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The blade bit into her back.

It was odd, feeling pain as a creature of death, but she knew it was there. It rang through her dulled nerves and broken thoughts, her frail bones as the blade dug into her rotting flesh.

It was a cry of agony as she called out the assault;

"ASSASSIN!"

Falling forward from the blow, he would have finished her had it not been for the guards and allies nearby. The druidess was the only reason she still breathed, it seemed. But that wasn't what worried her.

They do not like traitors.

Granted, she couldn't truly betray what she was never an ally to in the first place. But an undead creature, a Lightwielder at that, that refused to be a part of the Forsaken was an enemy to their kind, a representation of what could very well be a lie of Sylvanas.

... And that's how I can strike at them for this.

The idea cropped into her head quickly at this. It was possible. It could be done. Who knows what the ramifications would be, but it must be done. She took her pen and a letter, and began to write, more than one copy, many for each city of the Horde and their bases, to be distributed to anyone that frequented them. Her notice would be seen.

To the Forsaken that follow the Liar Queen

Cast off your chains, fallen brothers and sisters!

On the eve this letter was written, an assassin of the self-proclaimed Banshee Queen was sent to slay me, a priestess of the Light, and a supposed Traitor to the Forsaken. But I am no traitor, just as you are not Forsaken.

We were never forsaken by the Light, but rather we forsook and abandoned it! Our lives have been defined by our unholy return, and yet it is possible for us to rejoin our living brothers and sisters, and be once more welcome in the loving embrace of the Light!

Sylvanas fears this, for Sylvanas knows that she is a tyrant that does not rule her people, but instead controls them! There is no freedom within the Forsaken, no choice, no control, no true unlife and self will! She is only a Lich Queen, prepared to waste all of her servants simply for her own desires! We mean NOTHING to her!

But we mean everything to the Light, as the Light loves us all.

Cast aside your damned chains, my fallen brothers and sisters, and once more return to the holy Light that bore us in life, and guides us in death!

We are not Forsaken.

Nynra Lirann Lightheart, Redeemed

To each city, to each post, to each stronghold, to each watch; that was where this letter was sent, that was where the Horde would see her decree. She would reveal the falsity of Sylvanas Windrunner, and she knew she would succeed. The Banshee Queen would not have sent an assassin to her otherwise.

You and your kind fear me, Liar Queen. I will show you why the Light still judges and loves all.

The Archmagus arched a brow as he was given the pamphlet by a goblin crier, reading over it to see what exactly the fellow was passing out. It didn't take long for him to snort in disdain, murmuring something about 'delusional fool' as he tossed the notice over his shoulder, arcane fire engulfing it and erasing it from this world.

A reply is sent and posted throughout both the Horde and the Alliance. The origin is unknown, and the author's identity is also unknown - proof that the sender is a damn sight better at hiding his tracks than Nynra.

Let it be known to all who have read the rambling tract of questionable penmanship by one Nynra Lirann Lightheart, oathbreaker:

We have not taken the name of "Forsaken" because we were abandoned by the Light. Allow me to give you a history lesson: our nom de guerre was chosen because...get a good look at us. We are walking corpses. Biological clocks stopped, broken, chucked into a lake. Living impaired. Dead. It is said that upon being freed from the iron grip of the Lich King, Sylvanas looked upon herself and knew that she would never be welcome among the living again. And many of us who were awakened unwillingly from our sleep of death looked upon our forms with horror, at first, and came to the same realization as she.

We are Forsaken by the living, not by the Light. The Alliance condemns us as monsters, and even amongst our allies in the Horde, we are looked down upon as second-class citizens, even though we have made more gains with our "questionable" tactics than our living allies. As an example, consider the state of our war with the Alliance. In the Southern Barrens, our living allies are hopelessly deadlocked fighting for a patch of ground that has no value but the name. In Stonetalon, the Warchief executed the only commander to have the temerity to take the necessary steps for victory - total destruction of the enemy and anything that can support it.

We have no such qualms. That is why it is we who have claimed victories in battle, destroying the pitiful militias raised in Andorhal, and keeping the dogs of Gilneas in their place. And yet we are spat upon, scorned, sneered at, even by those we fight alongside. Why? Because we are dead - we are Forsaken. A handful of babbling idiots preaching some foolhardy notion of redemption through treason does not make it otherwise.

And speaking of babbling idiots, let us examine the matter of the sender of this little manifesto calling our Queen a liar. We do not fear this...horribly naive and woefully inexperienced priestess, and we do not hunt her because she uses the Light. Though many of our priests call themselves "shadow priests", all are still fully capable of using the Light whenever they wish, especially when we are called upon to serve our living allies in the Horde. Many of us had been quite pious in life, and some among us believe that the Light has a use for all of us, even our Dark Lady - just as we are capable of using it. We do not have to dishonor ourselves by abandoning our allegiance to Sylvanas in order to feel the Light's grace.

That is why we hunt you, my child. Not because you wield the Light, but because you are a traitor, turning your back on your new life, on who you truly are, for some whimsical dream of acceptance. Why don't you mention the witch hunts that you have been, are, and will be subject to because of your status, young priestess? Does your audience not deserve to know how the Alliance will treat anyone foolish enough to take you up on your offer?

You cannot change the facts, fool. You are damned. You were damned from the moment you rose from your grave, and you will be damned until you are ash scattered in the breeze - which, given Varian's mindset of late, will likely be your fate. Your philosophy changes nothing, only to prove how deluded you truly are. It is my sincerest wish that you realize just how wrong you are before you are sent to your true death.

Victory for Sylvanas.

While on his route through Stormwind posting new advertisements, Fitz stopped to scan an unusually prominent broadside posted in the middle of one of the message boards.

"Huh...Forsaken, blah blah self-righteous...blah blah self-pity...blah blah 'we kill you.' For corpses, their posteriors still seem sensitive enough," Fitz scoffed.

"Well, I know at least a few parts of you all certainly don't work, so I hope you fine undead gentlemen and ladies will excuse me when I put this ad up." Fitz grinned to himself as he papered over the broadside with an ad for the new line of "ladies' novels" put out by his press. Finished, he sauntered off, whistling a jaunty air.