Into the Light

03 | A REQUEST

The portal's light coalesced around Tyrande, cocooning her in a seamless space of glowing white. She waited, impatient, as the transfer completed, moving her and her escort from Darnassus to Dalaran. Now she had made up her mind, she wanted to press on and reach Malfurion as soon as possible. But first, one thing must be done, just in case everything went wrong.

The white light suffused. They had arrived. The noise of Krasus's Landing reached Tyrande's senses first, followed by a riot of colour and movement. It materialised into a swarm of Alliance and Horde races, jostling and pushing each other as they bartered with the various Flight Masters for rides into the Broken Isles. Her saber cat mount snarled, disliking the chaos.

Compared to the steady calm of Darnassus, the transition was jarring. Her mount bared her fangs at the motley crowd of adventurers and opportunists loitering around the portal's exit. Tyrande suppressed a smile as a cluster of goblins scuttled out of the way, dragging their bulging bags of bizarre wares behind them. How she disliked that race, so destructive and greedy.

"Good girl," she murmured, patting the cat's shoulder.

Flanked by her Moon Guard, Tyrande guided her mount through the throng to the grand staircase of the Violet Citadel, home of the Council of the Kirin Tor. She rode up the stairs into the Council Chamber, ignoring the outraged murmurs of the younger mages. Clearly they had no idea who she was. Tyrande shook her head, Azeroth had changed so much, to think after all she had done, the day would come when she would not be recognised on sight.

A crash made her glance to the side. Several mages hurried to collect a stack of fallen books and place them back onto the table, reprimanding a red-faced female apprentice for her carelessness. Tyrande pressed on, longing to return to sacred peace and order of Darnassus; humans were so noisy. So tiresome. She passed through the grand arch, glowing with arcane runes into the Citadel's Inner Sanctum. Khadgar turned, his eyebrows lifted, betraying his surprise, though he quickly concealed it. He left the others to continue examining a text floating in the air. He crossed the room, and bowed.

"My Lady Tyrande, you honour us with your presence."

Tyrande didn't bother to dismount, she didn't intend to stay long. "Archmage Khadgar, I should like to speak with you. Alone." She caught the quirk of his brow, and the sharp look he received from Archmage Modera. Tyrande tilted her head, acknowledging her. Modera dipped her chin in return, her expression, as always, enigmatic.

Khadgar muttered a quick spell. An opaque bubble sprang up, enclosing them. Cerulean blue runes cascaded down its sides. Tyrande found the effect pleasing. She caught Khadgar's eyes.

"I have little time. You are the only one I can trust with what I am about to tell you. Illidan lives again."

An ornate chair appeared behind Khadgar. He sank down upon it, pale.

"No. It cannot be. The Na'aru Xe'ra, told me just yesterday we still had time to stop Gul'dan from bringing Illidan back." He looked down at his hands, clenching into fists. "Where is he?"

"The Twisting Nether."

Khadgar stared at Tyrande, disbelieving. "My Lady, you must be mistaken. No one is able to contact the living from the Nether. It is--"

"Nevertheless, it is so. I did not endure a portal transition to debate this point with you. Accept what I am saying as fact, since you have no other choice. You were not with him. I was."

Khadgar's lips thinned, but he nodded. Tyrande's mount stretched, and yawned, oblivious to the runes, and the bubble. Tyrande pressed on.

"I must go to him, and support him in his fight against Gul'dan. I need you to arrange for me to meet with Xe'ra. I am not sure how to enter the Nether while I am alive, but if any being knows the answer to this question, it will be her."

The chair vanished as Khadgar came to his feet, astonished. "My Lady, the Twisting Nether is the realm of disconnected souls, it would take the power of a god, or even a titan for a living soul to bypass those boundaries. And . . . even if Xe'ra were to know of a way in, you may become trapped there forever. Drifting, alone and conscious, neither dead or alive, for eternity." He shuddered, his abhorrence palpable. "It is the worst fate imaginable. No. I cannot be a part of this. Not even for you. It is too dangerous."

Tyrande pushed aside her rising qualms, his words and demeanour had struck a raw nerve. In her most private thoughts, she had wondered the same herself. But what was her life against all those of Azeroth? If she did nothing, they would all be vanquished. There was no alternative. She continued, softening her voice.

"Illidan cannot do this alone. If we leave him, just like all the other times we have done before, Gul'dan will win, and Illidan will become the avatar of Sargeras. Illidan alone stands against the Legion. He can break them from within, if we help him. If we don't, it is just a matter of time before Azeroth will fall under his command."

Khadgar blinked, taken aback. "But why must it be you? What can you do that one of the Archmages who are familiar with the Nether, could not? Kalec would be a better choice, by any account."

Tyrande stroked her mount's shoulder, thinking of how Illidan had looked at her, his eyes his own again, not the horrible burned-out ones filled with demonic light. Her heart skipped a beat. What was happening to her? What had passed between them that one time during the War of the Ancients was a mistake, long buried and forgotten. She pushed the memory aside, and met Khadgar's eyes.

"Because Illidan needs the Light. As her High Priestess, I am able to bring the Light of Elune to him and protect him with it, for as long as I am able. And . . . with me there, he will not be alone as Gul'dan preys upon him. In that place, it counts for much."

"I assume you have not yet told Malfurion of your intentions?"

Tyrande shook her head, unwilling to speak of it.

Khadgar's eyebrow quirked. "He will never agree. He has never forgiven Illidan for his betrayal at Nordrassil, nor his multitude of crimes which came after. To tell Malfurion of your plans while the Emerald Dream is turned to Nightmare, and his mentor Cenarius remains on the brink of death is a dangerous path." Khadgar paused, glancing back in the direction of the others. "I beg you, reconsider. Let the Council deliberate on this matter, if we had some time, we could make a projection into the Nether and find Illidan. Perhaps there are spells which could be woven using the energy of the time streams. I'm certain Chromie would--"

"Enough. It is not Malfurion's decision, it is mine. Neither do we have the luxury of time for the Council to confer and deliberate. I must go to Illidan. Tomorrow, at the latest. You do not know what Gul'dan is doing to him. I do. Illidan will not last much longer."

Khadgar sighed. "So be it. But I will not accept there is not more I can do to aid you."

Tyrande eyed Khadgar. "There is another matter, equally important, which I need you to address while I am away."

"Anything."

"Illidan's body is in the Tomb of Sargeras, in the Chamber of the Eye. You need to take it out of Gul'dan's hands."

Khadgar took a step back, uneasy. "Ah. That could take some time. We are still trying to gather the Pillars together, and there is some dissention between the factions of the Broken Isles, it is difficult to bring them together to face a single purpose. It is much to ask," he shook his head, resigned. "Politics. It always comes down to politics. This matter between Greymane and Sylvanas . . . it has greatly complicated our situation."

Tyrande held up her hand. "None of their petty quarrels will amount to anything more than dust should we fail Illidan. Without him, we will all fall, every man, woman, and child. It is your job to convince them of this. I am depending on you. Send a message when Xe'ra is ready to meet me. I will not keep her waiting." Tyrande turned her mount toward the exit. "Farewell Khadgar, and may Elune grant us the chance to meet again under better circumstances."

The bubble surrounding them dissipated, taking the cascading runes with it. The noise of humanity once more assaulted Tyrande's ears. She nodded to her Moon Guard. She had done all she could here. It was time to enter the Nightmare and find her consort.