But it wasn't just the continent of Kalimondor that had changed. Across the ocean, on the continent of Valinor, the consciousness of the World Tree was slowly beginning to awaken. That tree was now inhabited by the soul of a human from another world—one who had once spoken with Eru Ilúvatar.
Darkness...
Silmalómë.
That name surfaced—so deeply etched in my mind. That's her new name now.
Silmalómë opened her eyes, though strangely, all she could see was a view of clouds in front of her.
"Hmm~~~ where is this?"
Silmalómë felt like she couldn't move her body. She tried several times to move, but nothing worked. The sunlight was rising. Maybe I really did manage to travel through time, just like that last glowing orb said.
Silmalómë was still confused. She didn't know where she was. It didn't seem like she was moving either. All she could see ahead was clouds stretching as far as her vision could reach.
"So what the hell actually happened? Where is this?" Silmalómë kept looking around. The flora and fauna looked unfamiliar—she truly had no idea where she'd been transported.
In the distance, there was a lake. Near it stood two trees radiating bright light—one golden, one silver. Farther out, she could see massive trees and dense forests.
"I think my body's really tall now… tall enough to see the clouds. But why can't I move? This is so weird."
Silmalómë tried to look down. All she could see were tree roots stretching deep into the earth. She thought hard—what the hell am I now?
She desperately wanted to see herself.
She tried to move her hand. But the only thing that moved was a tree branch, swaying gently.
"Holy shit… this can't be real. Am I… a tree now?"
I kept observing my surroundings. Strange flora and fauna. Dense forests in the distance. Towering trees. And on the other side, a calm lake. Near it stood two glowing trees—one radiating golden light, the other silver. The view was beautiful… and completely unfamiliar.
"I think my body's really tall now… tall enough to see the clouds. But why can't I move? This is so weird."
I tried to look down. All I could see were tree roots stretching deep into the ground. I thought hard. What am I now?
I wanted so badly to see myself.
I tried to move my hand. But the only thing that moved was a tree branch, gently swaying.
"Holy shit… this can't be real. Am I… a tree now?"
Silmalómë could only curse inwardly at her new condition. Other people who experienced transmigration usually ended up as flesh-and-blood beings—a noble, a mage, or even a hero. But why the hell did she… become a tree?
"Holy shit… this is fucked up. How am I supposed to live my life now? I'm just… a tree?"
Frustration surged. She tried to move her body, tried to reach for something—anything. But only branches and leaves responded. No hands. No feet. No mouth to scream.
Suddenly, a message appeared before her. Like a transparent blue screen, with an image resembling a glowing letter. Silmalómë tried to reach for it, but of course… she couldn't. Because she was now a tree.
"How the hell am I supposed to open this message if I don't even have fingers?"
"Damn it. This is so stupid. This is the most absurd transmigration ever."
She cursed inwardly, using every foul word she'd ever learned in her previous life. And right then, the message opened on its own.
Apparently… to open the message, all she had to do was curse in her heart.
Silmalómë read the contents of the message with a mix of confusion and rage:
"To my child, Silmalómë,
I have transferred you to another world. You may only create two races, just as I once did in Tolkien's world. It all depends on your imagination.
You must take good care of them. If you wish to teach them magic, you may use my song-magic. Or you may create your own magic, but it will consume your life energy.
If that energy runs out, you will fall asleep until it recovers.
I've also created a dragon from your memories to accompany you there.
May your second life be better.
From your loving father,
Eru Ilúvatar."
Silmalómë was speechless. That message… it really was from the glowing orb she'd met before. She really had been transferred to another world. But now, the most important question surfaced:
"So where the hell am I? What world is this?"
She looked around. The continent she was on looked very similar to Valinor, and nearby she could see Middle-earth. But in the distance, she also saw a landmass that looked strikingly like ancient Kalimondor.
Silmalómë shook her head—internally. Even though her body was now a tree, her soul was still human. And her instincts were screaming: something's wrong.
"This can't be… this definitely isn't… that world."
She refused to believe it. But all signs pointed to one horrifying conclusion.
"This has to be… the world of Warcraft."
A world that, according to a Reddit forum poll, ranked third as the place time travelers least wanted to visit. Only Warhammer 40K and Warhammer Fantasy ranked higher.
In this world, death doesn't mean death. Corpses can be raised as undead. War never ends. There's the Burning Legion, the Scourge, and entities so terrifying that even a tree could become their target.
"Goddamn it. Even as a tree, I could be targeted by the Burning Legion. This is insane. This is… the most horrifying transmigration ever."
Silmalómë could do nothing but curse all day at the glowing orb that claimed to be Eru Ilúvatar—the one who had brought her to the world of Warcraft… as a tree.
Week One: Tree, Despair, and Tiny Dragons
For an entire week, Silmalómë could only wallow in despair. She cursed, complained, and lamented her fate as a tree. But no matter how hard she cursed the glowing orb that called itself Eru Ilúvatar, nothing changed. No answers. No helping hand. No body that could move.
Eventually, she began trying to accept reality. This time travel… couldn't be undone.
She looked once more at the land where she now grew.
"Hmm~~~ looks like I'm in the continent of Valinor now. Across the way is Middle-earth… but something feels off."
The flora and fauna around her looked unfamiliar. Too bright. Too alive. Too… blue?
"Why do all the plants and animals here look like they're from the movie Avatar? What Na'vi tribe is this?"
But on the other hand, she also saw elements from Tolkien's world. Nearby stood two legendary trees: Telperion and Laurelin—the sacred trees used to create the Silmarils.
"Holy shit… that's Telperion and Laurelin. So… am I the World Tree now? Or… a tree like Eywa from Avatar?"
Near her branches, she saw a calm, glowing lake. Its waters reflected the sky like a heavenly mirror.
"Is that… Cuiviénen? The lake where the first elves awoke?"
She remembered the old tales from Tolkien's world: at that lake, the first 144 elves awakened, paired as male and female.
"Hmm… how am I supposed to wake them all from the lake? This is so confusing."
Silmalómë kept thinking, trying to form a plan. But suddenly, she felt something moving on her body.
"Hmm… who's that on top of my head?"
"Eh… I guess I'm a tree now. So… that's on one of my branches?"
She tried to move her branch. And at that moment, she was completely shocked.
On her body, there were fourteen tiny kids—adorable, like fourteen-year-olds. They all fell down like they were free-falling.
"Holy shit! They're falling! How do I catch them?"
But before she could panic further, the fourteen kids transformed into dragons midair. Their wings spread wide, their bodies floated gracefully, then they landed on the ground. After that, they transformed again—back into small human forms.
Silmalómë looked at their faces one by one. And she immediately recognized several of them.
"Wait… isn't that Geraint? Velskud? Argenta? From the game Dragon Nest?"
"And the others… their faces look like people from Fairy Tail."
She froze. Confused. Amazed. Furious. Everything mixed together.
"Holy shit… why are the Fairy Tail characters dragons? I can understand Irine, Igneel, Grandine, Selene—they're actual dragons."
"But why are Mavis Vermilion, Erza Scarlet, Juvia… and the others dragons? Aren't they human?"
Silmalómë sighed—inwardly.
"This has to be… Eru Ilúvatar's doing."
A gentle voice greeted Silmalómë's consciousness from above her branches.
"Master, are you awake?"
Silmalómë froze. That voice… it was real. Not just an echo from her trapped thoughts.
"Allow us to introduce ourselves. We are the new Valar, created by the Beloved One, Eru Ilúvatar."
She tried to respond, even though she had no mouth.
"Can you hear my voice?"
"Of course, Master. We were created by our Creator, Eru Ilúvatar."
Silmalómë was stunned. So… they really could hear her. Finally, she could breathe a little easier. She wasn't alone.
"Why are you all so small right now?"
"Master, we were just created. We'll grow stronger over time. We're only twenty thousand years old."
"Hmm… I see. You may return to your usual activities."
"Understood, Master."
Silmalómë pondered. If they were only a hundred years old, then the imprisonment of the Old Gods had only recently occurred. She saw shadows of the Dragon Aspects in northern Kalimondor, where the ancient dragon nests lay. That meant she was in an era roughly 100,000 years before the Trolls emerged, and maybe 6,000 to 10,000 years before the rise of the Highborne.
"I still have a hundred thousand years to create my own race… the elves."
She knew that one day, the first war against the Burning Legion would come—summoned by Queen Azshara to the continent of Kalimondor. The explosion of the Well of Eternity would change everything. But for now, Cuiviénen Lake remained calm. The elves were still asleep.
Silmalómë tried to move her magical roots into the lake, channeling the magical energy she possessed.
"Is it useless? Seems like it'll take a long time."
Days passed. Years passed. She kept trying to awaken the elves. But the results were nil.
She started to get bored. She was a tree. A giant tree. Many eagles nested in her body. Some even laid eggs between her branches.
"Funny… I've become a home for little creatures."
But she didn't give up. She began crafting a new kind of magic: a song of light. A song that would summon elf orbs—light-based entities that could gather wood and resources in preparation for building the elven race someday.
She didn't want to cut down other trees. She herself was a tree. Cutting trees felt… wrong.
"Better to create something that can gather resources without damaging the ecosystem."
The song began to echo. Soft melodies flowed from her body, blending with the wind and light. Elf orbs began to appear, glowing like tiny stars, dancing in the air.
Silmalómë watched the glowing orbs born from her own song. They floated gently in the air, shimmering like newborn stars. But she felt… confused.
"Hmm… how do I move them? There's no way I can control them like in a PC game with a screen. I'm in the real world now… as a tree."
She tried channeling her energy toward them. But her tree body was too massive, and her branches couldn't reach the glowing orbs.
"Ah~~ this is so frustrating. How am I supposed to touch them?"
Silmalómë thought hard. She was no longer human. She had to think like a tree. If branches were hands, then roots were feet. She tried moving her roots in her mind… and it worked.
Carefully, she channeled life energy toward the glowing orbs. They began to tremble, as if responding with joy. Silmalómë tried giving them a simple command: gather wood.
And they moved.
"Holy shit… I finally did it."
The glowing orbs floated toward the nearby forest, gently gathering wood without causing harm. They touched tree trunks, summoned dead wood fragments, and brought them back to Silmalómë's roots.
Days passed. She didn't know what else she could do.
"Being a tree is so damn boring. Can't do anything. I might as well start memorizing my surroundings."
Using herself as the center, she began mapping the area around her. Across the lake stretched a dense forest—tall, glowing trees like the ones she'd seen in Avatar back in her previous life.
"Heh… I see woofsprites. There's floating weeds like jellyfish. This really is like planet Pandora."
She started thinking: isn't this the seed of the Tree of Life? She tried channeling life energy through her roots across the surrounding land. Who knows—maybe one day she could communicate with the flora and fauna of Valinor and Middle-earth.
Years passed. Silmalómë explored the world as a tree, absorbing knowledge, touching the earth, and waiting for the awakening of the elf race still asleep in Cuiviénen Lake—a race created by Eru Ilúvatar, and now her responsibility.
But in a distant place, in the dark corner of the universe, Sargeras began to doubt the will of the Pantheon. He witnessed a darkness that could not be contained, and in despair, he began to betray his brethren.
One day, he would lead the Burning Legion, and the world that now lay peaceful would be scorched by endless war.