blood.

---

They stood in the house in Eversong that Rebecca had brought him to. The double of himself sat in an extravagant chair with a smug grin. "You think this could have been yours. In fact, you still think it can." he stated in a snide tone.

"I don't want it." Judaus rebuked harshly with a dismissive wave of his hand. His double's grin only widened.

"Because you know you are not worthy of it. Because you are afraid of the failures you will come across pursuing it," he taunted as he followed Judaus into a corner.

"It matters not."

"Yes it does," he pressed closer.

"I don't want it!"

"You don't deserve it! It is the truth and you know it well!" he shouted into his face. "That is what you refuse to face!" he grabbed his arm and pulled him to a balcony. "Look Juda'ramar! Look and see!"

Horror washed over Judaus as his eyes bore the sight of his home town, ravaged and desecrated by unholy magic. The corpses of the dead wearing faces of pain and suffering.

"It was not my fault! I-" He was interrupted by the sight of his younger self hurrying to prepare a cart of parts for a project he was storing outside of the town. He remembered it, a special flying machine he was modifying from a gnomish design to run on a magical source of energy.

"Your flying machine. You were quite fond of it, you were practically finished with it when that day came... it was well out of harm's reach, and you had heard an outrunner's warnings while you were out just before the Scourge was encroaching on our borders. You knew he would not come to your home, you were in a remote area." He paused as he stepped in front of Judaus again, his furious stare was almost too much to bear. "It was hidden in a small hangar well out of the way. The Scourge would never find you."

"I was going to-"

"You did... nothing!" He grabbed Judaus by the throat. "You left for your little hiding place and fashioned a machine to save your own damned life! Leaving woman, children, the innocent to die!"

"There wasn't time! The Scourge would reach Lights Bridge in moments! If I could have finished my machine I could have at least- I panicked! I-"

"You did nothing!" he shouted with a bellicose voice, throwing him to the ground. Suddenly they were surrounded by the gruesome sight of the undead ravaging the townspeople. Frantically, looking about, Judaus saw his father struggling to fend them off. His double stood over him trembling. "You. Did. Nothing!" Judaus looked away only to see his mother struggling to protect a child from a multitude of ghouls clawing at a waning shield of light. "NOTHING!" the double shouted as he heard the cry of Rebecca. Judaus writhed in pain as he began sobbing uncontrollably. As soon as he could bear to open his eyes, he found himself lying on the cliff that overlooked his village, next to his flying machine. The double knelt over him. "Nothing."

"Leave me alone!"

"No. Look upon me."

"No! I can't!"

"Look. At. Me!" he demanded as he yanked on the back of his hair. He opened his eyes, seeing a new setting at night. A fire roared furiously as an angry crowd formed around a pillar with a man tied to it. He now stood, watching the people cry out in anger. "Do you remember this moment?"

Judaus swallowed hard as he looked to the human tied to the pillar. "Yes."

"The mayor of Lights Bridge, and the prime reason our people had ignored our little town. Surely, a place built as a symbol of our alliance with humans was no longer important when we had no need of them. Yet it was the closest settlement to our borders and was home to more humans than Quel'dorei and somehow the mayor escaped with his life... a human. Interesting that it was also a human that commanded the undead hordes that descended upon us."

"That is absurd!"

"Yes! It is! But we were afraid, confused, we needed to exact vengeance! To strike back at that which birthed the man who would destroy our home!" Judaus watched as one of the people brandished a whip and began whipping Rebecca's father.

"They demanded to know how a mere human could destroy our Runestones and ravage our kingdom - if they did not receive an answer, he would be lashed till his last breathe."

"Ah, you remember!"

"Yes."

"You were there."

"Yes!"

Judaus grew frustrated and ever more fearful. His double came close and muttered in his ear. "And you. Said. Nothing." The mayor's cries boomed in his ears. With each successive strike it grew louder and louder and louder. He placed his hands over his ears and fell to his knees, wincing and weeping until the screams stopped. Glancing up he saw the lifeless body of the mayor slump and slide to the ground. "Nothing." Suddenly the whip cracked against his own back, knocking him flat onto the ground. He looked to see his double holding the whip his eyes filled with a rage like he had never seen. "NOTHING!" he shouted with each strike. He flinched and contorted as the whip bit at his flesh - it burned and cracked as the strikes grew stronger and stronger. He shouted in agony to the top of his lungs as pain pulsated through his body for what seemed like hours. Suddenly the assault stopped as he could only see the feet of his double standing before him. "One word is all that was required of you Juda'ramar. One word was all that was needed!"

Judaus coughed harshly as he spoke in a miserable rasp. "It would not have mattered! They wouldn't have listened!"

"It wouldn't have mattered if they had stopped! It wouldn't matter if they would listen! You were a witness! You had an obligation to justice! To speak out! Whether it was family on that pillar or a complete stranger! Have the tennets of the Light taught nothing to you?"

"I couldn't!"

"And that is why you do not deserve to live!" Judaus looked up shaking with pain and fear. His double stood before him with the blade Frostmourne in his hands. "That is why... you will die." With no hesitation, he raised the dreaded blade high into the air, ready to impale Judaus straight through the heart.

"No... No! There must be something to be done. I must be able to overcome this!"

"There was one thing you had to do and you could not do it then, how can you do it now?"

Judaus pushed himself to his knees mustering all of his strength. "No. I will not die. I don't want to die."

His double lowered the blade to his side staring at him blankly. "You don't." he said as he tossed the sword aside.

"Who are you?"

The man chuckled. "Who am I? Why, I am insulted Juda'ramar. I have been here a long time, ever since that day. But, perhaps I am a figment of your imagination, perhaps I am part of a bad dream brought on by the trauma you endured during your battle at Wyrmrest. Or... perhaps I am your conscience. Which could only gain your attention by assuming the face of the only person you will listen to, and strike you in the place you are so frightened of letting anyone into." He knelt to Judaus and prodded his chest right where his heart lay.

"Why? Why are you doing this to me?"

"You want to believe you'll amend for your mistakes. You want to feel right with yourself. To prove that you're sorry for what you have done! Despite the fact that the last thing you require is pity!"

"That isn't true!"

"Then prove it. Just one thing is all that is needed, Juda'ramar Sunstroke."

Judaus shot a desperate gaze to the man. "I have never forgiven myself of any mistake I have made. Even the small ones. I forgave the one who whipped my father in law to death, I forgave those that had disappointed and failed me but..."

"Yes. I know that very well." The man knelt down to him. "You were forgiven, always, Juda'ramar. You have been given life. Do not throw it away on such things." Those words echoed in Judaus' head as he felt the trunk of the tree in his earlier vision with his father. Looking up to it, the leaves had began to grow back, and his sickly copy had vanished. The tree radiated a soothing light. Placing his hand upon the tree, he sobbed and loud as has throat would let him.