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From the moment Frostmourne pierces her breast, Sylvanus' memories of her life are distant and small. She knows that the people she kills, the cities she destroys at the Lich King's bidding were once beloved to her. She does know. But it makes no difference. She cannot care.
A wall of ice separates Sylvanus' mind, which he uses as he did her body, from her will. Until the day Arthas laughs at her. That laugh – it echoes through her. It hurts. She burns to hurt him back. The ice cracks before the fire of her hatred, and she is free.