Rebellion 13.1 A/C/A/J (Patreon)

When she had first been posted to watch over the borders of the forest, to watch for intruders that dared approach the sacred woods of Ashenvale, Anessa had imagined daring battles against the beasts of the plains and the defilers of the once verdant lands south of the Stonetalon mountains.

Over the years that youthful enthusiasm had waned, the highlight of her months-long sojourns on the frontiers being the occasional shot at quillboar or centaur that wandered within range of the forest's edge. Never inside, where she would have reason to fight and kill them, to prove her skills, but mere warning shots to ward them away. It was all so... simple.

Peaceful, as the forests ought to be, but still dull for one who had grown up hearing the legendary struggles High Priestess Whisperwind and General Feathermoon had gone through to secure the forests long ago.

Which was why when something did disturb the forest, a strange and unusual pair entering Ashenvale atop a flying beast with the head of an eagle and the hindquarters of a lion, she took the time to enjoy the hunt. The thrill of finally taking part in the sacred duty of a Sentinel to protect the forests and the druids, like Papa, as they slept.

This was her chance to prove herself, to stop the others from thinking of her as the child simply because she was still in her first century.

Creeping close amongst the trees none of the three noticed her, not the blind green-skinned brute, the stunted red-haired male, nor the beast itself. The shadows of the forest folded around her to hide her from any revealing light, the spirits and animals silently accepting her passage, and the wind holding steady as she held herself downwind. Drawing her bow she readied her first shot, the bow a work of art that would fly true a thousand times out of a thousand to end the life of the pitiful creatures...

But she paused. Out of a bag too small to carry them, three wolfen creatures emerged. The first was a misshapen pup, like those that lurked in the shrine of the White Wolf, but the other two were... odd. Ever so slightly different from what a true wolf should be.

And to one, whose six tails waved behind them, the forest bent in curiosity and surprise. Something she had only witnessed towards the ancients, or the sons and daughters of the Forest Lord. "What are you?" She whispered curiously, a flicker of wonder in her heart.

"That is a deeply uncomfortable way to travel." The six-tailed canine grumbled, its words resonating with the woods as it – he stretched. Stopping to listen to the others, whose words were harsh and barking, the canine slapped its tails against the misshapen pup. "You didn't have to sit in a pup's piss for the last three hours! Wise-ear needs to be potty trained."

A moment later the other strange canine shifted, their form bending and warping, until in its place stood another strange being. A druid, like Papa, but unlike any druid she had ever seen... his skin was pink.

The words the druid spoke were not ones she understood, more of the same harsh barking that the others had used, and yet Anessa could tell he was joking with the strange son of Goldrinn. Making fun of their suffering as he stretched out sore limbs.

Her duty dictated that she should drive the intruders from Ashenvale, kill them if they lingered at all, but no one had ever considered a foreign druid entering their realm.

Had there been others taught by the Lord of the Forest before Archdruid Stormrage had become his pupil? It seemed unthinkable, Papa had certainly never spoken of such possibilities when he steered her onto the path of a sentinel. Yet the proof of such seemed to stand before her. "High Priestess Tyrande needs to hear about this..." She whispered into the wind.

Anessa couldn't help but wonder, just a little, if they also refused to teach women to be druids. She'd never been unhappy with being a sentinel, but being closer to Papa... it would be nice.

"We've got a long way to go still." The son of Goldrinn said as the druid asked the trees to shed wood for a fire, which the forest granted just as it would for her if she needed the warmth. "Grandfather said that Stardust lay in the northern shadow of Stonetalon. Well, mostly he talked about the time he painted Great Aunt Ashamane purple by bespelling the waters before her noon shadow bath, but it's much the same thing."

He flicked his ears irritably as the druid barked snarkily and the green one started to chuckle. "Yes, Aderic, it was relevant. If it wasn't I wouldn't have said it; for one, Grandfather told me to use the same trick on my dear granduncle if I can."

"Elune grant me strength." Anessa whispered softly, lowering her bow. This was beyond her, a young sentinel, on a simple boring patrol along the forest's edge... but she didn't want to ignore it. To hand it over to someone else.

This was her hunt.

Thinking quickly she found a compromise that would satisfy her duty and her desires. Reaching into her pouch she withdrew a sheaf of parchment, using some of the precious ink she carried to mark down her findings. The first messenger owl she found, and she would seek them out, she would send back to Astrannar to inform Sentinel Wolfheart.

In the meantime, she would follow the strange intruders that the forest welcomed and ensure that they did not deviate from their path nor harm the forests. It was good Papa had gifted her the feather of a hippogryph when he last woke, much to Mother's chagrin.

-oOoOo-

"And tha's why ye cannae be trustin' wha' any greeskins tell ye withou' checkin' it thoroughly." MacGruff rumbled darkly, the dwarf – strange beings, different to yet so similar to the humans whom they travelled with – glaring fiercely at their travelling companions. "Ain't a shred o' honour in any o' them, I tell ya."

Cairne hummed deeply, keeping an open mind as he listened to the words of the one who had led several tribes to the safety of Mulgore. The animosity between the orcs and the pink-skinned peoples was palpable, never a day passing that one leader or the other did not need to quell some argument or squabbling fight.

Nor could he deny the bloodthirst, that hunger for battle, which flared amongst the orcs alongside their savagery and valour. Were they driven by demons as their elders had mentioned in protest, they may have been little better than the centaur.

Yet, that was not true of Thrall. The young warchief held himself well, seeking peace even as his people cried out for vengeance for the suffering they had felt.

He led the Grimtotem but wished to lead the Bloodhoof. It was a difficult road, one his old bones knew well, but one worth the price it placed upon those who walked it. "In those you fought once, blinded by their rage." Cairne offered calmly. "But not those we march beside, whom your own leaders wish to fight beside. If they did not see the valour and honour in their hearts, would they trust them so?"

MacGraff scowled, his fury expressed in the crackling storm that ran through his hammer; a great totem of storms all these Wildhammer bore. "I dinnae argue with 'em. But tha' dinnae mean I agree."

Without another word the dwarf stormed ahead, joining the ranks of the paladin who shone with the warmth of An'She and those few other pinkskins that were with them.

A shame. He had wished to converse further with the shaman, he may not hear the songs of the Earth Mother but his insight into the skies and the storms were truly without compare. Though Thrall might be stronger, there was more to understanding the elements than power.

"We be nearing da place, boss-mon." Shadow Hunter Rokhan said as he slipped out of the darkness of the caves, the troll having clearly earned his title. "Ruins with an elf statue on a big cat, an' a magic 'ting that whispered in my head."

Thrall grunted in acknowledgement. "Any signs of the prophet or Proudmoore's humans?"

"Heard some talkin'." Rokhan shrugged and stretched, waving his three-fingered hand towards the humans as he rose almost to Cairne's height before hunching over once more. "Bit like that lot, but I ain't knowing what they be sayin'."

"Then let us hurry." Uther spoke firmly, marching to the fore. "The sooner our business here is dealt with, the sooner we can prepare to fight the demons."

Cairne moved quickly, placing a stilling hand on Thrall's shoulders as the young warchief narrowed his eyes at the paladin. "I am sure the oracle's wisdom will be enlightening for us all." He would need to do more than pay with blood to ease his debt with the orcs; old bones were best suited for guiding the young to their true potential.

To not see an accusation where there was none, to recognise the ills of the past inflicted upon others, and to make amends would be necessary lessons before the young warchief had a hope of achieving peace.

"Yes, enlightening." Thrall rumbled glumly.

-oOoOo-

Aderic poked his head out of the saddlebags to loll his tongue in the wind, feeling the relief of taking his turn in the fresh air. It was convenient, giving space on their mount for the orcish shaman, but days of flying through a forest in cramped quarters with Nari and the shrunken Wise-Ear had been... less than pleasant.

In truth, and much to his surprise, he could say he would be glad to see the back of this forest as well. These were not his woods, this was not the comforting and claustrophobic domain of Tal'Doren; immense trees which challenged the mountains for dominion over the skies towered above them at all times, leaving little room for those species he knew to take root.

Ancient and majestic as this place was, powerful and vibrant, it was alien. Interesting though it might have been for a time, it wasn't home. A good place to visit, but no more than that.

"Lass still behind us?" Caedan asked gruffly, keeping his head firmly forward.

Drek'Thar held for a moment before answering in slightly halting common. "Yes, the elf still rides behind us. A hundred paces and no more."

Chirping his amusement Aderic lazily dropped his head, catching a glimpse of the girl urging her mount to fall into the underbrush to hide from them as he did so. Nari and Drek'Thar had both noticed her the first day, before they had even started their fire; unfortunately, Nari couldn't tell them that.

The forest seemed intent on turning his words into something all could understand, the ancient speech used by his lord and the Maiden of Dusk that spoke to one's very soul. And young or not, an elf was an elf.

Those ears weren't for show.

"And now she's three hundred paces behind." Drek'Thar corrected, batting at Aderic's ears in a silent reprimand.

"Whatever, we're there." Caedan grunted and Featherstorm let out a screech of agreement as they burst into a clearing over a circular lake, in which lay a single island on which white stone ruins lay. "Gonna land now before ye figure out some new way tae mess with tha' lassy."

His attention thoroughly diverted Aderic peered over the mess of ancient stones, some older than mountains and others mere millennia. Stardust, one of the rare places the likes of his lord, the Wild Gods, had gathered to mingle outside of the slopes of Mount Hyjal. He could see where the ancient works his lord had described had been mended, fallen utterly, and been built over with kaldorei structures.

Then once again left to rot, all but forgotten as those that had gathered here and made the place sacred drifted out of memory. Lord Renard would be furious to see it as it stood, filled with strangers that had claimed this place.

What might have occurred to the shrines atop the mountain, the places dedicated to each of them in ancient times where they would rest and raise their children? It might not have been the fox's home but it was still his. Would the kaldorei have failed in that task too?

They could not even reach it. It wouldn't be a single, too young, sentinel that greeted them if they tried to climb the slopes of Frey's sacred mountain.

Nari scrabbled up his side, claws digging into his side as the old fox stole the first chase to leap from the bag and land on the soil of the island. Aderic spat a litany of curses at him half-heartedly; in truth, he was looking forward to what Nari would do.

"Welcome, brother, to the Isle of Stardust. I am Keeper Ordanus and I have been expecting you." A tall figure, with the upper body of the kaldorei and the lower of a deer, spoke regally. He had a kind expression on his face beneath the truly majestic antlers atop his head. "I hope you remember my father's long lost kin, the great–"

"You aren't a bloody keeper, pissant." Nari spat at the 'keeper'. "Great-Grandmother was a keeper. You, cousin, are little more than a lazy brat ignoring the world around him as he plays pretend protector."

Clearly shocked the 'keeper' reeled back, and those around him, nymphs, treants, three towering ancients, and a scattering of elves paused and went still also.

The only thing that disturbed things was the young elf trailing them arriving, all but crashing her hippogryph into the ground as she caught up in a rush. A glance her way showed that she looked rather annoyed at all the elves that were present, their welcoming party.

Chortling out a laugh Aderic began the transition back into a human, dragging the process out for their audience.

"Of the keepers of old," Aderic intoned formally as he regained his voice, "the Dreamweaver, the Life Warder, the Shatterer of Stone, Keeper of the Wilds, Lady Frey, is whom we hold most sacred. She who took in those gods who arose from the world itself and raised them as her children." Tilting his head quizzically, he looked over the 'keeper' with blatantly fake deliberation. "You don't look much like her. Or... any of them, really."

Nari swished his tails, dismissing the magic he had used to shrink Wise-Ear as Drek'Thar lifted the 'pup' down to the ground. "Maybe Lokir. Maybe. Not that that's a good thing, but the leaving family behind to bleed and rot for ten thousand years sure fits."

"Why are you so angry?" One of the nymphs whispered while the 'keeper' took the time to collect himself.

Prowling forward, daring the elves to bar his path, Nari made for the centre of the isle. "Ten thousand years ago the children of the Life Warder heeded the call of the Shadow's Song, joining the battle against the Burning Shadow your kind brought into this world." One elf stood before him, for but a moment, before an ancient reached down and gently pushed them aside. "Wounded protecting your forebears my grandfather fled home, reeling and broken, cursed with sickness, he lay there for a thousand years before he woke."

Aderic trailed behind carefully even as he projected the same arrogance Nari was showing. Caedan and Drek'Thar, atop their mounts still, were more plain with their concern.

Neither had been expecting quite what was happening. The elves would be warned, whether they liked it or not, and millennia of grudges would be laid bare and their guilt would be made plain.

"That is joyous news!" One of the elves said happily. "I am sure that once Lord Cenarius has dealt with–"

"Where is that arrogant skiver anyway? Grandfather wanted me to tell him what he'd done personally." Nari cut her off quickly. "Visiting the same grove my grandfather slept in, utterly ignoring his bleeding body, and shoving a pile of cursed mistakes of his own making under our home... Tosser couldn't even take responsibility for his own bungling."

Ordanus tightened his willowy talons. "My father has spent millennia tending to the needs of the forest and the dream, safeguarding the world from all threats that face it. Even now he does so."

"Oh?" Aderic grinned up at him. "So he took part in the demonic invasion twenty years ago? I heard he was a pretty big fellow, would've thought someone would've spotted him." Shrugging he ignored the sudden change in attention. "Was it the one fourteen years ago, where the Dragon Queen was enslaved and her children used as weapons? Or... the one six bloody months ago?"

"What–"

"Nonsense, we would have–"

"Lord Cenarius–"

"If that had happened, High Priestess Tyrande would–"

"Are they trying to claim that these pathetic creatures beat back–"

All at once the dam broke and they let out their cacophony of protests, denying the possibility that they had failed in their self-appointed duties so utterly.

"Enough." The towering ancient spoke.

"But, Big Baobob–"

Oh, what a name the ancient had. It must be much more dignified in the elven tongue... maybe he'd let Aderic call him Bob?

"No." Bob's voice was the creaking of trees, the groaning of wood bending in the wind, the unyielding essence of the forest. Literal music to Aderic's ears. "Mother wishes to hear them. Not you."

"Grandfather never cared much for Great Aunt Aessina." Nari muttered, intentionally loud enough to be heard. "How is someone supposed to play with an insubstantial spirit who is both never present and also the entire forest? It's just not fair!"

The forested started to laugh, a tinkling and soft thing that echoed all around them before drawing closer, to the stones at the centre of the isle. Wispy light gathered together into the floating form of a face, widely grinning.

"The Silver Tongue runs true and remembers." Aessina, the Mother Wisp, one of the eldest of the Wild Gods whispered with the voice of the forest itself. The stirring of every leaf in the wind, every footfall upon its floor, every droplet of rain that fell upon the canopy, even the light itself dancing in the trees expressed with the sound. "Only he and another claimed us family. But we shall indulge, grandnephew."

Nari lowered his tails, settling them behind him. "As much as I, and Grandfather, would enjoy telling the elves just how many mistakes they have made, there is no time."

Reaching the old fox's side, Aderic bowed before the immaterial spirit before him. "As the fox speaker, empowered by my lord, the Silver Tongue, I shall speak the words he bid me bring to you. To the Kaldorei Empire. And, vitally, his nephew, Cenarius." He cleared his throat. "Seek the Shadow's Song, warn the Whispers of the Wind, wake the brothers of Storm's Rage; the pitted blood of man long lost comes again to finish what the Defiler began so long ago. Beneath the northern crown will battle be waged, to ward again against endings eternal."

"Or, tae be a bit more blunt," Caedan piped up as he found his nerve, "the demons be back and yer years late tae the party. They're gonna try tae kill her demigod before going for tha' mountain over there." He jabbed a thumb at the towering peak of Mount Hyjal.

Ordanas smiled and folded his arms. "Ah, then you have nothing to fear, mortals. For Lord Cenarius already marches to crush the demons before they can rally into this world. The beasts along the arid coast will not last long against his fury."

"Or, since Archimonde the Defiler is already on Azeroth," Nari said dryly, "the plonker is walking into a trap."

As the surrounding elves, all fortunately intelligent enough to recognise the demon general's name, erupted into a panic Bob rallied.

"Move." He ground out, starting to march across the isle. "Ordanus. Wake Malfurion, warn Tyrande."

"At... at once, ancient one." The rattled keeper said, his smugness utterly lost in an instant. Ah, it was good to see.

Aessina turned to Aderic, the weight of the forest pressing down on him. It almost felt like home under Talloren's gaze, in some ways. "And what will you be doing, Speaker for my Brother?"

He shrugged. "Seeking the Shadow's Song, what else? Specifically the not-crazy one, Jarod." He added quickly; If Gwyneth were here she would like try to push for rescuing Cenarius, stopping his foolishness, but they didn't have time for that. His lord had been clear, the only one amongst the elves he and his kin had truly respected was the Shadowsong; the rest were... inept at trusting others. Any true defence against the Legion would be incomplete without him. "I've heard... stories about Maiev."

"Your unwitting escort shall guide you to him." The Wisp Mother stated before winking out of existence.

As one, their group turned towards the young elf that stood apart from the others, her purple skin paling before their eyes as what was going on settled into her mind. The look on her face was quite amusing.

At least this part of the trip wouldn't be boring.

-oOoOo-

"That explains so much about the nature of this place." Jaina said excitedly, the feeling of discovery pushing aside her worries and doubts for a few moments. "A magical nexus that has yet to suffer a temporal disturbance, rippling backward and forward through time, and causing so many anomalies that they themselves form their own temporal disturbances!"

It truly was fascinating. Fragments of the past and future, even from those which had never been and could never be scattered within the ancient catacombs and the surrounding caves.

And through it all, the myth of the Oracle of Stonetalon stretching back through centuries, perhaps even Millennia, despite said oracle only having been present for a few weeks. The very same oracle, the prophet, whom she was speaking to now.

A good distraction from the question of what was taking Thrall so long, what had led to Uther being delayed, and whether she had made a mistake by trying to follow the path laid out for her. Sometimes it seemed as if Gwyneth knew all there was to know, that her predictions were the safest path forward, yet at others she wondered if enough had changed that a new path would have achieved better results.

Ones that cost the people who had trusted her with their lives, their futures, less to tread.

The prophet, Medivh – sometimes it was easy to forget he was the legendary Guardian who had damned the world – dipped his head. "Our world is filled with more mysteries than any one mind could imagine, even that of the little raven."

Of course, that was another thing she had to wonder about. Time and again he seemed all but able to read her mind, answering questions she had yet to even ask.

"Speaking of the little raven, I have been wondering about your transformations." She said instead, putting aside his comment for the moment. "Not even Master Krasus was known to be able to transform as easily as you do, and he is a master of polymorphic magic. Becoming an animal without losing some degree of sapience or suffering a loss of control simply doesn't seem possible within existing formulas."

Beneath the shadows of his hood, Jaina could see the faintest hint of a smile on the Guardian's lips. "You remind me much of Young Trust, Lady Proudmoore. However, you are not my apprentice, and telling you would be revealing secrets that are not mine to give."

Huffing disappointedly Jaina looked behind her, out across the chasm– the bridge of light which shimmered over the great rent in the mountain.

"They approach." Medivh said redundantly. "Much has changed, yet here the beginnings of our resistance against the Burning Legion can begin."

Remembering her own thoughts as she arrived on Kalimdor, Jaina had to stifle a snorting laugh and recompose herself before their guests arrived. Lord Uther, striding confidently at the front, led the way. MacGraff followed close at his heels, as did MacLaine and a squad of footmen.

Brave Windtotem, the tauren that Alicia had found and rescued before their arrival, walked beside a venerable old bull. The greying brown fur of what could only be Cairne Bloodhoof stood in stark contrast to the black of the brave.

And wearing the armour which featured in so many stories, the raiment of a monster and demon worshipper, came the holder of the Doomhammer. Thrall.

The one Gwyneth had called the most honourable and kind orc in her writings.

"Welcome, Uther." She said with a smile. "I'm relieved to see you well. And you as well, Brave Windtotem, Thane Macgraff, Maclaine." She greeted her allies first before turning her attention to the others. "Chieftain Bloodhoof, Warchief Thrall, I have heard much about you both. I am Jaina Proudmoore and hope this will be–"

"Oracle. Hah! No, I should have known." Thrall growled in the common tongue as he stomped forward, the tension in the air rising as Jaina's guards put up their shields. "Why is it, human, that your kind were told so much more than I? Vague warnings and pleas were all that you offered me, yet they have maps, were told of my path, the destiny of my people."

"The Guardian has told us no more than you." Jaina said, though technically it was a lie... "Not of the future, nor of the threats we face." There, that was better.

Some of the insights into magic he had offered, even if he refused her last question, were simply incredible. To pretend he hadn't given her those would be entirely dishonest of her.

Thrall turned his bright blue eyes onto her, his lips pulled back to bare his tusks. "Do you truly expect me to believe that when I have witnessed what the prophet has granted you?" He thrust a hand at Uther. "When you knew to lay that one in my path?"

"Had I not, a greater force to prevent the centaur from chasing my people as we ascended Stonetalon would have been necessary." Jaina said diplomatically. "Kalimdor is not a peaceful land."

"If you will not listen to her, young warchief," Medivh said loudly, "then listen to me. It was not I who offered the foresight that Proudmoore bears; that boon, that blessing, was granted by the little raven, another prophet whose sight holds truer than even mine. Tell me, Old Bull, do the spirits claim my words a lie?"

Against the many stories told to her of the orcs by her father, Thrall did not simply disregard the Guardian's words and indulge in his anger. Instead, he turned to the Bloodhoof Chieftain, waiting as the tauren mused at the beard on his chin.

After a few moments, Carine shook his head. "You speak true, Oracle. As does the Daughter of the Seas." Looking to Thrall he looked almost sorrowful. "How long have these thoughts plagued you?"

"Since the day I met the paladin." Thrall replied, his fury visibly abating. "This was to be a land safe from conflict, and yet the humans followed us here. Yet the demons who enslaved us return again... what is the purpose of this meeting, Oracle? You wish us to fight against the demons' return, that much is clear, but if you know our past you know that our people will not cooperate."

Medivh smiled and shook his head, his wide grin unabashedly smug. "And yet, already that occurs. The first moments of cooperation have already begun, the first battles fought alongside, even as fate conspires to bring about the same dooms as foreseen hope springs forth for us all."

"You speak in riddles." Uther said grimly. "Of our expedition, who has found common cause with the orcs? Whom do they fight?"

"A dark shadow casts itself upon the land yet to be named, a river of fury flowing freely as those who hid their darkness strike out against their comrades." The Guardian continued, uncaring of Uther's demand. "The Forest's Lord marches, tricked and unprepared with the Whispers of the Wind await another, and the Brothers of Storm's Rage still slumber. Another brother, in blood spilled and not blood borne, holds true... for now."

Jaina's mind whirled as Medivh finished his speech, some aspects were plainly clear to her. The Brothers of Storm's Rage could only refer to Malfurion and Illidan, the Whispers of the Wind Tyrande, and the Forest Lord...

"Cenarius is going to fight Hellscream?" She asked quickly. "And he has yet to take up the demon's blood, as he would. But why?"

"It be obvious, mon." A troll slipped out from behind Thrall. "Some orcs still be worshipin' demons, ya? An' they be trickin' this big Loa mon into going after the warchief's brudda. Figure you got some guys with bad mojo too, lady."

Uther grimaced and tightened his grip on his hammer. "Cultists." He hissed.

"Grom would never serve the demons." Thrall growled furiously, his whole body trembling as his muscles flexed. "The blood–"

"He was the first to drink." The voice was that of an old man, or an old orc. A tired and sad old man. "Warchief, Grommash Hellscream was the first to drink. All the chieftains did save Durotan. I did. I can feel it in my veins, a heat I wished to never feel again, but it yearns..." The orc looked up, red eyes almost glowing. "We must hurry."

Silence reigned, Jaina shocked by an orc who would admit such a thing. Uther was the same, but most aghast of them all, was Thrall. The warchief all but gaping as he looked at the older orc.

"Varok..." He whispered into the quiet.

"This seems to be an orcish problem." Uther said, glowering at Thrall. "And an orc who deserves the fate which he would face."

"Past misdeeds are difficult to speak of." Windtotem offered softly, nodding his head to the now-named Varok. "To admit fault to purge the infection of a wound. This I know as one who was Grimtotem."

"Ye get a lot o' mileage from that saying, bull." MacGraff muttered, then spat on the floor. "Troll shit, fine. Mebe it be a orc problem, but it be a human problem tae, Uther. Or did ye nae hear him," he waved his hammer at Medivh, "say the lass who got here first were in trouble? We gotta go save a stupid bloody orc who went an' murdered one o' me clan's gryphons an' a big forest bugger with 'em to save her."

"Of course, the South Fury River." Jaina said with a snap of her fingers. "Alicia went there to scout for a passage that we could use to supply forces in Ashenvale, which means Hellscream must be in Durotar."

"Indeed." Medivh smiled. "Hurry you must, as the Saurfang says, if you wish to save two from the fates they were doomed to meet. True freedom awaits those who dare."

With that he retreated into the shadows and was gone, leaving them alone.

Thrall hesitated, hands opening and closing in front of him as he processed what he heard. Then the hand of Cairne landed on his shoulder and he jumped.

"There will be time to question the past in the future, young warchief." He said serenely. "Now is the time for battle against a foe truly worthy of it, and with allies whom we might forge bonds of brotherhood in battle. As you and I did."

"Yes." Thrall said, closing his fists as he met Jaina's gaze once more, no longer angry but now evaluating. "As you and I did."