I'm scared, my sisters, are you? Where are you all…?!
That enemy approaches Silvermoon — no weaker than the Horde.
I draw Thas'dorah's bowstring till my fingers bleed with strain —
It feels to me that on this day, I will not live through pain.
A strike — the crystals shatter, another — breaks the gate,
The outer Elven gates are crushed with pure and ruthless hate.
My final, fatal order to my army I command,
Then close my eyes and listen to the forest weep the land.
I open them again — and suddenly I wish that I were dead:
Before me stands the enemy, the festering Scourge's dread.
In every soldier there, a risen corpse had found its place,
And among them — that pale rider with the bloodstained blade and face.
We fought until the final breath, we battled as we could,
Against an army of abominations, all risen from the dead.
We did not spare ourselves at all, we gave our very souls,
But then the final moment came, the long-awaited end for all.
The Elven general falls, struck down by that accursed sword,
And so it seemed the final chapter of my story poured.
"Burn the ranger's body in the Elven crematorium,
Scatter my ashes by the Sunwell in memoriam…"
But that was not the plan of that dead abomination, no.
Farewell to life, I waited only for the end to show.
My eyes were filled with blood, my mind was nothing but a haze.
But then I understood: death is just a change of mortal roles.
A bloody, brutal, wicked lie — that's what I became.
Command me, fallen rider — forever I am yours.
Forever yours.
That enemy approaches Silvermoon — no weaker than the Horde.
I draw Thas'dorah's bowstring till my fingers bleed with strain —
It feels to me that on this day, I will not live through pain.
A strike — the crystals shatter, another — breaks the gate,
The outer Elven gates are crushed with pure and ruthless hate.
My final, fatal order to my army I command,
Then close my eyes and listen to the forest weep the land.
I open them again — and suddenly I wish that I were dead:
Before me stands the enemy, the festering Scourge's dread.
In every soldier there, a risen corpse had found its place,
And among them — that pale rider with the bloodstained blade and face.
We fought until the final breath, we battled as we could,
Against an army of abominations, all risen from the dead.
We did not spare ourselves at all, we gave our very souls,
But then the final moment came, the long-awaited end for all.
The Elven general falls, struck down by that accursed sword,
And so it seemed the final chapter of my story poured.
"Burn the ranger's body in the Elven crematorium,
Scatter my ashes by the Sunwell in memoriam…"
But that was not the plan of that dead abomination, no.
Farewell to life, I waited only for the end to show.
My eyes were filled with blood, my mind was nothing but a haze.
But then I understood: death is just a change of mortal roles.
A bloody, brutal, wicked lie — that's what I became.
Command me, fallen rider — forever I am yours.
Forever yours.
