"What? The Night Elf race have been misled by Arthas? There's something wrong with those armors and weapons?"
In his dream, Magni Bronzebeard received a revelation from the Moon Goddess.
At Mount Hyjal, the Night Elves have all changed their equipment and gained the upper hand in the battle against the Burning Legion. Magni had already received the news, and the appearance of such powerful equipment in large quantities has attracted attention from all sides.
Magni had many guesses about the origin of these armors, the most likely answer being the Scourge.
"You must warn the Night Elf race, Magni, Azeroth awaits your salvation."
A horrifying scene unfolded before Magni: countless Night Elf race were battling on the land against the Burning Legion. Although the Legion's soldiers fought bravely, the Night Elves, with their superior equipment, were gradually expanding their gains.
Just as the Night Elves were about to win, suddenly, a dark and ominous aura emanated from the armor, coiling around the Night Elves ' bodies like a venomous snake.
The Night Elves wailed and struggled in agony, but they could not remove their cursed armor. The armor fused with their flesh, and finally, they stopped struggling, their eyes glazed over, and they became walking corpses.
Magni awoke from a nightmare to a sky full of stars. It was still the dead of night. The Eastern Kingdoms and Kalimdor were in different time zones, and Mount Hyjal was in the middle of the day, a time when the Night Elves were resting.
It seems Elune, was very anxious, which is why Magni woke up early. He dared not delay and hurriedly entered the secret chamber, picked up the Dream-Making Hammer, and aimed it at the Azeroth Orrery, in the direction of Mount Hyjal.
In her dream, Tyrande found herself standing at the foot of the World Tree. She saw a clear human face emerging from the trees, its expression pained, its mouth barely open as if it wanted to say something.
"Come to me quickly, the Night Elves are facing a life-or-death crisis!"
The face struggled to speak, Tyrande awoke from her dream. After reflecting on it carefully, she felt that this dream was very unusual, perhaps representing some kind of revelation.
Just as she was about to discuss it with Malfurion sat up and exclaimed in surprise, "Tyrande, I had a dream."
The exact same dream made Tyrande gasp.
The next morning, the generals of Mount Hyjal and the council of elders arrived at the door, all of them having the exact same dream.
Tyrande and Malfurion became increasingly certain that this must be some kind of inspiration.
"Does anyone know what Nordrassil's face represents?" Tyrande asked.
An elder who studied the World Tree replied:
"Somewhere at the roots of the World Tree Nordrassil, there grows a burl that resembles a human face. It is said that when the moonlight is at its brightest, this face occasionally utters prophecies, which are said to come from the Elune. I am certain that the face in my dream is this burl."
Tyrande immediately stood up, waved her hand, and said, "Take us there right away."
At the base of Nordrassil, before a gigantic, human-faced tree burl, the Night Elf generals and the elders of Mount Hyjal, led by Tyrande and Malfurion, gazed at the sky, awaiting the appearance of moonlight.
Finally, the moon rose, shining brightly, and a radiant glow appeared on the surface of the burl.
The ancient, mottled bark resembled the aged skin of an old man. A human face stood there, eyes tightly shut, lips moving intermittently, and a faint, eerie voice drifted out:
"The Dark Prince casts out a magnificent bait, concealing a sinister curse; the Guardians of the forest rise from the Battlefield, they are dead, yet they live on."
It was a very obvious prophecy, requiring no explanation, and everyone present turned pale with shock.
The Dark Prince must refer to Arthas.
The Guardians of the forest must be the Night Elf race.
But did these high-level suits of armor really originate from Arthas?
The Night Elf generals and elders all looked towards Tyrande.
"A very strange prophecy, completely inexplicable, it just doesn't make any sense!"
Tyrande knew perfectly well that with the Scourge's strength, if they really wanted to deal with the Night Elf race, they wouldn't need such complicated schemes and tricks.
In fact, the Scourge can do nothing but watch the Night Elves be defeated by the Burning Legion.
However, not everyone is so rational. Like all living beings, the Night Elves harbor deep suspicion, especially since they have unwavering faith in the Night Elf Elune, a belief that has lasted for ten thousand years.
Tyrande frowned deeply; she knew this was a golden opportunity to turn the tide. She straightened her face and said seriously:
"I received a vague revelation from the Moon Goddess that these armors likely came from the Scourge. I suspect that some of my people who disappeared at Mount Hyjal fell into the hands of the Scourge."
"Oh my god, our people have been captured by the Scourge!" the Night Elf exclaimed in alarm.
Night Elves revere nature and life, and are inherently opposed to the Scourge, who wield the Power of Death.
"But are there really problems with these armors and weapons?" A general carefully examined his weapons and then scrutinized his armor. Apart from the dense magical energy, there was nothing unusual about them.
Malfurion shook his head and said solemnly, "The Scourge wields the Power of Death; they are the enemy of life. They are cunning and treacherous; how could they possibly let us see through their schemes?"
Although it was a prophecy from the Moon Goddess, some people still couldn't bear to part with their armor and weapons.
"That's right, this is the Scourge's scheme."
A tall figure approached, his strong hooves clattering – it was Cenarius.
Cenarius's eyes widened, and he roared:
"My people, you have all been deceived. Those Vrykul are not living people at all; they are Undead from Northrend. I am a very good friend of God-King Skovald of Howling Fjord, and he told me that there is no such Vrykul tribe in Howling Fjord."
"By the Elune, Undead have infiltrated our fortress!"
Tyrande sighed, clasped her hands in a gesture of reverence, and said, "It's all my fault. I was misled by the Scourge's equipment and lost my vigilance, almost harming my people."
For ten thousand years, Tyrande has rarely admitted her mistakes. Even after the tragedy at Mount Hyjal, Tyrande has never publicly admitted that she was wrong.
"Tyrande, it's not your fault. It's all the Scourge's fault for being too cunning," Malfurion comforted her, his eyes full of tenderness, though his mind was on the human girl with the radiant blonde hair.
The elders of Mount Hyjal are all supporting Tyrande. Although the Night Elf generals have their doubts, the revelation of the Moon Goddess is right before their eyes, and daring to oppose the Moon Goddess's prophecy requires extraordinary courage.
Cenarius said in a cold voice, "What are you waiting for? To wait for the curse within the armor to take effect? Quickly take off these armors and destroy them."
Inside the Night Elf fortress, a roaring campfire was lit, fueled by a special mixture.
The Dark Knights, in neat rows, reluctantly removed their armor and weapons, throwing them into the flames to burn. The advanced cannons and Catapults were also among those destroyed.
Tyrande kept reassuring her soldiers, shouting loudly:
"We, the Night Elf race, stand at the pinnacle of the world not because of armor and weapons, nor because of magic, but because of our unwavering faith and indomitable determination. As long as our confidence remains, as long as our faith in the Elune endures, we are Invincible, and ultimate victory will surely belong to the Night Elf race."