To live in this world
You must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it
go,
to let it go.
-Mary Oliver
Oh Belore no, not again.
A portal.
The mighty Sylvanas Windrunner, the Dark Lady, the Banshee Queen taken down by a fucking portal. She completely underestimated that bitch, and now she was surely hurtling her way into the Molten Core or the Twisting Nether to plunge into a pit of felfire. The joke's on Proudmoore though, because Sylvanas made sure she grabbed that fucking staff as she stumbled back, and the silly little mage didn't think to let go. Guess it was a fair trade.
Teleporting didn't usually last this long, and the disorienting spin she normally attributed to teleportation felt off. It crescendoed into pain. Actual pain. A soul-shredding pain that dragged up memories of Arthas and Frostmourne. Northrend?! She gasped on reflex, fingers clutching against the scar. Frantic thoughts came unbidden.
He cannot be back. He's dead. I have destroyed the helm. This cannot be, THIS CANNOT BE.
The pain peaked and she screamed as everything went black.
It was a good idea...
...in theory.
Call up a portal (it doesn't even have to be to anywhere, all the better if she's ripped to shreds in the teleportation.)
Push the bitch into it.
Nothing else had seemed to work, and if it had, Jaina would have been able to add unanchored portals to her arsenal of weapons. She'd needed to act quickly, before Sylvanas moved back from the frontline and let her grunts take all the damage. Jaina had also needed the Warchief to remain corporeal, because pushing deadly tendrilled mist was ineffective and suicidal. There had been no time to consult with Anduin about what she was going to do, no time to work out an exit strategy if everything went sideways. The opportunity had presented itself, so Jaina went for it.
Blink to the undead elf.
Rip a portal into the air behind her.
Shove with staff.
But, of course she didn't account for Sylvanas's lightning reflexes, and she stupidly didn't just let go of the staff when she'd seen Sylvanas's hand close around it and yank her forward. She'd tried to blink backwards, still holding the staff, but something had gone wrong. A spell that usually just left her a little dizzy, instead felt like it was turning her inside out. She tried to call up a shield around herself but the pain increased tenfold, and she couldn't feel her magic. A scream echoed in her mind, but it wasn't hers. The pressure from the torn portal prevented her from drawing enough breath to even whisper.
If Sylvanas is screaming, I'm fucked.
Her eyes rolled back into her head as she surrendered to the pain and let go.