Chapter 16

Evelodie woke up groggy, her head heavy with the remnants of sleep and the lingering weight of her restless thoughts from the night before. The morning light streamed through the small window of her quarters, far too bright for her liking. She groaned, burying her face in the pillow for a moment longer, trying to stave off the inevitable need to get up. She was never a morning person, and today was no exception.

Why do mornings always have to be so loud? she thought irritably, pushing herself up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

With a resigned sigh, Evelodie dragged herself to the washbasin and splashed cold water on her face. It helped, if only a little. As she brushed her hair and tied it back, the sounds of commotion outside gradually reached her ears. The usual morning chatter in the Mage Quarter seemed different today—more urgent, more alarmed.

She pulled on her robes, her movements slow and reluctant, then stepped out of her quarters to find out what was going on.

As soon as she opened the door, the noise hit her fully: mages talking rapidly, their voices carrying a mix of disbelief and confusion. Evelodie's brow furrowed as she caught snippets of conversation. Words like tidal wave and flood floated through the air, each phrase tinged with an unsettling sense of dread.

She approached a group of mages who were gathered near the main steps of the Mage Tower, their faces pale and anxious. "What's going on?" Evelodie asked, her voice still rough with sleep.

One of the mages, a young apprentice with wide eyes, turned to her. "Haven't you heard? There was a massive tidal wave near the coast this morning," he said, his tone filled with a mixture of shock and urgency. "It hit Menethil Harbor hard."

Evelodie's eyes widened. "Menethil Harbor?" she repeated, her grogginess quickly fading in the face of the news. "Is it… is everyone there all right?"

The apprentice shook his head, clearly shaken. "They're still assessing the damage, but it's bad," he said grimly. "And it's not just Menethil. We've received reports that Thousand Needles was completely flooded as well."

Evelodie felt a chill run down her spine. Thousand Needles—a place she had heard stories of, a rugged canyon filled with towering spires and vast mesas. To think of it flooded seemed almost impossible. "How could this happen?" she asked, her voice filled with disbelief.

Another mage, older and more experienced, joined the conversation. "No one knows," he said, his expression grim. "The seas have become restless, unpredictable. We suspect something powerful is behind it, but there's no confirmation yet. The elemental disturbances are growing worse each day."

Evelodie's thoughts raced. The visions she had been having—the fires, the chaos, the sense of impending doom—now felt more urgent than ever. She had hoped they were just dreams, but this… this was real. And it was happening faster than anyone had anticipated.

"Do they think it's connected to the earthquakes?" Evelodie asked, recalling the tremors that had been felt across Azeroth in recent weeks.

The older mage nodded. "Yes, they do," he replied solemnly. "There's a growing concern that the world itself is shifting, as if the elements are in upheaval."

Evelodie's heart sank. The dark foreboding that had haunted her visions now felt like a cold, hard reality. The elemental chaos was no longer just a threat on the horizon—it was here, reshaping the world with each passing moment.

Her hand instinctively moved to her satchel, feeling for the small wand she always carried. "I need to find out more," she said, half to herself, half to the mages around her. "If there's a pattern, maybe we can figure out what's coming next."

The young apprentice looked at her with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. "Do you really think you can make sense of it?" he asked.

Evelodie's eyes hardened with determination. "I have to try," she said firmly. "Because if this is just the beginning, then we need to be ready for whatever's coming next."

She hurried down the steps, her grogginess completely gone now, replaced by a sense of urgency she hadn't felt in years. The chaotic visions that had once seemed like distant warnings now felt all too real. She knew she needed answers, and fast.

But even as she made her way through the busy streets of Stormwind, a sense of dread lingered. The tidal wave, the floods, the restless earth—these were not isolated events. They were signs of a much larger disaster looming over Azeroth.

And somewhere deep down, Evelodie knew that whatever was coming was beyond anything she or the others had ever faced before.

With a renewed sense of urgency, Evelodie made her way toward the refugee camp just outside Stormwind's main gates. Her robes billowed around her as she hurried through the bustling streets, weaving past merchants and citizens who were still buzzing with the morning's shocking news. The tidal waves, the floods—it was clear to everyone that the world was unraveling, and the sense of fear was almost palpable in the air.

I have to find Gorral, she thought, her determination driving her forward. If anyone understands what's at stake, it's him.

As she reached the edge of the camp, she spotted Gorral almost immediately. He was crouched down in the midst of a small, makeshift clearing, a wide smile on his face as he playfully chased Hanna and Patricia, Athana's younger sisters. The girls were laughing, their spirits momentarily lifted by Gorral's playful demeanor. For a brief moment, it was as if the chaos of the world had been put on hold.

Evelodie paused, watching the scene unfold. It was a rare sight—Gorral, once a fearsome warrior and now a haunted man bearing the curse of the Worgen, smiling without reservation. His movements were quick and agile, his lean frame still carrying the residual strength of the curse that lingered even in his human form.

She couldn't help but feel a twinge of warmth at the sight of him being so gentle with the girls. It was a reminder that despite everything he had endured, there was still a deep well of kindness within him.

But just as she was about to call out to him, the ground beneath her feet suddenly trembled. It was a deep, violent shaking, more intense than any of the previous tremors they had felt. Evelodie staggered, grabbing onto a nearby tent post for support, her eyes wide with shock.

The camp fell silent for a moment as everyone registered the sudden quake. Then, a low, guttural roar echoed through the air—a sound so loud and primal that it seemed to pierce the very sky. The refugees stopped in their tracks, their faces filled with confusion and mounting terror.

Evelodie's blood ran cold. She knew that sound, though she had never heard it before. It was the sound from her nightmares, the one that had haunted her visions.

It was Deathwing.

Gorral, sensing the change in the air, immediately stood up, his expression turning from playful to alert in an instant. He looked up, scanning the sky, his eyes narrowing with a mixture of recognition and dread.

"What in the name of the Light is that?" he shouted, grabbing Hanna and Patricia protectively and pulling them close.

Evelodie ran toward him, her voice urgent. "It's him!" she cried. "Deathwing—he's here!"

The roar grew louder, filling the air with a terrible, metallic screech that seemed to vibrate within their very bones. The sky above Stormwind darkened unnaturally, as if the sun itself had been blotted out. The massive form of Deathwing, the blackened, twisted Aspect of Earth, descended upon the city, his massive, armored wings casting long shadows over the landscape.

His scales glowed with molten fury, the enchanted plates on his body pulsing with barely-contained heat. As Deathwing swept over the city, a wave of fire erupted in his wake, engulfing parts of the park and the Cathedral District. The air was filled with screams and the acrid smell of burning wood and stone.

Gorral's eyes were wide, a mixture of rage and horror flashing across his face. "Get the girls out of here!" he shouted, his voice raw with urgency. "Get them to safety, Evelodie!"

Evelodie hesitated, torn between helping Gorral and protecting the girls. Hanna and Patricia were already clinging to her robes, their eyes filled with terror. "Come on," she urged, her voice as calm as she could make it despite her racing heart. "We have to move—now!"

She grabbed the girls' hands, leading them toward the inner gates of Stormwind as fast as she could. Behind her, she could hear Gorral shouting orders to other refugees, trying to organize some semblance of an evacuation amidst the chaos.

But Deathwing's wrath was relentless. Fire rained down from above, consuming buildings and sending the citizens of Stormwind into a panicked frenzy. Guards rushed to contain the damage, but it was clear that the city was quickly being overwhelmed.

Evelodie glanced back, her eyes locking onto Gorral's for a fleeting moment. The determination in his gaze was fierce, but there was also an underlying sense of despair—an acknowledgment that this battle was beyond anything they had faced before.

"Stay strong!" he shouted to her, his voice carrying over the chaos. "Get them to safety!"

Evelodie nodded, her heart heavy as she led the girls further into the city. She could feel the heat of the flames at her back, hear the roar of Deathwing's fury above her, and sense the terror of the people around her.

As she ran, she felt a dark realization settling over her. The visions she had seen, the warnings that had haunted her dreams, were no longer just predictions—they were happening, here and now. And she knew, deep down, that this was only the beginning.

Deathwing had come, and Azeroth would never be the same.