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A lich's betrayal
At the frozen heart of Northrend, a slim figure rises figure rises from her slumber. Black robes flow over her skeletal form as she paces her chamber.

"I cannot just stand by and watch that fool drive the Scourge into the ground. More and more of us are slain everyday by those wretched mortals, and still more break away to join Sylvanas. Something must be done. If I where in command..."

"If you where in command what?" said a voice in her mind. "You mustn't think like that. If the Lich King found out, you'd be dead."

"It's a little late for that," said the lich. "What I need is a servant. One who will not question any order, one with the power to crush Arthas and turn the throne over to me."

"But where would you find such a being?" asked a voice, "You can't exactly walk into a city and pick one off the street."

"No, but I may have an idea about who I can use, but it will require great magic to turn her."

"You can't mean... NO, I will not allow it!"

"You don't have a choice in the matter. Soon, you and all other undead will bow before me."

"Do what you will, she cannot be turned. You know you sister well enough to realize that."

"Perhaps, we shall see."

She floats over to the collection of books in the corner, "There's got to be something here about corrupting another's soul."

She bends over and picks up a dusty book. As she stands up, a small object falls from her robe. She pays no notice and begins to read.

The object was a silver medal covered in golden runes. It was a gift to Areiel Shadowstar from her sister Quelosia. Now that Areiel was a lich, it meant nothing to her, and she felt no remorse when casting the spell to bind her sister to her through a mark burned into her forehead.

"Your destiny is in my hands now sister. When I'm finished there will be no one to save you from the darkness in your heart."

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