Dalaran is a city of magic, and so it is not surprising that the pair of students from the famous academy, leisurely walking toward the city exit, did not recognize the muffled pops as the sounds of combat spells. Too many magical things happened in the vicinity for them to pay attention to every pop, especially one that didn't particularly stand out against the general background. But the arriving ferret immediately drew attention with its frantic movements.
"Look how funny it is!" — Jaina yielded to the influence of a girl's impressionability for cute things and stopped, looking at the small animal with the cute mottled face. — "It must be lost… poor thing! I wonder whose it is?"
Distracted from reflections on the essence of fire and the fact that fire quickly goes out without an inflow of air, but becomes significantly stronger with wind, Lin turned a thoughtful gaze toward someone's pet that had interested his companion. The young man caught the moment when the ferret froze in place and intently, but with spasmodic, jerky movements of its head, began to scan the passersby. Too intently, in Lin's opinion, concentrating on people's faces… for an ordinary animal.
"It seems it's its own," — the young man muttered when his and the ferret's eyes met.
He was ready to bet a lot that this was far from an ordinary representative of the fauna—the latter do not emit a barely perceptible scanning magic. Lin didn't know if such creatures were found on this continent, but he was one hundred percent sure about his former homeland. But even if a Long-Ears kinsman with several millennia of sabotage experience was hiding behind the image of the furry busybody, he represented no danger in this form—it wasn't a tiger or a Bear. And to try to cause significant harm, he would have to somehow sink his teeth into a throat… and who would allow him that?
"If it belongs to no one—I'll take it! Look what a cutie!"
As if reading his thoughts but in reverse, Jaina, seizing the moment when the unknown Mage in animal form ran past once more, snatched it up as easily as a hawk takes a chick and began to squeeze the stunned stranger, who clearly hadn't expected such a setup. However, credit must be given—the confusion lasted no more than a couple of seconds. And now the ferret began to struggle involuntarily, using claws and teeth. But to no avail—the Princess possessed vast experience in handling animals whose desires did not include plans to be squeezed to death: after all, Evin, a fashionable Friend from the academy, had a mean but very cute cat… Though even so, she had to acquire a couple of bites and scratches.
Lin's hesitation lasted longer than that of the unknown Druid, but seeing that the ferret was behaving within the bounds of decency and not trying to break free at any cost, he calmed down a bit. And then, remembering a spell that belonged, like the form-change demonstrated by the stranger, to the forces of Nature, and finding it very appropriate and even somewhat ironic, he applied it to the ferret, touching it for greater effect.
The Druid charms aimed at pacifying animals led to a strange reaction from the subject: no, the ferret certainly calmed down and, to Jaina's joy, stopped trying to escape her embrace, but at the same time, it stared at Illidan Stormrage with a look as stunned as not every Human, or Elf, could portray. Lin's face in response depicted thoughtfulness: he felt something incomprehensible, semi-familiar during the touch to the animal's fur. The trio spent some time occupied with their own business: the ferret, who turned out to be a female—staring; Jaina—squeezing the future pet; and Lin—remembering what exactly had happened. To clarify the situation, the young man even joined his Friend in stroking the animal to provide the necessary tactical contact. Despite the efforts, he couldn't figure it out; however, a distinct feeling arose that any moment now this bastion would fall and the mystery would be solved…
How Lin managed to notice the strangers appearing on the street while so immersed in the process of establishing the truth—strangers who, judging by indirect signs, were searching for the furry object of his interest—the young man himself couldn't have answered exactly, but he had guesses related to his past life. After all, experience is invaluable, and you never know at what moment what knowledge will come in handy.
"Come on, we need to get out of here," — Lin, with an imperceptible gesture, took the ferret from his Friend and tucked it into his bag. — "And you sit quietly if you don't want to be found."
"Did something happen?" — Jaina followed the young man toward the city exit.
"We'll find out from our new acquaintance when we leave the city. For now, we haven't seen any ferrets, and if anything happens—I'll do the talking."
"Oh, so this animal is called a ferret?" — the girl's hearing showed its selectivity.
"Jaina…" — the young man said reproachfully.
"Fine, fine, I didn't see anyone… where were we?"
"On the fact that elemental manifestations of spells can be neutralized not only by antagonist elements. But I suggest returning to this question later when we're alone. Tell me instead how things are at home," — Lin, barely turning his head as if by chance, cast a glance back: the strangers, who turned out to be mostly Elves, having lost their target, had begun questioning passersby.
He quickened his pace; his Friend hurried after him.
"The situation in Kul Tiras isn't great: ships have started disappearing more and more often, fishermen don't risk going far from the shore. We have to strengthen convoy protection, and the merchants have also started huddling into caravans."
"We live in troubled times," — the young man stated, not at all surprised by the latest news from his girlfriend's homeland.
"Yes, you warned me, but this is…" — Jaina faltered, trying to find the right definition for the situation, — "unpleasant."
"In most sentient beings, the hope for a better outcome is strong. Alas, when personalities of such scale are counted among the enemies, hope is not the most reliable way to fight them. By the way, maybe your people need some help? If so—let me know."
The girl sighed.
"Father said that until I become an Archmage, I shouldn't set foot on the islands."
"Well, he's wrong to say that. Often you don't need to be an Archmage to influence events and know how to solve problems."
"That's roughly what I wrote to him. We'll see what he answers."
"I think any father would have one answer to that—'my daughter is too small for such matters.'"
"Yes, I understand—Father is worried," — Jaina sighed again. — "But that doesn't make it any easier."
"A mature approach."
"You said that as if everything I did before was childishness," — the girl joked, but Lin, being an experienced conversationalist, caught the notes of budding offense.
"Jaina, if I thought you were a child, I wouldn't be kissing you, so you can consider that a regular compliment."
The girl's thoughts instantly switched from the imagined offense to other circumstances… more exciting and embarrassing, and she smiled.
"Thank you!"
"You're welcome."
------------------//------------------
Released into the nearby forest, the unknown Druid was in no hurry to cancel her animal form, freezing like a pillar, staring with bead-like eyes at the young man and periodically glancing at his companion.
"Well?" — Lin said impatiently.
The ferret at that moment was just looking at Jaina, meeting in return a gaze filled with curiosity and hidden anxiety. Her partner had managed to fill the girl in on all the details regarding the found "pet," and that was precisely why the assumed racial identity of the cute creature caused the young Princess noticeable fears related to her boyfriend's past life. What if Lin returns to his own and becomes Illidan Stormrage? The essence of her worry could be expressed in one phrase: "Once an Elf, always an Elf."
The animal, reacting to the speech, turned its head toward the owner of the bag that had allowed the fugitive to leave the city unhindered, but hearing no continuation, again looked doubtfully at Jaina.
"Don't tell me you don't understand the speech of…" — here Lin faltered, realizing he didn't know what the Elves called Humans in their language, — "…Short-Ears? Cancel the animal form, or I will do it forcibly! Believe me, you won't want to feel that."
Now the ferret flinched, clearly demonstrating a reaction to the words, and a few seconds later, instead of the small predator, there appeared a slender girl whose face was hidden behind a hood, from under which violet-colored locks escaped, and above which long Elven ears poked through special slits, while a bow peeked from behind her back.
Strangely enough, despite partial memory loss and a rather superficial acquaintance, Lin immediately identified the stranger as that very teenage Elf who had followed Tyrande like a tail during the last few years of the War for Night Elves. Naturally, the young man did not let on that they were acquainted, hiding also that he was well-versed in the differences between the Kaldorei and the Quel'dorei. True, the fact that, having returned to her original form, the Elf began to stare exclusively at him was unsettling.
"Well, who are you? And why did you and your kinsmen start a game of tag in our Dalaran? Are things finished in Quel'Thalas?"
To which Lin received an unexpected answer. The Friend of his former lover silently extracted an item from her belt pouch, sparkling with the blue flare of magic visible even to ordinary sight. After close inspection, one could see that behind the magical veil was hidden a gray stone in the shape of a small pyramid.
"Ah, so that's it…"
"Lin?" — to her displeasure, Jaina was not strong in the Elven language.
Though he had offered to teach her such a necessary language, he hadn't gotten around to it yet—after all, there were always more priority activities. However, now, when an unknown girl had appeared in dangerous proximity to her boyfriend again, the young Princess no longer considered studying the neighbors' language such a whim as before…
"The artifact in her hands is tuned to find me. I made it myself… once."
Thinking the rest, which her comrade had not spoken aloud, was not difficult for Jaina.
"Oh…"
"Exactly," — he sighed in response. — "Now I'll find out what they wanted."
Lin turned to the Elf and addressed her, ceasing to hide his origin.
"Ishnu-alah, Shandris. Congratulations, you found me. But why? Ten thousand years have passed, you know."
"Elune-Adore, Illidan Stormrage…" — her throat, dry from excitement, didn't let her continue, and the fact that the legendary Warrior remembered her didn't add to her composure, and the girl faltered. — "We are at war with N'Zoth, which we are losing! Cenarius is dead… Tyrande asks you for help!"
Eloquence was not a strong suit of one of the leaders of the Sentinel order; her prepared speech had evaporated somewhere, and so the tale of the "latest" news turned out short and somewhat jumbled, but the Elf was saved by a letter authored by her Friend, which she handed over immediately upon finishing her impromptu.
A golden-haired crown immediately appeared behind Lin. Though he had grown taller over the last few years, Jaina's height had also not stayed still, which allowed the latter to look over her companion's shoulder and familiarize herself with the message to ensure it wasn't a love letter. Fortunately, the young man did not hinder her, and Jaina possessed knowledge of Elven writing, unlike the spoken language: a significant part of the library's collection was written precisely in the language of the elder brothers and sisters in mind.
Studying the letter took no more than a minute. Tyrande did not beat around the bush in the text; she described the situation as it was and chided Illidan Stormrage for such a long absence, finally warmly assuring him that everyone was waiting for his return.
"With love, Tyrande," — Jaina smirked, having finished reading to the end.
"She is my brother's wife," — he reminded her, neutralizing the girl's possessive instinct.
"I remember, and she's not calling you to a date, but to another suicidal mission…" — she suddenly broke off, followed by a hug and something between a panic-stricken whisper and an enraged hiss in his ear. — "Just don't tell me you'll agree! With your Mana level—it would be irresponsible!"
- "No, foolish actions are in the past," a man's palm rested over the woman's hands crossed on his chest, stroking them soothingly. "I couldn't match an Old God back then, and now there's nothing even to speak of."
"What will you tell them?" Jaina's head rested on his shoulder, strengthening the contact.
"The truth. But I'm not as worried about Tyrande's reaction to my refusal as I am about a likely encounter with Azshara. Now that my acquaintances know I'm alive, the news will reach her sooner or later. And we didn't part on the best of terms."
"But you saved her life!"
"But I also participated in the Destruction of the Well of Eternity, and overall, I didn't prove to be a very exemplary loyal subject."
In response, the girl sighed sadly. The Princess of Kul Tiras had a rough idea of the level of power and influence of the Queen of the Elves and sincerely hoped to avoid her attention falling upon her chosen one.
Shandris, left ignored, watched the whispering of the embracing couple with eyes wide open in surprise. As far as she knew, Illidan Stormrage had always had a soft spot for her mentor, and this girl… she was a Human! However, the sudden thought of a possible disguise for the Betrayer's passion made her snap out of it and try to concentrate on the matter at hand. She didn't want to think about some elf from Azshara's inner circle hiding behind the guise of a blue-eyed mage with wheat-colored hair… but she had to: she didn't complain about her hearing, and elven names in the Human tongue didn't sound different from the language of the "Children of the Stars," and the mention of Azshara couldn't help but be alarming. "I never thought I'd regret not knowing the Human language," a bad premonition took hold of her, and her mood, having reached a level of euphoria upon meeting Illidan Stormrage, was now plummeting as a result of this very meeting. The guy's next words, addressed now to her, came as no surprise to Shandris—she had managed to mentally prepare herself for a refusal.
"No, Shandris, I will not go with you. With all the will in the world, I cannot help you," Lin said, raising his gaze from Tyrande's ornate scribbles to the messenger, and, anticipating possible objections, continued: "If you haven't noticed, I am no longer that 'mighty apprentice of Cenarius' I once was. Now, in terms of power, I am just an ordinary Mage, albeit one who knows more than the others. And yes, this," he poked a finger at his chest, "is not a disguise. What you see is my real body."
"But how…" the first impulse to process what Illidan Stormrage had said, especially the last sentence, drove the elf into a stupor. Only later would she doubt the truth of his statement regarding his power, but right now too many events had occurred in a short time for the slow elven consciousness to accept them all.
"It just so happened that I died a little," he shrugged his shoulders gently, for Jaina still hadn't released him from her embrace, and her head was resting exactly on the part of the body he used to express bewilderment at the fact of his death. "And anyway, why didn't you go bow to Azshara if things are so bad for you?" The guy waved the letter and even voiced a few particularly prominent points: "The death of Cenarius, the loss of the second Source and all of Mount Hyjal, the betrayal of Malygos—it seems to me all of this is enough to start looking for help wherever possible."
"Malfurion Stormrage and Tyrande met with Azshara," Shandris snapped out of it, sighing nervously, "and they couldn't reach an agreement."
"Old grudges, right?"
"A few days after you disappeared from… Cenarius's dungeon, Azshara, who was thought dead, suddenly appeared at the Source you created and told our leaders that they had failed her plan to destroy the demons, and also that she no longer intended to tolerate the treachery of her subjects, after which she and her loyal comrades made a grand exit into the sunset," she gave a brief version of long-past events and, after a moment's thought, added: "Tyrande, Malfurion Stormrage, and Cenarius were very offended by such an interpretation of the story of saving the Kaldorei from the demons."
"Apparently not enough to avoid meeting her altogether," Lin noted. "And what did Azshara ask for in exchange for help with N'Zoth that our acquaintances couldn't agree to?"
"I don't know exactly—there were many points, but the main one was the renunciation of faith in Elune."
"Ah, well, that explains it."
Jaina no longer interfered in the conversation, subduing her curiosity—Lin would tell her everything later anyway—but she watched the messenger's facial expression closely. And the frowning face of the long-eared individual brought the girl immense joy.
"If it comes to that, alliances can be made not only with the strong. Or did you decide to follow the path of Azshara, who, as I recall, thought nothing of those same furbolgs, trolls, and others?"
"We engaged everyone we could, but the battle for Nordrassil was lost."
"Absolutely everyone? Didn't you try looking for allies on this continent? Humans, Dwarves, Goblins, Gnomes… Heck, even those same Orcs—I don't think they all enjoy sitting in their portal-land under the heel of demons. Speaking of demons: they could be pitted against N'Zoth, but that could be dangerous—they aren't the type to fight to the last, and as soon as a winner is determined, an attempt to negotiate will immediately follow, and their alliance is clearly not what Azeroth needs."
"I… can't say anything about that. Perhaps Tyrande tried to do something in that direction, but personally, this is the first I've heard of Dwarves and Gnomes."
"I really cannot help you," it was Lin's turn to sigh at the sight of the dejected elf. "But I don't mind talking to my brother and Tyrande. Here, I'll write them a letter."
A few minutes later, the High Priestess's message was returned to Shandris, covered in writing on the back. Just as he was about to say goodbye, Lin inquired:
"Oh, by the way, what did you do in the city that the Guard and the elves were chasing you?"
At that moment, her eyes flew wide, and her face took on an expression as if she'd been hit with a dusty sack.
"Sisters! It was a trap! We were betrayed when we tried to infiltrate the city!" she blurted out, then started to rush off somewhere, but immediately froze and stared at the guy… with a pleading look.
Lin didn't even have to guess what was expected of him.
"And you're suggesting the three of us go storm Is'Ney-Azshari to rescue your caught spy-sisters?!" he marveled.
Not that Illidan Stormrage hadn't committed such insane acts before… but when was that?
"We aren't spies! We are members of the Sentinels order," the slightly calmed elf corrected. "And they might still be in Dalaran!"
"I can try to find out what's what, but there can be no talk of any combat engagement in Dalaran: I live in this city, after all!"
"If they are caught, Azshara might find out that you are alive, Illidan Stormrage!"
"Not much of a secret. A day earlier, a day later—she'll find out sooner or later anyway," Lin brushed off the threat, but, seeing the despair on the elf's face, decided to calm her: "Don't worry so much! I highly doubt ordinary Huntresses could know anything that Azshara doesn't, well, maybe except for the fact of my appearance. The main thing is for Tyrande to intercede for them before they start being tortured in earnest."
"Tortured?!"
"Do you think your sisters will tell everything if they are just asked politely?"
"No, but…"
"And that will only add to their problems," he stated and changed the subject because, in his opinion, they were just beating a dead horse: "Listen, I'm glad to see you and all, but you probably need to hurry? Your sisters surely knew your squad's retreat routes, the portal opening location, or however you planned to return to Kalimdor? If one of them is caught and tells everything, you'll have trouble returning…"
Disappointment was so clearly written on Shandris's pale face that Illidan Stormrage felt the need to clarify a couple of points, including some from his past biography.
"If the Illidan Stormrage from the time of the War of the Ancients were here instead of me, he wouldn't help you either. Illidan Stormrage might have been a great warrior and Mage, but helping the, figuratively speaking, poor and downtrodden was not among his… my virtues back then. If I had my former power, I would help you—since my secret will hardly be worth even five Gold Coins soon, and therefore torturing your friends is simply pointless. Except now I have neither power nor influence. I don't think Azshara's agents will take my word for it if I come to them and say: 'Ishnu-alah, brothers, I am Illidan Stormrage, and it was me the Kaldorei were looking for!'"
Shandris nodded silently and, with a crunch, squeezed the letter before tucking it into her tunic, then dashed off into the distances known only to her, starting in the nearest bushes.
Watching the elf vanish into the forest, Lin decided, without waiting for questions, to start his story, because he felt that the curiosity gripping Jaina was about to break out of her control. She had already performed a small feat by keeping her mouth shut during the conversation with the "postman." And for such deeds, a reward was always due. Turning around, he transformed the one-sided embrace into a mutual one and kissed the girl. After some time, the two, lost to the rest of the world, stopped, caught their breath, and only then did the couple continue their journey, and Lin recounted the conversation with the scout and gave a brief summary:
"… By all accounts, the final battle with N'Zoth is not far off. And we shouldn't forget about the demons either."
"Do you think the elves will invite us to it?"
"They're unlikely to call for ordinary troops—what use would they be? But Mages—definitely. Actually, I sincerely hope we don't end up there, at least for the next twenty years or so," he frowned, perfectly imagining the scale of spells used in the upcoming war.
"If we don't end up there, we'll lose the chance to influence its outcome in any way. And while the victory doesn't particularly worry me, the defeat… it will bring the war to the doorstep of our homes."
"You're right," a sigh came from the guy. "I just wish we could turn this notorious 'influence in some way' in the equation into something more attractive before we have to start solving it."
"Are there options?" Jaina couldn't help but be interested.
After a short silence, the answer followed:
"There are. Several, even, but one is more dangerous than the next. Except for one."
"?"
Lin didn't need to be a genius to catch the unspoken question, so the answer was not long in coming.
"I have an idea…"
***
"Malfurion Stormrage, have you come again to cry about the impossible demands for my support?"
The green-bearded Druid looked at the elf on the throne, but he saw neither her famous beauty, nor the smile that visited her quite rarely, nor the expression of weariness that appeared on her face every time she communicated with "intellectually gifted" individuals. The reason for such "inattention" lay not at all in the bad mood of the leader of the Night Elves—the main point was the immense pressure exerted on him by this "fragile girl." It seemed to Malfurion Stormrage as if he were granted an audience with none other than Elune herself, so he had no time for gazing at the Queen of the High Elves—the man was struggling not to collapse to his knees, while simultaneously trying to understand how Azshara managed to exceed all conceivable and inconceivable limits of personal power time and time again.
Suddenly, the pressure vanished. The guest, who had almost knelt, staggered but remained standing, his spirit rising.
"Well, I admit—you are strong enough to stand out from the gray mass, but my opinion of your intellectual abilities has not changed."
"I came to say that we agree to your terms."
"Is that so?" in a theatrical gesture of bewilderment, her left eyebrow arched slightly and elegantly. "You say 'we,' but I see only you before me… And where is our freedom-loving priestess? Is she really not happy to see her Queen? Or perhaps… you made the decision alone, and your other half doesn't know about it yet?"
Malfurion Stormrage was sure he had managed to keep a straight face and hadn't betrayed himself in any other way, but the highly experienced elf had somehow seen through him anyway.
"Ah, you old hypocrite! Oh, how many discoveries she has yet to make after your return! You haven't forgotten the point concerning Elune, which caused an unprecedented spill of bile from your girlfriend, have you?" There were playful intonations in her speech; she was clearly in a surprisingly positive mood, as if ten millennia of enmity hadn't existed between them.
"Then again, with her power, one can afford to be magnanimous…" the thought flashed through the man's mind.
"So, will you help us?"
The smile on Azshara's face faded slightly.
"Malfurion Stormrage, don't you think that's not how business is done? Do you think your promise is enough? Today you give your word, tomorrow you take it back and start degenerating in all directions again," the Druid was ready to appeal to the last statement, but the girl didn't give him the chance, continuing with weight in her voice: "Yes, exactly, degenerate! Let's see what results you've managed to achieve since the War. Perhaps you've raised the intellectual and spiritual level of the people by developing science, education, and culture? It's not noticeable. Quite the opposite—your Kaldorei will soon be running around bare-bottomed with stone spears like trolls. The start has been made—you've already moved from your tree caves into tents made of skins. About the Sources blown up and given to the enemy, it's probably better to stay silent… What else? Ah, yes, that very Emerald Dream that you cherished and nurtured, straining with all your meager strength… Congratulations! You did the dirty work for the green-stuff, and even then not all of it, maybe a tenth part, gods willing. But for ten thousand years, half of the Kaldorei didn't leave their soft beds… Oops, sorry! I meant to say from their stinking dens, but it doesn't matter, because the result is the same—instead of getting out of the Aspects' backsides, you crawled in deeper. Probably so it would be more convenient to lick, right, Malfurion Stormrage? And how much did you lick your way to? I don't see any orderly dragon ranks in front of you or even behind your backs. See what following anyone but your own rulers has led to? You've seen my capital, you surely know what's happening in Quel'Thalas, so you can compare and feel the difference between the Kaldorei and the Quel'dorei. And yet things could have turned out differently for you, had the Night Elves chosen the side of their kin. But instead of following your Queen and brothers and sisters by blood, you listened to goats, lizards, and that ancient senile woman who forgot she is a nature spirit—strong, old, but just a spirit—some moon goddess she turned out to be, who hasn't had the strength to show herself to her believers even once in tens of thousands of years! So it's time to end your free-for-all, and, in case you forgot, last time I spoke about a magical contract."
"I told you—we agree to all your terms," Malfurion Stormrage said in a tired voice when he realized the lecture had come to an end, and it wasn't to say he enjoyed this rebuke, where he was essentially grabbed by the beard and poked, then dragged by the face like a kitten that had made a mess in the wrong place.
"Fine, I'll say it plainly since you don't take hints—contract first, everything else later."
"Afterward, you will help cleanse Nordrassil, and we will return to Ashenvale and the Hyjal mountains," the Druid continued to persist, adjusting the terms of the agreement he had just accepted.
"I'm repeating this for the last time," Azshara replied with an expression of infinite patience. "It's pointless; N'Zoth will just capture it again, and we cannot spend decades building defenses on the eve of war with the demons and the Old One. It would be easier then to leave everything as it is, but that would be an idiotic move, because then N'Zoth would have the power of the Source on his side."
"The consequences of destroying the Source are unpredictable; another cataclysm could break out and destroy all of Azeroth!"
"You didn't seem to think about that when you blew up the Well of Eternity," she responded mockingly to her opponent's weak efforts. "Don't worry, unlike you, I will do everything properly."
Malfurion Stormrage ran out of arguments, and even those that had been voiced had been presented more than once.
"Enough, stop wasting my time! Go, and don't return without Tyrande's consent—the Night Elves don't need an internecine war, do they?"
***
Among Humans, it was believed that all roads lead to Dalaran, but be that as it may, the famous city of Mages was visited not only by representatives of the Human kingdoms but also by other races, mostly, of course, their allies—the elves. However, Dwarves, Gnomes, and Goblins also stopped by—after all, the services of sorcerers, as well as various magical goods, were required by many.
Currently, an elf with such a thick mane of luxurious golden-brown hair was passing the check at the gates of Dalaran that all her other virtues and charms were completely eclipsed by the madness created by the silky strands curling at the ends, which were the envy of many women and girls. Worn clothes tightly hugged the traveler's shapely figure, which in no way diminished her beauty.
A sorcerer from the guard, after casting the check spells, wasn't particularly surprised not to find any disguise. Passing his rod along the girl's figure, he grunted in puzzlement when the scan showed no artifacts except for a few purely feminine trinkets and a pass-token. The latter was a weathered badge possessing, despite its outward plainness, a magical mark of not the lowest clearance. All the circumstances combined didn't allow for a moment's suspicion that the beautiful elf was a disguised demon accomplice or a representative of their kind.
Nodding in response to the wish for a good day, the young woman headed into the city… Who would have known how many temporal junctures the representative of the Bronze Dragonflight had to look through to find the very one whose conditions would allow her to guaranteed entry into Dalaran territory without obstacles. The Kirin Tor Council had taken the warnings of their senior colleagues from the neighboring state very seriously and organized a quite decent line of defense against all sorts of demonic spies. Fortunately, although the dragons had been strongly advised not to appear in Dalaran, they hadn't made it onto the blacklists yet, and the complex of protective charms hadn't undergone the corresponding modifications aimed at detecting winged lizards.
Soridormi, having passed the gates, entered the first tavern she came across; fortunately, it was of a more or less decent appearance, and began another analysis of the probabilistic-temporal flows to find the most favorable one. After all, only the past couldn't be changed, but the future… Aman'Thul himself had tasked the Bronze Dragonflight with guarding Azeroth and watching over its Fate, and they, in turn, took the task from the strongest Titan responsibly.
Nozdormu could "see" far into the future at once, but his kin, and even this specific dragoness, who was the Aspect's spouse, had to break Time into several segments, the period of which was determined by the strength of the specific dragon, and try to choose the right one from them. Why try? Because by choosing the one with the best indicators as the first link, the guardian of Time risked getting, at the end of the temporal chain leading to the adjusted event, not only the greatest efficiency but perhaps not the result they were counting on at all, but the exact opposite. Time didn't like jokes… unless they were its own.
As it turned out, there weren't many interesting outcomes in the near future—to be precise, only one. True, to find it, Soridormi had to sit in the dive for nearly three hours, but what could she do—to each their own. She paid for her unfinished glass of wine and headed deeper into Dalaran. Her goal was another tavern, whose main customers were usually young couples and children with parents, as the establishment's menu focused on sweets, so beloved by girls of all categories and children of all ages…
Meanwhile, Onyxia, sitting at the table closest to the window, saw her distant relative immediately as she appeared at the intersection, but for the first few moments, she didn't react to her in any way. But then her gaze broke away from the mane shining like gold in the sun, slid over the yellow eyes, and stopped on a small golden medallion in the shape of an hourglass, faintly visible against the light skin of the jacket. But neither the distance nor the sunbeams falling from behind the approaching elf were an obstacle to the dragon's sight. And thanks to a hint from a recent interlocutor, Onyxia was able to quickly match the stranger's appearance with the symbol depicted on the jewelry and identify the walking girl as her kin, and of a very specific lineage.
Onyxia tensed, but not so much as to jump up and run somewhere. Since the bronze dragoness was heading so purposefully straight toward her, running from a relative who was on intimate terms with Time Magic was not the wisest idea. The elf's path ended right at her table, where she sat down without any hesitation.
"May your flight be easy, Onyxia. My name is Soridormi. Please tell me your story, and I will… tell your fortune."
The consort of the Time Aspect knew the main points of the past of one of the last of the Black Dragonflight. Но she was specifically interested in the details of events, especially those that had happened relatively recently.
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Read the story months ahead of the public release — early chapters are available on my Patreon: patreon.com/Granulan