Crossing Shadows

by lost frequencies

The Hidden Ones encounter a mysterious traveller from Azeroth. Recognising an opportunity to expand their influence and forge new alliances, they appoint Basim Ibn Ishaq, a devoted disciple, as their representative.

2. Pathways Unseen

Chapter 2 - Pathways Unseen

When Wrathion had spoken of a realm teeming with magic, Basim had envisioned breath-taking landscapes aglow with enchantment, not the damp, stifling atmosphere of the catacombs.

They had just stepped through the swirling portal and found themselves wading through water that reached their knees. "Where are you leading us, rafeeq?" Basim's voice echoed off the stone walls. Carefully, he adjusted the messenger bag across his chest, ensuring its contents were protected from the murky water. The air was cool and thick with the scent of earth and rot. Perched on his forearm, Enkidu seemed equally unsettled, his feathers bristling slightly in this strange, foreign, subterranean world.

The Black Prince paused, turning to face Basim with a solemn look in his eyes. "This, my friend, is the secret passage that will lead us out of the catacombs beneath Karazhan," he explained.

"Karazhan?" Basim repeated, his brows knitting in a frown. The name sounded alien to him, with no known lore or history from his world, and he couldn't help but admit his ignorance. "What is this place?"

"An ancient tower steeped in arcane history, built upon a nexus of leylines. My advice is that you stick to the paths I lay out for you and not be swayed by any apparitions you might encounter here," Wrathion said, his tone carrying a note of caution, "Karazhan has a way of...playing with the mind."

"So, this is where your dragonflight resides then?" Basim asked. "Within the tower?"

"Not precisely," Wrathion responded. "Karazhan has been my refuge, a sanctuary where I could continue my mission in solitude. While it has a rich history, it is not the primary dwelling of my flight. In fact, I am without a flight of my own."

Scepticism shadowed Basim's expression. "What?" he responded with a slight growl. "La ta-kdeb' aliya. That revelation will not sit well with the Hidden Ones."

The Black Prince's response was nonchalant. "The ruse was necessary to secure your cooperation," he confessed. "However, my flight's absence does not diminish the impact of our...potential partnership."

"Your certainty in our alliance seems a bit presumptuous. Are there truly no others in Azeroth you could turn to for aid?" Basim questioned. He was growing tired of Wrathion's lies and hesitated to venture further, given the uncertainties that were beginning to surface.

Wrathion's expression remained unflinching. "My situation is...complicated," he said. "My former allies struggle to see beyond what's in front of them." There was a brief pause before the dragon spoke again, choosing his words with care. "What I need is an outside perspective, one that isn't influenced by the intricate history and conflicts of Azeroth. That is the perspective you, Basim, can provide."

"You know that we are willing to offer you support and guidance, provided your intentions remain transparent," Basim said. "No more lies, Amir, or should I call you, Wrathion. What circumstances have led to this predicament in your world?"

"I sought to redeem my dragonflight, to stop the corruption by the Old Gods and see us fulfill our ancient duty to protect Azeroth," Wrathion said, his tone earnest.

"And where do I, a disciple of the Hidden Ones, fit into this grand scheme?" Basim asked.

"I believe your role here, just as mine in your world, is shaped by greater forces at play," The Black Prince replied. "It's not every day a portal spits me out into the desert, right in the Hidden Ones' path. Coincidence? I think not."

"Ah, so the fates conspire to throw us together. How…convenient." A slight smirk forming on the Hidden One's lips. "Let's hope their sense of humour aids us in our journey ahead."

"If you hadn't exposed me to the Hidden Ones, we'd still be exploring the restricted libraries in Abbasiyah together," Wrathion quipped, seemingly unamused.

A chuckle escaped Basim. "Perhaps, but then we'd miss the thrill of this grand adventure, wouldn't we?" he replied, his initial doubts giving way to a newfound sense of enthusiasm. "After all, what's a bit of danger compared to the dusty tomes of a library?"

"Speaking of dusty tomes..." Wrathion sighed. "There is a certain mage I need to consult regarding the scroll I was forced to leave behind in Alamut --"

The conversation was momentarily halted by the shrill cry of Basim's eagle companion. Sensing Enkidu's growing discomfort in the enclosed, unfamiliar space, Basim reached up to gently stroke the eagle's feathers. "Easy, my friend. We will soon be out in the open," he whispered in a calming tone designed to pacify Enkidu's unease.

"Not much longer now," Wrathion said, leading the way through the less waterlogged paths of the catacombs and towards a spiralling staircase. After what seemed like eternity, they finally emerged into the open world. The vast Azerothian sky stretched endlessly above them as the early light of daybreak cast a serene glow across the landscape.

Basim felt Enkidu's eagerness to soar. With a smooth motion, he extended his forearm, giving his companion the platform he needed to launch into the freedom of the skies.

As the eagle ascended, the imposing structure of the tower loomed into view, its architectural magnificence even more striking from an aerial vantage point. Enkidu's sharp vision scanned the area meticulously, each sweep of his gaze capturing crucial details surrounding Karazhan.

Basim's attention was drawn to a lone figure standing amidst the grandeur of the tower. The man, adorned in a scholar's robe that elegantly melded the resilience of chainmail with the flexibility of leather, exuded an air of authority. His silver hair added to his dignified appearance, reflecting the wisdom of years spent in study and contemplation.

Most striking to Basim were the man's eyes -- a deep, vivid blue that seemed to hold depths of knowledge and experience. They scanned their surroundings with an acute awareness, as if every detail, every subtle movement of air, was a story to be read, a secret to be understood. They were mirrors to the soul of the tower itself, reflecting the myriad tales and mysteries that the ancient edifice, with its time-worn and broken panes, had silently observed over centuries.

"Enkidu has spotted the magus you spoke of," he relayed to Wrathion, describing the scene as seen through the eagle's eyes. "He seems to be expecting us, or at the very least, he's aware of our presence."

Wrathion's reaction to Basim's description was one of acknowledgment rather than surprise. "That would be Archmage Khadgar," he said, a note of respect in his voice. "His foresight is as sharp as his magical prowess. It's not unexpected that he would sense our arrival."

Curious, Basim queried further, "Would you consider him a friend?"

Wrathion hesitated briefly, his expression conveying the complex nature of his relationship with the Archmage. "Friend might be too simple a term for what we have," he said thoughtfully. "Khadgar is an ally, at times a mentor, but our paths diverge on many fronts due to our different ideologies and methods. He certainly won't be pleased to see me returning to Karazhan without the scroll..."

"Sounds like you've found yourself in the unlikely role of a mage's errand boy," Basim teased, a hint of amusement in his voice.

A flicker of annoyance passed through Wrathion's glowing red eyes, quickly giving way to a more composed demeanour. "I am no one's lackey," he said, a low growl escaping his throat. "The mission I undertook for Khadgar was far beyond a simple errand."

Basim folded his arms across his chest. "So, I've become an unwitting player in your chess game with this Khadgar," he noted. "It seems you're reluctant to confront him alone, especially after not securing the scroll."

Wrathion exhaled deeply. "Damn it, Basim. Will you help me or not?" His growing frustration had pierced through their playful exchange.

"Assisting you doesn't mean I've approved of everything you've done," Basim replied, unfazed. "But it appears there's more at stake here than just your ego or that scroll. In the brief time I've known you in Alamut, I've seen a side of you that's amicable, even sincere. I hope that's still the case."

Gratitude flickered in the Black Prince's eyes. "You've been like a brother to me, Basim. Trust that my intentions are genuine."

Basim nodded. "Let's confront this Archmage together," he said, patting Wrathion on the shoulder as he moved along. "But bear in mind, sadeeqi. My loyalty lies first with the Hidden Ones."

With their understanding reaffirmed, Wrathion shifted into his draconic form, a majestic sight against the backdrop of the early morning sky. He gestured for Basim to mount, and as he climbed onto the dragon's back, Wrathion's wings unfurled with a powerful grace. They soared upwards, the world below shrinking as they ascended towards the upper reaches of Karazhan, finally landing on a balcony that led to Khadgar's study. The chamber was initially empty, but the spectacle before them was mesmerising. Books hovered and darted through the air like birds, their pages fluttering with a life of their own.

Basim was awestruck by the magical spectacle unfolding before him. He'd never seen anything like this in his world. "Praise be to God," he muttered, expressing his admiration in Arabic. "The library is alive!"

"Be cautious around these tomes," Wrathion warned. "They're more than mere literature; some can be quite lethal."

"Books that can cause harm?" Basim mused aloud, his curiosity piqued by the notion of such potent literature. "Do you mean they can be harmful in a mental sense, affecting the mind, or are they physically dangerous?"

Before he could delve deeper into his thoughts, the room seemed to pulse with an unseen energy. Then, as if conjured from the air itself, Khadgar materialised before them.

"Archmage," Wrathion greeted, his voice steady and formal. He executed a graceful bow, befitting the presence of such a renowned figure. "Allow me to introduce Basim Ibn Ishaq," he continued, gesturing towards the emissary of the Hidden Ones. "He hails from a world beyond ours."

Basim, momentarily taken aback by Khadgar's sudden appearance, quickly regained his composure. He stood upright, meeting the Archmage's gaze with dignity and respect, despite the lingering discomfort of his sewage-dampened garments.

"Did you enjoy your little excursion in the catacombs?" Khadgar asked, the slight smile on his face made it clear that he was well aware of the less-than-pleasant conditions below.

Basim, catching the hint of humour in Khadgar's tone, returned the friendly gesture. "It was an...enlightening experience," he replied, choosing his words diplomatically. "Though I must admit, the sights and smells of the catacombs are something I could have lived without."

The mage let out a light-hearted chuckle. "The catacombs beneath Karazhan are indeed legendary, attracting both explorers and treasure seekers alike," he said. "I shudder to think of the number of souls who wandered in and were never seen again."

He then turned his attention to the subject of the unusual odour. "As for the distinctive scent you mentioned, it's likely attributed to our resident black dragon," Khadgar said, a touch of dry wit in his voice. "He seems to have a penchant for using the lower reaches of Karazhan as a storage for his hunting trophies." The Archmage's expression grew more serious as he shifted the topic back to the matter at hand. "And speaking of that dragon," he continued, his gaze fixed on Wrathion, "he did make a promise to return a very particular scroll to my study. A promise that remains unfulfilled, I might add."

Basim, observing Wrathion's unease, couldn't help but let a smirk play on his lips. It was as though he was silently encouraging the other to reveal the truth behind their visit.

"Retrieving the artifact proved more challenging than anticipated," Wrathion confessed, a nervous chuckle escaping him. "But not to worry. Basim can personally vouch for the time-lost scroll's present location."

Khadgar's response conveyed a mixture of disappointment and reprimand, his brow arching slightly as he addressed Wrathion. "This behaviour is becoming a recurring theme with you, young dragon," he observed, his tone laced with a subtle rebuke. "I granted you access to the vast knowledge within this tower, and in return, you've chosen to meddle with artifacts and magics that are far beyond your comprehension."

Basim watched the exchange, his smirk fading into a more neutral expression. He felt the need to clarify his own role and the reasoning behind the current whereabouts of the scroll. "The decision to retain the scroll in Alamut was made to ensure my safe return from Azeroth," he told Khadgar. "I've been sent here to serve as an emissary. Wrathion has offered me an opportunity to delve into the world of Azeroth, to gain knowledge, and perhaps collaborate on ventures that could benefit us both."

Khadgar hummed in thought. "A wise move," he acknowledged, his discerning gaze lingering on Basim. "However, your arrival here could draw unwanted attention from less benevolent forces..."

"Would this not be an opportune moment to forge diplomatic ties between our worlds? As a representative of The Hidden Ones, it is expected of me to return with valuable information and insights."

Khadgar considered Basim's words. After a moment, he replied, "There's substance in your proposal, outlander. But your exploration of Azeroth shall be conducted under certain conditions to ensure the safety and integrity of both realms." His gaze then shifted back to the Black Prince. "Your actions, Wrathion, have not been without consequence, and while Basim's presence here offers new possibilities, it does not negate the need for caution moving forward."

Wrathion nodded, a trace of contrition in his demeanour. "The Hidden Ones, with their principles of justice and their wealth of knowledge, have much to offer. The insights they've gleaned from a place as historically rich as Baghdad could indeed prove beneficial to Azeroth."

"Very well. Then let us proceed with a clear understanding of our objectives," Khadgar said. "We need to establish the terms upon which the scroll might be returned to Karazhan and how we can facilitate a collaborative effort with all factions involved."

Basim stood by the window in Khadgar's study, watching the sunset on the horizon. Its fading light cast a warm glow across the sky, marking the end of the day filled with conversations and discussions concerning the time-lost scroll. It was during this brief moment of respite when he took the opportunity to observe the other occupants in the room, a habit he found insightful and often revealing.

There was Wrathion finding solace in the vast collection of tomes in the study, perhaps in search of answers that might shed more light on the mysterious scroll.

Khadgar, meanwhile, was occupied with arranging a small feast consisting of day-old bread, an assortment of dried fruits and a selection of cheeses laid out on the table.

His attention then shifted to the arcane servant moving silently through the chamber. The spectral figure had been tasked to tidy up the place, gathering blankets and pillows and arranging them neatly on the daybed in preparation for Basim's stay in the tower. It also attended to his earlier attire, the one he was accustomed to wearing as an initiate from Alamut, which was still damp from their journey through the catacombs. He watched in appreciative silence, as the servant whisked his garments away to get them cleaned and dried.

The idea of an arcane servant, a being summoned and bound to perform such tasks, was fascinating to him. He pondered how life might be different in his own world if such magical aids were available. The ability to summon and command such beings would undoubtedly make daily chores and tasks far simpler.

Khadgar's voice broke the silence, beckoning Basim to join him. "You must be hungry after such a long day," the Archmage invited, gesturing towards the modest spread.

Now dressed in dry clothing, Basim felt a refreshing shift in his state of mind, helping him refocus on the crucial aspects of his mission. He needed to understand the full significance of the scroll and to learn more about Wrathion's findings.

As they settled at the table, Khadgar extended the bottle of Dalaran Red towards Basim. He, however, politely declined the offer of wine, adhering to his personal principles. "Thank you, Archmage, for your generosity," he said with an apologetic smile. "I don't consume alcohol. May I have some water instead?"

The Archmage responded with an understanding nod, respecting Basim's customs and preferences without further inquiry. He quickly provided a jug of purified water for Basim, accommodating his request with the same grace and hospitality he had shown in preparing the meal.

Basim gratefully accepted the water and paused for a moment, closing his eyes to recite a silent prayer. He then reached for a piece of bread, dipping it into the warm honeyed butter, a humble yet delicious offering from his host.

With a bite of the bread, his thoughts returned to the mystery of the time-lost scroll. As he chewed thoughtfully, he pondered his next questions, eager to dive back into the discussion and unravel the secrets that it held.

"Wrathion, how did you come to know that the scroll was in Baghdad?" Basim asked, his tone inquisitive but measured. "And what is its significance? What makes this particular scroll so vital?"

The Black Prince seemed more captivated by the rows of ancient books lining the shelves in the study than joining them for supper. "My suspicion," he stated, his voice echoing slightly in the large room, "is that the scroll contains ancient secrets linked to the Titans, the progenitors of much of Azeroth's early history. It is believed to point towards the location of a powerful artifact. The scroll lay dormant here in Karazhan for centuries, undisturbed and unremarkable, until I inadvertently awakened something within it. After that, it simply vanished, as if it had a will of its own."

"I cannot help but think that if it wasn't for your little adventure, we wouldn't be in this delightful mess," the Archmage remarked, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips. "It seems your curiosity has a way of stirring up more trouble than solutions. Need I remind you time and again that the artifacts in Karazhan aren't just mere playthings; they're --"

Wrathion's patience had begun to fray at Khadgar's words. "Relics of immense power and history. Yes! You've made that abundantly clear. I...have had enough of your incessant naggings and lectures, old man," the young dragon snapped back. "You, too, defied norms and expectations. You turned down the Guardianship, and you've frequently relied on your Champions for your own ends. Your past is not without its own controversial decisions, wizard. You have no right to stand in judgement of my actions!"

Khadgar maintained his calm demeanour in response, "I will not deny my past," he acknowledged. "However, my decisions were made with a full awareness of their potential impact. And always with Azeroth's best interests at heart," he stated firmly. "Much like the Aspects have fulfilled their original purpose, the need for a single Guardian has passed. Our realm's protection rests on the countless brave souls who stood against the Burning Legion, the Lich King's army, the influence of the Old Gods. It's the unity and resilience of her people -- heroes, adventurers, and civilians allike -- that safeguard our world."

Basim listened, absorbing the wizard's perspective on collective strength. It was clear now that this foreign realm had gone through its fair share of wars and struggles. He then watched as Wrathion moved towards the windowsill, where he would spend the rest of the evening sulking, almost childlike in his silent protest. "Our Brotherhood was born from the understanding that the world is not black and white, but a complex tapestry of greys," he said, turning his attention to Khadgar. "We act from the darkness to serve the light, to maintain a balance where power does not concentrate in the hands of a few who might misuse it. We value free will; the freedom to think, to question, and to change the world for the better."

"Hmph. Interesting," Khadgar replied, his tone carrying a note of scepticism. "Your Brotherhood echoes the sentiments of many who vowed to protect the weak and root out the corrupt, only to become the very people they despise themselves. History is full of such ironies -- people starting off with noble intentions." He fixed Basim a probing look. "I must warn you now, Emissary of the Hidden Ones, that should you ever succumb to the parasitic whispers of the Old Gods or be swayed by the Legion's propaganda during your stay in Azeroth, our alliance will be short-lived."

Basim extended his left hand, revealing the missing ring finger. "This," he gestured to the space where his finger once was, replaced by the hidden blade, "is a reminder of the oath I took during my initiation. The path I walk is one of balance, of understanding the fine line between right and wrong, light and darkness. And I carry it with me in every decision, every action."

Khadgar couldn't help but let a small, wry smile creep onto his face. "Well, I must admit, that's quite the commitment," he said, eyeing Basim's hand. "I thought losing a chess game to Medivh was sacrifice enough, but you've certainly raised the stakes." He chuckled, regaining his composure. "In all seriousness, your dedication is commendable. Azeroth could use more individuals with such a profound sense of purpose. Just, you know, try to keep the rest of your fingers intact. We will be needing them. Especially now as we work together to decipher the scroll our young dragon so fervently sought to reclaim from your realm."

Wrathion, now more engaged, finally moved away from the windowsill to join Basim and Khadgar at the table. He brought with him copies he had meticulously made from various tomes he had studied earlier. Laying them out, he pointed to the symbols and unfamiliar languages that were present in the scroll. "I have some contacts who might help us decipher these," the young dragon announced, indicating the intricate scripts and symbols on the copies. "Their expertise in ancient languages, some of which are very obscure, could prove useful in understanding what the scroll reveals."

"Excellent work, Wrathion," Khadgar said. "Then we must leverage all these resources and stay vigilant against those who would seek to exploit its power for their own ends."

"One of my contacts, who might help us with the translation, is not easily reached and operates under a veil of secrecy," Wrathion said. "However, Basim here has an advantage. Being from another world, he has no known connections or allegiances in Azeroth, making him an ideal candidate to approach my contact discreetly."

"An undercover operation does have its merits in this situation," Khadgar said. "Basim's unfamiliarity with our world would indeed make him less susceptible to being tracked or recognised by those who might be watching."

"I am willing to undertake this mission," Basim said. He was no stranger to the art of blending in and gathering information. A skill well-honed by the Hidden Ones.

Khadgar looked at Basim, his expression one of respect. "You won't be undertaking this task alone, Champion," he assured. "And for moments when stealth turns to confrontation, you'll need something more than just your wits." Reaching into a hidden compartment, Khadgar produced a finely-crafted dagger. The weapon was not just a piece of forged steel; it shimmered with arcanic energies, indicating its magical nature. "This dagger is imbued with arcane powers," the wizard explained, handing the weapon to Basim. "It will serve you well in situations where discretion is required, yet force is necessary."

"Thank you, Archmage Khadgar," Basim responded, expressing his gratitude. He carefully examined the dagger, appreciating both its craftsmanship and the trust bestowed upon him by one of the most powerful mages in Azeroth.

As the night drew to a close, Khadgar excused himself to retire to his private chamber, leaving Basim in the study, which was now quiet and warmed by the soft glow of magical lamps.

The idea of spending the night surrounded by such knowledge was appealing to Basim. He presumed that these books were of the non-lethal and non-sentient variety, given their peaceful coexistence on the shelves.

Settling down, Basim performed his ablutions and began to meditate, a practice that helped him centre his thoughts and maintain his focus. In the quiet of the study, with the soft rustling of pages in the background, he reflected on the events of the day. The weight of his upcoming mission, the alliances formed, and the knowledge shared all played through his mind as he sought inner peace.

"Nehal? What are you doing here?" Basim asked, his voice tinged with surprise. "This is Khadgar's sanctuary. We can't just wander around as we please."

He had heard her voice, coaxing him to explore the forbidden areas of Karazhan. The surprise of seeing her, his childhood friend, the one who had always been by his side, was overshadowed by a rush of conflicting emotions.

Their bond had been deeply affected by the harrowing event at the Winter Palace years ago. Nehal's actions that night -- the shocking moment she had driven a dagger into the Caliph's neck -- had irrevocably changed everything between them.

Basim's mind raced as he tried to piece together how Nehal could have possibly found her way to Karazhan.

Nehal's expression was one of mischief, a trait Basim remembered all too well. "Come on, sneak thief. When have we ever let rules stop us? There's so much to discover here. This tower holds secrets that could help us."

Basim, however, felt a deep sense of respect for Khadgar's hospitality and the trust he had placed in them. "No, Nehal. We are here as guests, and we must respect the boundaries set by our host. Exploring restricted areas without permission would violate the trust the Archmage has shown us."

Nehal frowned, her adventurous spirit clashing with Basim's newfound sense of duty. "You've changed, Basim. You used to be more...daring," she remarked, her tone a mix of disappointment and nostalgia. "Now's not the time to worry about such things. Come with me. There's something I want to show you."

Basim felt a growing sense of unease as Nehal led him away from the safety of the sanctuary, her grip on his hand firm yet strangely cold. The further they ventured, the more he realised that something was amiss. This was not the Nehal he knew; her demeanour, her insistence, it all felt wrong. He recalled Wrathion's warning about the deceptive nature of Karazhan, and the potential for apparitions and illusions within its walls.

As the realisation dawned on him, Basim pulled his hand away and stopped in his tracks. He looked up, and his heart skipped a beat. Standing before him was not Nehal, but the djinn from his nightmares -- an entity that had haunted him for years. The apparition bore a menacing presence, shifting and swirling like smoke, barely contained within its form.

The djinn's eyes locked onto Basim's, and in that moment, he felt a chill run down his spine. It was as if the djinn could see into the depths of his soul, unearthing memories long buried.

Gathering his courage and relying on his mental fortitude, Basim confronted the djinn. "You are not real. You are just a trick of this tower, an illusion meant to lead me astray," he declared, his voice steady despite the fear that gripped him. Yet, he stood his ground, knowing that showing fear would only give the apparition more power.

He could still move and immediately made his way back to the sanctuary of the study, each step reaffirming his resolve to stay focused and not be lured by the tower's magic. His pace quickened, turning into a run as he navigated through the corridors lined with endless shelves of tomes.

And no matter the distance that was placed between himself and the djinn, he couldn't shake off the eerie sensation of being followed. It felt as though his oppressor was still close behind, a shadowy figure lurking just at the edge of his perception.

"Basim!" Wrathion's urgent voice had startled him awake. He jolted out of bed, drenched in sweat, his breath heavy, and his head spinning from the intensity of the nightmare.

Wrathion, looking concerned, was hovering over him. "You were thrashing about, screaming in your sleep," he said, his voice laced with worry.

Basim took a moment to collect himself, trying to steady his racing heart. "It was the djinn again, the same one that haunts my dreams," he explained, his voice still shaky from the ordeal.

Wrathion nodded in understanding. "I remember. You had similar episodes back in Alamut. It seems this djinn is more than just a figment of your imagination. It could be a manifestation of your fears or unresolved conflicts. These dreams might be trying to tell you something."

Basim wiped the sweat from his brow, the remnants of fear still lingering. "Perhaps," he agreed. "But deciphering the meaning of these nightmares is a challenge in itself. Right now, my focus must remain on our mission here."

Wrathion placed a reassuring hand on Basim's shoulder. "Of course, but don't ignore these dreams, sadeeqi. They could be significant. We should consider exploring their meaning when the time is right."

Basim took a deep breath, centering himself as he attempted to regain his inner calm despite the unsettling start to his day. "Is Khadgar still around?" he asked, curious if the Archmage was available to discuss their next steps.

Wrathion shook his head. "No, he left early this morning for some urgent matters. It's rare for Khadgar to stay in one place for long. He's always needed somewhere," he explained.

Basim nodded, understanding the demands placed on someone of Khadgar's stature. "He does seem like a man with many responsibilities," he remarked.

"Indeed, he is," Wrathion replied. "I've been thinking, Basim. There's a village not far from here where we can secure horses. It'll be a refreshing change for you, I believe. Riding through the countryside will give us a more scenic and leisurely approach to Stormwind City. I think you'll enjoy the experience."

Basim's spirits lifted at the prospect of riding through the Azerothian landscape. The thought of traversing this new, unexplored world, with all its wonders and mysteries, sparked a sense of adventure within him. "I look forward to it," Basim responded. "Riding horses has always been a pleasure of mine."

Wrathion offered a slight smile, his excitement barely concealed. "Then let's not delay any further. Gather your belongings; our journey to Stormwind awaits."

As they departed, Basim and Wrathion set out on horseback, embarking on their next leg of their adventure.

Basim didn't feel the need to look back at the tower that had been his shelter for the night. Instead, his gaze was drawn forward, mesmerised by the beauty that greeted them as they left the dreary outskirts surrounding Karazhan behind.

Enkidu's jubilant call resonated through the air. He soared above them, a free spirit against the vast expanse of the sky. For Basim, this journey, under the eagle's watchful eye, signified more than just exploration; it would be a long road towards shaping his understanding of this new world, and his place within it.