And so, there he stands. The once beautiful Sunfury Spire is now covered with blood. If only it were the blood of thoses member of the Alliance, it would be perfect, but no.
The attack was fast and deadly. Alliance soldiers came out of nowhere in an instant and lashed out at him. Lor'themar cursed that teleport orb, linked to the Undercity. Itâs was only a blink and the whole place became hell. The elves came to his aid almost immediatly. The sounds of battle, the cries of agony, everything echoed in his peaceful city. He could hear his own heart beating in the fight, it resonated in his hears, reminding him that he was still alive, that the battle wasnât over yet. The Regent Lord had to give his all to protect his people. The blood elves couldnât afford more deaths: they already were at the brink of extinction. Fortunately, they were winning the battle and most of his people were still alive.
Then, a human warcry echoed in the Court of the Sun. Lor'themar stopped in his tracks almost instantly. No. Please, no -he muttered to himself-, it canât be.
But it was.
The second onslaught was bigger than the first, and also twice as deadly. It seems the first one was only a distraction. Lor'themar took a look at his city just a moment before the new battle. Elven corpses laid everywhere. Citicens. Civilians. Innocent people.His people. That enraged him deeply, in that moment, he could only see the battle. Killing those ruthless murderers was the only thing he had in his mind. Halduron fell. Rommath went not long after. One by one, death after death.
Soon, the Spire was covered in silence again. Only his heavy breathing broke it. He won. But at what price? Lor'themar was the only one alive in that throne room.
At that moment, the only thing that crossed his mind was the desire to have died in battle, with his brothers. What king of victory is this, if only him survived? It would be just another victory in the history books. But the lives of his people⊠They were irreplaceables.