The attack came from a strong and ferocious leopard, which could talk; it was, of course, a Druid.
The only Druid capable of harming Sylvanas so fiercely could be Malfurion.
Sylvanas was in excruciating pain as Malfurion's claws tore at her. The leopard's claws concealed some mysterious natural toxin, and she felt waves of weakness and dizziness.
Sylvanas looked at Antonidas with difficulty, pleading for his help, only to see that Antonidas was already bound by a golden Rune chain and could not move.
Malfurion has appeared, so how far behind can Tyrande be?
"It's over."
Sylvanas's heart sank, and all hope vanished.
After successfully launching a sneak attack, Malfurion transformed back into human form and unleashed a series of Moonfire on Sylvanas.
Powerful Moonfire struck Sylvanas, cracking her skin and causing the Fel energy within her to surge uncontrollably, resulting in screams of agony. At the same time, a flash of silver light appeared.
Tyrande, clad in silver armor and wielding a sharp Moonblade, easily severed Sylvanas's head.
Holding Sylvanas's head in her hand, Tyrande let out a hearty laugh:
"Sylvanas, you have finally died by my hand. The years of war in Azeroth, the endless battles Alliance and the Horde, have come to an end today. I, Tyrande, have once again saved the world. I am the great Savior."
Sylvanas's death symbolizes the arrival of peace in Azeroth.
From the opening of the Dark Portal, the Orcs invaded Azeroth, and a war that lasted for more than thirty years began. The two factions were opposed to each other, countless heroes rose to prominence, and conspiracies and deaths led to the destruction of kingdom after kingdom. The blood of the innocent flowed freely, and countless families were torn apart. Finally, the war ended with Tyrande.
To demonstrate her great achievements, Tyrande displayed Sylvanas's head in various places: Stormwind City, Ironforge, Gilneas, Exodar, and finally, the head was sent back to Darnassus, where it was hung on the city walls forever.
Darnassus was decorated with lanterns and colorful decorations to celebrate Tyrande's great achievements. Night Elves sang and Bards sang praises of Tyrande and Malfurion's greatness.
Emissaries from all nations and races entered Darnassus, preparing to celebrate Tyrande and Malfurion. A grand feast was about to begin, a moment destined to be recorded in the annals of Azeroth.
Standing in the highest room of the Temple of the Moon, Tyrande, dressed in her finest attire, looked out the window at the cheering crowds everywhere, which greatly satisfied her vanity.
Suddenly, she heard the divine message from the Moon Goddess, and her expression immediately turned serious, her face filled with worry.
Malfurion looked at him strangely and asked, "What's wrong? Today is a holy day, and we've become the Saviors of Azeroth again. This is all thanks to my calculations; I knew Sylvanas would go to Light's Hope Chapel."
"The Elune has issued a divine decree," Tyrande said in a low voice, her face pale. "She commands us..."
Malfurion trembled with fear upon hearing this, and asked in astonishment, "Tyrande, you didn't hear wrong, did you? How could there be such a strange oracle? No, no, Mercy wouldn't be a gift from the Moon Goddess."
"I've checked it several times, there's no mistake," Tyrande said worriedly.
"The Moon Goddess's oracle must be obeyed and not disobeyed. What should we do? Evacuate all the inhabitants of Teldrassil and the messengers from outside, and then tell them we are going to burn our homeland down?"
"We can't do that," Malfurion said in a shrill voice, shaking his head firmly.
"Don't forget, we've only just become Saviors, and everyone outside is cheering and celebrating for us. How can we do something so inexplicable? It will damage our reputation, and everything we've done, our good name, will vanish. We must have a plan. Besides, burning Teldrassil won't be easy; after all, it's a World Tree."
Tyrande whispered, "The Moon Goddess told me that the trunk of Teldrassil is filled with a mineral called Azerite, which can be ignited with just a little Flame. Malfurion, if we don't do it, other Priests will. If the Moon Goddess displeases us, we will all lose power, or even die."
How could Tyrande and Malfurion willingly give up their power of ten thousand years? It would be worse than death for them.
On this joyous day, the two were plunged into sorrow, sitting in their chairs with furrowed brows.
Just then, a servant outside the door reported: The prophet Prophet Rakeesh, the leader of Exodar, has come to visit.
"Prophet Rakeesh? Never heard of him." Tyrande looked puzzled.
Malfurion explained, "Prophet Velen disappeared on the Broken Shore. The Draenei suspected he was most likely dead. The Draenei of Exodar nearly fell into civil war over the leadership. Then a mysterious Draenei appeared, claiming to be the son of Prophet Velen —this is Rakeesh."
"How can he prove he is the son of Velen?" Tyrande asked curiously.
"The Draenei naturally have their own methods for verifying bloodlines," Malfurion scoffed, his tone mocking.
"It's only natural for a son to inherit his father's position, but this Rakeesh is ruthless. He killed many of his people after taking power, showing no mercy whatsoever. In addition, he is particularly Pride and rude. I'm afraid he's up to no good. It's better not to see him."
"Rakeesh means Butcher in Eredun, how could Velen name his son that?" Tyrande shook her head, then suddenly her eyes lit up. "I have a good idea."
Tyrande and Malfurion, dressed in their finest attire, led envoys from various nations and peoples to welcome Rakeesh, the new leader of Exodar, with the highest honors.
Rakeesh was a tall Draenei, much taller than the Prophet Velen, and both Tyrande and Malfurion sensed the presence of Fel within him.
Just as rumored, Rakeesh Pride and rude, looking down at the two Night Elf leaders. "You are Malfurion and Tyrande. I've heard you've become Saviors, but I think you're nothing special. If I, Rakeesh, were here, this mere Horde would have been wiped out long ago. Your title of Savior is an exaggeration; I suggest you change it."
This was extremely rude in front of so many guests, and it immediately aroused their resentment.
Malfurion, unperturbed, chuckled and said:
"We, Darnassus and Exodar, are neighbors and Alliance, and have always been very close allies. Prophet Velen has long told us that he has a remarkable son and asked us to take good care of him in the future. Haha, Prophet, you worry too much. How can we, as elders, not look after the younger generation?"
"Elder?"
Rakeesh was furious upon hearing this, his eyes gleaming with malice. Although Malfurion and Tyrande had both lived for over ten thousand years, Rakeesh was even older, having been there since the Draenei escaped from Argus Planet.
"Gentlemen, I am far older than you; I am your elder!" Rakeesh roared, his anger blazing. "Your Pride and disrespect will surely incur the wrath of the Draenei."