Varian looked at Allen with clear suspicion.
Is that even a proper question?
What do you mean where their bodies are buried? What are you planning to do?
Allen let out a sigh. Facing everyone's puzzled gazes, he explained: "Back in Alterac, I learned a rather unique spell—one that can use a corpse to determine information about the killer."
The others nodded thoughtfully.
So that was it. Some kind of divination-type spell.
From time to time, the archbishops of Stormwind would perform similar magic, using the Holy Light to glimpse fragments from a person's final moments.
It was rare—but not incomprehensible.
Allen had no intention of explaining further.
Varian stared at him for three seconds. A flicker of hesitation passed through those eyes—but in the end, he gritted his teeth and chose to trust Allen once more.
He gave Shaw a look.
Shaw stepped forward and leaned in, whispering something into Varian's ear.
As an outstanding agent, he had already memorized every detail related to the De Montmorency family massacre—including seemingly useless information.
Like where the bodies had been buried.
...
The night was deep.
The moon was smothered behind thick clouds, only occasionally leaking a few strands of light through the cracks.
The five of them, wrapped in dark cloaks, silently moved through Stormwind's streets. Slipping out through a side gate in the Old District, they followed an overgrown path heading north.
After walking for about a kilometer, a cemetery emerged from the darkness.
This was Stormwind's northern burial grounds, formally known as "Repose of Tranquility", the resting place of nobles and wealthy merchants.
Built along the slope of a hill, rows upon rows of tombstones stretched from the base all the way to halfway up the mountainside. At the top stood several stone mausoleums, crouching like silent beasts in the night.
The iron gate was locked.
But Shaw simply fiddled with it a few times.
Click.
The mechanism gave way.
The gate opened.
They filed in one after another.
Inside, the cemetery felt even colder.
Suddenly—
Thud.
Something burst out from the grass at Stella's feet, dragging a fluffy tail as it shot into a nearby bush.
Stella reacted like a cat whose tail had been stepped on—she sprang straight into the air.
"Yaaah—!"
With a scream, her small body launched upward, landing squarely on Allen's head. Her short legs clamped tightly around his neck, both hands gripping his forehead, looking exactly like a blue fluffy hat jammed onto his head.
"G-g-g-ghost!!!"
Allen staggered from the impact, nearly falling over.
"Get down," he said, his voice muffled.
"N-no, no, no, no!"
Wren watched the absurd scene, the corner of his mouth twitching. He reached out and plucked Stella off Allen's head.
The moment her feet touched the ground, she immediately hid behind Allen, clutching his clothes tightly. Only one eye peeked out, scanning the surroundings in alarm.
Shaw withdrew his gaze expressionlessly and continued leading the way.
...
They passed through the noble burial section and arrived at a relatively remote corner.
Shaw stopped and jerked his chin in a direction.
There stood the gravekeeper—a hunched old man holding a dim lantern, making his rounds.
Shaw walked up to him. The two exchanged a few quiet words.
Without drawing attention, Shaw slipped him a small pouch of coins and showed him a distinctive insignia.
"Oh my, honored guests… visiting your relatives this late at night—do be careful," the man said tactfully, asking no questions. "I was just about to head to the tavern for a drink to warm myself… it gets terribly cold here at night…"
Carrying his lantern, he walked toward the cemetery entrance.
After watching him disappear into the darkness, Shaw turned back and nodded.
Next—finding the target.
...
The moonlight flickered in and out, making the inscriptions on the tombstones hard to read.
They checked them one by one.
"De Montmorency…" Wren muttered, crouching before one tombstone. "Not this one."
They moved past several more rows.
Then Shaw suddenly stopped.
"Found it."
Everyone gathered around.
It was a medium-sized tombstone. White marble glowed faintly under the moonlight.
At the top was a carved family crest: a shield bearing three wavy diagonal lines—typically symbolizing the sea or a river in heraldry.
The inscription read:
[Alfred De Montmorency
24 years before the Dark Portal — Year 8 After the Dark Portal
May his sword forever guard his homeland]
Below, a smaller line recorded his status:
[Head of the House of De Montmorency]
Allen glanced at the tombstone, then at Varian.
"Alright," he said seriously. "Start digging."
Everyone stared at him in shock.
"We… we have to dig him up?"
Allen nodded as if it were obvious.
"Of course. Otherwise, how am I supposed to cast the spell?"
Varian pressed a hand to his forehead, his temples throbbing.
"Have you lost your mind?" he whispered, though the shock in his tone was impossible to hide. "That's the body of a noble! Even if their house has fallen out of favor, they're still nobles! You want to dig up a noble's grave?"
Shaw quickly proposed an alternative: "Wait… weren't there servants killed along with them? Guards, maids, coachmen… something like that."
He paused.
"Let's go there instead."
...
Five minutes later, the five of them once again sneaked out of the cemetery in the dead of night, circled around the base of the hill, and arrived at a barren slope.
This was Stormwind's public burial ground.
To put it bluntly—a mass grave.
Mounds of earth were scattered chaotically among the weeds. Some had crude wooden markers. Others had nothing at all—just slight rises in the soil indicating someone lay buried beneath.
According to Shaw's information, the seven servants of the De Montmorency family were buried somewhere here.
They split up to search.
The moon disappeared behind the clouds, plunging everything into darkness.
Stella clutched Allen's clothes tightly, her small hands ice-cold.
From afar—
A long, drawn-out wolf howl echoed.
"Awooooo—"
It reverberated through the valley, one after another, drawing closer.
Stella trembled violently, suddenly hugging Allen's leg, burying her face in his knee.
"There really are ghosts here…"
Allen sighed helplessly, prying her off his leg and lifting her up like a small animal.
She struggled briefly in the air, but realizing she couldn't escape, she switched to clinging tightly to his arm.
At that moment, Shaw's voice came from not far away: "Found it!"
They hurried over.
...
It was a crude mound, slightly larger than the surrounding ones, with a rough wooden marker.
The writing had faded, but it was still barely legible:
[Harvey Granger
Captain of the Guard of House De Montmorency
May he rest in peace]
"Harvey Granger," Shaw confirmed. "Captain of the guard. Served the head of the house for twenty years."
Varian fell silent for a moment, then placed a hand over his chest toward the marker.
"My apologies, Harvey Granger. To find the one who killed your lord, we must disturb your rest," he said softly, sincerity evident in his voice. "I hope you can understand."
Shaw took off a cloth bundle from his back and opened it.
Inside was a brand-new shovel.
He took a deep breath and drove it into the earth.
Shhk—shhk—
Soil was shoveled aside, one scoop at a time.
A faint, sweet, rotting stench began to spread.
Stella covered her nose, her face pale—but she didn't make a sound.
Shaw worked efficiently.
It clearly wasn't his first time doing this.
After digging about half a person's depth, the shovel hit something hard.
A coffin.
A crude one—thin wood, unpainted, already somewhat decayed.
Shaw jumped into the pit and pried open the lid with the shovel.
A stronger stench burst out.
Everyone held their breath and leaned in to look.
Inside lay a corpse, still wrapped in tattered clothing, its hollow eye sockets staring up at the night sky.
All eyes turned to Allen.
That look clearly said:
Your turn. Start.
Allen took a deep breath and stepped forward.
He closed his eyes.
Then—he began to chant.
His voice was low, like he was reciting an ancient prayer—or calling something from slumber.
Ripples began to stir in the air.
They grew stronger, forming faint currents swirling around him.
Wind surged from all directions.
The wild grass around the gravestones began to wither.
The moon vanished completely behind the clouds.
Everything fell into deathly silence.
Allen continued chanting, his voice rising higher and higher.
At last—
A powerful necromantic energy gathered and poured into the coffin.
Thud.
The corpse… sat up.
Its hollow eye sockets slowly turned—locking onto Allen.
Varian's expression turned extremely complicated.
Did I trust the wrong person?
This spectacle… this overwhelming necromantic magic—
Are you the remnant of the Horde? A necromancer?
Shaw had already drawn his dagger, stepping in front of Varian, ready to protect him at any moment.
Wren fell into self-doubt.
Could Allen… be the one I've been tracking?
Only Stella—
Her eyes sparkled.
Oh my god… benefactor is way too amazing!
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