It was only when Arthas rode Invincible ashore from the ruined port of Theramore that he truly realized how utterly desolate the city was.
It was already dusk, and the activity of the undead was more frequent than during the day; the overly concentrated magical energy had preserved many echoes from the past until today.
However, this was not a good thing for the undead trapped there. The magical energy maintained their existence, preventing them from dissipating with the passage of time, but the undead trapped here would also relive the moment of their death day after day.
This was undoubtedly a form of torment. Therefore, most undead trapped in one place for some reason were filled with negative emotions, eventually descending into madness and indiscriminately attacking anyone who came near them.
Magical energy was not the only reason, but in Azeroth, a place full of wonders and magic, this was the most common example.
Sadly, Theramore was not a wonder, but a complete tragedy. The lingering souls of the residents who died in the great explosion were bound here by the magic of the focusing iris, until the magic dissipated or their own will was worn away and they vanished.
However, since Arthas had arrived, he would at least grant these souls freedom. As for whether the Shadowlands was stable or not, Arthas could not be certain, but it was at least the world of the undead.
Arthas strolled through the city for a while, letting out a soft sigh. Frostmourne, emanating a faint blue cold light, slowly revealed its blade. The runeblade had received its master's command; it hovered behind Arthas, its runes flickering like breath.
A special wave from Frostmourne emanated from the runeblade, and the surrounding undead seemed to be drawn by some summoning, beginning to gather around Frostmourne, consciously or unconsciously.
And those souls that approached Frostmourne were absorbed by it. This was perhaps the fastest way to gather the souls of Theramore to be taken away by Arthas.
This process would take some time. Arthas casually found a spot to sit down, quietly waiting for Frostmourne's absorption process to conclude.
After waiting for a while, Arthas felt something was missing. He stood up again and carved a few runes into the ground beneath Frostmourne, enhancing Frostmourne's absorption capacity.
At this rate, the souls of Theramore should be mostly gathered by sunrise tomorrow, and Arthas could then leave this place.
...
Inside a small hut outside Dustwallow Marsh, a flash of blue Arcane light suddenly appeared. A weary Jaina emerged from the hut. She set down her staff and sat on a bench outside, lost in thought.
This had once been the secluded residence of the Guardian of Tirisfal, Magna Aegwynn, but that Guardian had already departed. Since then, Jaina had often visited the small hut where Aegwynn had once lived in seclusion.
She had traveled to Dalaran a few days ago, attempting to use her authority within the Kirin Tor Council to expel the Horde from the mages' city, but her actions were ultimately stopped by Khadgar and the other Archmages.
The reason was simple: countering the Burning Legion required the strength of all Azeroth, and Dalaran could not abandon any power that could fight the Burning Legion.
—Even if the Horde's retreat had caused heavy losses for the Alliance on the Broken Shore, and had cost the Alliance a great king, and Jaina a dear friend.
She wanted to expel the Horde from Dalaran's territory, and as the apprentice of the former Archmage Antonidas, she should indeed have been the one with the most say in Dalaran after Ronin's death, both in terms of status and strength.
However, Jaina had spent over a decade building up Theramore and had no interest in vying for power among the many mage factions in Dalaran. So, apart from being nominally on the Kirin Tor Council, Jaina barely participated in or interfered with any of Dalaran's decisions.
But still, no one would dare to offend the high-born Lady Proudmoore, because even if she was not in Dalaran, her power and strength could deter most mages in this world.
However, the current situation and the appearance of Khadgar left Jaina struggling alone. Her proposal to expel the Horde was ultimately rejected, and the Horde would still maintain a presence in Dalaran to jointly oppose the Burning Legion.
Khadgar's actions were indeed for the good of all Azeroth, but Jaina viewed his actions as a betrayal of the Alliance.
An enraged Jaina thus left Dalaran, even though Khadgar repeatedly tried to persuade her to stay and fight the Burning Legion together.
"I will destroy those damned demons, but until Dalaran expels those Horde scum, I will not return here!"
After saying this, Jaina left Naxxanar, but she was filled with confusion, unsure where she should go—she had failed to secure the Alliance's rightful interests, and Dalaran would not accept her again for a while. Kul Tiras, moreover, regarded her as a traitor and utterly despised this former princess.
And her city, the city she had poured her heart and soul into, had been destroyed by a despicable orc. At this moment, Jaina suddenly felt like a homeless little girl.
Jaina sat on the bench, the moonlight caressing her delicate face, as if sharing her sorrow.
In her hands, she held an anchor-shaped necklace, left to her by her father. For years, she had kept this amulet hidden in her mage tower because she could not beg her father for forgiveness, but she still did not believe her actions were wrong—
Until today.
A tear ran down Jaina's face and landed on the silver anchor, followed by a second, then a third.
She cried.
She had never regretted anything as much as she did today. She utterly hated her own naivety, her own foolishness. She had once thought she would not make the same mistakes as her father, but only today did she understand that she and her father were the same, both swallowing bitter fruit because they could not understand others.
"Father... if only you were still here... how wonderful that would be..."
Jaina's voice was filled with sorrow and weakness. She was like a little girl who had done something wrong, unsure how to face everything at present.
Alas, the commander and king who once galloped across the seas could no longer hear his daughter's words.
Jaina curled up, hugging her knees, all alone in the cold night of Dustwallow Marsh.
However, faint magical fluctuations roused Jaina from her sorrow. She slowly raised her head, looking towards the direction from which the magical fluctuations came.
"That's... Theramore?"
Jaina was initially puzzled. Theramore was already a ruin; nothing had been left there. Everything of value had been destroyed in that magical explosion.
But then, a thought struck Jaina, and her beautiful eyes widened. She grabbed her staff and rushed out of Aegwynn's hut.