The young woman tossed and turned in her sleep as the small ship was tossed around in the waves of the frozen northern seas. She was having a strange dream to say the least.
"It's begun," the voice said. An image of a young man and a young woman appeared. They stepped off a boat just like the one the woman slept in. A dragon flew overhead. "Young heroes, I was once like you." The image changed into one of a burning forest. The man and woman were fighting a powerful creature wielding a massive axe. "You come to this place, seeking to bring judgement upon the damned."
The image changed again, this time to a beautiful scene, tranquil and near undisturbed, save for the two companions traveling through it. "You will venture deep into forgotten lands." A wondrous image of a mystical forge appeared. "You will see wonders beyond imagining. But be warned," the voice continued as the image became one of a stark, snow covered landscape. "The land itself will rise up against you." The woman had gotten ahead of her friend. "Long forgotten terrors will smother your courage." The woman turned around to call out for her friend to hurry, and missed seeing the monstrous wendigo rise from the snow behind her. The blood drained from her companion's face. He froze in fright.
She must have seen his expression and turned around, just as the great beast struck her, felling her with a single blow. "You will sacrifice everything, as the final darkness falls." The man ran in terror.
Again, the image changed, to the man fleeing through a blighted forest at night. He walked into a clearing, and found himself surrounded by undead horrors. "In the end, all that awaits you... is death." Another image materialized. One of the man, become the living dead he sought to combat. "Only then will you understand." The man drew his blade and summoned forth a horde of ghouls.
"You've been following in my footsteps all along."
The woman awoke. She sat up in the bed and sighed, running her hand through her red hair. Shaking her head, she pulled on a large, white fur robe and a pair of slippers. She stepped out of her cabin and out onto the deck of the ship. "Arthas Menethil!" She called. "I know you're there, traitor prince!" she called again, angrily.
A large form materialized before her. One of a terrifying deathknight seated upon the frozen throne. "You wish to join us, mage?"
"Quite the opposite, Kin-slayer. I want you to stay out of my dreams. Or have you forgotten what I can do to you when you come to taunt me as a mere projection?"
He laughed. "Such courage in you, child."
"I am no child, Arthas. I will burn the Scourge from this world. I will be the last image you see before you are destroyed. I have brought the flame to Northrend before, and I will do it again."
He laughed again. "Come then, hero. Come in all your power and glory. For in the final hour, all must serve the one true King!" he said, as his image faded.
The captain approached her. "Are you mad, woman?"
"No, captain. Only tired. I have no time for this deluded creature's games. It is always the same with these beings and I am tired of it."
"He has the power to lay low any man that would face him. Yet you dare taunt him?! And on my ship, no less!"
"There is no danger, captain. Not this night. He seeks to weaken our resolve, much as Illidan Stormrage before him. We have faced terrifying foes. He is not the first, and I'm sure he will not be the last."
"Do you not fear becoming a mindless creature of the Scourge?"
"I have escaped that fate before. I admit that it is something that I do fear, but we cannot allow our fears to rule us."
"Who are you that such courage fills you?" He looked at her for a moment and terrifying realization struck him. "You're the daughter of Kel'thuzad! You're Poldaran of Wintermoon!"
She laughed. "Captain, had you not heard? Poldaran of Wintermoon is dead." She looked at him, a fire burning in her eyes. He fell backwards in terror.
"Call me Lichborn," she said, her grin wicked.