A Nerubian's Journey
Chapter 63

As Krivax stood on the deck of the Waterstrider and looked out over the port side of the ship, he couldn’t help but reflect that he really didn’t enjoy traveling by sea. As soon as he had the opportunity, he was connecting Kalimdor to Azjol-Nerub’s portal network.

Admittedly,the Waterstrider was much more comfortable than most human ships he’d traveled on. The ship was equipped with many sleeping chambers designed specifically for nerubians and was stocked with food fit for a nerubian palette. Krivax also wasn’t forced to duck under any too-short doorways or squeeze into any too-tight corridors. The representatives from the Eastern Kingdoms were much less comfortable. Trixie had complained that the stairs were too tall and some of the human representatives kept tripping on all of the silk webbing. However, Krivax wasn’t all that worried about it and had soothed any complaints in a diplomatic manner.

It would’ve honestly been a fairly enjoyable journey if there was just something interesting to do!

The only notable event during their journey had been when their ship was harassed by a small group of naga, but a few well-aimed shots from a rifle and a swoop by a swarm of nerubian fliers had sent them running.

It didn’t help that the lack of easily accessible leylines and magical disruptions caused by the Maelstrom prevented him from scrying anyone and checking in on his subordinates. As a result, Krivax had spent most of the journey holed up in his quarters and working on his golemancy. He had made some good progress and his personal project was coming along nicely, but he was about ready for their trip to be over.

Thankfully, the Waterstrider was a very fast ship despite its size and they had spotted land more than a week ago. Captain Yimit was now sailing the ship around the northern coast of Kalimdor to their destination. Yesterday, Eranikus had shifted into his true form and flown off to inform the night elves of their arrival. The dragon was supposed to have already returned but had still yet to do so.

According to the map of Kalimdor provided by Alexstrasza, the Waterstrider was nearing the night elf port town of Auberdine, and Krivax really wanted official permission to land before they made their final approach. He really didn’t want everyone on the ship being peppered with arrows by overzealous sentinels the moment they got in range.

“Ugh. How much longer is that old dragon going to take?” Trixie complained at his side, unknowingly echoing Krivax’s thoughts. “Gnomes aren’t meant to spend this long at sea. We’re built for innovation, invention, not… not bobbing around like corks in a tub!”

“Aren’t you a member of the Explorers’ League? I’d assume you would be used to this by now,” said Krivax, glancing down at his pink-haired friend.

“Sailing is the worst part of any expedition,” Trixie retorted, her expression sullen. “Meeting new peoples, going places no gnome has gone before, and delving into ancient ruins, those are all great. But sitting on a ship for six weeks and all this rocking back and forth on a boat is just maddening!”

“Well, it shouldn’t be much longer now,” said Krivax as he gestured toward the shores of Kalimdor. “I’m sure Eranikus will be back any moment.”

Just as Trixie was about to respond, they were interrupted by the sound of a gryphon’s shriek. Falstad Wildhammer and his mount Swiftwing generally preferred to fly over the ship with the nerubian fliers rather than rest on it, but they were now rapidly descending toward the deck. As soon as the gryphon landed with a heavy thud, Krivax made his way over to the pair and asked them what was wrong.

“Can’t say for certain, lad, but there’s a bit of a stir in the skies near the coast,” said Falstad, a shadow of worry passing over his features. “Swiftwing picked up on it first, sharp-eyed as she is. We took a wee detour and what do we find but a good half dozen o’ them night elves, sittin' on some odd winged deer-stags.”

Alarmed, Krivax turned his gaze in the direction Falstad indicated, his draconic eyes offering a superior range of sight than anyone else on the ship. It didn’t take long before he spotted the night elves Falstad had been referring to.

Six Sentinels riding atop armored hippogryphs were arrayed in formation, their mounts' wings cutting through the air with powerful strokes. Each sentinel, clad in purple and silver armor, carried wooden bows and looked ready for a conflict. Krivax was relieved to see that they weren’t making any move toward the ship and were merely watching from a distance.

“I think we should be fine,” Krivax announced after several moments, speaking to the crowd that had gathered on the deck. “They’re keeping their distance for now, and they haven’t drawn their weapons. These are likely just scouts sent after Eranikus notified them of our arrival.”

Rhonin hummed and cast a spell meant to sharpen his vision. “Not the nicest of welcoming parties I’ve ever seen.”

“Sending a few rangers mounted on dragonhawks sounds like something my own people would do,” said Vereesa Windrunner, her voice thoughtful as she ran her fingers through Swiftwing’s feathers. “I would take this more as a show of force than anything else. They’re as much on guard as we are.”

“We should be able to learn more once Eranikus returns. For now, the best course of action is to continue on to Auberdine,” said Krivax, already walking toward Captain Yimit to update her on the situation.

The Waterstrider continued unabated on its path toward Auberdine, the tension of the crew palpable as the hippogryph riders continued to follow from a distance. Any of the representatives without experience in combat was swiftly ushered below deck, and everyone else prepared for any emergency situations.

After enduring this tense atmosphere for several hours, Krivax couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief when he finally spotted Eranikus far in the distance. The green dragon was a welcome sight and the crew was quick to clear a section of the deck for him. Upon landing, Eranikus transformed back into his night elf form and Krivax immediately went to greet him.

“Welcome back, Eranikus. What news do you bring from the night elves?” asked Krivax, skipping the pleasantries and getting straight to business.

“I apologize for my late return. The kaldorei were a little more… recalcitrant than I had hoped, but they are permitting your ship to dock at Auberdine,” Eranikus said, his voice conveying a sense of fatigue. “However, you should expect a somewhat frosty expression. The endorsements of Ysera and I can only go so far when you represent many of the things the kaldorei fear and hate.”

Krivax nodded solemnly. Ysera had made it clear that the kaldorei were very hostile to anyone who wielded arcane magic and would be particularly suspicious of nerubians in general. Their war against Ahn’Qiraj was the worst conflict they’d seen since the War of the Ancients, and nerubians resembled them a great deal.

“I understand. We will do everything we can to show the night elves that we mean no harm,” said Krivax.

“Good,” Eranikus replied, nodding in approval. “Remember, the kaldorei have not had any meaningful interactions with foreign nations since the War of the Ancients. The actions of yourself and the representatives sent by the Eastern Kingdoms will significantly influence how they view the outside world moving forward. It is crucial that you make a good impression.”

Way to pile on the pressure…

“Thank you for your help, Eranikus. We wouldn’t have gotten this far without you,” said Krivax, his voice steady despite his apprehension.

“Are there any sharp points or reefs that we need to watch out for on the approach?” Captain Yimit asked anxiously, looking at the map provided by Alexstrazsa. “I would prefer to arrive in daylight and use the nerubian fliers to scout out a safe path into the port if possible.”

“I did not see any dangerous rocks close to the harbor on my way in,” Eranikus replied. “As long as the nerubian fliers stay within two ship lengths of the Waterstrider, you should be fine.”

With the green dragon’s report, the crew seemed to relax a fraction and the tension eased as they sailed toward Auberdine. The sentinel hippogryph riders remained a silent escort, vigilantly watching the ship as they neared their destination.

As the sun was just beginning to dip beneath the horizon, Krivax finally caught sight of the town they would be docking in. It was immediately clear to him that Auberdine was not a large city. Instead, it was a modest coastal town that was completely surrounded by hills and trees bigger than any Krivax had ever seen. The town was filled with wooden buildings with low-slung, arched roofs that seemed distinctly oriental to him. Its streets were paved with stone and its bridges were illuminated with lamps.

Auberdine would likely be one of the most beautiful and tranquil towns that Krivax had ever seen, if not for the sizable military force waiting for them by the docks.

“Just once, I’d like to meet elves that are actually friendly…” murmured Trixie as she adjusted the settings of her goggles.

“I’d suggest you continue waiting,” Vereesa Windrunner said tiredly. “It feels like I never left home.”

Krivax gave an absentminded grunt of agreement, still a bit stunned by what he was seeing. The kaldorei were greeting them with an entire company of sentinels riding massive sabercats, two dozen hippogriff riders, and two giant treelike beings that Krivax recognized as Ancients of War. If things came down to a fight, there was no doubt that the kaldorei would make quick work of them.

And Krivax knew for a fact that much more than this existed on the continent, this force was most likely just what they could gather up on short notice.

“They certainly know how to make an impression,” Krivax commented dryly as he surveyed the waiting forces.

“Yes, the kaldorei have always been prone to displays of power. It has generally proven to be an effective deterrent,” Eranikus said, his voice calm.

Captain Yimit smoothly maneuvered the Waterstrider to the dock despite the tense atmosphere. As the ship dropped anchor and finally came to rest, the crew quickly set about securing the vessel and lowering the gangway.

“Eranikus and I will be speaking with the night elves first,” Krivax announced, his voice carrying over the deck. This situation was much more tense than he had expected and Krivax didn’t want to worry about someone causing a diplomatic incident before they could make a good first impression. “Everyone else should remain on the ship until we return. Stay calm and do nothing that could be construed as aggressive.”

A chorus of agreements and nods met his words. He knew there would be some who didn’t like being sidelined, but this was ultimately Azjol-Nerub’s expedition. Besides, no one was eager to jeopardize the delicate diplomatic situation they found themselves in.

Krivax, followed by Eranikus and surrounded by his guards, descended down the gangway as they stepped foot onto the dock. A hush fell over the crowd of night elves as they saw Krivax’s full form, and he could even see many of them tightening their grips on their weapons.

There were times that he enjoyed being a fourteen-foot-tall intimidating spider-dragon-person, but this wasn’t one of them. Ignoring their reactions as best he could, Krivax advanced toward the front line of sentinels. As he approached, a grim-faced night elf woman riding a fierce sabercat directed her mount forward.

The woman had silver eyes, long blue hair, and wore armor no different from the rest of the Sentinels, but her presence and the glances the others were sent to her made it clear that she was in command. She watched Krivax approach with a stern, unreadable expression. When they were just a few feet apart, the woman gestured for him to stop and he quickly complied, trying his hardest to project an aura of peaceful intent.

“I am Shandris Feathermoon, General of the Sentinel Army,” the night elf introduced herself in the kaldorei language, her voice sharp and cold. “We have been… warned of your arrival, creature. Introduce yourself and state your intentions.”

Speaking in the kaldorei tongue with what he was sure was a horrible accent, he replied. “I am Krivax, an ambassador from Azjol-Nerub. My kingdom hopes for peace and cooperation.”

A multitude of expressions passed over the sentinel's face before finally settling on mild distaste. “You speak our tongue with the accent of a quel’dorei. It is unsettling.”

Well excuse me, lady. I’d love to hear you try to speak nerubian, Krivax thought mulishly.

Finding a way to learn the kaldorei language in the Eastern Kingdoms wasn’t an easy endeavor. There were certainly no dictionaries translating nerubian or common to kaldorei, but there were a few books in Quel’thalas documenting the differences between kaldorei and thalassian, the language of the high elves. Krivax was surprised to learn that the two civilizations had a few instances of contact over the millennia.

Not only that but there was a significant amount of overlap between the two languages despite their people having separated so long ago. Given the long lifespans of the races involved, that wasn’t particularly surprising. Krasus had easily been able to get his hands on one of those books and had given him some basic lessons on the language. From there, Krivax had taken it upon himself to learn as much of the kaldorei language as he could in whatever free time he had.

He was already passable with thalassian, so Krivax felt like he had a good enough understanding of the language. He always had the option to fall back on translation magic, but he hoped his show of effort would make a good impression on the night elves.

“I apologize if my accent is disturbing. I intend no offense,” Krivax responded as diplomatically as he could, trying to project calm and understanding. “We are here with peaceful intentions and wish to establish contact with the kaldorei.”

“Azjol-Nerub has shown itself to be a responsible nation of Azeroth and Krivax has done much to help the Dragonflights,” said Eranikus, offering his endorsement. “He has received the approval of the Dragon Queen along with the Mother of Dreams, and will do nothing to hurt the kaldorei.”

Their words were greeted with a tense silence. Shandris’ expression didn’t soften, but it didn’t harden either.

“I suppose that you can speak our language at all proves that you are no mindless beast,” said Shandris after several moments. “Were it my decision, you would not be allowed within our sacred forests. Fortunately for you, it is not. Ysera has given you her approval and the leaders of my people have given their assent to speak with you. But know that if you or any of those with you threaten the people of these lands, you will not leave here alive.”

Krivax looked deep into the sentinel’s eyes and knew she meant every word. “I understand, General Feathermoon. None of us have any intentions of causing any harm.”

Shandris Feathermoon stared at him for a long moment before finally nodding and reaching to a horn hanging from her side, “We will see, Krivax of Azjol-Nerub.”

With that, he watched in confusion as she blew a loud resonating tone from her horn that echoed throughout the area. Krivax spotted movement in the treeline behind Auberdine a few moments later and instantly stretched his senses outward. Krivax was almost immediately blinded as he felt the Life energy of the many people hiding beyond, presumably more sentinels.

However, one individual stood out from the rest, a figure who radiated an immense amount of Life energy that was only surpassed by what he had felt from the Aspects. Time seemed to halt as Cenarius, Lord of the Groves, stepped out of the forest.

Despite them both being about the same height, Krivax couldn’t help but feel a bit small compared to the demigod. Cenarius’ upper body was broad and muscular, resembling a night elf male aside from the arms that resembled gnarled talons of wood and his thick moss-green mane that was crowned by a pair of massive antlers. His lower body was that of a stag, with four nimble hooves that moved with a grace that seemed unnatural.

The night elf forces parted as Cenarius approached, their eyes filled with reverence and respect. Once he reached the dock, the demigod’s gold-colored eyes swept across the ship and its crew before finally settling on Krivax with a look of open curiosity.

“Greetings, Krivax of Azjol-Nerub,” Cenarius said, his voice deep and resonating as it echoed throughout the port. “High Priestess Tyrande and I have both heard much of you from Ysera. I’m led to believe that many important events have occurred outside the borders of these forests in recent years."

Krivax bowed his head respectfully. “That is indeed the case, Lord Cenarius. Aside from establishing a dialogue between Azjol-Nerub and the kaldorei, I also hoped to speak to your people about several threats relevant to the safety of Azeroth. My people believe we have much to gain from cooperation, and much to lose from isolation.”

Cenarius regarded him for a moment before nodding solemnly. “It is rare that the Life-Binder would approve of a mortal enough to share a portion of her power. Coupled with the recent increased activity of the Aspects as well as their recent actions in Maraudon, I believe we will indeed have much to talk about.”

Maraudon? What did they do there? Krivax wondered curiously.

“But that is a conversation for later,” Cenarius said before turning to Shandris. “General Feathermoon, please see to it that our guests are provided with suitable accommodations. They have journeyed from afar and would surely appreciate the opportunity to rest.”

Shandris nodded, her expression stern but no longer no openly hostile. “As you command, Lord Cenarius.”

“We will speak after your people are settled. I suggest you make clear to them that there will be severe consequences if any of them do anything to harm these lands,” said Cenarius. The demigod gave Krivax one last measuring look before turning around and silently walking back into the forest.

The kaldorei were obviously still wary of them, but the fact that Cenarius had come to speak with them seemed to calm them down somewhat.

With that, the General turned back to Krivax. “You and the rest of the outsiders will be provided with accommodations in Auberdine. It is a small town, but we have prepared ahead of your arrival. Your ship will be authorized to stay docked here, but none of your people will be permitted to leave the town without an escort. Do you understand?”

Krivax nodded. “Yes, General. We understand and will abide by your rules. Thank you.”

General Feathermoon signaled to some of her sentinels and they quickly marched off, presumably to prepare the accommodations.

“Well, that went fairly well,” Eranikus commented as they began making their way back to the ship. “Cenarius seems well-disposed towards you.”

“That was well-disposed?” Krivax asked with disbelief. “If so, then I really don’t want to see him when he’s angry.”

“No, you don't,” Eranikus said simply.

At the green dragon’s confirmation, Krivax swore to himself that he would keep an extra close eye on the representatives from the Eastern Kingdoms. He had a feeling that the consequences of any cultural miscommunication would be more than just a little embarrassment.

Once he returned to the ship, Krivax was greeted with a flurry of questions from everyone. He quickly explained the situation and they all seemed to relax at the news that they would be allowed to peacefully disembark and rest in the town.

“Just remember to be respectful and don’t do anything that could offend the kaldorei,” Krivax reminded the group before turning to Rhonin. “Also, keep any displays of magic to a minimum. The kaldorei aren’t particularly fond of arcane magic.”

Krivax’s words were greeted with a round of nods and murmurs of agreement. As he finished giving his final reminders, the crew and passengers of the Waterstrider began to disembark. They were greeted by an escort of sentinels who led them into the town.

Their journey through Auberdine was an interesting experience. The streets were relatively clear with the majority of the kaldorei civilians retreating to the safety of their homes. As they made their way through the town, Krivax noticed that the kaldorei watching them from the shadows were all adult females with no men or children to be seen. He had already known that kaldorei were immortals who stratified their society by gender, but seeing it for himself was a different experience.

He also noticed many of the kaldorei watching most of them with expressions of extreme curiosity, although the expressions directed at Vereesa and himself were much more disdainful. After a short walk, they were led to a large wooden building that was presumably some kind of inn. General Feathermoon was waiting for them, flanked by two other sentinels.

“These are your accommodations. You will stay here until the morning,” she said, gesturing to the building behind her. “We have done our best to make them suitable for your stay. There are provisions inside, and meals will be provided at regular intervals. If you require anything, you will ask one of the sentinels stationed outside the inn.”

With that, Shandris left with her sentinels and their group made their way into the inn. The accommodations were simple but comfortable, with soft beds and a common area that had been stocked with fresh food, mostly fish and unfamiliar fruits. They spent the next few hours settling in and it wasn’t long before a wave of tiredness began to wash over them.

As night descended over Auberdine, everyone retired to their rooms one by one. However, Krivax hadn’t felt the need to sleep ever since he had been empowered by Alexstrasza, so he decided to stay in the common area and continue his studies until the morning. At least, that was his plan until a sentinel silently stepped into the inn and approached him.

“Krivax of Azjol-Nerub,” the sentinel greeted, her voice neutral. “Lord Cenarius requests your presence at the edge of the forest.”

Krivax was surprised at the unexpected request but nodded in acceptance. “Very well, lead the way.”

Several members of his personal guard tried to follow, but Krivax ordered them to stay behind, which they reluctantly did. He followed the sentinel through the quiet town, the gentle glow of Auberdine’s many lanterns illuminating their path. The sentinel led him to the edge of the forest, where the massive form of Cenarius was patiently waiting for him.

“Thank you, Shylora. You may leave us,” said Cenarius. The sentinel looked as if she wanted to protest, but soon thought better of it and merely bowed before departing.

As she left, Krivax could sense the many sentinels who had been watching them from the shadows also begin to withdraw.

Once they were truly alone, the demigod turned his golden eyes onto Krivax and regarded him with an inscrutable expression. “Greetings. My apologies for the late summons, but there are several matters that I wish to discuss with you in private related to information Ysera has recently shared with me.”

“Uh… If I may ask, what exactly did Ysera tell you about me?” Krivax asked nervously.

“Everything,” said Cenarius, his expression impassive as he stared at Krivax. “She has informed me about your reincarnation and your prophetic predictions of Azeroth’s future.”

“I see. Has she told anyone else?” asked Krivax, wondering just how many people the Aspects had shared his secrets with without informing him.

“No. She informed High Priestess Tyrande that you were a powerful prophet, but only I was told the full story,” Cenarius said, his gaze still locked onto Krivax. “Ysera and I share a bond that someone as young as yourself couldn’t hope to understand. Her sharing this information with me is vital for Azeroth’s future and is one of the only reasons that your people were permitted entry to our lands. I would suggest you forgive her for divulging your secrets.”

Krivax let out a sigh of relief. He didn’t like that the Aspects were telling people about him without first informing him, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He was just glad that they at least seemed not to be telling anyone aside from their closest confidants.

Krivax pushed away his annoyance and decided to move on. “I understand, Lord Cenarius. What is it that you wished to discuss?”

“You are probably unaware, but the information that you shared with Aspects has already resulted in several major events that will heavily affect kaldorei society,” Cenarius explained, his gaze becoming serious. “I wished to speak with you personally so that I could ask your opinion on several important matters, including Theradras, Fandral Staghelm, and Illidan Stormrage…”

Oh boy…

Malygos carefully studied the wards in front of him and was reluctantly impressed.

When the little prophet first told him about the Guardian of Tirisfal, he hadn’t believed they would be as powerful as the nerubian described. Now that he was standing outside of Karazhan, the abandoned mage tower that once belonged to Medivh, he was beginning to see the truth of the little prophet’s words.

The wards were constructed in such a way that bypassing them would be impossible for all but the most powerful mages on Azeroth. Of course, they relied on being connected to the largest leyline nexus in the Eastern Kingdoms, but the former Guardian of Tirisfal had still clearly been more skilled in magic than the vast majority of mages.

Unfortunately for Medivh, Malygos was more than capable of dismantling the wards. He considered how he would go about doing so before deciding to slowly open an entrance through the wards rather than quickly destroying them. It had been a long time since Malygos had seen such impressive and unfamiliar magic, and he found himself uncharacteristically excited as he got to work.

Besides, Malygos had been far too busy recently and he wasn’t looking forward to returning to his duties. He and Archaedas had been attempting to create a method to purify Void corruption from afflicted beings without causing them harm, and they had made little progress. Uldaman possessed an artifact capable of doing so named the ‘Eye of the Watchers,’ but it also required the complete restructuring of the target’s soul.

Not only that but Malygos was also forced to provide aid to Korialstrasz for his journey to Draenor as well as help dispose of the C’thrax killed by the mortals. Malygos had hoped he would be able to sleep for a few years after he finally killed Neltharion, but there was simply too much to do.

Suffice it to say, the chance to immerse himself in an entertaining challenge like the one before him was a welcome diversion. After some time, Malygos smirked triumphantly and stepped through the small breach he had created in the wards before making his way into the abandoned tower.

He could feel a faint presence take note of him the moment he entered Karazhan, but Malygos paid it no mind. It was no threat in its current state and only served to confirm that his plan would work as intended.

The air inside Karazhan was stale and lifeless, a far cry from the vibrant energy that thrummed through the Nexus. Still, Malygos had to give credit when it was due. The tower itself was layered with powerful magic and was a testament to the prowess of its former master. Medivh must have truly been a capable mage, for a mortal at least.

Malygos returned his attention to the present and began making his way through Karazhan. He had come here for a reason and couldn’t afford to waste all day. Malygos mostly ignored the sights from that point forward, dismantling any ward in his path and banishing the irritating ghosts that haunted the tower. Once the shades in the tower realized how trivial it was for Malygos to destroy them, they soon ceased appearing in front of him.

He made a note of several… interesting anomalies such as a malfunctioning Titanic Watcher that the mortal had stashed away and a group of undead that seemed to be acting in some manner of play. Malygos was very interested in returning to examine both of them in the future but now was not the time. Once he was halfway through the tower, Malygos was forced to destroy a surprisingly sturdy golem and even discovered a satyr of all things hiding behind a bookshelf in the library.

As he killed the creature and its pet demons, Malygos was baffled as to how it even managed to find its way into Karazhan. Satyrs were demonic creatures native only to Kalimdor, so there was no reason for it to be here.

Sargeras must have summoned it as a servant while he was possessing the mortal’s body, Malygos eventually concluded. This wretched tower makes no sense.

Malygos continued through the library as he made his way up the tower, passing a fairly impressive observatory and a magical defense system that resembled a game of chess. By the time he finally reached his destination, Malygos was relieved that he didn’t need to experience any more of the nonsensical mage tower.

As he looked around, Malygos had to admit that Medivh had done well when constructing his personal chambers. The mortal had redirected much of the energy being produced by the nearby leylines directly into the room, presumably to fuel his spells. This made it the perfect place for Malygos to perform the ritual he had traveled so far to conduct.

The fact that the room itself had a sympathetic connection to Medivh that he could exploit only made it more convenient.

With a wave of his hand, Malygos began to rearrange the room to suit his needs. He dismissed the quaint human furniture and summoned a circle of ancient draconic runes in the center of the room. Almost immediately, he could feel the potent energy of the leylines surge toward his summoning circle and suffuse it with arcane energy.

Malygos took a moment to re-examine the runes. The ritual that he was about to conduct was far different from what he was normally used to, and he wanted to be sure everything was correct. Of course, Malygos rarely made mistakes and the runes were inscribed correctly. Seeing no reason to delay any further, the Aspect of Magic began to weave his spell.

The runes seamlessly responded to his will, their energies intertwining with the leyline nexus and connecting him to its power. The room began to hum with arcane energy, the air crackled with power, and the very fabric of reality seemed to ripple and distort around Malygos. As the layers of reality weakened, he ruthlessly latched on to the faint presence he had felt watching him since the moment he stepped into Karazhan and began to draw it toward the circle.

The presence’s resistance was impressive but was no match for Malygos’ immense power. With a final burst of effort, he broke through the resistance and forced his target into the summoning circle.

Suddenly, the room stilled. The wild energy that had been coursing through the room a moment ago seemed to be sucked into the circle, leaving an eerie calm. An ethereal form slowly began to materialize, becoming more solid with each passing moment.

Soon, standing in the circle was the spectral image of the former Guardian of Tirisfal himself, Medivh. While his form was translucent and wavered slightly, his eyes were sharp and focused as he warily studied Malygos.

“Why have you summoned me, Aspect of Magic?” Medivh’s spectral voice echoed throughout the room, the sound seeming to come from all directions at once. “How did you know that I had not yet passed on?”

Malygos met Medivh’s gaze unflinchingly. He had thought long and hard about what he had learned from the little prophet and how he could best save Azeroth. It was now time to begin putting his plan into action. There would come a time that Azeroth would need to bring the fight to the Legion, and Medivh’s knowledge of Sargeras and the Dark Portal would be invaluable. Sᴇaʀᴄh the Nʘvᴇl(F)ire.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

“Azeroth needs you, mortal,” Malygos said, his voice cool and steady. “The portal you opened is a permanent vulnerability that the Burning Legion will inevitably find a way to exploit. You have also had more contact with Sargeras than any living being on Azeroth. If your title means anything at all to you, then you will cease uselessly wandering this world as a phantom and help us prepare against the Legion.”

Medivh’s spectral form flickered and his eyes narrowed. “If you are so familiar with what I have done, then you know why I have no right to return. I was supposed to be the protector of this world and instead, I was its greatest betrayer.”

Malygos raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You are arrogant if you truly consider yourself Azeroth’s greatest betrayer. I have known several far greater.”

“Still, I have caused untold harm to this world,” Medivh responded, his eyes taking on a despondency that Malygos found uncomfortably familiar. “My hubris allowed Sargeras to use me as his puppet. How could I trust myself to return to the land of the living? How can you be sure that I am not still under his influence, Aspect of Magic?”

According to the little prophet, Medivh had been resurrected several years into the future and had not been under the control of the Legion. There was no guarantee that would be the case this time, but it was a risk Malygos was willing to take.

“Do not misunderstand, mortal. Your fate as Sargeras’ puppet was sealed from the moment you were possessed. There was nothing anyone could have done to stop it,” said Malygos, his voice cold and unyielding. “However, it is your choices now, free from the Legion’s influence, that will define you. It was a difficult lesson for me to learn, but wallowing in guilt and self-pity does nothing but harm those you care for.”

Medivh’s spectral form flickered again, but he did not respond. Malygos studied him for a moment before continuing.

“Your guilt is understandable, but it is also irrelevant,” Malygos said, his voice echoing throughout the chamber. “Azeroth will soon face challenges that may end in its destruction. Your knowledge, insight, and power could all be instrumental in its defense. Whether you deserve to return or not does not matter. The only thing that matters is whether you can put aside your guilt and do what is necessary. Azeroth needs you. It needs us. We cannot afford to be paralyzed by guilt and self-loathing. Not anymore.”

The spectral form of Medivh was silent once again, his gaze distant as he mulled over Malygos’ words. After several long moments of silence, Medivh finally spoke. “There is truth in your words, Malygos. My guilt… it does not absolve me of my responsibilities.”

“It does not,” Malygos agreed.

“If I am to agree, then I will need you to promise one thing,” said Medivh, turning back to Malygos. “If I ever again show signs of corruption, I want you to swear that you will kill me immediately.”

“As you wish, mortal. I swear it,” Malygos said immediately. He would have done so regardless.

“Very well. I will aid you in protecting Azeroth,” said Medivh, a hint of resolve slowly forming in his eyes. “I can see that there is a second portion of this ritual designed to return me to the land of the living. I will not fight it, Aspect of Magic.”

Malygos was vaguely impressed that the mortal could read his runes. He had been fully prepared to resurrect the mortal and bind him against his will if necessary, but Malygos was glad it wasn’t necessary. “Good. Then let us begin.”

With the mortal’s agreement, Malygos began the second portion of the ritual. Although it was far more difficult to perform necromancy with arcane magic than death magic, the ritual was well within Malygos’ capabilities. It helped that Medivh had not truly died and instead existed within the realm between the living and the dead.

If he had fully passed on or had been dead for a significant amount of time, not even Malygos would have been able to resurrect him. The process was taxing, but he eventually felt the leylines shift as the spell neared completion.

Medivh’s form ceased its wavering and slowly grew more solid until the former Guardian of Tirisfal was standing in front of Malygos, alive once more.

“Now you have no excuse not to redeem yourself, mortal. There is much work that needs to be done.”

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