The woods stretched tall above her, the sound of shuffling ghouls replaced the night song of birds. The hoof beats of her death charger, Temper, provided a tempo by which she directed her thoughts. They were far from here, those thoughts, locked in a memory of her service to the Lich King.
It had been her sole desire then to see his will carried out. Every movement, every action, every fevered moment had been dedicated to him. She had followed the teachings of the Scourge, believed in them and breathed them. Villainy suited Cale well – it kept from her the wavering faith that those called heroes staked their lives on. It was an extension from her past life, the will to serve. (Though she had always been one to serve in what way she thought best, rather then ordered.) She believed it.
“The greatest glory is to die in the master’s service.â€