Ashen Throne

Thrall stood on the shore of the Echo Isles, the salty sea breeze brushing against his weathered face.

Cairne Bloodhoof sat on a boulder as Shaman treated his wounds.

Vol'jin leaned to one side, his narrow eyes slightly narrowed, silently gazing into the distance.

"Old friend..." Thrall's voice was low and heavy, "It's all my fault."

Cairne lifted his heavy eyelids, his weathered bull-like eyes fixed on Thrall, not with blame, but with deep weariness. "You shouldn't blame yourself, Thrall. Nobody expected Garrosh to turn out this way."

Vol'jin scoffed, "I warned you long ago that your inaction would eventually destroy the Horde."

Thrall didn't refute, but simply gripped the handle of the Doomhammer: "I thought... I could trust him. I thought he inherited his father's glory."

"Grom was a hero, but his son inherited only anger, not wisdom," Cairne sighed. "It's too late to say this now; the Horde is already divided."

Thrall took a deep breath, his gaze hardening. "No, it's not over yet. I will correct this mistake. I will reunite the Horde."

Vol'jin stared at him, remained silent for a moment, and finally nodded slowly. "The Troll will support you, Thrall. But my people... will no longer easily believe the promises of the orcs."

Cairne also struggled to his feet. "The Tauren too. We're willing to go back to Orgrimmar with you, but most of our people will return to Thunder Bluff first, waiting for the situation to stabilize."

Thrall's heart sank, but he understood their concerns.

Orgrimmar has just suffered a devastating explosion, and Garrosh's remnants are still lurking in the shadows.

Cairne and Vol'jin's willingness to bring their personal guards back with him was already the greatest sign of their trust.

"I understand." He finally nodded. "The rebuilding of the Horde will take time, and I will prove that the orcs are worthy of your trust."

When Thrall, Cairne, and Vol'jin, with a small number of personal guards, stepped into the ruins of Orgrimmar, the sight before them made Thrall's heart clench.

The city he built with his own hands is now unrecognizable.

The Eye of the Storm explosion destroyed half the city, leaving only ruins and charred rubble scattered across the streets.

The body of the hanged Tauren "traitor" still lies in the square.

Many homeless survivors huddled in makeshift tents, their eyes filled with fear and despair.

Thrall's hand trembled slightly, Doomhammer almost slipped from his grasp.

"Garrosh..." he hissed, his voice filled with suppressed rage.

Cairne patted him on the shoulder without saying a word.

Vol'jin looked around and said coldly, "This city is dead, Thrall. Are you sure you can rebuild it?"

Thrall closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, a resolute flame burned in them. "We must rebuild. Not just for the orcs, but for the entire Horde."

He then visited the center of the explosion.

Thrall trembled as he looked at the scene before him. Flame Ridge was gone, leaving only this terrifying giant crater.

"What happened?" Thrall demanded of Garrosh behind him. "You've made a mess of things."

Now that it's just the two of them around, they can speak more freely.

Garrosh was equally frustrated. "I don't know either. I did exactly what those evil mages asked of me from beginning to end. I sent Kor'kron to steal the Dragon Race ' treasures, then handed them over to the evil mages and goblins. And I sent people to protect their workshops."

"Did anything strange happen during this time?" Thrall, seeing things had come to this point, only wanted to get to the bottom of the incident. "Did Theramore and Jaina get involved?"

"Although there's no evidence, Theramore should know the truth. Only they have the motive." Garrosh, though a bit reckless, wasn't brainless. His perceived enemy had always been Theramore.

"A few nights before the explosion, a mage reported detecting fluctuations in the air caused by detection spells."

Just moments before the massive explosion, strange flames were witnessed appearing in the night sky, rushing straight down towards the Flame Ridge Rift. A small explosion followed, but this then triggered the secondary explosion of the treasure.

"So it's all just speculation without any evidence?" Thrall asked coldly.

Although Garrosh was a few years older than Thrall, he still spoke cautiously in front of the orc leader who had single-handedly created the Horde: "Besides Theramore, I can't think of anyone else who would raid Orgrimmar."

Thrall sighed, "That's the troublesome part. We have no evidence, and despite our heavy losses, we can't find anyone to take revenge on."

Garrosh remained silent. Thrall paced back and forth several times before speaking to Garrosh:

"You should lay low for a while; I'll lock you up for a bit. As for Theramore, I'll try to find a way to probe the situation. If things go wrong, I'll also take responsibility. I'll report back to the Ancestor's Spirit. That's all!"

With a wave of his hand, two Frostwolf Clan guards came forward and took Garrosh away.

Thrall stood alone in front of the crater, speechless for a long time.

After a long silence, he murmured:

"How did things turn out like this? Theramore is completely fine, but Orgrimmar is half-buried. Ancestor's Spirit, the Timeline feels alien."

An invisible wind blew past Thrall, seemingly carrying faint whispers from afar.

The Great Chieftain nodded. "Understood, I know what to do."

In the days that followed, Thrall personally visited every camp, comforting the refugees, distributing food, and boosting morale.

He took Cairne and Vol'jin with him every day, demonstrating the unity of the Horde to everyone.

Even so, the rift between orcs and other races remains clearly visible.

Trade Prince Gallywix, the goblin trader, arrived with his engineering team, rubbing his hands together and laughing:

"Great Chieftain, rebuilding Orgrimmar is a huge undertaking, requiring a lot of gold..."

Thrall frowned. "The Horde doesn't have that much money right now."

"It's alright!" Gallywix grinned.

"We can... pay in installments, but of course, the interest rate will be higher."

Thrall knew the goblins' greed, but at this moment he had no choice. He could only nod.

"Let's get started. As for the money... I'll figure something out."

However, even more challenging problems followed.

One evening, an uninvited guest barged into Thrall's Great Chieftain's tent, bringing with him an orc.

The guards launched an attack on the High Elf- like figure.

But the elf simply waved his hand, and the orcs all collapsed to the ground.

"Stop!" Seeing the chaos outside and his men lying on the ground, Thrall immediately rushed out to stop the soldiers from launching a futile attack.

He stood at the very front of the crowd, facing this mysterious and unfamiliar elf, and loudly questioned:

"Who are you? Why did you kill so many innocent soldiers? If you have a problem, come at me. I am Great Chieftain Thrall."

The High Elf finally noticed Thrall's presence and released the orc he was holding.

Then he cast a spell, and the orcs who had been lying unconscious on the ground regained consciousness, though they were still limp and powerless.

The High Elf said, "I am Malygos, the Blue Dragon King; perhaps you have heard of me. I have come to reclaim the Eye of the Storm, an artifact preserved by my people. It was stolen by you orcs. Now, so much time has passed, I must retrieve this artifact."

Thrall raised his head to face the enraged Aspect Dragons:

"Malygos, the Eye of the Storm should still be beneath the soil at the epicenter of the explosion."

"Lies!" Malygos's eyes burned with cold fury.

"I've already checked the crater in the city center, but I didn't find the artifact there. Where did you hide it?"

Thrall gritted his teeth. "I just got back here. It turns out Garrosh orchestrated this operation, but he claims he doesn't know the artifact's whereabouts."

Malygos roared, his Dragon Awe's might causing the surrounding orcs to nearly kneel:

You must give me an answer, or I'll have no choice but to completely destroy this city!

Thrall stood there, his fists clenched so tightly they cracked, and after a long while, he lowered his head and said:

"We suspect that Jaina of Theramore stole the artifact. You can go there and check. Maybe she's still hiding your artifact."

Left with no other option, in order to appease the Dragon King who was about to go berserk, Thrall had to bring up Garrosh's speculation to divert Malygos's attention.

"I hope you're right, otherwise you'll face the wrath of a Dragon King."

Having found nothing in the orc cities and being restricted from causing trouble for the orcs, Malygos had no choice but to try his luck in Theramore.

After the Dragon King disappeared, Thrall summoned Vol'jin:

"I'm planning to go to Theramore, partly to explain to Jaina why the Dragon King came to my door asking for the artifact. After all, I had no other choice but to find a reason to lure the Dragon King away."

On the other hand, I also hope to restore friendly relations with Theramore and allow orcs to return to working there. Rebuilding Orgrimmar requires a large sum of money. In the meantime, would you be willing to temporarily manage the affairs of the Horde for me?

The old Troll knew, of course, that Thrall was trying to curry favor, but the Horde could no longer afford to split.

So Vol'jin nodded. "Don't worry, old friend. Focus on building a good relationship with Theramore. Let bygones be bygones. I'm here; you can rest assured."

Thrall was pleased with Vol'jin's attitude. He then began contacting the goblins to prepare a fast boat for their journey to Theramore.

First update.