Richard Knaak: The Sundering

It’ll work! I know it’ll work! He had felt the Well’s astonishing properties himself. Even so minute an amount would be potent.

The stopper shaped like Queen Azshara once more danced for him before popping off. Letting the stopper fall to the grass, the night elf held the open container over the lake.

He poured the contents into the water.

The lake shimmered where the drops of the Well touched it. The water, originally a calm blue, suddenly glowed intensely where the drops hit. The change spread rapidly, first cutting across to the island, then around it. In but seconds, the entire lake had taken on a rich azure hue that no one could mistake as other than magic.

To Illidan’s heightened senses, the spectacle was even more breathtaking. He had expected a reproduction of the Well, but this was fascinating in itself.

Yet… it could still be so much more.

He reached into the pouch and removed a second vial.

This time, the sorcerer simply tore off the stopper and dumped the contents into the lake. As he did, the blue intensified further. Tendrils of raw energy began to play on the surface and Illidan felt a wonderful radiance that he had not experienced since the Well.

His lips parted. He wanted to throw himself into the water, but managed to hold back. His hand slipped to the pouch.

What would a third vial do?

He undid the stopper and started to pour.

“What by the Mother Moon are you doing there?”

Illidan had been so caught up in his efforts that he had failed to notice the approach of others. He spun about, the last vial still in his hand, to face a party of mounted figures, Jarod Shadowsong chief among them.

“Captain…” the sorcerer began.

One of the Highborne glanced past Illidan. “He’s done something to the lake! It — ” The spellcaster’s expression grew awed. “It feels like the Well — “

“Elune preserve us!” bellowed a noble next to Jarod. “He’s resurrecting it!”

The commander dismounted. “Illidan Stormrage! Cease this immediately! If not for your brother, I’d — ”

“My brother…” An imperious fury arose, fueled by his nearness to the enchanted lake. Once more, the power surged through him. He was capable of anything… “Always my precious brother…”

The others dismounted, following Jarod Shadowsong. Their wary expressions made Illidan tense. They wanted to keep him from the lake’s power! He eyed the Highborne, who would certainly attempt to usurp it for themselves…

“No…”

One of the nobles hesitated. “By Elune! What sort of eyes does he have that glow beneath that veil?”

Illidan glared at the Highborne.

Their leader raised a hand in defense. “Look out — ”

Flames erupted around the other sorcerers. They screamed.

Jarod and the nobles charged him. Illidan sneered at the paltry threat and gestured.

The ground beneath them exploded. Jarod was tossed back. The lead noble, Blackforest flew high in the air, finally striking a tree with a resounding crack.

“You stupid fools! You — ”

His feet suddenly sank into the earth. As he looked down, tree branches wrapped around his body, pinning his legs together and his arms to his torso. Illidan tried to speak, but his mouth filled with leaves that adhered to his tongue. The sorcerer could not even concentrate, for a buzzing echoed in his ears, as if a thousand tiny insects nestled in them.

Gasping, Illidan slumped to his knees. Through the buzzing, he vaguely sensed someone else approaching. The sorcerer knew without a doubt who it had to be…

“Oh, Illidan…” Malfurion’s voice cut perfectly through the buzzing. “Illidan… why?”

The druid stared at the lake, its blazing blue color a clear sign of its contamination. No one could drink from it now. Like the Well of Eternity before it, it was now a fount of power, not life.

“Oh, Illidan…” he repeated, eyeing his bound twin.

“Dath’Remar is still alive,” reported Tyrande, kneeling beside the Highborne leader. “One more also, but the others are dead.” She shuddered. “They were burned in their skins…”

Malfurion had intended to come alone, only the dragons and Krasus with him, but, like the druid, Tyrande had somehow sensed that Illidan was up to something. With several of her priestesses in tow, she had ridden after the dragons, but had arrived too late.

As had Malfurion.

“Lord Blackforest is dead. The others, I think can be saved,” announced another priestess.

“My… brother lives,” managed Maiev. She and Shandris both attended to an unconscious Jarod. He had bruises all over his face and his armor was even more battered now. Dried blood caked several wounds already healing thanks to the prayers of the priestesses.

Jarod’s sister rose and her countenance was one terrible to behold. She started for Illidan, at the same time drawing her weapon.

“No, Maiev!” Tyrande commanded.

“He almost slew my brother!”

The high priestess met her. “But failed. His fate is not yours to decide. Jarod will do so.” She glanced at Malfurion. “Is that not so?”

He nodded sadly. “It’s his right and I’ll not argue it.” The druid shook his head. “So, this is why he stayed so near the shore of the Well.”

“I didn’t know that he had gathered more,” Tyrande added apologetically.

With a sudden hunch, Malfurion knelt near his brother. Illidan’s breathing was even, but he stiffened when he sensed Malfurion near. The druid searched the pouch.

“At least four more vials… he would have turned this lake completely into another Well.”

“Can anything be done to change it back?”

Krasus had remained in the background, watching the events unfold. Now, however, the cowled mage muttered, “No… nothing. What has been done cannot be undone.”

Alexstrasza, however, added, “We can do something to make of it a different force. One not as treacherous in nature as the Well became.”

The mage’s eyes momentarily widened. “Ah! Of course!”

Malfurion forced himself from his brother’s side. “And what’s that?”

The three dragons glanced at one another, each nodding agreement. Alexstrasza turned back to the night elves. “We are going to plant a tree.”

“A tree?” The druid looked to Krasus for some sort of clarification.

But the mage, his own expression guarded, simply answered, “Not a tree. The tree.”

They quickly turned it into a ceremony so as to lessen the impact of Illidan’s misdeeds. The sorcerer was hidden away in order to prevent further trouble and Jarod’s sister volunteered to guard him until a final fate could be decided. Jarod, healed by Shandris and Maiev, insisted that, when that time came, it would not be only his choice, but Malfurion’s.

Other than Krasus, Rhonin, and the dragons, there were only night elves at the gathering. What the Aspects intended was for their race, which had suffered so much and feared for its continuance. Nobles, Highborne, and representatives of what had once been the lower castes assembled. The rest of the survivors gathered as they could down below, unable to see the spectacle but aware that it would influence the course of their lives.

Malfurion and the rest who had been invited journeyed to the island at the center of the lake. Despite Hyjal’s tremendous height, the top of the peak was fairly warm, perhaps even more so now that the lake had become touched by magic.

“It’s beautiful,” Tyrande whispered.

“Would that it was only that,” Malfurion replied morosely. Illidan continued to be in his thoughts. He already had some suggestions as to what to do about his twin and it pained the druid to imagine them being put into action. Yet, Illidan clearly could not longer be trusted. He had slain others out of madness. His notion that the night elves needed a new Well in order to protect themselves against some possible future attack by the Burning Legion was not sufficient reason for his heinous crimes.