Disclaimer: I own Blizzard.
...
Didn't see that one coming, did you, eh? No, I don't really own it. Did you honestly believe me?
Nagrand is my favorite zone in Outland. If you've got a flying mount, fly straight upwards from the Nesingwary Expedition and you'll find my favorite little floaty islands.
Redemption: Chapter 5
*****
Hemet Nesingwary was deeply saddened to see his favorite merchant leave. He insisted on giving him a finely crafted staff, explaining with a sad smile that it was really better suited to a druid, but surely the young mage could put it to use?
They shook hands, promising to keep in touch if at all possible, then parted ways.
Illidan kicked a stone in the path. He was going blind, his demon eyes losing their sight as his power waned. At least he no longer craved magic. Maybe the less he used it, the less he needed it.
He reached out to the earth. Surely it could guide him home?
But the earth told him no, he had one last thing to do before he could go. And he followed its promptings. What choice did he have?
*****
The wolf stumbled over a ditch, losing precious space between himself and the demon. Aila skidded to a halt, shifting into her elf body and standing over her friend.
"Run, Brody."
He didn't move.
"I said run! I'm buying you time, don't waste it!" She kicked him into motion, staring after her briefly as her totems appeared, then drawing her sword and shield. The spirits swirled around her, embraced her, creating a mad whirlwind of power.
She would not go down easily.
Illidan sensed the vast vortex of energy before him, asking the earth what it brought him here to do.
And then he felt it. That savory taste of power he'd once known flooded his senses even as it battled with a demon. His heart clenched. Aila, that crazy little shaman, was fighting Durn the Hungerer.
Something grew within him, something strange -- and as he felt her falter, felt Durn rip into her, the full force of Nature's wrath exploded from his hands, tearing apart the foul demon once and for all.
And she lay motionless, sprawled out on the blood-soaked grass.
He tried to heal her, he tried, but the blood flowed too quickly, he couldn't make it stop, he needed help -- and he cried out to the wild, to Nature, to the earth.
"Bring me to Tyrande!"
*****
Rarely had the priestess felt the full force of Nature and all its fury. So as a storm of power brewed in the Temple of the Moon, she prayed to Elune for safety and wisdom. She was sure she would need it.
And then the storm vanished.
"Tyrande! Tyrande Whisperwind!"
The color drained from her face.
"Illidan Stormrage!" She jumped from her balcony. "Are you really so foolish as to show --"
Nothing could have prepared her for this sight. Illidan knelt before her in the withered body of a night elf as he placed a bloody, mangled girl at her feet, tears running down his cheeks.
"Save her, please," he cried, "I can't heal her fast enough. Do what you will with me, but take care of her first."
He stepped back and encased himself in ice, one of the few spells he could still perform, trying to prove to her that he would do nothing but sit and remain harmless. The priestess set to work, mending torn flesh and broken bones with expert ease. Illidan monitored the flow of power, no longer able to see at all.
"Is she healed?" he asked as the energies waned.
"Can't you see?" Tyrande snapped. She wanted to smack herself in the head. This man brought out the worst in her.
"I'm blind, Tyrande."
He heard her sharp intake of breath. Yes, the last of his demonic strength had gone, no longer powering his eyesight. He began his apology for all his foolishness, but stopped as a young night elf skidded into the temple, alarm and elation thick in the air.
"Lady Tyrande! Malfurion has awakened!"
*****
Aila opened her eyes in the middle of an empty temple. She had been to Darnassus once before and fortunately knew how to escape. She shouldn't be here, she should be in Garadar, finding Brody and telling him that she was alive.
She was alive! The realization finally hit her. She should be dead. Sure, she had put up quite a fight against the demon, but he had overpowered her in the end. How did she get to Darnassus?
The spirits whispered excitedly. Their language was complex and confusing, but one word stuck out to her: Illidan. And as she embraced that word, the rest of the story came into focus -- that Illidan had slain the demon with a sharp blast of druidic energy, and that the earth itself had teleported them here, to Darnassus, to Tyrande.
And Malfurion had awakened.
As lovely a thought as all this was, she really didn't want to stick around for either the celebration or the political infighting. From what she'd heard, she doubted the current archdruid would want to hand power back to Malfurion.
The trip back to Garadar was quick and uneventful. Brody nearly fainted when he saw her, then burst into joyful tears, hugging her close. He cried apology after apology, certain that she had been killed, never able to forgive himself. And she pulled him into a private room to tell him the story of how Illidan had saved her once more.
"And," she added with a sly smile, "Malfurion is awake. Now if I were you, I wouldn't miss the part in the Cenarion Refuge for the world, especially not if I was trying to win the affections of a certain druid."
The next day, they left Garadar for the Zangarmarsh, and Brody could only wonder at the change his spiritual sister had undergone. She was assured, powerful, no longer a flighty little sprite needing his protection.
And he smiled.
*****
Tyrande had somehow managed to bring Illidan and many other druids to Malfurion's barrow before any of them could blink. Malfurion sat on his bed, rubbing his eyes.
"Malfurion!"
"Tyrande?"
She practically leaped into his arms, knocking him on his back.
"Oh, Tyrande, my beloved -- Ack! Light! Ugh, I forgot how bright it is."
"You never were a morning person," Illidan laughed. Malfurion froze, then slowly turned his head over his shoulder, staring at the man who most certainly has not a demon. And he looked a bit different than when he was a night elf, too -- much slimmer, with deep blue hair instead of black. He still wore the blindfold over his eyes, but they no longer glowed.
And he wasn't looking straight at his brother. Instead, he seemed to fix his gaze at a point just above his head.
"Illidan, look at me."
His brother shook his head, and Malfurion noted absently that he wore his hair down, not tied back like he had for all his life.
"I'm blind. I cannot see you, but I can sort of sense where you are."
Blind? But even the tiniest bit of demonic power would have given him enough vision to see his brother, even if it was a vague and blurry image. Was Illidan completely free of his demon?
Tyrande pulled him closer and whispered into his ear about how nature itself had brought Illidan to Darnassus with a young girl who had been near fatally injured. And he seemed fully prepared to die for breaking the bounds of his exile, if only Tyrande would heal her.
"Tyrande," Malfurion whispered, "just before I left the Emerald Dream, Cenarius told me it was time for me to wake, that something significant was happening, something good. Maybe... this?"
They looked over to the former demon, his head tilted towards the roof of the barrow den.
"Illidan?"
"There's a bird up there. In a tree, with her eggs."
Malfurion furrowed his brow. Could his brother see through rock but not air?
"You could see her, too, and you, Tyrande. The earth has eyes. Let Nature do the seeing for you."
And those words sent the great archdruid's world spinning.
This was not the brother he knew, trusting only the arcane, insecurely casting away his inner strength in favor of the outwardly powerful. This was not the brother who lacked the patience to truly excel as a druid.
This was a man with great potential.
"Are you still a sorcerer?"
"I can barely cast. Malfurion, I hardly know what's going on. I slayed a demon -- it was like Nature's full power rose up in me and burst out of my hands." He looked down at them in wonder, then clasped them behind his back. "I know I've broken the pact we made, the exile I'm under. I'll understand if you need to kill me. I've accepted it. You do not need to feel any guilt. I just want to apologize for my foolishness as a youth, and now Aila is healthy, and those two things are all I came to ensure."
Malfurion looked down at his own hands, then sighed. He could not kill this man. His brother no longer deserved death. He supposed that Illidan had finally grown up -- and Cenarius would be quite interested to hear of this newfound druidic power.
"You are... no longer 'Illidan the Betrayer.' One might say you are 'Illidan the Redeemed.'"
Illidan chuckled as the brothers embraced.
"So what will you do now that you're no longer condemned to death?"
"I don't know. Maybe I'll open a shop. Sell fruit and drinks and food -- the humans call that kind of thing a 'café.'"
Malfurion slung his arm around his brother's shoulder, and the two of them chatted about this strange kind of food shop, ignoring the astonished whispers of the other druids.
*****
Hemet Nesingwary happily opened a letter from his favorite night elf, only to drop it in abject shock. He passed the parchment to each of his companions, nodding as their eyes widened.
"Ya never would o' thought it, him bein' so humble an' all."
*****
Aila and Brody arrived in the Cenarion Refuge to find a party in full swing, with dancing and alcohol running rampant.
"Wow, who knew the druids could dance so well?" Aila smiled. "Now go find your tauren, Brody."
Within the hour, he introduced her to Lyssa, a gentle, motherly type who cooed at such bright red hair, insisting on weaving vines of white flowers into the long strands. She was the perfect balance to Brody's boyish, charming energy.
After a brief bit of dancing with the night elves -- who could only smile at her strange, exotic movements -- Aila sat down with a group of druids who handed her a drink and raised theirs in a toast.
"To Illidan!"
She nearly dropped her mug, then asked the tauren to her left why they celebrated him.
"Haven't you heard the story?"
She shook her head, sheer amazement on her features, and the druids happily launched into their tale.
Well, she really should have expected it. She had seen part of his transformation firsthand, and to have it confirmed like this? Amazing. A soft smile spread across her face, a smile Brody knew as the kind he wore when he thought of Lyssa. He nuzzled against his beloved druid.
"Expect some interesting things from that one," he said. Lyssa smiled.
"An elf shaman? Could her future be anything but interesting?"
"No," he chuckled, "especially not if her past is any indication."
