Facing Azshara had been something that Anduin had never expected he would have to do. In all truth, he and most others had hoped or assumed the Naga Queen would continue to bide her time. Almost like kicking the can down the road for the future to have to deal with.
It was a selfish thing; but staring at her as she got closer, after wiping out her own forces in the process of taking out a quarter of theirs, Anduin really, really wished she was still a problem for future him.
He took a quick count of what they had left. Jaina was the only mage close enough in power to Azshara to be able to hold her own, but they still had a sizeable reserve once one combined the champions with himself and the rest of the leaders. But Anduin was relatively sure that some of them - many of them - would not leave Nazjatar alive.
He gripped his father's sword more tightly, rolling his shoulders as he adjusted the remains of his helm. They all formed a line now, Horde and Alliance leaders mixed together with champions. Sylvanas and her sisters stood to his left. The First Arcanist and Tyrande had moved to his right. And Jaina…
He deliberately did not look at Jaina, instead drawing himself up to his full height as the Queen of the Naga stopped thirty yards in front of them. She was gigantic, pulling herself along by her tentacles as her torso swayed.
She drew herself up, as if mocking his action, and smiled at them. Her voice was sickly sweet, cloying like honey, and he shook himself. "This is the might you have chosen to bear against me? I grow bored. Surely there is more to you than this?"
Azshara clasped two hands behind her back, gesturing with a third. "Are these your vaunted champions? The ones who defeated the Scourge? The Legion? The Destroyer? I expected you all to be taller."
"Are you here to offer your surrender?" Sylvanas tilted her head, one eyebrow raised. "Or are you just trying to talk us to death."
"Stand down, monster." Tyrande pointed her weapon at Azshara, the edge of it dancing with moonlight. "You are outnumbered."
"Oh sweetling." Azshara leaned down, until she was flat on the ground, her chin propped up by a fourth hand. Thalyssra stiffened next to Tyrande and drew one of Azshara's many eyes. "And you, you've finally left that adorable bubble of yours. Though I can't really blame you." Half her eyes swiveled to Tyrande. "Why, with her keeping my bed warm at night, there are any number of things I would do! People I'd betray. Could you imagine the empire you two could forge?"
She let out a laugh, a musical note that nevertheless sent a chill down Anduin's spine. Azshara swept a hand past Anduin and Sylvanas. "Certainly better than bowing to mortal whelps and a genocidal maniac."
"That sounds a little hypocritical," Anduin called out, drawing Azshara's attention away from Tyrande and Thalyssra and whatever manipulative game the Queen was trying to play. He wasn't going to play it and judging from Sylvanas's non-reaction neither was she. "If I recall my history, you've bowed to your own master, and I'd be careful with accusations we can easily bounce back to you."
Azshara's eyes narrowed. The air shifted suddenly, a bolt of pure lightning, so fast that Anduin had barely started to move in response when the thunder rolled. And yet it did not strike him. He heard the sundering of metal, the crack of an impact that sent a shockwave rippling through the ranks, nearly knocking some people over.
The dust cleared slowly, and Anduin saw, of all things, an Orc standing between himself and Azshara.
Galnir's left arm went limp, his shield hitting the ground, nearly cloven in two. His sword followed suit, and then the great warrior fell to his knees, smoke rising from his chest. Someone cried out, an agonized wail of grief, but the line held. The old warrior looked up to the sky, rattled out a joyous laugh, and slumped over.
Any good plan had multiple points of attack. And any target, no matter how well defended it was or how impossible the odds seemed, had weak points. Nathanos intended to find Azshara's weak points and then exploit them.
Azshara was vain. Powerful, but easily bored. In a way, it made her predictable in that there would be a time frame before she tired of toying with her prey and decided to kill it. From his vantage point at the battle he'd watched her eliminate a huge number of her own soldiers because the battle was going on too long.
And yet there seemed to be a method to that madness. Soldiers were expendable. Arrows in the quiver, as his Lady was so fond of saying. Behind Azshara were more soldiers, and siege weapons, and creatures the likes of which might give even Nathanos nightmares. But those were not what drew his attention; there was a steady stream of Naga fleeing the city. Civilians, lords and ladies, even hatchlings.
"She's evacuating." The Rangari, A'sooka peered over the outcropping next to him. Her eyebrows furrowed. "I never expected Naga to have civilians."
"Nor for the Queen to care about their fate," Nathanos mused. He looked at the Draenei,and then the paladin who'd been fished out of the water with her. "Do you see that siege weapon?"
Belariss looked in the indicated direction, and nodded her head.
"Take two of the rangers," Nathanos ordered. "And turn that weapon onto the city."
A'sooka looked like she was going to object, but Bela took her by the arm, and started to lead her away.
Satisfied, Nathanos ordered his other rangers to capture additional siege engines, and turned his attention to the rest of the Naga defenses. There was a reason that Azshara was evacuating the city, and if they started firing on it it could provide his Lady with the distraction she needed. There was a lot of danger in their plan, many things that could go wrong. But he would do his part.
"Rankin Bass."
Bass approached him, saluting.
"Come with me." Nathanos turned his gaze towards the civilians. "If Azshara actually cares about the fate of her people, let us see what happens when they start dying."
Getting to the siege engine was the easy part. Taking it proved to be more difficult. Bela weaved out of the way of a Naga trident, bashing her shield into another's face. But for every Naga they killed another two seemed to take their place.
She heard someone running behind her, and dropped to her knee before she heard A'sooka's request. The Draenei leapt up, springing off of Bela's shield. She flipped, dropping several grenades into the mass of gathered Naga. A'sooka landed on the siege engine, unslinging a crossbow and taking aim, but the remaining Naga retreated, regrouping at the bottom of the hill. A'sooka lowered her weapon and pulled out a spyglass.
Bela stepped over the gooey remains of a sorceress, joining her companion at the weapon. "We lost two of Blightcaller's rangers. It's just us, A'sooka."
"I think the other teams have succeeded though." She flashed a smile at Bela. "Help me get this thing turned around."
"I don't know how much longer they'll wait before attacking us again," Bela said, moving to one side of the siege weapon and pushing at it. Slowly, it creaked around until the Naga city came into view.
"Probably as soon as I start firing." A'sooka settled into the controls, aiming and adjusting the trajectory. But she hesitated. "Naga have… civilians."
She swiveled in the seat, looking at Bela. "They're still evacuating."
"We have our orders." But Bela felt the same conflict, a twisting in her gut. "But he did not say to aim at the civilians."
A'sooka smiled. "No, he didn't." She adjusted the arc, and then fired. Bela felt her hair stand on end at the build up of magical energy. With a low, thrumming rushing sound, the weapon launched a ball of energy. It arced towards the city, hitting one of the tall spires. The tower shook, debris falling from it.
As Bela predicted, the Naga launched an enraged attack on their position as the other siege weapons began firing on the city. She hefted her shield, remembering a conversation she'd once had with a human Paladin.
"My comrades are my weapons, and I am their shield."
"What was that, Bela?"
Aveline. That had been her name. She had told her her creed, one that had touched Bela in ways she did not fully understand before now. "While I draw breath, they shall not perish. So long as they live, our enemies will fall. I am defender, protector, guardian. I am a Paladin."
The first wave crashed into her, pushing her back several feet before she could bash them back with both shield and sword. She kicked her foot out, the heel of her boot crushing a Naga's chest and sending him flying back into his companions. The magic thrummed behind her as A'sooka launched another salvo.
An attack from the second wave rattled her to her bones. Out of the corner of her eye she could see one of the other siege weapons under assault, and wondered if any of them would make it out of this alive.
She pushed back, inch by inch and step by step, and the Naga fell back again. They parted to allow one of their larger number through, a warrior with a conch shell for a shield and a wicked, jagged axe for a weapon. Bela brought her shield up, and prepared for the worst.
Why do you struggle? What is the point of all of this? All things die ere the end, Belariss. This peace is fleeting. But if you only open your eyes, we can make it last forever.
Bela blinked her eye, shaking her head and repeated, "My comrades are my weapons and I am their shield."
A saying from a human, from someone who'd been her enemy. But A'sooka had been her enemy too and yet no one had ever touched her the way the Rangari had. Peace had been possible. They were all the same. And maybe she...
Shields are for breaking. Let us in…
"I am… I am a…" Her vision was clouded, her head was swimming. She turned, eyes locking on A'sooka, sword shaking in her hand. It felt as though something were ripping through her mind, tearing at it.
"Gul'kafh an'shel. Yoq'al shn ky ywaq nuul!" And she lunged at A'sooka.
No one moved. Even Minuial, staring at Azshara with unadulterated hatred, held her position. Jaina could feel the hatred and grief like a kick to the gut; they were emotions she shared.
Galnir had been her friend. How many more people that she'd come to care about were going to die today? How many already had? She studied the Queen, flexing her fingers and drawing deep, deep into her power reserves, as she'd been doing since the day they'd sailed for Nazjatar.
"An orc?" Azshara said, her tone musical and light. "Sacrificing himself for the human king? My, but times have changed. Such ferocious foes, putting aside their differences in the pursuit of the greater good."
Two of her eyes locked onto Jaina and another onto Sylvanas. "When I heard, I admit I laughed. So absurd. But look at you now. Here on my doorstep, the might of the Horde and the Alliance. So many of your champions, so many of your leaders. Just for me. I'm flattered."
An uneasy feeling ran down Jaina's spine, but she didn't dare let Azshara sense her fear. The Queen had a point, but against a being of such power risks needed to be taken.
"Do you just enjoy hearing yourself speak?" Sylvanas asked, placing her hand on her hip and tilting her head. "Because all I hear is noise."
Azshara ignored her, and Jaina could sense Sylvanas's irritation at that as Azshara turned towards her. "You are almost enough to interest me. Your power is like the ocean, wide and deep." Her eyes, all of them, remained on Jaina's face. She lifted herself to her full height, spreading her arms as if inviting attack. A single mottled tentacle flicked out, curling idly under Jaina's chin. "Set aside this shallow attraction to your Warchief, and we can plumb these depths of yours together."
A black arrow exploded in front of Azshara, magic flaring and sparking around her. Sylvanas was already darting forward, the red in her eyes deeper than Jaina had ever seen it. With a screech, Sylvanas shifted into black mist, hitting Azshara with the full power of her Banshee scream.
It was like a call to arms, as champions up and down the line unleashed a figurative hell onto the Naga Queen. Arrows and bolts of fire and ice blacked out the sky, thunder crackled and boomed, the ground beneath Azshara heaving and writhing from dozens of Shaman.
Lightning struck from the heavens, priest and mage shields rippling and cracking from the impact. The wind picked up, waves of arcane energy blasting at champions and leaders alike. But the line held, and Jaina knew they were being toyed with, because Azshara was alone and unmoving. Her people remained out of range, those who she'd not used as fodder in her display of power.
People that, Jaina realized, were not combatants at all. She narrowed her eyes, flicking her gaze between them and Azshara, as balls of energy started to pound her city.
Thalyssra called out Tyrande's name, energy arcing between her fingertips before she hit the High Priestess with it. Tyrande leapt up, firing a dozen arrows in the space between two of Jaina's heartbeats, each arrow charged with Thalyssra's power.
Azshara swayed. Sylvanas unleashed another cry, and Azshara slithered back a single meter.
Rogues appeared out of the shadows, Yukale's sword swiping low, and Azshara was distracted enough that her barrier wobbled.
Sylvanas rejoined the line, standing with her sisters this time, and Kalira. She drew an arrow, and Jaina could feel the energy that flowed between the Windrunners.
Jaina could sense many were becoming restless, but Azshara kept her people back, so there was no one for the bulk of the champions to fight.
Sylvanas's arrow pierced Azshara's shield, knocking the Queen onto her back and that was Jaina's cue.
Her eyes turned blue, glowing with the ferocity of the sun as she threw her arms out, electric fire coursing through and around her body. Something blotted out the sun, large and filled with enough arcane magic to turn Durotar into a wasteland.
Azshara stood on her tendrils, looking up as the object descended towards her. She laughed in delight, ripping the armor from her chest, baring it for Jaina's strike and holding her arms wide as if to welcome it to her heavy bosom.
Tempest fell from the sky, cracks of violet light slowly spreading across the hull, a spear of ice held by the figure head and pointed right for Azshara's heart. All around Jaina, the champions began to retreat to a safe distance or behind mages held in reserve to provide shielding against this very thing.
But she looked past Azshara, at the empty city, something thrumming beneath it. There were more than civilians who'd evacuated and taken up positions a safe distance away. There were hatchlings. Children.
Evacuated out of a fortified city...
Azshara turned her gaze from what was now a falling comet, and stared directly into Jaina's eyes.
The enemy of her enemy was her friend.
Tyrande cried out in dismay as Tempest swooped over Azshara's head and slammed into the city. There was flash of light as blinding as the noon-day sun. And then there was a sound, a bang like that of a dwarven blunderbuss, followed by a dull roar.
Tears burned down Jaina's cheeks as she lowered her arms. Someone, Tyrande she thought, was shouting her name, but she couldn't focus on that. It hadn't been a mana bomb, but did that really matter?
She felt dirty, standing there, blinking her eyes to clear them of the after image from the explosion.
When Jaina could see again, the city was gone, and rising from the ashes was a behemoth with thousands of glowing red eyes, tendrils thicker than a Sin'dorei spire waving in the air. Black blood oozed from a massive open wound and a huge swath of its skin was charred and burned.
Chuckling, Azshara turned back towards them, expression akin to madness. "Truce?"
"The enemy of my enemy," Sylvanas murmured, rolling one shoulder as she assessed the situation. N'zoth was massive, easily twice the size of Orgrimmar and growing still. And it wasn't alone; crawling out of the rubble were all manner of its minions, and the ground shook as they charged towards the gathered forces.
She looked at Anduin, and nodded at him. He nodded back, and said to Azshara. "We deal with that, and then I suggest we all retreat to lick our wounds."
"It is agreed then." Ignoring her discarded armor, Azshara turned back to her former master and its army, spreading her arms out. She called out, her voice rising in a song that Sylvanas had once heard at sea, and her people responded.
Civilians and children retreated from the battle as Ashara's massive reserves of warriors and magic users swarmed onto the field. And then Azshara split. Into three, then six and twelve and twenty-four and more and more until N'zoth was surrounded by hundreds of images of Azshara.
Before Sylvanas could believe what she was seeing, Jaina copied the ability, a line of Jainas stretching for half a mile in either direction. Almost as if they'd timed it together, the images of both mages began to weave spells. Many targeted the charging army, and many more the Old God, fireballs and lances of ice soaring through the sky towards it.
She lifted her fist, and then dropped it. Horde mages joined the offensive, bursts of arcane accompanied by fire and ice. The green flame of the warlocks soon followed, fire raining from the sky to burn at the enemy.
And then the bombardment from the Naga siege weapons began again.
King Wrynn spun his sword, and with a single, wordless cry, charged. Sylvanas felt something like pride swell inside her as their people followed him.
She lifted her other fist, signalling the archers and hunters, before saying casually. "Windrunners, on me. We clear a patch to N'Zoth." Sylvanas swiveled her head, staring directly at Alleria, who stood nearby with her hand on her head. "Can I trust you, sister?"
Alleria looked at her, the void writhing in her eyes. "I will sooner die than let that thing control me. But it's afraid, Sylvanas. Of you."
Nodding once, Sylvanas looked back to the mountain of eldritch flesh towering over them. Its defenses were beginning to fail from the constant onslaught of two of the most powerful mages to ever live. She looked to Jaina - the real Jaina, her Jaina - and then back to the rest of her family. Her voice was barely audible over the crackle of magic. "If it fears death, then I shall give it death."
While Sylvanas didn't quite have a plan for what she'd do when she reached N'zoth or what exactly she was supposed to do that made it so afraid of her, she needed to reach the abomination first.
The other leaders were keeping the lesser creatures at bay but it was a fight that was turning swiftly against them. Her eyes fell on Kalira, and then to Tyra, and others of the Forsaken. She lifted her eyes skyward.
A being dove from the clouds above, coming to an abrupt stop a few feet above the ground; a Valkyr glowing bright white.
Sylvanas dropped to one knee, slamming her fists into the earth as a black mist rippled around her.
With a shriek that reverberated across the battlefield, Sylvanas unleashed the black mist. It lashed out in every direction and in its wake the dead rose with a clatter of bone and steel and rippling of leather.
Mostly Naga, Azshara's fallen forces now bent to Sylvanas's will, but there were a few dozen among the Horde and Alliance who'd chosen to have their bodies used as a weapon in this time of need, and Sylvanas turned them onto N'zoth's dark army.
The glow around the Valkyr faded, and Sylvanas felt a tightness loosen inside her chest. Six. There were six new Forsaken Champions among the mindless dead. A Kaldorei, Sin'dorei, two Humans, and two Orcs.
Sylvanas inclined her head towards them and her Valkyr. "Fight. For the Forsaken and the Compact."
Without another glance or another thought, she turned and led Kalira and her sisters along an angled attack vector towards the Old God. Behind and around them, the mindless undead at her command ravaged the enemy. With no fear of death or pain, they flung themselves over and over again into the battle.
Eventually Sylvanas passed some sort of invisible line, and a shudder ran up N'zoth, its skin rippling and the wound oozing more quickly. A tendril crashed down towards them. She rolled to the left, narrowly avoiding the crushing blow but finding herself and Alleria separated from the other two.
Wordlessly, Sylvanas continued on, running at breakneck speeds towards the body of the beast. She loathed the thought of trusting Alleria. Vereesa was … easier. Of the two they'd started to find more of a balance. Things were rockier with the eldest Windrunner, and now Sylvanas found herself in the position of having Alleria at her back as she approached N'zoth.
She just hoped that didn't earn her a knife in it, especially if Alleria lost whatever control she still had over her own mind.
A great eye slid open, as large as Grommash Hold, swiveling down to look at them. Sylvanas looked up at it, and the power of its mind felt like she'd been hit by a physical wall.
But she knew this feeling. Sylvanas breathed it in like sampling a fine wine. N'zoth was afraid. Afraid of her, afraid of-
"Death," Alleria hissed. "You represent Death, something it is incapable of understanding. The concept is unknown to it."
"Then let us acquaint it with the idea," Sylvanas said, turning to her sister.
Alleria stood a few feet away, her bow shaking in her hands as the void seemed to writhe inside her. She lifted her head, her eyes like a sky with countless stars within. She straightened, drawing an arrow and aiming it for Sylvanas's chest. "Sylvanas, I need you to trust me. The way you trust Jaina."
She didn't. She couldn't. There were four people Sylvanas trusted, and that trust was thin.
Jaina would trust Alleria, Sylvanas reasoned. Of them all, Alleria understood the void and the Old Gods more than any other, assuming she wasn't controlled by them.
Jaina would trust Alleria.
Sylvanas held her arms out, and nodded.
The arrow struck her in the chest, propelling her back against N'zoth and pinning her to the Old God. Something pulsed inside her, something fragile, and she held fast to it.
When she opened her eyes, she could see her body, spreadeagled and pinned. She looked up towards N'zoth, then back to the raging battle. Jaina had returned to a single form, eyes still the color of lightning as she threw every spell in her arsenal at N'zoth.
Sylvanas's blood oozed into the Old God, and it shuddered, recoiling from it like it was poison. Laughing, Sylvanas shot like black mist straight for N'Zoth's largest eye.
This must be what going mad felt like.
The number of wounded was growing at what seemed like an exponential rate. Anduin had abandoned direct combat in favor of battlefield triage, healing the fallen enough to stabilize them for the healers at the back line. He had to rely on others to protect him; both Baine and Genn kept close by to protect his back, and the champions had started to rotate in and out on the fly. One moment Yukale was helping him with the wounded and the next a druid in a ten-point stag form was being loaded to speed the person he'd stabilized to the healers.
It didn't matter if the wounded was Horde, Alliance, or Naga. Anduin treated them each the same, and he expected the healers to follow suit. As long as they fought the Old God, they were all allies.
And he hoped that maybe healing some of the Naga might pay dividends in the future.
"Have you seen the Warchief?"
The voice of Nathanos Blightcaller brought his attention from the woman he was healing. "She and her sisters charged through the lines about ten minutes ago. I haven't seen them since."
Nathanos looked past him towards N'Zoth, a fleeting expression of dismay and grief on his face. It passed, determination settling onto his face. "We cannot last much longer here, King Wrynn."
"I agree." Sylvanas's 'reinforcements' were all but spent, but they'd bought them time. A fact that Anduin would have to worry about at a later date. He picked up the woman and handed her off to an orc. "We need to regroup; high ground will give us an advantage. Genn! Fall back to the ridge!"
Genn whipped his head around, nodded, then started bellowing orders. It was chaos, but controlled chaos as the combined forces began to pull back. Jaina's head jerked suddenly towards N'zoth and she teleported away.
Anduin had barely started to react to that when a shockwave rippled out from N' , he watched as its skin turned purple, and then pale white like the bloated flesh of a drowned man. It rippled and undulated, accompanied by a high-pitched screeching.
The entire island rocked and shook as one by one, N'zoth's tendrils fell to the ground. Its many eyes glazed over and with a great, trembling sigh, it sagged and went still.
All around them, the Old God's minions also shriveled and died, collapsing or falling apart like crumbling sandcastles, but Anduin was still looking towards N'zoth, and the figures approaching through the dust. Alleria, moving stiffly, her face shadowed and a fathomless darkness in her eyes, and then Kalira and Vereesa, before Jaina emerged, carrying Sylvanas in her arms.
They approached in silence, even Azshara watching with a fascinated curiosity. Anduin felt the tension rising in the air, and kept one eye on the naga Queen as Jaina finally set Sylvanas on the ground.
One moment, there was nothing but the sound of the wind and the faint cry of the wounded. The next, Tyrande was on Azshara, a dagger in her ribcage, and time slowed down.
Anduin's heart thudded in his chest, his eyes locked on the High Priestess. Ten thousand years of rage on her face and Anduin could understand. Azshara had caused the Shattering, had led to untold suffering and many of the problems they now faced today.
Time resumed as Azshara grabbed Tyrande by the throat. Before the High Priestess could draw her glaive a tentacle lashed around her wrist, dragging it lazily away; several others bound her limbs in place as she was lifted to Azshara's eye level.
"Elune-"
"Ah." Azshara's rebuke was a soft coo as she dug her thumb into the hollow of Tyrande's throat. The prayer was cut off with a gagging sound, and Anduin's fingers twitched toward Shalamayne, even as he knew he'd be too slow to be of any use.
The battlefield was perfectly still, a good two-thirds of both Alliance and Horde combatants having flinched toward weapons; Thalyssra was frozen halfway through an arcane blast she knew better than to release, and the watching army bristled with Kaldorei arrows drawn on terrified reflex. None of them dared breathe, let alone move. Even if a wayward strike didn't hit Tyrande, it would place her at risk of … swift retaliation.
Azshara smiled. In complete control, her voice was sugar sweetness. "Oh sweetling, I'm touched. And any other day, I'd make you scream for that. But if I'm to guess, I don't think the First Arcanist wants to share."
"What?" Anduin's head snapped towards Thalyssra. Why he even entertained the thought this time as opposed the the first he wasn't certain, but the look on the First Arcanist's face was a dead giveaway. Which meant Azshara's comments earlier hadn't just been an attempt to get under their skin. Which meant that...
He looked at Sylvanas, who appeared to be having difficulty deciding if she was angry or impressed or just confused. Mostly angry, Anduin decided.
Azshara laughed. "You've kept it secret!" She leaned in, her lips almost touching Tyrande's. "Someone has been very, very naughty."
With an almost lazy motion, Azshara threw Tyrande into Thalyssra. "You two deserve each other. But my doors will be open should you find yourselves in need of a new… ally. Or at the very least, First Arcanist-a firm hand, when that feral thing you've brought into your bed proves too wild for you to handle."
Tyrande pulled herself to her feet, then helped Thalyssra up, before she turned back to Azshara, holding her head high, eyes raging.
The Queen looked around at the others, her eyes meeting Anduin's first, then Sylvanas's. Pulling the knife out of her body, she threw it at Sylvanas's feet. It stuck in the ground. "Would you like a go?"
Sylvanas said nothing, the only thing keeping her upright her grip on Jaina's arm. Anduin would have given a bag of gold to know what was going through her mind just then.
Azshara laughed softly, all of her eyes focused on Jaina now. "You. Oh you, my sweet nectar… not now, no. Not now. But some day, when you are ready, we shall have a little chat."
The ground shook. The crowd reflexively took a step back from Azshara; hands drifted toward weapons again, with the exception of Genn, who just growled, "What now?"
"The island is sinking!" Someone shouted from the ridge.
"The island is sinking," Sylvanas told Genn, helpfully.
"As if my headache couldn't get any worse," Anduin remarked. He nearly lost his balance when the ground shook again, and he could see water beginning to trickle down into the valley they were all standing in.
"Unless you want me to give you gills, I highly suggest you run," Azshara offered, her eyes still locked onto Jaina.
"This is not over," Tyrande breathed. "One day you shall finally pay for all your crimes."
"Mm. Perhaps, sweetling." Azshara turned her back on them, pulling herself along on her tendrils as more water flowed in, rising to Anduin's ankles. "But not today."
"Jaina," Anduin said, not looking away from Azshara. The sound of rushing water filled his ears, and he looked up as a literal river crested the ridge. "Unlike your wife, most of us still need to breathe!"
"Hang on!" Jaina shouted, and the world flashed white.