And then, Xavius had ceased to exist.
But he and the defenders had all underestimated the power of the evil titan Sargeras. After snaring what little remained of Xavius’s disembodied spirit and torturing it long for the counselor’s failures, Sargeras had remolded it into something more terrible.
Xavius had been reborn as a satyr — the first of the goatlike monsters now so long the enemies of the night elves — and his malevolence had only grown with his new, hideous aspect.
Malfurion had nearly lost Tyrande to Xavius and his fellow corrupted Highborne. In the end, unable to risk Xavius escaping death again, Malfurion had called upon Azeroth’s power to transform the satyr. Despite Xavius’s struggling, the young druid had turned his foe into a harmless tree.
Or so he had believed for the past ten millennia. The evil had been festering upon Azeroth all that time and Malfurion had never known.
All this Malfurion reflected upon with anger at himself as, once more in cat form, the branch clamped in his teeth, he rushed back to Darnassus. He blamed himself for what was happening now, yet he also pondered how Xavius had survived so long to become the Nightmare Lord.
But that thought was shoved aside as he entered the capital and transformed. Darnassus was in ruins and much of that was due to the collapse of other limbs from the vast tree. Victims of the Nightmare’s servants also lay everywhere. The Sisters of Elune and the Sentinels were seeking to help those they could.
He spotted Shandris Feathermoon giving commands to both groups. The general looked weary, but in her element.
Unfortunately, she did not realize the danger still surrounding their people.
“Shandris!” At his voice, she whirled.
“Malfurion…” the general said, saluting him respectfully and looking much relieved. “Praise be that you’re all right.” She noticed the unsettling branch that he now hefted in both hands and her brow furrowed. “By the Mother Moon! What foulness has afflicted that?”
“This is the taint that spread through Teldrassil,” the archdruid hurriedly answered. “But we must not concern ourselves with that at the moment! Darnassus must be cleared! The World Tree has suffered greatly; the ruined trees you see around you are only a fraction! For everyone’s safety, they must leave!”
As if to emphasize this, another thundering crack echoed through Darnassus. The city shook. Teldrassil would stand, but the same could not necessarily be said for the capital.
“I’ll see that it’s done!” Shandris promised.
“I will see to the druids,” Malfurion told her as they separated.
“We may be able to do something to stave it off…but I cannot promise it…”
“Understood!”
An agonized cry erupted from elsewhere, a voice full of loss. It did not come from any of the victims to which Malfurion looked, but rather from an unexpected direction.
He turned toward the enclave to find the other druids already streaming from there. Broll had the lead, with Hamuul close behind.
The source of the never-ending cry was Fandral. Eyes unseeing, the archdruid shouted his son’s name over and over. He pleaded for Valstann to come back to him.
Two other druids guided him by hand as he stumbled along, calling to his son. Behind them, other druids guarded a small band
…those who had chosen Fandral’s madness over all else. It was already obvious to Malfurion what would have to be done with them.
The Moonglade had places that could hold the sick or corrupted of mind. For those who had followed Fandral, there was hope that they could be redeemed.
But as he studied Valstann’s father, Malfurion wondered if Fandral would ever be cured. Between the Nightmare and his personal loss, the mad archdruid looked as if he had lost himself forever.
Malfurion met with Broll, giving him the same warning that he had Shandris. Broll nodded his understanding, but his eyes kept shifting to the macabre branch. Malfurion finally informed him of what he had divined.
“Xavius…” Broll did not know the name, but had felt the immense anger and dread in his shan’do’s voice when Malfurion had spoken it.
“The druids must help the people leave, then be prepared to hear from me. It will not be very long, so they must hurry!”
“What do you hope to do?”
Malfurion seized a smaller branch thrusting out near the top. He snapped it off. The same thick, foul liquid slowly dripped from it.
“What I must. What we must.”
That said, Malfurion quickly called for a torch. Secreting the smaller branch upon his person, the archdruid set the larger branch afire. In just the blink of an eye, it burnt to ash, which he let the wind carry away.
“Be ready,” he asked Broll.
“Of course, Shan’do! I—”
But Malfurion had already transformed and taken to the sky.
Tyrande knew who spoke even though she had been unconscious during their previous encounter. She knew because Malfurion had later told her the terrifying facts…and what he had done to her captor.
“You cannot be…” she protested.
The shadow of the giant, skeletal tree twisted around the trio.
The high priestess felt her chest tighten, although when she brought her hand to it, there was nothing to pull away. Tyrande noted that Lucan and Thura acted the same.
I can and always will be…Tyrande Whisperwind…I am the Nightmare and the Nightmare is me…we are eternal…and soon Azeroth will be but a part of us…
“Never!” She prayed to Elune and the Mother Moon’s light filled her. Tyrande immediately focused that light upon the shadow.
In the light, the tree all but faded. Tyrande felt the pressure on her chest ease.
Then the shadow darkened again, growing more distinct than before. The high priestess could not breathe. She struggled to remain on her feet. The others also suffered.
The light faded, leaving only the foul dark green illumination of the Nightmare…and the shadow of the tree that was the night elf Xavius.
I am beyond your petty deity now…the Mistress of Dreams is mine…as is her sister the Life-Binder… 62ehold them both and tremble at your lost hopes…
The mists parted…and behind the shadow stood revealed the mistress of the Emerald Dream. She was snared tight in tendrils of shadow that also appeared to originate from their captor. Ysera’s head was pointed skyward as if she looked for something, but her eyes were shut. Her wings and limbs were stretched apart in what was surely an agonizing manner.
An emerald aura emanated from Ysera, but barely inches from her, it altered into the foul, decaying green of the Nightmare. It was all too clear that the Aspect’s power was being twisted to Xavius’s desires.
And behind her, folded almost in two, hovered Alexstrasza. Her eyes stared unseeing and her jaw was slack. She looked withered, more dead than alive. Her vibrant red coloring had faded and she barely looked to be breathing.
The mists enshrouded the two huge dragons again. Tyrande was crushed by the sight. She remembered that Alexstrasza had been in some terrible danger when last they had seen her, but she had believed that somehow the Aspect would evade capture.
There was the flapping of wings. A massive green form materialized from the mist. At first Tyrande thought that Eranikus had flown to their rescue, but then the dragon that alighted between the Nightmare Lord and the trio revealed himself a dreadful creature whose very expression was enough to reveal the depths of his corruption.
Lethon bowed his head to the tree. “I have come as you summoned…”
Prepare them…it will come soon…and with its coming…the Nightmare’s hold will be complete…
The green dragon grinned evilly at the three. “Come, my little pets…Emeriss is waiting for us…”
They were swept up in the dragon’s magic.
Malfurion rose up into the sky, which was now as mist-enshrouded around the island as everywhere else. The Nightmare Lord no longer had reason to keep Darnassus ignorant of the extent of their danger now that Fandral was lost.