Helya, a Titans blacksmith, was once an ally of Odyn.
To protect Azeroth, Odyn, with Helya's help, built Hall of Valor to transform suitable Vrykul Restless Souls into heroic spirits, in order to deal with any possible invasions from external enemies.
Because after mortals die, their souls enter the mysterious Shadowlands, a dangerous place that even Odyn dares not easily venture into. In order to guide suitable Vrykul souls from the Shadowlands into Hall of Valor, it is necessary to create Val'kyr that can travel between reality and the Shadowlands and remain in a spiritual state forever.
No Vrykul wanted to become Val'kyr, Odyn wanted to forcibly convert some Vrykul into Val'kyr, while Helya insisted that the Vrykul's choice must be respected, leading to a disagreement between the two.
Odyn's despicable and shameless ambush on Helya shattered Helya physical form and then twisted her soul, making her the first Val'kyr in history, which brought their hatred to an irreconcilable point.
Later, with the help of the schemer Loken, Helya was able to break free from Odyn's control and gain her own will. She banished Odyn, her former ally and now her enemy, and his Hall of Valor, and created the Helheim beneath Hall of Valor.
In this way, Helya replaced Odyn and took control of all the souls of the Vrykul.
Helya's enormous body did not enter the real world; what was on the ghost ship was merely a projection of her. Perhaps reminiscing about the good old days when she had a physical form, the projected Helya revealed a captivating smile:
"The Restless Souls of Silvermoon City have all come to me, so what will you gain, Guardian Medivh?"
Recalling the Abyss the underworld and Helya's terrifying, twisted form, Medivh felt an extreme unease. He lowered his head, avoiding looking at Helya's face, and forced a reply:
"These Restless Souls need to return to their bodies, serve me, wage war under the banner of the Scourge, and tarnish Arthas's reputation. In ten years at most, they will return to the Helheim and become your Warriors."
Helya flew to Medivh, looked him straight in the eyes, and mocked:
"You are a treacherous man, Guardian Medivh. If Odyn weren't so stubborn, I would never have become your ally." Helya paused, then began to bargain. "I don't believe the Restless Souls of the High Elves are stronger than the heroic spirits of the Vrykul. The valiant Vrykul are the Titans' most perfect creation, so this is not enough."
Medivh hesitated for a long time before finally throwing out another offer. "I admit that the Titans' creations are close to perfect, but through natural selection and evolution, a perfect race can also be born. A High Elf without Mana Addiction —I wonder if that would satisfy you, Lady Helya?"
"You're funny, Medivh, but you've misjudged me, and you've overestimated your own worth."
Helya smiled mysteriously, her tone resolute and proud, and said, "I only want to prove to Odyn that the Helya'gar I created possesses greater power than Odyn's Valarjar Legion. Odyn is wrong. A High Elf without Mana Addiction is not enough to attract me. You can keep it for yourself."
"And what about Arthas's power?" Medivh had no choice but to reveal his last trump card, reluctantly opting to share the spoils that hadn't yet fallen into his hands:
"I think you should know what the power of Frostmourne means: an overwhelming Scourge of Undead, towering Abominations, Gargoyles filling the sky, Death Knights stomping across the land. Who knows what else the Scourge might do? Maybe they can even resurrect Dragons!"
Helya's pupils constricted sharply.
The war left Silvermoon City with wounds that would never heal. Ruins and rubble lay scattered everywhere, the flames of war still burning, leaving the city in ruins.
Seeing that the Scourge had withdrawn, Medivh floated in the air and shouted:
"Restless Souls of Silvermoon City! I have generously given you a chance, but your King remains obstinate, preferring to trust the cruel Orcs. Know that today, your entire race will be wiped out, and the legacy of your ancestors will be erased! Death itself has come to take over your once magnificent kingdom!"
"Stop shouting." Helya's face was dark. "There's no one here anymore, neither living nor dead."
Medivh was clearly stunned. After the Orcs slaughtered Silvermoon City, he was eager to go to the Helheim to ask Helya for help, which was planned in advance. He did not know that Arthas had resurrected the people in the city.
"Our deal is off, Medivh," Helya said curtly.
The ghost ship left a white trail as the black area moved rapidly and quickly disappeared into the depths of the ocean.
"Arthas, you've done very well, beyond my expectations, but do you think that's all?" Medivh clapped his hands, Dreadlord Tichondrius appeared before him.
"Great Guardian, the seeds of darkness have been sown. Sylvanas has become the leader of the Forsaken. A cowardly, fear-driven Dark Lady will be a good inside man for us."
"We'll talk about Sylvanas later." Medivh narrowed his eyes, his expression vicious. "The Scourge's crimes aren't enough. Silvermoon City alone isn't enough to draw the attention of the races. We need more bloodshed. Let's proceed according to the original plan. It's time for Dalaran destroyed."
"I will inform Thrall to proceed according to the previous plan."
The ghost ship sailed Anjing on the sea, while the beautiful Helya projection fell into deep thought.
The Shadow Realm contain a great secret: an ancient world that is not attached to Azeroth, and that existed even before the birth of mortals in the physical universe.
Odyn traded one of his eyes for a mere glimpse of the edge of the Shadow Realm, but only managed to see the mist.
Arthas's power must be related to the secrets of the Shadow Realm. Helya sensed the power of the World of the Dead emanating from Silvermoon City, Helya had a premonition that Arthas was a far more reliable ally Medivh.
Odyn's betrayal made Helya much more vigilant; she would not easily trust anyone.
"It requires contact and probing, gradual understanding, to determine whether Arthas is someone worthy of trust."
Helya made up her mind, and she sent out a Val'kyr.
The Violet Citadel, with its birdsong and fragrant flowers in the back garden, still couldn't soothe the pain in Thrall's heart.
"Damn you, Elven Prince Kael'thas! I'll kill you before I deal with Arthas!"
Thrall cursed viciously, his temper growing increasingly volatile. Many Shaman Orcs already been chopped into mincemeat and used as fertilizer.
Silvermoon City, Kael'thas's furious attack caused Thrall to accidentally burn off a part of his body.
With the high level of magic in Azeroth, various healing spells are abundant, and even the dead can be resurrected. This injury is nothing at all. Thrall was a Shaman, so he recovered quickly.
But for some reason, that part stopped working properly.
Thrall dared not make a sound, after all, he was the Orcs Warchief. If people knew that he was impotent in certain areas, wouldn't that be a great disgrace, and how could he have the face to manage the Orcs Legion?
This concerns a man's dignity and cannot be taken lightly.
He secretly found a doctor; if the illness was incurable, he would kill the person to keep it a secret.
The Orcs Shaman have been almost wiped out, yet things haven't improved; in fact, they've gotten worse.
We have no choice but to resort to unorthodox methods!