The meadows and forests of Hillsbrad shed their verdant green, taking on the clear yellow of an autumn sunset, and with the changing season, another year began to draw to a close.
On this tranquil afternoon, the magical shield of Dalaran suddenly opened a gap, and several griffons, adorned with the emblem and armor of Lordaeron, flew into the magical city.
Jaina waited eagerly on the Krasus platform, wrapped in a fox-fur shawl, and a smile blossomed on her face when she saw the Lordaeron griffons.
"You're always so punctual," the female mage said softly, smiling at the person on the griffon.
"It seems I was lucky; I didn't encounter any Ogres blocking the road," Arthas said, taking off his wind-blocking hood. After dismounting the griffon, he gently embraced Jaina.
Jaina pouted, "That time, it was only because I was in a hurry that I cut through the forest—Alright, my teacher is waiting for us. Let's not keep him waiting."
Arthas nodded, "It's been a while since I last visited Master Antonidas."
Flanked by Secret Intelligence Agency guards, Arthas and Jaina headed towards the Violet Citadel in the center of Dalaran. With Jaina present, their path was unobstructed, but before entering Antonidas's private mage tower, Arthas dismissed the Secret Intelligence Agency guards, and he and Jaina stepped into the teleportation portal leading to the mage tower's reception room.
As the Arcane light faded, Arthas and Jaina's figures appeared in a spacious room. Antonidas, dressed in loose robes, was sitting at a round table, drinking coffee and holding a newspaper published by Dalaran.
Upon sensing the portal opening, Antonidas stroked his long, graying beard and looked up at Jaina and Arthas. "Ah… it's Arthas. It seems you haven't visited me in a long time…"
Jaina untied Arthas's wind-blocking cloak, folded it several times, held it in her hands, and stood aside without speaking, only glancing at Arthas twice.
Arthas straightened his collar. "I apologize for leaving Dalaran in such a hurry and not having the chance to visit Antonidas."
Antonidas put down his coffee cup upon hearing this, looked at Arthas's serious expression, and couldn't help but laugh, breaking the solemn atmosphere. He chuckled, "You rascal, I've never seen you so well-behaved. You even cross the Endless Sea to fight demons with unknown races. Tell me, what else can't you do?"
Antonidas had been the Speaker of Dalaran for countless years. Although the average lifespan of humans was not as long as that of elves, some powerful mages could use Arcane magic to slow their aging. It was only because Antonidas didn't care much about his appearance; otherwise, he might look younger than Arthas's father now.
However, even for a mage as powerful as Antonidas, the lifespan extended by magic was limited. Aside from relying on a source of magic like the Well of Eternity, or having a Guardian-level blessing, no one could achieve immortality.
"If it weren't out of sheer necessity, who would want to take such a risk?"
Arthas appeared helpless, but Antonidas clearly wasn't buying it.
"Alright, alright, your years in Dalaran made me realize that you are completely different from your father, or rather, you are different from all the rulers of the Alliance," Antonidas said, his voice suddenly deepening. "But, is all of this truly worth it?"
"I can give you a very definite answer—absolutely worth it."
Arthas replied unequivocally. He had already understood Antonidas's thoughts, and to convince the old mage, he had to provide Antonidas with sufficient proof.
"Even if it means opening that forbidden grimoire again?"
"In the past, it might indeed have been a tool for our enemies to invade us, but as long as we use it correctly, we can turn it into our own strength," Arthas said solemnly. "You should still remember the meeting from a few days ago, right?"
Antonidas leaned back in his chair, his eyelids lowered, gazing at the newspaper on the table in silence for a moment before replying, "Is the arrival of the Legion truly unavoidable?"
"Master, according to the intelligence we've gathered, I can confirm that the Legion's ultimate goal is to destroy the planet beneath our feet, to destroy everything we rely on for survival. From every perspective, we have an irreconcilable conflict with the Burning Legion, and they will rush at us without hesitation. The orcs' world, and many other planets that have already turned to dust, can attest to this."
Antonidas shook his head. "If that's the case, why should we risk opening a portal connected to the astral realm? Wouldn't that make our situation even more dangerous?"
"It's completely different," Arthas denied Antonidas's view. "We open the Dark Portal to take the initiative into our own hands, and even to move the battlefield entirely out of Azeroth; but if we wait for the enemy to open the Dark Portal, or other passages, then we will be forced to endure attacks behind our castles and defensive lines."
Arthas's words and expression, illuminated by the sunlight streaming into the room, appeared somewhat blurred. Antonidas gazed at Arthas, and from that figure enveloped in warm light, he seemed to see the shadow of another person.
Antonidas sighed, momentarily setting aside old memories. He rose from his chair and slowly walked to a nearby bookshelf, casually drawing a few runes to retrieve a thick book.
He held the grimoire, then slowly walked back to the table and gently placed the book on the tabletop. "Sigh… The expression and tone in your words remind me of an… old friend—all of us owe him a great deal, and he once said something similar to you."
The old mage used his withered fingers to turn the pages, glancing at the chandelier on the ceiling while muttering to himself, "If he were still here, perhaps he would also adopt the same approach as you… Haha, old people just overthink things. Didn't he do the same back then?"
Antonidas's brief description made Arthas feel vaguely familiar, but he wasn't sure whom he was referring to.
The old mage didn't care, merely continuing to speak to himself, "I've grown old, and I thought that after the Orc trouble was resolved, I could return to the beginning. When did conservatism stop being a positive description for me, and instead become a shackles I've placed upon myself?"
Antonidas's hand, turning the page, suddenly stopped, as if frozen in time, and in his eyes, a surging and vibrant Arcane light, completely unlike his aging body, bloomed.
Under Antonidas's magical urging, the symbols and characters on the pages coalesced into a blue-purple projection in the void.
Arthas stared at the familiar image in the center of the projection and slowly said, "This is… the construction process and activation method of the Dark Portal? Then what you have in your hand is…"
"That's right, it's the original medivh's book," Antonidas waved his hand, further unfolding the images and text.
"To ensure the absolute safety of this book, we used a small trick to hide it here with me, instead of placing it in the treasure vault of Dalaran."
Although Dalaran's treasure vault was heavily guarded, too many people knew of its existence, and the personnel managing the vault were also fluid and inconsistent, so some extremely dangerous items actually had even more special storage methods.
And no one would have guessed that medivh's book was actually on an inconspicuous bookshelf used for decoration, right next to Antonidas's private reception room.
Coupled with the confusing magical auras and seals throughout the mage tower, even if one sensed something unusual, they would only assume it was Antonidas's private collection.
"A very clever way of hiding," a smile appeared on Arthas's face.
Since Antonidas had displayed medivh's book before him, his goal had basically been achieved.
"Hmph, Dalaran is, after all, a city of magic with a thousand-year heritage.
How could it stand for so long without some capability?
This is just a small fraction of the countless wisdoms of mages," Antonidas said with some pride, "Unless Dalaran is destroyed, finding medivh's book would be as difficult as ascending to the heavens."
Upon hearing this, Arthas's smile nearly froze, and he even felt his hands were getting a little out of control—ahem, of course, the old mage also had reason to be proud.
With the current foundation of Dalaran, if it weren't for a full-scale assault by the Burning Legion and the Scourge, it would be basically impossible to do anything to this city of magic.
After Antonidas displayed the information about the Dark Portal from medivh's book, he closed the book again and returned it to its original bookshelf.
And as soon as the grimoire was placed into the crevice, the space of the bookshelf suddenly rearranged itself automatically, and the aura of medivh's book disappeared once more.
Arthas, standing by, found it quite interesting.
Indeed, the mages' techniques were endless; it wasn't just a simple layer of sealing and aura concealment, the space on this bookshelf and the arrangement of the books also seemed to be able to reconfigure.
Who knew if, without the correct method to retrieve medivh's book, the bookshelf would directly split open a spatial rift, swallowing those with ill intentions.
"I have already made a rubbing of the records concerning the Dark Portal," Antonidas smoothed out a piece of parchment and used magic to imprint the contents of medivh's book onto it.
"But there is much other dangerous knowledge in that book, and I think it's best to keep it sealed away in that space."
"You are as prudent as ever, Master Antonidas," Arthas was not surprised by this; in fact, Antonidas sharing the contents of medivh's book had already made his trip worthwhile.
"Don't be so quick with those praises, little Menethil," Antonidas puffed out his beard and walked over to Jaina, handing the scroll to his most trusted disciple.
"I've given the item to Jaina for now, but I have one request."
"Please speak."
"When the Alliance decides to open the Dark Portal, I must personally preside over the ritual."
Upon hearing this, Arthas pondered for a moment.
He roughly understood what the old mage was worried about, and this request itself was not excessive; in fact, opening the Dark Portal would inherently require the help of Dalaran or Quel'Thalas.
"Of course, Master, there's no problem.
Before the Alliance council issues its final command, I will immediately notify Jaina and you."
Antonidas nodded lightly, walked to the room's balcony, and looked through the flickering magical runes above Dalaran at the clear sky, slowly saying, "It's time for a change… Little Menethil, don't disappoint us…"
...
"Buzz—"
The Scourge naxxanar above the Blade's Edge Mountains, like a high-hanging scythe of death, oppressed the many living beings of the Blade's Edge Mountains.
Inside Naxxanar, the conversion of the Black Dragonflight's corpses was proceeding in an orderly fashion.
Deathwing's subordinates had left a large number of corpses in the Blade's Edge Mountains, which were now all taken into the Scourge's possession.
Next to Naxxanar's construction area, there were also two tall and silent terrifying shadows.
Their bodies were covered in thick, hideous saronite armor, and their limbs and torsos were bound by heavy iron chains, yet there was no sign of life, like two terrifying giant gods.
The Archlich observed his creations with interest—these two fellows were Magok and Skul'rok, the Gronn captured by the Scourge.
Under the Scourge's technology, they had been transformed into even more terrifying war machines.
However, even though the Gronn's bodies had been enhanced by death magic and covered in specialized armor, there was still one problem to solve: the "pilots" to control the Gronn.
The original souls of the two Gronn had largely fallen silent under the suppression of death magic.
Normally, Necromancers should have resurrected them as undead disciples, but the Gronn's power mostly came from their physical bodies, and discarding them would be a waste.
So Kel'Thuzad came up with a method: to transform the Gronn into beings similar to Death Knights, capable of wielding death energy to reap souls while retaining their formidable power that could make even dragons retreat.
However, this process was not smooth sailing, but Kel'Thuzad, with his astonishing talent in death magic, nearly completed the transformation of the two Gronn using his knowledge and power.
The immediate problem to be solved now was how to control these two terrifying war machines.
In Kel'Thuzad's vision, Gronn in this state would be even more dangerous than living Gronn, because with the Gronn's inherent intelligence, they simply couldn't perfectly utilize the Scourge's intricate armaments and spells.
Therefore, if the Gronn's own souls were used to control their bodies, it would be very difficult to unleash their full potential.
Thus, Kel'Thuzad found a group of fanatical Necromancers.
These individuals had an uncontrollable madness and fondness for souls and death.
They voluntarily wished to become the controllers of the two Gronn bodies, better wielding the terrifying power.
However, previous experiments had all ended in failure.
Even with the Necromancers' enhanced souls, it was very difficult to control a Gronn's body.
Those failed Necromancers had consumed too much power during their attempts to dominate the Gronn and ended with their souls shattered.
"Great Majesty, please tell your humble servants how we can make these two behemoths serve you?"
Somewhat at a loss, Kel'Thuzad could only send a plea for help to Arthas.