It all started with a dream. And not just any dream niether, it was the first memory that Adarin Dreamwalker could recall, as vague as it may be. A memory over ten thousand years old…

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It was high noon; the time when the night elves were at their weakest for the sun was at its peak. Many heroes had joined the fight against The Burning Legion in an attempt to retake Zin-Azshari. Most of these heroes were not known by this title yet, but each would one day affect the entirety of the world, many times over. A time when Illidan Stormrage would battle alongside the time-lost Rhonin, facing demons from another realm; A night elf fighting alongside an alien ally from the future, foreshadowing the alliance that would one day take place when the threat of The Burning Legion would return a second time.

All this seemed highly unlikely at the moment. However the circumstance came to be did not matter. What did matter was the legion of demons charging towards the prepared night elven forces.

The army readied itself for the assault as an order from the commanding officer, Lord Kur'talos Ravencrest, shouted to the archers, telling them to knock their bows and fire on command. Among these archers was a young boy, who was obviously not quite ready for the chaos that was about to unfold before him. His hair was green, cut relatively short, and styled back as it spiked at the back of his head.

He wore a simple leather outfit that was far too large for his physique. The leggings were hugged tight to his body, with a band of studded-leather around the hips. His vest, however, barely fit his small shoulders. Two straps, attached to the leggings, were wrapped around his shoulders, crisscrossing over his chest and back. Aside from the bow, he had a quiver on his right hip filled with a dozen or so arrows. On the other side, a sheath concealing a long sword weighed him down.

A night elf to his right, who was donned in the same outfit, appeared to fill it much more efficiently. He called the boy by name.

"Adarin, remember, concentrate on your target," instructed the obviously much more battle oriented elf.

"Yes, Master Clintar," replied Adarin. With what little time they had to prepare themselves for the battle, Clintar had taken Adarin under his wing, teaching him what he could about the art of war. Although he only knew him for less than a handful of days, Adarin respected his teacher. He rescued him from the clutches of a Felhound, seemingly out of nowhere, as it was draining every bit of his life out of him. Clintar had been the first person that Adarin could remember that he had a family-like relationship with. After being saved, Ravencrest had suggested that Adarin accompany them on their mission to retake their ancient city.

Clintar had been the first person, as far as Adarin could remember, that he had a family-like relationship with. Clintar had spent much time training Adarin with what he could. The young night elf even looked up to Clintar as somewhat of a father figure. Adarin could not recall if he had parents or not. If he did, they likely died before he was old enough to retain any memory of them. Adarin had also met Clintar's best friend, Enron, who acted more like a brother than a friend to Adarins father figure. Clintar and Enron always fought back-to-back, defending each other when necessary. Both were formidable warriors in their own right.

Clintar knew that Ravencrest had been desperate for troops, but considering the fact that a mere boy, barely able to hold the bow that he now aimed, stood awaiting the coming of beasts he couldn't have dreamed about, the situation had obviously been much more dire than he or his brother believed.

And then it happened, Ravencrest's hand dropped and a volley of arrows surged toward the hulking monstrosities. As soon as he saw both Clintar and Enron fire expertly, he followed suit, though his reaction to the hand signal was a bit delayed. A flurry of bolts rushed toward the demon's front line, catching them off guard. It upset Adarin that he would never know if that arrow actually hit anyone. It was rather likely, though, as hundreds of beasts toppled over, face-first into the dirt. If the actual impact of the arrow had killed any of the beasts was uncertain, but it did not matter. They would likely be crushed under the weight of an entire army marching on top of them.

With little time to rejoice, Ravencrest threw his hand in the air again, signaling to prepare for another volley. Adarin knocked another arrow into position and when the hand fell he released the string. It had seemed, however, that the creatures were learning. The majority of them threw their shields up. That strategy would likely not work again.

"All support units, fall to the back! All melee units, advance to the front line!" Ravencrest ordered. They had discussed their strategy, over and over again, before the battle had begun, so Adarin knew exactly where he was supposed to be and what he was supposed to do. He was part of the support team, which mainly consisted of archers, but the wizard Rhonin and the magically adept Illidan stood with them.

"Now is the time for battle… CHARGE!" screamed Ravencrest, as he motivated the troops with his bloodcurdling battle cry.

Rhonin threw his arms to the sky, as he shouted in some strange language he had never heard before, and Adarin could realize what had happened, as the ground beneath their adversaries began to ripple, sending dirt into the once clear sky. The only thing that could be heard was the clashing of metal weapons with armor and demonic howls.

Adarin raised his bow. Unlike before, his aim had to be precise. He could not afford to miss and hit one of his allies. He steadied his aim and released his grip. The arrow had been intended for the Felhounds in the frontline and the arrow had hit its target, albeit not where he intended it. He had aimed for the head but the projectile had instead hit the lupine-like creature's tentacle, taking it right off. The arrow continued on, past its intended target, finally ending its path in the throat of one of The Legions warriors. He had heard them called Felguards before, and had gathered that they were the backbone of the army.

The arrow had knocked the demon on its knees, as he gasped for air. One of the night elven soldiers leapt into the air, bringing his spear right into the chest of the foul abomination. Adarin took a moment to gather all the excitement in. Any doubt he had before of whether his first shot had hit had been completely washed away. It seemed that he had a knack for aim. He glanced over at Illidan, who seemed concentrated on a spell.

He knocked another arrow into his bow, and as he surveyed the area for another target, noticed several large black tentacles grow from the ground and wrap themselves around several of the Felguards necks. A few of the tentacles had wrapped themselves around the body of the Felhounds, as well, and as their grip tightened they seared the monstrosities in two.

Adarin fired his bow towards the Felhounds at the front again. With dead precision, the arrow had positioned itself conveniently into the beast's head, sending it crashing to the ground. Adarin reached for his quiver, pulling back another arrow. He fired his arrow, along with scores of other archers simultaneously, high up into the sky, aimed towards the back of the demonic army.

They only made it halfway, however, before some magical force had sent them plummeting back towards the night elves infantry. Adarin looked around for a hint of what to do. A night elf stood to his left, frozen in fear. The boy reached over and shook him, attempting to snap him out of the trance but it was too late. One of the arrows that had come flying back had lodged itself in his forehead. He fell to the ground immediately. Searching the battlefield, Adarin had noticed that the same thing had happened to several other archers around him.

The devastation was incredible. Enron ran over to his dead comrade with sorrow in his eyes. He let out a bloodcurdling scream as he dropped his bow and grabbed his long sword.

Adarin acted similar but before he could unsheathe it, he was struck in the shoulder by the same arrow he had fired moments before. Adarin fell like a ton of bricks.

Time, itself, seemed to speed up, fast-forwarding through several days. Adarin viewed as the events of the next two days flashed before his eyes in a matter of moments. He watched the night elven forces advance on Zin-Azshari, albeit unsuccessfully. Their loss was great and they eventually had to fall back. He watched as Enron retreated, carrying Adarin's lifeless body all the way to Mount Hyjal. With the aid of Rhonin, Malfurion and Illidan Stormrage, as well as the Moonguard, the army managed to fend off the demons long enough to allow the wounded to retreat to the highest point in all of the known world. Eventually, time slowed down again as Enron and an injured Adarin reached their destination – Mount Hyjal.

Two night elven priests rushed to tend to Adarin's wound, as Enron quickly yet carefully placed him on the ground. It had been more than two days since they had retreated from the battlefield. From their convenient vantage point high up in the mountains, Enron stared off into the distance, looking at the destruction being caused so far away. He could see that the two massive armies still clashed, although it had appeared that the night elves had bolstered their numbers somehow. Enron and Adarin would later discover that the night elves had struck an alliance with several of ancient Kalimdor's denizens. The bear-like furbolgs had come to defend the land alongside the night elves, who were also joined by the tauren, nomadic bull-men. Even the ancestors of the dwarves, the earthen, came to aid in the war effort. Enron could see, however, that the defenders of Kalimdor were slowly, but surely, losing.

It was then that Enron heard what sounded like a trumpet being blown, far off in the distance. As he focused in on its origin, he bore witness to the mighty deity, known as Cenarius, entering the fray of battle. He appeared much like a night elf from the waist up and like a stag from the waist down.

Cenarius raised his tree trunk-like arm into the sky and clenched his fist as gargantuan sentient trees, known as ancients, emerged from the forests and charged for the demonic forces. They hurled boulders at the demons in the sky, and swatted at the demons on the land.

Even smaller living trees, known as treants, added to the chaos that unfolded before Enron's very eyes. The treants used their adept natural abilities to draw roots from the ground. The roots raced for the flying demons, which mostly consisted of Nathrezim and Eredar, grabbed them and pulled them quickly to the ground. Hundreds of demons crashed into the soil and were held in place as the roots expanded over their entire bodies, so that they could be dealt with more appropriately by the blades of the mortal races.

Creatures, that looked nearly identical to Cenarius himself emerged from the woodlands as well, though the males of the group appeared much powerful than the females. The Keepers of the Grove and Dryads, respectively, used their various nature spells on the evil creatures that were defiling their land. Some even braved their way up to the front lines, as Enron watched one of the Dryads who wielded a spear charge for a Felhound. Unsuccessfully, she attempted to drive the spear through the abomination of nature but missed. Without hesitation, the beast latched its tentacle onto the Dryad and sucked the magic dry from within her.

Before Adarin could open his eyes, he heard a loud 'caw' sound not very far away. Pointing his attention to the skies, he witnessed an enormous white raven flying towards the battlefield some thirty feet above him. Enron, as well, noticed the noise as he turned to look at the gigantic bird.

"Aviana…" was the only word that Adarin could muster.

"Ironic. How something so beautiful charges towards something quite the opposite," added Enron as he followed the demigod with his eyes, then looked down at the battle that was still taking place.

Adarin sat up, and even atop the highest peak of ancient Kalimdor everyone on Mount Hyjal could feel the ground shake…

As he rose to his feet, there was no way he could have missed the sight of the gargantuan boar that was charging towards the battlefield. It was the largest thing that Adarin had ever seen, standing at roughly two hundred feet. The beast had large spines that grew from its back, although Adarin was not sure if they were actually spines or if they were just extremely thick fur clumped together. At the top of its four legs, however, it had horns that emerged from its 'shoulders' if one could call them that. Similarly, it had six tusks that all came from within the creatures wide maw as well as several runes, that gave off a blue light that, covering most of its body. Adarin now knew this creature to be Agamaggan, the ancestor of the quilboar, though he had no idea what was happening during his initial experience of this event.

Elsewhere they could see two mighty bears joining the battle, Ursoc and Ursol. The twin bears, which the Druids of the Claw have revered for centuries, also came to the aid of the mortal races.

They looked not much different than two normal bears would appear, though they were enormous compared to their mortal cousins. The only key difference, other than size, would most notably be the blue runes that covered both of the demigod's entirely. They each had unique patterns within the runes, probably to tell the difference between the two, though neither Adarin nor Enron knew which was which.

As the twin bears charged towards the battlefield, scores of winged demons dove from the sky towards the pair. One of the demons, a member of the Doomguard, was batted away by the massive paw of one of the bears and three other's fell from the sky before ever even reaching their intended target as the other bear roared in defiance, sending an invisible energy towards the winged demons.

Now they could tell who was who. Ursoc the Mighty was known for his uncanny strength and used tooth and claw to beat his enemies into submission whereas Ursol the Wise resorted to spells and cunning to defeat his foe.

As Aviana dashed through the skies, several Doomguard flew towards her with spears drawn. A loud 'kaugh' could be heard all over the battlefield as her lifeless body fell towards the ground. The holy blood that splattered from her body, however, was a final act of rebellion to the demons encroaching upon their world. It covered hundreds of the demonic entities, burning through their flesh more like acid than a blood.

Agamaggan was nowhere to be seen.

Ursoc and Ursol, however, were not fairing so well. Hundreds of Doomguard continued to assault them from the skies relentlessly, as dozens of Felhounds sucked the life out of them from the ground. As powerful as the Ancients were, they could only deal with so much. Within minutes, the twin bears withered and died. All that was left of them coursed through the veins of the Felhounds that had drained life out of them entirely.

Cenarius had witnessed the death of Aviana as well as the twin bears. Adarin and Enron watch helplessly from their vantage point as the demigod charged furiously into battle to avenge the death of his comrades. He crushed hundreds of Felguards and Felhounds with his antlers as he charged through their ranks in a frenzy, more akin to an animal than to a deity of his demeanor.

Countless demons had fallen by his hand that day, though it would prove not enough. As the demonic army circled in around the lone demigod, the mortal races tried to push their forces towards Cenarius to aid him in any way that they possibly could. Yet eventually, he was subdued by one of the Felguard. A spear was placed to his neck as the demon grinned in anticipation of the kill. He thrust the weapon towards his target.

The mortal races would not be able to make it in time to save his life.

However, a blinding flash of light erupted from the horizon and charged for the battlefield, blinding and then destroying hundreds upon hundreds of demons in its wake. The light also served to draw the attention of the would-be assassin of Cenarius. The Felguard dropped its spear as it, too, was blinded by the same white light that had destroyed so many other demons on its path. The entity rammed into the Felguard sending him flying to his death. As the light dimmed, the shape of a large stag stood in its place.

Malorne the Waywatcher, the father of Cenarius, had come his son's rescue.

He protected him for several minutes until the mortal races could make their way to Cenarius's limp body. Malorne looked to the night elves that had arrived at his unconscious son.

"Please, take him to safety. I beg of you…" the great White Stag beckoned, though no voice could be heard outside of the night elf leader's head.

He nodded to the demigod and said aloud, "We will give our lives attempting to do so!"

Malorne's fury might have turned the tides of battle against the Burning Legion, had the demon lord Archimonde not appeared. Black lightning struck the ground around Malorne, baking it, as green fire raised from the ground engulfing the great White Stag entirely, burning at his fur coat. The earth around Malorne formed giant hands that that grabbed at his limbs, pinning his four legs to the ground.

Archimonde swelled in size, matching that of Malorne's height. Malorne freed himself from his magical trap, and charged towards Archimonde with his antlers. He smashed into the demon lord causing tremors and lightning as demonic forces and the mortal races of Azeroth nearby shook and fell to the ground in astonishment. Malorne and Archimonde battled for some time, until finally, Archimonde managed to seize Malorne and with great force snapped his neck. Cenarius's brave father, limp and lifeless, was simply tossed aside by the demon lord Archimonde.

Nearby, Malfurion Stormrage witnessed the death of his mentor's father. Knowing that his teacher lie unconscious and that Archimonde had just slayed Malorne, he quickly cast a spell that engulfed most of Archimonde with vines. The demon lord, analytical as always, decided to retreat as he vanished in a green flare of flames that consumed the vines.

Immediately after the Arch-demons escape, time began to speed up yet again. Adarin's memories led him and Enron back towards the battlefield where he and Enron had parted ways. Adarin seemed drawn away from the battlefield as voices in his head led him to a cave high up in the mountains.

Blackness enveloped his dreams as he entered the cave. Only a large triangular shaped face, covered in black scales, was able to penetrate this darkness as it stared directly at him, almost as if the beast were looking through him.

The top of the creature's head was covered in metallic plating that trailed down his spine, as it seemed to hold him together. The beast reached one of his clawed hands towards Adarin, which was holding some strange golden disk.

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The last thing Adarin could remember was an unbearable pain surging throughout his entire body as he shot up from his bed, sweating and screaming. He sat himself on the edge of his bed, trying to collect his thoughts. He had been having this dream a lot lately and was not really sure of what it all meant.

His thoughts were interrupted by a rapping at the door of his one-roomed abode. He opened it, finding no one there at first glance, though a 'caw' drew his attention to the ground. A jet-black raven was suddenly enveloped in smoke, eventually forming a night elf. Adarin knew the figure that stood before him, and he was not entirely excited about his presence.

"Fandral… To what do I owe this honor?" Adarin asked, disguising his sarcasm.

"I require your attendance in Nighthaven Hall within the hour."

"May I inquire as to why?"

"No, you may not!" the Arch Druid barked. "You will know soon enough." Fandral began to walk away, but he turned his head around suddenly. "I am not asking for your attendance, Adarin. I am telling for you be there…" With that said, Fandral Staghelm was no more. The raven that stood in his place took to the skies, leaving Adarin with even more questions than when he had first woken up.