The winds over Eversong Woods were calm that morning, yet Leylin felt an unease he could not quite dispel. It was not born of danger, he had walked through wars far worse but of inevitability.
Some paths, once revealed, could not be avoided. Alleria found him in the study just after dawn.
She did not need to speak at first. The way she stood by the doorway, back straight, expression composed yet burning with quiet resolve, told him everything.
"The call has come," she said at last. "King Terenas is forming an expedition. Through the Dark Portal."
Leylin closed the tome in his hands without marking the page.
"I know," he replied softly.
Alleria blinked, surprised. "You already heard?"
Leylin nodded. "Hmm. And… some events in the world are too loud to remain hidden."
She studied him for a moment, then smiled faintly. "Then you also know I've already agreed."
He did not argue. He never intended to. Stopping Alleria Windrunner from answering a call like this would be like asking the wind not to blow or the stars not to burn.
She was a ranger, a soldier, a protector. Draenor was unfinished business not just for the Alliance, but for her.
"I won't ask you to stay," Leylin said. "But I will prepare you."
That made her laugh softly. "I expected nothing less."
—
For the next several days, Leylin worked in near silence.
In a secluded chamber layered with wards; some from the Highborne, some from the Nightborne, others entirely his own, arcane sigils floated like slow-moving constellations. At the center hovered a single object: a slender silver necklace, its chain delicate, its crystal core pulsing faintly with blue-violet light.
Alleria watched from the doorway more than once, though she never interrupted. Leylin had poured into it everything he had learned beneath the eternal night of Suramar.
"This isn't just an enchantment," he explained to her on the final evening. "It's a layered system."
He lifted the necklace and let it settle into his palm.
"First function: a mana barrier. It activates automatically when you encounter lethal force—physical or magical. It adapts, not just blocks. And once broken, it will regenerate on its own."
Alleria raised an eyebrow. "That alone would make every magister in Silvermoon jealous."
Leylin smiled faintly. "That's only the surface."
He touched the crystal, and it shimmered.
"The second function is more important to me. Wherever you are, whatever world you're in, it will transmit your spatial coordinates to me. If needed… I can open a portal directly to you."
Her expression softened.
"So even if I'm beyond the Dark Portal…"
"I'll still find you," he said quietly.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Alleria stepped closer and gently took the necklace from his hand. "You really don't believe in half measures, do you?"
"I've lost enough people to learn better."
She clasped the necklace around her neck herself, the crystal resting just above her heart.
"Thank you," she said, voice low. "I'll come back. I promise."
Leylin met her gaze. "I know."
—
The Alliance Expedition's assembly point lay near the Blasted Lands, where the sky itself seemed wounded. Soldiers camped in orderly rows, banners snapping in the hot wind.
The air buzzed with anticipation and dread. Leylin accompanied Alleria there, cloaked against the dust and heat.
The moment he stepped into the camp, familiar voices called out.
"Well I'll be damned!" boomed Kurdran Wildhammer, striding forward with a grin wide enough to split his beard. "If it isn't the mage who refuses to stay dead!"
Leylin chuckled. "Good to see you still yelling loud enough to wake dragons."
Kurdran clapped him on the back hard enough to rattle bones. "Good! Means you're still real."
Nearby, Khadgar approached more calmly, staff in hand, eyes sharp despite the humor in his smile.
"You vanish for years," the archmage said, "and return just in time to see us march into another disaster. Typical."
"Someone has to watch you make bad decisions," Leylin replied.
Khadgar laughed, then grew serious. "You're not joining us?"
Leylin shook his head. "Not this time. But… I'll be closer than you think."
Khadgar studied him, then nodded slowly. "Somehow, that doesn't surprise me."
Turalyon joined them shortly after, clasping Leylin's forearm in a warrior's greeting.
"We owe you more than words," the general said. "The Second War would have gone very differently without you."
Leylin inclined his head. "Just make sure this one ends properly."
"It will," Turalyon said firmly. "I'll see to it."
—
When the time came, Leylin walked Alleria to the edge of the encampment, where the Dark Portal loomed in the distance, silent, broken, yet menacing.
He stopped her there.
"One last thing," he said.
She turned to him, smiling. "More precautions?"
"Yes," he admitted. "Trust your instincts. Don't overextend. And if something feels wrong—"
"I pull back," she finished. "I know."
"And remember," he added, voice lowering, "you're not alone. Even beyond worlds."
Alleria reached up, fingers brushing the necklace, then leaned forward and kissed him, slow, deliberate, filled with promise rather than farewell.
"I'll come back," she whispered against his lips. "And when I do, I expect you to still be here."
Leylin smiled, resting his forehead against hers. "I wouldn't dare be anywhere else."
She stepped back, bowing her head once before turning toward the gathered heroes of the Alliance.
Leylin watched as she joined them, standing tall among legends. The banners of the Alliance vanished beyond the horizon, swallowed by heat and dust, leaving only silence behind.
Leylin stood there long after the expedition had departed, watching the broken sky where the Dark Portal loomed like a half-healed wound. Alleria's figure had long since disappeared among the ranks of heroes, yet the echo of her presence lingered, warm, resolute, unyielding.
"System initiate sign in."
[Sign in Successful]
[The host obtained: Random Treasure Box (One Time Use) - Uncommon]
[A box containing a random treasure. Rewards given will be based upon the host's luck.]
Leylin kept the box inside his space backpack and only when the sun dipped lower did Leylin finally turn away.
—
The Windrunner estate greeted him with familiarity arched windows catching the afternoon light, the faint scent of pine and polished wood drifting on the breeze. Vereesa was the first to notice his return.
"You're back earlier than I expected," she said softly, setting aside the book she had been reading.
Leylin nodded, removing his cloak. "They've gone. The Sons of Lothar are on their way."
Vereesa approached him, her eyes searching his face. She saw no hesitation there, only quiet concern, buried deep beneath composure.
"Will she be alright?"
"She will be," Leylin replied. "Stronger than most of them combined."
Vereesa smiled faintly at that, then hesitated. "Then why do you look like you've just remembered something unpleasant?"
Leylin paused.
It was rare for something to genuinely slip his mind but the promise he had made beneath emerald boughs and dream-suffused skies was not something he could ignore forever.
"I promised Ysera something," he said at last. "Long before all of this."
Vereesa blinked. "Ysera?"
Leylin nodded. "Yes, a dragon. Her sister—Alexstrasza. She is still imprisoned. Enslaved."
Vereesa's breath caught slightly. "By the orcs…?"
"And worse," Leylin replied grimly. "By powers that should never have held a dragon queen in chains."
For a moment, silence hung between them.
Then Vereesa straightened. "Then we should go."
Leylin turned to her sharply. "We?"
"Yes," she said, meeting his gaze without flinching. "You're not going alone."
Leylin exhaled slowly, already foreseeing complications. "Vereesa, this isn't like Suramar. This involves dragons, ancient ones. Grim Batol is—"
"Dangerous," she finished. "So was the Second War. So is Draenor. You didn't stop Alleria."
"That's different."
Her lips curved slightly. "Is it?"
Leylin rubbed his temples. He had anticipated resistance from many quarters but not this particular resolve.
"I can protect you," he said carefully. "But I can't guarantee—"
"I know," Vereesa said softly. "But I trust you. And I refuse to sit and wait while you walk into danger alone again."
Before Leylin could answer, the doors swung open.
"Absolutely not."
Sylvanas stood there, arms crossed, eyes sharp as arrowheads.
"You're not dragging my sister into another nightmare," she said flatly. "Dragons, have you lost your mind?"
Leylin sighed. "I didn't even get to finish explaining."
Sylvanas stepped closer, fury simmering beneath her composure. "You never do. You just leave. And now you expect—"
She stopped herself, jaw tightening.
"…I would go too," she admitted through clenched teeth. "If I weren't bound here. Ranger-General duties don't vanish just because you feel like playing hero."
Vereesa reached out gently. "Syl…"
Sylvanas turned away. "Don't. I hate this. I hate that you always walk away and somehow expect us to understand."
Leylin met her gaze, serious. "I don't expect that. But I won't lie either."
For a moment, Sylvanas looked as if she might say more then footsteps echoed in the corridor.
"Did someone say mission?"
Tyr'ganal appeared, grinning as if he had just discovered free wine. "Because I heard that tone of voice and immediately knew trouble was brewing."
Leylin stared. "You were eavesdropping."
"Listening," Tyr'ganal corrected cheerfully. "Big difference. And if you're heading somewhere called Grim Batol, you're going to need someone with sense."
Vereesa raised an eyebrow. "You?"
"Someone has to keep him from overthinking himself into a grave," Tyr'ganal replied, clapping Leylin on the back.
Leylin opened his mouth to protest—
"Count me in."
Aminel stood quietly near the doorway, hands folded, expression calm but eyes unwavering.
Leylin froze. "…You heard too."
She nodded. "And I already know you won't refuse me."
He closed his eyes briefly. "This is becoming a procession."
Aminel stepped forward. "You once told me you would keep your promise. I believe you. That includes letting me walk beside you."
Sylvanas scoffed quietly. "Unbelievable."
Leylin looked between them, Vereesa's resolve, Tyr'ganal's easy confidence, Aminel's quiet determination and finally let out a helpless laugh.
"Very well," he said. "But you follow my orders. No heroics. No splitting up. And if I say retreat—"
"We retreat," Vereesa said at once.
Tyr'ganal saluted. "Scout's honor."
Aminel inclined her head. "Understood."
Sylvanas turned away, fists clenched. "Just come back alive."
Leylin softened. "We will. And it's not like we would go directly. We'll take our time before going on this mission."
—
A few months of peace had passed and preparations began that very evening.
Maps were laid out. Supplies gathered. Leylin reinforced enchantments, layering protective sigils into cloaks and weapons alike. Grim Batol was no ordinary destination, it was a scar on the land, steeped in dragon blood and dark magic.
What Leylin did not know, what fate quietly arranged beyond his sight was that elsewhere, far from Quel'Thalas…
A red-haired human mage received a summons from a crimson-scaled stranger.
Rhonin, apprentice of Dalaran, listened as Krasus spoke of Grim Batol, of chains and suffering, of a dragon queen who had endured too long.
Two paths, unknowingly aligned, began to converge. And soon, the shadow of Grim Batol would draw them all in.