Tyrande’s presence is a fleeting comfort—something he has not felt for so very long. Her words are optimistic, and he almost doesn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise. Illidan does not expect to survive Argus. He doesn’t expect many to make it back.
“ What comes next is for you to decide, ” he says. Perhaps Malfurion as well, given his skills at healing the land. Where Illidan is a weapon to have his edges blunted over and over against the demon’s forces, his brother and childhood friend are those who heal. “ Not I. ”
It’s not much. But it is all he has to offer her.
It is not the answer Tyrande is willing to accept. It is too simple for a situation that proves to be anything but that.
There is no fury to stiffen her posture or set her jaw hard as stone, but there is a sharpness to her gaze that has always lingered. A scrutiny, an attempt to know the unknowable.
“ Yet by your hand, Argus now shadows our home. Did you not think of what was to come after? ”
That she asks at all means she does not find herself able to decide his intentions. Doubt sways, a pendulum’s pace.
“ If we are to defeat the Legion only to find ourselves on a collision course with the world they conquered, what then? What measures have you taken to ensure this isn’t our fate? ”
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Tyrande’s position does not afford her the possibility of living only in the moment. The fate of the world spins out ahead of them all, so close the opportunity is nearly one they can grasp in their hands. The pendulum sways. The scales groan. One shift or another, there will be an ending to this.
If it is the one Tyrande holds dearest to her heart, the one Azeroth tirelessly fights for, that means a beginning, too.
" When your envoys arrived to warn us of the demons in our midst, I knew they were right. The Illidari would be an ally we could not overlook. What remains to be seen is what comes after the storm. If we are able to reclaim our home, what will your Illidari do then? "
There are all sorts of theories flying around about the nature of El//une. The most popular ties in with the naaru. At the very least, we know she created them so it’s easy to see how that would track and it might in the end. But I have a few theories on my own that I intend to use as headcanons for my writing.
The main theory I’m touching on here, especially in the wake of Ar//gus: El//une is an example of Light and Shadow in balance.
My thought process behind this:
Supposedly, creation became viable when Light and Shadow first collided. All life is made of both. This is the setting’s version of the Big Bang. (”We are made of star stuff.”)
El//une has an offspring who is not a naaru: Cen//arius. Her consort and father of Cen//arius, Mal//orne, is regularly spoken with by druids and other patrons of nature. He’s a giant, sentient stag.
We know actual pantheons exist who again are not na//aru. The Wild Gods. The Titans.
Na//aru as her creation could still be entirely true. Perhaps even Void Lords for that matter. How? Moonkin, which she is all but said to have created. Look what happens to them when they get disrupted from communing with El//une. They get pretty gruesome and druids everywhere were simply shocked at how any guardian of El//une could wield “dark magic.”
See also the Worg//en Curse and the Scythe of El//une -- examples of what happens when balance is not upheld.
See also the solar-lunar aesthetic when you play a Balance druid and that it takes balance to wield the power of the Scythe as it should be.
El//une is inherently a goddess of the night (where the moons are most visible), the dark places where a different sort of atmosphere comes to life. Her followers are usually nocturnal. Creatures that are patron to her (such as the guardian spider in Tel//drassil) are those too often associated with outright corruption but need not necessarily be. Even so, her powers are still empowered by a variation of Light.
The gifts she gives her greatest followers, the Night Elves, reflect this dichotomy. Take a look at those racial passives. Shifting bonuses during the day and night. Melding with the shadows to go unseen. These aren’t recent changes in the instance of the latter. That stealth mission past the Legion in WCIII was an example of Shadowmeld.
At the very least, all these things combine to make a picture of someone who isn’t overly involved in absolutes like certain na//aru. (You know the one.) Whether all na//aru are retconned to hold this view, we don’t know yet. But Lo//cus-Walker explains to us through the narrative that the entities of Light and entities of Shadow see each other as obstacles and as in the wrong.
I don’t think my theory is One True Interpretation or even inherently right (plot twists happen all the time), but I’m posting it here because it’s the backstory behind how I’ll handle the question of El//une until we know anything differently. Part of me hopes that question will never be answered. A little mystery can be a good thing for a setting, and I’d hate to see a mostly matriarchal society have their goddess undermined by a changing story, you know?
As surely as the goddess casts her light upon the world, there is now another that casts its long shadow. The shape of a fractured world, bleeding its remains into the ether.
The unease does not leave her. Night in, night out, scarcely can she ignore the echo of venomous power. Time is of the essence. They will defeat the Legion upon that looming world, or it will swiftly usher in their demise. The same opportunity afforded to them is granted to their enemy.
“ You see the immediate necessity before us, but I must look to what lies beyond. What will become of these two worlds when this conflict reaches its end? ”
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“ You came to me a year ago and spoke of the puzzlebox. Its maker yet lived. I remember those words vividly. ”
A strange tiding but one Tyrande felt in her heart to be true. That instinct does not lead her astray. As a poison slowly creeps, so too does the corruption of the Old God, influencing the machinations of fallen Titan cities and preparing for an inevitable bid for freedom.
“ Your wisdom was not misplaced. Yogg-Saron has displayed their power, subtly but undeniably. I fear where one war reaches its end, another is set to rise. ”
He had to push aside the unease. The High Priestess was not like King Genn Greymane or Jaina Proudmoore… She knew the cost of fighting the Legion, this was not her first time facing a full on Legion invasion.
“Me and my men will take the vanguard and push forward. Can I trust your sentinels to provide cover fire?”
No, it isn’t Tyrande’s first encounter with the Burning Legion’s might. Their deception had destroyed her ancient homeland, the resulting war utterly fracturing the face of the world into what it currently is. Left unchecked -- Azeroth’s forces divided, distracted -- they stand an opportunity to do far worse.
No dispute between Alliance and Horde could ever cause her to overlook that.
“ They can and will. Make no mistake that they are an army and will fill whatever position we lack. ”
The last time he had seen HER, it was his banishment from his homeland– amongst other things the last image he had of her was with his incorrigible cur of a brother, Malfurion. Just the name alone brought a growl up from the depths of his lips. Trying his best to sate the sound, his claws curled inwards along the grasps of his blades, keeping them secured along his sides as a safe-keep in case her elusive guards decided to try anything. Even attempting to try to say her name was becoming quite difficult for the hunter, only being able to do so after a small inhale.
❝ How many did you have to slaughter to get to me this time? ❝
This time, it is not her own people who stand in her way. The bloodied path she’s forced to cut to reach Illidan is through the chaos created by the demons running rampant upon the area. Ash’alah’s great paws had maneuvered their blades and later, over their fallen corpses riddled with arrows and burned by the moon’s light.
“ I would have thought you would revel in the chance to show your might against these creatures. Why do you hesitate, Illidan? What is the meaning of this? ”
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Ten thousand years ago, his family was one amongst many highborne bloodlines that rebelled against their queen and aided the rest of the kaldorei resistance in pushing back the Burning Legion. Now, he was fighting besides the veterans of that very same war, against the same foe. But here, he stood as the Highlord of the Silver Hand.
The paladin gave Tyrande a firm nod, “It is a honor to fight besides you, High Priestess. I fight for the sake of our world, as do my men.” Dwarves and draenei fought besides tauren and blood elves. All paladins, all fighting for the same cause. “The lines of factions do not matter to me.” He raised his shield, a massive, titanforged barrier crafted during an age that predated the first elves, and imbued with the power of the Light itself.
“If you suspect anything… You will have a clear shot at my back.”
“ Rest assured, I would take that shot if I believed you were capable of treachery. ”
The paladin orders have united before. Tyrande does not doubt they will prove beneficial, but not everyone so easily puts their former ties aside. The precaution is necessary, and she doesn’t shy away from what is.
Her expression shifts like a summer thunderstorm -- quick to cloud, fiercely lash, and depart as mercurially. With their understanding reached, the Priestess appears content. He is not her enemy.
“ Then let us march, Highlord. The Sentinels have already taken up their positions. ”
The man stood like a statue. Appearing from the darkness like a wraith and standing as still as one of the Grove Ancients that overlooked Darnassus. Hands were curled firmly around Atiesh, which glowed an off hue. A ghost of a ghost of a ghost.
His eyes narrowed firmly, as though staring off into a void that only he could see. But, he knew that both of them could see the Flames and feel the cold heat from the Legion’s fist.
There was far too much their foul taint was doing to this world.
“My lady.”
He responded in a cool tone. Formal and discreet, though with a slight warmness that indicated he was not there as an enemy.
“I am afraid I do not come for good things. It would appear that this time
it is imperative that I come out from my rest.”
He again focused outwards, towards the trees that lined along the Temple. There was always an odd energy to be felt, up here in the north of Kalimdor. An old, old energy. One that was different from his own, though he could feel his connection to the Arcane pulse. After all, had not all magic come from the Well, so long ago? Had it not come from immortal hands?
Even for one who felt as old as he, he was but a newborn amidst these trees.
These vestiges of Kalimdor are old, a refuge cut out by the Kaldorei who would not sink with the machinations of their former queen. So far ahead, the past all too distant but never quite enough, the impact of those days can still be felt upon the lands, the trees, the people. Since then, they have fastidiously guarded themselves against the influences that would bring about a similar unraveling.
Tyrande had willfully shunned all that had reminded her of the arrogance, the vanity, of the ancient nobility, and yet, it had not been enough. As it is time and again, the Legion only needs the most fleeting of footholds to make itself a danger, and that is more than what they have achieved.
Her place is at the center of the storm; this, she feels. But she doesn’t fully understand to what end that will be. What they need, before any rash decisions can be made, is a full idea of what the Legion brings with them: their tactics, their allies, their weaknesses, their power. It is all they can do to defend their homelands, but to attempt to push them back and hold that ground will always be an uphill battle. They cannot without seeing to the source of the Legion’s incursion.
“ Then you know as we already do. ”
The green flames. The scores of demons. Ashenvale is not the only land to see their march.
“ Our armies are mobilized. Defenders stand ready, even as many others fall. It is all we can do to keep the flames from our cities. ”
“Than allow me to provide assistance, High Priestess.” The blue dragon asked. In her half elven form known as Lilyum. She had changed into such a form as she didn’t like her wings so close to very large trees.
“How many I aid you?” It was best to clear the way ahead. Not just for herself but for others.
At that, Tyrande gives pause, considering the half-elf more closely. She does emanate a certain power, familiar yet not, and if she is capable, then her assistance may be necessary.
“ Demons have gained a foothold in these forests. Their encampment is stationed up ahead. If you intend to help, your expertise would not be turned away. We march as soon as our reinforcements arrive. ”
Tyrande would not let doubt be the reason that the Legion takes its hold. Neither does she completely remove the idea that opportunists would not seize the moment. The war between the Alliance and the Horde is bloodier as the years go onward, but only fools fight over the ashes of a home as it smolders to the ground.
“ Our goal is united, blood elf. I will trust you as my ally for so long as our arrangement holds. Do not give me cause to regret that decision. ”
It is impossible to avoid the places from his youth, it seems. Illidan is doomed to once more visit these lands, Tyrande as his company and sole interest in protecting. The contingent of Sentinel’s at his back might as well not exist for how much he acknowledges them. His hooves make indentations on the dirt path they travel, recently taken by the heroes of the realm, it seems. He has refused to take a saber cat. The creature would not have him anyways.
His wings are folded tightly around him, the tips swaying with each step. He could take to the skies and be at their destination in no time at all. The tearing he feels is that of remaining in Tyrande’s company, and heading off the Legion as quickly as he can. She wins this time narrowly. It gives him a chance to survey the changes.
“A sound plan.” He looks to her. “I’d expect nothing less from you.”
Most of the sabers would not, no, but there is one who takes exception to Illidan’s appearance: Ash’alah herself, whose strides support Tyrande with little effort. Her curiosity is not especially tactful, the saber’s muzzle scenting as close to Illidan as she dares. Tyrande sees in Ash’alah the confusion, the familiarity that blends with such chaotic magic. (After all, had Ash’alah not been a cub and grown up as they had?) It’s one that Tyrande shares in, the slant of her mouth equal parts wistful and rueful, never quite settling on either.
With an exaggerated huff, Ash’alah turns her armored head away. Tyrande soothes the saber with a simple placement of a hand, a reassuring gesture. Ash’alah is as much a guardian as any Kaldorei to lift a weapon in the name of their people, and she is not so easily startled.
“ I do only what anyone in my position would. ” The specter of Azshara’s downfall is a reminder, even as she brushes the moment aside. “ Elevation will give our archers a suitable vantage point, but we will be prone to aerial attacks. Your knowledge of wards will be of use, Illidan; should you need assistance while your recruits find their way here, I have made arrangements among the archmages. They will meet us shortly. ”
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Ashenvale burns. Not for the first time in her long life, unnatural, fel-green flames cinder the wilds she has dedicated herself to protecting. It takes judgement and restraint to keep her within the Temple, but she has sent the Sentinel General, Shandris Feathermoon, in her place knowing well that she is capable.
The hardest part is the waiting. Apparently, there is a visitor who feels quite the same.
The arrival draws the priestess from her pacing, a curious gaze affixed to a form that should not be familiar yet is.
“ Guardian. ”
Tyrande has not yet decided if Medivh’s presence is a glimmer of hope or an ill omen. There is the matter of his defeat and downfall, his supposed death -- but of all the Kaldorei, Tyrande has always stood as the more pragmatic. Her sight will not turn from the greater threat, the return of the Legion.
“ I take it your presence here isn’t for pleasantries alone. ”
There are few who know the passage of time as the Kaldorei once had. The Dragon Aspects, who have been both ally and friend to them these long years, are among them, ancient and wise. Tyrande herself had been young when they had rallied to expel the demonic influence from Azeroth, a feat that would have been that much more difficult if not for the Flights’ assistance. Since then and well into the modern age, Tyrande has regarded them with respect and has never turned away their presence within her halls.
“ Lifebinder. It is an honor to have you among us. What brings you here? ”
