Because Celeste was pregnant, every member of the Moonshadow Family—including Leticia and Aurora—suddenly cared far less about work and spent the whole day fussing around Celeste, whose belly still barely showed.
Even Niana, who was normally tied up in Stormwind City, managed to squeeze in a trip back. While paying her respects to her former headmistress, she also gave Andreas a briefing on the Alliance's recent developments and changes.
Of course, certain matters unsuitable for public discussion were also raised during their private conversation.
Taking advantage of a day when Shandris and the others had taken Celeste for an outing beyond the city walls, Andreas stayed home to welcome Niana, who hadn't returned to Kalimdor in a long while.
After serving for so long as the Night Elf Republic's ambassador to the Alliance, Niana was no longer the green girl she had once been. Her bearing had matured considerably, and her competence had won unanimous praise from kings of the old Lordaeron kingdom and Stormwind alike.
If not for the fact that no suitable replacement had been found, Andreas would have recalled Niana from the Eastern Kingdoms to serve as a high-ranking official with real power back home.
"Old Fogey, Benedictus—the man you told me to keep an eye on—has finally started to move."
Niana spoke gravely. "Ever since he fled Lordaeron, the Archbishop of the Light of the Holy Lights Power has kept a very low profile. Publicly, at least, he's shown no irregularities, guiding Stormwind's people toward the Lights Power with perfect diligence."
"But starting in the latter half of last year, Benedictus' public appearances dropped sharply."
"The cathedral claims age and poor health, yet through Garona's covert investigations we've found the archbishop is physically fitter than most young men—there's no way he's unwell."
When Andreas had purged the impurities from Garona's soul, the half-orc Rogue finally realized this was the second time Speaker Moonshadow had stepped in to help her.
Garona, starved of affection since childhood, had always believed one simple truth: whoever treats her sincerely earns her absolute trust in return.
That was why she kept silently guarding House of Wrynn—to repay the late Queen Taria's kindness in caring for her all those years ago.
Since Garona was going to stay planted in Stormwind anyway, Andreas reasoned it was better to let her—someone who had already earned Matias Shaw's qualified approval—gather intelligence in the shadows than to send more unknown agents into SI:7's line of sight.
Thanks to Garona's probing, Niana had finally obtained clues about Benedictus' odd behavior.
"Garona didn't catch him red-handed, but by piecing together the scraps she's gathered she can confirm one thing."
Niana enunciated every word. "Something is wrong beneath Stormwind's Cathedral of Lights Power—very likely a Short-Range Portal leading to the area behind the cathedral."
Andreas set aside the over-joyed mood Celeste's pregnancy had brought him and lowered his head in thought. "How did Garona reach that conclusion?"
"By tracking Benedictus' movements."
Niana flipped two monochrome photographs onto the tea table.
Each showed a strikingly similar figure in a hood that completely hid the face. Judging by the sharp images and body type, it was the same person.
"These shots were taken with the Gnomes' newest civilian tech. They call the device a 'rapid imager.'"
Andreas curled his lip. "Too much of a mouthful—let's just call it a Camera."
Niana shrugged and went on. "The photos were taken last January and last June, both in the garden behind the Cathedral on the way to the harbor."
There's no direct proof the hooded man is Benedictus, yet each time Garona snapped the picture the archbishop happened to be 'sick' and absent. I don't believe in coincidences."
Andreas studied the pictures for a moment. "Has Garona been able to tail this mystery man?"
"That's where the problem lies."
Niana frowned. "We know Benedictus is a priest who specializes in Holy Lights Power; the priest class isn't known for stealth."
Yet every time Garona tried to track the hooded figure she lost him. He simply vanishes before her eyes. The power feels like…
"Shadow?"
"Exactly."
Andreas rubbed his chin with a meaningful smile. "Then I'm certain—it is Benedictus."
Niana looked surprised. "I agree, but what's your proof?"
"Me."
In each palm Andreas gathered Shadow and Holy Lights Power. "Surely you don't think I'm the only one who's figured out how to convert Lights Power into Shadow and back again?"
"Benedictus studied under Alonsus Faol. The 'Saint' Alonsus was a prodigy of the Lights Power; he founded the entirely new vocation of Paladin, altering the course of the Second War."
Without Paladins to counter the Horde's Death Knights and their Zombie Hordes, the final outcome of that war would have been far from certain.
"At the extreme, Lights Power becomes Shadow. I believe Alonsus grasped that secret in his later years, and Benedictus—ever at his side—could hardly have missed it."
Niana lowered her head, sorting the idea out. "Old Fogey, are you saying Benedictus may have started doubting the Lights Power itself because of that Lights Power-Shadow duality and thereby strayed onto the wrong path?"
"Is that why you've had us watch him all this time?"
Andreas nodded. "Partly. His own odd behavior is another reason."
"Haven't Terenas' late-life decisions seemed bizarre? Place the source of those choices on Benedictus' Mind-Magic and they suddenly make perfect sense."
Niana shivered. "Then Benedictus is tied to the Old Gods?!"
Andreas was certain. "Almost certainly. The cathedral is saturated with Lights Power—the opposite of Shadow. To contact an Old God, Benedictus has to step outside its grounds. That explains his movements."
Niana's brows knit in worry. "Old Fogey, shouldn't we eliminate him? With a defector of the Old Gods hiding in Stormwind—and in the post of Archbishop of the Light—his chance of harming King Varian is frighteningly high."
"Precisely because he's their agent I want you and Garona to watch his every move."
Andreas spoke solemnly. "The Old Gods have more pawns than just him. Uprooting him now would only alarm the rest. Better to keep Benedictus as our Barometer: the moment his anomalies increase, we'll know the Old Gods are making their play."
"As long as Benedictus' odd behavior ramps up, it means the Old Gods are about to act."
"What I'm really curious about now…"
Andreas tapped his chin. "…is which Old God Benedictus serves: N'Zoth? Or Yogg-Saron?"
"His allegiance decides our next move. If he answers to N'Zoth we can handle it, but if he's under Yogg-Saron, he'll likely make trouble when we launch our assault on the Storm Peaks."
With Pandaria unsealed, Loken quietly re-established contact with Thorim in the Hall of Origin and Hodir beneath Uldaman.
All three sides had completed their final preparations; they only needed to wait for the Night Elves to recover from the last war's exhaustion before launching the assault.
Celeste's sudden pregnancy was unexpected, but Andreas had already scheduled the assault on Ulduar for the second half of Dark Portal Year 25, so there was no conflict.
Niana assured Andreas, "Understood. When I return I'll have Garona dig up whatever backer Benedictus has."
Andreas warned gravely, "Be extremely careful not to alert the prey. No matter whose man he is, once one side learns Benedictus is being investigated, they'll quickly share it with the other."
"Yes, sir."
After seeing Niana off, Andreas leaned back on the sofa in his private lounge and closed his eyes to rest.
"Xal'atath, who do you think Benedictus serves?"
"Heh-heh~" The freshly awakened Old-Girl giggled. "Chances are high he's one of N'Zoth's tentacles."
"Yogg-Saron's attention is mostly on corrupting the Titan Keepers; as long as she seizes Ulduar and regains her freedom, she'll have half-won this invisible war."
"Judging by Azeroth's current top-tier combat strength, no one can completely destroy a fully released Yogg-Saron without harming Azeroth herself—not even I."
Xal'atath could devour C'Thun only because the Thousand-Eyed Demon had never fully broken its seal and had been gravely wounded by the united demigod squads.
Like C'Thun, the absorbed soul fragment of YShaarj was also taken when it was extremely weak; Xal'atath in her present state still can't swallow an Old God at full strength.
Once Yogg-Saron fully escapes, killing her would inevitably grievously wound Azeroth—clearly against the interests of the Night Elves and every race living on the world.
"N'Zoth, huh…"
Mentioning that old lurker always gave Andreas a headache.
N'Zoth is the weakest of the Old Gods, but because his prison sank into unreachable depths he can stretch his tentacles into every corner of Azeroth without restraint.
The Emerald Dream is only one of them; with the Night Elves' current aerial-fleet coverage, almost nowhere in the physical world can stay hidden from sky-borne eyes.
Yet even so, searchers of every race—including the dragons—still cannot locate Deathwing.
There is only one explanation.
Deathwing is hidden in some dimensional pocket outside the physical world—most likely one of the four Elemental Planes under Old God control.
According to Andreas' memorandum, among the four Elemental Lordss only two remain loyal to the Old Gods: the Firelord Ragnaros and the Windlord Al'akir.
Therazane the Stonemother has clearly stated she will no longer obey the Old Gods, but, ever stubborn as earth, she is equally cold to other intelligent races—an ostensibly neutral stance that in reality offends both sides.
By contrast, Tidehunter Neptulon's position is crystal-clear: he is the only Elemental Lords openly opposing the Old Gods.
One major reason the Naga rarely appear above water is that Neptulon's Water Elementals pin them down in the deep sea.
That rules out the Abyssal Maw for Deathwing's hiding place; the remaining options are Sky Wall, Deepholm, and the Firelands.
The Elemental Planes were severed and sealed by the Titan Keepers after the war against the Dark Empire; entering them is no easy task—countless elementals instinctively attack intruders.
Andreas planned to deal with Yogg-Saron first and explore the Elemental Planes afterward—during which he might still gain some aid from Neptulon.
Besides the missing Deathwing, Benedictus is another trump card in N'Zoth's hand.
As Archbishop of the Light in the Kingdom of Stormwind he can approach the Wrynn royal family at any time; without Garona's advance precautions Andreas believed Varian would almost certainly suffer a string of tribulations.
"Benedictus…"
Tapping the table lightly, Andreas murmured, "Enjoy your remaining days; once Yogg-Saron falls, your good times are over."
...Andreas had hoped to quietly stay with his family and accompany Celeste until she gave birth, but heaven refused to oblige.
March of Dark Portal Year 25: when Andreas arrived in Silvermoon City to attend Kael'thas' coronation, the unexpected happened.
The High Elves had spent the entire year preparing for the grand ceremony; at Kael'thas' invitation nearly every civilized race on Azeroth sent delegations to the coronation.
While Andreas was chatting with King Genn and the increasingly aged Great Chieftain Cairne, a frantic Dragonhawk Rider rudely swooped over the embassy quarter housing the racial leaders and landed clumsily before the Sunstrider court.
Azeroth is disaster-prone; its leaders are no mere figureheads—most possess considerable combat strength.
Both rider and dragonhawk were still dripping blood, bodies lacerated, some ghastly green light flickering in the open wounds.
Andreas and the other leaders instantly tensed; instinct told them something bad had happened.
Watching the dragonhawk knight stagger into the court supported by Spell-Breakers, Andreas gravely apologized to Genn and Cairne.
"Sorry, I must leave for a moment."
"No matter," Genn replied, equally grim. "I think we all feel the same—let's each return and gather information. I have a bad feeling."
Back at the Night Elf Republic embassy, Aurora greeted him first, her face unusually grave as she handed Andreas a report.
"Dad, big news—the Amani Trolls are back, and they've brought a large host of Zandalari reinforcements."
Andreas scanned the dispatch. "Just as I thought…"
He burned the letter with Lights Power and frowned. "They chose this exact moment—clearly aiming to slap the High Elves in the face."
Celeste, her belly now noticeably rounded, showed icy resolve. "If I weren't in this condition I'd go to the front myself and tear those Fang-Freaks to pieces!"
Since the previous year Andreas had received intelligence of renewed Zandalari activity.
Zandalar had suffered huge losses in its war against the blood god Ghuun; although they wiped out the Blood Trolls and slew Ghuun, the Loa of Kings Rezan was gravely wounded and many Lesser Loa perished.
The battered empire kept a low profile for years, licking its wounds on their island.
Now re-emerging, Zandalar showed far more aggression; with no more internal worries they could throw everything into outward expansion.
Traces of Zandalari Trolls were spotted in Northrend's frost-troll territories last year, and ZulGurub in Stranglethorn Vale has seen frequent visits from Zandalari emissaries.
The Night Elves have no intention of war with Zandalar, but the long-time runner-up seems eager to make trouble while Azeroth enjoys rare peace.
"Now it's up to Kael'thas to respond."
Shandris said gravely, "If this goes wrong, the grand celebration meant to showcase High-Elven power could turn into a colossal joke—something the reform-minded Quel'Thalas could never accept."
Off the western shore of the Amani Forest, between Goldenmist Village and Windrunner Village, the Zandalari Golden Fleet lay at anchor while countless trolls paddled ashore to storm the Amani beaches.
The High Elves never expected an attack on the eve of their new king's coronation; with most forces shifted to Eversong Woods, the long-peaceful Amani Forest had grown lax in its defenses.
Nearly a hundred thousand combined Amani and Zandalari troops quickly overran the under-garrisoned Moon Temple, skirted the alarm-sounding Tirisfal to the south, and smashed the Sun Temple at the foot of Sunspire Peak.
Ranger-General Sylvanas scrambled to rally defenders for Tirisfal, while the town once called ZulAman—now Antheris—braced for siege.
Commanding Antheris was the youngest Windrunner, Lirath.
It was his first real battle, and nerves gnawed at the youth, yet years of Windrunner discipline won out; drawing a steady breath, he set Antheris to repel any assault.
Halduron Brightwing, stationed at Farstrider Camp, received the Ranger-General's urgent order. Joining Magisters from Dawnsinger Spire, he force-marched south to relieve Antheris.
To Sylvanas' surprise, the trolls did not rush the town; after slaughtering the Sun Temple garrison, they halted.
Pushing for speed, Halduron was ill-prepared when Amani ambushes erupted, plunging both sides into the familiar guerrilla war of the woods.
Yet this time the Amani tactics were starkly different.
Shield-bearing, mail-clad Zandalari formed an iron wall, absorbing High-Elven arrows while Zandalari druids crashed in from the flanks, scattering the unprepared Farstriders.
To staunch the bleeding, Halduron ordered a fighting withdrawal to the hidden redoubt of An'thelas, south of Sunspire Peak.
Sylvanas' caution had kept Tirisfal, the vital bastion, secure.
The force occupying Sun Temple proved only the vanguard; behind it, a hundred thousand more trolls poured from the western shore, encircling the gateway to Eversong.
'Hmph!'
Aged and scarred, Zuljin snorted at Tirisfal's stout walls. 'So the arrogant High Elves learned to build ramparts after all.'
'Attack! Barely ten thousand defenders hold Tirisfal; once it falls, the road to Silvermoon City lies open!'
'For the tribe!'
Even as the main host struck Tirisfal, the Sun Temple garrison wheeled on Antheris, hurling the first stones.
Amani catapults flung mangled, half-eaten High-Elven corpses against Antheris' walls, the besiegers laughing in open mockery.
'Do not let them bait you!'
Lirath clenched his fists, eyes fixed on the dead. 'Hold the walls. Wait for relief. With five thousand against fifty thousand, we sally only to die.'
'Back to your posts! The Ranger-General will send help. Until then, by whatever means, hold your stretch of wall!'
'Rangers—nock! Arcane cannons—load!'
Lirath drew the golden Quel'Thalas bow to full stretch. 'Loose at will!'
Seeing his taunts fail, Amani Warlord Da'kara spat. 'Tch. Windrunners—still a curse to fight.'
'Bring up the fire-arrows. Begin the siege!'
Quel'Thalas' imported Night-Republic cannons roared first, answered by Zandalari fire-arrows supplied to restore the Amani kingdom.
The Zandalari missiles, laced with voodoo, burst against Antheris' wards in rippling, venomous flame.
Outside Tirisfal, Zuljin ground his teeth at the courier's news.
'Holding fast, are they? Then we'll force their hand.'
Grinning, he turned to his lieutenant. 'Jin'jala, ride south and burn Windrunner Village. Let's see if the Ranger-General can stomach staying behind her walls.'
'As you command!'
Jin'jala led thirty thousand raptor-riders south, but as they passed the Gloam mine, hidden elves burst from the shafts, arrows hissing into the column's rear.
Loose volleys toppled riders by the score; trip-lines strung between the trees hurled more from their saddles, the whole cavalry milling in chaos.
'Keep shooting—don't stop!'
Under the calm order of a silver-haired elf woman, the Gloam ambushers picked their targets.
'Thought you could stroll back into our woods and blackmail Sylvanas?' she muttered, voice like frost. 'Cute plan.'
The still-vital beauty was none other than the former Ranger-General, Lireesa Windrunner.
Since retirement she had lived quietly in Windrunner Village, schooling her youngest, Lirath. Her husband passed the year before; Lirath had lately taken his ranger's oaths.
She had thought herself ready to return to the Sunwell—until fate offered one last battle.
Windrunner Spire's watchers had spotted the Zandalari fleet the moment it breached the horizon; word reached Lireesa before any other.
She told Sylvanas to hold Tirisfal, gathered the village's old veterans, laid traps, and waited in the mine.
Between trip-lines ahead and arrows behind, the raptor cavalry milled like sheep in a pen.
Jin'jala slew a few panic-mongers, remounted, and bellowed, 'Front to rear! Crush these vermin—charge!'
'Vermin, is it?'
Lireesa smiled coldly and signalled.
'Light the powder. Let's see who burns.'
Before the trolls reached the mine, she pulled her veterans back into the shafts.
Jin'jala sniffed. 'What's that reek?'
A Zandalari captain paled. 'Gunpowder—fall back, now!'
Too late. The buried kegs erupted, flinging trolls skyward in a gout of earth and flame.
'Boom!'
Even at Tirisfal the fireball blossomed above the treetops. Zuljin spun, staring south in stunned silence.
A flicker of pride crossed Sylvanas' icy face. 'Mother still has her sting.'
'Eyes front! Keep firing—the Sunwatch stands with us! Hold Tirisfal until the prince arrives. For Quel'Thalas!'
'For Quel'Thalas!'