With a cry that was of relief, not anguish, Malfurion shed his foul trappings. The black, thorned leaves melted away. The branches that had been his arms and hands shrank and untwisted. The roots withdrew, then became feet, which, in turn, became part of two separate legs again.
And the dark, diseased green that had been his coloring burned away to the brilliant emerald of his dreamform.
No…came the Nightmare Lord’s voice. It is not so simple as that…
The shadows of several branches crossed Malfurion’s chest.
Despite neither they nor him having any solidity — or perhaps because of that fact — the night elf felt as if his chest were being crushed. The euphoria of his escape vanished as he felt his foe once more slipping into his thoughts and his very soul.
“Mal!” Tyrande shouted. She and Broll both surged toward the stricken archdruid. To his credit, the human followed.
Thura stood dumbstruck, the results of her attack hardly what she had expected. Her expression was that of someone just realizing that they had been tricked.
More shadow branches descended, brushing aside with ease Malfurion’s would-be rescuers. Thura, realizing what was the greater threat, swung at one of the shadows draping her former target’s chest.
There was a hiss as the magical wood touched the shadows.
One of the shadow branches flew off as if made of substance. It landed some distance away, where it faded to nothing.
The Nightmare Lord howled, almost causing Malfurion to black out.
The ground erupted at Thura’s feet. Shadow roots seized her legs and as they did, the orc suddenly let out a cry. One hand let go of the ax to claw at the air. The other’s grip weakened dangerously.
The Nightmare means for her to lose Brox’s ax! Malfurion struggled to help her, but the shadows squeezed tighter against his chest.
Come…he heard his captor murmur. Come…
But the archdruid had no intention of surrendering to the darkness. He strained and at the very least seemed to keep from being crushed.
All around them, the green dragons cleansed the area of the Nightmare. The only tendril still extending so far was around Malfurion and the shadow tree. Yet even despite the obvious threat of defeat, the Nightmare’s master would not release him.
Malfurion understood why. The Nightmare needed him. He was key to the Nightmare’s growth in both the Dream and Azeroth.
But others understood that as well. The shadow tree was abruptly bathed with the pure energies of both nature and dreams.
The tree shivered while at the same time the night elf experienced a sense of euphoria.
Only one being could wield the power so in his mind and struggling to look up, he saw that she now hovered over them.
“No taint of shadow shall be left in my domain!” Ysera called.
Her eyes were shut, but Malfurion knew that she saw with more accuracy than anyone where her foe was most vulnerable. “No child of mine left to Nightmare…”
Ysera opened her eyes. The Aspect’s gaze sparkled and though it did not seem at all threatening to Malfurion, he sensed the dismay and fear that it brought out of his captor. The shadow branches fled the druid.
One of the other green dragons dove down to just above the group. Ysera’s servant used magic to pluck up everyone, including Thura. It did not matter even that Malfurion was in dreamform; the dragon’s magic lifted him as if he were flesh.
But as they were carried up into the sky, the archdruid heard the cry of a dragon ring out from near another region of the mists.
From where he floated, Malfurion caught a glimpse of a large male of Ysera’s dragonflight.
Eranikus.
Malfurion was well aware of the consort’s troubled past and had sensed his presence on recent occasion. He had not expected Eranikus to be here, but was also not entirely surprised. Perhaps having sought to further redeem himself, the once-corrupted male had evidently moved with too much confidence toward the Nightmare.
And now it had him. Hundreds of horrific hands of mist clutched him tight. Within moments, all that was visible was his head, one forepaw, and a wing. He looked to Ysera in fear.
The Aspect reacted. She turned to rescue her mate, only for a moment turning her attention from the Nightmare —
And that was when the shadow tree swelled to a terrible size and seized her.
The ghoulish branches engulfed Ysera. Before even she could react, they thrust back, tossing her into the mists.
As that happened, Eranikus let out a savage laugh. His form shifted…revealing the insidious Lethon. Lethon’s foul visage mocked the stunned defenders for a moment before the corrupted dragon, completely shed of the powerful illusion, vanished after the Nightmare’s true prize…Ysera.
The other dragons immediately moved to rescue their mistress, but the Nightmare surged forward again with a ferocity that none, not even Malfurion, would have expected from it. Like a thousand krakens, tendrils of mist stretched out to seize the unwary. Two more of the green dragonflight were taken before the remaining green dragons reluctantly retreated.
As for Malfurion, he screamed in denial of what had happened.
If not for Ysera seeking to save him, she would not have been lost.
The Nightmare expanded, rushing toward its adversaries with the pace of a raging river. The tendrils whipped about. There was no choice but for all of them to flee.
Yet, even knowing that, the archdruid fought to free himself from the safety of the green dragon’s magic. He could not — would not — leave Ysera as prisoner of the awful power within.
Then, though the mist continued to surge on, it also dissipated some. Some of those among the green dragons took this as a sign of weakness, that perhaps having seized the mistress of the Dream that the Nightmare had overextended itself.
It was too late for Malfurion to warn the foremost of those impetuous behemoths. The first dragon who so eagerly dove toward the mist only made it that much more simple for the tendrils to seize her. Like those before, she was swallowed whole.
The rest were driven back. Indeed, Malfurion sensed those defending against the evil elsewhere were also pushed into abrupt retreat. It was as if they faced an entirely new and far more formidable adversary. Dragons, ancients, druids…they all fell back if they did not wish to join those already lost.
Yet, in the wake of their escape, the mist continued to fade.
Slowly, the distorted landscape that had once been the Emerald Dream became more distinct. Once proud hills were now covered in blackened pockmarks and vermin crawled over them as if atop great nests. What trees there were had been stripped of most of their leaves and were now covered in small reddish suckers that moved like mouths and bore teeth. The branches twisted and turned as if constantly seeking anything unwary enough to step within their reach.
The ground was saturated not only with the bugs and other crawlers, but more of the sickening pus that oozed from jagged crevices now opening up everywhere. The stench of decay filled the air worse than ever.
And then the Nightmare at last revealed to the others what Malfurion already knew, at last revealed what it had most kept hidden. He had hoped that with his escape, its evil would be at least reduced, but that was not so. Indeed, it had become even more horrifying than what his captor had previously shown him.
Wherever the mist existed, so, too, did they cluster. Their ranks spread on as far as the eye could see and he knew farther than that. Worse, they were multiplying by the second, each face akin only in its anguish and hunger.