CHAPTER 8 Part I

Malfurion hadn't come. Tyrande was not going to escape. Now she spent almost all of her time in the Chamber of the Eye. Only a small part of her continued to exist in the sphere within the Nether, or at least, what was left of the sphere. Illidan was still there, pushing the fractured and fel infested thing away from the portal every chance he had, but he was also here too, talking to her, trying to keep her from succumbing to the seduction of Sargeras's words.

But when he wasn't here—suppressing his corrupted self—she would weaken. Illidan's corrupted self was so powerful, so possessive, so enigmatic, she couldn't help but feel drawn to him. He was a confusing cross between the Illidan she once knew and loved, and the dark one she didn't. As his tendrils seethed around her, caressing her, he told her of the things to come, of their destiny as immortal beings, cleansing every world in the Twisting Nether with fire. He encouraged her to channel Elune's Light into her body, corrupted by Gul'dan's magic, so she could become a worthy consort to the greatest Titan of all. He promised to love and cherish her. He promised to always fight by her side, unlike—he reminded her—Malfurion who had so often left her to fight her battles alone.

He asked her who had rescued her from the Scourge, while replaying the memory of Illidan's arrival into her mind, letting her watch him storm the camp, and open a way out for her. His golden tendrils stroked her face as he told her he was the one who loved her, not the hybrid thing she was bound to, who always ran away to protect his own interests. If Malfurion loved her so much, where was he now? He had had eleven days to come for her, but he had done nothing, because he was a coward. But Illidan, the one who truly loved her, would have saved her.

She lifted her head and met the burning eyes of the creature in front of her, enough of her spirit had been drained into her body, corrupted, that she could finally move a little. She smiled, cold.

Yes. Illidan loves me, she answered. But Malfurion loves me too, in a way you could never comprehend.

He laughed, amused. You will forget him and his paltry love. Once you have known the love of a Titan, you will never think of it again. And I will be kind, I will even allow you to see the Illidan I know you still love, so your heart will betray you into believing it is he you are giving yourself to, and not me.

She closed her eyes. It was so hard to think straight when he talked to her. She realised she wanted what Sargeras was offering, her corrupted soul longed for it even. What would it be like to be the consort of a titan? The power she would wield would be enormous. Everything about her life in Azeroth paled in comparison. And she would have Illidan, she would not be alone. She would still have him. She felt his tendrils tightening around her, drawing her closer to him, possessive.

Yes, he whispered, reading her thoughts. Stop fighting, and come to me. Be my beloved. For eternity.

Krasus's Landing bustled with activity, hundreds of Alliance and Horde airships hovered outside Dalaran in long queues, waiting patiently, their massive propellers rotating, filling the air with a powerful, rhythmic thrum. Under Malfurion's feral paws, the surface of the Landing vibrated. He had been at the Landing since dawn, watching the preparations of both factions led by Anduin and Sylvanas. They stood together in full view of their forces with their commanders, presenting a united front.

Malfurion paced, impatient, glancing for the thousandth time at the distant blackened island, longing for the assault to begin on the Broken Shore so Khadgar's group could journey to Hope's End, and he to Tyrande.

A horn bellowed, low and deep, signalling the airship parked at the Landing's imminent departure. Crewmen on board pulled back the walkway connecting the hovering Alliance ship to the Landing. Moments later the ship peeled away, its propellers speeding up, thundering, deafening, to take its holding position along with the others over the coast of Azsuna. Another airship came to take its place, this time one from Orgrimmar. A dozen portals opened, orcs, blood elves, undead, goblins, trolls and tauren poured out, hastening to organise behind their captains.

Malfurion had to admit as he watched the troops board, orderly and disciplined, the operation was flawless. Once Anduin and Sylvanas had put their heads together with Khadgar, they had become unstoppable. He thought of Jaina and what she would think if she could see how much things had changed between the Horde and Alliance since suffering the losses of their last assault. He shook his head. No, it would be better if she did not see this. She could cause a lot of trouble when she wanted to. He was glad she had gone away. He hoped she would stay away for a long time, too. Seeing how much could be accomplished when the factions worked together moved him in a way he couldn't explain, but whatever it was, it meant much to him to finally see something he never thought he would see. He was certain Varian would be proud of his son if he could see him now, standing over a command table and conferring, serious, with the Warchief of the Horde, nodding with her as they made their last minute decisions.

The ships continued to move up one at a time, to take on board the thousands of troops being portalled to the Landing by the Kirin Tor mages from all across Azeroth. Joining the Alliance and Horde forces were Valarjar warriors and Highmountain Tauren, even an impressive contingent of Nightborne rebels and Nightfallen had arrived, to provide medical support behind the lines with their tinctures and healing remedies. Malfurion was ashamed none of the Dreamweavers had come to aid in the fight, not even to provide healing, but they believed their fight against the Nightmare to be the most urgent. They had sent an emissary to apologise, but a part of him resented their lack of support. They could have spared at least a dozen to help Azeroth.

He wondered if perhaps this feeling he felt was similar to how Tyrande had felt when he had spent all his time in the Emerald Dream. He shook his head, why had she stayed with him? He had neglected her so much. He looked once more at the far side of the towering Tomb of Sargeras, at the place they would soon travel to, the island called Hope's End. Once he got her back, he would never neglect her again. He had learned from his mistakes, and wouldn't make them again.

There was still hours to go before the assault would begin. Even so Malfurion intended to stay and watch, willing them to hurry. For every airship that departed, he was that much closer to reaching Tyrande. He could do nothing else, and somehow watching them prepare, helped.

Tyrande?

Illidan? Tyrande asked, her heart blossoming with hope.

The sphere is almost completely destroyed, it will not be long before Gul'dan has the last of your spirit, and takes what is left of Elune's Light. And then . . . his voice trailed off. She looked up at the creature before her, Illidan the demon hunter, the half-finished avatar for Sargeras. The creature's eyes still blazed with fiery light, but in them she could see Illidan looking back at her, the Illidan of the Nether who had helped her to resist the words of Sargeras; resisting the words himself, as he fought against his own corrupted soul.

And then, he will finish what he started with you, Tyrande finished, bleak.

Yes.

For a long time Tyrande said nothing. They had lost. Eleven days. She had fought Gul'dan for eleven days. She tried to connect with what little was left of her spirit in the Nether, but it was so faint, it was no more than a whisper. Yet whatever was left of her seemed to sustain her from crossing the line into the darkness. What was it she had learned long ago when she was a novice in the Temple of the Moon? Ah yes, it only takes a tiny amount of light to overcome the darkness. It seemed to be true. So long as she could keep that fragment of her spirit intact, she would be able to resist. But how much time did she have left before she became something else? Someone else? Once more thoughts of giving up and succumbing to Sargeras began to take root. She was so tired. He was so powerful, even Elune, while bound to Tyrande was unable to protect Herself. If a Goddess could not stand against him, how could Tyrande ever hope to?

Tyrande. Don't. Don't think those things. I can hear your thoughts, you know I can. When you think like that you make it harder for me to resist. We must be strong together. We still have time. Until it is over, we still have time.

His tendrils wrapped around her, tender, mournful. He knew they were finished, that they stood on the threshold of their terrible destiny, but even so, he refused to be broken. She admired him, his power, his will, his strength. She had always thought those characteristics were faults in him, now she knew better. They were what had called her heart to his the first time, despite frightening her. Once she knew how deep his passions burned; how complicated and dangerous he could be, she had run away from him, overwhelmed.

It was her fault, she had driven him to what he became by rejecting him after he bared his heart and soul to her, further twisting the dagger by choosing his brother. She could have chosen anyone, but she had picked Malfurion, because he was there, because he was Illidan's brother. Because by betraying Illidan, she believed it would make his feelings for her end.

And now, more than ten thousand years later, Illidan's love still remained the same. To the bitter end he stayed with her, protecting her, fighting for her, even when his own burdens must be staggering. She knew he could hear her thoughts; could sense it in his silence and stillness, knew he was hanging on to her every thought.

Illidan . . .forgive me. All this time I have accused Malfurion of being a coward for hiding in the Emerald Dream, but I was also a coward. I used your brother to hide myself from you. To hide from my own heart. I have wronged you so much. Everything you did, you did because of what I did to you.

Some, not all, Illidan answered. I am far from perfect, but everything I did, I did because I wanted to end the Burning Legion. Losing you only made me reckless. I didn't care anymore who I hurt or what I had to do, nothing else mattered but to stop them. I only wanted—

The sensation of a thousand knives sliced through Tyrande as the golden tendrils surrounding her ripped away, then snapped back into place. She screamed, hearing her voice for the first time since she left Azeroth. Shuddering, she looked back at Illidan. He was gone, replaced by his other self, watching her, his eyes smouldering, furious.

"That's better," Gul'dan said, his voice crackling with sadistic pleasure. "If you want to talk to Illidan, then you will talk to the one that belongs to me. You will—" Heavy footsteps approached. Tyrande heard the soft clacking of Gul'dan's necklace of skulls as he turned, slow. "What is it?"

The deep voice of an Eredar addressed Gul'dan. "Master, the armies of Azeroth have now completed their muster. Just over a thousand airships are moving toward the southern shoreline."

Gul'dan chuckled, pleased. "Fools. They are too late, even with ten thousand ships they will not be able to stop our Lord's arrival. Let them come. Send everything we have to meet them. Keep them busy. I do not wish to be disturbed"

"Shall I leave the contingent stationed on Hope's End?"

Again the chuckle, filled with malevolence. "No, let them join the fight. I wouldn't want them to miss it when I arrive with the Dark Lord and his Lady."

Tyrande felt something touch her back between her shoulder blades. It traced the path of her spine down to her hips. Tyrande shuddered as she realised it was Gul'dan's staff. A little fel energy left his staff and trickled into her tailbone, creeping up into her torso.

"Tyrande has put up a good fight, but it is over. She has lost and she knows it. As soon as she breaks, Illidan will follow, she is all he has left to fight for. It has been entertaining to watch their struggle, like flies caught in honey."

Tyrande felt a tear slip free. They were coming, a thousand airships full of them. Malfurion had rallied all of Azeroth, despite the factions being almost at war with each other. He had done the impossible, and he was going to be too late.

"As you command," the Eredar murmured. He turned and left. Gul'dan waited until the sound of the demon's hooves faded away before moving into Tyrande's view. He smiled, slow.

"It's time to finish this."

He pointed his staff at her, using her as a conduit to pull Elune's Light from the sphere. Held fast in the creature's fiery tethers, Tyrande screamed as the Light burned into her; corrupted, filthy, dark, enticing.

She could feel herself beginning to transform. Could hear Gul'dan's murmurs, encouraging her. The creature holding her gazed down at her, hungry, aroused. Deep in the throes of her agony, she snapped back to herself in the tattered sphere, in time to see Illidan breaking his way into the ruined thing and take what was left of her into his arms.

"Hold on my love, just a little longer. They are coming. Hold on."

He pressed his back against the jagged edges of the sphere, diverting Elune's tainted Light into him, bellowing as it seared into him, corrupting him. His eyes burned bright, but he didn't let her go. Tyrande clung to him, weeping, watching horrified as the Light of Elune drained into Illidan. Gul'dan increased the intensity, and Illidan roared, the Light pouring into him, corrupted. She could feel his muscles twitching, straining against the darkness entering him. The Light flickered, weakening. It pulsed as Gul'dan demanded more. It fell to a trickle, and finally extinguished.

Tyrande felt darkness spreading through her soul as Elune's presence faded away, the Goddess's existence becoming nothing more than a memory.

The sphere disintegrated. Illidan grunted, his muscles straining, as he fought the fel corruption within him. She feared he would let her go, but he didn't. He held on to her, despite his suffering, and carried her with him through the silent, vast reaches of the Nether.

The tethers came, hundreds of them, furious, and latched onto them, tearing at them. Still Illidan held her. The tethers tugged, and darkness called to her. Despite his cries of protest, she let go of him and let the tethers pull the last of her spirit into the Chamber of the Eye. Elune was dead. Gul'dan had destroyed the Goddess. He would pay.

She opened her eyes, and saw the creature looking down at her, watching her, intent. She smiled, her heart filled with hate. No more would she be a passive player in Gul'dan's sick game. She screamed, and broke free of his fiery grasp. A fel tether snapped around her neck, four more took hold of her wrists and ankles. She slammed against the wall opposite the creature, spread-eagled.

Beneath her, Gul'dan held up his staff, crackling with energy, using it to hold her in place until the tethers finished their work. Sweat beaded his brow. He wasn't chuckling anymore.

"Enough!" he shouted. "It is past time to bring the Master to Azeroth. I will finish with you later, once Illidan is out of the way."

He turned to the creature, and lifted his staff once more. Tethers snaked out of it into the portal, returning, their maws glowing with the last pieces of Illidan's soul, already corrupted. They rammed into the creature, hundreds of them. It threw back its head and roared, writhing with agony and ecstasy. The Chamber turned cold. Darkness encroached. Illidan transformed, the demon hunter's body morphing into a dread lord's. Its eyes locked on hers, possessive. She felt her flesh crawl. Nothing of Illidan was left in that thing. The last hope within Tyrande's breast died. Sargeras was coming. Azeroth was lost.