Saurfang didn't sleep, despite exhaustion; his mind would not settle and he managed to only doze a few minutes here and there. It had been a long, late night…not that he was complaining…at all. Because, well…because. He watched Gylledra as she slept peacefully, though, looking calm and innocent. The visage belied her true nature, she'd lived probably two hundred of his lifetimes and endured horrors that made his own pale in comparison. Everything about her was unexpected; meeting her on the bank of a creek, the ease he felt when talking to her, the bond they shared, how she felt in his arms, and how her touch ignited the long-dead flame inside him. He never would have believed what he felt was ever possible for him again, it wasn't even like this before. The thought gave him a twinge of guilt, he shouldn't be making comparisons.

He doubted very much his worthiness of Gylledra; he had done nothing to deserve the regard she had for him, but he knew also that if he said as much, she'd firmly remind him…again…that it was she who made such determinations. The thought made him smile; no, she was not timid and would not hesitate to put him in his place. But the thing that surprised him most about her, was that she made him laugh. He could never guess what was going to fall out of her mouth next, and it was different from Nasorya's obnoxiousness. Gylledra told the truth without a care at all for what anyone thought and for him, it made every moment with her a delight. Mostly…unless she was pointing out his own unpleasant truths, of course.

It was the unspoken hope of Saurfang and the rest of the Horde, that on the other side of this war, there would be a home and a life in this land. He had been at war for as far back as his memory stretched and now it was time for something else. If he could not get his warrior's death…he would settle for peace, for having no reason to drive his axe through another body. Hope was dangerous…it was a thing he had not wrestled with in a very long time, but it was one of the many things the elven woman asleep at his side had brought back to him. But now was not the time to dwell on fanciful thoughts.

When he heard the shuffling of others rising from their bedrolls, Saurfang gently nudged Gylledra. She muttered something in Shalassian that sounded very rude. After another nudge, she blinked groggily as the din of activity outside grew. Strands of hair had come undone from her usually pristine braid, and stuck out at every angle.

"How kind of you to let me sleep for seven minutes, Varok." She squinted at him a little, then sat up, rubbing her face.

"It was a couple of hours." He smiled, folding his arms behind his head, still stretched out.

"What a terrible commander." She told him then, through an indelicate yawn. "Lazing about…" Her gaze raked shamelessly up his naked form. "…while everyone else is hard at work." But she couldn't stop her smile.

"I'd wager they're barely awake, let alone already hard at work." He snorted. She sprawled theatrically across his chest.

"I am barely awake."

"There is no one to blame but yourself."

"Oh, I beg to differ." She scoffed and looked up to meet his gaze, shifting so that her face was over his. "I wasn't inside myself last night."

"Hm. True." He chuckled and with one hand pulled her to sit astride him. His body could stir to the mere thought of her, and touching her was far more potent. She kissed him as his fingers made their way up her thighs. There was a distant shout followed by commotion and more raised voices. Gylledra sat upright with a sigh.

"Duty calls, Lord Saurfang…"

"It does…" He sat up and kissed her neck, watching her resolve quickly slipping as his hands moved over her bare back and hips.

"Shouldn't we…be getting dressed?" She breathed and Saurfang smiled inwardly, amused at how easy it was to distract her this way. Gylledra was a terrifyingly powerful, menacing, battle-hardened warrior…that seemed to melt whenever he put his hands on her.

"Yes, we should." He whispered before pressing his lips to hers and she nearly gave in as he stroked her tongue with his. She pulled back though.

"Then why are we…" She gave a small groan, pressing herself against him. "No. Not that I don't want to…obviously I do…" Damn, he thought, but she was right.

"I know." He smiled though, it wasn't as if they were deprived, by any means.

Gylledra was on her feet, pulling her clothes on seconds later, leaving him with that pang of longing. He struggled to stop thinking about having her wrapped snugly around him again, her body writhing beneath him as she—he forced the thought out, shaking his head and clearing his throat.

"War waits for no one." He replied, following suit.

"Especially Archimonde." Her warmth vanished alarmingly, replaced at once by the cold, calculating, menacing warrior version of herself. "He will burn this mountain to ash to get what he wants, and enjoy it that much more knowing these lands had become a place that I would make a home in."

"The demon knows you?" It was still surprising how much he didn't know about her.

"He is no small foe, he's a lieutenant of Sargeras." She glanced over, doing up her vest. "The times I was captured typically…involved him."

"Captured?" He murmured, then something…anger perhaps…seemed to flash in her eyes as she looked at him.

"I was something of a plaything, he seemed to think. You can imagine my invested interest in his defeat." Her tone was clipped but she sighed and reached for her coat. "But, I got away. Every time." She plastered on a smile in attempt to mask the sudden rage that had bubbled up. He knew it was not directed toward him, but it led him to wonder what Archimonde had done to her…he could guess and firmly pushed it, too, out of mind.

"How did you get away?" Saurfang rumbled.

"Well…" Her expression softened a little. "I have a close friendship with a very tenacious dragon whose temper rivals any I've encountered." He found it difficult to imagine Nasorya with a temper, she'd never raised her voice in anything but raucous laughter since he'd met her. But then, he had seen her true form and watched as she delightedly tore demons limb from limb.

When Saurfang and Gylledra emerged from his tent, no one batted an eye, no one looked in their direction at all, pointedly being interested in things in any direction but theirs. That was just as well, really, everyone had bigger problems to worry about than who slept in whose tent.

Jaina Proudmore and the rest of her Alliance troops had begun building a base at the foot of the mountain, which would be Archimonde's first stop. Within the next day, the Horde had found a defensible spot about halfway up and they were now building. Saurfang oversaw the perimeter wall construction and security posts while Thrall managed the logistics and plans to slow the demon lieutenant as best they could. Nasorya, in dragon-form, assisted with moving materials while Gylledra pored over the maps and diagrams with Thrall and his advisors. Her knowledge in this was invaluable, she had fought these demons before and had a better idea of what their tactics might be.

"I can say with certainty that there is a Legion base established on the mountain somewhere; they know there is a resistance, they'll have planned for that." Gylledra told Thrall as Saurfang entered the barracks. She pointed to the map. "I would think this region is where they likely are, and if that is the case, they will have enough troops nearby to split and come at our encampment from both sides to try and clear his path, which divides us….and there are a great many more of them than there are of us."

"I am glad for our new allies; alone, the orcs could not withstand attack from both sides." Thrall murmured. He leaned on the table with both hands, staring down at the map as Gylledra moved the small stones representative of their troops and the Legion's in illustration.

"Archimonde will start with the Alliance base, though, he takes too much pleasure in wreaking havoc and inflicting pain not to, it will be a point of pride for him, to kill his way up the mountain." Her jaw clenched and unclenched then she glanced up at Saurfang. She hadn't been involved in planning the strategy during their last battle, but it was clear that this was where she was in her element. "They will decimate the base, I only hope that human can get some of them out alive. Complete sacrifice will not serve our cause."

"Are you certain he won't be stopped on his way up?" Saurfang asked as he walked up beside her.

"Absolutely." She was calculating, efficient, and to the point. Gylledra would never soften the blow of a hard truth. "I know Malfurion, the plan was never to stop Archimonde from getting to the top, only to slow the bastard while he prepares some catastrophic trap to destroy him."

"Ah, that's right, you fought in the first invasion." Thrall crossed his arms, regarding her.

"Do not be surprised if his plan kills us all in the process of destroying Archimonde. The last time he had a big idea, this world had only one continent…and, well, now there are many." A little amusement seemed to flit across her face. "He is nothing if not capable of achieving results." She paused for a beat or two. "I know none of us would be here if we weren't willing to die for this world."

"Malfurion makes for a powerful ally." Saurfang nodded.

"Do not expect him to remain your ally, they are highly suspicious of outsiders, particularly those who try logging their forests." She looked at the map. "If Archimonde takes the approach I think he will, the demons will be expecting to surprise you, since they assume you are stupid."

"To slow them down we will want a stronger defense where they will hit and perhaps ranged attacks from inside our base to at the least thin them out." Saurfang told them. Thrall nodded in agreement.

"Get what archers we have and face ballistae at both sides, have catapults ready as well." Their Warchief took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He looked concerned, they all knew their losses would be great. There was no way to come out of this without massive casualties. Silence hung heavily in the air.

"I must reconcile the fact that it will not be my strike that kills him. All that truly matters though, is that he dies." Gylledra said quietly then looked from Thrall to Saurfang, her expression softened. "I must see to it that Nasorya is not terrorizing anyone. We'll make some rounds and check perimeter mines, you know where to find me if you need to."

Saurfang watched Gylledra leave; she had given them a viable plan of action in a situation that would have been purely guesswork otherwise. Growing to know her more and learning what else lay beneath her surface would be an adventure in and of itself. The curving view of her hip-swaying departure was particularly pleasing, but it was imperative to keep from becoming distracted. They'd had relatively little contact with the chaos of working on the base; though it was likely she was avoiding losing focus as well. Despite his efforts, Saurfang found his mind wandering to her often, his desire rising as though he were a young orc again.

Thrall cleared his throat, pulling Saurfang back out of his musings and he looked over, shifting a little, then frowning down at the map, giving an approving nod at nothing in particular. He doubted the effectiveness of this maneuver, attempting to cover up where his thoughts had been hovering.

"We are fortunate to have found Gylledra, or rather, that she found us." The Warchief told him, confirming suspicions about the obviousness of his thoughts. "She has already given the Horde so much; many owe her their lives. Now, she may be the difference between death and victory. Should she wish it, the Horde would welcome her as one of our own." Saurfang glanced up at Thrall.

"Isn't she the one you should be telling that to?" He asked.

"I intend to, but you should know it too." The Warchief was no fool and knew without needing to ask that Saurfang's involvement with Gylledra went well beyond a simple dalliance. He fully intended for her to be a permanent fixture in his life.

.

Nasorya felt anxious; Gylledra was in the midst of a frustrating cycle of experiencing emotion then immediately barricading herself safely behind the tall walls that were war. The warm, glowing openness she'd been radiating had receded beneath a steely glare as the preparations for what would be Azeroth's stand against invasion began. More concerning, however, was the knowledge that the demon coming for the World Tree was none other than Archimonde, with whom Gylledra had a long and terrible history. That fact alone no doubt had contributed heavily to the chilly attitude taken on by her sister in all things but blood.

"Nasorya." Saurfang's gravel cannon of a voice startled her and she dropped her cup, spilling water down the front of her. She shook it off her hands, muttering a curse or two, and casting a somewhat annoyed glance at him. How in the ever-living hells a creature of his titanic mass was able to sneak around was a complete mystery to her.

"You need to wear a bell." She snapped, grabbing a cloth to dry off more.

"Forgive me." He shifted, seeming perhaps a bit uncomfortable. They hadn't had much cause to speak alone with one another, and Saurfang undoubtedly assumed that Gylledra had told Nasorya about…everything…which she had, of course.

"Well, out with it, you're obviously here to talk about Gyll. What's she done?" She folded her arms, enjoying his visible discomfort. "Or…what's she not done?" A smirk snaked across her lips and the mountainous orc set his jaw for a brief moment.

"Anticipating a fight against Archimonde has obviously got her, I don't know…out of sorts…" He began. Oh, serious talk. Damn. Nasorya wondered if this was where he started asking her for information about Gylledra instead of acquiring it directly. "Whatever her reasons, just…don't let her do anything to get herself killed." Nasorya's eyes widened a little.

"Funny, I'd thought about saying the same thing to you, but…you don't need to know her for as long as I have to understand that if she sets her mind to do something stupid she will do it with or without interference from us."

"Of that I have no doubt." He grumbled.

"I do understand what you mean. I know that this battle will not be won here, and Gylledra knows it too. But don't be fooled by the methodical way she plots her battles. The plan is for everyone else to follow, she's much more impulsive than she will ever admit. Sometimes it leads her to victory…other times it is to her great detriment."

There were times Nasorya could still feel the weight of chains on her body. There were echoes of the pain from raw, open wounds on her wrists and ankles from manacles she'd worn for more years than she could count. The scars were so deep even Gylledra could not make them go away. Nasorya kept them hidden now, with small leather bracers; it was easier to not have to explain them. She'd lived much longer even than Gylledra, and in all that time, her most vivid memories were seeing the bloodied, raging elf destroying the prison around her in a fit of self-destruction. Gylledra's face had seemed almost feral as she peered into the darkness where Nasorya lay in filth and dejection, too weak to care about living or dying.

Gylledra had struck off the chains and manacles without asking any questions, without knowing anything about who she was rescuing and scooped Nasorya's thin, humanoid form into her arms.

"I'm a dragon…" Nasorya had weakly announced. Better to get that bit of information out of the way up front lest she only be abandoned later on for what she was.

"I'm an elf." Her rescuer replied without hesitation.

"No, you don't understand…"

"What is there to understand?" Gylledra gave a little shrug, lacking any and all concern, which mystified Nasorya at the time.

"You're not afraid I will eat you?"

"I was hoping you would, it would save me some trouble." Gylledra grunted, hoisting Nasorya into a more comfortable grip as she picked her way out of the rubble. At first it had seemed like a joke, and Nasorya started to smile, but she saw the look on the elf's face, one she had seen before on other faces, mostly those who had passed through that prison. She had come there to die.

"You're saving me so that I will kill you?"

"No, but I wouldn't mind if you'd be so kind."

"Well, I'm not going to be so kind." Nasorya declared, obstinately.

"Very well, there are plenty of other things that will." The pain and regret in Gylledra's voice had cut through Nasorya like a blade. She'd seen more suffering than probably any living thing.

"I won't let them."

"You're a half-dead dragon, I cannot suppose you're equipped to stop much of anything right now." They continued out of the worst of the ruins of what had been the prison.

"I'm rather industrious, you will find, when I put my mind to something." Nasorya watched her rescuer's face closely. "If you came here to die, why did you tear apart that fortress? Why did you decide to carry me out of it?"

"For one thing, I didn't think you'd talk so much."

"Ooh, bad luck, there. I haven't had anyone to talk to in centuries."

"Wonderful." Gylledra rolled her eyes.

"I think you probably shouldn't die." Nasorya went on. She had been so very weak, but her mind was as sharp as ever.

"I think that's not up to you." Gylledra set her down beside a large wall and began mending her. She said nothing, but Nasorya could feel how powerful she was as her strength was restored with shocking speed.

"What has happened that was terrible enough you would seek your own end?"

"Do you ever cease your yammering?" Gylledra snapped, but didn't quit her medicinal ministrations.

"No." Nasorya smiled. "I'm clever enough to know that you have much left to do."

"I have one thing left to do."

"I disagree."

"And why should your disagreement have any bearing on me?" Anger was coursing through Gylledra, but most of it was directed at herself.

"There is no one else to tell you there is still goodness in you. If there wasn't, you would have left me in the rubble to perish." Nasorya gave a shrug.

"There is no goodness left." Gylledra stood, and with her strength miraculously returned, so did Nasorya.

"There is, I can…"

"You don't know!" Gylledra shouted.

"Then tell me." Nasorya folded her arms but Gylledra's eyes had turned black suddenly and she came forward, grabbing her roughly, hands on either side of Nasorya's face.

Things from inside Gylledra were violently forced into view for Nasorya. In what was mere moments she had witnessed almost the entire life of this stranger, and there were indeed horrors, things she'd chosen to do that were monstrous. But she saw everything else…everything that proved Nasorya right. The images and memories tore through her like jagged glass, sapping some of the strength that had just been returned to her.

Gylledra let go of her but Nasorya threw her arms around her, squeezing her in a tight hug. She doubted very much that anyone hugged this crotchety, unhappy, self-loathing elf.

"What…are you doing?" Gylledra demanded, holding her arms out to avoid reciprocating in any way.

"Being a good friend." Nasorya answered before finally taking a step back.

"We aren't friends."

"Of course we are, I know everything about you now."

"And I know nothing of you, dragon."

"Well, elf, if I showed you, your tiny brain would explode!" Nasorya laughed as Gylledra stared at her, baffled. "So, friends?"

"All I've done is set you free…" Gylledra clearly wondered what kind of mistake she'd made.

"Yes…hence the friendship."

"I'm not sure you know how friendship works."

"DUCK!" A demon had scooted around a corner and hurled his weapon at them. With a string of curses, Gylledra had dodged it just in time. Letting out an exasperated sound, she kicked a stone she'd charged with void magic at the demon, striking it in the chest. They hurried farther away, behind them, the demon screamed as whatever horrible thing she'd made happen…happened.

"So, like I said, friends." Nasorya told Gylledra when they reached a sheltered outcropping.

"We've only just met, I don't even know your name."

"But you're helping me, what does a name have to do with that?"

"Helping you doesn't make us friends." Gylledra had wiped some dirt off her own face with her sleeve, letting out a long breath.

"Of course it does."

"I'd hate to think what that makes those I haven't helped."

"Dead, I imagine." Nasorya mused.

"That is not helpful." Despite the dire tone, there was something then in Gylledra's eyes, the tiniest spark of visible amusement.

"Luckily, for me, you are."

"For fuck's sake." Gylledra rubbed her face and looked away, but not before Nasorya saw the ghost of a smile as she shook her head. There were several long moments of silence as she worked on building a fire. "My name is Gylledra." Delight had surged through Nasorya.

"I am Nasorya." She replied. "Thank you."

Gylledra had tended to the wounds and nursed Nasorya back to health without questions or demands, even amidst the ridiculous chatter. Everyone Nasorya had known of her own kind were gone, all of them tortured by demons seeking new ways to make weapons; she'd simply been waiting for her death, the world she came from had been destroyed utterly. Gylledra was sarcastic, her wit a little acidic sometimes, but she was kind…and she had been just as alone as her new friend.

"Everything alright?" Pava asked. Nasorya blinked and looked up from her reminiscing as they chopped wood.

"Yes, of course…" She smiled, giving a shrug. "Just remembering things from…the old days." Across the camp she watched Saurfang emerge from the barracks and catch up to Gylledra. It was too far away to hear what they were saying, but Nasorya found it comical how they both were sort of puffed up and official-looking attempting, to hide how disgustingly besotted they were with one another. Pava noticed where she was looking and gave a quiet laugh.

"That…is so strange." She commented.

"Why?" Nasorya frowned, silently daring the orc to say something untoward about different peoples being together.

"I had begun to believe there would be no happiness for orcs, not in our world before, and not in this one. I suppose it means there is hope." Pava's answer was unexpected, but she was right.

.

When the lookouts came hurtling into the encampment screaming their warnings, there were mere moments only before the throngs of demons were at their gates. As predicted, they came at the Horde from both sides. Thrall commanded the lower gate while Saurfang gave orders at the upper gate.

They were sustaining major losses far too quickly when suddenly white-blue blasts of arcane wrapped in coils of darkness exploded out of nowhere, decimating several large demons. Saurfang glanced back to see Gylledra, fully armored, striding toward the foray, enveloped in black tendrils of void rolling off her like heavy smoke. Above them, winged, bat-like beasts were descending but Nasorya was up there with them, snatching them from the air, setting them on fire, and throwing down the flaming corpses onto the Legion troops like grisly artillery.

Gylledra managed to push them back somewhat, throwing up barriers that slowed and inflicted damage. As she fought, her blades tearing through demon flesh, her attention was repeatedly drawn to the lower gate where heavier forces were attacking, it was also the direction from which Archimonde would come. Saurfang made a decision as he swung his axe, embedding it in a giant spider-like creature that oozed green.

"Get to the lower gate…we have this one handled!" He barked at her, over the roar of shouting, weapons against armor, and the screams of the dying. She gave a wordless nod, erecting one last barrier before turning in an all-out sprint toward the lower gate. They were going to be overrun, there was no question about that, but they had to defend for as long as possible, counting on the human mage to get the survivors out. It wasn't something he was comfortable with, but there was little choice. If Jaina Proudmore betrayed them, he could at least trust Gylledra to get as many out as she could.

.

When the earth began to rhythmically tremor beneath their feet, even the attacking demons gave a brief pause. Gylledra thought her heart had stopped for several beats when she saw the towering form of Archimonde heading for them. He had never appeared that way the times she had encountered him; he was Eredar, big, yes but not like this. He towered over even trees, consuming the energy from the very mountain itself around him.

She barely recognized the scream of unadulterated fury and hate that tore from her throat as he drew closer to the gate. She reached out, planting void charges over the remaining goblin landmines to multiply their power in the hopes doing any kind of damage to the gigantic demon. His laugh as they detonated enraged her further.

"I smell your magic, little witch." He chuckled. "But I don't have time to visit today."

Gylledra saw red and just as she rushed forward toward what would no doubt be her end, she was grasped around the waist as she shrieked in Shalassian before hissing the vilest insults she could think of at Archimonde in Eredun.

All reason and control had left her as she hurled bolts of arcane, void, and fire at him, all of which were easily deflected. He was much more powerful than she'd ever seen, and her rational mind fought to rein herself in. It was Thrall who grasped her, to her surprise.

"This is not where you die, elf." He bellowed at her. "Stall what you can, get our people back, save the survivors. He will not be defeated here!"

Gylledra had to choose. She could revel in shedding the blood of demons and perhaps give Archimonde a scratch or two, giving in to her lust for vengeance before she was inevitably killed…or she could stop thinking about herself and give the orcs the option to survive. The choice should not have been a difficult one, she knew what the right thing was in her rational mind, but there were thousands of years' worth of pain clawing at her. When did doing the right thing become so difficult? Archimonde would fall into Malfurion's trap and they would win…she needed to let go of the fantasy that she would look into the demon's eyes as he died. She'd come to love this Horde, not just Varok, and she wanted them to live.

"I will get them out." She told Thrall, and only then did he release her. She rushed forward, not to inflict damage but to teleport what surviving soldiers there were to the interior of the encampment where Jaina's mass-rescue would take them to safety…if she herself had not been destroyed.

She dodged blades and strikes, looking for every still-living orc, troll, tauren, or goblin she could find, moving them to the center. Varok had ordered his troops to pull back and they too were gathering in the middle. It pained her to see how many had already died, and worse still to see how many were raised to fight against them immediately after.

Thrall stood out ahead of them, the fortifications were demolished, all their artillery, the buildings, all the work they'd done was rubble, but it had slowed Archimonde, and Gylledra could see the anger in his face, which brought her some satisfaction.

"Your resistance was for naught! Pathetic!" Archimonde boomed. "Your people fail again and again. Orcs are but the very picture of weakness! And all of you will die today…for nothing." He was taunting them, trying to get them to attack and Gylledra saw that Thrall was too far from the rest of them.

"Our spirit is strong, something the Legion failed to see before. If we are to be defeated, at least we are FREE!" With that, Thrall unleashed a massive bolt of lighting that struck the demon, scorching his flesh and he roared, enraged. It was a joy to see Archimonde's pain, even if it was just a little.

Time was drawing short, however, and Gylledra lunged forward, wrapping an arcane tether around Thrall's waist. As she had anticipated, Varok grabbed her, pulling her back and with her, came Thrall just as the world around them all blurred and changed.

The surviving Horde now stood on a peak opposite from Hyjal, high enough that they could see the furious Eredar destroy what was left of the base before raising their dead for his army. No one spoke, the Alliance survivors watched in the same stunned silence, all of them helpless to assist now, they could only observe, clinging to hope that Malfurion's plan did not fail, lest this be the last they ever looked upon this world as their home.

Gylledra stepped forward, chest heaving, and she ignored the wounds she'd sustained. Her helm vanished as she peered across the expansive valley. There was sweat and blood on her face, both trickling down the sides of her neck. Every second ticked by like a hundred years, it seemed, Archimonde's progress looking much slower than it had felt when they were fighting him. All sense of time was lost, it had to have been more than an hour that they watched in horrified silence, waiting.

The final base, that of the Night Elves, at the summit was summarily destroyed with almost no effort. He had amassed so much power throughout the ascent, it didn't seem possible that any trap might stop him.

"Look." Varok whispered suddenly and Gylledra narrowed her eyes, seeing it too. Wisps were rising from the forests of Mount Hyjal, and even from around where the survivors were standing, all of them shot toward Archimonde, appearing to hover harmlessly so that he ignored them, climbing the tree itself.

"What can wisps do?" Thrall asked, glancing at Gylledra as though she was the resident expert on all things elf.

"I have no idea…" She murmured. They were swarming, moving around Archimonde and Nordrassil alike. More and more gathered as he climbed.

The sound of a horn rang out clearly across the region in a way that could only be amplified by magic. It was a signal for…something, it had to be Malfurion. Everyone seemed to move forward, waiting for whatever was about to happen, and had they not watched it with their own eyes, none of them would have believed it possible.

With streaks of light, the wisps seemed to penetrate the World Tree itself and only seconds passed before the explosion that shook the earth hard beneath them all; many were knocked off their feet with the force of it. Gylledra had shielded her eyes and against the powerful shockwave she saw Archimonde destroyed. His forces were decimated, the war ended in the blink of an eye…but not without cost. The forests around Nordrassil were ash, the tree it self terribly damaged, she could feel the absence of its power even from that distance.

"It is done…" She breathed, and similar declarations rippled through the crowd, voices raising. They wanted to cheer because it was over, but the losses were so great that it seemed disrespectful. Gylledra could only stare, unable to identify how she felt just then, as though somehow it wasn't real yet. But…the invasion was over.