Richard Knaak - The Sundering

Uneasy rumbling rose from both the nobles and the Highborne. The words of the high priestess were not to be taken lightly.

“We have survived this struggle, but, if we do not come together, we may not survive our own evolution. Consider this before you begin resurrecting old enmities…”

And with that, Tyrande turned. Maiev eyed her brother with what Jarod realized was confidence in him.

As his sister followed Tyrande, he saw that Shandris Feathermoon had been standing behind her. The departing novice gave Jarod an unabashed smile that made him more uncomfortable than the presence of the nobles and the sorcerers, yet, at the same time added to the lightening of his heart.

Blackforest cleared his throat. Jarod quickly returned to the matter at hand. “You’ve heard the voice of the Mother Moon and I couldn’t agree more with her words. What say you?”

Blackforest opened his mouth, but Dath’Remar managed to answer before the armored aristocrat could utter a sound. “We greatly respect the word of the high priestess and will do what we can to make further amends for our past transgressions… if we will be permitted the opportunity by our august companions.”

The lead noble let out a grunt. “We will do no less. If the Highborne have seen the error of their ways, we will accept their return to the fold and welcome their effort as we all seek to rebuild our home.”

Both answers were spoken with some lingering animosity, but it was the best that Jarod could hope for at this point. There would be confrontations ahead, but perhaps none that would drag his people down to oblivion.

“I thank you all for coming and for seeing reason. Let us now begin to consider how best to take advantage of the miracle that’s let us survive.”

Several voices from both factions began speaking at once, each trying to come up with better ideas than the others. Jarod grimaced, then started trying to pick out the best ones.

One immediately caught his attention. “Water!” he interrupted. Something that had been reported to him by a scout came to mind. A lake at the very top of Hyjal. It was worth investigating. He decided to do so himself, though, if only to gain some reprieve from all his other responsibilities. “Lord Blackforest! I’d like three volunteers from among you! I’ve a short excursion in mind…” To Dath’Remar, he added, “From your group, too…”

As they chose from among themselves, Jarod congratulated himself. The excursion would also be a good opportunity to force the parties to work together. It was a safe, quiet event, but one, because of the importance of water, that would resound well among his people. If the nobles and sorcerers reported the findings together, the rest would see that cooperation was possible.

Jarod fought back a smile. Perhaps he was finally learning about leadership after all…

“Malfurion…”

The druid tore his gaze from the new sea. “Master Krasus.”

The dragon mage grimaced. “Equals need no title between one another. Please, for the last time, I am merely Krasus.”

“I will try.” Unconsciously, Malfurion took a step back from his friend. “Did you want something?”

“No… but they do.”

A great beating of wings filled the night elf’s ears. Dust arose around him and suddenly three gargantuan forms alighted behind the cowled figure.

Alexstrasza. Ysera. Nozdormu.

“You know why we have come,” the red female said softly.

Malfurion’s hand slipped to the pouch at his side. “You want it. You want the Soul.”

“The Demon Soul,” Krasus corrected. “You forgot to give it over to the Aspects once we landed. The heat of the moment, no doubt.”

“Yes… yes…” The druid’s hand thrust into the pouch. His fingers encircled the disk, caressing it in the process. Why did he have to give it up? Had he not proven that he had the right to it? Had he not singlehandedly used it to rid Kalimdor of not one menace, but two?

“Malfurion…”

If they felt that they deserved it more than him, why did he not just make them try to take it? Between his own skills and the power of the Soul, he could surely slay them all —

Disgust filled the druid. He quickly drew the damnable disk from its hiding place, then held it out for the mage to take.

Krasus nodded. “I knew you would make the correct decision.” Yet, he did not accept the Demon Soul directly, instead pointing to the ground. “Please place it there.”

Brow arched in curiosity, Malfurion obeyed. The moment that the disk left his grasp, he felt as if a tremendous weight lifted from his back.

“Step away, please.”

When the night elf had obeyed, Krasus faced the three Aspects. “Will your power be enough?”

“It will have to be,” replied Nozdormu.

The trio arched their necks, bringing their colossal heads within inches of the Demon Soul.

“We cannot bind it completely,” Alexstrasza uttered. “That is beyond even all of us put together. Yet, we can ensure that Neltharion — Deathwing — cannot wield it any better than us.”

“A wise maneuver, as I said,” Krasus responded. Yet, Malfurion sensed again that the cowled figure, the dragon in mortal form, held back important information from even the queen he so obviously adored. What it was, the night elf could not even hazard, but there was a sadness in Krasus’s ancient eyes that the mage quickly hid whenever the leviathans glanced his way.

The three giants stared at the tiny object, the simple golden disk that had caused so much calamity. They stared at it… and the Demon Soul was suddenly engulfed in a rainbow of energies. Dominating were red, green, and the brilliant bronze of the sandy Nozdormu. The Demon Soul rose several inches off the ground, hovering just before the Aspects. The magical forces unleashed by the dragons circulated around it, in the process turning the disk over and over.

Then… one by one, those energies sank into the black dragon’s abomination. Red, then green, then bronze, followed by the myriad colors accompanying each.

The spellwork ceased. The Demon Soul dropped, clattering on the hard ground. It looked unchanged, undiminished.

“Did it work?” he asked.

“It has.” Krasus met the druid’s eyes. “Malfurion, I ask you to pick it up again.”

Loathe as he was to touch the piece, the night elf acquiesced. Oddly, Malfurion discovered that he had no more desire to keep the Demon Soul. Either the dragons had made that so or his will had grown stronger.

The mage glanced at the Aspects, who nodded in unison. To Malfurion, he respectfully said, “There is a place we know. A place the black one would not. With your permission, we will show it to you in your mind… and then I ask that you call upon your own skills to send that foul thing there.”

Although he felt capable of doing as Krasus asked, Malfurion frowned. “Can’t you do it?”

“Before, I alone might have been able to carry the disk, albeit with difficulty. The others, they could not because of Deathwing’s handiwork. Now, this new spell has made it impossible for the black one or any other dragon to touch the Demon Soul, much less use it. That is why we need you for this.”

Nodding, the druid held out the disk. “Show me.”

Krasus and the Aspects stared deep. Malfurion shook momentarily as they entered his thoughts.

The image they created was so vivid that he almost felt as if he had visited it himself. Eager to be rid of the Demon Soul, the druid quickly said, “I have it.”

With much relief, Malfurion sent the golden disk away.

Krasus exhaled. “Thank you.”

The Aspects nodded their heads in gratitude. Then, Alexstrasza looked to the sky. “The clouds… they are beginning to part…”