Jaina regretted the topic of leadership immediately. The discussion fell into chaos as both sides, though willing to cooperate and communicate, distrusted the other too much to make decisions of that magnitude in front of them. The dwarven council were most contentious, mostly with each other; the sting of Magni Bronzebeard's non-responsive state and his daughter Moira's hard-nosed martial law in response was still fresh, even if the open hostilities had ended.
Each member of each race worried that the others wouldn't take the other races' needs to heart if put in charge. Malfurion expressed concern over the dwarves and gnomes, as their steel-and-stone technology conflicted with his druidism. They in turn felt that his status as Archdruid in the Cenarion Circle conflicted with Alliance leadership, as the Circle was neutral to the war.
Velen expressed no desire to lead the others, and received no nominations. Neither did he nominate anyone else, merely folding his weathered hands in his robe sleeves and watching them argue with his infinite patience.
Anduin's concerns about his own inexperience were respectfully agreed with by all. He suggested Jaina as High Queen, and she was too surprised by the nomination to even respond.
As for the Horde, both Baine and Vol'jin agreed that the other would be a fit leader, and even concurred that the blood elves' regent Lor'themar might be an intelligent leader. He just wouldn't be an intelligent choice. The orcs had been worked into patriotic fervor yearning for Garrosh's promised glory. They might not accept an elf leading them. Sylvanas, of course, was right out of the question. Her own city had been occupied by orcish soldiers ever since an indiscriminate bioweapon bombing had cleared a battlefield down to the last warrior – of all sides.
And then that nasty business of her attacking the Gilneans and using captured Alliance members as fodder to raise as her own loyal undead soldiers. As for the goblins, Trade Prince Gallywix had robbed his own people and tried selling them into slavery. Why Thrall had permitted the slimy little man to keep his crown (or top hat, in his case) was anyone's guess.
By the end, the Alliance decided that they needed no High King or Queen. Vol'jin and Baine agreed not to act against Garrosh yet either. It would be wiser to let him lead the battles he desired, and direct his energies at the Twilight's Hammer forces on Azeroth. The Horde would handle the troubles at home, and the Alliance would take the fight to the elemental benders' world. Aggra tried to volunteer her services until Alexstrasza informed the orc she was pregnant. Jaina congratulated her, though it was bittersweet. The child would not know its father.
"I will take my mate's body to Outland to rest with his ancestors," Aggra said in her quiet, severe voice, and left.
Once Baine and Vol'jin departed, the tension of the others eased. Jaina knew now was the time to discuss battle tactics, while they had no fear of the Horde overhearing.
Sokka and Suki gladly contributed tactics and strategies. Sokka requested rolls of blank parchment to make charts and graphs, while the rest of his friends pooled their collective knowledge to draw as complete a map as possible. Azula pointed out which areas she'd last known to be Twilight strongholds.
"Didn't Chromie say she could put us back at the same time we left? I don't see why we don't -" Sokka started to say, when a knock came from the door leading into the rest of the Violet Citadel.
Jaina waved the door open. A high elf floating off the floor drifted in and handed Sokka a letter without a word, then departed just as mysteriously.
"Oh," Sokka said as he read it. "It's from Chromie. She said she can't make it here personally, and regrets to inform us that Nozdormu and the rest of the Bronze Dragonflight decreed we can't go back to our own point in time. We have to go whenever and wherever the Dark Portal takes us."
"Does it say why?" Katara asked.
He flipped the letter over and shook his head. "No."
"Our plan remains the same," Jaina said. "We'll secure the Dark Portal, and free your world."
IIIII
Once the plans were drafted and magical copies made for the various leaders, most of them left Dalaran to assemble their troops. They were not planning on being in the battle themselves.
Malfurion went back to Mt. Hyjal to rejoin the druids in their fight. Gelbin and the dwarven triumvirate returned to Ironforge. Velen went home to the Exodar. Rhonin and Vereesa pledged support, but stayed in Dalaran to keep an eye on the nearby Wyrmrest Temple in case of further Twilight incursions. In the end, only Jaina, Anduin, Tyrande, Alexstrasza, and the off-worlders would be joining the armies.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Jaina asked Anduin later, once the Purple Parlor had half-emptied.
"They did their best to help us," he replied. "At Theramore, on Hyjal, and against Deathwing. I owe it to them."
"But you don't owe them enough to go so far into dangerous territory," she pressed.
"I know you're worried about me, Aunt Jaina. So would my father, if he were here," Anduin said. "But I can't worry about myself so much I shy away from danger. I'm King now, I can't hide in my castle forever."
"I know, you're just... so young," she sighed. "This happened much too soon. But it's your decision."
"Thank you." He smiled to her before heading towards the others.
"I'll be glad when we get out of here," Toph was saying. "I can feel all the way down through the sewers, and then it just stops. There's nothing holding this place up!"
"I'll just be glad once we're home," Katara said. "I can't believe it's been less than two months since we came to Azeroth."
"And even longer since we saw the South Pole," Sokka agreed. "With our luck, we're gonna get there and find out it's been melted, or they summoned a giant monster right in the middle of it, or something."
"Let's hope that isn't the case," Anduin said as he reached them.
"You know, with all the support everyone's sending us," Sokka said, "it actually makes me wish we'd landed here ages ago. Without all the Cultist trouble, I mean. Just getting some back-up on the Day of Black Sun would've been great."
Azula strode over to them. "That was a fun day, wasn't it?"
"Right," he said with a glower, "I really enjoyed you taunting me about my girlfriend being in prison."
"Really now, you're still mad about that? It was a stalling tactic, you already figured that out. And here she is, safe and sound." Azula gestured at Suki. "What I really came over here to ask is what are you planning on doing with the Avatar?"
"Like that's any of your business?" Katara said.
"I suppose not, but I am curious. I do hope dying on Azeroth didn't disrupt the Avatar cycle or anything."
"You tried to kill him in the Avatar state!"
Anduin once again had the discomfort of standing there when a personal conversation he didn't understand started up. He wished for a banquet table he could excuse himself to for snacks, but there were none.
"We don't know yet," Zuko said. "None of us know about Air Nomad funeral customs."
"It could be cremation, burial, burial at sea," Sokka said, "or it could be waiting on a cliff for a tornado or something. We have no idea."
"But it's been a week," Azula said. "How did you - ?"
"Jaina offered to use her magic to... preserve him," Katara said, "until we knew for sure we couldn't get him back." She hugged her arms.
"And now we do know," Sokka said. "I say we try to give him last rites before we go back."
"You know, I do remember hearing about an old practice..." Azula said, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "Something called a 'sky burial'. You just climb the tallest mountain you can find, and leave the dead under the open sky to be retaken by nature. Of course, it sounds like something people come up with when they were too lazy to cremate."
Katara blinked at her. "That... actually sounds like something an Air Nomad might do. Think about it, they're always traveling, they wouldn't worry about having cemeteries or tombs if they didn't even have permanent cities, would they?"
"You're right, it does," Sokka said. "But what about prayers or rituals?"
"I... I know. Holding on to his culture was so important to him. But now there's no way it... it'll ever come back." She paused a moment and rubbed her eyes. "He'd want to honor his people, but I think he'd be happy just knowing we tried our best."
Azula rolled her eyes. "I'm sure it will be a riveting ceremony. Have fun with that." And she left them as if repulsed by the show of emotion.
Zuko stared after her a moment before continuing the conversation. "Not to mention he's the Avatar. He's been part of every culture at one point or another. If we mess up, I don't think he'd really mind. As long as nobody starts a eulogy with 'flameo, hotman'..."
"I, ah, might know a place," Anduin said. They turned to him. "It's near here, actually. It's called the Storm Peaks. It's one of the tallest mountain ranges in the world."
"That sounds great." Katara smiled sadly. "How will we get there?"
"I'll ask Alexstrasza if she'd be willing to take you."
"You can come too, if you want. I think Aang would be happy to have people from all different nations, there, to..." She cleared her throat. "And you tried to save him. It means a lot to us that you tried."
"Oh. Of... of course," Anduin said. He bowed a bit to them, and crossed the room to find the Life-Binder.
IIIII
Alexstrasza stood on the balcony outside the Purple Parlor, gazing down on the city of Dalaran spread below, the last rays of daylight sparkling on its domed minarets haloed by floating crystals. Down below the markets and restaurants bustled, and one by one the magical street lamps glinted to life under stained glass lamp-shades. Krasus' Landing – named for her late beloved consort – saw a steady stream of travelers coming to and fro by air on their myriad mounts. Beyond the city's borders the land fell away into air, revealing a vista of snow-capped Northrend.
The air was pure and clean up here, kept magically warm, tingling with traces of the arcane, and tickled by chill breezes off the mountains below. The Life-Binder longed to take to the air in her true form and soar...
Her wish was granted shortly by King Anduin's request. The off-worlders desired a ride to the Storm Peaks for the last rites of their friend. Her heart ached at the thought of one so young struck down in his attempt to show compassion. He would have made a good friend to the red dragonflight.
Alexstrasza led Anduin and the five other youths to Krasus' Landing, the only place in the city with space permitting her full form. She transformed into a massive red dragon to the awe of onlookers, waited until the group was secure on her back, and launched into the air.
The unnatural warmth of Dalaran faded swiftly, overtaken by the year-round cold. By the time she reached one of the mighty columns of black stone, the sun had fully set. Above, the sky shone with a shimmering emerald aurora. Below, fog banks and whirling snowfall obscured the ground. They seemed to exist in a world away from the world, over islands peeking out of a sea of clouds. She alighted in the snow and waited for them to disembark.
"It's beautiful here," Katara said. "It reminds me so much of home..."
"I'm sure it's great," Toph said, shivering. "Who has him?"
Katara drew out a small crystal cube that Alexstrasza recognized as an arcane containment device. To an onlooker it looked like nothing but a simple box that fit in the palm of one's hand, but it contained a dimensional pocket that could be used to store anything... or anyone.
The girl fumbled a bit trying to activate it. There was a brief flash of light, and the human child's body appeared lying on the snow, looking completely unharmed, as if he only slept.
"I... I guess we should all take turns saying something about him," Katara said heavily.
Alexstrasza padded away to the edge of the precipice to give them privacy. Although she mourned any loss of life, it was not her place to intrude. She watched the flurries of snow and distant flashes of lightning in the darkening sky.
A while later, they approached her again. Their faces and eyes were red from both the cold and from tears. They hurt, but this had given them closure, to share the pain together in a solemn moment, away from a harrowed battlefield. She regarded them with soft sympathy and needed no words to know they were ready to leave.
IIIII
They were complete fools.
"She be gone," he'd said. I thought you were smarter than that, shadow hunter.
Of course Sylvanas hadn't left. Why miss out on such critical information? But it was better that none knew she'd heard it. Yes, she could have avoided playing her hand in the first place. But a little distracting theatrics and genuine proselytizing were never amiss. She'd planted doubts. She'd planted ideas. She'd assessed them directly by the looks on their faces at her words.
And then, she'd listened. After making a show of leaving, she cloaked herself with shadows and hid on the Parlor's roof. Even if she'd been visible, no one inside would have seen her, not even Vol'jin when he looked out the door. But this way left nothing to chance. Dalaran saw too much air traffic.
She got more than she hoped for when the children suddenly decided to leave the Avatar's body out in the open that very night. How easily they were led, and just as easily followed.
She didn't go immediately. She stayed put over the balcony's open door. There wasn't much to listen to by then. Azula struck up a conversation with Tyrande, acting coquettishly curious about night elf society. She asked Jaina a lot of questions about how magic worked. She put on the perfect play of eager student.
Every so often, Azula would say off-hand something like, "Those dwarves really don't get along, do they? I wonder why, if they're cousins. Family should get along, right?" or, "What did Sylvanas mean about the worgen being 'cursed'?"
The two proud women within would happily educate her, albeit with their own emotional biases. No matter. Sylvanas found any information useful. Good gossip could be hard to come by.
Once she spotted Alexstrasza coming in to land, Sylvanas hurried away. She shed the invisibility spell once she jumped over Dalaran's outer wall, coming to the liminal edge where no one went, and where a loyal val'kyr waited.
"We must go to the Storm Peaks, and swiftly before the snow buries him," Sylvanas said.
The val'kyr materialized in response. She was a translucent humanoid woman, floating aloft with feathered wings, her tall, muscle-bound body clad in iron armor. Her body and wings seemed made of dusk light, fading from white to dark blue-gray.
"Yes, my Queen," the val'kyr rasped, and took Sylvanas into her arms before flying away.
Sylvanas smiled to herself as they flew. If not for these new allies liberated from the Lich King's forces, her people would never have a chance to replenish once the last of the Scourge were wiped out. And now she had all of Azeroth and beyond available to her dominion.
The val'kyr flew about the mountains of the Storm Peaks, hovering close to each peak to peer through the snowfall. Sylvanas' own red eyes were unblinkingly alert for any sign of a body.
"There!" She pointed.
The Val'kyr bore her down to the freshly-disturbed snow, next to the fresh-looking corpse.
Normally she would not bother with children. They lacked training, experience, obedience. And like the gnomes, they also often lacked in armspan. They weren't useful to the Forsaken's forces – not that she'd turn them down if they wanted to join. It wasn't as if she had to feed them, after all.
This one was different. She'd heard he held the power to command all the elements, like a shaman. Could Thrall have stood up to him? That would have been an interesting duel to witness.
Humans, and most other mortal races, lacked any innate magic. The off-worlders were special. And this one was most special of all.
"Begin," she commanded.
The val'kyr raised a hand. Crackling webs of electric blue energy leaped through the air from her fingertips to the Avatar's body. The flesh began to glow, and the corpse began to rise from the snow, levitating as if pulled up by a hook through the heart.
Sylvanas grinned to herself again. The Warchief might disagree with her methods, but he couldn't disagree with the results. The Twilight's Hammer may be insane, but some of their ideas had merit – why not take advantage of a race of humans who could move the elements with their mind? That kind of unfettered magic, not beholden to silencing spells or asking the spirits for permission, had great military potential. And they would swear fealty to their new queen.
The lightning-like energy brightened, forking into the air around them. Clouds of frost billowed around the body. There was a brilliant flash as the ritual completed.
And the Avatar's corpse fell with a muffled thud back into the snow, motionless.
Sylvanas stared. "Arise," she commanded.
The body didn't move.
She turned to the valkyr. "What is the meaning of this?"
The valkyr's expression was hidden behind her helm, but her voice sounded dismayed. "I cannot grasp its soul, My Lady."
Sylvanas frowned. When first raised as Scourge, she'd had no body of her own either. She had been only an incorporeal spirit until she found and reunited with her cadaver. But she knew this wasn't the case here; no one could have turned the Avatar into a ghost.
"Then they were telling the truth. He did reincarnate," she said.
"Shall we search for his new body?"
Sylvanas nearly said 'no'. But didn't the Avatar's magic carry over lifetimes? Somewhere, on this planet or another, that magic potential lived on – and didn't even know itself yet.
She knew. And she would make it her mission to find and harness it.
"Yes," the Banshee Queen said at last. "Be discreet. Be patient. Find the new Avatar before its friends do."