His grasp on the Thalassian tongue wasn't perfect, but he could understand her meaning well enough. He had heard a variation of this phrase used as a greeting between high elves both when he visited Quel'Thalas proper when he was younger, and from when he aided the elves in their war against the trolls.

"You are guided by the Sun, huh?" he translated the meaning aloud. Just like her; repaying his words with a stab. He smiled. A painful reminder of his past, and a cry of defiance. For a tactical woman, she sure did not know when to heel. Though, he supposed, that's what made her so interesting to keep around.

"Where to now, Arthas?" Jaina's pretty voice stole him from his musings. That was a good question. He was uncertain. Should he stay here and await the ally the Lich King foresaw? Or should he advance forward? He considered it. His Master did not specifically say that he foresaw this Illidan in this forest. Perhaps it was Sylvanas who he saw claim their soon-to-be ally.

"We should move after the Burning Legion. We should try to stall them as much as possible. Sylvanas will need all the time she can get."

"And if we meet Archimonde who asks why we left our positions?"

Arthas' smile grew smug. "Don't worry about that, Jaina. I have a plan for that." he refused to elaborate on the matter. For the suspense, but primarily because he knew Jaina would seriously object. Unfortunately, there was no better plan that came to his mind. But they had one more task before going after the Legion.

"Remember the campire we had built? The one near the elven corpses?"

Jaina didn't need to be told further. She immediately understood. She extended her staff, and there was a bright glow, magic surrounded them; and they were now at their destination.

He pointed his runeblade at the pile, and concentrated. He beckoned with his free hand, and the pile of corpses began to move. His dark magic raising them perfectly into the undeath. In a few moments where once was a pile, now was an army.

"Can you teleport us back where we started?"

"I can" she confirmed, "but I will have to draw more heavily on the Skull of Gul'dan if we get into a fight."

He let her know that it was fine. They could not afford to lose all the time it would take them to reach back. They must intercept the Legion.

With a burst of teleportation, they reappeared where they had started. They started their journey east. Soon enough they found that luck was on their side; Legion was not in a great hurry. They managed to catch up to their backmost detachment. The Doom Guards stationed there clued them in on Legion's marching plan. While the army marched, portions of it were separated to ensure everything would be destroyed or corrupted. The frontmost portion, containing Archimonde himself, advanced without haste. It would not do well for the small force of the Demon Lord to advance too far and possibly get surounded. Archimonde, the Doom Guard told, would take his time, and relish in the destruction.

Arthas rewarded the Doom Guard by slaying it. Jaina took care of his fel hound allies. They worked together like one; a small glance and a twitch, and Jaina understood she was to launch a surprise attack alongside her friend. Fel hounds are dangerous to mages, doubly so for ones like Jaina, but rarely ever is there a creature that can defend themselves against a powerful unexpected attack.

Their strategy moving forward was clear. Kill the Legion's demons as they encounter them, the powerful ones swiftly enough to not alert the broader Legion, and if they ever come across any of the Legion battling the Night Elves, they could subtly manipulate the Scourge, causing the undead to disobey their Legion masters and run amok. Any Night Elves thereby saved would be told to make their way, in stealth whenever possible, to Mount Hyjal. Both Jaina and Arthas could agree; the initial Elven resistance would be more important to be filled with bodies, than the eventual Scourge betrayal.

Like the Legion they supposedly served, Arthas' group did not rush for the World Tree. Too many of the Legion dead with their near immediate arrival would surely alert Archimonde to their betrayal. Over the next two days, they interfered directly where they could get away with, but Arthas mostly focused on long range Scourge manipulation to stall the Legion's advance.


"Stay weary, Windrunner. These Barrow Deeps have remained untouched by our kind for nearly three thousand years. There is no telling what kinds of creatures have taken residence here in our absence."

"Did you not say the druids were last awakened a millennia ago?"

"I did not. Only one druid was awakened last millennia." the pained way she said it made it clear which druid she was talking about.

Their group, which has been expanded by the Druids of the Talon that had rested on the upper levels of the Barrow, made their way further into the deeps. Whisperwind appeared to be somewhat cautious, and Sylvanas could easily understand why. There was a deep corrupting darkness infused in these the enormous creatures they've slain. Though the corruption was demonic in nature, it didn't feel repulsive to her. She idly wondered how horrid it would feel to her living form.

Deep in the caverns they found a magical fountain with blessed waters. Her elven compatriots had quickly drank upon its waters to replenish their strength, and heal their wounds. Sylvanas did not dare risk it. She was an undead monstrosity. Be it blessing of the human-worshiped Light, or the blessing of Elune, or even Belore; she did not want to see what such a blessing would do to one such as her. It suited her fine, anyway. She had her own way of healing.

They returned to furbolgs they met on the way to the fountain, and Whisperwind healed their shaman with a vial full of the fountain's waters. She insisted to save those furblogs. Perhaps in time they would repay the favor.

They continued south until they encountered a split in the path. To the west stood an imposing, meticulously crafted door. Whisperwind looked immediately drawn to it.

"This looks promising. The door is too extravagant for the druids, but whatever treasures lay hidden behind this door could serve us well against the Legion."

She hurried, but Sylvanas stood rooted to her place. "I'm not going near it, Whisperwind. The door is awash in divine energies." It made her uneasy. Elune's light clearly shielded the passageway. It sung of a sweet promise of embrace, and of a warning. As if a mother welcoming a runaway child with love in her arms, and warning on her lips. Sylvanas shook her head, attempting to clear it of the influence. Elune was the enemy of her people; they forsook her when she led her children to cast the Quel'dorei out.

"You must conquer your fear, Windrunner." Whisperwind said, strong but not harsh. Sylvanas glared at her. "I am an undead, Whisperwind. We don't mix well with the divine. Besides, as you pointed out a few days earlier, our kind should beware the wrath of Elune."

That by 'our kind' Sylvanas meant the Quel'dorei was clear to both her and Tyrande. There was danger for her were she to near the door. The night elven woman simply sighed and motioned her to follow.

"Elune will not harm you as long as you are with me, her priestess. As long as we work for the same goal, I can guarantee that her wrath will be kept restrained. Elune is of fury to her enemies, but to those that aid or revere her, she is known for her tranquility."

Sylvanas scowled, but there wasn't much she could do. As little as her words did to reassure her, if she didn't cooperate, she faced the wrath of the Lich King. She was damned whichever way she chose. She gave a nod to Whisperwind, who gave her a kind and appreciative smile. It sickened her.

Whisperwind turned to the door. "The Priestess of Elune demands a way forward. Open!". The door obeyed her command, and split formed in the middle of the golden engravings. From it, the door slowly opened itself outwards. Unlike Whisperwind, Sylvanas was immediately on guard. The air that left the doorway was not old nor dusted. It was as clean as in the rest of the cavern. That meant there were living there. She mulled it over in her head, but decided to inform the others.

"Then we'll slay them if they stand in our way. Whatever beasts would dare to stand in way our mission, will have made a poor choice."

She was confident. Sylvanas knew the folly of confidence in one's own domain. If only she had her sisters with her...she would feel a lot more reassured. Regardless, Whisperwind pressed onwards, and that meant that so must she. She cautiously flew past the opened gate, and for a moment, just one, there was a blinding light; there was something terribly wrong...just for a moment she was almost gone, but then the moment passed, and she was on the other side of the now-closed gate. True to Whisperwind's word, Elune's light let her past, but there was no going back now. The walls were as infused with her light as were the doors. She could not phase through them. She was certain.

Tyrande's group did not get far. A creature that was a sick fusion of a bear and an owl -with the bear being its lower half flowing into its owl-like higher half- barred their way. The beast opened its beak to speak.

"Your quest is foolhardy, Priestess! Even your goddess has condemned the one you seek to free!"

This surprised Sylvanas pleasantly. She did not know that there was anything here to free. Was this the ally the Lich King foresaw? Any forsaken by Elune would make a useful ally, both against the Legion, and later against the Kaldorei.

"Step aside, Wildkin. As the First and High Priestess of Elune, I will not be barred passage through these hallowed halls. Instead of stalling me, you would serve your position better to aid in our mission."

The creature roared in defiance. It seemed it disagreed. The roar attracted two caped female Kaldorei warriors armed with warglaves. Sylvanas allowed Whisperwind and her forces to focus on the so-called Wildkin, as she focused on her enemies.

Her ghastly hands began glowing deep green, and soon one of the caped warriors became a victim of her Life Drain spell. The stolen life energies helped wash away the feeling of Elune's light that hung on her as residue. It helped power her own abilities. The life that filled her, after so long in death, always felt euphoric to her, mind desperate to keep hold of the temporary lifehood. But she had to be stronger. She cut the spell off, and became intangible to avoid the sea of daggers thrown her way by her other enemy. Her original target was dizzy after the sudden loss of so much life, and she took advantage. She flew at her, making sure to materialize and fire off an arrow to pin her other foe, and with a dagger slew the off-guard elf. She flew at her sole remaining opponent as she pondered an issue. The ally, who was it? The woman would surely know. Distasteful, but needs must. She avoided all of her enemy's thrown daggers, and flew under and around her warglave, straight into her body.

However could her sisters ever bear this? She felt as if she was tightly compressed into a suit that was certainly too small to contain her. She tore at her victim's mind uncaring of the pain she caused, searching for the secrets hidden within.

...It could not be. She had thought him dead. It couldn't be that the hero who had fought alongside Queen Azshara had not only lived, but was within her reach. If his powers were to aid them, surely this would be more than a worthy trade for a dead Malfurion. And he must so very itch to settle the score. For the first time since ever, she felt herself glad to have served the Lich King. That moment died more quickly than it came, though, and after drinking herself full of the elven woman, Sylvanas departed her body. It collapsed on the ground unmoving, and eerily thin. Sylvanas herself, however, appeared more solid than before. Where once she was transparent, she now appeared more translucent. The life stuck to her, but she could already feel her body, if one could call it so, converting it into power.

Once again, in far too soon of a time, Sylvanas felt an Elune-infused arrow pressed against her throat. "I don't appreciate whatever it was you thought you were doing, WIndrunner." The voice of Whisperwind was cold, and seemingly out of patience. Sylvanas, however had a plan.

"What I was doing, Tyrande," Sylvanas said politely, but firmly, "is in your interest too. I know now what these elves are hiding."

"The noble wildkin did mention one that our Goddess forsook. Who is locked in these treasured halls?"

"One who could very well turn the scales in our favor." said Sylvanas. She hid the excitement within herself, and allowed only hope for the future to seep into her tone. "We must hurry and set him free. After all, would Malfurion not want his brother free and atoning for his sins fighting against the greatest of Kaldorei's enemies?"

"Illidan? It's been ten thousand years! Could he still be alive?"

"I have seen it, Tyrande." she injected the needed passion in her voice. "Illidan still lives. His wardens, the so-called Watchers, have ensured that he would spend his immortal life in chains."

"We should free him then," Whisperwind exclaimed, and Sylvanas had to try hard to not let the smile of triumph shine, "he would be the perfect ally against the Burning Legion."

"Priestess," a druid of the talon spoke drawing her attention, "he was locked up for a reason. Can we really kill all of our brethren in the way just to free one man? Even if he could change the tide of war, is it really wise?"

Another of the druids concurred. "How can we be certain that he won't turn back to his demon masters? He is known as the 'betrayer' for a very good reason."

Those Belore-damned druids. They cannot be allowed to stop her from freeing Illidan. With her index finger she moved away the arrow from her throat. "If Illidan joins the Burning Legion, it changes little; we still have no plan, and we still have too little allies. If he joins us, however, we stand to gain a powerful ally. He has spent ten thousand years in prison. Give him a chance to prove that his ways have mended." Personally, she doubted it. She knew full well how pervasively hatred grew in isolation. But even had he changed completely, she owed it to one of their ancient heroes to set him free. "As for the dead Kaldorei, there exists a path forward too. We need only incapacitate them. The main warden, Maiev, is not here, but there exists a commander here. I can posses her, and have her command the Watchers to head for the World Tree. There's no need to spill ancient blood." Unfortunately.

Whisperwind frowned, but nodded. "As distasteful as your plan to possess one of the Kaldorei is, it is a good one. There would be little downside to this plan…but the girl. Would she live?"

Sylvanas shook her head. "We cannot allow that. Someone who has regained free will after mind control would work against us. One more dead to save many more."

The Kaldorei woman nodded with a determined look. They pressed onwards. The druids did not trust her, she could tell. Thankfully they had no option but obey. Whisperwind was more complex. Sylvanas was certain that trust between them was shaky; Whisperwind likely only trusting that she had as much a need to maintain this shaky alliance as did she. Then again, the woman did claim to care for her suffering.

They reached another divinely sealed door. This time, however, it refused to yield before the Priestess. There was a split passage a short while back. Whisperwind split them in two; her group going to the northern passage, Sylvanas' to the southern. The southern passage led them to an area barred by a simple dungeon gate, quite unlike the divine ones in both divinity and appearance. Sylvanas' group shattered the gate with ease, and were met with stone obelisks, maybe a foot shorter than elven male, positioned in a trapezium shape. These obelisks were adorned with dimly glowing blood-red runes. On top of each of the obelisks' rested a vessel on top of which floated a brightly pulsating, looking as if made of liquid fire, 'S' shaped rune. As soon as they entered the room, each of the 'S' runes shot in the middle of the room, which began to morph into a stone golem.

"It's a trap! Defend yourselves!"

Her allies did not need to be told twice, as they began bearing down on the golem. She jerked her hand towards one of the druids, and a shimmering green oval shield surrounded him, mere moment before four bolts of fire would have collided with him. The golem, as it turns out, is not the biggest threat here.

"Withdraw! Now!"

Thankfully they obeyed, as she floated in front of them to shield them from magical attacks. The golem wasn't an issue for her, even alive she would be agile enough to dodge him, and now even more so. They kept moving backwards, until the golem was in the middle of the gate, and them outside it. Just as planned.

Four bolts of fire hit the golem. It shook, and the falling pieces indicated heavy damage, but it survived. The druids, as it turns out, could scrounge together a brain between them, and understood her plan. To aid her, they put their powers together, and summoned fierce winds to block the golem from advancing.

She flew through the gale, shielded by her magicks, and around the golem. She did not dare risk finding out whether the golem was magical enough to bar her passage. As soon as she reached the centre, she flew up in a spiral direction, and unleashed four arrows.

They flew true, and the sounds of destruction informed her that the monuments have reached their end. The golem cried out an-almost pained whine, and it collapsed to the ground.

She gave the druids but few moments to recover before she had them move further. They had little time left to lose. The trap room lead into a wide library of an interesting design. There were bookcases lined along the walls in an half-oval shape, with a square in the middle of the room of eight bookcases rested against one another. Nearby the southern part of a square was a table with a two chairs, one place of reading, another being in the far right of the room. The three protectors of the room, night elves with almost shaman-like abilities, fell easily enough. The lack of warriors to shield their fragile bodies was their downfall. She looked over them, and made sure that none had sustained lethal injuries.

There was nothing of use for her in this room...unless? "Stay here, and skim through as many books as you can. Search for anything regarding protections of this place, or its secrets. I will move on ahead in the meantime."

She moved on northwards, and eventually came into another room. It was a more secure wing of the library, one not meant for casual readers. Moreso than the traproom before, this place seemed heavy with the arcane. She stopped, and scanned the room carefully. This time she sensed it before she made another mistake.

There were books along the walls, but they barely caught her attention. What did however, were the two light-sea blue gemstones, two thirds the size of an elven male, that floated above a golden pedestal; each on the opposite side of the room. They were placed in some sort of golden power-harnessing equipment, but she could tell little else by sight.

The next thing that drew her attention was the book behind these gems. And what a book was it...she no longer had a need to sense the book's magic, she could visibly see tendrils of magic pulsing out from the book. It was ancient, and incredibly powerful. And it was all hers for the taking.

Magical forcefield barred her passage. When did she...? She had not felt herself move. She narrowed her dead eyes. The irony that it was the defenses of this room that protected her from the book's influence was not lost on her.

If she were the traitorous prince, Kael'thas, she could absorb the magicks of the defenses and fuel her own strength. Alas, she knew not his 'Siphon Mana' spell. If she were Jaina, perhaps she would know of a clever way past it. If she were Arthas, the damned bastard, she would wield his runeblade to pierce through these protections.

But she was Sylvanas. She scowled. Yet again the Ranger-General had no solution. But the Banshee Queen did. She placed her hands on the magical barrier, and channeled into it her dark powers. The beings of these barrows have shown themselves weak to corruption, as did all that live. She poured more and more of her strength into the barrier, and she was rewarded by seeing it grow thinner. After another half a minute, it grew thin enough for her to act, and she flew through the gap, destroying the gems only a moment later to shatter the barrier.

She approached the powerful book, wielding rage to shield herself from its allure. She flipped through the book. It was written not in Darnassian, the tongue of the Night Elves, nor Thalassian, language of the true Elves. Nor was it written in any other tongue she could speak in. But she could recognize it readily, and with some difficulty -borne of disuse- she could divine its meaning. The book was written in the runes of the arcane. How odd. Her people were exiled from their ancient homeland for their insistence on practicing arcane, and yet there's yet further proof that the Kaldorei had not abandoned the arcane arts. She allowed herself to wallow in anger for no more than a minute. She would have her revenge in time. The sins of the Night Elves will be repaid in blood.

She refocused her attention to reading the book, careful to not surrender to the book's powers. It took her few more minutes of flipping through the pages to confidently guess as to the purpose of the book. She was certain it was somehow connected to the defenses of this place. If only she had time enough to fully read it…but this would have to do. She pocketed the book beneath her left arm, and left to rejoin with her group.

"Windrunner." one of the druids said as disembarked from his group and approached her, greeting her politely. "This place is a fascinating treasure trove of history of the Watchers."

"Anything immediately useful?"

"There is. We have managed upon a book detailing a hidden treasures. While it wasn't specific on the nature of the treasures, it did detail what room contains the secret passage to it."

That was good news indeed. She gathered the druids and they went back to the pre-trap hallway, and turned left. There was yet another split; practice room for archery to the west, and what looked like a misplaced, makeshift reception area to the north east manned by more of the Watchers. The right path was clear, and so they non-lethally fought their way through aforementioned Watchers. Moving past a gate that blocked their way they came across yet another two pathways. One leading to what looked like a large prison cell, the other leading someplace upwards.

Sylvanas turned to the prison. "Are you sure it is wise to free more of the Watcher's prisoners, Windrunner?" a druid asked her. "We are already taking a risk with the Betrayer. Bringing more dangerous convicts could lead us to be unable to contain either."

Sylvanas stopped in her tracks, and turned to regard the druid. "What is your task here?" The druid looked momentarily unsure as to the line of questioning, but dutifully and truthfully replied "To aid Princess Whisperwind in driving the Burning Legion away from this world."

Rage filled her deadened heart, momentarily clouding her previous thoughts. She would dare claim herself the rightful heir of Queen Azshara's royal line? These blasphemous, treasonous Night Elves clearly knew not honor. But Illidan would. The last Night Elf of honor.

But she had to get her bearings together. She returned to her earlier train of thought. "My goal here is to defeat the Burning Legion by any means necessary. For you to fulfill your task here, and for me to fulfill my own, we must have aid against the Legion."

"I understand, Windrunner, but we risk turning a tenable situation into an untenable one."

"They will serve, druid. The Legion is as much their enemy as it is our own. The Legion is as much a threat to them, as it is to any other."

The druid remained reprehensive, but silent. Sylvanas flew down the corridor over to the prison gate. Therein she saw three Night Elves. Not many, but there must be more holdings nearby. She woke the prisoners with a loud whistle. Soon after her death, she had learned that in her solidified form she could mimic many of the things her living body could do.

The Elves rose, and beheld her. "You downtrodden transgressors, rejoice. I am Sylvanas Windrunner, Ranger-General of Silvermoon. In the name of Priestess Tyrande, I have come to offer you a pardon for your crimes. The hour of doom is at hand; The Burning Legion has returned to claim this world. Those of you who will pledge yourself to defend Nordrassil to your last breath shall be set free. Will you answer the call of Kaldorei in their time of need? Will you earn your freedom, or will you rot your immortal lives here?" She spoke to them in Thalassian fearing that the isolation might have made them unable to speak Common. No one exactly knew why, but Elves possessed an innate ability to commune in languages they had little contact with. They can resolve the issue of whether they spoke the tongue of the Alliance when first impressions have passed favorably.

The dreg-clad Elves kneeled as one. The male spoke up in the Darnassian tongue. "Free us, Lady Windrunner, and we are yours to command."

She doubted that. When the threat of Legion passed, she had little hope for their continued allegiance to the Scourge-Kaldorei alliance. She smirked internally. Then again, she had no plans to respect that alliance either. She flipped through the book she carried, searching for the right page. She read the arcane incantation, and she felt the arcane protections disappear from the gate, as it opened.

They dutifully approached her. There were two woman, and one male. She spoke an incantation and their handcuffs unlatched, and fell to the floor. She bid them to follow, and floated back. The ex-convicts looked nervous around the druids, but seeing their deference to her, they relaxed.

She took the next available path, one leading upwards. Eventually it led her to an alcove overlooking the divine gate that had barred them pathway. On the other side, she saw Whisperwind who waved at her. Reluctantly, she waved back. Before her was a circle of power. It was in ways similar to one they used back at Dalaran -she recognized some runes-, but it was also very different. The only thing she knew, that she could pretty accurately guess, was that it would open the door. After all, why else would it be overlooking the door?

She stepped onto the circle. Nothing changed. That was odd. She observed Whisperwind entering her own circ-

It struck her before she could finish her thought. The light of Elune flowed through her, and it felt like the life she absorbed from the Kaldorei Watchers was like lava flowing through her non-existent veins. She desperately tried to summon forth some power to protect herself, but it was fruitless. Elune's light was incinerating her body. She had longed to be free of this monstrosity, but now that death approached her, she felt fear. Not for herself, but for what Arthas would do to her people as a punishment for her failure.

Sudden cold gripped her, and incredible power rushed through her. She did two things only moments apart, she willed the door to open -as she suspected Whisperwind must be doing on her end- and cast the Anti-Magic shell to disconnect her from the circle of power, and from a further influx of Elune's burning light. She heard the door clang open, and she felt the unnatural gripping cold slowly push away the burning of Elune's light. Before her very eyes, her body that was moments before a barely perceivable sliver, was reforming into the banshee form that she had gotten unwillingly used to.

"I have yet need of you, Sylvanas, and so does my champion." the voice of the Lich King admonished her. That she ought to be more careful in the future was left unspoken.

Once her ghastly body was reformed, the cold left her body, and the presence of her master withdrew. His cold may have left, but she felt a different kind of cold. If the Lich King can so easily bat away the power of Elune -and if Arthas was not boasting- the power of the human-worshiped Holy Light…she dared not finish that thought. She had not sensed his presence before, and in this state, she did not dare risk him listening.

The druids and the ex-convicts approached her, but she just flew through the alcove, and under the head of the door, stopping some distance past it. She had no desire to entertain questions now. Patiently, she waited for all her allies to reach her. Thankfully for their mission they did not delay long.

"Sylva-"

"We have no time for this. We must press on, Whisperwind if we are to claim Illidan in time. Fortunately, we have found ourselves some help."

"We are freeing the betrayer?" one of the female ex-prisoners asked in shock. Sylvanas gave her an unimpressed glare. "He will be offered the same choice you were. Will that be an issue?" If the woman disagreed with her plan, she did not voice it. "Come. There is little time."

She flew past many pathways, sparing each but a glance, as she looked for the path deeper into these Watcher prisons. Eventually, she and her group approached another gate. Green energies gathered in her hands, and a light green sphere shot out of them into the gate. It exploded, and she turned herself intangible to let it pass her harmlessly. Thankfully for her allies, neither stood very close near her, and were not harmed.

"Caution, Windrunner. All the help in Azeroth will be useless if you negligently kill it."

Whisperwind's reprimand fell on deaf ears. If her allies could not survive mere shrapnel not unexpected, then they'd be of little use to her. Her eyes scanned the path before her. At the end was another of those Wildkin. The path itself was merely a hallway littered with prison cells on either sides. More Kaldorei to throw their lives away by the will of the Scourge. The smile was weak. It was hard to shake off what had happened.

"The moment is upon us!" she cried as she let loose an arrow at the Wildkin. The arrow flew true and pierced the being's chest before it could react. She flew at it, and dodged his claws with ease. As she flew under his legs, her dagger flashed, and red line trailed his thighs. She flew fast and nimble, and her dagger struck deep with fury.

The beast roared, and its weight shifted on his injured leg, which buckled under the strain. She seized upon his moment of failure, and flew to its neck, and slammed her dagger, using her weight and its weak leg, to force it to collapse backwards, the gravity driving the dagger as far as it could possibly go.

She stood up right as rain, and her arms unleashed upon him the fury of her Life Drain spell. It's dying moments would fuel her. As soon as she felt the beast die, she turned on her heel and announced.

"Prisoners of the Watchers, hear me! We seek ones willing to aid our war against the Burning Legion!" she cast her deadened arm towards them, from one side to another. "In the hour of Azeroth's need, you all are given a second chance. Join us, and help us protect Nordrassil. Succeed and you shall earn your freedom, sins replayed in sweat and blood. Reject us, and you will rot here for all of your immortal lives. The moment is upon you-" she clenched her hand, "-you need only seize it!"

"You keep making promises without any authority to uphold them." Whisperwind pointed out, words critical but the tone carrying tones of amusement.

"Are they not going to get pardoned if they are willing to fight the Legion?" the question was rhetorical. They both knew that if any of these prisoners survived the coming fight, they'd have earned their freedom.

"Of course they will. But shouldn't someone who can make such a promise issue that offer?"

Sylvanas didn't understand the point of the questioning. Who cares whether it is she or Whisperwind that issued the offer? She absentmindedly spoke the arcane incantation and broke the spell on the prisons, and another to unclasp the handcuffs.

She started to move further north, and her allies followed. Some way past the prisons there was a magical doorway. It was comprised of a small stairway leading to a platform branded by a rune-filed circle. The platform was connected to pillars on each side, both of which connected at the top in a form of an identical circle. She immediately recognized the structure. Waygates were ancient and powerful passageways between places. She frowned. The platform should be glowing with magic. Yet it was not.

"This waygate is disabled" she murmured. It could also be broken, but she rather doubted that the Watchers would not have fixed it. Perhaps they could not? She flipped through her book, looking for a section of waygates. The table of contents had nothing, and in the minutes passed she could find no obvious reference to it. She looked around, but could not see any other path forward. Perhaps with the aid of the Lich King she could pass the Elune-infused walls, but she still had need of the Kaldorei to fight the Legion.

"Let us pass, Waygate." Whisperwind said approaching the damned thing. "The Priestess of Elune demands it."

The Waygate was suddenly awash by powerful magic, and a brilliant with light emanated upwards from the rune-marked circle. Sylvanas looked at her in surprise.

"There seems to be two kinds of magical protections here. Ones that can be activated by a singular person; it demands only person with authority to be there. And there are ones that require two people to bypass it. Those require both the people, and the authority."

Tyrande's earlier words echoed through Sylvanas' mind "This is not perfect, I admit, but it is also a shield against treason from the lowest of our people, and the highest. A defense that can be bypassed is no defense of all." She was struck with a certain sense of respect for her wisdom. This here showed the folly of such a defense. But the folly of Kaldorei would serve her well.

As she neared the Waygate, caution pierced her. She sensed not the light of Elune in it, but perhaps she should shield herself all the same. She looked around. Elune would certainly not tolerate defile of her priestess, but she had plenty an option. She waited for another of the Kaldorei to pass through the gateway, and moment before his feet touched the circle, she hid herself deep within his body. She needn't have been so cautious. The Waygate was a thing of arcane, not divinity. She removed herself from her body-shield being careful to not have him notice.

Once Whisperind appeared, Sylvanas was on the end of a mighty fierce glare. She had need of Whisperind for just a bit longer. An honest explanation would do well to dull her indignation.

"I did not wish to suffer a repeat of what happened earlier, Tyrande. I may be undead, but I can still feel pain. Incineration is not exactly pleasant."

Her expression softened. "About that, actu-"

"We have a task ahead of us."

Her expression was still kind, but her words were strong. "You cannot dodge this subject forever, Sylvanas. Before my very eyes you burned alive into near nothingness. I felt Elune's divinity assault you. And then..." her words faltered, and it was clear that she was struggling to describe what she had felt, "...a terrible, cold, unnatural darkness enveloped you. And then you were right."

She was not right. Anar'alah belore, what being would be after that experience? She attacked, for that was what came easy now. "And is that why you insist on discussing this? You wish to learn how I defied Elune, and strike me down in her name?"

Confusion washed over the Kaldorei woman's face. She was a great actress; Sylvanas almost believed that her feelings were honest.

"What are you on about? Sylvanas, I do not care how you survived. I just want to make sure you are alright."

Lies. She lied. Her duty to her Goddess triumphed whatever pitying concern she felt for the living. Sylvanas would not fall for her trickery.

"We're not discussing this, Priestess." she said definitely. "Illidan must be near. Let us get this mission over with."

Before Whisperwind could say anything else, Sylvanas flew on further north, then west. She stopped and looked around. The room was full of trees. And as she looked further north, she saw even more trees still. Her already flayed nerves were going into an overdrive. The trees would serve her, yes, but it is possible it would serve those damned Kaldorei Watchers better.

"Lady Windrunner!"

Her party seemed to have caught up fast. Or maybe she just spent too long in thought. She found it hard to tell. She turned her head to the druid that addressed her.

"I am certain this is the room that will lead us to the treasure we spoke off earlier."

"How about this. Sylvanas, give me the spellbook you used to disable the defenses. We will press on to Illidan. In the meanwhile, you go recover that treasure. As you said, we have little time, and you are more than capable of doing that alone."

She debated this for a few moments. Was this some sort of trap? But she could not trust the treasure to her, whatever it is. Let her weaken herself upon the enemies of this place if she wishes. She threw the book at her, and Whisperwind caught it easily. She paused for just a moment.

"Careful. The book has powerful enchantments on it." She would be no use to her as a slave to the book's magic.


Finding the secret pathway was not very hard after all. As she began suspecting early into her search, it was hidden within the trees. To a non-elf, the trees would have barred passage. Very long passageway south lead her to the area littered with more of those fire-obelisks in a semi-circle. They surrounded a statue of an elven woman. The statue was covered with exquisite mantle, and a fanciful dagger with a golden hilt that masterfully intertwined the gold into the blade's steel. The blade glowed a weak royal purple color. Her archery destroyed the obelisks, and she claimed the cloak and the dagger.

As she donned the cloak, it was if some mist in her mind thinned. More than that, she felt her magic grow stronger. She smiled. It would make a perfect gift for Jaina, who could make much better use of it. The dagger, however, she would keep. She felt its bubbling power.

She turned around and flew back as fast as she could. Then she flew north, to a split passage around a large stone statute of Elune. She took a left path, and flew further, past the unconscious watchers, and dead wildkin.

In the distance she saw trees come to life and attack Whisperwind's party while she fought off... Anar'alah belore, was that the son of Cenarius? It looked like they were evenly matched. In this moment, her respect for Tyrande grew, before the mistrust returned, but weaker. She felt the Lich King's presence in her mind, and she froze in place, stiffening.

"Do not let your fears control you, Sylvanas. The mantle you now wear increases your intelligence. It allowed you a brief glimpse through the paranoia that has consumed you. Slay this half beast, and proceed to awaken the rest of the druids. You must hurry. My champion is doing all he can to slow the Legion's advance, but Archimonde is dangerously close to the World Tree."

She nocked an arrow made of her dark magic. The unnatural cold of her master flew into the magical bolt. "I will grant you power, Sylvanas. Arthas assures me his trust in you is not misplaced. Prove it." The name of th- of him sent rage through her, and she fueled it into her attack.

The arrow exploded out of her bow, and flew faster than ever before –a black and blue flash- and it was upon the divine being. He swung at Whisperwind with his right arm, and as he did, her arrow flew under the arm, and into the left side of his torso. The pained cry – SHE WOUNDED HIM! - was ecstasy to her ears. From the point of impact, it spread like a black and blue plague.

She flew at him with all her might. "Now, Tyrande! Show him no mercy!" She need not have bothered. The woman had spared only half a moment for shock, and attacked him immediately after that.

With a wave of his hand, he forced more of the trees to come to life. She spared a few moments to destroy them as she was flying past. Their compatriots were armed, Tyrande must have found the armory, but their long imprisonment clearly took a toll on their skills.

He pointed his hand at the rest of the Kaldorei, and roots burst from the ground to constrict them in place, while the tree-creatures attempted to kill them. She made a sharp turn around to aid them. Some of the tree-creatures died to her dark arrows, others –when she got close– to her twin daggers.

She heard a yelp of pain from Tyrande, and as she turned, she saw her impact the ground. Whatever attack the enemy used having knocked her off her frostsaber tiger. Taking advantage of the situation, he raised his healthy arm high in the sky. The palm of his hand glowed with bright green energy - color of the freshest grass – and the aura it created stopped the spread of her initial attack in its place.

She blinked in surprise. He was practically inviting her to counter him. Her hands began glowing deep green, and she shot the beams at him. All that he healed himself, she consumed for herself. Slowly she saw the plague grow more and more on him, spreading despite his best efforts. There was little he could do. His left arm was disabled, and his right arm was concerned with healing.

It seemed that he too, understood that, as the aura of his spell grew blue, and he brought down his hand in her direction. The sky-blue bolts of moonlight crashed on her shimmering green oval shell. It quaked – a sign of the power his spell had - but held. She flew at him, and soon he was distracted by Tyrande's golden bolts, and flew behind him.

From her position, she saw Tyrande aim a shot at his head –something he countered by creating a mighty barrier of wind-, and so she helped her by plunging her dagger into the heart. He sensed it before she struck, but as he turned to counter her, Tyrande yelled out a command, and all of the druids cast a spell together –Tyrande must have helped rescue them from the vines when she was knocked down- that had one gigantic vine wrap itself around him and keep him in place.

The dagger slid in easily, and she plunged her new dagger in there too. The son of Cenarius roared in pain, before going silent. The roots released him, and he fell to the floor. With his last ounce of energy, he raised his head and looked at Whisperwind. "Turn away... before it's... too late." The moment passed, and he crumbled to the floor.

"Well done, Sylvanas. Arthas was right about you." the Lich King whispered in her head. "But your true task still lies before you."


Illidan felt a tremor in the complex ring of binding spells that locked him in his cell. Impossible. The flows of magic tremored again. The weaves of power that had bound him all these thousands of years were weakening. For the first time in a millennia, his powers responded to his call. What started as a slow trickle had evolved into an outpour of power. He placed his hand on the door. He might not get another chance.

The door burst open flying a foot before crashing on the ground. He exited his cell, and walked over to a weapon rack containing his Warglaives of Azzinoth. He felt secure now. With them in his hands, he could slay his way out of this prison.

"Illidan! Is that you?"

His heart stopped. It couldn't be. Out of everyone who he thought would be responsible for his newfound freedom, he didn't think it would be her.

"Tyrande... it is your voice! After all these ages spent in darkness, your voice is like the pure light of the moon upon my mind."

He cursed himself for his weakness, but he always found hard to deny her. He allowed hope to flourish. Perhaps she had realized the error of her ways, perhaps she had come with an apology on her lips, and freedom in her hand. To anyone else he would not have been so forgiving, but to her?

He turned to behold her. Long ago, Sargeras had burnt out his eyes, but his spectral sight could see all that his eyes once could, and so much more. In a millennia Tyrande's beauty did not fade at all. The only thing that soured her was the blood on her, and the reek of powerful magic. He didn't mind either at all.

"Lord Illidan." a different female voice addressed him. He turned to look at her, and almost took a step back. He was looking at a ghost of a Kaldorei archer. When he looked at her magic, he did not see much different. She was a dark imprint on the world of a woman who once was. The sight did not please him greatly.

"Lord?" Tyrande's sweet voice repeated. "Do you not swear loyalty to your prince?"

"Illidan was a hero of our people." she answered simply, very obviously avoiding the second part of the question. "Wasn't he once a hero of your people too? I am willing to show respect in his moment of freedom"

"Who are you, woman?" he cut straight to the chase. He could make plans around Tyrande, but she was an unknown. She seemed to be an ally of his, but appearances could always be deceiving. "I do not recognize you."

There was a respectful nod of the woman's head. "I am Sylvanas Windrunner, Ranger-General of Silvermoon. I am a decedent of the mighty Quel'dorei. When you served Queen Azshara we were but a sect of the Kaldorei. In years to follow we became our own distinct people."

Well, that was interesting. The last thing he expected to find here, or anywhere in Azeroth, were the remnants of Azshara loyalists. As long as this 'Windrunner' did not find out his true loyalties regarding Azshara she could be of great use to him. That is, of course, if her loyalty to a long dead queen transferred to himself.

"Surely, though," he asked a prodding question, "not all Quel'dorei are like you?"

There was a barely perceivable flinch, and an even shorter burst of anger. He only caught it because he was expecting it. Tyrande glared at him, and he grimaced. That's not a look he wanted to be directed at him. Apparently, this was not a topic to thread on lightly.

The ghastly woman stayed silent for many moments, but eventually answered. "No. Quel'dorei were a living race, and of a different appearance from Kaldorei. The Night Elves are taller, and where your skin is like the midnight sky, the skin of Quel'dorei was of a much lighter tone, like the kiss of sunlight."

"Were?" He could not help himself. So much had happened in the thousand years he stayed imprisoned, and there is so much he wished to know.

The answer came faster this time, sounding forced out. "Some other time maybe. As it relates to me, let's just say I am not an undead willingly, and leave it at that."

An undead? Such an interesting word. It must be of recent making, for where the rest of their talk was in a dialect of Darnassian, this was not, but the meaning was apparent. As was apparent that her race befell a tragedy. No matter. He was free now. He'd have the rest of his immortal live to pluck out her secrets. This 'prince' of hers, that Tyrande mentioned, could be a lead. Funny, he didn't know Azshara to have borne children.

"Perhaps we should talk of why we have come here." Tyrande suggested, very obviously diverting the topic. He eyed the dead Califax some way behind her. That topic must have been important indeed for Tyrande to slay Maiev's favourite Watcher. He burst out into laughter at the thought.

"There is no reason for laughter, Illidan." Tyrande said as she followed his gaze. "Or does the thought of your dead warden amuse you so?"

"Forgive me, Tyrande." He said as he tried to contain his laughter. "I have had little cause for mirth in these thousands of years since you imprisoned me. I'll take what laughter I can get, however much these brooding years have twisted my sense of humor."

"Ten thousand." she said.

His blood froze. Surely, he had misheard her. "What?"

"It has been more than ten thousand years since you have been imprisoned."

The weight of her words pressed down on him like the weight of the earth above their heads. "So long…" he whispered, voice soft, sounding almost lost. He looked back at the ancient vault of his prison; traced the weave of the spells that once held him. His heart grew hard with determination. He resolved to leave this place as soon as possible. It has stolen enough of his life already.

He looked back at her. "Why did you set me free, Tyrande?" He had to know. Her eyes adopted a honest look, and her voice sounded truthful. "The Burning Legion has returned, Illidan. Your people have need of you once more."

His fist clenched around his weapons. "My people need me? My people left me to rot." His voice was full of rage. Only now they come for him, when they have no choice. His fury did not blind him to the truth. Tyrande had more to say, but she needed him more than she needed to win the argument.

"Will you answer the call, Illidan?"

She had beckoned him like a dog, after casting him in this prison for ten thousand years, without so much as an apology. He was expected to follow. And worst of all…he wasn't sure he had it in him to refuse.

"Because I once cared for you, Tyrande, I will hunt down the demons. But I will never owe our people anything!"

She smiled at him, and it pierced his heart more painfully than the fel of Sargeras ever did. Despite his words, his heart still ached for her. "That is fine, Illidan. Help us save the world, and you can do what you wish with your freedom."

He realized that one thing had been bothering him all this time. If Tyrande is here…"Where is Malfurion? Where is my brother?"

The pained expression on her face told him all he needed to know, and it took all of his strength not to smile. Perhaps this was all turning out in his favor after all…