"You arrived at just the right time, great Prophet," Rhodes said as he stepped forward and gave a slight nod. "We followed your guidance and came to the continent of Kalimdor. We were just wondering where we might find you."
"Greetings, great Prophet," Princess Calia said as she stepped forward and bowed. "You once warned my father of the coming catastrophe, but he did not heed your words. Because of that, Lordaeron paid a terrible price.
"Now, following your guidance, we have arrived on this new continent."
This mysterious prophet had once visited Lordaeron while her father was still alive. He had issued dire warnings, yet the entire leadership of Lordaeron—including King Terenas himself—had refused to believe him.
Now it seemed the prophet had foreseen the disaster long ago and understood that it had been unavoidable.
"Your father and your brother should have followed my advice," Medivh said with a sigh. "Had they done so and traveled to Kalimdor, none of this tragedy would have occurred. Unfortunately… I did all I could."
After his death, his soul had wandered the Twisting Nether until his mother, the former Guardian Aegwynn, used her world-shaking magic to resurrect him.
During his time drifting between realms, he had discovered the Burning Legion's conspiracy.
There, he personally witnessed Kil'jaeden's plans to invade Azeroth and learned of the demon lord's schemes. From that moment on, he began preparing to oppose the Burning Legion.
"Sir," Jaina asked as she stepped forward, "since you guided us to Kalimdor, how are we meant to confront the threat you mentioned? What should we do next?"
"The first thing I must explain is the true mastermind behind this invasion of Azeroth. It is not the Scourge as you understand it—"
Before Medivh could continue, he was interrupted.
"Prophet," Uther said, "the Titan Keeper behind Rhodes has already told us the whole story. The Scourge is not the true culprit. The real enemy is the Burning Legion—the same force that invaded our world ten thousand years ago. That is what you were about to say, correct?"
Medivh was visibly surprised. How did these people already know about the Burning Legion?
He glanced at Uther and noticed the silver warhammer in his hand. Shock crossed his face, followed by understanding.
As the former Guardian of Azeroth, Medivh had inherited vast knowledge from his mother—including awareness of the ancient Titan constructs that once served her in Karazhan.
Naturally, he recognized the origin of the Silver Hand warhammer. It seemed that he was not the only ancient power watching this invasion.
Thank the heavens—Azeroth was not beyond saving. The Titan Keepers had not abandoned this world after all.
He had believed mortals would have to face this war alone. Yet now it appeared the Keepers were acting from the shadows.
That explained it. Every miraculous artifact Rhodes carried must have come from the Titan Keepers.
"You are correct," Medivh said. "The true threat is the Burning Legion—a demonic army that has destroyed countless worlds and reduced innumerable planets to ash.
"They conquer endlessly, undefeated in battle, unstoppable in their advance.
"Until ten thousand years ago, when they finally met resistance. They encountered the night elves, among whom arose great heroes who thwarted the Legion's scheme and prevented the demon lord Sargeras from entering our world.
"Centuries ago, Guardian Aegwynn defeated an avatar of Sargeras in Northrend, once again foiling the Legion's attempt to burn Azeroth.
"But now, due to the Scourge's machinations, Dalaran has fallen. One of the Legion's two supreme commanders—Archimonde—has already led part of the demon vanguard into our world.
"They are even now marching toward Kalimdor.
"If mortals wish to win this war, they must abandon hatred and prejudice. Only unity offers hope of victory.
"That is why I brought you here—to Kalimdor. Humans, elves, dwarves, gnomes, orcs, trolls, tauren, and the night elves of this land—
"Only by standing together can you defeat the Burning Legion and save our world."
The revelation stunned everyone present.
They had been at sea for little more than half a month—yet Dalaran had already fallen.
"How is that possible?" the high elf mage Capernia protested. "Do you understand the power of Dalaran? Prince Kael'thas is there—this cannot be—"
Though Dalaran was a younger city, its magical technology already rivaled, even surpassed, that of Quel'Thalas.
Moreover, the Scourge should have suffered catastrophic losses in Quel'Thalas. How could they still have strength to attack Dalaran?
"I regret to say there is more you do not yet know," Medivh said solemnly. "A few days after your departure, Silvermoon City fell.
"Your Sun King was slain. The Sunwell was corrupted by Arthas and used to resurrect the lich Kel'Thuzad.
"The high elves suffered devastating losses. Even your Ranger-General Sylvanas Windrunner has fallen—or rather, been raised again as an undead."
The news struck like a thunderbolt.
Everyone was shaken—everyone except Rhodes.
After all, he still had an agent embedded within the Scourge, at least before the Lich King's downfall. Though aboard the airship, Rhodes had remained informed of events in the Eastern Kingdoms.
The fall of Silvermoon and Dalaran—he already knew.
"That's impossible! You're lying!" Capernia cried. "Do you know how powerful the high elves are?
"We had three layers of magical barriers! We had General Windrunner!"
Like all high elves, she believed Quel'Thalas to be impregnable.
"I understand your disbelief," Medivh replied quietly. "But everything I have said is true. Soon, confirmation will reach your ears.
"A traitor arose within Silvermoon—one who opened the barriers for the Scourge and allowed the undead to invade your homeland.
"Sylvanas is dead, transformed into a banshee. Nothing can change that now."
"No… no…" Capernia staggered. "Lord Rhodes, please—allow us to return at once. I must verify this terrible news."
Many of the accompanying high elf mages shared her desperation.
"Calm yourself," Rhodes said firmly. "Remember your orders. If the Burning Legion is not defeated, returning home will be meaningless.
"After we defeat the Legion, we will return to the Eastern Kingdoms. Only then can your homeland truly be saved."
Privately, Rhodes added: *The high elves cannot leave—not until Archimonde is dead.*
This time, he had no intention of letting them become blood elves and join the Horde.
"Please don't worry, Lady Capernia," Princess Calia said gently. "We will help you."
"What about the dwarven cities, Prophet?" someone asked.
"Aside from Dalaran and Silvermoon, the other cities remain intact," Medivh replied. "And you may take comfort in this—
"Most of the Scourge and the demon forces that entered Azeroth have already moved to Kalimdor. Only a small contingent remains in the Eastern Kingdoms.
"Prince Kael'thas has returned home to take command. For now, Kalimdor is the true battlefield."
Medivh did not wish the high elf mages to leave. They would be needed in the battles ahead.
"Then, Prophet," Rhodes asked, "what is your plan? How do we defeat the Burning Legion?"
All eyes turned toward Medivh.
"I have already told you," he said. "All peoples must unite. Humans and orcs alike must set aside ancient hatred.
"You will march toward Theramore's inland valleys. I will guide the orcs to join you.
"This time, the Horde and the Alliance must fight together."
"What? Ally with those beasts?!"
"We would rather die than fight beside monsters!"
"The orcs have caused us more suffering than the demons!"
"My father died in the Second War!"
Angry voices erupted among the human ranks—paladins and militiamen alike.
Even Princess Calia looked conflicted. The hatred between humans and orcs seemed impossible to reconcile.
"Enough," Medivh said sternly. "This is not a place for quarrels. For the sake of survival, you must unite.
"If you refuse, you will soon witness the Burning Legion yourselves.
"They will burn this world to ashes. When nothing remains, hatred will be meaningless."
He sighed.
Just as he had expected, humans harbored deep prejudice against orcs—and the orcs felt the same.
Yet their Warchief, Thrall, was different. Medivh believed he could persuade him.
The orcs had already formed alliances with the tauren and a troll tribe after arriving in Kalimdor.
The true difficulty lay with the humans.
"I will lead a vanguard force," Rhodes said. "We'll make contact with the night elves and see whether those green-skinned orcs are truly willing to cooperate.
"But this alliance exists solely to fight the Burning Legion. If they step out of line, I will deal with them."
"You may send an elite unit toward Ashenvale," Medivh said. "The elderly, women, and children may remain here for now.
"I urge you to depart quickly. Time cannot be wasted."
With a nod, Medivh transformed once more into a raven and took flight.
He needed to prepare a suitable meeting place—where the leaders of humanity and the Horde could finally meet and attempt reconciliation.
"Rhodes," Princess Calia asked anxiously, "do you believe what the Prophet said? Dalaran has fallen, the Burning Legion has arrived… must we truly ally with the orcs?"
"Do not worry, Your Highness," Rhodes replied calmly. "The Titan Keepers have already given me guidance.
"You need only remain here and care for the people. Leave the rest to Uther and me."
The mood was heavy, yet the camp soon regained its momentum.
In the days that followed, pioneering efforts flourished.
Fishermen established steady catches. Dwarven hunters returned with boar, deer, and edible birds.
Foraging parties discovered new berries and tubers, greatly easing the food shortage.
Lumber work progressed swiftly, and rows of simple yet sturdy wooden huts replaced the original tents.
Paladins and militia patrolled day and night, wary of dangers lurking within the marsh—crocodiles, venomous snakes, and unsettling low roars echoing in the distance.
Scouts reported humanoid creatures with equine lower bodies roaming nearby.
Rhodes ordered the paladins not to provoke them, but to prepare defenses and establish watchtowers.
Centaur were notoriously aggressive and could not be taken lightly.
On the morning of the fifth day after landing, as mist clung to the coastline of Dustwallow Marsh, a massive force far larger than any before arrived.
Several enormous goblin airships floated overhead, bearing the insignia of the Steamwheedle Cartel.
Behind them marched long lines of kodo beasts transporting vast quantities of supplies.
The airships descended slowly, extending long boarding ramps.
At last, the main figure of the transaction appeared—the Trade Prince of the Steamwheedle Cartel.
He wore a perfectly tailored crimson silk robe embroidered with intricate gold coin patterns.
A massive golden chain hung around his neck, bearing a flawlessly cut ruby the size of a fist.
Nearly every finger was adorned with gem-studded rings that glittered brilliantly in the morning light.
The moment he set foot on the ground, the Trade Prince began surveying the entire camp—assessing the value of everything in sight.