Three days later, Felwyn Smallfinger stood on the roof of the new Temple of the Damned. She wore an animal skull tied over her new-cropped hair, and held a tall staff in her hand. Her new teacher had decorated it with the skull of Mir'noj. It seemed appropriate, having made her what she now was, that he should accompany her.
Smoke rose up around her, for Ner'zirhud was hard at work inside. A shade had come back with a report earlier in the day, and soon after the dragon had come back bearing a corpse.
And now the necromancer slaved over the broken body of a Night Elf, making her into something else. Felwyn noticed that Phage Marrowice came often to check on his progress.
It is good that Phage Marrowice should no longer be alone.
Felwyn looked down at her feet. Her old eye was blinded by the smoke. With her new eye, she saw down through it and into the fire beneath. Further yet, she saw the dark pulse of new life beginning in the body of Viri Starwater. Through the dragon fire trapped close to her mind Felwyn saw the shape of that new life, and saw that it was not merely a banshee that would rise, but a dark huntress. A warrior ready for this hard land.
Felwyn smiled. And the necromancer looked into the sunset with one human eye and one Undead one, and said:
Not all that is broken is finished,
Not all that have perished are lost;
The seed of the mighty may flourish
In the stone that is split by the frost.