"Ah yes… This must be the pathway to where Illidan Stormrage is imprisoned."

"It is. Beyond this gateways lies the Night Elves' great Prison complex, watched over by the Wardens, a group of Rogues with the ability to teleport."

"Ah… So that's where you learned… Interested in teaching that to our other Rogues?"

"Fuck off Fremde."

"Hmmm… Should we free him? He is Malfurion's brother. He might talk our case when we awaken his brother from his sleep."

"Malfurion won't be pleased with that I can assure you. It was Malfurion who imprisoned him, to begin with for dabbling in Fel Magic."

"It's a BIT more complicated than that… But yes, the old hag is right. That was how it all started. We should stay clear of trying to free him."

I


"You must free Illidan Tyrande! With his might and knowledge, he will be able to protect your back, and hold the line while you come to your Love's aid against these monsters!"

"I… Yes… You are right, Dragon. Illidan will be of great help against the demons. We MUST free him!"

I


The Horde army poured into Moonglade.

And there they finally hit the limits of Fremde's knowledge.

She knew not where Malfurion rested.

Nor where in the Vale the Horn of Cenarius laid.

Nor did Garona Halforcen's knowledge do much better here. She had once infiltrated the Wardens in the tunnels, but she had not gone beyond the caves and tunnels into either Winterspring or Moonglade.

And so, the army had to actually scout things out, looking for a single little hut, or a place with Stone Giants in this overgrown vale with trees so tightly packed it was only surpassed by Duskwood in Azeroth.

Neither Wyvern nor Shamans were of great use in speeding things up.

And so, on the 8th day in Moonglade, two things happened.

The first was that they FINALLY managed to find the spot the Horn rested at. An island in the middle of Moonglade's big, glowing lake.

The second was that the Night Elves' army finally caught up with them.

I

Tyrande took a sigh of relief as she found what she was looking for.

The ancient hut was unmolested. No scratches, no fire, no dust. It was the exact same as it had been the last time she had been here centuries ago. The door was as sealed now as it had been back then.

She had not realized how worried she had been all the way up the march through the forests and glades.

Not before she saw for herself that the Hut was fine and well.

She had gotten here in time. Malfurion was safe.

As she dismounted, she found herself leaning up against the door, just breathing in and out, as her warriors began securing the places around it just in case the strange Trolls did attack.

It was like that, that a scout found her half an hour later, swooping down on her hippogryph.

"Lady Tyrande! The Dens are safe! The Trolls haven't even attempted to break into them!"

"Excellent!"

She got onto her feet anew, feeling energy pumping through her, as the fear melted away like dew before the sun.

"Then we have nothing to fear from the Trolls. While Illidan holds and protects our back we will marshall all our strength and crush them before-"

An echoing sound sounded across the entire valley.

A horn blast. But the sound was far more than just that. It was ethereal. Powerful and infused with the might of the earth.

Tyrande had not heard it for so, so many years. But she knew it well, regardless of how far away it was from them.

The Horn of Cenarius.

Behind her, she felt and heard the seal break open.

She turned and from inside, she heard sounds, steps… and then…

Out from the Den, wielding a massive staff of oak, walked Malfurion Stormrage, first of the Druids. Her love. Her light. Her other half.

The old man stretched, clearly being sore from his thousand years of slumber.

"The horn has sounded, and I have come as promised! I smell the stench of decay and corruption in our land. That angers me greatly."

Then seemingly only noticing she was there, his frown turned into a warm smile as he turned to her.

"It has been a thousand years since I last looked upon you, Tyrande. I thought of you every moment I roamed through the Emerald Dream."

She hugged him, and with the hand not holding a staff he returned the gesture with a strength she had missed so much.

"My heart rejoices to see you again as well, Malurion!"

"In the Dream, I felt our land being corrupted, just as if it were my own body. You were right to awaken me."

"I… I did awaken you, my love… Though that was the plan. The Burning Legion has returned, Malfurion. Cenarius is dead, and outlanders roam freely through our most sacred vales."

The man sighed.

"As was foretold…"

He broke the hug.

He seemingly took the news that the Demigod who had taught his entire race the magical arts of Druidic magic had been slain in stride.

"No doubt Archimonde will make his way to Hyjal Summit and attack the World Tree. If he succeeds in draining the tree's energies, this world will be doomed."

Tyrande nodded.

"My only thought was to awaken you and the rest of the druids. While I was distracted repelling the Demonic invasion at Azhara, the Outlanders have punched their way up through Ashenvale, and all the up here to Moonglade. But thankfully, we have caught up with them before they reached you and the other Druids. The druids of the talon reside within Barrow Dens at the end of this valley. If we can reach them, we may have a chance to stop Archimonde and his demons! But first, we must deal with the outsiders!"

Malfurion nodded, then looked her over contemplatively.

"Tyrande… If you did not awaken me… Then who did?"

"That would be the aforementioned outlanders."

In the blink of a flash, two dozen spears, 43 arrows, and a druid staff was pointed at the source of the comment… A raven that sat on a stone.

The raven did not seem bothered much about the threat.

"Who are you!?" Tyrande demanded angrily.

"A friend." The Corvid replied.

Then it transformed itself into a man.

An old man with a thick, brown hooded cloak and a staff of wood in one hand.

"A human?"

The man chuckled.

"No… I haven't been a human in quite some time, Priestess of Elune. I am something… Different now."

His eyes turned to Malfurion.

"And so you awaken Malfurion Stormrage. That is good. On you turns the fate of the world. The Demons have come again. The Burning Legion's hordes have once more come to try to conquer this world."

"If you're here to give us warning, you are a bit late."

"Yes… I am indeed late with warnings… But not for the reasons you think, Malfurion Stormrage. For you see… One of your oldest allies has betrayed you for their own ends!"

In a flash, a big, magical mirror of pure arcane energy opened up behind him, showcasing many many scenes.

Every elf hissed at the heretic display, and several arrows did actually fly including Tyrande's… Only to pass through the man harmlessly as if he was a ghost.

Malfurion however, kept his calm, and merely raised an eyebrow.

"So you are a spirit."

"I am beyond mortals, humans, and spirits… But that matters little now… BEHOLD! The great treasons of the Bronze Dragonflight!"

Inside the great mirror, events began to be shown. One after another. Demigods killed and their souls… Their souls were trapped and then disenchanted! Horror at the abominable display filled his heart then, but that was merely the beginning, for something even worse was then revealed.

For as the souls were disenchanted to create powerful tools of magic, the ones who had made them, were shown in their true light. Bronze dragons! They had taken disguises within the Burning legion to ensure that all the Demigods of the Wild would have their souls disenchanted and turned into artifacts!

"The Bronze dragons have gone to great lengths to ensure the creation of powerful new artifacts in this world. Be it the Helmet of Cenarius, the Crown of Goldrinn, and the shield of Tortolla! The Bronze Dragonflight has sacrificed their own allies of old in order to create these mighty artifacts!"

"LIES! THIS IS-" Tyrande began, only to be cut off as the old man continued, and the images shifted.

"And that is hardly the least of their crimes! For the Dragons led each and every single one of the Demigods to their deaths on purpose! Abusing the trust that their former friends and comrades had in them, they manipulated them to march unknowingly to their dooms! They told Mighty Cenarius that Demon infested, mutated Trolls were planning an attack on Ashenvale through the ancient tunnel, and they used incredible and ancient magic on him so that he would not recognize that these "Trolls" were actually Orcs! The same race that mighty Broxigar the Red belonged to!"

"WHAT!?" Both Tyrande and Malfurion exclaimed at the same time.

This time the image shifted to an image of a mighty host, composed of Humans, Trolls, Tauren and… And Orcs. Green-skinned, muscular beings, just like Broxigar!

No, wait… The image focused in particular on one specific Orc. One Malfurion and Tyrande recognized immediately.

Broxigar the Red. He was younger here, but Malfurion and Tyrande recognized him immediately.

"The time traveler from the future has arrived… Though not quite. The Broxigar you knew was a different timeline than this one, for the Bronze Dragons in the hubris, have destroyed and remade time itself! Then they remade existence into one timeline where they could tinker and plot as they pleased, revealing their true colors!"

The expressions on both Tyrande and Malfurion's faces as the mad oracle just rambled on and on would have been more at home in their younger days. It certainly did not fit either of their current personalities.

"The Dragons used your trust to convince Tyrande to station ALL her troops at the eastern front, letting the Orcs and their allies march unopposed through, all the way here, to Moonglade! And then, using the "threat" the Orcs posed to your men, they convinced you to abandon that front and march your entire army here, and thus give up any ability to use your forests and hills in Ashenvale and Azhara to slow down the advance! Then, they convinced Tyrande to free Illidan and-" "WHAT!"

At that proclamation, Malfurion finally regained his tongue.

"No! Please Tyrande, tell me that he lies! You did not actually free my wretched brother?"

"I… I did."

The old man nodded energetically.

"And so she did Malfurion Stormrage! And behold!"

The great mirror flashed again, and showed a different sight, this time of Illidan Stormrage, his long, dark hair flowing in a monstrously large ponytail behind him… And opposite him, on a skeletal, undead Horse was a human with grey skin, white hair, and piercing blue eyes.

The man wielded a sinister runeblade and armor of death.

"As we speak here and now, Illidan is about to commit to an action that shall destroy the entire forest between here and Ashenvale! Destroying your final possible chance to fight defensively before Hyjal. Just as the Bronze dragons planned! You are all naught but puppets on their strings. But I have come to break those strings!"

The man motioned dramatically to the west with his great staff.

"Heed my words Tyrande and Malfurion! Ally yourself to the Orcish Horde and the Humans, for just as the Dragons have planned, there is but one last chance you have to save this world from the Shadow. The end of your eternity. But even with that course of action, you will NOT succeed alone! Only together with Broxigar and his Warchief will you have victory, and a future for the Night Elven people!"

And with that, in dramatic fashion the old man turned anew into a raven, and took to the skies, leaving behind confused and mortified Elves.

I


The messenger, a Woman on a dark blue cat with teeth like sabers, spoke Zandali… But of course, Thrall did not need any Troll to translate for him. He was a Shaman. The gift of understanding was a blessing to him and all his kind.

He wondered if it was the same for this… Druid.

"How similar are Druids to Shamans?"

Fremde, not looking at him, answered in a tone that wasn't quite her usual, confident tone.

"Pretty different… But there is a lot of overlap between the two. It's kinda like how Witch Doctors crib magic from priests, Shamans, and Mages to form something new. Druids crib from both Shamans and Priests."

"Hopefully that translates to them having a similar understanding of languages."

"I'm sure it does. Hopefully, the same goes for the Priestesses of Elune. They are a bit… Different from Human priests."

Thrall turned to look over at where Fremde was looking. Out across the forested field, where on the opposite end an Army at least twice the size of their current coalition had gathered, in between them, the messenger rode back to their ranks.

It would have been an unnerving sight even at the best of times… But the countless dots of glowing orbs he could see pointed in their direction were something new.

"Either way, whether Tyrande understands you or not, it's Malfurion who is the key. Be respectful to his wife, but it is him you need to bring over to our side. He's our only shot at getting Tyrande to go along with us in war."

Thrall nodded and went over to his trusty wolf, her white fur on edge. He stroked her calmingly around her neck, trying to imbue her with a calm he himself did not feel.

The wolf, however, seemed to sense his mood, if the way she leaned her muzzle against him, not taking her eyes off the massive army opposite their own.

To their side Jaina made her way up to them, flanked by her right-hand man Lionheart. As she stepped up beside him, she didn't say anything at first, instead joining him in his wordless vigil over the messenger and the reaction the other camp would have to it.

Lionheart however stepped up to Fremde and began speaking in a quiet voice while motioning to the side.

The old spy nodded, then gave Thrall a cheerful "Good luck Warchief!" Before heading off with the older man toward the siege engines.

Just in case this went horribly, horribly wrong.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the two massive hosts just staring at each other, someone began making their way across the field.

Two elves. While he could not make out features at their distance, he did not miss the fact one of them seemed to be mounted on a giant, striped mountain lion.

"Showtime it seems." Jaina muttered and began walking.

Thrall hoisted himself up in the saddle and joined her.

4 souls began making their way to the middle of the open spot between the two armies, making their way to a small, rocky hill.

"Any last-ditch advice?"

"Well… In my experience Elves tend to be very smart and intelligent… But they also have a nasty tendency to develop egos. They tend to listen to logical reasons, but If they feel they are in the moral right… It is very, very hard to persuade them otherwise."

He nodded.

It was just more of what Fremde had been saying all along. Malfurion was the key. He would not be able to convince his proud wife, but… A fellow Shaman would hopefully be a different story.

Finally, they began nearing the meeting spot, where their opposite numbers were already waiting.

And looking at him with extreme interest.

No, not interest. Fascination.

As they trotted closer and closer, Thrall felt a sense of unease as the two Elves' eyes were glued to him, as if he was some sort of mythical beast of legend.

They almost didn't seem to notice Jaina, so focused were they on him.

They were tall. He'd been told they were, but it still struck him just how tall and MUSCLED they both were.

He had seen High Elves, and he'd been told of the contrast between their frail physiques and the Night Elves' strong and Robust builds… But it still took him aback just how mighty their bodies were made by comparison.

Their clothing was also a far cry from the Elves of Lordaeron, looking far more like something his own soldiers might wear.

Tyrande wore a set of armor pieces that still left a lot of her skin exposed, while Malfurion wore nothing but a set of furry, baggy pants, and a ragged cloak.

Tyrande wore a crown of some sort, but Malfurion had none, instead, his head was crowned by a set of great antlered horns.

Both of them had dark blue hair in a long mane down their backs, and purple skin, rippling with muscle. Furthering the dissimilarity compared to the Elves across the seas, and instead reminding him of his own people, both the elves had clear and bold tattoos around the eyes, immediately reminding him of Grom's black jawline.

It was the man, Malfurion, who spoke first.

"So it is true… Orcs have truly come to Kalimdor."

"We have. We have come to do our part to save this world Archdruid. Just like the Humans have."

Both the Elves' eyes glanced over at Jaina, the man with confusion, and the woman with irritation.

"You have come to help defeat the Burning Legion have you?"

Tyrande looked at Jaina with a challenging gaze, which Jaina meet, not with outright hostility, but not backing down either.

"We have. But I think introductions are in order before anything more. I am Jaina Proudmore, leader of the Human survivors across the sea, and this is Thrall son of Durotan, Warchief of the Orcish Horde."

"And the master of Broxigar the red, as well, We know his name."

He blinked.

"You… Know Brox then?"

It was such an out-there development, that Broxigar Saurfang was actually a friend of the monarchs of the Night Elves.

For the first time, the woman's face softened, becoming less hostile or fascinated, almost becoming something that could be described as warm.

"I do. He was a close friend of ours, in another time, and another place. I'm Tyrande Whisperwind. And this is my husband, Malfurion Stormrage. We lead the Kaldorei. The Night Elves of Kalimdor."

Malfurion nodded.

"There is much to be said, and much we must discuss about the future… But before that… It would appear that there is one more player who wishes to join this conversation."

His gaze turned upwards, and Jaina, Thrall, and Tyrande joined him, as a large raven soared down from the heavens, before landing beside them.

Thrall sighed, while Jaina's grip on her staff tightened and Tyrande's eyes turned narrow and dangerous.

The raven did not long remain a bird before shifting into his true form, as the prophet stood before them anew.

"Ah… And now you are all together, as I had always intended. It has been quite the journey to get you all here, and many more could have joined you, had it not been for the stubbornness, arrogance, and shortsightedness of Kings."

"So we are. I don't suppose we have now reached the point where you will finally tell us everything? It would certainly be a nice change of pace."

Jaina chuckled at that, while Tyrande kept glaring, and Malfurion looked contemplatively at the Prophet.

The prophet, though, turned away.

"I suppose it makes no matter now… I have yet more to tell all of you… But before that, I suppose you should be allowed to ask what questions you wish to know most."

Thrall considered what sort of questions he wanted to ask the most… But before either he or Jaina could speak, it was Tyrande who spoke up first.

"Who are you?! You come here, unbidden and unasked for, with grand and terrible tidings, and with knowledge that goes far, far beyond what anyone should know, and you claim that all of us are here by your machinations! How are we to trust you, when you seem to be doing the exact same thing as the Bronze Dragonflight?"

Malfurion glanced at his love, before turning back towards the prophet.

"Tyrande speaks with more fury than I would have, but her words are not wrong. I fail to see how you can ask us to trust you, spirit, when we know nothing about you, or your motivations or goals. We know nothing of who you are, something that can not be said for the Bronze Dragons."

Thrall and Jaina found themselves in agreement.

"It might not have my first question… But it's as good a start as any."

"Agreed. It is a simple, yet very illuminating question that would answer many others we might have."

The prophet did not immediately answer, but eventually, he sighed. Then he turned around.

As he did so he suddenly looked… Old.

Of course, Thrall had always known the Prophet's form as an old man, with his gray hair, and wrinkled face, but never had he thought of him as some feeble and tired old man. Quite the opposite in fact.

The man standing before him now, as he raised his staff and summoned an image behind him looked nothing so one tired beyond any physical exertion, beyond any weariness of a task.

"I... am the reason for the Legion's return.

Behind him, an image began to take form, showing the prophet, as a much, much younger man in front of a great gateway of some kind, crackling with power… And through that great gateway, poured Orcs beyond counting.

"Years ago, I brought the orcs into this world, and by doing so, I opened a path for the demons as well."

Jaina swore as Thrall found himself fascinated. He had always thought it was Gul'dan who had opened the Dark Portal, but it would appear that was nothing but the Warlock taking credit for the actions of someone else.

"For my sins, I was murdered by those who I cared for most."

The image changed to that of a squad of knights and a wizard killing the young Prophet, with Garona in the background.

"Despite my death, war raged across the lands of the east for many long years, leaving entire kingdoms devastated in its wake.

The image changed showcasing what could only be the second war.

"Now, at long last, I have returned to set things right. I... am Medivh, the Last Guardian."

Jaina swore again.

"THAT'S why you didn't go into details with Therenas and Antodias! They would have recognized who you were if you did!"

"Indeed, young Sorceress."

Thrall for his part was not more enlightened regarding the Prophet's identity than he had been before. Though at least he had a name."

"I'm guessing… Medivh is quite the figure in Human lands?"

"He is! Medivh was… Is the most hated Human wizard of all time!"

Medivh gave a tired, sad smile.

"I have no interest in clearing my name and legacy for the history books. My actions… What I am now, is all to set to set things right. To save this world from the gears I set in motion so long ago… How history remembers me, is of little consequence, so long as there is still history to be recorded by those who follow us. And only together, can you achieve that goal."

I


Vol'jin had been watching the meeting with great interest through a spyglass, getting a good look at the man who could only be the Prophet Thrall had told him about had joined and then talked and talked and shown magical mirrors with scenes that he, unfortunately, was at the wrong angle to be able to see.

Finally, though, the prophet had seemingly said what he came to say and turned once more to a bird.

Vol'jin had expected him to fly away then, to come back at some suitably dramatic moment in the future.

In fact, he was about to prepare for Thrall and lady Proudmoore's return, when the raven instead made way to where he was, and after a bit of flying, he swooped down in front of him, making practically every single one of his warriors jump back and level weapons.

The man emerged out of smoke and feathers, and resting on his staff he looked Vol'jin over.

The Darkspear chieftain did not flinch, and instead, he stretched his back upwards just a bit to emphasize his height.

"Vol'jin, son of Sul'jin… Your addition to this coalition was not my design… But I am glad that your Darkspear tribe made it here as well."

"Well ain't dat good. Now, are planning to give me some cryptic advice of de future as well? Dat be what ye do ya?"

The man chuckled.

"No… My time as a prophet is now past I'm afraid. All know who I am now, and so… Now the time has come to make amends and apologies. Hence why I came to you. There are others in your army I have wronged as well… But your People were the first… Timewise speaking."

"Ah see… And how exactly would dat be?"

"You see Vol'jin… I am Medivh, the last Guardian of Tirisfal. And in my youth, so, so many years ago, I helped my friend prince Llane assassinate the leaders of the Gurubashi Tribe, which started the last war between Zul'Gurub and Stormwind. And it was the Troll's defeat in that war which led to your father taking his shot at ruling Stranglethorn Vale. Which in turn led to your people's banishment from your homeland."

"Dat… Dat be really stretching it mon."

"Mayhaps so. But I wronged the Jungle Trolls by using my might and power to murder their leaders in a war Azeroth started. It was murder. Plain and simple. And in the end, your people paid the price. And for that, I apologize"

Vol'jin cocked his head. This was absolutely not where he had thought this was going to go.

"As an apology, I have come with a bit of good news for you and your people alike. Your father Sen'jin is taking his first steps toward becoming what your people call a Loa. I wish him, and you, the best of luck with that journey.

"What."

But the man had already turned into a bird and flown away, leaving Vol'jin behind utterly, and completely baffled, and his men equally so.

I


The heavy, weight end of her weapon slammed down where Medivh's head was… Only to pass right through him.

Garona snarled.

"So you are a ghost! Go back to hell Medivh, and leave me be, Dwimmerlaik!"

Medivh did not do so, instead just kept standing there as Garona brought the weight back with a pull, leaving it to swirl around her hand in a trained manner.

"I have wronged you."

"The understatement of all of History."

"I know. I shall not insult you with an apology. You neither want it nor would you accept it."

Garona glared at the monster in front of her with red, burning eyes.

"As such… I shall instead give you information you wish to know. As well as a… Well, I shall not call it a gift. That would be equally insulting."

"What information could I possibly want from you?"

"The identity of your parents. Khadgar's whereabouts, the fate of your previous blades, and… The breaking of a certain spell."

Garona did not answer at first. Then…

"Let's say I bloody well listen to you… Will you leave me alone?"

"Yes."

"Then get it over with you old bastard."

"Well… I suppose we might start with your mother. She… Was a fisherwoman who lived in a small town in the Black Morass. I frequented the area back when I first discovered the weak spot between worlds. And as such, I was familiar with her town. And so I knew where to look when I needed a… Test subject for Gul'dan."

Garona suddenly felt sick.

"So you kidnapped her, opened up a lesser gateway, and shoved her through it is that it? So Gul'dan could have a plaything?"

She did not have much memory of her mother. Almost none in fact. But even if what Medivh was telling her had not involved her very, very personally, it would still have been one that awakened rage and anger in her.

"Yes… You probably figured this out by now… Or at least suspected it… But your father was Gul'dan himself."

She really, really wished that she had had the self-control not to flinch at that declaration.

"The original plan… Gul'dan's I mean… Was that if Humans and Orcs could produce children, then the Horde would simply exterminate all Human Males in the Kingdoms they conquered, and take the women as concubines."

She laughed. A spiteful sound full of bile and vinegar.

"I see! And I suppose that you yourself would of course be exempt as you doomed your entire race to extinction and all human women to sexual slavery! By the endless Void, you are such a goddamned piece of shit, Medivh."

The old man did not deny it, merely nodding meekly.

"In either case, while the… Experiment was completely successful, it did not end up mattering. The Orcs of the original Horde were so bloodthirsty under the demons influence that even in the most bloody of sacks, rapes were actually pretty rare."

"No, they just murdered all of them instead. Men, women, children. All which can be laid at your and Medivh's feet."

"Yes."

His meek admission of guilt also pissed her off beyond words.

"Fuck you Medivh."

The man sighed.

"Beyond that… I know you wish to know Khadgar's location and status as well."

"And why do you think I want to know that?"

Medivh actually had the audacity to roll his eyes.

"I was there, you know. And I know better than most what a lonely existence you have had since then. I was responsible for that after all."

The weight once more sailed straight through his head, and once again simply passed through.

"That's not gonna work you know."

"Maybe not, but it sure as hell makes me feel better imagining what would happen if it does."

"Moving on… Khadgar is currently trapped on Outland where he has built a life for himself alongside his companions. It is not an easy life but is alive and well. And… sometime in the future… I'm not entirely sure when… It could be 6 years… It could be twenty… But… The Dark Portal will reopen sometime between those numbers. Do with that bit of information what you will."

Garona considered that. The implications were clear. It would also mean… That at worst, she would be an old spinster by the time it did. Which in turn meant that this might just be another, cruel joke by Medivh. He might be telling the truth… But that truth was not one that would do her any favors.

"...And the Kingslayers?"

"The Bronze Dragonflight have taken them from where you hid them, and have gone through great lengths to cleanse them of negative side effects, while also retaining most of their power."

"...These Dragons seem to know a lot more than anyone else."

'Of course, they do. They know EVERYTHING that has passed, is happening, and much of what the future will bring. What we are seeing now, is the most dangerous of the 5 being utterly, completely unfettered. A terrifying thing indeed."

"Okay… So… What do they intend to do with those monsters?"

"They seem to be planning on giving them to someone in particular. Though I'm afraid I don't know the name. Though the chances of their new owner remaining hidden once they start using them…"

"I'll handle that when the time comes. And… You said something about a spell?"

"Yes… A spell… Well… A curse to specific. If I recall correctly, it went… Let me show you my world, Garona. Let me drive my own divisions and doubts into you. You'll never know who you serve and why. You'll never find your place."

Garona went cold.

Medivh raised his staff and… It sounded like glass breaking. She blinked. Nothing physical had changed, but… Something inside of her had.

"There… That should lift the curse… As for my… Weregild… I think… This would be the best."

Once more he lifted his staff but this time… Garona gasped as she felt… Power surge through her. The weariness of age and wear and tear washing away like dew before the heat of the rising sun.

"I have played a large role in destroying your life beyond the last time we met. So… Allow me to erase those years, and give you back all the time lost. It will now be as if no time at all has passed since the day you first came to my tower. Your youth, your strength, your future, all of it will be as it was back then. Farewell Halforcen. May you make a better life with it, than I made of my life."

I


Fremde was leaning back taking in the good news that everything had gone according to plan and that there would be no fighting with the Night Elfs… When out of nowhere a raven landed in front of her and shape changed into a man.

She jumped back, crashing into a crate, as around her, various Orcs drew quite the array of weapons.

"Medivh!"

"I am he."

"What… What do you want?"

She did not manage to keep the panic out of her voice.

"Just a whim of curiosity. I wanted to see the Horde information gatherer for myself. It is quite the story you have made for yourself. Much more so than one might have assumed."

Fuck. He knew. He knew and now he would…

"I am glad the Horde has such wast knowledge at it's back. Hopefully… It will lead to a better world once this is all over. I wish you the best of luck with your future endeavors."

Fremde let out a breath she hadn't even known she was holding.

He wasn't gonna expose after all it would seem.

"I did have some things to share with you, however."

"You… You do?"

"Yes. From what I understand, you seem to have some… Bizarre theories on the Shadowlands, the place between life and death. I just wanted to tell you that your theories on the place are absolutely wrong."

"Oh… OH! I see… Well… Okay."

"I… Think you're strange ideas on souls being split into several copies are based on a misunderstanding of how Vestiges and souls work. To give a good example of such and how it actually works… In Lordaeron, there is a tomb containing Uther the Lightbringers remains, which people claim is the home of his soul, as a spirit of light and power resides there in his image. However, despite appearances, this is not his soul, nor a ghost, as Uther's soul is trapped in Frostmourne, alike, with so many others."

Fremde cocked her head. Well, it was nice to know that Shadowlands was just complete bullshit. But… Why Medivh had decided to tell her about and clarify THIS of all things was… Bizarre.

"What resides in that Tomb, is what is called a Vestige. It is an echo, created by various factors, such as the sheer power of Uther's Paladin Might, the perception of him that all those who lived in Lordaeron had, and of course, the place he was interned at. I have my own vestige in my old home of Karazhan. Places of power are always the origin of Vestiges. And often the Vestige does not much resemble the actual person. Such as Uther's. In life, he was a man who hated and looked down on Orcs, a hypocrite who banished a man for refusing to go along with an unjust order despite doing the same thing himself, and all in all was not the perfect image that so many had of him."

"That's… Fascinating and all, but… Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you will be… Be writing the history books, and the explanations of the world, which all future Horde Children will grow up on. It will not do if you get stuff such as this wrong. Your understanding of the world seems… Mostly fine other than this, but your bizarre understanding of the afterlife and how it operates was… So out of place, that I felt It must be corrected. It would not do if it spread to future generations."

Or maybe Medivh really had just completely lost his mind after being resurrected. That was a possibility too.

"Also…"

He put his hand inside of his own cloak in a dramatic motion, and pulled out…

"Gorehowl?"

"Yes. I found this Gorehowl, on an Eredar Lord OF THE BURNING LEGION! which the Bronze Dragonflight warned me would be trying to take control over my home. That was how I discovered their GREAT deceptions… But as for this Axe, it seems to be Gorehowl in all regards… I'm not quite sure how that works, but it exists in the same universe as your Warchief's Gorehowl. With the same power, enchantment, and details. As if it is actually the same axe, just from another place and time."

"So it's… A time paradox?"

"Mayhaps. Or it could be from another universe. Or an alternate timeline. Regardless… I think it would be for the best if you had a weapon to… Strengthen yourself in the upcoming battle."