The summons to return to the Chamber of the Air was not too long in coming. For the third time, Jaina stood in the center of the strange but beautiful room, regarding the council with enforced calmness.
“Lady Jaina Proudmoore,” Khadgar said, “before I tell you our verdict, know this: We utterly condemn the attack on Theramore with all our hearts, down to a member. It was cowardly and despicable. The Horde will learn of our displeasure and be cautioned against the usage of such wanton destruction. But this is a troubled time indeed. Especially for those of us who wield and would regulate and manage magic. A short time ago, we chose to offer our expertise and wisdom. We even agreed to help defend Theramore. Because of that decision, we were betrayed by one of our own and lost several fine magi, including our leader, Archmage Rhonin. Magic is in a dire state in this world now, Lady. No one is sure who’s supposed to be doing what. The blues no longer have an Aspect; they have lost a precious artifact that has been used for destruction; and we don’t even have a leader to guide us or take responsibility.”
Jaina felt a cold sensation in the pit of her stomach and fought to keep her hands from clenching. She knew what they were about to say.
“We can’t take care of Azeroth if we are in disarray ourselves,” Khadgar said. “We’ve got to reform, examine just what exactly went wrong. We can’t give what we don’t have, Lady. And what we don’t have is any real sense of what needs to happen next. You’ve come to ask us to throw the full force of our magi behind the Alliance. You’ve asked us to transport Dalaran to Orgrimmar and rain destruction down upon an entire city. We can’t do that, Jaina. We simply can’t. We’ve only just figured out we’re grown-up enough to deal with having Horde representatives among us, Sunreavers, and now you want us to destroy Orgrimmar? The world would erupt in civil war, and our part in it would ensure this very city, which has endured so much, would also be divided. And even if we weren’t, even if Dalaran and the Kirin Tor were in a state where we could handle this, there are merchants and craftsmen and innkeepers and travelers who never marched on Theramore. For pity’s sake, there’s an orphanage in Orgrimmar, my lady! We can’t—we won’t—obliterate innocents.”
Jaina had to take a moment to make her voice steady enough to speak. “The orphans there will grow up to become Horde,” she said. “They are being taught to hate us, to plot against us. There are no innocents in that Light-forsaken city, Khadgar. There are no innocents anywhere. Not anymore.”
Before Khadgar could speak, she had conjured the portal. The last thing she saw before she stepped through was his young-old eyes filled with sorrow.
Jaina did not go far. Her destination was the main library. She had been here before, long ago, when she had lived and studied in Dalaran. As she crossed the threshold in the company of one of the Kirin Tor librarians, she felt the very air of the place brush against her body, then subside. In years past, she had cast a recognition spell in order to enter safely; the library wards still remembered her.
The librarian respected her request to be alone to peruse the books. He, as Khadgar had, looked at her with sad, sympathetic eyes. She did not want his sympathy, but she was willing to use it for her own purposes. Her request for solitude in this vast storehouse of books and scrolls had nothing to do with her alleged desire for quiet and reflection.
Once the sound of his footfalls had died away and she was certain she would not be disturbed, Jaina turned her attention to the books. It was a daunting task, to be certain. The room was enormous and filled with shelf after shelf that towered high into the air. Jaina knew from experience there was no real order here; chaos and illogical filing methods would help to confound more mundane thieves yet be no hindrance to magic.
She flicked her right hand. A small radiance appeared at the tips of the fingers, and she pressed the glowing digits to her temples for a moment. Then she extended her hand. The faint light-purple radiance left her fingers, like a tiny tendril of fog, and rose to the topmost shelf. While Jaina examined copies of books and read the labels of scroll cases with more ordinary senses, the arcane mist was seeking something else.
Time passed. Jaina found many tomes that, in the past, she could have happily curled up with for days. Now they held no interest for her. She was single-minded and pure of purpose. Title by title she read and discarded. This was Dalaran. It had to be here.
There came a sudden flash in the corner of her eye and she turned, smiling. The little arcane mist had accomplished its task. It had found something on a shelf that contained some of the library’s rarest tomes, the most dangerous, the ones that were carefully locked with magical seals. Even the ones that weren’t visible.
Jaina quickly scanned the titles. Dreaming with Dragons: The True History of the Aspects of Azeroth. Death, Undeath, and In Between. What the Titans Knew.
The Sixth Element: Additional Methods of Arcane Augmentation and Manipulation.
Gently, she placed her hand on the spine of the book. It felt as if she were touching a living thing. It almost… quivered beneath her questing fingers. She pulled it out, and immediately it began to glow violet as the protective wards hummed. Jaina gasped and nearly dropped the book as an image formed, made of purple smoke.
Archmage Antonidas’s visage peered at her, stern and cautionary. “This is not for idle hands, nor prying eyes,” the familiar, loved voice said. “Information must not be lost. But it must not be used unwisely. Stay your hand, friend, or proceed—if you know the way.”
Jaina bit her lip as Antonidas’s visage faded. Each mage who consigned a book to the great library put his or her own warding seal on it. That meant that Antonidas had discovered this book, probably before Jaina was even born, and placed it on this shelf. Judging by the dust, it had not been disturbed since. Was it a sign of some sort? That she was meant to find this?
The book continued to glow. She did not know the proper words to open it easily and so had to resort to a less pleasant method. She could force the seals to break, but she would have to act swiftly to avoid setting off magical alarms. Jaina sank into one of the comfortable chairs and placed the book on her lap. She took a deep, steadying breath and cleared her mind. Gazing at her right hand, she murmured an incantation of shattering. Her hand suddenly glowed bright purple.
Now she lifted her left hand and concentrated. The hand began to fade before her eyes, visible only because it was limned with pale violet light.
This could work, but only if she was very fast. She took another steadying breath, then placed her right hand down on the book.
Shatter.
The violet glow emanating from her hand danced and crackled over the book like lightning. She could feel it breaking the magical seal Antonidas had placed on the book, feel it… hurt as it was unwillingly forced open. She stared, not daring to blink. The very instant that the violet lightning started to subside, she slammed her left hand over the tome.
Silence.
A field flared to bright white life, encircling the book, silencing the magical cry it emitted. Slowly, the glow on both hands faded, and her left one gradually became visible.
She’d done it.
Quickly and carefully, mindful of the book’s age, Jaina began to leaf through it. There were all kinds of illustrations of magical items. Jaina didn’t recognize most of them. It seemed that many things had been lost to time and—
There it was. The Focusing Iris. She began to read, skimming over the compelling but now unnecessary details as to how the blue dragons had created it and the various things it had been used for. She didn’t care what it had done. She knew firsthand what it had done. She wanted to know what could be done with it now.