Mac'aree: the jewel of Argus, perhaps the most preserved land on the Legion's homeworld. It would be here, in the golden fields of old, a most unexpected visitor would wander through. Almost as if she were lost, both mentally and physically. It was a tall, thick figure, with a dark-green and purple dress to their form, with a scythe that echoed the woman's stature and height slough across her back, and a violet hood with two small lumps poking from the top.
Quiet, rather insane mumblings erupted from the worgen woman's mouth. As she approached the overlook of the edge, she lowered her hood, looking off into the Great Dark Beyond, searching for answers with those fel-green eyes, yet... nothing came to her. Her mutterings stopped, and she blinked a few times.
"You know what you're doing isn't right..." She said to herself.
"You said it yourself. It's the only way to keep you controlled."
"That doesn't make your choices oka-."
"I don't see you in control."
"I NEVER wanted to join the Legion!"
She sighs, throwing her hood back over to cover her face, walking in the opposite direction.
"Then why did you agree to it?"
"You're twisting my words and you know it!"
The scythe on her back began to radiate a light blue glow across its blade, humming with a malicious energy as it slowly built. As the radiance built, the countless souls of restless Legion Eredar and Draenei Vigilants began to take an incorporeal form right before the hooded worgen. Slowly, she withdrew her scythe and stabbed the stick-end into the dirt.
"Shaza-kiel, achor Ered'kigon!"
The scythe flashed with a brief, yet beautifully bright flash as the incantation was sung by the worgen's gruff voice. All of the souls before her began to be vacuumed straight into the scythe, fueling it. A cacophony of wails erupted from the blade, growing louder with each fallen soul it consumed.
"This is what we had to do, and, in the end, I hope you realize that."
"I never wanted to be this... this monstrosity, you wretched creature! Just get out... of my head!"
"You're a fool for believing that way, Catherine. Look at the potential you have now. You won't hurt any of your friends this way."
"What are you talking about?! We're part of the Legion thanks to you! We'll hurt everyone we ever knew!"
"Maybe it's your fault for dabbling into the fel to begin with, woman. Now hush your complaints! We're one step closer to domination, like you always pleaded for anyway."
"We're one step closer to the end..."
"What?" She spoke in shock.
The worgen raised her scythe from the ground, and high into the air.
"You won't make me into this horror! You're nothing but trouble for me!"
"You're a fool, Catherine! I know what you're thinking! I know your every thought! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!"
The worgen continuously struggled with the scythe in her hands, groaning as she fought with herself.
"You're so naive and unaware of what you're doing, you foolish girl! This is the life you chose! Make... it... complete!"
"Never!" She shouted throughout her constant war of self-attrition, "NEVER NEVER NEVER!"
With a sudden thrust, the worgen turned the scythe unto herself, thrashing the blade straight through her abdomen, shouting and groaning in pain the entire time she did so.
"Your thoughts are so incapable of planning ahead, you... nngghh, stupid, stupid g-girl! You can't throw your life away that easily!"
"Wh-Whatever stops... you from... manifesting..." She weakly mutters, falling to her knees. Puddles of blood spewed from her torso, coating the grass just below her in crimson.
"With my final breath... I-I curse you, Catherine! To forever live in reminder of the very souls y-you murdered and killed in the name of the Crusade! They will be bound to you forever, even those that reside within this blade! You shall... grah! Forever be bound to the Nether, never to escape the clutches! You will never know the peace of d-death, Catherine, and you'll never know the peace of stopping me!"
With Catherine's final breath, her eyes shot wide-open, and she shouted in agony, looking to the skies above. The scythe flashed and hummed with energy, as all of it was suddenly expulsed within Catherine. Suddenly, the worgen was merely reduced to a pile of ash- as was the scythe she wielded.
No more than a few moments later, the shape of the worgen's soul simply drifted through the deep expanses of the Nether, sailing through the peaceful, ever-expanding reaches. Now, all that was left was the long wait before finding Outland once again, to regenerate her corporeal form.