Richard Knaak - The Well of Eternity

“You offered to teach me—us—” Malfurion responded, “what no night elf has ever learned…” He still recalled the day when he had approached the sacred wood. Legends abounded about Cenarius, but Malfurion had wanted to know the truth. However, when he had called out to the demigod, he had not actually expected an answer.

He had also not expected Cenarius to offer to be his teacher. Why the demigod would take on so—mundane—a task was beyond Malfurion. Yet, here they were together. They were more than deity and night elf, more than teacher and student…they were also friends.

“No other night elf truly wishes to learn my ways,” Cenarius replied. “Even those who has taken up the mantle of the forest…none of them has truly followed the path I now show you. You are the first with the possible aptitude, the possible will, to truly understand how to wield the forces inherent in all nature. And when I say ‘you,’ young elf, I speak entirely in the singular.”

This was not what Malfurion had remained to talk about and so the words struck him hard. “But—but Tyrande and Illidan—”

The demigod shook his head. “Of Tyrande, we have already spoken. She has promised herself to Elune and I will not poach in the Moon Goddess’s realm! Of your brother, however, I can only say that there is much promise to Illidan…but I believe that promise lies elsewhere.”

“I—I don’t know what to say…” And in truth, Malfurion did not. To be told so suddenly that Illidan and he would not follow the same path, that Illidan even appeared to waste his efforts here…it was the first time that the twins would not share in their success. “No! Illidan will learn! He’s just more headstrong! There’s so much pressure upon him! His eyes—”

“Are a sign of some future mark upon the world, but he will not make it following my teachings.” Cenarius gave Malfurion a gentle smile. “But you will try to teach him yourself, will you not? Perhaps you can succeed where I have failed?”

The night elf flushed. Of course his shan’do would read his thoughts on that subject. Yes, Malfurion intended to do what he could to push Illidan further along…but he knew that doing so would be a harder task. Learning from the demigod was one thing; learning from Malfurion would be another. It would show that Illidan was not first, but second.

“Now,” added the forest lord quietly, as a small red bird alighted on his antlers and its paler mate did so on his arm. Such sights were common around Cenarius, but they ever left the elf marveling. “You came to ask of me something…”

“Yes. Great Cenarius…I’ve been troubled by a dream, a reoccurring one.”

The golden eyes narrowed. “Only a dream? That is what troubles you?”

Malfurion grimaced. He had already berated himself several times for even thinking of distracting the demigod with his problem. Of what harm was a dream, even one that repeated itself? Everyone dreamed. “Yes…it comes to me every time I sleep and since I’ve been learning from you…it’s grown stronger, more demanding.”

He expected Cenarius to laugh at him, but instead the forest lord studied him closely. Malfurion felt the golden orbs—so much more arresting than even his brother’s own—burrow deep within him, reading the night elf inside and out.

At last, Cenarius leaned back. He nodded once to himself and in a more solemn voice said, “Yes, you are ready, I think.”

“Ready for what?”

In response, Cenarius held up one hand. The red bird leapt down to the offered hand, its mate joining it there. The demigod stroked the backs of both once, whispered something to them, then let the pair fly off.

Cenarius looked down at the night elf. “Illidan and Tyrande will be informed that you are staying behind for a time. They have been told to leave without you.”

“But why?”

The golden eyes flared. “Tell me of your dream.”

Taking a deep breath, Malfurion began. The dream started as always, with the Well of Eternity as its focal point. At first the waters were calm, but then, from the center, a maelstrom rapidly formed…and from the depths of the maelstrom, creatures burst forth, some of them harmless, others malevolent. Many he did not even recognize, as if they came from other worlds, other times. They spread in every direction, fleeing beyond his sight.

Suddenly, the whirlpool vanished and Malfurion stood in the midst of Kalimdor…but a Kalimdor stripped of all life. A horrible evil had laid waste to the entire land, leaving not so much as a blade of grass or a tiny insect alive. The once-proud cities, the vast, lush woodlands…nothing had been spared.

Even more terrible, for as far as the eye could see, the scorched, cracked bones of night elves lay strewn everywhere. The skulls had been caved in. The stench of death was strong in the air. No one, not even the old, infirm, or young, had been spared.

Heat, horrific heat, had assailed Malfurion then. Turning, he had seen in the distance a vast fire, an inferno reaching into the heavens. It burned everything it touched, even the very wind. Where it moved, nothing…absolutely nothing…remained. Yet, as frightening as the scene had been, it was not that which had finally awakened the night elf in a cold sweat, but rather something he had sensed about the fire.

It had been alive . It knew the terrors it wrought, knew and reveled in them. Reveled…and hungered for more.

All humor had fled Cenarius’s visage by the time Malfurion finished. His gaze flickered to his beloved forest and the creatures thriving within. “And this nightmare repeats itself with every slumber?”

“Every one. Without fail.”

“I fear, then, that this is an omen. I sensed in you from our first encounter the makings of the gift of prescience—one of the reasons I chose to make myself known to you—but it is stronger than even I ever expected.”

“But what does it mean?” the young night elf pleaded. “If you say this is an omen, I’ve got to know what it portends.”

“And we shall try to discover that. I said, after all, that you are ready.”

“Ready for what?”

Cenarius folded his arms. His tone grew more grave.

“Ready to walk the Emerald Dream .”

Nothing in the demigod’s teachings so far had referred to this Emerald Dream, but the manner in which Cenarius spoke of it made Malfurion realize the importance of this next step. “What is it?”

“What is it not? The Emerald Dream is the world beyond the waking world. It is the world of the spirit, the world of the sleepers. It is the world as it might have been, if we sentient creatures had not come about to ruin it. In the Emerald Dream, it is possible, with practice, to see anything, go anywhere. Your body will enter a trance and your dream form will fly from it to wherever you need to go.”

“It sounds—”

“Dangerous? It is, young Malfurion. Even the well-trained, the experienced, can lose themselves in the Emerald Dream. You note I call it the Emerald Dream . That is the color of its mistress, Ysera, the Great Aspect. It is the realm of her and her dragon flight. She guards it well and allows only a few to enter it. My own dryads and keepers make use of the Emerald Dream in their duties, but sparingly.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” Malfurion admitted with a shake of his head.

“Likely because no night elf save those in my service has ever walked it…and they only when they were no longer of your race. You would be the first of your kind to truly take the path…if you so desire.”

The idea both unnerved and excited Malfurion. It would be the next step in his studies and a way, perhaps, to make sense of his constant nightmare. Yet…Cenarius had made it clear that the Emerald Dream could also be deadly.