Author's Notes: Well, here it is. I sincerely hope that this installment fulfills everyone's expectations, as in this chapter, the plot of the story begins developing in earnest. There might be a small bit of an info-dump near the end, but I hope you can overlook that in favor of the greater picture.

On another note, I am very happy with the amount of feedback you guys are giving me. It keeps me writing more, and helps me improve upon some less well-thought aspects of the story. I hope you all stick with it till the end, because I certainly plan to bring it there. Now, onto individual review responses –

-eiko: Thanks, I'm glad you liked it.

-Escalus: Well, you should be getting your earlier wish fulfilled now that the plot is finally moving forth at an increased pace. Enjoy.

-Brendan: About Valeera and her class / abilities, see the small section below. As for the Kirin Tor, though they were ambushed, they are no pushovers. We'll see if they need help and if they do, where they'll get it from. And I see Sylvanas as having more or less manipulated Thrall and the Horde into helping her reclaim Undercity. But we'll get more on Sylvanas' character later. And do you mean Saurfang the Younger or the Elder?

-Seproth: I thank you for your kind words, and I definitely agree that the War of the Ancients all. About Valeera, see below. About Illidan… well, since I decided to keep him alive, it is only natural that he'll get a huge amount of spotlight in this story. Just wait and see. Lore characters – yes. I'm only using Lore characters, and strictly sticking to their personalities as far as I possibly can. Even if I do have, at some point, to personally introduce Random Human Scout #389; why, there are so many NPCs already in the game I'd just have to pick one. Also, I think it should be obvious by now – the Infinite Dragonflight that attacks Northrend is from the future. Just like how they jumped at Arthas in Stratholme, Thrall in Durnholde and Medivh in the opening of the Dark Portal, they're going to try and influence this event as well – though to what direction, and what the original course would be, and whether it will be ultimately changed, remains to be seen (though a Future Thrall charging in and spreading RAGE amongst the Infinites sounds a fun idea). And yeah, the Blues are out of the picture since their leader's demise… for now, at least. The Vrykul are around, just not explicitly mentioned yet, except for the Val'kyr that attacked Tyrande. They'll come into play, don't worry. As for Ulduar… I won't say anything much. But we're all in a kind of Ulduar fever these days. Wouldn't be easy to leave it out, y'know? As for the higher power… if you haven't gotten a bit of the idea already, this chapter gives a lot of relevant insight – though don't think all is revealed or set in stone just yet.

-BoromirDefender: The story of Jaina and Arthas is one of my favorites from the original Warcraft 3, and always felt the need to exploit it. Concerning Maiev, you're going to enjoy this chapter. And I'm glad you liked things so far, prepare for even larger doses of epicness.

-Shadow of What Once Was: As with many other reviewers, this chapter should satisfy you. And any non-major NPC that is involved with a specific faction, like the lieutenants / "boss adds" in every major city, should generally be assumed to be with their respective forces, unless / until mentioned otherwise. That said, I'm glad you are enjoying this, and I hope you stick around.

Now, about Valeera. Yes, she is a Rogue. However, that doesn't automatically bar her from arcane power – on the contrary, she has been shown to wield magic with decent aptitude. Seeing as it was the most practical weapon against the Trolls, which fought from range, whereas any Rogue skills would require her to get mixed up in their midst, she simply used magic instead. I may have 'overpowered' her magic skills a little. Don't worry, I'll put her on the correct path.

Without further ado, though –

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Chapter VII: Abyssal Flames

"The Dreadlords must go first, Lor'Themar!" Sylvanas yelled at her ally and unexpected rescuer, as the fight broke out again, fiercer than before. "If they die, the rest will break sooner or later!"

"It will be as you say, my Lady." Lor'themar replied formally, calm and collected even as the deathmatch raged around them. They had managed to get close enough to hear each other, but dared not come closer, for between them the three conjured Infernals were roaming, spreading burning death to any of her Forsaken or Blood Elves, be they Lor'themar's or Kael's, that stood in their way.

Sylvanas flinched at Lor'themar's words. Spoken so neutrally, so formally… an ally he might see her as, but never as one of his own. Caution, mistrust, was all Sylvanas heard in his words. She was one of the Undead now.

Which was just as well. As long as he helped her out, she had no complaints. "Hold them here!" She said, not caring if it sounded like an order despite hers and Lor'themar's supposedly equal standing, and turned around, heading uphill.

"Idiots! Kill her!" Kael screamed, pointing at her – a stream of green-colored fel fire rushed at her, missing her by a fair margin, but his pet Dreadlord wasted no time in coming after her.

"Now!" Sylvanas ordered. The heat from the arcane and demonic flames was overpowered by a sharp sensation of cold, and from overhead, the huge mass of an undead dragon descended. Its raven-colored scales glowed fiercely as it opened its jaws, and a huge sphere of black flame flew towards the Dreadlord. The magnificent explosion tore everything apart nearby, even some of her own minions – Sylvanas hardly felt any pity, definitely nothing compared to the joy of seeing her latest achievement at work. The Scourge began by turning the fallen Blue Dragons of Northrend to Frost Wyrms. Sylvanas didn't have the entire Dragonblight at her disposal, but the Burning Steppes were not out of her reach. A raid, led by her most trusted servants, in the Black Dragonflight stronghold of Blackrock Spire, had given birth to these new, wonderful creations. Plague Wyrms, the spearhead of Sylvanas' campaign, ready to be used against the Scourge. They would work here.

Her eyes only barely caught the shade of the Dreadlord, having survived her pet's attack, but still disoriented and out of commission for a while. That would be more than enough. Sylvanas found a new bow amidst the abundant remains of summoned skeletal archers that had been returned to their original state of a pile of bones. Aiming just above her head, where her keen eyes could discern through the arcane mist the shape of one of the Dragonhawks that were maintaining it, she let loose. A cry of pain let her know she had not missed. She leapt out of the way of the collapsing Dragonhawk – immediately, the mist that was held by its magical aura was lifted, and the majestic Meat Wagon that was armed with the New Plague emerged from within.

"Fire!!" Sylvanas commanded, and the mass of plagued essence compressed in the shape of an explosive grenade was hurled across the sky towards the Dreadlord that had attempted to intercept her. The demon's cry of rage was not enough to stop it from striking spot-on target, and though he survived the impact which he had narrowly managed to avoid, the effects of the New Plague on the Nathrezim soon became apparent. His scorched body was covered in deathly fumes, and he spat blood as the disease began tearing him apart from within. Soon, nothing but a pile of melting, deformed flesh was left.

Triumph once more for the Dark Lady.

"SYLVANAS!!" Kael's scream tore her away from joyous thoughts, and she saw her former prince charge through his ranks, unleashing a constant stream of fire that purged the undead that tried to stop him. Coming for her.

"Reload it, you idiots!" Sylvanas screamed at the apothecaries that were supposed to be in charge of the wagon. Two had fallen from the spears of a pair of Dragonhawk Riders that had rushed to cover the gap. One aimed for her with its javelin, while the other began using his mount's magical shroud.

Sylvanas stretched her hand, and just before the polearm left its wielder's hand, another, much more firm grip was placed on its controller's mind. Subjugating her enemy's brain, the queen of the Forsaken twisted his aim towards his comrade. She could not tell whose expression showed more fear and distress – the hapless elf's who was about to be impaled by his former companion, or the one who was about to launch the killing blow against his will, knowing that his time would soon follow. Nevertheless, the sky was clear again, and her servants had finally finished loading a new pack of plagued soil on the catapult, and moved it into position, this time aiming straight for Kael himself.

"Fire." Sylvanas pronounced the capital punishment. Death arced over the battlefield, falling down atop Kael's position…

The fires that blazed around the battle did not lose in intensity, but they seemed to pale and diminish. The dry breeze was replaced by scorching heat. The sky itself caught fire, and Sylvanas' eyes widened, not in shock, not in anger, but in pure, raw fear, as she faced something beyond her wildest imagination.

Entropic fire surrounded Kael'thas now – no, it consumed him – a radiant blaze in a bird-like shape. His eyes were now burning orbs, and the upper portion of his robe had been reduced to dust before that sun-like heat. Two great wings of white-hot flame spread on either side of him, completing the appearance of one of those legendary immortal firebirds. But while those were said to be benevolent spirits, guardians of nature as agents of the Red Dragonflight, this was a twisted visage of one, corrupted by the influence of demons. The plagued bomb approached its intended target, but long before it could even get close, it was vaporized to nothing but thin air, even the gaseous fumes wiped out in that raging inferno.

"This is the end, Sylvanas." She heard Kael speak, and all the fire around him, all the fires in the world, surged overhead, culminating into a thick pillar. A hundred meters above the battlefield, the fire exploded into the burning shape of a rapidly descending Phoenix.

Cursing, Sylvanas began running like she'd never run before, betting on that slim, miniature chance she had to avoid a nigh-certain demise. Cries of despair first, then the stench of rapidly burning undead flesh, then the sound of an enormous blast overwhelmed her senses, before the hill she was running down from exploded in flames.

---

Khadgar, stop the shield. The mage felt rather than heard the soothing voice in his head, and nearly dropped the spell anyway from surprise.

I cannot keep this up much longer. A'dal explained. We will have to fight them head-on until my power can be restored.

Slowly, reluctantly, Khadgar dismantled the joints that held together the barrier that protected the city. They'd been fighting for hours already, and A'dal's protective dome was the only reason they had survived this long – but Khadgar himself was feeling the effect of holding up a barrier for so long wearing down on him, and he was merely directing the flow of energy from the naaru. The strain on A'dal must be a thousandfold.

But he sensed something else, something the naaru hadn't seen fit to relate to him. Were they really approaching the upper limit of A'dal's power, or was there another, more obscure reason?

---

"It is about time." Illidan said, rising from his position overlooking the city. Vashj cast a questioning glance at him, but he paid no heed. He had been patient long enough for the naaru to display a weakness – he could see it with those blind eyes, the slight fading of the normally invisible mass of threads that composed the shield protecting Shattrath. If he did not use it now –

All of a sudden, without warning, the globe of light subsided, collapsing harmlessly into itself, the Mana sustaining it dissipating into thin streams of energy that faded into the air. Just like that, the naaru's power had been removed from Illidan's grasp.

Treason. Illidan thought immediately. Who betrayed my plans to him? Yet he could think of noone. Only Vashj had been explicitly told some of the details of his scheme, and she was by him the whole time. Could A'dal have guessed...? Impossible.

"Lord Illidan, is there something amiss?" The Naga queried in her hissing voice.

"Round the troops." He growled instead of responding. It looked like he was going to have to do it the old-fashioned way. Without the barrier, they should be able to begin the siege properly. "We're going in."

"As you command." Vashj replied, and called out to her Naga. The plan had already been discussed. She'd take her own forces as well as any Felblood Elves Illidan had managed to keep from Kael'thas and assault from the west, against the gate leading to the portion called the Aldor's Rise. He would take however many Fel Orcs and Demons he had in his service, which composed the bulk of his forces, and begin the siege from the opposite side, against the so-called Scryers that had betrayed him.

The soil was scorched and blackened as he tread towards Shattrath, towards his last desperate hope of winning the war against the Legion.

---

Though she had not been a field commander in over ten thousand years, Maiev had easily grown accustomed to her self-proclaimed role of captain of the Scryer defense. Though they had gone through being High Elves, then Blood Elves, then Scryers, she had not found it difficult to remind them that they were descended from the kaldorei, and as a high-ranking Sentinel, Maiev expected and earned obedience. For the purpose of fighting from the walls, she had picked up a stray bow – though her marksmanship didn't quite rival Tyrande's, she was a pretty adept shooter and had felled many Demons during their efforts to overpower A'dal's shield.

The encounter with the naaru had been, simply put, a miracle. Maiev had given up hope on living after Illidan's supposed death. The news of his continued survival had awoken the old thirst for revenge in her, the fire that was consuming her from the inside – only, after so long in the hunt, there was little left in her to consume. The little reserves of energy she still had left were depleted during the journey to Shattrath, and she would have died there, not caring in the least, had she not met A'dal.

Being in the presence of Shattrath's Guardian awoke a sensation of absolute peace and serenity in Maiev's heart, one she had believed had been lost to her during the long ages of her duty as Illidan's jailor. She felt as if she was still wandering around the shaded forests of Ashenvale, beneath the light of Elune's stars, still a child being taught about the secrets of the woods, untouched by the miasma of the Burning Legion. A'dal represented all that could stir Maiev's heart. A world without the Legion. A world where the Legion had never been.

For this world, Maiev was ready to fight for. For this dream, for this utopia, the Avatar of Vengeance would rise, not for revenge, but for hope.

Hear me, defenders of Shattrath. A'dal's voice echoed inside Maiev's head. The shield protecting the city will be lifted. It will be up to you to hold the invaders until it can be established again.

Perfect. Maiev knew that defending would never be enough to grant them victory here. They needed to strike back. If they cut off their head, their enemies would flee in disarray. And it was exactly that head that Maiev had wanted to cut for ten thousand years now.

"Voren'thal." She addressed the Scryers' leader. "Take care of things over here. I'm getting down there." If the man had anything to say about this, Maiev didn't wait to hear. She simply discarded her bow, taking up her two circled blades, and leapt from parapet to parapet down to ground level, behind the barred gates that stood between herself and Illidan.

Just like the old times.

"Open the gates." She ordered the two Draenei Vindicators that stood guard on either side. The pair gave her an astonished look – it would be unthinkable for anyone to want to venture out there within the mass of demons, and disastrous if the gates stayed open for just that one second needed for them to overwhelm the defenders. But Maiev knew what she was doing. "Now. By A'dal's command, let me out of the city."

Whether it was Maiev's sheer commanding aura, or the claim she lay upon A'dal's decisions, the Warden neither knew nor cared. The point was that the gates opened, just enough for her to sneak through. Immediately, Illidan's servants flooded in from every direction, in their eyes, the door to their goal open, with just a little frail elf standing in their way.

"Vanish."

The massacre that followed, Maiev had not lived through its likes since the Legion's first invasion. Demons jumped at her from everywhere – and fell. A lot of them were cut down by her blades personally, others were slaughtered by the Scryer blood mages from the walls overhead. Still, she would have been long overwhelmed and killed, had the rest of the attackers not been simply purged out of existence, cut down to shreds by invisible strings that seemed to follow up on the movements of her weapons, extinguishing the Demon's lives in a pillar of light. Eventually, the tide of attackers slowed down, hesitating in front of instant, inescapable death, and the path cleared before her, cleared till she could lay eyes upon her final target.

"Illidan." Maiev roared, and with a step, closed the distance between them, her blade meeting the scythe-like curved weapons Illidan was wielding. His expression was a mixture of shock, outrage, and no small hints of fear, as the Warden fought him evenly, blow-for-blow. No, the difference was close, but Maiev definitely had the upper hand.

"You!" The demon-hunter exclaimed. "How did you – no!" His eyes widened further as he parried Maiev's strike, a blow that had nearly taken his head off. "I… impossible!" He finally realized the truth behind Maiev's overwhelming power, and his soon-to-be demise.

One of the naaru in the city, V'eru, had offered to donate a portion of its energy to empower Maiev's weapons. This, as A'dal had explained, was a great sacrifice, as it significantly sped the process of the donating naaru running out of energy and regressing to a darkened state, in which they have no control over their power and can be exploited by the dark energies of the void they draw upon. Though this was part of a naaru's natural lifespan, it was still a state akin to death for the immortal beings. The crystal that became the core of the Ashbringer, the mightiest weapon in Azeroth, was the core of a naaru that completely gave up its power for that purpose. A similar crystal, though of much lower magnitude, now burned in Maiev's blade, granting her the power of the Light.

"It's over, Illidan!" The Warden screamed, raising her enchanted weapon – Illidan was forced to cross both of his warglaives to block her strike, but Maiev pulled a poisoned dagger from her cloak with her free hand, and…

A storm of black streams of raw Mana raged over the battlefield, soaring across the sky like a demonic meteor shower, to either slam into the ground causing gigantic explosions that wiped Illidan's demons to dust, or bury themselves in Shattrath's walls with much the same effect – even the sanctified stone could not hold against their power, and part of the wall gave way, burying dozens of Scryer defenders beneath the rubble.

The chaos had separated Maiev from Illidan, and for the moment, they had bigger concerns. The Warden looked bewildered around for the source of this destruction – but she spotted Illidan first, an Illidan looking far more frightened than he had during their brief duel, staring straight ahead. Maiev followed his gaze onto a throng of new arrivals, demons of the worst sort. Unlike the Illidari, the newcomers seemed handpicked amongst the Burning Legion's elites – Dreadlords and Fel Reavers, Pit Lords and Infernals, Doomguards and Eredari Warlocks; it was a sight to behold, and one that froze Maiev cold in her place. Though she did not recognize the figure at the front, she could already tell he was one of the Ered'ruin, the same cursed Demon tribe like Kil'Jaeden and Archimonde themselves, which was more of a reason to be afraid.

"This is… Doom Lord Kazzak!!" Illidan exclaimed, instantly stepping back into a defensive posture – Maiev did not think that she had ever seen the Demon Hunter so frightened before, not once during his long years of imprisonment, and not even later during their multiple confrontations since his release.

"You are right, mortal." The demon's deep voice echoed like the burning heat, as flames raged from his eyes and hands. "I am Kazzak, herald of the Burning Legion, and today is the day you will perish."

"Kazzak?!" Maiev yelled suddenly, her recollection striking back at her. "You mean – "

"Yes, night elf." The Eredar lord replied. "You must have heard my name during your confrontation with my servant, Morgoron. You must have guessed by now that it was my hand that led you to this place." Though Maiev did not respond, words frozen within her mouth, the Doom Lord seemed to take her reply for granted. "You were a wonderful toy, Maiev Shadowsong. And an excellent tool."

"What do you mean?" Maiev snapped angrily.

"Did you think that all those years in Outland left you unchanged? Untainted? Wrong, elf. You carry within you a curse more ancient than the Legion or the Pantheon, a curse fed throughout those years you lay in your cage, imprisoned in despair. Did you hear whispers, Warden? Voices talking to you in the darkness?"

Maiev flinched. It was true, but she had assumed it was just the depression of her imprisonment and burning desire for revenge getting at her. She had –

"Unbound evil, bent on destruction. Eons ago, from the shattered remnants of the Old Gods of Azeroth, imbued with their own formidable power, the Titans constructed an artifact known as the Mirror of the Abyss. That item was created with one purpose in mind, and one purpose only. To conquer the indomitable might of the single sentient race in the universe whose power matched the Titans – the Angels of Light, the naaru."

Maiev blinked. The Old Gods? She had heard those stories before. But how did they –

"Once they ascertained the naaru were benevolent, and would not attempt to harm or destroy them, the Titans established welcomed peace with them, and shattered the Mirror in three shards, so that it could never be used again. But ages went by, and the Old Gods, merely slumbering beneath the surface of Azeroth, awoke once more. Their murmurs drove the Highborne of Tirisfal mad, twisted the Aqir into the Nerubian spiders, vanquished the remnants of the Troll empires of Ahn'Qiraj… paved the path for all that the Legion and its harbinger, the Scourge, would bring forth. The pieces of the Mirror of the Abyss slowly regained a small part of the original's formidable strength – though not by any means as strong as the prototype, instead of being useless as originally intended, they are now miniature versions of their combined form. One found its way to Northrend, and was used by my master, Kil'Jaeden, to seal the Frozen Throne and the Lich King's prison. The other was lost somewhere in the depths of the Maelstrom. The third…"

"When Medivh opened the Dark Portal and initiated the First War, even in his wildest dreams he could not have guessed the adverse effects of its opening. One of the Old Gods was buried beneath what is now called the Blasted Lands. When the Portal was opened, the pulse of magic was so strong that a part of him, the core of his essence, was warped across the Twisting Nether into Outland. Attracted by the magical energies of Shadowmoon, it found its way beneath the valley, where it resides even as we speak, ever-growing in strength. His dark influence has corrupted your mind, making you easy prey for the curse of the shard of the Mirror of the Abyss that the ancient deity had managed to replicate here from the original's core. Though this wasn't probably in the Old God's original intentions, it has transformed you into a living counter weapon against the Light. The naaru, A'dal, sensed this as soon as you entered Shattrath, but foolishly allowed you to stay, hoping that you could be cured, and even managed to somewhat contain the corruption that was eating you alive, along with the efforts of the naaru whose crystal is now bound to your weapon. Their benevolence was their downfall. They greatly weakened themselves in the process, and were unable to hold the city's defense, thus leading into your confrontation with Illidan, which was one of our prime goals, and opened the path for us to take Shattrath by force."

"So you see, Maiev Shadowsong… what we could not touch, you brought within our grasp. Your blind hatred has allowed us to conquer the last pocket of resistance in Outland. With Shattrath gone, every Alliance and Horde stronghold in this land will fall, and we will be free to use the Dark Portal once more and invade Azeroth en masse. Such service to the Legion hasn't been seen even from its greatest field commanders."

Every word felt like another stab in Maiev's mind. Manipulated, led like a dog on an invisible leash, tossed around like a ball between the Burning Legion and the Old God for their own purposes, and now she had to bear the curse of knowing that she had condemned the world, and knowing she could have done nothing to prevent it.

"Ideally, we would have had you finish Illidan off while you were at it, making things even easier for us. But there was a margin of error, you understand – the off-chance that your side would dominate the battlefield, and the naaru would come up with a last desperate plan – did you know that the Terrace of Light was once part of a naaru fortress like Tempest Keep, able to shift through dimensions when propelled by one of them? – that could still somehow thwart our plans. Rather than risk it, I decided to come here myself and destroy you both while you are at your weakest, sealing our ultimate triumph."

Maiev could not even raise her arms to defend herself, not when guilt and horror was consuming her. Doom Lord Kazzak pointed at her with his finger, charging a bolt of Nether Shadow.

"Farewell."

The pulsing, sparkling black energy of the Shadow Bolt struck, but was consumed by another, deeper darkness. When the aftermath of the attack subsided, a gigantic black shape towered nearly at the Doom Lord's formidable height, emulating a huge shadow of Maiev's form almost to the letter. In front of the Avatar's feet, the Warden herself stood still, surrounded by the Light. The Holy Light, the power of the naaru, the light of Elune. The hope of all beings that one day, the demons would be gone, and the Legion would be but a forgotten nightmare.

"You took things too far, Doom Lord Kazzak." Maiev made a broad motion with her right arm, and the Avatar of Vengeance imitated her. Thousands of shadows rose from the battlefield, angry spirits of vengeance that were more than willing to fight by Maiev's side. "Your pride will become your tomb today."

Only a few feet away, another darkness akin to the one Kazzak had used against her blazed, surrounding Illidan's body – when that dissipated, a demon emerged from within, matching in color and quality a mixture between Maiev's Avatar and Eredar sorcery. "Though I hate to side with the Warden, there's no other choice. To destroy you, and end the Legion's hold on me – I will kill you."

Maiev nodded slightly. Her old self would never have considered siding with Illidan. But she had managed to learn, at least, that the world was not white-and-black. And if she was going to defeat Kazzak, if she was going to realize everyone's hope for a better future – she would just have to ally herself with a very, very dark shade of grey.

For now, at least.