Illidan was dead. Tirion had driven a longsword through his heart.
Tirion held his son's body, breathing heavily, his eyes blazing with fury.
But he quickly regained control of his emotions. Taking a deep breath, he tied his son's corpse to his horse, cast one long look at Light's Hope Chapel, then returned to Abendis's formation.
"I will rebuild the Silver Hand Knights. I will stop more tragedies like this, and I will wipe out every last Scourge on the lands of Lordaeron."
Tirion spoke to everyone in a calm yet resolute voice.
"We await that day, High Lord Fording," Bridget replied solemnly, then gave a salute. "Please accept our condolences. We failed to save Turalyon, we..."
Tirion waved his hand. "No, you have already done enough. I thank you for your help." With that, Tirion bowed to Bridget, the Dawn Knights captain, and Garona.
"Now please forgive my discourtesy. I must bury my son. We will meet again before long."
Tirion rode away with his son's body.
"With the strength of my army, I simply cannot take Light's Hope Chapel. Sigh..."
"Has something gone wrong with your army, General Abendis?" the Dawn Knights captain asked.
Bridget nodded. "We lack supplies, food, fresh water—everything essential. I had originally planned to come to Light's Hope Chapel to ask for provisions."
The Dawn Knights captain pondered for a moment. "Then why not build a city of your own? The Dawn Brotherhood is willing to help. Of course, we do not require you to change your faith; we simply respect your struggle on this land. Among the Scarlet Crusade, your force is now the only one that remains rational and has not stopped fighting."
"Build a town? Where?"
The Dawn Knights captain took out a map and pointed to the far eastern edge