The Prophet Velen lived for at least 25,000 years. If he were an ordinary person, the experience and knowledge gained over such a long period of time would have made him a great sage.
However, Velen was no ordinary Draenei.
Velen's eyes gleamed slightly. He could see the situation clearly. If the Alliance did not send troops, the Orcs would suffer heavy losses, Horde would fall into disintegration.
However, Velen was even more aware that human nature, the allure of glory and fame, the desire to achieve great things, and his inner emotions were all binding the young King of Stormwind City.
"Your King," Velen said, feigning profundity, "The future holds countless possibilities. The Holy Light has always guided me forward; perhaps we should seek Holy Light help."
Velen carefully took out a purple crystal, a gift from the Naaru to the Eredar, the Song of Souls among the seven Ata'mal Crystals, which shone with a playful light as if it were alive.
The Song of Souls granted Velen the ability to glimpse the future, allowing him to see fragments of what lies ahead. On many occasions, Velen relied on this crystal to make his decisions.
Throughout countless ages, it was this crystal that allowed the Draenei to live a life of constant hiding and wandering throughout the universe, eventually being devoured by the Orcs.
Gazing at the crystal radiating purple light, Kites felt both surprised and delighted, though he was worried that the crystal might give a prophecy that contradicted his inner thoughts.
To rekindle his romance with Agna on the Frozen Throne was his most pressing desire.
"Your King, relax, don't think about anything, silently pray for the Holy Light."
Velen was adept at reading people and immediately saw through the King's thoughts.
As a prophet, the best choice is to provide the desired prophecy to those who seek it.
Not the truth.
The truth is often cruel and hard to accept. It goes against the wishes of those who make the claims, and those who make prophecies usually do not have a good ending. This is a lesson learned from countless bloody experiences.
Or rather, most people who seek prophecy don't really want guidance, but rather justify their own willful actions.
Kites tried to sit cross-legged like Velen, placing his hands on his knees, but he couldn't clear his mind.
The Song of Souls sensed Kites's turbulent heart. As if responding to his desires, countless rays of light shone and pulsated, gradually moving from initial chaos to order, forming clear images.
Countless visions of the future were crashing down on the two of them. The clever Velen selected the visions that aligned with the King's inner thoughts and presented them in Kites' mind.
Kites closed his eyes, and a throne built atop a mountain appeared clearly in his mind. The snow-covered peaks pierced the sky like Sharp Swords, with a massive wall below.
Although he had never been here before, he was certain that this must be the Frozen Throne.
The Frozen Throne was surrounded by corpses, countless limbs and remains piled up in layers. Kites desperately wanted to see the faces of the corpses and identify their races, but unfortunately, he couldn't see them clearly enough.
A broken Rune sword lay on the ground, several strange Runes flickering, sometimes bright and sometimes dim. Kites immediately guessed that this must be the famous Frostmourne.
Kites saw a young man lying on the ground, wearing thick black armor, with black skulls decorating his shoulders, waist, and knees, and his body covered in wounds.
The helmet rolled to the side, and the light in the eyes of the white-haired young man slowly faded. He murmured, "Father, all I see is darkness."
Then, Kites saw Tirion Fordring, holding the radiant Ashbringer, standing in the biting wind of the Frozen Throne, a satisfied smile on his lips, his face filled with pride, enveloped in golden Holy Light, like a great Deity.
Kites took a deep breath, snapping out of his chaotic illusions. After a difficult process of separating the illusion from reality, Velen asked, feigning curiosity:
"Your King, what did you see?"
Kites let out a long breath, a look of joy on his face, and said, "I saw Frostmourne shatter, Arthas fall atop the Frozen Throne, and Tirion Fordring be the ultimate victor."
Velen remained silent for a long time, as if digesting the prophecy. To avoid retribution from His Majesty the King, Velen employed the necessary procedures of a charlatan.
"King Majesty, the illusion you have witnessed is destined to happen, but what the eyes see is not necessarily the truth. Do not let illusions blind you, and please act with caution."
Overjoyed, Kites paid no heed to any of this, and simply said:
"Yes, yes, I know what to do. Thank you, Prophet Velen. You have brought hope to the Kingdom of Stormwind. You are a great benefactor to the Alliance."
Velen immediately rose to take his leave. He knew very well that he had once again saved the Orcs, even though the Orcs had nearly wiped out the Draenei.
Shortly after leaving, Velen heard Kites shouting and relaying a series of orders, preparing to convene a military meeting.
Velen shook his head, a bitter smile playing on his lips. The Night Watch King was ambitious and eager for glory; he was truly no blessing to the Alliance.
Unfortunately, Velen had no choice. He knew that no matter what prophecy he gave, he could not persuade an arrogant King. Then Velen saw Duke Bolvar.
The Duke, his Frost, held a sharp sword in his hand, glaring at Velen. His voice was low and menacing as he said, "Velen, they say you're Prophet. Did you foresee that an army would storm Azuremyst Isle, destroy Exodar, and slaughter all the Draenei?"
This was a blatant threat. Velen paused for a moment, then whispered, "Duke, you can't do it. We Draenei are the bravest race in the universe."
The Duke smiled slightly:
"Yes, I cannot and will not break the alliance with the Draenei, but all I need to do is win over the Night Elf race and secretly convey to the Horde that the Alliance will no longer provide protection for the Draenei. I think Thrall would be very willing to march on Azuremyst Isle, devour all the Draenei, crush your Naaru like trash, and turn you, the old Prophet, into a slave of the Orcs. You should know clearly, Prophet, that the brave Draenei are nothing but lambs to the slaughter in front of the Orcs."
Velen took a slight breath and asked, "What do you want, Duke?"
"A true prophecy!" Bolvar's eyes widened. "Your tricks can't fool me, Prophet. I, like you, know the Holy Light and can tell whether you're telling the truth or a lie."
Velen closed his eyes and sighed:
"I saw a new world. Night Elves lived happily in the forests, and humans built cities on the plains. They were not the Scourge, but real humans, yet they were different from the humans I knew. Their bodies were filled with magic. It was a peaceful and tranquil world."
"I saw it. Countless magical cities floated in the air. That world had the ability to protect itself, was extremely rich in resources, and its inhabitants pursued spiritual Transcendence rather than engaging in deceit and treachery. It was like the legendary Holy Light Heaven. To be honest, I was very envious."
Then, Velen revealed a resentful expression. "The Draenei also want to enter that world, to escape the vortex of war, but Arthas refused me."