The Fel beam that pierced the horizon tore a massive hole through the clouds, revealing half of the full moon that had been obscured. However, the sudden appearance of moonlight sent many commoners in Zin-Azshari into a state of panic. The destructive power contained in that Fel beam made them wish they could turn back and hide in their homes forever, never to step out again.
The sickly green Fel was the symbol of demonic power, and the Night Elf commoners, having suffered through the demons' massacres, were exceptionally sensitive to this energy.
...
By the shore of the Well of Eternity.
Having witnessed the crow—into which Andreas had transformed—fall from the sky, Archimonde leisurely lowered his finger. He tilted his head to glance at the large bat bowing respectfully beside him.
"Tichondrius, are you certain that fellow was the culprit behind your previous mission's failure?"
Witnessing Archimonde's might at close range, Tichondrius appeared extremely submissive. "Yes. My thanks to Lord Archimonde for personally punishing him."
"Hmph~ How boring." Archimonde waved his hand dismissively. "I thought a mortal wielding the power of the Void, as you described, would be more troublesome. In the end, he was merely an ant."
"Go. If you fail once more, not just I, but Kil'jaeden as well will not let you off easily, I suspect."
Tichondrius felt a chill in his heart upon seeing Archimonde's cold gaze and hastily guaranteed, "Yes! Your subordinate will surely complete the mission."
Watching Tichondrius dissolve into countless small bats and fly toward the crow's crash site, Archimonde let out an ambiguous chuckle. "Heh~ The 'mastermind'?"
...
Coincidentally, Queen Azshara, who was admiring flowers in the palace garden, also witnessed Archimonde's "Finger of Death" piercing the sky.
Handmaiden Vashj offered a low-voiced warning with concern, "Your Majesty..."
Azshara waved her hand to stop Vashj's unspoken words. "I know what you worry about. While Archimonde's strength is indeed somewhat beyond expectations, it is not to the point of being unmanageable."
Taking a sip from an exquisite teacup, Azshara asked leisurely, "Putting that aside, how is Tyrande faring? Has she changed her mind?"
A sharp light flashed through Vashj's eyes as she looked down at the ground, but she answered in a calm tone, "No. Elune's protection remains in effect, and Tyrande's attitude has not softened in the slightest."
"She has even refused the delicacies we sent her, relying only on the small amount of food carried in her magical satchel."
"Heh~" Azshara used her long, delicate fingers to lift Vashj's chin, a playful expression on her beautiful face. "Vashj, do you think I don't know you tampered with the food you sent to Tyrande?"
Vashj's expression shifted, and she scrambled to explain, "My Queen, I only..."
"Enough." Azshara released her hold on Vashj and waved her hand languidly. "I have no interest in your petty schemes; I only care about the results."
"As long as Tyrande is willing to abandon her service to Elune and turn to me, I will not hold her past positions against her." Azshara gazed at the moon peeking from behind the clouds, a playful curve forming at the corner of her mouth. "Imagine it—a chosen of a goddess turning to serve me. Isn't that a scene worth looking forward to?"
Although Vashj still harbored deep hostility toward Tyrande, seeing the look of anticipation on Azshara's face, she could only twitch her lips and respond against her will, "Yes. The Queen's glory shall eventually surpass that of the Moon Goddess Elune."
Azshara caught Vashj's reluctant look from the corner of her eye and smiled playfully. "Continue to watch over her. Elune's protection cannot last forever. I want to see how long she can remain stubborn once Elune's favor is gone."
...
Near the main battlefield east of Zin-Azshari, Malfurion, who was preparing to lead a small group of elites in a feint attack on the Burning Legion's flank, suddenly stopped.
Everyone in the feint squad, including Rhonin and Broxigar, looked up at the sky simultaneously. The striking Fel beam made Malfurion instinctively press his lips together. The terrifying power contained in that beam caused an uneasy emotion to stir in his heart.
Could it be... No! I must believe in Andreas.
Broxigar, who had just participated in the Battle of Mount Hyjal, unconsciously tightened his grip on his oak war axe. He whispered in Rhonin's ear, "I've seen that destructive Fel beam at Mount Hyjal before. It is Archimonde's signature move—the Finger of Death."
Rhonin nodded gravely. "It's a miracle you could defeat such a terrifying enemy. It's a pity I wasn't there for the Battle of Mount Hyjal."
Broxigar glanced secretly at the young Malfurion and shook his head slightly. "No. In that tragic battle, no one could withstand Archimonde's might. We exhausted all our strength just to barely hold back the Burning Legion's main forces."
"It was only because the Night Elves sacrificed their immortality, detonating the power contained within the World Tree Nordrassil, that the terrifying demon lord was killed."
"Right, speaking of that," Rhonin suddenly became interested, "you saw that dark-skinned Night Elf earlier, didn't you? Could he be..."
Broxigar's expression was complex. He scratched his messy, greying hair and said, "Yes. Although his appearance and aura have changed somewhat, if I haven't mistaken him, it should be him."
...
As Malfurion composed himself and led the feint squad forward again, Maiev—who had originally intended to join them—was currently doing something uncharacteristic of her personality and status.
"Cough, cough..."
Inside the largest independent tent in the Sisterhood of Elune's camp, weak coughing continued to sound. Maiev looked worriedly at the pale woman on the bed. Several high priestesses of the Sisterhood were gathered around, casting spells in unison to try and alleviate the woman's pain.
With a bitter smile and a shake of her head, the sickly woman spoke in an still-gentle tone, "There is no need to waste your strength. I am not injured or ill; I have simply overtaxed my body. This is not a problem that ordinary healing spells can solve."
"But, High Priestess..."
"Enough." Dejahna, the High Priestess who had recently awakened, waved her hand weakly. "Sisters, please step out. I have important matters to discuss with Maiev."
Leaning in a corner of the tent with her arms crossed, Maiev's eyes flickered. She nodded as the high priestesses turned to look at her. "Go. Ohn'ahra still needs your help. Please heal him as quickly as possible; we need his guidance to establish contact with the Tauren."
"Yes, High Priestess. Maiev, may Elune be with you."
After the high priestesses left, the tent fell into a brief silence, forming a sharp contrast with the shouts and drills heard from the camp outside.
"Sigh~"
Seeing Maiev's stubborn and defiant expression, the wise Dejahna immediately guessed she had learned the truth. Reaching out to pat the edge of the bed, the High Priestess spoke with a compassionate and tender smile, "Maiev... cough, come sit. I know you have many frustrations and questions."
"While there is still time, I will do my best to answer them for you. Please, listen to my explanation patiently."