Into the Light

14 | HIDDEN NO MORE

A scream. Illidan strained against the tethers, fighting the words he was being forced to utter. "Find . . . her body, and bring her here. She is . . . in the Nether, channelling another, using their power to fight you, and heal Illidan."

Tyrande had gone into the Nether to protect Illidan? Gul'dan was impressed, he hadn't expected that. Sargeras said she was channelling another. He searched his mind. It would take the power of a god for her to enter the Void and still live. If it was Tyrande who had gone, there could only be one candidate. He glanced up, sharp, hoping against hope he was right.

"She is using Elune's Light to stop the tethers."

The hybrid smiled, twisted, triumphant. "Bring her body here, and use the tethers on both of them. Let her fight you, and drain Elune's Light. When she is weak enough, we will trap the Goddess inside her avatar." It chuckled, Illidan's face contorted, grotesque. "A worthy consort."

Illidan's body sagged, lifeless once more. Gul'dan tapped his fingers against his staff, considering what he must do. His knee began to ache. He wasn't used to kneeling. He rose, stiff, and gestured to the Eredar to cease in their labours. He waited until the prisoners were taken away before channelling into air.

"Show me where to find the woman, Tyrande."

His vision drifted over Azeroth, searching; seeking the tell-tale signs of Tyrande's signature imprint. Her power was so strong, even unconscious, she would be easy to detect. He felt a tendril tugging at him north of Orgrimmar. They had laid her body in Nordrassil? His lip curled with distaste. How provincial. He sped up the sheer walls of Mount Hyjal, anticipating finding her within one of the barrow dens. He searched them all, his irritation growing as her imprint ebbed and faded. Nothing. Hmmm. There, another tug. Further north still. He laughed. Of course. Why hadn't he thought to look there first?

He sailed down the side of Mount Hyjal, skimming over the trees of Winterspring. Another range of mountains, he slipped over them, her pull growing stronger. He knew it, they had placed her in the sacred barrow den of Moonglade, the very one used by Malfurion. He scoffed, derisive. How romantic.

He sped into the den, delving deep into its depths, following its twisting paths. He arrived at an empty den, and a dead end. He cursed and turned back. Her imprint saturated the place, he would have to find her the hard way.

He pressed on, determined, suppressing his impatience and deepening aggravation. Four times more he found himself deceived by the twisting tunnels. He raced back to the center and rotated in a slow circle. He had followed all of the branches, and each of the branches breaking away from those.

He stopped, and narrowed his eyes. A rock lay at an odd angle against the otherwise smooth surface of the barrow's curving walls. He moved closer, inspecting it. The shadows deepened, he pushed into them, blind, expecting to hit a wall. He didn't. He kept going. His brow lifted. A hidden path, clever, but not clever enough. He followed the steep descent, the tunnel burrowing deep beneath the mountains above.

He licked his lips, filled with anticipation. Her imprint called to him, his senses tingled with it. He was so close. He relished the thought of what was to come. To think he would not only provide his master with an avatar, but he would also create for him a consort, by capturing the goddess Elune herself. In his wildest dreams he had never expected his power to reach such heights. He had come far from his humble beginnings. Very far.

The path curved back onto itself, ending at a door, glowing with runes. He drifted through it, into a small den, luxuriously furnished. Rugs in rich purple and gold covered the earthen floor. Sconces held glowing wisps of blue light, and a small, smokeless fire burned in a little brazier set near the bed, filling the little chamber with warmth. How charming. Night elves certainly were fond of their little comforts.

He moved closer to the bed, Tyrande lay completely still. To look at her, she appeared dead. As lifeless as Illidan was when he took him from the Vault of the Wardens. He looked around, considering. There was no one around. He could materialise beside her, conjure a portal and bring her back before anyone was the wiser. He began to utter the incantation to begin his teleportation when the door opened with a soft creak. Startled, he waved his hand, and retreated back to his state of observation.

Malfurion entered, followed by two female attendants carrying towels over their arms, trays containing two bowls, and a variety of pretty stoppered vials. Gul'dan hissed, frustrated. Now he had found Tyrande, he wanted to get this errand over with so he could return to his original task. But, a part of him reminded him, it would be better to be patient. If he could take her without anyone knowing who had her, his advantage would be enormous. The two attendants knelt beside Tyrande. One began to undress her, while the other mixed the contents of the vials together in a bowl, preparing the waters to bathe her

A whisper crept into his brain, insidious. "Stop wasting time. Take her."

The hairs on the back of Gul'dan's neck lifted. He turned, slow, from his view into the den. The hybrid had awoken once more. He gazed at Tyrande, its unreadable eyes burning, molten gold. Hunger showed on its features, but whether it was Illidan's or Sargeras's mind which was upon the creature--or even a bizarre allegiance between the two--it was difficult to tell.

Gul'dan gestured at the sundered space. "Not while Malfurion is there."

The hybrid's eyes narrowed into slits. "Show me."

Gul'dan shifted to the side, so he would both no longer obstruct the creature's view and be able to keep an eye on it. He didn't like the feel of its eyes on his back. He tilted his staff, and rotated the view so it faced the door. Oblivious to Gul'dan's intrusion, Malfurion paced the confines of the narrow den, his eyes moving from the floor to his wife and back again.

Gul'dan glanced up and caught the creature smiling, malevolent. "He looks worried. He should be. Soon she will be mine, as she always should have been."

"So, it is Illidan this time--or at least the part of him I have brought back."

The hybrid jerked its head at the den. "Quiet, fool. Show her to me again." It licked its lips. "I want to see her."

Gul'dan tipped his staff once more, and the view turned again. Tyrande lay naked atop her bed, with only a set of towels covering her breasts and groin. The women washed her arms with gentle movements, singing softly to her.

The creature groaned. "I will not wait. Bring her to me. Now."

Gul'dan's jaw stiffened. It needed to learn who was in charge. Until Sargeras took Illidan over, the hybrid was Gul'dan's servant, not the other way around. Gul'dan shook his head. "When they are gone. I will not reveal my hand when there is no need. Our master would want it so."