Smoke drifted through the silent trees, the only light in the darkness the flickering firelight and sliver of the moon hanging low over Kaldrassil. The smoke was thick and heavy, an acrid smell that was as familiar as it was terrifying and accompanied by a distant crackling that sent sweat down Yukale's spine as she ran.

She stuck to the shadows, a precious package clasped tightly in her arms. Around her, there were the whispers of hundreds of feet and paws and hooves as others ferried their own packages, and over that and over the sound of the crackling fire, steel clashed against steel. It was the fiercest fighting she'd seen in years and while part of her itched to stay, she had something much more important to do.

Air displaced nearby and an axe nearly removed her head as she ducked out of the way at the last moment. A naga warrior surged forward with a watery battle cry. Yukale tossed her package into the air, twirling around on her heel and deflecting his attack with one of her daggers. In the same smooth movement she kicked away from him, catching her package before sprinting away as fast as her legs could carry her.

The package giggled.

"Shh!"

Ahead of her, a stag whistled and she leapt forward, grasping and holding on as it picked up speed. Yukale carefully tied the child to the druid before letting go. She hit the ground and rolled it until she skidded to a stop. Then picking herself up, she started to jog back towards Moonshadow.

The fires at least hadn't spread too far; a lot of work had gone into making the tree magically fire resistant but it wasn't fire proof. Given sufficient time and motivation someone could probably burn it down and Yukale still had nightmares about that possibility.

Of more pressing concern was the battle waging within the city and the emergency evacuation that the battle was ensuring. Yukale hadn't intended to be on Kaldrassil for more than a few hours tonight; but that was exactly when the Naga had attacked, and the attack had been overwhelming; Nearly a hundred Naga had scaled the trunk and come in from the northwest side of Moonshadow, and hundreds more had been teleported in despite the barriers designed to prevent such a thing.

There were few mages powerful enough to just bring down an entire World Tree's magical defenses, let alone defenses installed by First Arcanist Thalyssra. And Jaina was as unlikely voluntarily do so as Thalyssra herself. Either Azshara herself had done it, or there had been inside help. Either possibility gave Yukale chills.

She paused a moment, before deciding that one more rogue wasn't going to make too much of a difference in either the battle or the evacuation. But one rogue might be able to collect information that would be invaluable in defending the World Tree, and they needed to know the truth.

While there were other cities Yukale knew better, she still knew Moonshadow well, avoiding the fighting by darting through groves of trees and lush alleys. On top of a roof overlooking the Temple, Yukale tried to get an accurate count of the Naga forces. Not an easy task, with the fighting and the naga flowing through the streets like many rivers. To make matters worse, they'd set up portals through which streamed countless more of their forces. Any who didn't surrender or flee were quickly overwhelmed by the surprise attack and sheer numbers and many of those were put to the sword.

Yukale tried to do the math; she'd gotten one radio report of Naga in Stormwind before they'd attacked Kaldrassil and unless one of these attacks was a feint, Azshara had a much larger army than anyone thought possible.

Judging from the scale of this attack, Stormwind had to be the feint. Yukale shifted on her feet, crouching low as she studied the portals. She wasn't a mage, but she had a few ideas on how to take them out...

Azshara had forced Tyrande to watch; but even if she hadn't, Tyrande would not have looked away from the destruction of her people and her city. They deserved to have her bear witness, even if they couldn't know that she was. They deserved that respect, and they deserved the compassion of her breaking heart.

She was right in the middle of the action, Azshara's illusion spell putting her right into the middle of the fighting. Her eyes and throat burned from the smoke, and the sounds of her people dying too loud in her ears. Dark violet blood stained the streets and the temples, the markets and the homes.

But they fought. Goddess did they fight. Tooth and nail and claw, feral and vicious; and for every inch of Kaldrassil the Naga took they paid for it in blood and bone and sinew. One priestess tore a Naga's throat out with her teeth, and clawed at the next as though she were a Nightsaber in Kaldorei form, before an arrow struck her in the shoulder. She barely wavered, picking up a fallen trident and attacking in a blind rage. Another arrow slowed her down as she impaled an unfortunate Naga sorceress. The priestess staggered up the street, eyes flashing. Three more arrows to her chest, a third to her back.

And still she fought.

Her captors focused on such displays as much as Tyrande did. She raged with her people, and grieved with them, and if, by chance, she might have noticed the civilians fleeing or children whisked away by clever druids and quick rogues, she kept her attention from them so as to keep Azshara from noticing as well.

This was her city, her forest, her tree. None knew it as well as she and her people and every last one would fight to the death. A distant, bitter memory came with the scent of smoke; but for a twist of fate, the Horde would have faced this same battle. Tyrande allowed herself a little satisfaction at the thought.

The priestess from earlier had finally collapsed, her robes now drenched with her blood. A Naga lifted his spear, and she gazed definiantly up at him. "Zin-Tyrand."

The spear came down just as the back of a hand struck Tyrande. She spat out blood and grinned viciously at her former acolyte, but she said nothing; nothing could sting more than witnessing the Kaldorei venerate Tyrande instead of Azshara.

Looking down at Tyrande with barely concealed hatred, Alyssa turned away and poke into a magical relay. "Do not damage the temple. We need it. I need it, to dedicate it to our Queen. She will be very displeased were it to fall. The rest of the city can be leveled for all I care. But the temple must stand."

Visions of snapping Alyssa's neck swam in Tyrande's mind, taking the edge off of an anger that had been building with every Kaldorei defender that fell. No, better yet, she'd carve each of their names into that traitor's face so that she would be forced to stare at them every time she looked in a mirror.

In the magically induced vision, roads buckled and the ground shook as a tall building suddenly collapsed onto a battalion of Naga, disrupting the portals. Tyrande caught a glimpse of her people as they fled the scene and smiled triumphantly. "You may take Kaldrassil, witch. But you will never hold her."

She felt a pinch in the back of her mind, and all went blank.

To Aveline Dawnguard, Kaldrassil was a second home and would have been that way even if she hadn't been married to the Archdruid. For twenty-five years she and Manadh had traveled together and seen more heartbreak and devastation than could be counted. She'd lost every home she'd had; She would not let this home fall, too.

Fingering the stylized nightsaber patch on her shoulder, she leaned against a tree, waiting and listening. As a Paladin, stealth wasn't exactly her forte; there was no way for her to hide and if she was honest, she wasn't inclined to. She'd much rather march into battle and face the enemy for good or ill. And maybe she'd spent too much time talking with Orcs, but it felt right. The Light was a tool, and she liked to wield it like a hammer and shield.

Pushing off from the tree, she started to walk, drawing her sword and hefting her shield as she moved. Sunlight filtered through the treetops, scattering golden light across her dark skin and dull, battleworn red armor. She kept up a quick pace until she was in a large clearing. Directly across from her was a Naga strike force. Aveline casually counted sixteen Naga and she smiled as she raised her shield and tapped it with her sword. "The odds are a little unfair, but maybe you can take me."

The patrol rushed into the clearing, the first reaching her in moments just in time for Aveline to smash her face in with her shield. As rest of the patrol filled the clearing, Druids dropped from above like jaguars and rogues stepped out of the shadows to slit throats and stab backs. Aveline kept her shield up, but watched in pride as her adopted Kul Tiran daughter roared in bear form and tore a Naga Sorceress apart.

A nightsaber shifted into humanoid form next to her. "You make attractive bait."

Aveline inclined her head to her wife, giving the Archdruid a pleasant smile, "They'll catch on, eventually. Look at Belinda go."

A scream ripped through the forest, accompanied by a wet crunching sound. The ground exploded beneath them as dozens of Naga emerged from hiding. A trap within a trap.

Acting on instinct, Aveline shoved Manadh back. "Go!"

"I'm not-" Manadh barely had a chance to object before Aveline had thrown her onto the back of their daughter.

"You're the Archdruid and Tyrande is missing. You can't die." The last thing Aveline saw of her wife as Belinda bore her away with other retreating forces was her casting a spell.

Thorns wound their way around Aveline's armor and shield. She turned her attention to the chaos. Manadh and Belinda had escaped and while she had no intention of dying, she'd see the rest of them to safety for as long as she could still stand.

She waded into combat, decapitating a Naga and bashing several more with her shield. "Fall back!"

Druids picked up Rogues and bolted for safety, though in one case the rogue was carrying a druid in her arms. But a few remained behind, covering the retreat. Most of them would live to fight another day.

One druid, an old looking bear with ragged fur and ancient wisdom in his eyes, looked at her, before putting himself between her and the battle. Aveline backed away, understanding.

Someone had to protect the Archdruid. Aveline retreated, slinging her shield onto her back and willing the light to put wings on her feet. But something nagged at her as she fled into the forest; where was Whisperwind? And for that matter, where was Stormrage?

While the Naga portals wouldn't be down forever, they'd at least bought enough time for the bulk of the Kaldorei resistance to flee into the forests of Kaldrassil. While they attempted to regroup, Yukale led a small team of volunteers from the Vanguard back the way they'd come, both obscuring their trail and laying traps.

Mostly simple snares and pits, though some of the Vanguard were too clever by half; explosives and acid, even a series of arcane bombs designed to only react to Naga.

Heavy boots heralded the arrival of someone who wasn't a Naga, though Yukale still drew her weapons on a just in case basis. But she recognized Dawnguard. "Oh good you're alive. My sister would have Sylvanas raise you just so she could kill you again."

"I doubt they're that far behind me, but some of the others bought us time. What's the plan?"

Yukale looked around and gave a signal, "We let them trip the traps, then finish off the rest. Come here."

As soon as Aveline was in range, the world became foggy and grey. Yukale grinned at her. "Remember reckoning bombs?"

Aveline's smile in response was positively delightful, and Yukale poisoned her blades while they waited.

It wasn't all that long before the first trap caught a Naga in a snare. And then another, and then there were explosions and the crackle of arcane magic.

But not even Yukale expected how bright the light from Aveline would be when she unleashed the stored up power. It blinded and burned the Naga that weren't immediately destroyed, and when Yukale's vision returned to normal the survivors were either dangling from trees, or had retreated.

"What about them?" Someone asked. "We can't leave them like that, can we?"

"We could keep them for a prisoner exchange," Aveline said. A part of her almost believed such a thing might be possible. "But that might be complicated. What would Tyrande do?"

Unhappily, Yukale shook her head. She already knew what Tyrande would do. She also knew what her sister would order as Archdruid, and there was precious little that she could think of as an alternative.

Yukale sheathed her swords and drew a knife. "Slit their throats."

Sylvanas stepped through a portal and there were more undead than she had seen in one place since the Third War. Thousands of them, maybe ten times as many as there were Forsaken. And yet every last one of them looked at Jaina the same way the Forsaken looked at Sylvanas.

As their savior.

Sylvanas Windrunner did not get emotional. She did not choke up, she did not cry, she did not feel things as deeply or keenly as the living. But she felt a keen sense of pride in her wife, among a dozen other feelings that clogged up her insides as she stared at the Scourge. No.

Not the Scourge.

Simply the newest members of the Forsaken.

Once, years ago, Jaina had given Sylvanas hope that her people would not go extinct. And today she'd done it again. And for once Sylvanas had no comment; she could only touch on Jaina's mind three simple words. Jaina turned and smiled at her, the words echoing back through Sylvanas's mind.

I love you.

"What did you do?" Sylvanas asked, finally, her eyes moving from the Scourge, to an understandably shaken Anduin, and then to Jaina.

"I called to them." Jaina's voice echoed through the cobblestone streets, somewhat dulled by the press of bodies. "I found the spark of their souls and called to them." She smiled at Sylvanas, taking a step as if she wanted to be closer, before remembering where they were.

"I remember how that felt," Sylvanas said. "The rage I felt. I half did it out of spite, I think."

"There must always be a Lich King," Jaina said mockingly. Perhaps there'd been some spite in her actions, too. She held her arms out. "But we can have the rest of this conversation later."

A portal wobbled to life in front of her, flickering and faint before winking out. She tried again, narrowing her eyes as she poured considerable power into it. "Fuck me, the wards are down but it's getting misdirected."

"Azshara?"

"It has to be."

"Can you punch through it?"

Jaina nodded, "But that would take too long, and if I did it wrong, well, do you want to end up fused to a Night Elf?"

She turned around, taking in their gathered forces, then whirled back to Sylvanas. "Gilneas. Hold on to your ass, I'm going to port us all to Gilneas."

Sylvanas heard Anduin's confused shout, and then the arcane energy engulfed them all.

On any other day, Valtrois would have enjoyed the flight. The wind in her hair, the peace and quiet of flying thousands of feet in the air with only the wind and the sound of her lover's wings. Stellagosa was at her most beautiful like this, rippling muscle and sinew, eyes bright with excitement. But even Valtrois could be serious when the situation warranted it and Thalyssra wasn't around to be kept on her toes. That woman needed so much babysitting, honestly.

Valtrois leaned over and stroked Stella's neck. "We're almost there, slow down, darling."

Stella slowed her flight as Valtrois conjured a spyglass. She peered through it, then lowered it, raising both of her eyebrows before peering through it again. "Well that shall be a problem."

"What is it?"

"Mm." Valtrois cast a spell allowing Stellagosa to see great distances. The dragon's low rumbly curse reverberated through Valtrois's body and Valtrois replied, "Indeed."

Smoke curled up from Moonshadow, on Kaldrassil's southern branches and surrounding the World Tree and resting on the roots were hundreds of Naga. Valtrois could make out an absurdly large number of hulking brutes and sea giants as well, and gigantic dark shadows patrolled the water outside the shallows. Kaldrassil had fallen.

"We need to go higher," Valtrois said. "And bring us in on the western side."

"You won't be able to breathe."

"Leave that to me, darling. Higher!"

Stella banked, catching an updraft that carried them another thousand feet, to where the air was dangerously thin for mortals. Valtrois locked herself in much more tightly, casting a spell that made it only marginally easier to breathe. It was really how cold it was that was getting to her. She looked down at her fingers, which were starting to turn a shade of blue that was decidedly not natural for the Shal'dorei.

And then the dragon dove, tucking her wings back for a quick, dangerous descent in an effort to avoid detection. As they plummeted towards Kaldrassil, Valtrois disabled every spell she had running. No sense in the Naga detecting her magic before she was ready to be revealed, and they were low enough again she could breathe naturally.

Deftly weaving her way through the trees, Stellagosa alighted beneath a large oak, just north and west of Moonshadow. She quickly shifted, turning on Valtrois and taking her hands in her warm ones. "Fool."

"Says the one who loves me," Valtrois retorted. But she smiled, and let Stella fuss for a minute or two. Once she appeared satisfied, Valtrois pulled her staff off of her back and led the way towards the city.

Closer now, she could tell most of the fires were out, the smoke the only remnant visible from the air. Moonshadow itself had seen better days; the new and pristine marble had been blackened by soot and blood, and many buildings were badly damaged.

Valtrois spotted a large gathering and tucked herself in between two trees, Stellagosa close against her back. "Do you feel that? Powerful magic."

And then, before their eyes, Queen Azshara teleported in, flanked on one side by Tyrande's favorite acolyte. In front of them knelt Tyrande, bound in more chains than was reasonable but less chains than was probably safe.

Stella gripped Valtrois shoulder. "Do not even think about it."

Valtrois relaxed, lifting her hand to tap her finger at her lower lip. What to do, what to do… She closed her eyes as wards suddenly snapped into place around the tree.

Oh. So much for using portals to ferry supplies and soldiers then. She reached into her robe, pulling out a crystal decanter. She took a sip from the bottle and then offered it to Stellagosa. "This just got more complicated."

"We should meet up with the resistance."

Valtrois perked up at that. "Yes! Lets! It looks like we get to repay a few favors. Come, darling. We can still save the day in time for tea."

Stella rolled her eyes."Somehow I doubt it will be that simple."

"Shh. Let a woman dream." Valtrois placed a finger over Stella's lips.

She paused, glancing back just in time to make very brief eye contact with Tyrande. She placed a finger over her own lips, then slipped away from the scene of Azshara Triumphant.

After all, the funny thing about victory was how easily it could slip through one's grasp.