And when my Shadow Bolt struck him square in the chest, the ninth Alliance Laborer fell... But not before he tossed up his pair of boots into the air. NO! Not again! Fear and disbelief filled my eyes as I watched the boots hurtle toward my head. How did he manage to take them off his feet so quickly? Or did he have an extra pair of boots that he always carried with him, ready to heave at any intruder who crossed his path? It didn't matter though. None of this mattered anymore.
I turned on my heel and ran. I ran until my muscles burned and my veins pumped battery acid. Then I ran some more. I chanced a look over my shoulder to see if gravity had got the better of the flying footwear... But there they were, still airborne. H-HOW? The boots change direction in mid-flight, following my every step... By what ungodly force are they able to defy natural law? And then I realize. These were no mere boots. They were demonic agents of Sargeras; the Destroyer of Worlds himself. There was no escape.
But there is a bit of distance between us. It's a gamble, but I might have enough time to summon my Felsteed and ride to safety. With haste but firm concentration, I exerted my entire being into reaching into the Nether to call my faithful mount to my rescue. I tremble with exhaustion, but force myself to finish the summoning. I must hurry! I... I hear galloping! My Felsteed has almost entered this plane! Maybe I can get away! Maybe I can actua---
*BONK!*
... The Holy Light has abandoned us all.