Rhodes' words were like ice-cold needles, piercing into Maiev's heart once more. They forced her to relive that soul-crushing agony and despair, causing her body to tremble uncontrollably.
As a Night Elf who had lived for ten thousand years, she possessed a formidable pride, but that pride had withered into nothingness the moment she watched her sisters die one by one.
"I have nothing left to say. My sisters are safe; that is enough. How do you intend to dispose of me?" Maiev took a deep breath, steadying her emotions as she looked at Rhodes. She deduced he didn't plan to kill her—otherwise, there would be no need for this conversation. This was the most humiliating defeat she had suffered in her long life.
"I possess the power to easily destroy you all, but I also possess the authority to grant a second life," Rhodes said, his voice turning solemn and majestic. "I let them experience death and gave them rebirth so that they—and especially you—would understand the folly and the price of defying my will, the demigods, and your true leaders!"
He looked down at the kneeling Maiev. "Your subordinates have recognized reality and returned to Kalimdor to report to Tyrande. But you, Maiev Shadowsong, have committed the greatest error. Your stubbornness nearly dragged the entire Warden force into an eternal abyss. Your punishment is far from over."
Maiev snapped her head up, anger rekindling in her eyes, though it was now laced with a trace of imperceptible fear. "What do you want?"
"Nothing much," Rhodes said casually. "I'm simply inviting you to be my 'guest' for a while. I will personally 'educate' you on how to judge a situation and see the bigger picture. When I feel you truly recognize your mistakes and stop snapping at everyone like a crazy woman, I will release you."
"Never! I will never submit! The Night Elves won't allow you to imprison me! Tyrande and Malfurion won't agree to this," Maiev spat through gritted teeth.
Rhodes let out a derisive snort. "You think they'll care? I've already sent word back with Naisha. Malfurion and Tyrande will be thanking me for dealing with a headstrong woman who causes trouble and ignores orders."
The words stung Maiev deeply. As much as she wanted to deny it, a dark corner of her mind whispered that Tyrande—that wench—might actually be delighted. They had loathed each other since the War of the Ancients. If given the chance, they would have neutralized each other long ago.
Rhodes cut off her thoughts. "You have no choice. Either follow me and learn the new rules, or I can let you experience that total despair a few more times until you learn to listen. Believe me, I have plenty of time and many methods.
I could hang you up, make small cuts all over your body, and smear them with honey for the local insects to enjoy. When you're chewed beyond recognition, I'll just resurrect you and start over. I have a list of 'Ten Great Tortures' from my homeland I'd love to experiment with. Since you're a jailer, I'm sure we'll have plenty of common ground."
Think you're tough? Rhodes thought. The punishments you know are nothing compared to what my ancestors came up with. If an ancient imperial interrogator were here, even Illidan would have confessed by now.
Rhodes' cold, cruel descriptions shattered Maiev's last bit of hope. She realized that this human's power and methods were far beyond her ability to resist. Rebellion would only bring more agonizing humiliation. She bit her lip so hard it bled, and finally, the spine that had stood straight for ten millennia bowed under the invisible pressure. She lowered her head, her body trembling with silent shame.
"I understand," Maiev whispered. "I will listen to you. But you must promise to release me when the time comes."
Jaina watched from the side with a complex expression. Rhodes' methods were extreme, but they were terrifyingly effective. In a matter of minutes, he had dismantled the will of the most stubborn Warden in history.
"Excellent. We have a consensus," Rhodes nodded. "Don't worry, I won't ask for much. Just use your specialties—scouting, combat, that sort of thing. I'll have plenty of use for you soon." He signaled the Archangel, who released its grip but remained close to Maiev's side.
Once the business in the Eastern Kingdoms was finished and they returned to Kalimdor, Rhodes would release her. Having her around meant he'd always need an Archangel on guard duty just so he could sleep soundly.
"Now that the trouble is settled... Maiev, I have a question for you."
"Ask, Lord Archdruid. I will tell you what I know."
"When you landed on this island, did you see an Orc warlock? An old one who came here with Gul'dan years ago?" Rhodes asked.
This old Orc was a hidden figure from the history of the Tomb. From him, one could learn exactly what happened when Gul'dan died here.
"I know of him," Maiev said. "When I first landed, he met with me. He asked for help dealing with some Orcish undead and told me of Gul'dan's death twenty years ago."
"Good. He might be useful to me," Rhodes said, rubbing his chin.
Rhodes knew some high-level Fel spells he'd picked up from Legion elites, but he lacked the fundamental utility skills of a Warlock. He didn't want to approach the more infamous Warlocks of Azeroth; his current public image was one of Light, Life, and Arcane. He wanted to keep his ability to use Shadow and Fel under wraps. Learning from a hermit Orc was the perfect solution—skills like Soul Well, Demonic Gateways, and Enslave Demon.
"I can take you to him. He is on the eastern side of the Broken Shore," Maiev noted.
The group soon found a white-bearded old Orc carrying firewood near a pot of boiling crabs and fish.
"A Night Elf and a Human... what do you want with me?" The Orc became visibly wary when he saw Rhodes. The blood feud between Orcs and Humans was deep, and as a former member of the Shadow Council, he had plenty of skeletons in his closet.
"No ill intent, Warlock. You've lived in seclusion here for over a decade. I've come to speak with you in private," Rhodes said.
"Fine. If you want to talk, follow me. My name is Drak'thul," the old Orc said, his eyes darting around. He realized he wasn't in a position to negotiate; the magic radiating from this human was stronger than Gul'dan's ever was.
Rhodes followed Drak'thul into a simple canvas tent, where the Orc cast a soundproofing barrier. Rhodes noted that the old man was surprisingly powerful—likely on par with Jaina. He had to be, to survive the Nightborne, the Withered, the Vrykul, and Helya's minions for twenty years.
"Speak, Human. What do you want?" Drak'thul asked.
"I want to learn some foundational Warlock spells from you," Rhodes said plainly.
"What?" Drak'thul stared, bewildered. "A human comes to a member of the Shadow Council to learn Warlock arts? Are you mad? You are clearly a powerful mage—why do you need my spells?"