“I was notified by Singlepipe after my fall that we were able to subdue the infernal. Knight-Lieutenant Eratus Riverwood took command and out of his own volition, went with Sergeant Bluebeard in a pursuit of the orcs. Sergeant Bluebeard’s hunter’s companion, Fenstring, Tinkerer Singlepipe, and Magister Sunwaker remained with the recovered child. I was not present for this unauthorized expedition so there is nothing objective to report…”

- From Patrol Report. Year 3000, 5th day of BloomingTide. Captain Elric Falmore

“Wait,” Bluebeard said.

I nearly tripped over him. Again.

It was dark. There was no natural lighting this far down. The only indication that Bluebeard was in front was the smell of his pipe tobacco.

“Do we have to keep walking in complete darkness?” I asked. I stepped to the side and my helmet slammed into the side of the tunnel.

“It’ll only be for a few more moments,” he replied. He said the same thing only moments ago.

Easy for him to say anyway. He seemed to be able to see in the dark a lot easier than I could. I didn’t know if this was a dwarf thing or a hunter thing.

We were following a trail of footprints that only he could see.

I rubbed the pommel of Captain Falmore’s sword with my hand. I was half-tempted to flicker an orb of light, at least see where we were headed, even if it was just the careening tunnel.

“Lad, don’t do it,” Bluebeard said.

“I wasn’t about to,” I replied.

“I can see your fingers twitching. Remember what I told yeh,” he said. I remembered. When the light from the surface dimmed, I instinctively raised a hand. When it started to glow with light, the dwarf knocked it away. He gave me an old miner’s warning.

Do not bring the light above to the ground below.

On the bright side, the sun’s rays weren’t beating down on me and I was no longer cooking like a pot of stew. We continued walking.

“I think-Ah perfect!” the dwarf said. I felt him move away, leaving me alone in the darkness.

“Bluebeard, what are you doing?” I asked.

I heard the sound of rusted metal rubbing against rusted metal. The shuffle of…paper? Something made a squeal.

“Hold tight lad. These tunnels are old but they are dwarven, and if I am right…there we are!” he said.

Then there was a click. I heard gears shriek then roll. Then rock scraping against rock.

“Hah. Knew it! No self-respecting dwarf builds a tunnel without room for a secret stash,” Bluebeard said.

I heard the shuffle of metal tools clanging against each other. Then there was a soft scrape. A dim red flame flared into being above a wooden torch. It illuminated Bluebeard’s face and everything a few feet around him. He was standing by what looked like a closet that had been carved into the tunnel wall.

He passed the torch to me. “Mining torch. Can’t have you trippin over me every odd moment. Not perfect, but won’t attract any nasty buggers living down here,” he said.

I took it, finally relieved to have some light. It only illuminated a few feet ahead but it was better than nothing.

He resumed looking through the closet. He tossed our pickaxes, shovels, helmets. Finally, he brought out a small chest.

“Ah-hah. Here we are!” he said, opening the chest and lifting out a stone tablet. He blew the dust off. I stepped closer to take a peek. On it were a series of shapes and lines. I couldn’t make sense out of it.

“Old mine map, and these things are old...Haven’t seen ones this aged except as old family heirlooms. Give me just a moment for us to get our bearings,” he said. He traced the lines with a finger.

While he looked at the map, I decided to take a look around. Besides the closest, the tunnel split into a small room ahead. There were minecarts stacked up to the side. The room fed to four other tunnels. Rails crisscrossed in the center and disappeared down the tunnels.

I noticed the footprints Bluebeard was talking about. They veered into the room then off into a tunnel.

“I got it. We need to go this way.” Bluebeard said holding the stone tablet. He took a step into the room then towards a tunnel opposite the one with the orc footprints.

“Wait. Shouldn’t we head down this way?” I said pointing at the tracks.

“And then what? I’m not feeling the need to get shanked in the back by some orc rogue waiting for someone comin after them,” he said. I lowered my finger. He was right.

“You need to think like a hunter lad. According to this map that tunnel leads only one way and it’s a long ways ahead. We’re taking a shortcut. Cut them off before they get too far down. I don’t know why these tunnels were abandoned but they were for a reason. I don’t want to stay long enough to find out why,” he said.

I agreed. Get in, get the girl, get out. I followed him down the tunnel.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as we traveled. The air got colder. The floor became softer. I could hear water dripping from the ceiling.

I shivered, damp sweat clung to my body and cooled. Bluebeard was focused on the path ahead. I was left to my thoughts.

The gravity of what I had just done started to settle in. It was the two of us against six to seven orcs. The odds were bad enough earlier when they outnumbered us two to one. Then we had the element of surprise, were fully rested, and fully equipped.

Now, it was three to one. They probably thought we were all dead, but they were alerted to possible pursuers. We were worn-out and tried. I didn’t know how much more stamina Bluebeard had left but I could feel the fatigue begin to settle in. I failed out of swordsmanship training in my first year. Bluebeard had his axes but didn’t have his crossbow, rifle, or his hawk. No point bringing those down since he was out of ammunition and Fenstring didn’t do too well without light. The dwarf could do mean things in melee but axes were hardly his weapon of choice.

And the orcs still had a warlock and the infernal stone. This was all for naught if the girl wasn’t alive, and that was again a large if.

It whittled away at my resolve. There was a part of me that wanted to leave the girl to her fate. Turn back up. Tell everyone we tried. Go back to camp then go home to Northshire. Back to green farms. Away from the closing walls, the dim red light, and the ever-present darkness ahead and behind where anyone or anything could leap out.

“You okay lad?” Bluebeard asked.

“Yes. Nothing. It’s fine,” I said promptly. I tried to keep the shiver out of my voice.

“Relax…lad. The way I see it, Captain Falmore will have our hides for this little crazy venture if we make it out, child or no child. Either that or we die heroically against the orcs, or get eaten by whatever lives down there. If you go deep enough, I hear there is a giant worm that keeps you alive and slowly eats you over ten years!” he chuckled.

“Not helping Bluebeard,” I replied. I didn’t ask him about what sort of things lived down here nor did I want to. One of the toughest instructors I had spent several months as a healer, helping the dwarves dig through the mountain to build a tunnel between Stormwind and Ironforge. He never told us of what happened or what he saw but he refused go down anything that resembled a cave, tunnel, or mine.

“Just joking, we’ll be out fine,” he laughed. I didn’t.

We kept walking, then Bluebeard said, “-but I’ll say I’m proud of what you did. Making a promise to that little boy and keeping it. Really showed me that not all of you lot are unfeeling armored bastards with an axe shoved up the ass.”

Classic Bluebeard. Always follow a praise with an insult.

“Thanks…,” I replied.

“I’m being serious. I’ve seen plenty of your ilk turn tail the first moment of real trouble. What you did took real courage lad. Be proud of it,” he said.

I didn’t say anything. There was a quarter of me that wanted to do exactly what he said and turn around. But his words helped. I pressed on, trying not to think too much.

The dwarf paused. There was a sharp corner ahead. I could hear wind billowing through.

“Careful here,” he said and watch your step, and stepped around.

We passed out of the tunnel into a titanic cavern, over the edge of a cliff. A stone bridge shot out in front, into the darkness. I couldn’t see the end.

I kicked a pebble loose on my next step. It tumbled away and off the cliff’s edge. I didn’t hear it land. I swallowed. I instinctively reached around my belt. I relaxed a bit when I could feel the slow-feather in a pouch.

We started crossing the bridge. It was narrow but large enough for two men to step together side-by-side. Even with the room I was still conscious of each step. The wind was both relieving and unnerving. Any minute I expected a gale to send me tumbling off the edge.

I relaxed a bit when I saw the end, leading into yet another tunnel leading down. I mentally cursed.

“How much further?” I asked Bluebeard. I was getting anxious, and down here I was losing a sense of time. The battle with the infernal seemed to have happened long ago… even though I knew it was only at most an hour.

“Not much further. We should be getting close soon,” Bluebeard replied as we stepped onto the cliff.

The tunnel careened down. The bruises from the day’s effort began to ache. The air got colder. Almost freezing. I grit my teeth, letting the discomfort sharpen my focus.

“Alright, we’re here,” Bluebeard said. He halted, right as the tunnel veered sharply to the left.

I covered the torch and extinguished the flame, tucking it in my belt. I redid the straps on the shield, and tightly gripped the sword. Bluebeard brought his axes up in a combat stance.

I suddenly realized that I had no plan. How exactly were we going to get the girl and get away?

Bluebeard interrupted my train of thought. “We’ll get in, start clobbering, whisk the girl, then run,” he said.

Well it was better than anything I could come up with in time. I nodded.

We fell to a crouch. I raised my shield and braced my sword. Elementary defensive stance. At least that was how I was supposed to hold the thing. We creeped forward.

“Huh, that’s odd,” Bluebeard suddenly said them stood.

“What do you mean?” I asked. Then I saw the body on the edge of the corner.

Bluebeard walked toward it and flipped it over. “Dead,” Bluebeard said.

Whatever it was, it was ugly. That was the simplest description I can think of. It also smelled. I thought I had a pretty tough nose, but even I had to wince as I was assaulted by the stench of old sweat and shit. The corpse looked like an overgrown goblin with gray fur and a head too big for its body. There was ragged tear across its body, probably caused by some bladed weapon.

“Troggs. Looks like the orcs came across one of those underground dwellers,” Bluebeard said.

“The thing doesn’t look to pleasant but it doesn’t seem so threatening either,” I said.

“Oh that’s because you haven’t been up against a pack of those. What I don’t get is why there is only one. There should be more…,” Bluebeard said standing back up.

We turned the corner and we saw a trail of dead troggs leading ahead.

A battle had happened here. Concern grew. Every second we spent was another second of something bad happen. I frowned. “We need to go,” I said. I took a step ahead.

“Careful,” Bluebeard said holding me back. “We go together.”

We continued forward and the tunnel began to open up. There was light in distance.

We stopped and stared in awe at what was at the other end. Two enormous stone doors were mounted against the wall. Twin giants of some humanoid race, sculpted into the rockside, stood beside it. They were in a position of labor, holding the ceiling up. Four braziers burned brightly below the figures.

Above the gate, archaic symbols, were crafted. I didn’t understand what they meant. They seemed… ancient.

“Uldaman…,” Bluebeard chirped. “The symbols say Uldaman…”

“What does it mean?” I asked.

“Beats me,” he shrugged. “You’d have to ask an archaeologist. This wasn’t on the maps. Not sure how the orcs beat us down here… maybe I made a mistake. That doesn’t make sense though…”

He brought back up the stone tablet.

Then I noticed the gate was open. The trail of dead troggs continued from the cavern. I noticed something off about one body. It was bigger than the others, different... It recognized it as an orc.

That was when I felt a familiar sensation tugging at the edge of my mind. A feeling of dread. It was an infernal stone. And where the stone was, the child was likely nearby.

“I can feel the infernal stone. I’m going,” I said and rushed forward.

“Slow down lad! We don’t know what caused this. For all we know we-,” he started but my mind was focused on the what was ahead. The sooner we got the girl, or verified that she was dead, the sooner we could leave.

I passed by the corpse I saw earlier. It was an orc rogue. There were several of the troggs around him. Based on the puddle of blood, they fought then bled to death.

I got closer to the gate. More orc bodies. Heavily armored. From their position, they had been trying to pry the door open before being overrun. I could see a sizeable gap through the door. Enough to squeeze through. Three dead corpses. That left three or four.

“Wait up!” Bluebeard yelled.

I squeezed through the gap. I came into a hallway, its size befitting of a giant. Equally gigantic torches illuminated the way ahead, along with another trail of corpses. The sense of dread grew stronger. I was close.

I followed the trail of dead troggs down the hallway. Some had burn marks. Signs of hellfire and fel energy. I counted two more dead orcs. I turned the corner.

The trail of corpses stopped. At the end was the dead warlock, his body lay against the wall. His eyes were wide open, frozen in shock. My guess is he didn’t anticipate meeting his end here.

In one hand he clutched a dagger. Lying beside him was the infernal stone. It was pulsing brightly now. Streams of light wisped from it to another dead orc. To something below, it.

I ran forward. In the orc’s hand was a tiny girl. Her skin was pale. Her eyes closed. I feared the worse.

I checked her breath. I sighed in relief. It was weak but she was still alive.

“Don’t worry we’ll get you out of this,” I said. I drew a seal with my hands. Light flowed, the barrier flashing into existence around the girl. The streams of light were cut off, blocked from their source of energy.

Then I turned toward the infernal stone. The green thing pulsed with fel energy. Countless innocents had probably died to fuel this nightmarish thing. Countless more would die when it would be unleashed.

It was evil. It had to be destroyed.

A sword wouldn’t do. I didn’t have the innate physical strength of a warrior. I needed a blunt instrument. I dropped the sword and held the shield with both hands up high.

I slammed it into the stone. A small crack formed. I slammed down again. The crack grew larger.

“Wait! Lad Wait! Don’t-” I heard Bluebeard yell. I slammed harder, into the crack. The stone split in two. A beam of fel energy shot upwards like a geyser, dissipating into nothingness. I stepped away, avoiding it.

After a few moments, the beam exhausted itself. Final green wisps puffed out, and the stone turned black. The sense of dread vanished.

“I had to destroy it,” I told Bluebeard.

“That’s besides the point. I just realized what was bugging me. Troggs don’t just leave dead bodies. Not unless something compels them. Whatever that cursed stone was doing is probably the only reason the girl was left-.

He was cut off by a high-pitched shriek. It was followed by another. Then another. Then another.

“We need to leave now!” he said. I didn’t waste words. With the infernal stone gone, there was nothing keeping the troggs out. I sheathed my sword and whisked up the girl in one hand. We ran.

The howling and shrieking continued. It echoed through the hallway. I could hear the thumps of feet getting closer and closer.

We squeezed through the opening. “Help me close it!” Bluebeard yelled and pressed against the stone door. I followed suit, bracing my shield against it. We pushed. The door creaked and slowly slid.

“Harder! Put your back into it!” Bluebeard yelled. I pushed harder, straining my muscles to the brink of failure. The door slid faster until the opening was too small for anything to get through.

Bluebeard ran to the edge of the door. He took out his axes and wedged them into the bottom of the hinge. Moments later, something slammed against the other side. It yelped, then shrieked, then started pounding against the door.

“Go!” Bluebeard yelled. We started running again.

I heard more and more of them slam against the door.

I glanced back. Hundreds of paws were sticking out of the small opening. They clawed away at the air. The door began to budge. Ever so slowly.

I turned around and followed Bluebeard back up. I didn’t know how long the door would hold and I did not intend to stay long enough to find out.

Even with the troggs on our back our ascent was slow. My armor was weighing me down and I was also carrying the girl. I started to wheeze. Bluebeard stopped.

He tossed the stone tablet aside. “We need to keep going. We can’t fight those things. Not with our numbers. I’ll carry her,” he said. I passed him the sleeping child.

Then we heard a loud crash as the door gave way. It gave a jolt of desperate energy to our steps.

The tunnel suddenly opened up and I stumbled and nearly tripped over the cliffside. Bluebeard grabbed me and pulled me back. I got a glance over the abyss. It was a long way down.

We started across the bridge. I could hear the howls and shrieks grow louder and louder.

Halfway through the bridge there was a scream. They were right behind us.

I turned and came face to face with a trogg leaping toward me. Its eyes were wide. Its mouth open wide with sharp, yellow teeth.

I turned and raised my shield. The thing smashed against it with enough force to nearly knock me backwards.

I regained my balance, pushed it off, then slammed it aside with the shield. The trogg screamed as it tumbled off the bridge.

Two more troggs were running right towards me.

The first one leaped. I raised my shield, catching it then threw it off the bridge. The second one just charged at me with swinging claws. I unsheathed my sword, and lunged forward. The sword shot through its belly, cutting its charge short. It coughed, spitting spittle and blood.

I tried to kick it off the sword. The blade must have caught a rib because, the thing just hung there. I tried to shake it off, which gave enough time for the trogg behind it to swipe my sword out of my hand. My grip failed and the weapon went tumbling off the bridge.

“Damn it!” I yelled. I barely had time to react as another one smashed into my shield. Then another one, and another. They grabbed the edges, holding on tight, dragging my arm and the rest of me to the ground.

I quickly undid the strap on my arm. The shield flew away. The troggs shrieked in victory, their yells cut short as my gauntleted fist pummeled the first one in the face.

More troggs poured through. They lunged. I drew the gesture for the barrier seal in the air. Light flashed in the cavern as my barrier formed. The things screamed, blinded by the sudden flash, right before smashing against it.

The barrier illuminated the cavern. I could see hundreds of the creatures pouring through the tunnel. It was like an endless sea. I realized this was what Bluebeard meant.

The troggs started to pile up against the barrier. I raised my other arm, and poured more energy into the seal, trying to keep it from breaking.

The seething mass of gray fur, clawed, bit, and punched. Trying to find a way through.

“Lad!” I heard from behind.

He stood there, girl in both arms, a look of mixed horror and concern.

I struggled as the barrier drew more energy to replenish itself.

“Leave!” I yelled.

“Lad- I,” he said.

“Leave! That’s an order!”

It was over. I knew it. He knew it. His expression shifted to pain then sorrow.

“Light be with you lad,” he said, the sarcastic edge usually in his voice gone. He turned then ran.

I faced my opponents. Cracks formed along the barrier’s surface. I could see my mana levels drop. 40%... 32%... The troggs kept piling up. Howling. Shrieking.

I kept holding. I needed to until he made it to the other side.

I moved one hand, in the form of a new seal. It required one to intentionally put oneself in harm’s way. It was rarely used because most paladins only ever used it once, usually right before they met a heroic end.

I remembered growing up, listening to stories of old heroes. Of Thoradin who united the human tribes into the first Kingdom, of Anduin Lothar who began the counterattack against the Horde, and of Turalyon who ended the Second War. All of them champions of humanity. Paladins of the Silver Hand were taught the greatest good was to emulate them, to live like them, and to end our lives like them.

More cracks appeared. The screaming mass of flash seemed to get stronger with each second.

I didn’t believe in heroic endings. Not anymore. I didn’t fight through the wars against the Horde but I did live to see its aftermath. It was why I hated crying children. It reminded me of all the orphans left behind, of parents grieving for fallen sons and daughters, of war widows who would never see their spouses again. Things all those heroic tales I listened to conveniently forgot to mention.

I didn’t believe in heroic endings and that was why I wanted to go home. Katrina lost her brother when Stormwind was sacked. Aunt Tiana lost her parents when the orcs raided Northshire. Her sister joined the Alliance as a priestess and perished in battle. All she left Aunt Tiana was a baby boy born out of wedlock. Now her only family.

The wars robbed my aunt of everyone she loved. It was why she cried when I told her I volunteered to become a paladin. It was why she made me promise to not be a hero and return home.

Now it was just another broken promise.

My hands stopped moving as I completed Seal 4: Reckoning. The barrier burst. The troggs lunged forward in a wave of gray flesh. Light energy flowed from my core into my fist.

I looked back one last time. Bluebeard had reached the end of the bridge. The girl safely tucked in his arms. Some of the troggs trampled around me and ran after them. The creatures would never make it.

At least one promise would be kept today.

They bit and scratched and tore at my armor. The physical energy of their assault amplified the light energy in my hand. I fell, my fist hurtling in one final strike to the ground.

There was a flash of light as the ground shattered from the impact. Cracks rippled out and grew until the bridge crumbled. The troggs fell, tumbling into the abyss, howling and screaming.

I fell with them.

As I did, I thought of Northshire. Green plains and farmland. A little lake and stream that fed acres of farmland. Always temperate, just enough rain, and just enough sun.

I thought of faces I would never see again. Of Brother Sammuel who kept me out of trouble, of stuck-up Milly who got me in trouble, of scowling Marshall Mcbride who would let me off easy.

I thought of Katrina. She ran the family farm, keeping food on the table, the laborers paid and working, and running circles around swindlers who saw a young woman as easy prey. She stayed strong even as her father drank himself into oblivion while her mother lived like a pauper in the abbey, begging the light to return her son. I thought of the ring I had for her back at the main camp.

I thought of a little house set to the north. Once a family lived there. Now only a single aging woman. She had brown hair that was starting to gray. She smelled like peacebloom, silverleaf, earthroot, and a hundred other herbs. Aunt Tiana still stood by the house, tending to business, tall and confident, even when the world took everything from her.

“I'm sorry…,” I whispered as everything faded into darkness.