"Stand down death knights. We've lost. The Light... This place... No hope..."
I awoke to these words on my commander's lips, my body forced to kneel before the power of The Light. I glanced over myself and my fellows, all wet with the rain mixed with the blood of those we had slain. I listened as the paladin spoke the truth of our situation. I watched as the realization of what had happened came to Mograine's mind. I saw Him appear before us, dark and deadly and powerful as always. It had all been a game, a ploy to lure Fordring out. We were all just sheep before the slaughter, a tool for Him to use.
I watched as The Light cleansed Mograine's heart as well as his weapon, the Ashbringer. The glow of The Light was blinding, radiating warmth and life. My heart and mind were cleansed by its power. The image of Tirion Fordring wielding that wonderous weapon now cleansed of all taint is branded in my mind.
Would that we could cleanse Frostmourne too. Would that He could return to us as the child He once was. What has been done cannot be undone. He can no longer be mended, just as I can no longer be whole. Too much has happened.
All memories before this moment are indistinct. I do not remember my life before undeath. My earliest memories are of His voice, deep and dark, echoing through my mind, commanding me to kill or be killed. I remember a blur of frenzied violence and slaughter, and then this miraculous day when this monstrous killer was touched by The Light.
I am not healed. I am not whole. But at least now I am no longer under His control. All I have known of "life" is violence, and that is all I still know. My body aches to fight, and so I will allow it, but now I am my own. I decide on which side I fight and I have decided that He must die.
I join with Mograine and his Knights of the Ebon Blade. As Mograine has said, "We must make amends in the only way we know how: Death..." And so I march with my brothers and sisters to retake what is rightfully ours, to reclaim Acherus, our Ebon Hold.