World of Warcraft – Descent into Madness
Book 2
By ViMiLu
Prologue:
The Violet Citadel
Dalaran
"We have all lost - !"
The Archmage Rhonin quickly fired the channeled spell from his open palm. An explosion of arcane energy erupted into the center of the room. The magnificent waves of conjured brilliance erupt into a dome driving the brutish warriors away from one another.
"- A great deal in this conflict," the concerned mage finished.
His breaths were exasperated but the words flowing through his lungs conveyed the utter seriousness of the situation. This brief squabble pales into comparison to the dire news they had all just heard. Brann Bronzebeard was not one to embellish the facts. This was not a situation anyone could afford to take lightly.
The King of Stormind Varian Wrynn and his current adversary, the Overlord of the Warsong Offensive Garrosh Hellscream continued to stare down one another in fevered antagonism. The leader of the Kiron Tor hoped his next words will assist in calming their emotions.
"But we stand to lose everything," Rhonin pleaded. "If we don't stop fighting and work together!"
Tensions continued to rise between the two factions. The incident that had just transpired was but one of many recent skirmishes reported throughout Northrend. Despite the threat of a great evil that stands to destroy everything, neither the Horde nor the Alliance could find the right motivation to set aside their difference and stand united instead of divided.
"A true warchief would never partner with cowards," spat Garrosh.
The orc's growing disdain for his leader was well known within their ranks. Even the standing members of the alliance could feel their discord just by the brief passing look of contempt given to Thrall by his subordinate.
"At the Wrathgate the Horde's partnership killed more of our men than the Scourge."
Varian's words oozed with scorn. He did not want anyone to forget the harm that has befallen his soldiers. Time and time again history has proven that no matter how dire the circumstances, you couldn't continue to trust someone to watch your back when they keep trying to put a knife through it.
"I'm done with your Horde," the King scoffed.
The loyal soldiers off the Alliance surrounded their powerful leader. A glowing wave of blue energy begins to form within the hands of the mage. It was time to take their leave of this place.
"May this death god take you all."
A tornado of arcane power whipped forth and enveloped Varian and his loyal subordinates. They disappeared in the blink of an eye and teleported far away from this grim place. The foul taste of this meeting would not be soon forgotten.
"You disappoint me Garrosh…"
The Overlord scoffed at the brief remark Thrall made. Though it appeared to be one to convey his disapproval for the actions of his subordinate, the fact remains that the Warchief did nothing to stop Garrosh from acting on his own. It would be hard for people to take him seriously as a leader if he could not quell the growing sense of rebellion from within the mag'har orc. If Thrall could not control one of his own, how could anyone trust him or his people on the battlefield.
Though it stung to hear those words come from his supposed enemy, King Varian had an excellent reason for his reservations. As the members of the Horde took their leave from the Violet Citadel, Thrall continued to reflect upon those statements and whether or not he held the strength within him to prove the Alliance wrong.
Jaina Proudmoore's heart continued to tremble. This entire mess was her fault. She had only wanted to present a united front against this new and terrifying foe and only seemed to drive both parties even further apart. The legendary battle atop the foothills of Mount Hyjal were all races and factions came together to stop the madness of the Burning Legion and their terrifying leader Archimonde appeared to be a faint memory. The young magus desperately wished for both sides to come to their senses as they did many years ago but it appears that not everyone can be as easily swayed with mere words.
The air of violence began to settle within the surrounding walls. Brann continued to sulk with his back pressed against the wall. The brief squabble between the two factions paled in comparison to the terror felt from that Titan fortress. If they wouldn't listen to reason, than there was no hope left for this world.
"The Old God is laughing, toying with us…"
Rhonin shared the defeated sentiments of the leader of the Explorer's Guild. The three of them stood together near the window. A radiant starry skyline peered back at them. The foreboding threat of this ancient evil may require the strength of all of Azeroth's heroes and champions. Losing the support of their respective faction's leaders would only weaken their plight.
"Who will be our hope?" Jaina sighed.
Some of the most brilliant minds in the world gathered in this place and yet no one could find the answer to their plight. They desperately tried to bring everyone together in the hopes that this growing threat would unite everyone as the pilgrimage to Northrend brought the Alliance and the Horde to take the fight directly to the Lich King. However, it appears that even the noblest of intentions can still be corrupted by pride and prejudice.
"Who will stand and face Yogg-Saron?" the Archmage replied under his sullen breath.
The question came out more rhetorical than anything else as if asking the universe beyond the hallowed walls of the Kirin Tor's citadel for guidance.
A small thump echoed into the quiet room. All three turned their attention to the source of the disturbance. A lone book had fallen off the shelf with a particularly nervous looking mage staring back at them in a vain attempt to stealthily retrieve it.
"Cayden?"
Rhonin raised an eyebrow as he glared down upon his young apprentice.
"My apologies Master Rhonin," the fiery mage stated. If his head could sink any lower, it would be sitting just above his knees. "I did not mean to eavesdrop on your conversation."
His words were glowing with sincerity but it didn't negate the fact that he had just been privy to a highly confidential discussion. If word of this was leaked it could cause the citizens to panic. There was already enough stress going around with fighting their current war. Dealing with this problem could lead to certain catastrophe if they did not present it properly.
"How much of that did you hear?"
Cayden could not even look his master in the eyes.
"When Brann began discussing his initial assault on the gates of Ulduar."
The Archmage's brow furrowed.
"And you listened to everything since?"
The young mage's head fell even lower.
"Yes sir."
"Cayden…"
"Don't be too rough on him," pleaded Jaina. "Wouldn't we have all done the same if we were in his shoes at that age?"
Rhonin's glaring disappointment would have been enough to crack anyone's spirit. However, Cayden Melton wasn't going to be dissuaded by a simple scolding. He had learned what true courage looks like with his own eyes on the field of battle. If the threat of this old god was enough to bring even the most powerful magus in Azeroth to his knees in dread, than there was no way his chosen apprentice would stand aside in the world's time of need.
"I trust the gravity of what we face has already been conveyed and implored?"
Cayden slowly nodded.
"Yes sir," he replied. "I am no stranger to the historical references and texts regarding the Old Gods. I may have only been a student during the war in Ahn'Qiraj but it didn't quell my interest in the subject matter."
"I remember that time indeed," Rhonin stated. "We had many students leave their studies prematurely in order to assist the war effort against the Silithid and their evil master."
His expression turned from morose to one of slight pride.
"You were one of the few that stayed behind and studied the battles from the pages of parchment rather than the field. Despite your trademark morbid curiosity, you still showed sound judgment above all else."
"Thank you Master," Cayden smiled painfully.
Acknowledging the compliment was one thing but the young mage knew he was still treading on thin ice. Rhonin shifted his gaze back towards the night's sky and buried himself deep in thought. Even if his apprentice was not ready to join the council, perhaps he could still share a little wisdom and help ease the tension that filled this space.
"Do you have any ideas what our next course of action should be?"
The young mage shook his head.
"No," he began with a smile quickly forming on his lips. "But I believe I know someone who'd be willing to help."