After Ogrim left the cell, Grommash and Kilrogg leaned in and asked secretively, "What did the Lich King say to that elf?"
The Warchief looked at his two former and current subordinates with an expression that suggested they were simple-minded. "I couldn't understand it—do you really think I understand ancient Elven? I couldn't make out a single syllable of that stuff."
Grommash and Kilrogg exchanged glances. Oh, right, they seemed to have forgotten about that. Solarian had cast an Arcane language spell on them earlier, but after Solarian left, the magic quickly dissipated.
When Ogrim commanded Talisra to stand, he used direct soul communication, which had no language barrier, but Arthas was indeed speaking to Talisra in ancient Elven.
In fact, Talisra in the cage was even more desperate and confused. She even wondered if the Lich King was an ancient Elf from the Sundering period, but under the terrifying crown and the veil of dark magic, she couldn't see Arthas's face at all, let alone know Arthas's race.
As a result, throughout the conversation, Talisra felt she had been muddled and led by the nose, but after the Lich King's image dissipated, she suddenly realized she couldn't even recall the details of the conversation, only then belatedly realizing that she might have been affected mentally by some dark magic.
That was not actually a spell Arthas intentionally used; it was merely due to him not deliberately concealing his aura as the Lich King. Undead around him would become more invigorated and fanatical because of this wicked aura, but living beings would feel discomfort, panic, or even mental confusion.
So, perhaps apart from Arthas himself, no one else in the cell knew the details of the conversation; they only knew that Arthas had been there and talked with Talisra.
As for Arthas, he was currently discussing some information he had just learned with Malygos.
"Elisande intends to stay cooped up in her shell forever, with no intention of lifting the barrier. Talisra and Oculeus only snuck out because they were curious about the changes in the outside world's Arcane Ley Lines."
However, there were some additional gains.
"But Talisra's words and actions revealed a hidden problem—Suramar is currently facing some kind of conflict, and Talisra is trying to resolve it, but the Grand Magistrix is not interested in doing so."
This was actually the most effective information obtained from Talisra, and it aligned with some things Arthas already knew.
Malygos was currently reading some records about Suramar and its surrounding areas. When he turned to the page about the Withered, his finger stopped turning the pages. "Hmph... these elves are all like this. The Highborne were like this, and their descendants are the same."
The Withered, the ultimate fate of the Shal'dorei who lost the Nightwell's protection. Without the Nightwell's magical nourishment, the Arcane's blessing, along with their lives, Withered rapidly like winter flowers, until the last trace of magic vanished with their sanity, leaving only a husk craving Arcane magic.
As early as the ancient Kaldorei period, there were cruel punishments that stripped a Highborne of their connection to Arcane magic. Most elves who lost the Arcane's favor would also turn into something similar to the Withered.
This is a common ailment rooted in races that overuse magic, but the difference between any latercomers and the Highborne is that the Highborne once possessed the Well of Eternity.
Malygos could guess with his beard that relying solely on the Nightwell's power to maintain a shield for ten thousand years, without depending on the original Arcane Ley Lines, and still needing to satisfy the extravagant lives of the Highborne nobles within, it was only a matter of time before mana rationing became an issue. That it took until today for Talisra to be anxious to resolve it meant Elisande had managed it quite well!
Even the power of the pillars of creation could not withstand the Shal'dorei's actions like this, because even if the artifact's energy supply was infinite, there was still an upper limit to its output, and something with an upper limit could never satisfy the elves' appetites.
The Well of Eternity couldn't satisfy Azshara, so could the Nightwell satisfy Elisande and the numerous hedonistic Nightborne nobles?
This only made Malygos even more enraged, and when he saw that quite a few Withered dared to attack the Blue Dragon's habitat in Aszuna, his face turned ashen, and he slammed his hands down, the heavy book making a dull thud.
"Since Elisande intends to seal Suramar for another ten thousand years without external interference," Arthas glanced at Malygos, who was fuming with nowhere to vent, "using force to make Elisande submit is the best method right now."
The other Guardian Dragons also fell silent, not intending to object, but rather tacitly approving of this approach—what the Shal'dorei were doing was truly absurd, locking themselves in a bubble for ten thousand years. If there weren't enough external factors to interfere, they would probably lock themselves in for another ten thousand years.
Furthermore, considering they valued their lives more than anything, if the Burning Legion's vanguard and Kil'jaeden truly arrived at Sargeras' Tomb, would these guys directly side with the Legion to secure their survival?
Perhaps among the Highborne ten thousand years ago, there were no shortage of heroes who sought to save their people, but do this group of unambitious, "mana-addicted" nobles in Suramar ten thousand years later truly have any integrity to speak of?
Rather than letting them turn Suramar into an enemy asset, it would be better to take control of Suramar themselves.
Thus, the Dragon Army and the Scourge's naxxanar departed directly from Northrend, heading straight for the Broken Isles.
The last to be treated this way was Ulduar, when Loken was in charge after Yogg-Saron broke free.
However, Ulduar hasn't been peaceful lately, because Mimiron restored some of the memories he had destroyed. This mechanical master had some issues with his memory integration program, causing chaos in Ulduar.
The Guardians who were still recovering also had no energy to deal with Mimiron, until Mimiron was about to leave Ulduar with a replica of the Norgannon Disc, only to be stopped by Thorim and Hodir.
"Where are you going? Our duty is to guard Ulduar, not to run around, and certainly not to let you leave with the Disc!" Thorim carefully held Mimiron's mechanical Gnome body, afraid of crushing him into pieces if he used too much force.
"Guard! Guard your ****! Yogg-Saron is already dead!" Mimiron, perhaps still suffering from the side effects of memory fusion, seemed extremely irritable. "You see what Lei Deng has done!"
Thanks to the Norgannon Disc's connection to all Titan facilities on Azeroth, Mimiron retrieved data about Uldum from it, but this retrieval almost scared his mechanical brain out of its wits.
Ten thousand years ago, after Lei Deng disappeared, a Mogu fanatic actually attempted to seize control of the Origin Engine and restart all of Azeroth!
It was fortunate that the Mogu did not succeed, otherwise there would have been nothing left for these Guardians to do. Although Lei Deng was very unreliable, the subordinates he left to guard the Origin Engine were quite dependable, desperately holding back the Mogu army. Although they illegally activated the Origin Engine to fight the enemy, it was a desperate measure in a dire situation, better than the Origin Engine being controlled by a Mogu madman.
However, perhaps due to reading too much data at once, Mimiron's mind was currently somewhat chaotic, causing his language system to incorporate a lot of aggressive language.
"Lei Deng is even respectfully called Lei Deng by the Mogu, but I see him as an old fool. He can't even manage his own creations and almost had the Hall of Origination snatched away! He's ten thousand times more unreliable than Odin!"
Thorim and Hodir naturally didn't understand Mimiron's strange sentences, which were mixed with various racial linguistic styles, but they could see that Mimiron's mechanical brain was showing signs of overheating. So, Thorim gave Hodir a look, and Hodir immediately opened his mouth and exhaled a blast of cold wind.
The cold wind, mixed with ice and snow, rushed forward, raising plumes of high-temperature steam from Mimiron's head. The mechanical master finally calmed down.
"Oh, damn it, I read and deciphered too much data, and the processor actually overheated. It seems I still need to improve the computing power and heat dissipation of my central processor—but what I just said is true, we'd best go to the Hall of Origination to help Brann. Although Lei Deng is missing, the lesser Guardians he left behind are still guarding the Hall of Origination. You should know that at that time, it was also a frontline against C'Thun, and the lesser Guardians left there were all combat-enhanced models."
Thorim "uh-ed" and said, "We need to discuss this matter further."
Upon hearing this, Mimiron immediately showed signs of overheating again and began to babble: "Discuss what?! By the time you discuss a result, Brann will be dead, his body cold, and the Ironforge family tree will have been written a hundred years from now!"
As it turned out, Mimiron was right; the Guardians in the Hall of Origination were all exceptionally skilled.
If it weren't for Lothar and Anub'arak...
Brann, with lingering fear, picked up his hat, half-burned by a scorching Holy Light ray, and hid behind a stone pillar, watching the Scourge duo entangled with a tall obsidian construct.
Arthas wasn't sure how smoothly Lothar and Anub'arak's Hall of Origination exploration mission would go, because he was currently preparing to personally lead the Scourge to conquer an ancient city that had existed for ten thousand years.
The Scourge, of course, wouldn't think this was a difficult task, because under the Lich King's leadership, they had once successfully breached the walls of Ulduar, a place almost as ancient as the world of order.
Moreover, this time, almost all the Guardian Dragons were mobilized, and Onyxia even appeared in the skies above the Broken Isles with the remaining members of the Black Dragonflight.
With Arthas's guarantee, the Guardian Dragons tacitly approved Onyxia's presence, because Deathwing had already been buried with Yogg-Saron beneath the extreme northern frost, and most of the Black Dragons led by Onyxia were exempt from the bloodline corruption originating from Deathwing.
However, when Arthas and Onyxia discussed whether she should inherit the title of "Earth Guardian," the Black Dragon Princess, who usually loved to meddle, became timid and fearful.
"What, the title and authority of Earth Guardian are currently vacant, and that's your father's legacy. Aren't you going to inherit it?" Arthas was now curious about what Onyxia was thinking.
Onyxia showed a smile, but it looked worse than a cry. "If it's about becoming the leader of the Black Dragonflight, then it must be me. Anyway, Sabelian also became a member of the Scourge for defying your will, but Earth Guardian… let's forget it. I don't want to become a madman like my father."
At the end of her words, Onyxia's tone carried a hint of grievance and unwillingness. After all, if Neltharion hadn't accepted the blessing from the Titans, he might not have become Deathwing, and she wouldn't have to live under the shadow of her mad father every day.
"But if you don't become the Earth Guardian, you might never be able to restore the Black Dragonflight to its former glory."
Arthas's words plunged Onyxia into silence. She didn't want to become a Guardian and bear heavy responsibilities, but when she thought of her kin who, like her, had suffered inhumane treatment from Deathwing, she found it difficult to directly refuse to become the Earth Guardian.
After Neltharion went mad, he was no longer the steady and solemn Earth Guardian; he was just a madman who valued efficiency and profit, with only a shred of sanity left. Weaker Black Dragons even suffered annihilation before Deathwing's enemies, including a considerable number of Dragon Whelps and Wyrmlings.
Deathwing was no longer a benevolent elder but a madman without a bottom line. He used those dragons as test subjects for his insane experiments. In the laboratories of Blackrock Mountain alone, the number of dead Black Dragons was no less than that of the other four-colored dragonflights.
"I'll consider it… Arthas, but no matter what, thank you, thank you for everything you've done for the Black Dragons."
Arthas waved his hand. To his enemies, he was a ruthless and cold Death Knight, but to his friends and subordinates, he was still the sunny, cheerful, and helpful paladin Prince of Lordaeron.
Although Onyxia submitted to the Lich King due to force, Arthas didn't truly treat this Black Dragon Princess as a slave. Instead, he granted her a considerable amount of power, allowing her to control Blackrock Mountain while also helping her find the Black Dragons who had sought refuge in the Outland.
Most of those Black Dragons, being far from Deathwing and his control, were not deeply corrupted. They originally pledged allegiance to Sabelian, but Sabelian had now become a Dragon Lich, so those Black Dragons could only follow Onyxia, leave the Outland, and return to Azeroth, hoping to one day restore the Black Dragonflight's status.
Onyxia, no matter how ungrateful, would not forget these favors, which were comparable to rebuilding the Black Dragonflight. Not to mention, Arthas also possessed terrifying strength like her father, being one of the strongest entities on the continent of Azeroth. Onyxia now experienced the happiness of "enjoying the shade of a big tree."
Just as the Guardian Dragons and the Scourge were gathering in the Broken Isles, not everyone in Suramar was idle. When Astromancer Etraeus, as usual, opened his astrolabe and began to use astromancy, his face was instantly engulfed by shock and fear.
This usually elegant and composed astromancer couldn't even maintain his levitation spell and, after falling from mid-air, dared not linger. He stumbled out of the observatory.
Soon, Etraeus's discovery reached Elisande's ears. The Grand Magistrix was originally enjoying her afternoon tea until Etraeus's news startled her to stand upright from her chair.
Her tall body was mostly exposed, covered in shimmering Arcane runes, but the important parts that were covered were still wrapped in exquisitely luxurious fabric and ornaments, with exaggerated shoulder pads and a crown on her shoulders and head. These seemingly decorative items were actually meticulously designed magical artifacts by the Nightborne, possessing powerful effects.
"What did you say?!"
Elisande tried her best to remain calm, but her unconsciously clenched fists still betrayed her inner unease.
— Etraeus discovered that the sky above Suramar had disappeared, replaced by a pitch-black shadow veil, and a sky full of Guardian Dragons and naxxanar emitting a deathly aura.
Those fortresses spewed foul plague, and even floating high above the ground, Etraeus seemed to hear the wailing and screaming of the vengeful spirits within them—the lamentations of countless world souls, with stubborn sinners from the River Styx becoming the war energy of the Scourge.
Even more terrifying, after Etraeus's gaze swept over one of the naxxanar, his presence was immediately targeted by a terrifying will. Even the well-traveled Etraeus, the moment he was locked onto by that cold will, was so terrified that he couldn't control himself. He finally almost forced himself to cut off the connection to the observatory, attempting to hide Suramar's existence.
But that was simply impossible.
Etraeus also knew in his heart that his actions were like a strider burying its head in a bush and then expecting predators not to find it. Suramar's massive magical shield was a giant target, and the enemy had already hovered over Suramar's sky; it couldn't be hidden by self-deception.
"Grand Magistrix, we should immediately activate the emergency plan now, concentrate all the city's resources, and supply the Nightwell to output a shield!" Etraeus immediately suggested after telling Elisande what he had seen. "There are terrifying presences in those naxxanar that we cannot contend with!"
Was Suramar's doomsday approaching?
When the Scourge's war machine starts, the living will feel ultimate despair.
—This is the sentence the defenders of Suramar can most resonate with right now.
Although Suramar's shield had not yet been removed, seeing the endless armies of the Scourge, the faces of the Nightborne defenders were filled with numbness and despair.
They could still set up defenses in the outermost city circle because the Nightwell's shield had not disappeared, but once this shield was breached, the Nightborne soldiers could not imagine how they would resist the Scourge's advance.
Magister Orourel's expression was extremely solemn; even through the indestructible Nightwell shield, she could clearly sense the immense pressure from the Scourge.
"Grand Magistrix, we have assembled all available forces, but…" Orourel hesitated for a moment, then continued, "Our numbers are still far fewer than the undead."
If the undead outside were merely low-level cannon fodder monsters, then Suramar would not be so tense; their magical weapons and constructs, as well as their mages, could easily destroy hundreds of thousands of Skeleton Soldiers and Ghouls.
But the problem was that the number of spellcasters in the Scourge was very likely greater than in Suramar, plus those war golems and weapons that the Nightborne had never heard of or seen. Once the Nightwell shield was broken, they would have no chance in a frontal battle.
As for street fighting… no one dared to even think about it. Close-quarters combat with undead who feared no death and cared not for attrition in the city? There was no way to seek death like that. The comrade who was covering you one second might pierce your chest with a blade the next, turning you into an undead like him.
Elisande was not a fool; she naturally foresaw the tragic state of Suramar after the shield was breached. However, her slightly pale cheeks were because no matter how she predicted the future, even increasing her absorption of the Nightwell's power, she could still only see the outcome of Suramar's shield being breached.
In other words, Suramar was bound to lose this battle, and the day they perished would be the day the shield was breached.
...
"I have interfered with the flow of time here. No matter how Elisande observes, she will only be able to see the outcome of Suramar's defeat."
Nozdormu gazed at the illusory Hourglass of Time in his hand. Suramar's timeline had been temporarily peeled away and hidden by him. Elisande, even with the power of the Nightwell, could only observe existing possibilities, but the Lord of Time directly concealed countless possibilities, showing Elisande only what he wanted her to see.
"Hmm, this is good too. If we can break their will to fight, perhaps we can take Suramar without bloodshed." Alexstrasza was also quite satisfied with this result. As the Life-Binder, she also did not want to see too many lives die in war.
"War is cruel; it's impossible for no one to be sacrificed at all." Malygos's expression was solemn. "Even we might die in battles against the Burning Legion or the Old Gods."
"Nozdormu is done here. How is your analysis of the Suramar shield coming along, Malygos?" Alexstrasza asked another critical question.
Malygos immediately gave an answer: "It still needs a little more time, but it's close. We'll have results by tomorrow at the latest."
The Nightborne's Arcane magic had deviated from the common magical system during ten thousand years of isolated development. Moreover, instead of utilizing the primitive ley lines spread across Azeroth, they used the raw Arcane power from the Nightwell, which is the eye of aman'thul, making their magic seem wondrous and novel even to Malygos.
Unfortunately, as a Weaver who received the blessing of the Titans, Malygos still had a very high level of understanding of this primitive Arcane power related to the Titans. With such a high-level comprehension, it was not too difficult to reverse-engineer the structure of the Nightborne's shield.
"Originally, this would have taken longer, but the Shal'dorei are clearly afraid and have begun to recklessly increase the energy output to strengthen the shield, which will actually affect the shield's stability."
Malygos had basically understood the principle of the Nightwell's shield generation and also knew its biggest flaw: the Nightborne were overly concerned about the shield being breached, so they recklessly increased energy output to strengthen the shield. While this indeed greatly improved the shield's strength, whether the shield's own structure could support such energy flow became a major problem.
Of course, this was not a foolish move, because if the shield wasn't strengthened and was directly breached head-on, the Shal'dorei would be completely powerless to resist. The Grand Magistrix was essentially gambling that the Scourge would not choose to waste time and troops in Suramar due to the shield's existence.
However, Malygos's presence foiled all of the Grand Magistrix's plans to avoid battle, because he would soon be able to break Suramar's last barrier.
"Arthas said that the Scourge can take full responsibility for the frontal assault; we only need to provide necessary air support."
...
A day later, outside Suramar City, the area beyond the shield was covered with the corpses of low-level undead, and large tracts of land were scorched earth. The Scourge's latest attack was repelled by Suramar's defenders.
However, the defending Suramar officers and soldiers showed no joy or relief. Their eyes were bloodshot, and their hands gripping their weapons trembled incessantly.
For a full day and night, the Scourge gave them no time to rest, launching attacks at any moment. The Nightborne mages had already exhausted their minds, and someone would faint every time a group spell was cast.
Even more despairing was that when they sent out Arcane constructs, preparing to suppress the Scourge's offensive and push the front line away from the shield's edge, the dragons in the sky would breathe out various spectacular dragon breaths, burning the Nightborne's counterattack to ashes. And while the more cumbersome large constructs could withstand dragon breath, they could not resist the Scourge naxxanar's Void Annihilation beams.
The bio-organs derived from the Old Gods' flesh were directly mounted on the naxxanar's firing platforms. These giant cannon-like biological tissues released destructive Annihilation rays with every breath.
The Scourge seemed to be wearing down the Nightborne's stamina. Continuous cannon fodder attacks left the Nightborne exhausted, but they couldn't ignore the low-level undead swarming in. Because at first, they thought the grand shield could directly degrade those cannon fodder undead, but not long after, a section of the defense line was almost breached by a Void explosion.
Only then did the Nightborne realize that those seemingly low-level cannon fodder randomly carried terrifyingly powerful unstable Void bombs, which would trigger violent explosions upon contact with a magical barrier.
This method of attack had almost no cost or burden for the Scourge, but the Nightborne absolutely dared not ignore this rogue offensive.
"Have you made your decision, Elisande?"
The Lich King's voice echoed in Elisande's ear, and the Grand Magistrix's body tensed—her soldiers had found the beacon at the spot that was almost breached, and the Nightborne had brought the Lich King's image generator back to Night Hold.
Arthas watched Elisande. He could feel the power of the Nightwell, and Elisande's immense Arcane magic… but unfortunately, she was not his opponent, far from it.
"What exactly do you want?"
Elisande had not felt so powerless in ten thousand years; even with the power of the Nightwell, she still dared not fight the king before her. Now, she could only compromise, hoping to gain concessions from the Scourge and the Guardian Dragons.
"What I want is nothing else but this city of yours."
Arthas's words were astonishing. For a moment, Elisande even felt there was no need to continue the conversation—the undead wanted a city of living people… Didn't that mean wiping out the Nightborne?
But as a Grand Magistrix, her rationality and intuition made her realize she needed to know more. It was only a matter of time before Suramar was breached. Even if the Scourge didn't kill all the Nightborne, merely occupying the Nightwell would leave the Nightborne with no way to survive.
"You know this is impossible," Elisande's raised voice quickly lowered. Circumstances were stronger than her; it was better to yield now than to have a blade at her throat and then yield. "If you want the Nightwell, the only outcome will be a fight to the death."
The next second, Elisande would be grateful for her rationality.
"The Nightwell is not what I want. That mana spring, which can only be used for self-deception, is useless to me. If you cooperate, you will still be Suramar's Grand Magistrix, but if you refuse… well, I think someone will be willing to take your place."
Elisande's mind was racing: without the Nightwell, what else in Suramar could he covet? But no matter what, first ensuring the Nightborne would not suffer annihilation was the most important thing…
Elisande, thinking she had grasped some bargaining chips, decided to negotiate with the Lich King, "You need our city… We can open the shield, but we demand that the Scourge not enter the core areas of our city."
Arthas retorted with a playful and mocking tone, "Why do you think you're qualified to bargain with me, Elisande? This is an announcement, not a negotiation."
"Then I'll only think this is a trick for you to deceive us into opening the shield and surrendering," Elisande stubbornly maintained her defiance. Although the power of the Nightwell had given her a premonition, she was now gambling that the Lich King didn't know how long it would take to breach the shield.
After she finished speaking, Arthas suddenly burst into laughter.
"Hahaha… Elisande, it's been a long time since I've met someone like you. You make me very happy. I will consider bestowing upon you the chance to witness what is called… a miracle."
As Arthas's words ended, the Lich King's image also vanished, but a heavy sense of unease began to linger in Elisande's heart from that moment on. She belatedly realized that she might have made a serious mistake.
"Buzz—!"
A violent roar and tremor attacked all of Suramar without warning. Everyone in the city was stimulated by the intense energy fluctuations, causing dizziness and ringing in their ears. Even the impregnable Night Hold trembled slightly under this wave.
Elisande watched in disbelief at the ripples in the water glass on the table. Her powerful magical perception allowed her to sense that the energy response of Suramar's shield was rapidly increasing.
At this moment, above Suramar's sky, Malygos and his three magical illusions were spewing strong torrents of raw energy towards the structural weaknesses of the Great Shield. The Weaver manipulated massive amounts of raw Arcane energy, pouring it into the Great Shield. The concentrated magic rays even ionized the air, drawing brilliant electric arcs in the sky.
"Arthas, it's your turn."
Malygos transmitted, he had already overloaded the shield. At this moment, it was both the strongest and most unstable it would be. As long as enough force struck the shield, it could cause a chain reaction throughout the entire shield, counteracting the Great Shield that enveloped all of Suramar.
On the naxxanar's observation platform, Arthas picked up Frostmourne, which was leaning against the railing. After being gripped by its master, the magic sword began to tremble incessantly. Frostmourne also grew excited; Arthas was finally going to unleash his power without restraint. The immense energy that twisted space gathered at the tip of Frostmourne.
At this moment, all the undead in Azeroth seemed to sense something. They all looked up towards the Broken Isles, though they couldn't directly see Arthas's figure, they could feel the soul-shaking tremors and deathly fluctuations piercing through them.
"All… things… end."
A low chant, yet clearly resounding in the ears of all living beings in Suramar. That was not Arthas's voice, but the reverence and praise of all the departed souls for their king.
The Nightborne looked up at the sky in horror. In that instant, all things between heaven and earth seemed to lose their color. A pitch-black beam, dotted with pale light, tore the sky in half—the ultimate fusion of death and darkness, a forbidden magic that destroyed all things.
The moment the light beam struck the Great Shield, all the Nightborne in Suramar felt a tremor in their hearts. The next second, their bodies stood uncontrollably still. All soldiers dropped their weapons, and the Magisters couldn't even utter their casting incantations.
Oru'rel stared blankly at the Lich King's world-destroying power. Her proud magical swordsmanship paled in comparison. She once thought that by fusing the Nightwell's power and combining magic with swordsmanship, she was unparalleled. But when the true strong one's pressure crushed all of Suramar, she finally understood what fear was.
The death magic crushed down. The Great Shield, already overloaded, suffered such a violent energy collision. Normally, it could have held out a bit longer, but after being overloaded by Malygos, the moment it contacted Arthas's power, the chain reaction of collapse spread throughout the entire shield.
The Nightborne watched helplessly as the shield that had protected them from cataclysms was shattered by Arthas's power. Along with it, their fighting spirit and determination also shattered.
What about holding the line until the last moment? What about perishing with Suramar?… Ridiculous, were they harder than the Great Shield?
Equally shocked were the Guardian Dragons. Besides marveling at Arthas's power, what shocked them even more was that they saw runes etched in the space around the death rift, runes they had never seen before. But just by seeing those runes, the Guardian Dragons understood what they represented.
"Absolute Dominance."
Arthas exhaled softly. He wielded this power from The Jailer with perfect mastery, because, in some respects, he possessed higher authority than even the Death Pantheon.
The moment he shattered the shield, Arthas's figure distorted. He had already locked onto Elisande's location, and as the shadow veil spread, he opened a teleportation channel.
Elisande had just recovered and was frantically rushing to the center of the fortress, where she could maximize the Nightwell's power. Before she could even connect with the Nightwell's energy, Malygos in his humanoid form and his three magical projections teleported into the room, directly locking down the Nightwell's energy channels.
Malygos saw Elisande, who was about to use the Nightwell's magic, and snorted coldly, locking down the surrounding space to prevent Elisande from teleporting away.
The guards and Magisters stationed in Night Hold had just raised their weapons towards Malygos when Arthas's figure appeared behind Elisande.
He lightly patted Elisande's shoulder and said slowly, "Surrender, or die."
The guards' movements immediately froze, a blue light flashed in their eyes, and then they withdrew their weapons, "guarding" Elisande on all sides.
Elisande had always been a person who knew how to adapt to circumstances. If she hadn't understood the concept of retreating gracefully, Suramar would have been destroyed during the Great Sundering ten thousand years ago, just like other elven cities.
It was precisely because she knew how to adjust her position according to the prevailing winds that when the Kaldorei Empire was strong, she was Azshara's confidante, obeying the queen's commands. After the queen's downfall, she immediately became the dictator of Suramar, Grand Magistrix Elisande.
Now, Suramar faced a crisis similar to the one ten thousand years ago, but this time, Elisande was far more anxious than before.
"I… I surrender to you, mighty Lich King."
"Only the wise adapt to the times, Elisande."
Arthas withdrew Frostmourne from Elisande's waist. Feeling the cold blade, which had penetrated her soul, gradually recede, Elisande finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Even if she wanted to die a heroic death, she didn't want to know what it felt like to be killed by that sword. Rather than being run through by Frostmourne, it was better to surrender. Now she shouldn't have to worry about her life; after all, the Lich King would likely ensure the stability of Suramar, and she, as the Grand Magistrix, still had a reason to live.
Elisande was actually right. Arthas had no intention of dismantling Suramar's original power structure. A major battle was about to take place in the nearby waters, and without a strong leader like Elisande, who had controlled the city for ten thousand years, it was unknown what kind of internal divisions might emerge among the Nightborne.
Replacing the Grand Magistrix was a minor issue. It would be far more troublesome if the Nightborne of Suramar defected or rebelled, turning into a chaotic mess.
"These raw energies are extremely powerful. Perhaps we can use this wellspring to accomplish our plan."
Malygos, who was suppressing the Nightwell's connection to Elisande, had set his sights on the immense energy contained within the eye of aman'thul, but this statement made Elisande's expression turn very unnatural.
Arthas noticed the change in Elisande's demeanor. The Nightwell was the lifeblood of the Nightborne. Even the Grand Magistrix Elisande, if cut off from the Nightwell and exiled to the wilderness, would only end up as a Withered.
Elisande didn't know what Malygos and Arthas planned to do with the Nightwell, but having a being far more powerful than herself set its sights on the Nightwell, which they relied on for survival, naturally made Elisande extremely anxious—as the Grand Magistrix of Suramar for ten thousand years, she had never been in such a passive position as she was today.
However, things had come to this. As the defeated party, the Nightborne were not in a position to negotiate on their own terms; they had no sovereignty whatsoever.
"This well can provide us with a lot of help. Your Scourge should also have a use for it… Hmm, for the first time, I think what these elves are doing is somewhat useful."
Seeing that Malygos was about to completely separate the Nightwell from the Nightborne, Elisande, fearing the destruction of her entire race at her hands, finally couldn't hold back.
"Please do not destroy the Nightwell… The Nightborne will obey your commands, and our continued existence can also provide you with assistance," Elisande pleaded, risking her life.
"Hmm?" Malygos looked at Elisande in confusion. Had he said he was going to destroy this well?
"If you can demonstrate your value, the Nightwell will be safe."
Arthas certainly had no intention of completely annihilating the Nightborne. Their knowledge and power were useful tools against the Legion. Integrating Suramar as a whole, rather than having them as scattered skirmishers fighting individually, was quite beneficial.
The Nightwell was an excellent means of controlling the Nightborne. Only a fool would sever the Nightborne's connection to the Nightwell. Regardless of whether they would retaliate like cornered dogs, turning these elves into a group of Withered would be utterly worthless.
Arthas pushed Elisande aside, watched as Elisande was supported by her "loyal" subordinates, and then opened another portal, releasing Talisra, who had been imprisoned in the Skyhold.
"Talisra?"
Elisande didn't understand why her subordinate was in the Lich King's hands, but she didn't suspect Talisra of betrayal at all, because in her eyes, although Talisra was a bit stubborn, her loyalty to Suramar was her best quality.
Talisra was currently unconscious, but Elisande glanced at her and found that, apart from being unresponsive, her advisor had no other injuries. She looked at Arthas in confusion, not understanding the Lich King's intention.
"Manage your subjects well, be careful with your words and actions, and don't create new problems… and those nobles, if you don't keep a close eye on them, I will deal with them for you."
Arthas had no fondness for the extravagant and debauched nobles of Suramar. They were the true opportunists of Suramar; today they might submit to the Scourge, and tomorrow they might submit to the Burning Legion for greater gain or self-preservation.
Talisra was an excellent "tool" for restraining the nobles. Unless absolutely necessary, Elisande would not easily give up Talisra.
"Yes… Thank you for your mercy, Lich King."
...
At the top of the Night Hold, the palace originally reserved for Elisande to "enjoy" the Nightwell's power had now become a conference room and temporary residence for the Guardian Dragons and the Lich King to discuss strategy.
"These elves' arcane addiction is deeply ingrained, even worse than the Quel'dorei."
After touring the city, Malygos discovered that almost everyone in Suramar was deeply immersed in the Nightwell's magic, far more severely than the High Elves. Once the Nightwell was seized or destroyed, the Nightborne would instantly lose their combat effectiveness, and even survival would become an issue.
"This is a hidden danger…" Ysera said with some concern. "The plight of these children is worse than we imagined. Elisande, in order to centralize power, has heavily favored these nobles with vast resources, while the common people live in dire circumstances with no one to care for them."
"Suramar is already a dilapidated structure; the slightest exposure of problems could cause it to crumble," Arthas commented. "But there's no need to worry too much. This problem is not unsolvable. Our current focus must be on how to severely cripple Kil'jaeden."
"I have already sent my adjutant to scout the temple filled with corrupted power. The good news is that, apart from scattered demons, there are no other major threats on the beach there."
As Malygos spoke, he summoned an image of Sargeras' Tomb for everyone to observe. "It's just that the main entrance of that temple is tightly sealed with a ward placed by Aegwynn. I'm not sure if forcibly breaking the seal will cause any harm; this requires practical testing."
"That Fallen Titan's avatar is a very significant threat. We had best prepare our defenses first… Hmm, Malygos, what is that place?" Alexstrasza's finger pointed to a strange camp on the holographic magic map.
Malygos immediately zoomed in on that location. He narrowed his eyes slightly. "This is… a Naga banner?"
"It seems our 'allies' have arrived."
Illidan and Vashj arrived at the Broken Shore a few days before the Scourge captured Suramar, building a base there. While he had Vashj summon more Naga to assist, he himself was researching how to enter Sargeras' Tomb to acquire what he desired.
As an ancient temple burying the avatar of the Dark Titan, it concealed countless dangers and mysteries. Illidan's ultimate goal was to obtain some 'legacy' from that avatar, personally shaped by the Dark Titan, something capable of swaying the situation.
But Sargeras' Tomb was not so easy to enter. Having absorbed gul'dan's skull and gained some of Gul'dan's memories, Illidan clearly understood that this tomb was far more dangerous than it appeared from the outside. To be fully prepared, he had to risk exposing himself by having Vashj seek help.
As Illidan's loyal subordinate, Vashj naturally complied without hesitation, but her actions quickly attracted the attention of certain entities. Although Vashj had considered this possibility, to not disappoint Illidan's trust in her, she took a huge risk to complete this task.
However, what was bound to happen always did. When the uninvited guest appeared on the shores of the Broken Shore, Vashj suppressed the urge to tell Illidan to flee, and bravely went to meet this 'guest'.
Vashj watched the figure slowly glide onto the land. She recognized the other party: Queen Azshara's confidante, Deep Sea Matron Sassreen. Although the other party came alone, Vashj knew that behind the seemingly calm sea, hidden were terrifying creatures far beyond their imagination.
"Vashj, Her Majesty the Queen is very disappointed in you." Matron Sassreen spoke the title that made Vashj tremble the moment she saw her.
Vashj, who had faced countless battles and feared not even death, recalled what fear and timidity truly felt like. "I never thought of betraying Her Majesty the Queen."
"Really?"
Matron Sassreen asked mockingly. Vashj could only resign herself to lowering her head. The outcome for betraying the Queen was usually only one: a painful death.
However, the outcome she imagined did not occur. Sassreen quickly said, "Although I believe you and that lowly Night Elf bastard should be executed immediately, the magnanimous Queen has given you a second chance—go find the tidestone, and I will give you some assistance."
The tidestone?
Vashj didn't know why Queen Azshara wanted to use her and Illidan's power to find that artifact, but she had no chance to refuse.
After a brief negotiation, Sassreen waved her hand, and a large group of elite Naga soldiers emerged from the sea behind her. Before leaving, she specifically instructed a burly behemoth, "Hiatan, go protect my dear sister's safety."
As Sassreen's figure disappeared into the tide, Vashj breathed a sigh of relief, but her nerves still hadn't relaxed—the soldiers Sassreen brought her were less of a help and more of an oversight to prevent her from escaping again. She had to report these matters to Illidan immediately.
...
"So that's the origin of those Naga soldiers?" Illidan's expression remained calm, leaving Vashj unsure of what the Demon Hunter was thinking.
Vashj looked at Hiatan, who was guarding the door, and said somewhat ashamed, "I'm sorry, Lord Illidan."
To her surprise, Illidan merely shook his head. "This is not a big deal, and what Azshara wants does not conflict with us. The notes I obtained from some demons record that to unlock the seal of Sargeras' avatar, the tidestone and several other artifacts are also needed. We are currently short on strength, and this deal with Azshara is not inappropriate."
Since Azshara wanted the tidestone, then he would give it to her. Illidan also had no intention of taking away the pillars of creation. Although those artifacts could provide strong power, maintaining them long-term would bring more trouble.
Once the deep door of the tomb containing Sargeras' avatar was opened, Illidan would have a proper trump card, allowing him to speak with confidence even when facing Kil'jaeden directly.
As for what Azshara wanted to do, Illidan did not intend to delve deeper. What that Queen coveted was certainly not as simple as just power. After all, Illidan had some understanding of what Azshara relied on, and the fact that she suddenly began seeking other powers... handing the tidestone to Azshara might not be a bad thing.
"Then you lead those Naga to find the whereabouts of the tidestone—my intuition tells me it's best not to stay too long at the Broken Shore. We haven't deliberately concealed our presence, and the Lich King has most likely already set his sights on us."
Only when Illidan spoke of Arthas did he truly become serious. Compared to Azshara, he found Arthas, whose true intentions were completely unclear, even more unfathomable. As a product snatched from the Burning Legion's grasp, he found it difficult to completely relax about the Scourge's existence.
But he couldn't concern himself with that much now. As long as he obtained what was in Sargeras' Tomb, then regardless of whether Arthas truly wanted to trick Kil'jaeden or had some other plan, Illidan would have the ability to cope.
...
"Is this the eye of aman'thul...? Hmm, the primal magic flowing within it even makes me feel a slight tremor." Malygos examined the ancient marvel in his hand, exclaiming in wonder, "I need some time to study this relic. Perhaps we can use it to leave Kil'jaeden with a 'deep memory'."
Ysera also said at the same time, "I have already sent my messenger to Val'sharah to retrieve elune's tears. It shouldn't be long before there's news."
"Onyxia also went to look for the Hammer of Khaz'goroth. She is Neltharion's daughter, so she should know Highmountain very well." Alexstrasza looked at the high peak beneath the sky, a hint of worry in her eyes. "Neltharion was once the Guardian of that land, but Deathwing brought them too much suffering... I'm a little worried that Onyxia might encounter trouble."
"This is necessary training." Malygos was concise, not intending to interfere too much with Onyxia's affairs.
Currently, besides the tidestone, the only Pillar of Creation left was the aegis of aggramar, which only existed in Vrykul mythology. However, for the Guardian Dragons, it was not as mythical as it seemed.
"Odin's Halls of Valor, which he stripped away, should be near the bay of Stormheim... But he hasn't appeared for tens of thousands of years. How to find him is a problem."
Alexstrasza thought of that rigid and extremely strict Guardian, and couldn't help but feel a headache—Odin was definitely not someone easy to get along with, and the Guardians' thought processes were generally a bit strange. Besides Tyr, the one who could most likely have common ground with Odin was probably that brute Thorim.
"I will go talk to Odin. He might grant me an audience." Arthas voluntarily took on this task. He and Odin indeed had some acquaintance... though not with this timeline's Odin.
But he was equally confident in having a good talk with this former chief administrator. Arthas took the eye of aman'thul from Malygos's hand. "Let me borrow this for a bit."
"You—never mind, there will be plenty of time to study it later." Malygos shook his head. He also recalled Stellagosa, whom he had arranged to 'visit relatives' in Aszuna. "I also need to make a trip to Aszuna... Hmm, my undying old brother might know something about the tidestone."
"Respected Lich King, you wish to use the power of the pillars of creation to open the demon portal in Elune's Temple?!"
Elisande could hardly believe her ears; such a suicidal act was utterly baffling to her.
Ten thousand years ago, it was she who personally used the power of the pillars of creation to seal Elune's Temple, thwarting the Burning Legion's plan to turn that temple into another large portal. Aegwynn merely reinforced the existing Highborne seal and cast a spell, making it so that "neither demons nor any creature of Azeroth can break the seal."
However, no matter how prescient Aegwynn was, she never anticipated that many years later, the orcs, swayed by the Legion, would open the Dark Portal and cross the stars to arrive. The orc warlock Gul'dan, in pursuit of greater power, unsealed the first layer of Sargeras' Tomb.
Fortunately, the seal created by the ancient elves using the pillars of creation as a foundation was stable enough, otherwise Sargeras' Tomb would have long since become a landing point for the Legion's arrival.
If that were the case… in the face of the catastrophe unleashed by the Legion, Suramar would undoubtedly be the first unlucky victim, especially now that Suramar's great shield had disintegrated, leaving them without even a first line of defense against the demons.
As for surrendering to the demons? Elisande knew they had no such choice; once they betrayed the Scourge and the Guardian Dragons, the Lich King and the Guardian Dragons would annihilate the Nightborne first.
Therefore, Suramar's fate was already tied to Azeroth, and Elisande naturally did not want to risk unsealing Sargeras' Tomb.
"Not completely unsealed, but I need you to unseal a part of it, so that someone can activate the ancient portal within," Arthas said calmly, as if it were a trivial matter.
Arthas brought this up with Elisande because the seal on Elune's Temple, which is now Sargeras' Tomb, was originally applied under Elisande's supervision. There should be no one in this world who understands this seal better than her, and such precise operation could only be done by her.
Elisande hesitated repeatedly, but still said, "Even if I wanted to open the seal again, the problem is… the tidestone is already shattered."
To Elisande's surprise, Arthas was not surprised. He merely waved his hand, "I have already sent people to Nath'alas Academy."
…
"What, the tidestone is shattered?" Malygos was a little astonished. He had thought the artifact might be lost, but never imagined the pillars of creation could be shattered by someone. "Who did it?"
Senegos glanced at Malygos and slowly said, "Ten thousand years ago, Queen Azshara personally shattered it. Buried with it was that famous magic academy—Nath'alas."
"Azshara… that's not surprising then."
Queen Azshara, who possessed the Well of Eternity, indeed had unbelievably powerful Arcane abilities. Using the power of the Well of Eternity to destroy an ancient artifact was certainly not difficult.
"I don't know what you want the tidestone for, but that thing is very dangerous. Azshara also feared its power to freely manipulate rivers and seas, otherwise she wouldn't have destroyed it," Senegos warned. "I can't stop you from doing this, but don't drag the dragon whelps into it."
"Hmph, the old coot is still so afraid of death," Malygos scoffed. "Do you think I'm still like I was ten thousand years ago? Of course, I wouldn't let those dragon whelps get hurt, and you, staying in this wretched place, I think you're not far from death either."
Senegos did not get angry because Malygos called him afraid of death. He shifted into a more comfortable position, lying in the mana pool. "I had to take the children far away then, because I was afraid that you, having lost your mind, would personally doom the Blue Dragonflight."
Malygos was speechless at this, but he had to bear the mistakes he had made.
"That was indeed my fault, but I didn't come here to bicker with you. You should have had enough of staying in Aszuna for ten thousand years. Pack your things early and take your kin back to Coldarra. Although it's not home either, it's still better than your place—look, the mighty Blue Dragonflight, actually fighting with diggers for mana crystals in caves?"
These words struck Senegos to the core. He was old, with not many years left to live. Although he wasn't afraid of death, he feared that after his death, his kin in the Blue Dragonflight habitat would not be protected. Aszuna's ley lines had been severely damaged in the catastrophe ten thousand years ago; although they could barely sustain the Blue Dragonflight, "malnutrition" was a frequent occurrence among the younger generation of dragon whelps.
Even Senegos's own granddaughter, Stellagosa, faced the problem of not being able to obtain enough Arcane energy. This was why, for ten thousand years, the Blue Dragonflight population in the Blue Dragonflight habitat had remained at a relatively low level.
But migrating with a large group of kin was always a troublesome matter. Senegos wanted to say something more, but Malygos spoke first, "The Broken Isles will soon be unsafe. I hope my kin do not perish due to some accident, do you understand, old man? I'm not joking."
Seeing Malygos's solemn expression, Senegos also put aside his delaying thoughts and said seriously, "No wonder you are collecting the pillars of creation… Hmm, alright, I will take the children and leave today. You also be careful, don't let a mighty Guardian Dragon like yourself die before me."
"Old coot, I won't die even if you do."
Malygos cursed his old friend with a laugh, and after the two dragons looked at each other, they both burst into laughter, as if they had returned to more than ten thousand years ago, when they soared carefree in the skies of Azeroth.
As their laughter faded, Malygos said seriously, "According to you, the tidestone should be in Nath'alas Academy?"
"If no one has stolen it, it should still be dormant somewhere in the academy," Senegos recalled the academy, which had turned into ruins after that Arcane flood. "Be careful, the spirits of those elves haven't realized they're dead. Azshara's power and the changes caused by the tidestone shattering have bound them to the academy forever."
"Spirits? Heh heh… coincidentally, I happen to know a guy who's very good at dealing with undead."
Malygos hadn't expected that he would ultimately have to trouble Arthas.
Bidding farewell to Senegos, Malygos, in his dragon form, swiftly flew to the outskirts of the academy ruins, only to see that the Scourge had already set up camp outside the academy, led by Ogrim Doomhammer.
However, this powerful orc Death Knight was not idle, but was interrogating a heavily scarred Naga guard.
"What happened?" Malygos landed in the camp, transforming into his blue-haired middle-aged human form. "Why are there so many Naga here?"
Malygos pointed to the Naga corpses collected by the Scourge. Ogrim, seeing that the Weaver had come personally, also put down his "work." "Lich King sent us to help, but these Naga seem to have entered the academy first."
"Naga? How could they—"
"Let me go, you barbarians! You are too rude! I want to see your commander!"
Malygos's question was interrupted by a commotion before he could even ask it. He and Ogrim simultaneously looked towards the camp entrance and saw Grommash walking in, holding an elf.
Strangely, this was a dead elf; her transparent body indicated that she had long since died, and was now merely a spectral form.
"Highlord, I caught this fellow on the front line not far from here." Grommash's hand glowed with dark magic, and Death Grip firmly bound the elf spirit, but the other party clearly did not want to sit idly by and was still struggling incessantly.
Ogrim waved his hand, signaling Grommash to remove the magic.
"Alright, release her. I am the commander here, Ogrim. Who are you?"
"Hmph! If it were peacetime, I wouldn't be lenient with you illegal trespassers on academy grounds," the elf was still somewhat displeased about being captured, because she had originally wanted to see if she could make contact, seeing that someone else was also fighting the Naga. She hadn't expected to be caught by Grommash as soon as she crossed the front line.
Grommash, whose head was filled with nothing but muscle, couldn't be bothered to think about what faction she belonged to. He just tied her up and brought her back to Ogrim. With Ogrim there, thinking about such things was left to him—most orcs probably thought the same way.
"I am Edie the Wardens. And who are you, and why are you here?"
Although some unpleasantness had occurred, both sides were dealing with the Naga, so Edie calmed down and prepared to have a good talk.
Under the guidance of Warden Eddie, the Scourge's camp soon welcomed a second 'guest'.
Ogrim and Grommash looked at Prince Farondis, who had come alone, and asked Eddie, "Is this your leader?"
Warden Eddie corrected him, "He used to be, but now most people don't recognize him anymore."
"I... represent the Farondis Court." Prince Farondis hesitated for a moment, but still stated the faction he wished to represent. However, to his sadness and unease, he now only had himself to say it; his people would never follow or forgive him again.
"Prince Farondis?" Malygos observed the dejected elven noble ghost before him. "It seems you haven't fared well over the past ten thousand years."
"Uh... you are—Weaver?!"
Farondis looked at Malygos, first recalling that familiar face with some confusion, then shockingly remembering Malygos's identity.
"Hmm, it seems you haven't completely lost your mind like the other wraiths." Malygos could feel the immense Arcane energy emanating from Farondis. It seemed that although the Prince had failed under Azshara's power, he still retained his sanity and wasn't trapped in the moment before his destruction like the other undead.
However, Farondis only smiled bitterly at this. He self-mockingly said, "Did I truly break free from Queen Azshara's curse, or did she intentionally keep me conscious so I could feel the contempt of my subjects, thus tormenting me?"
"At least you resisted," Malygos uncharacteristically offered a word of praise. In his opinion, daring to lead one's people against that Queen was already an extraordinary feat. "You shouldn't blame yourself for this. Would surrendering to Azshara and submitting to the Burning Legion have led to a good outcome?"
"I don't know—perhaps better than being bound here in a daze for ten thousand years?" Farondis spread his hands, his brows etched with an unshakeable melancholy and dejection. Ten thousand years had nearly worn away his edges, and he had constantly pondered one question: was that resistance ten thousand years ago truly the right thing to do?
"He still doesn't understand." Warden Eddie sighed softly with some disappointment. She shook her head and bid farewell to Ogrim and Grommash, "Goodbye, big guys. My Wardens still need my command. I've been away too long. Since Farondis is here, let him speak with you."
Ogrim gestured, indicating that Warden Eddie was free to go, then turned to Grommash and said, "Take some men and clear out the Naga around here. While you're at it, find out how many of them there are, where their main camp is, and who's in command."
After assigning the tasks, Ogrim stepped forward to Farondis. "Now is not the time for melancholic thoughts—those Naga, they are after the tidestone. If you don't want even your soul to be scattered by those Naga, I suggest you join us."
Farondis was startled and subconsciously said, "The tidestone is already broken and buried deep within Nath'alas Academy—what do those Naga want with it?"
"With the right method, the shattered pillars of creation can still unleash their power," Malygos explained. "We need someone to lead us into the Academy. In exchange, the Scourge and I will guarantee the safety of the 'civilians' there. What do you say, Farondis?"
Malygos and Ogrim had originally thought it would take some effort to persuade the seemingly indecisive Prince before them. However, to their surprise, Farondis agreed to their plan without hesitation.
The Prince still carried that dejected aura, and his speech still gave off a hesitant feeling, but this time, the content of his words was strikingly different from his demeanor: "I have already failed my people once; I don't want there to be a second time."
...
Teldrassil, the World Tree, usually peaceful and serene, was now filled with anxiety and commotion.
The Night Elves were mobilizing, preparing for the impending Ancient War of the Shifting Sands. Everyone's face was solemn and grave—though they were long-lived, the Kaldorei understood sacrifice and bloodshed more clearly than other mortal races.
As early as the Legion's first invasion, it was their kin and ancestors who fought demons on the front lines, preventing Azeroth from being destroyed by the Burning Legion.
Now, they were simply fulfilling their duty once more.
In the Moon God Temple, Tyrande tried to persuade Maiev, with whom she had always had a difficult relationship. Although their relationship had softened somewhat after the battle of Mount Hyjal, Tyrande could still clearly sense Maiev's inexplicable emotions towards her.
Only this time, Tyrande noticed that Maiev, since returning from the Outland, seemed to have less of that violent and angry emotion.
"Maiev, we need you. Your people need you."
Tyrande's voice carried a hint of pleading, and Maiev could only reply helplessly, "My sister, I still need to settle those Demon Hunters captured from the Outland. If they escape, the destruction they cause to this world will be no small matter."
"Besides, I am merely a hunter. There are kin more skilled than I in the art of war. I should not be irreplaceable."
Maiev swept her bladed cloak and turned to face the bright moon outside the terrace. What she said was not wrong; the Wardens were essentially just a group of female hunters who were willing to guard Illidan with Maiev. Although each of them was proficient in combat techniques and a master in their own right, this was not rare among the Night Elves, whose lives were measured in millennia.
Tyrande choked. She actually had something even more important to say, but in front of Maiev, she couldn't bring herself to speak.
Maiev saw that Tyrande had been silent for a long time, so she turned back, intending to leave, but then she saw the lingering awkwardness on Tyrande's face.
The perceptive Warden caught that fleeting detail. She pondered for a moment and said, "High Priestess, do you have anything else to say? If not, I will go first—"
"I—sigh... I wanted to ask if you knew Garrod's whereabouts."
Tyrande had prepared herself for Maiev's wrath, but to her surprise, Maiev had no reaction this time.
In fact, Maiev was indeed a little angry. Her expression beneath her mask flickered, but in the end, all of it dissipated with a sigh.
"Garrod... I don't know either. He's been missing for a long time. I'm sorry, I can't help you, Priestess. I'm leaving now."
Tyrande watched Maiev's retreating back, and for some reason, she felt a sense of loneliness and desolation in her vigorous strides. Maiev, who had returned victorious from the Outland, did not seem overly excited; instead, she appeared very disheartened.
Walking through the streets of Darnassus, which was preparing for war, the surrounding fervor seemed not to affect Maiev's cold heart—she was more confused than ever. Illidan had suddenly disappeared at the last moment, his fate unknown. Although she had left scars on him, Illidan's mocking words still seemed to echo in her ears.
"A hunter who doesn't understand her prey will never catch her target, Maiev."
Illidan's words entanglement in her mind. Whenever she was idle, she seemed to hear Illidan's taunting voice—she had guarded Illidan for ten thousand years, and again thwarted his schemes at the Dark Temple. Yet, because of Illidan's words, she suddenly realized that her actions seemed meaningless. She hunted that betrayer like a wild beast, but repeatedly failed.
She seemed to have no understanding of Illidan's schemes or his goals. How could she catch Illidan, who was known for his cunning and treachery, by blindly chasing him all over the world like a headless fly?
Moreover, looking back over those long ten thousand years, she had given up everything, and her long vigil ultimately came to nothing. She didn't even know how Illidan escaped from prison. If, in her aimless pursuit, she lost Nasa, lost other comrades, would she be consumed by the fire of vengeance and become a second 'Illidan' who would stop at nothing?
Even when Tyrande asked about her brother's whereabouts, Maiev was full of confusion—were all her actions truly useful for the Kaldorei, for herself? Or had she been deceived by her own ridiculous lies for ten thousand years?
Maiev was unsure. She only felt that her heart was in turmoil. Perhaps the silence and emptiness of the Warden's Vault far away in Aszuna could give her a chance to re-examine her inner self.