The night elf gazed around the barely seen glade. There was no hint even of Remulos. Surely the Moonglade’s guardian would have appeared upon sensing Malfurion’s waking presence. Malfurion reached out with his thoughts but could still not find Cenarius’s son.
Had Remulos also joined the other druids?
The irony that he was as alone on Azeroth as he had been when a captive of the Nightmare Lord was not lost upon the archdruid.
He started to ponder this — and then wondered why he was wasting more of his time instead of acting immediately, as he should.
Malfurion concentrated. Immediately, his surroundings wavered
…and only then did he discover the true danger.
He had been daydreaming. It had not been his doing. The Nightmare was so powerful that it saturated the Moonglade.
Caught up in his concerns for the others, the archdruid had not noticed when he had begun to slip into this half-slumbering state. It had likely been what had taken the priestesses guarding his body.
But the Nightmare had not been satisfied with that. Malfurion stirred to find himself under assault from the very glade itself.
The grass twisted around his legs, torso, and arms. The trees bent to smother him. They were all touched by the familiar dark corruption he had seen in the Emerald Dream…only this was the waking world. The Nightmare Lord had seized upon Ysera’s great power to break the final barrier between dream and reality.
For just a brief moment Malfurion considered giving in to his doom. He was responsible for the Aspect’s fall and for Azeroth’s danger. Yet that thought quickly faded as Tyrande’s trusting face formed in his thoughts.
The archdruid concentrated. This is not your nature, he reminded the grass, the trees. This is a perversion of what you are a part of…
He felt the grass begin to loosen. The trees, however, did not yet respond. They began to shake at their roots, as if seeking to free themselves while still striving to reach Malfurion. At the same time the bark shifted, forming a mockery of the night elf’s own bearded visage.
“This is not your nature,” Malfurion now said out loud, at the same time focusing his millennia of training on the flora. “This is a place of peace, of tranquility…this place touches the heart of Azeroth and is in turn touched by it…”
The grass released him. The trees suddenly stiffened. The images of his face vanished from the bark.
The Moonglade was calm again, if still mist-enshrouded.
Malfurion took a deep breath. What he had done was no small miracle, not against the might he had sensed at work against him.
The Nightmare Lord had focused especially upon him. Fortunately, the evil had underestimated the archdruid in this of all places.
That settled one matter for Malfurion. He had to return to the Emerald Dream — what was left of it — before it was too late. The green dragon assigned to carry him off had said something about Ysera feeling him more important to the situation, important enough to risk herself.
Malfurion let out a growl of frustration at himself. He was hardly more important than the mistress of the Emerald Dream! Still, he owed her for her sacrifice and owed Azeroth for what his capture had permitted the Nightmare Lord to do.
He wondered why the Nightmare had not already engulfed the world. Its master had Ysera; why then wait? Was there something preventing his captor from ultimate victory?
If there is, I will not discover it standing here! he angrily reminded himself. Any answers lie elsewhere…
Without further hesitation, the archdruid transformed into a storm crow. Taking to the air, Malfurion soared from the Moonglade. Malfurion’s wings beat hard as he rose higher and higher —
But then, at a place among the clouds, he suddenly hovered.
Sharp eyes drank in a sight below that made the storm crow cry out. Perhaps he had been wrong, after all. Perhaps his hope that there was still some chance to salvage victory had merely been one last nightmare thrust upon him by a mocking foe.
The mist did not merely cover the Moonglade. It covered the land beyond it and beyond that.
In fact…it covered all of Azeroth that Malfurion could see.
“Malfurion!” Tyrande shouted. She looked to Broll. “What happened to him?”
“He must’ve cast himself back into his body! He should be all—”
The green dragon carrying them suddenly had to bank, for, without warning, the mists of the Nightmare erupted around them.
A horrific winged form materialized.
“The Nightmare desires these mortals…especially the female night elf…” the foul dragon Emeriss cooed. Her diseased and decaying body filled the air before them. “Come accept the inevitable…Azeroth and the Nightmare are now one…”
“You shall not have them!” the other dragon countered. She exhaled.
It resembled fire, but fire that was more ghost than real. Yet when it struck Emeriss, the corrupted dragon howled in agony and her body glittered as if suddenly covered in a million fireflies.
Ysera’s servant did not wait. She dove around her struggling foe.
But an angry roar indicated that Emeriss had already shaken off her pain. A moment later the corrupted leviathan soared toward them.
“She flies too swiftly and I fight against forces that I cannot see but that slow me!” the dragon informed her charges. “There is but one thing I can do!”
The magic surrounding the mortals flared so bright that the night elves in particular were forced to shield their eyes.
“Find your Malfurion Stormrage!” their rescuer shouted to them.
“My mistress would not lie!”
And with that, she cast them ahead.
Surrounded by her spell, they were protected from harm. Broll saw what she intended before the rest did.
“The portal! She’s sent us toward—”
Before he could finish, they flew through.
The magic dissipated the moment that they were back in Azeroth. Yet the green dragon had not intended for them to be injured in their landing. They emerged from the portal mere inches from the ground and when the spell vanished, the four simply came to a rest.
All but Lucan immediately leapt to their feet. However, as Broll approached the portal, the energies within…froze.
“Not possible…” he muttered. The druid jumped up to the portal and thrust a hand toward the magical gap.
It was like striking an iron door. Broll grimaced at the brief pain caused by his impetuousness.
The high priestess joined him. “Can we not get through?”
“No…either she sealed it after us…or something sealed it so that she couldn’t follow…”
Tyrande shook her head. “She sent us to safety at her own expense…and all for Malfurion!”
The druid looked over his shoulder. “It’s even a question whether she sent us to safety at all…”
They turned to face Thura. The orc had Brox’s ax ready in her hands. She eyed the other three with wariness.
“Where is he? Where is Malfurion Stormrage?” she demanded.
Her question caused Tyrande to stride toward the husky, greentinted warrior. As she neared, the high priestess glowed with the light of Elune. “He is beyond your petty reach, assassin!”
Thura met her glare…and then, to everyone’s surprise, the orc lowered the weapon. She looked extremely weary.
“He is the one who made me chase him…he tricked me. Why did he wish to die?”