For some time now, I have watched idly as someone I once admired falls deeper into shadow and now threatens to become a greater evil than that which brought her to this bleak and dismal fate.
When Sylvanas was taken from us, I grieved. I wept as though she were my own kin. When I discovered her fate — a curse of living death — my heart was wrenched even further. However, I did not know how deeply she had been corrupted, something all of Quel'thalas would soon discover under the worst possible conditions. Threatening to pull her forces from the Eastern Plaguelands and thereby leaving us open to invasion, our former Ranger General essentially blackmailed us into fighting her vendetta against the Lich King for her.
Despite the harsh fact that we had just finished fighting a civil war and our forces were less than formidable, we agreed, simply because we had little choice. Some sailed to Northrend directly from Quel'danas, never having a chance to see their home one last time. All just to satisfy Sylvanas' wounded heart.
Time has passed and Arthas is no more. Therein lies the problem with revenge. It leaves one feeling hollow and empty because no matter how satisfying it may be at one point, the sensation is merely temporary. Was it worth it? Making enemies of what were once her own people? I honestly do sympathize with the forsaken and there are even some I am proud to count as friends.
She is self serving, cruel and bitter. My patience and tears for the Banshee Queen are all but gone, and as she has the former servants of the Lich King create new forsaken — something she has no right to do — it weighs on my mind more and more just who the real victims are.