As the holy city of the Titan Keepers and the site of the Forge of Wills, Ulduar's architecture bears a heavy Titan aesthetic—rough-hewn grandeur carved with painstaking detail.
The Keeper's Hall Andreas had walked through earlier was battle-scarred, but its adamant structure kept Ulduar's core intact.
After slaying Vezax, Andreas pressed deeper into the subterranean seal; the scenery in the Descent into Madness was utterly unlike upper Ulduar.
Shattered support pillars floated eerily mid-air, as though some unknown force had rewritten local physics.
The gate sealing Yogg-Saron's prison had long since collapsed; only a wavering veil of seal-energy remained. It looked ready to break, yet this single layer was the true linchpin of the entire prison.
At that translucent seal, Andreas and the Keepers could already see inside.
Though meant to imprison an Old God, the hall—scaled to Titan Keepers—felt cramped, hardly suited to a planet-parasite.
At the center, a viscous green pool glistened amid the cracked floor.
As Andreas' group approached, the fluid seethed, foul bubbles bursting across its surface.
With Loken dead, Loken had reclaimed supreme authority over Ulduar.
While Andreas studied the seal, Loken cautiously pressed his palm to the thin energy membrane.
"Everyone, gather close. Just in case, we'll pass through without breaking the seal."
At his signal, they clustered around the Great Guardian; the barrier flashed a slit, and Loken led them through in a heartbeat.
The instant they crossed, Freya wrinkled her nose. "What is that stench? It's revolting."
The reek—issuing from the roiling green pool—permeated the entire cage.
Thorim looked about warily. "Where's Yogg-Saron?"
One of the prison's architects, the Great Guardian stared at the pool and warned, "Stay alert—Yogg-Saron's true form lies beneath."
Half an hour passed; the pool stayed still.
With Algalon's crisis looming, Andreas had no patience for a staring contest.
'Still hiding?'
Gritting his teeth, Andreas hurled a chain of high-intensity Light Orbs into the sludge.
Old Gods are Void Creatures; they abhor Lights Power instinctively.
The moment the orbs struck, the viscous fluid churned harder, and a whisper slithered through their souls.
"Titan-made toys, you only won through outside aid. Millennia later, have you forgotten the terror of the Old Gods?"
The ground quaked; the pool boiled, and the floor around it caved as something surged upward.
Splash!
Bursting slime—reeking—slammed toward them. Freya raised a jade shield in disgust.
The two green forces clashed, sizzling as the acid gnawed at her barrier.
Freya's face darkened. "Hodir, help."
The Forge Guardian threw up a second wall, thick ochre stone-energy bringing surer safety.
The first barrier perforated, the spray slammed Hodir's bulwark and finally halted.
That bile was mere prelude. The central collapse widened, and a grotesque meat-mass burst free.
The first impression: mouths—countless mouths of every size.
A colossal maw split the mass, rows of jagged teeth greeting them.
Smaller gashes across the flesh snapped open; what might have been eyes were more tiny, fang-lined mouths.
This sanity-blasting horror was Yogg-Saron, the the thousand-mouthed demon.
Every maw murmured at once, the words boring straight into their souls.
"Arrogant Titan Keepers, you think you can kill me? Come, then."
Screech!
Though layered with chorus, the voice carried a distinctly feminine tone.
As the mouths shrieked, everyone clutched their heads in agony; even back-line Mimiron staggered, clutching his skull.
"Don't listen! Break her whisper!"
Mimiron, fighting the psychic assault, shook his head; distance spared him the worst.
A veteran of soul magic, Andreas boasted the strongest resistance to the Old God's murmur.
Once he'd needed Elune's protection to face a shackled C'Thun; now he stood against Yogg-Saron by will alone.
"Light, grant us the hope to banish the shadow!"
Velen had long taught that the Light is armor and blade for the steadfast.
The firmer the belief, the mightier the response.
Andreas' prayer was self-hypnosis, sweeping doubt away.
A slender lance of gold pierced the Void-shrouded chamber, bathing them and easing the maddening whispers.
Freed, Loken barked, "Attack! Don't give her pause—barrage her!"
Crack!
Golden lightning leapt from Loken's hand, blasting one small mouth into charred ruin.
Andreas followed, weaving Light into a mantle of will that fortified their souls.
The relentless strikes broke Yogg-Saron's rhythm; the thousand-mouthed horror focused on defense, her whispers muffled beneath Andreas' aegis.
With their defense secured, Andreas turned to the offensive.
The tear of Elune blazed; a lance of light speared across the void, driving toward Yogg-Saron's largest maw.
The holy-light blades stabbed into Yogg-Saron's gaping maw provoked a meaningless shriek; Andreas instantly felt the Old God swivel its main assault onto him.
The lock-on sensation was unmistakable. Andreas took a steadying breath, ready to serve as the temporary main tank.
"Aaaah!!"
A screaming wave of Void Power surged toward Andreas. Any ordinary Mortal would have been driven mad by that sound.
But Andreas, who also commanded the Void, had far higher resistance to its like; a purely mental strike could hardly touch him.
Conversely, his Shadow and soul spells were nearly useless against Yogg-Saron—why he'd spent C'Thun's fight dancing on the edge of the arena.
Times had changed. Now wielding the Light, Andreas was seen by Yogg-Saron as the greatest threat present; the fact he was a Mortal earned no scorn.
C'Thun's dying scream of despair had been shared across the Old God network, reaching Yogg-Saron and N'Zoth.
The two surviving Old Gods eyed the sword of the dark empire hanging at Andreas' waist with utmost wariness.
A defeat at the hands of the Titan Keepers meant only another imprisonment; with enough patience, release and revival would come.
Fall into Andreas' grasp, however, and the allegedly unkillable Old Gods would face true death—his kindred Void force could obliterate their very souls.
Compared with the thousand-tendrilled N'Zoth, Yogg-Saron had fewer arms, but crisis left her no room for restraint.
The seal-temple floor split open, dozens of tentacles writhing skyward in perfect coordination, delivering crushing lashes at Andreas.
Before the tendrils struck, a steadfast figure stepped in front of him: the Forge Keeper Hodir.
A primordial Titan-forged war-hammer had appeared in Hodir's hands, the green crystal in its head glowing softly.
Yogg-Saron's heart chilled; she sensed colossal power in that unassuming hammer, memories tens of millennia old flooding back.
"The hammer of Khazgoroth!"
Hodir's stone-armored body took the tentacle blows head-on, raising the holy hammer high. "Exactly—one of the Titan relics that shattered the Dark Empire!"
"Yogg-Saron, feel the might of Khaz'goroth the Shaper!"
"Boom!"
As Hodir slammed the hammer down, pillars of Titan energy erupted across the temple, reshaping the entire battlefield.
Blunt stone tips pierced Yogg-Saron without resistance; severed tentacles twitched on the ground for seconds before lying still.
"Aaaah!!"
It was the first time since combat began that Yogg-Saron screamed in agony, blood gushing from pillar-pierced wounds.
Though no one knew how far her corruption of Loken had progressed, her power clearly outstripped C'Thun's.
Veteran of Old God fights, Andreas knew how tenacious they were; preparing thoroughly was only sensible.
For this battle he had gathered every single Pillars of Creation he could find.
The hammer of Khazgoroth had been enshrined in Highmountain for generations. Unsealed during Mount Hyjal's war, loaned to Onyxia, then returned by Andreas to the Highmountain Tauren.
Thanks to the long alliance between Night Elves and the Highmountain Tribe, Warchief Ulan Highmountain agreed at once to lend the holy hammer for the world's sake.
Through Loken, Yogg-Saron had obtained vital intelligence.
After the Dark Empire's fall, Loken and Odyn sealed the Pillars separately; beyond those two, no Keeper knew where the Titan relics were hidden.
At Yogg-Saron's bidding, Loken seduced Helya into ambushing Odyn, sealing the Prime Designate inside Valhalla.
With Great Elder Loken missing, the Old Gods believed the Pillars lost forever.
The battle of Mount Hyjal was a showdown between Mortals and the Burning Legion. Knowing the Legion's stance on the Void, the Old Gods dared not place spies there; thus they never learned the Pillars had been unsealed.
Among the Pillars, the low-profile tear of Elune—set into Andreas' staff as its core—attracted the least attention.
Unlike the other devastating Titan relics, the Tear mainly amplified and converted power, its effects subtle enough that Yogg-Saron never noticed it.
The hammer of Khazgoroth was different; each earth-shaking blow had left indelible terror in the Old Gods during the Dark Empire war.
Seeing the Hammer in Hodir's hands, Yogg-Saron felt a dire premonition; the purple gem gleaming in time-locked Loken's left hand suddenly looked familiar.
"Could it be—!"
Loken paid her panic no heed. After Hodir's wide strike, the Great Guardian deftly channeled his relic.
Though partly braced, Yogg-Saron still felt desolation when her body froze within the timestream.
With the hammer of Khazgoroth and the eye of amanthul revealed, the enemy had come fully prepared—so when Hodir raised a square, sea-blue stone, the temple's temperature plummeted around Yogg-Saron.
Flesh-born creatures are carbon-based and water-laden; the stone now ripped that moisture from her body.
What had been a bloated Old God visibly withered in moments.
"Damn you all!"
Unwilling to die, Yogg-Saron screamed, trying to twist the minds of the relic-wielders.
Straining free of Loken's hold, the thousand-mouthed demon lashed every remaining tentacle first at the moisture-draining Hodir, while countless mouths fired beams straight at Loken, who was readying another spell.
"Not happening!"
Hodir slammed his hammer down; a wall of stone rose before him, blocking Yogg-Saron's frenzied strike.
Meanwhile Thorim gripped his lightning hammer in one hand, a shield in the other, blinking via storm-ride to Loken's front.
A golden arc-shield held every black beam at bay; Thorim did not budge, as though the assault were weightless.
"The Tidestone of Golganneth, the aegis of aggramar!"
Yogg-Saron poured all her might into the temple, the whispers swelling once more.
"So thorough… but I won't surrender! You forced me—now die with me!"
Bang!
Driven by Yogg-Saron's all-out assault, the will-armor Andreas had bestowed upon the Keepers shattered one after another.
Caught again by Yogg-Saron's mind control, the Keepers—including Loken—froze in place to varying degrees.
Just as Yogg-Saron prepared to seize the moment and slay one, the briefly forgotten Andreas—now empowered by Freya—stepped forward.
With the Keepers wielding the Pillars of Creation to draw Yogg-Saron's attention, Andreas had ample time to fuse Light and Shadow.
The grey mist within the tear of Elune grew solid; as Yogg-Saron loosed countless beams at Loken, Andreas leveled his staff at the gaping maw.
Tzch!
A grey streak pierced the space and, unhindered, lanced through Yogg-Saron's defenses from inside the cavernous mouth.
Aaaaargh!
With its head breached, even an Old God of mighty vitality was momentarily paralyzed, needing time to knit its ravaged brain.
Now! Everyone—hit hard!
Under Freya's aid, Loken and the others regained their senses; the Great Guardian first channeled the eye of amanthul to freeze Yogg-Saron in time.
Hodir wielded the Tidestone, sheathing the immobile Yogg-Saron in thick ice that further caged the God.
Hodir and Thorim exchanged glances; the forging-guardian slammed the hammer of Khazgoroth against the aegis of aggramar.
The Aegis, now in power-absorption mode, blazed with blinding light, and Hodir jerked his hammer back.
With a roar Thorim released the absorbed force in one burst, a brilliant golden column blasting into Yogg-Saron.
Meanwhile, cloaked by Freya's nature concealment and his own Shadow Veil, Andreas slipped close to Yogg-Saron.
Boom!
The moment the golden beam struck, a massive gash was torn in the thousand-mouthed demon's jaws, blood spraying like rain.
Struck, Yogg-Saron's mind thawed from the time-lock, yet half her form remained trapped in ice.
Though she fought frantically to break free, she despaired to see a tiny Mortal spring skyward, a strange one-handed sword raised high.
Flooding the sword of the dark empire with Shadow, Andreas lost his concealment amid the surging energies.
But stealth was no longer needed—Yogg-Saron, immobile, was little more than a colossal target.
Join your brother C'Thun, thousand-mouthed demon!
Shnk!
The black-gleaming blade sank unhindered into Yogg-Saron's brain, Xal'atath's exultant scream audible even to Mimiron at the rear.
Hahahaha! Yogg-Saron, when you devoured me back then, did you ever dream this day would come?
C'Thun was my first vengeance; YShaarj that early-dead wretch got off lightly—I only took his soul and residue. You're next!
Noooo!!!
Under Yogg-Saron's death-throes the unyielding ice shattered explosively, shards spraying outward.
After driving the sword home Andreas leapt clear, leaving the flailing god to wreck the already ruined temple.
As her wails faded, the oppressive Void Power within the temple waned and the heavy air began to calm.
Freya stared at Yogg-Saron's lifeless husk. "Is it over?"
"Yes, it's over."
Mimiron's voice reached the Keepers: "No life signs detected. Her soul and power have been devoured; her flesh has lost regeneration. She is dead."
Unable to hear the Keeper network, Andreas—told by Xal'atath—approached the corpse and drew the sword of the dark empire from the limp flesh.
Flicking off the clinging slime, he spoke to Xal'atath through thought.
"Well? Need to hibernate and digest?"
"Mm. Not centuries like after C'Thun, but a short sleep. While I slumber, avoid open war with N'Zoth."
"I know."
Sliding the blade back into his waist strap, he watched the red eye on the hilt slowly close.
Gazing at the dormant god-blade, Andreas mused: I hope when N'Zoth is dead I won't have to cross swords with you.
More than ten millennia had passed since Andreas gained Xal'atath; though each privately guarded against the other, their partnership had been largely smooth.
Void-kin are notorious for resilience; take the Old Gods—K'thyr and mighty Faceless Ones alike—death rarely sticks.
Conventional death is merely deep stasis for them; given time they re-coalesce and one day re-awaken.
Their resurrection looks like the Burning Legion's, yet the principle differs.
Legion demons exploit the Twisting Nether's separation from reality; slay them there and they stay dead—Illidan proved it.
Void beings can reform anywhere, anytime; the mighty ones are effectively immortal.
Yet this trait may not be unique to them—Andreas believed the Titans share it.
Once the Legion threat ends, dead Titans can reconstitute in the Pantheon so long as their souls endure.
Even with Yogg-Saron and N'Zoth slain, Andreas would still meet Void-kin in the future.
Since he would march on Argus, clashes with the Void side were only a matter of time; having Xal'atath meant those powerful Void beings would stay dead.
Without a soul, an empty shell is meaningless.
The future is never fixed, and Andreas never believed it immutable.
With Yogg-Saron slain, Ulduar's crisis was basically over.
Only one issue remained—Observer Algalon.
Leaving Freya and Hodir to dispose of the corpse and clear the ruins, Andreas and the others climbed back to the upper Keeper hall.
Mimiron's broadcast chimed: "Algalon arrives in 15 minutes 56 seconds; at current speed you'll reach the observatory in 10 minutes 28 seconds."
"I know you're exhausted, but hold on—pick up the pace and be ready for the Observer."
Mimiron's words made the Keepers momentarily set aside the joy of defeating Yogg-Saron.
Though the warning stung at such a moment, the High Inventor's caution was necessary.
Having barely slain the Old God that plagued Ulduar, it would be a wretched joke to fall to one of their own—though, including Loken, the Keepers had never truly counted the celestial Observer as one of them.
Titan-forged with advanced intellect can savor every emotion a Mortal feels; Loken had been ensnared by Yogg-Saron precisely because he coveted love.
But to the Keepers, a species of absolute rationality like the Celestials were little different from machines—blind to face-saving, bound only to the Pantheon's commands.
For all his crimes, Loken had at least done one thing right in Andreas' eyes: forging Azeroth's records.
Had Algalon learned the truth earlier, the planet might have been reshaped by the Forge of Origination long before the Night Elves ever arose.
According to Mimiron's data, by the Pantheon's metrics Azeroth's corruption by the Old Gods exceeded ninety percent.
This was not a measure of the Old Gods' strength, but of the number of fleshy Mortals.
To Celestials, all flesh-born beings are merely diseased offshoots of Void corruption.
An Azeroth in the Age of Mortals thus met Algalon's definition of total corruption; once he saw the truth, he would immediately trigger the Forge to remake the world.
To delay Algalon's remote activation of the Forge, Mimiron and Thorim—who knew its workings—teleported to the Forge to prepare for the worst, while Hodir followed to rendezvous with the Those who stayed behind Eonar.
According to Great Guardian Loken, Algalon's personal power was modest; Loken alone could pin the Observer down without effort.
Yet Andreas hoped to avoid fighting Algalon unless absolutely necessary.
High Celestials are rare cosmic beings whose bodies let them traverse the universe with ease.
When the Pantheon discovered them, they forged an alliance: the High Celestials would ferry messages between worlds for the Titans.
Low Celestials, lacking intellect, execute orders mechanically; only High Celestials like Algalon could be reasoned with.
Andreas hoped to exploit Algalon's ability to cross the cosmos swiftly and locate the one Titan soul who might have eluded Sargeras: the giver of life, Eonar.
Eonar—consort of Amanthul, mother of Highkeeper Ra, and the Life-Titan who empowered Freya, Ysera, and Alexstrasza—held pivotal authority in the Pantheon… though who knew how metal-bodied Titans reproduced.
Per Andreas' Notebook, Eonar's spirit had fled Sargeras' hunt under protection of the other Titans and hidden in her sanctuary, remaining lost until the original timeline's assault on Antorus, the Burning Throne.
If they could find and secure Eonar early, the Azeroth Expeditionary Force would gain a vital base among the stars and the blessing of the giver of life, easing the coming campaign on Argus.
With Azeroth still unready for a true star-born crusade, Algalon—able to roam the universe—was their only hope of reaching Eonar first.
Among the Keepers, only Loken knew the Pantheon's present state, so the matter had to be kept from the others.
Finding excuses to dismiss the rest, Andreas and Loken made for the Observatory east of Ulduar's entrance hall.
The Observatory was breathtaking: a floor of crystal clarity beneath a hall wrapped in Holograms, offering a true projection of the world around Azeroth.
Standing upon the transparent surface, Andreas felt as though walking amid the stars.
Most of the projection was utter blackness, countless stars glinting like serene jewels in the vast, quiet dark.
"Andreas, are you certain Eonar was not captured?"
Loken hesitated. "This intelligence is vital to every Titan-forged. Forgive my repeated doubts."
Andreas shrugged. "As I keep saying, the future isn't fixed. In every timeline I know, Sargeras never caught her. Let's hope we can convince Algalon to search."
The odds of meeting the Burning Legion in the vast cosmos were slim; more importantly, Algalon traveled in person—smaller and far less conspicuous than any warship.
"Very well, but there's one more problem."
Loken rubbed his temples. "Algalon, like all Celestials, is ruled by cold logic; persuading him will be maddening."
"No matter."
A crooked smile touched Andreas' lips. "If words fail, we'll 'persuade' him—physically."
Loken groaned. "You mean beat him until he agrees…"
…As Mimiron's Automated Alarm counted down to zero, a soft radiance flared above Ulduar's Observatory. A humanoid figure, star-dragon-like in silhouette, knelt upon the floor as it descended.
Loken kept his composure, spreading his arms in welcome.
"Observer Algalon, welcome to Azeroth."
Rising from his kneel, Algalon's star-flecked eyes swept over Loken.
"Great Guardian Loken, you have been tainted by the flesh curse?"
Before Loken could answer, Algalon invoked his Back-Door Access and began paging through Ulduar's raw logs—data Loken could never doctor.
The grim records turned Algalon's pale-blue form warning-red; slowly he lifted his gaze.
"Why has the Forge of Origination not been activated? Your mission has failed; deviation from protocol is extreme. This world is too deeply infected by Light-and-Dark-Responsive Parasites for reversal."
"Hey, buddy—over here."
Ignored, Andreas waved from beside Loken's foot.
Tiny beside the towering Keepers and Celestials, Andreas had escaped notice; only now did Algalon spot the Mortal.
"Flesh-infected one, do you address me?"
Andreas' eyebrow twitched, a forced smile forming. "Observer Algalon, don't speak as if to a patient. I am Andreas—Andreas of the Night Elves."
Algalon gave a neutral nod. "Noted: Night Elf. Before planetary re-origination, do you wish to speak?"
"Look…"—Andreas rubbed his brow—"did you skip the lesson on reading subtext? When did we agree to let you reset our world?"
"I understand your reluctance, Night Elf, but first get one premise straight."
"As the Pantheon-appointed Observer of Azeroth, if I judge this planet's corruption excessive and in need of re-origination, neither Great Elder Loken nor Chief Keeper Odyn can stop me from exercising my authority."
Andreas gave a smile devoid of warmth. "So you refuse to reason and will act solely on your subjective conclusions?"
"Not subjective—an objective analysis."
"Enough."
Cutting Algalon short, Andreas' expression chilled.
"Our views differ vastly. Whatever your verdict on Azeroth, I will not stand by while you trigger the Forge of Wills."
You see only the countless Mortals infected by the Curse of Flesh, yet know nothing of how they live, ignoring the Keepers' efforts."
Open your eyes and look—how many of the Old Gods sealed in Azeroth remain?
Algalon disliked arguments; he preferred data and facts.
He called up Azeroth's monitoring data, studied it in silence, then spoke again. "...An anomaly. The life signatures of C'Thun and Yogg-Saron have vanished."
"Great Elder Loken, was this your doing?"
Algalon's tone turned graver. "If you can thoroughly eradicate the Light-Shadow Parasites, submit your method to me; it will aid the Pantheon's campaign against the Void."
Loken shook his head. "C'Thun was slain by Andreas beside me, leading the so-called flesh-infected. Yogg-Saron fell recently in Ulduar; the Keepers did lend some aid."
"Flesh-infected rebels against their creators?"
The logic conflicted in Algalon's mind; he tilted his head, unable to reconcile it.
"As expected, Mimiron was right—your Constellar are blockheads."
Andreas sighed. "Listen: we arose under the Old Gods' Curse of Flesh, but do not lump us flesh-Mortals in with the Old God forces."
"The Keepers slumbered for ages; Azeroth has stood only because the so-called flesh-infected held the line against the Burning Legion and Old Gods combined."
With a single careless sentence you dismiss the countless sacrifices Mortals made to reach this point?"
Andreas released a demigod's might and warned, "Enough jokes. If you insist on triggering the Forge, don't blame me for striking back."
"Incomprehensible," Algalon said, puzzled. "Night Elf, I merely follow the Pantheon's decree. Do you intend to oppose the Pantheon?"
"Don't put words in my mouth."
Andreas sneered. "The Pantheon? I believe the Titans aren't stone-headed like you Constellar. Besides, the Pantheon no longer exists—do you not know how the Burning Legion swelled?"
Algalon paused at the intel, then turned to the silent Loken.
"Great Elder Loken, can you verify this Night Elf's claims?"
"Sigh—"
Loken sighed bleakly and replayed for Algalon the same residual vision once shown to Andreas—ending with Andreas' crude black-and-white addendum.
"These are the final memories the Makers transmitted to Azeroth, imprinted directly in my mind. Doubt me and you may scan my memory."
After viewing, Algalon remained speechless; evidently High Constellar were not as emotionless as Mimiron claimed.
"The Pantheon has fallen; hope for the universe is slim."
Algalon spoke in a lower voice. "Night Elf, as you say, now is not the time to quibble over one planet's corruption level."
"If we cannot halt the Legion's expansion, Sargeras' flames will consume the entire universe."
"Easy, Observer."
Seeing Algalon soften, Andreas withdrew his confrontational aura.
"Though the traitor Sargeras destroyed the Titans' bodies, their souls endure."
"To my knowledge, the souls of many Pantheon Titans—including Father of All Aman'thul—have been captured by Sargeras. Only the giver of life, Eonar, still hides in her refuge."
Andreas proposed solemnly, "Constellar can cross the universe in the flesh. Rather than fuss over recovering Azeroth, find Eonar's sanctuary."
"Once we have her coordinates we can send support. With Eonar's backing we can strike at Argus' Burning Throne, rescue the imprisoned Titan souls, and seal the Legion's greatest threat—the Fallen Titan Sargeras."
Still reeling from the Pantheon's fall, Algalon was staggered by Andreas' rapid barrage.
"Wait, Night Elf. First I must be certain."
Algalon stared hard at Andreas. "As a native of Azeroth, where did you obtain such cosmic-level secrets?"
"Hmph!"
From the void came a cold snort of displeasure; Algalon's ramrod-straight frame buckled as if bearing infinite weight.
"This is—"
For the first time Algalon showed surprise, lifting his gaze toward the depths of the observatory's hologram.
"You… no, You are—"
Elune spoke warningly, "Call me Elune, Constellar. I am now one of Azeroth's guardian deities; the locals name me the Moon Goddess."
"…Understood."
Algalon bowed respectfully. "I had not expected Azeroth to enjoy Your protection; my oversight made me rash."
"Hah—no harm; ignorance forgives itself."
"Go. Follow my servant's counsel: find the giver of life; she will be the key to retaking Argus and defeating the Legion."
"As You will."
As Elune's pressure lifted, Algalon exhaled visibly; Loken wiped cold sweat from his brow.
Stealing a glance at unruffled Andreas, Loken twitched inwardly: That lord is still terrifying; only blissfully clueless Andreas can ignore her pressure.
After a hesitation Algalon rose. "Great Elder Loken, I shall seek the giver of life's refuge as ordered. Azeroth is yours for now."
He gave Andreas a long look and, chastened, said before leaving, "Andreas, see that you honor your word and provide aid once I locate the giver of life."
"I believe we are not alone in searching for Eonar. Resolve Azeroth's internal crises quickly—the fate of the universe may hinge on her safety."