Chapter 2

"Shan'do! Shan'do, wake!"

Ero'then felt the dreams retreat. He blinked himself into awareness.

A young kaldorei was hovering over him, her eyes wide with concern. Her hands had wrung themselves white, the muscles in her neck were taut and the roofs of her breasts visible in the confines of her wool jerkin.

"Shan—"

He sat up suddenly from his bedroll, forcing her to fall back on her heels. "Sel'uen," he grunted, then coughed violently. "What are you doing?"

"Shan'do…" He watched her hesitate, then say, "I am sorry. You have slept long."

He nodded slowly, buying time for a response as he took in the enclosed space. He and Sel'uen were in his tent, one of the few the night elves had brought along with them for the expedition.

The expedition. What expedition? It was taking longer than usual for the last vestiges of the Dream to wear off. Anxiety ran thick beneath his skin.

"Is it… morning?" he asked.

For some reason, Sel'uen wouldn't meet his eyes. "I…" she stuttered over her words. Was she not capable of finishing a sentence? "I don't know… There's no way to tell here."

That was what fully awoke all of his centuries-honed senses. Around him the tent was snapping, blown about by a rapid and incessant wind, kept down only by the pegs rooted deeply in the earth.

The violet earth, he realized, and consequently understood he had re-realized every time he had woken in this gods-forsaken place. The air was heavy like an oven, and he realized his accountramenss were soaked in sweat. He was suddenly and acutely aware of his dehydration.

Outside, the wind's howling mimicked a dying beast.

"The goblin is seeking to backtrack from our agreement," Sel'uen said, clutching her arm but foregoing the heavy cloak attached at her back, as if unsure whether she was freezing from the wind or baking from the heat.

He nodded curtly and tore off his vest. Sel'uen hesitated, turning away. Eyes down, she added, "He is waiting for us in the town, Shan'do."

"Bring him to me."

Again Sel'uen paused, glancing up. "But—"

"Do not question." His voice cracked like a whip. The young kaldorei's eyes shot back to the earth. "Every second we wait the quel'dorei grow farther from us. We haven't chased them across this forsaken world to stop now, have we? Convince the coward to walk the whole hundred paces."

Even before he was finished speaking Sel'uen was stammering, "Yes Shan'do." She bowed and fled the tent, leaving the flap undone. It flayed back and forth with her passing, as if mocking him.

Sighing, he crossed the distance and snapped shut the flap. But before he buttoned it, the heavens caught his eye.

Debris littered the sky. Huge, floating chunks of dried-up earth floated aimlessly, lost in the air like fish trapped in a bowl. Beyond those, a thick and stormy fog of twisting purple obscured whatever might have been in the sky for as far as he could see. The wind, too, was thick and it was difficult to see by land for long distances. What he could see was a lumpy landscape, shaped like the interconnected stools of some diseased god.

The further he looked, the more of the landscape was hidden from him until abruptly a deeply violet-hued wall of air - darker than anything else in sight - rose. It blocked out the horizon. Within it, a violent nexus of air, energy and debris shuddered in a whirlwind tall and wide as a world tree.

He observed the titanic storm for a moment longer, then shut the flap.