Disclaimer: Azeroth, and the denizens there of, belong to Blizzard Entertainment. While Alyna and a few others are of my own creation, pretty much everything else has been shamelessly pillaged, coerced, and/or re-imagined for your entertainment.

A/N - This is the third story of the Dark Ranger series. If you haven't read the first two, Fires of Rebirth and Sun's Fall, be warned there are plot spoilers in this story should you then go back and read them after this.

While I am generally very picky about lore, I also believe that the addition of major characters can change how things turn out, or how they arrive at key points within the story of Warcraft. This is basically me pre-empting "But that's not how it happened!". If you think that, you'd most likely be right - but that's how it will happen in my world :) If you can't accept that, or a consenting sexual relationship between two women, this is not for you. Otherwise, please enjoy! Constructive criticism welcome.

I will update this as and when I can. Life has been getting in the way.

This story depicts events immediately leading up to and through the Wrath of the Lich King expansion. For those who may notice, my timeline will become slightly stretched from now on. I disagree with Blizzard having each expansion last just a single year of lore time, so this story will span two to three years instead of just the one.

Buckle up, because this is going to be a long one!

Trigger warnings for sex, violence, suggested rape, rape, torture and suggested torture. I can't say I enjoy writing most of those things but they're not gratuitous. They're included only when I feel it is absolutely necessary and vital to the progression of the plot. I'll include a warning at the start of the chapter for the actual torture and actual rape scenes. For the rest, this is your only warning. Sorry. It's Warcraft. Shit happens.

Shattered Souls

Prologue

Ten months had passed since the Fall of Silvermoon, though time was something that did not bother the creature that had been Sylvanas Windrunner anymore. Raised from death as a banshee, she floated along obediently behind the lich known as Kel'Thuzad, the birth of whom was responsible for corrupting the Sunwell. In life, he had been the human responsible for founding the Cult of the Damned and for spreading the plague of undeath across Lordaeron. In death, he was a powerful skeletal horned lieutenant that was utterly loyal to the Lich King.

Sylvanas rankled. When Arthas had stood at the Elfgate, he had mentioned a lord he served. When he had killed her and pulled her violently back from her afterlife she had become completely bound to Arthas' runeblade, Frostmourne. While she was still capable of free will, for reasons she didn't know and no longer cared, he could compel her into any action at a whim. He had used that power to force her to slaughter her people, at his side, in the Lich King's name. She had heard whispers at the back of her consciousness, and had genuinely thought she was going mad. Then the voice had spoken to her fully. Through Frostmourne, the Lich King could control Arthas, and through Arthas he controlled them all. The Scourge, he had called the vast army of death that had been amassed.

They had swept across the land, even destroying the mighty city of Dalaran. Then, the vile lich she now trailed behind had summoned a demon lord called Archimonde. Sylvanas had laughed her delight when she realised the Lich King had a lord himself, and Archimonde took over the main host of the Scourge as soon as he arrived. Their task had been done, and the demons invaded Azeroth for the second time in ten thousand years. Arthas and the Lich King had been cast aside. Arthas had been enraged, but Kel'Thuzad had calmly given him further instructions as this had somehow been foreseen by the Lich King. The death knight had left for the continent of Kalimdor, leaving Kel'Thuzad behind to secure Lordaeron. The last thing Arthas had done before leaving, was to order the Cult to take Alyna away to a fate and location that were unknown to Sylvanas.

She felt her hatred and anger rise almost uncontrollably as she thought of past events. Arthas had not killed Alyna that day at the Sunwell. He had realised Alyna had meant something more to Sylvanas, and he had kept her alive. He had forced Sylvanas to watch as he tortured her, using her as revenge and entertainment. The former general had been incensed, and had been unable to stop her powerful banshee scream from escaping her on numerous occasions, inadvertently hurting her beloved terribly each time. He had particularly enjoyed those moments. He had even taken them to their former home at Windrunner Spire, and Alyna's blood now covered the floor and walls of several rooms, including their bedroom. Once he had tired of his efforts, he had turned what was left of Alyna over to the still-living members of the Cult. They had given in to more base needs, which had driven Sylvanas into a furious rage. During a moment of distraction on Arthas' part where his control had weakened, she had managed to kill two cultists while they had been enjoying Alyna. While she could force her clawed hands into the physical world to kill, she had been unable to do the same to hold Alyna and comfort her. Arthas had known exactly what to do to drive both of them to their limits.

Despite it all, she had been proud of her beloved. The torment had been relentless, and Alyna had held out for a couple of weeks before her will had been broken. Sylvanas had been forced to watch, as always, and she had felt something snap inside herself at the same moment. Watching her formerly beautiful lover, now a shattered elf begging for mercy knowing it would never happen, solidified Sylvanas' resolve. No matter what happened, or how long it took, Sylvanas would have her vengeance on the Lich King, on Arthas, and on the Cult.

Then she was gone, taken by the disgusting humans on Arthas' orders. A large number of the female rangers who had once taken orders from Sylvanas in life, now served her in death as fellow banshees. Arthas called her the Banshee Queen. He had given her power, and she would make him pay dearly for that mistake. Sylvanas had thought Alyna would have been eventually killed and made into a banshee like the rest, but it would seem Arthas had other plans, and he was not sharing them. If it were even possible, she hated him more for that. She had assumed that she and Alyna would be reunited in death, even as slaves to the Lich King. They would not have even that.

Sylvanas screamed her anguish and fury, unable to hold it back any longer. The human cultists nearby collapsed in agony onto the ground, halting their march. They were returning to the ruins of Capital City, the headquarters for the Scourge in what was now called the Plaguelands. Lordaeron had been wiped from the map by death.

Kel'Thuzad turned, his flaming eyes aimed in her direction. He had no flesh, and therefore lacked facial expressions, but Sylvanas had spent ten months at his side and she knew how to read his subtle changes in posture. He was annoyed.

"I realise it's your nature to cry out like that, but you'd find it would happen less frequently and be more in your control if you stopped fighting what you are."

She snarled at him but said nothing. It was a conversation they'd had many times. He accepted fully what he was and even enjoyed it. He actually believed what he was now was superior to being alive. Sylvanas hated everything about her existence, and to torment her and her banshees further, he had kept their bodies locked away as permanent reminders that their resistance sealed their fate.

As they entered the now broken gates of Capital City, Sylvanas felt no joy or comfort. Everything was rotting here as much as the occupants were. She followed Kel'Thuzad through the wide streets and promenades to what had been the royal gardens. A year ago, Arthas had strode these same streets on his way to murdering his father. Three large demons stood together in conversation. They were different to Archimonde, from a race called the Nathrezim, though they called themselves dreadlords. Archimonde had left them in command of the Scourge while he went to Kalimdor to destroy the World Tree and the kaldorei, the original race of elves also known as night elves.

She was not entirely sure what the three demons were still doing here. The Lich King had told Kel'Thuzad months ago that Archimonde and the Burning Legion had been defeated. The night elves had sacrificed their immortality in the process, but the world was safe. Part of Sylvanas had been saddened by the news. As much as she hated the Legion and the Scourge, she was now also fostering a deep hatred of the living, thanks to the Cult and their actions. She would quite happily see everything destroyed.

One of the demons stamped his hoof impatiently as they entered, his deep voice rumbling through the yard. "It's been months since we last heard from Lord Archimonde." He was the leader of the three, known as Detheroc. "I grow tired of watching over these rotting undead! What are we still doing here?"

"We were charged with overseeing this land, Detheroc," reminded the one Sylvanas knew as Balnazzar. "It is our duty to remain here to ensure the Scourge is ready for action."

The third, Varimathras, agreed. "True. Although we should have received orders by now."

Sylvanas turned to Kel'Thuzad, her words quiet so the demons could not hear her question. "How can they still not know about the Legion's defeat?"

"Impossible to say," replied the lich. "But as long as they're in command they're running the Scourge into the ground."

A loud sound interrupted what the lich may have said next, and both undead creatures turned towards the entrance to the gardens, along with the demons. Sylvanas cursed silently as she saw Arthas arrive, riding his undead horse. He wore the same self-assured smile he always did, and Sylvanas wanted nothing more than to wipe it from his face. She tried to move away, but realised she couldn't. His arrival had meant his control over her had reasserted itself. She could no longer move her spectral form of her own free will and she silently seethed inside.

For their part, the demons were stunned to see him. His oddly cheerful voice did nothing to help their confusion.

"Greetings, dreadlords. I thank you for looking after my kingdom during my absence. However, I won't be requiring your services any longer."

They stared at him in disbelief before Balnazzar found his voice. "This land is ours. The Scourge belongs to the Legion!"

Arthas chuckled gleefully. "Not anymore, demon. Your masters have been defeated. The Legion is undone. Your deaths will complete the circle." He lifted Frostmourne and charged at the three dreadlords. They were faster though, and they disappeared through a demonic portal.

Still maintaining his good mood, Arthas turned and beckoned to Sylvanas. Lacking any ability to resist, she went to him.

Kel'Thuzad positively overflowed with joy at his master's return. "We knew you would return to us, Prince Arthas!"

Still looking at Sylvanas, Arthas crooned, "Did you, too, know I would return, little banshee?"

"I did," returned Sylvanas coldly. And she had. If he had met his true death elsewhere that would have robbed her of her revenge, and that would have been unacceptable. He was not happy with her blunt reply, and he twitched a finger. Pain wracked her form as he tortured what was left of her soul, and she gasped in shock. "Prince Arthas," she added.

He laughed. "Ah, but you may call me king. This is, after all, my land. I was born to rule and I shall. Once the —"

His words broke off as he doubled over in pain, hunching over the skeletal neck of his horse. A sound Sylvanas had hoped to hear one day washed through her ears and she felt the first stirrings of joy since she had died – Arthas was crying out sharply in agony. She had no idea why he was suffering, but she took great pleasure in every moment it endured.

"The pain … is unbearable!" The death knight uttered. "What is happening to me?" His eyes unfocused as he appeared to be listening to something no one else could hear. Sylvanas knew it would be the Lich King.

Kel'Thuzad was buzzing around frantically. "King Arthas! Do you require assistance?" The lich appeared genuinely concerned, and Sylvanas recoiled at the idea of actually caring for this former human.

"No … no, the pain has passed but … my powers … are diminished." Sylvanas felt another thrill of joy pass through her. "Something is terribly wrong here, I —"

His body spasmed and he gasped desperately. Sylvanas watched everything carefully as Kel'Thuzad fluttered about uselessly. When the spasm passed, Arthas dismounted and landed hard on the paved ground, falling to his knees. Kel'Thuzad was at his side, helping him up.

"My old quarters," gasped Arthas. "I need rest – and then I have a longer journey to prepare for."

Sylvanas watched them go, the self-styled king staggering weakly. She felt her spectral lips curl into a smile. With halting confusion, she noticed she could move, despite the 'king' still being nearby. She spun around slowly and stretched her arms. Then, she laughed.

A few days had passed since Sylvanas had realised she was free from Arthas' control. It had been temporary at first, but now her puppet strings were permanently severed. Arthas had spent the days resting, still suffering from seizures. Each fit had relaxed his grip on Sylvanas until she had been completely free. She had used that freedom to arrange a meeting with the three dreadlords. The enemy of my enemy, she thought. They had given her the vital piece of the puzzle that had been missing to her; they had told her why she was free. The Lich King was losing his power, and this was weakening Arthas and causing his pain. As the Lich King weakened, so did his ability to control undead. It was not just Sylvanas who was free, she knew, as several of her banshees had also wrested control of their will back.

The demons wanted Arthas dead, and so did Sylvanas, so they had come to a mutual agreement to assist each other. In truth, Sylvanas was just using the demons to further her own goal – revenge. They had tried to manipulate her but she had made them see the only way they would be rid of Arthas was to trust Sylvanas, and they agreed to her terms. She was no fool. She knew as soon as Arthas was dead they would turn on her.

She would be ready for them.

For now, it was time to get ready for Arthas. Part of her deal with the demons had been to get her body back. True to their word, for now, they had broken the lock on the iron coffin that contained her body. Standing there alone, she gazed down at her form. It still wore the armour she had worn the day she died, albeit scuffed, soiled and torn. Her body's skin had changed to a pale blue-grey, and somehow the innumerate wounds she had suffered that day were gone. Her skin was pristine, save for a very faint scar just below her ribs where Frostmourne had slain her. Her hair had faded from the beautiful gold of the sun to a pale silvery blonde.

She looked dead.

Sylvanas threw herself into her body and gasped with the sensation. Banshees could take over bodies, destroying the soul of the occupant in the process, and she had done this many times. When she had possessed humans, for brief minutes she would experience breathing and know what it was like to be a warm, living being again. Falling into her own lifeless carcass felt cold, but familiar. She allowed her essence to spread through every sinew, quite literally slipping into her own skin.

She opened her eyes, and they glowed red with her rage and burning need for revenge.

Sylvanas wanted to scream, but she swallowed it. She punched her fist into the trunk of a tree in frustration instead, mildly curious by the dull ache she felt where normally there would have been pain. She luxuriated in the faint sensation, having not had a body to feel anything with for so long.

Nothing was responding to her like it used to. She no longer had her deep connection to nature, and she could feel her sanity tearing at the edges. It was something she had not considered. She had just assumed that reclaiming her body would make her feel alive, and everything would be the same, but reality had been cold, and harsh. Her body was dead, and she was a ranger no more. She felt her eyes sting and she blinked. She was quite sure tears were beyond her, but it seemed that would not stop her body from trying.

A hare bolted into her path and she lashed out at it, cursing it with a spell borne of the shadow magic that was now natural to her. She looked at her hand with surprise. When she had previously occupied bodies, shadow magic had been inaccessible to her. But then, those bodies had been alive. She watched the hare writhe in pain, unable to flee. She wished it was Arthas. He had done this to her and what was happening to the hare was the least of what she wanted to do to him.

Sylvanas began experimenting with what she was able to do in her body. Her bow had been left with her corpse, almost like a trophy, and she quickly went about making some arrows. She was content to see none of her martial skill had diminished with her death. If anything, she no longer had to deal with muscle strain or exhaustion anymore. Within hours, she almost smiled. Nature was lost to her, but shadow … shadow was responding to her just as strongly as nature had, and she found she was able to bend it to her will to mimic certain ranger abilities. What she couldn't mimic, she disregarded and designed something to replace it.

She knew there was a lot more she could explore, but time, for once, was short. The dreadlords would be putting her plan into motion soon, and she still had to prepare her trap. With Arthas so weak, the demons had wrested control of a large portion of the Scourge. They were going to attack him, and drive him out of Capital City. Sylvanas' banshees would feign loyalty, and guide him to a spot within the Tirisfal Glades where she would take her revenge.

No normal arrow would be able to pierce Arthas' armour, or do anything beyond annoy him should it even be able to do that. After spending time in this region during the Second War, Sylvanas knew what resources were available to her. She set about gathering the materials she needed for a special poison that she now knew she could enhance with her newly created school of ranger magic. Dark ranger magic. Once that was done, she hurried to where her banshees would lead Arthas, an abandoned farmer's field bordered by forest.

She made it just in time. She could see her banshees floating ethereally out into the field, leading Arthas mounted on his horse. They stopped, and she could hear him questioning them as to where everyone else was. He gasped with pain as she watched another of his seizures grip him, and she slowly strode out of the treeline, drinking in the sight of his agony. Her banshees spread out around him while he was distracted.

Before he was fully recovered, he looked around, and saw her. She smiled cruelly at him, enjoying the utter shock on his pale face.

"What is … happening here?" he managed.

Sylvanas chuckled and raised her bow, the special arrow already nocked. "You walked right into this one, Arthas."

She released the arrow.

It slammed into his left shoulder, and she watched his surprise play across his face.

"You were expecting a death blow, false king?" she taunted.

He tried to pull the arrow out, but his arm only twitched. She laughed deeply as the poison acted rapidly on his body, paralysing him. She began to close the distance between them, taking her time.

"Traitor! What … have you done?"

"It's a special poisoned arrow I made just for you. Do you like it?" She slung her bow across her back and drew a dagger. She snarled at him. "What you're experiencing now is just a fraction of the agony you have caused me."

She grabbed his numb arm and pulled him off his horse to crumple onto the grass with a grunt. She pushed his shoulder to move him onto his back and played the dagger across his throat, enjoying the flash of fear in his eyes.

"Finish me, then," he uttered.

"You want a quick death? Like the one you gave me?" Her red eyes flashed with anger and she saw him flinch. "Oh no. You taught me well, Arthas Menethil. You showed me to never show mercy to my enemies, and how to enjoy their pain when torturing them. After you tell me what I need to know, you are going to suffer as I have."

At that moment, he smirked at her. "You want to know what I did with your bitch."

She struck him hard with the back of her gauntlet before wondering if he had the same dulled sense to physical pain as she did. His chuckle told her he did. She pulled an arrow from her quiver and cast one of her newly designed spells on it. She then drove the tip with all her considerable strength through the gap in his armour at his groin into his thigh. While a spell, it acted as a poison on his very essence and she watched his eyes widen at the pain.

"Crudely put," she snarled, "but, yes. You will tell me what you've done with Alyna."

He cried out as the spell went through its course within his body. Sylvanas was pleased with the enduring pain he was suffering, not having had the chance to test it on something larger than rodents and hares.

Eventually, he gasped in relief. "She is beyond you now, banshee. The Lich King has her, and she serves him beautifully." He knew what had been done to her, she realised.

She grabbed him by the neck. Unlike her, he still needed to breathe and she squeezed his windpipe closed for long moments as she shouted, "What have you done to her, you savage?!"

Amusement flickered through his pale blue eyes and she knew he was laughing silently at her. She dropped his limp body so he could speak, his voice hoarse, "Not much more than what you witnessed for yourself. But what he has done … is glorious."

She wanted to know more. Needed … to know exactly where she was and what had happened. She wanted to rescue Alyna and, together, they would fully have their revenge.

Before she could have any of her answers, she felt a deep pain in her hand and she staggered back from Arthas. Her dagger dropped to the floor as she stared at her hand in confusion.

"Back, you traitorous banshees! You shall not fall today, my king!"

Kel'Thuzad! Sylvanas whirled around to face him. He was surrounded by loyal Scourge and they launched themselves against Sylvanas and her banshees. She knew immediately she would not win this fight against the powerful sorcerer.

She growled her ire. She'd had Arthas exactly how she'd wanted him! She turned to him, knowing he was still unable to move. "This isn't over, Arthas! I'll never stop hunting you!"

Sylvanas backed away towards the trees, pulling the shadows in around her. It was a technique she had practised that allowed her to disappear, and she was relieved at the ease the ability had come to her during battle. Once she was sure she could not be seen, she turned and ran. Her banshees had also left the battle, and she knew they would follow her.

She ran until she was sure she could safely stop without risk of attack from the Scourge. As soon as she did, she was surrounded by banshees. One of them glided over to her, and she recognised the spirit as the one known as Kyala in life.

"What now, my Queen?"

Sylvanas blinked at the title. "We are free now. I'm your queen no longer."

They looked between each other before Kyala seemingly replied for all of them. "Would you prefer 'general'?"

She realised that with their free will intact, they were lost. They had no idea what to do as free banshees. She didn't know either. She also didn't care.

"I'd prefer to be left alone." She began jogging towards the coast. She could feel Kyala gliding along silently beside her. She didn't look back, but she guessed the others were also following.

"Where are you going, my … sister?" asked Kyala.

"To the coast." Pre-empting the next question, she explained, "He said Alyna is with the Lich King. I believe he's somewhere in Northrend, so she must also be there."

"You don't know what he has done to her, sister. There may be nothing left of her to save."

Sylvanas stubbornly gritted her teeth, now she could. She didn't want to believe what Kyala had suggested, but she couldn't help but wonder. Was that why she hadn't been brought back to the Plaguelands? She knew Arthas and the Lich King had liked to experiment by creating new forms of undead, which included mutilating bodies and stitching different parts together … had they experimented on her? Had it gone wrong? She tried to push the thoughts away but they plagued her the entire journey. Without the need to eat, sleep, drink or even slow down to rest weary muscles, Sylvanas made it to the coast within a couple of days. The banshees followed her wordlessly the entire way, and witnessed her anguish when she saw all of the boats had been scuttled.

"No, no, no, no!" she cried, hurrying between the different craft to check them for seaworthiness. Not a single one of them could even be repaired enough to make it to the frozen northern continent. She briefly considered trying to swim it, being already dead, but she knew that was folly.

She fell to her knees at the end of the main pier and screamed her grief, anger and heartache into the empty sea. All this time, she had refused to grieve for Alyna because she had always thought she would see her again. She had not realised she would be taken directly to the Lich King. What exactly had she planned to do about that? Kill him to save her? Killing Arthas was one thing, but she had felt the Lich King's considerable power and knew there was nothing she could do about it alone. She gave in to her grief, desperately wishing she could cry.

Alyna was lost to her. She had nothing left but revenge.

When she finally stopped screaming, she saw Kyala floating beside her again. She said nothing, but Sylvanas realised she didn't have to. She was not alone. She had her banshees, and she could help them get their bodies back too. If they were free, surely there were other undead who were also free. Would they join her? Would they follow her in enacting vengeance on Arthas and the Lich King?

She knew then what she would do. It would take many, many years, but she would recruit an army and sail to Northrend. She would hunt down Arthas, and make him pay. And then she would take out her own version of justice on the Lich King.

And she would let no one get in her way.

Sylvanas Windrunner, Banshee Queen, rose to her feet and walked back down the pier to her waiting subjects.

"Come, sisters. We have work to do."

A/N - I have taken some of the conversational lines used in the book Arthas: Rise of the Lich King. This has been done for no gain, and I give full credit for those to the author Christie Golden. I just saw no need to rewrite something I feel I cannot add to or improve upon.