The High Elves Departed

Tyrande forcibly suppressed the grief and indignation in her heart, took a deep breath, and tried once more to salvage the situation on the verge of collapse. She looked at her husband, her voice trembling slightly with emotion even as she struggled to remain calm:

"Malfurion, Cenarius, I beg you to reconsider! Yes, the Druid army and your power are incomparably mighty, more than enough to crush the Orcs. But the purpose of war is not merely victory; it is also to minimize the sacrifices of our Night Elf people! Queen Azshara's Naga are harassing Orgrimmar's coast, while the High Elf mages have helped us stabilize the defenses. Their strength is real! Why can't we set aside our past grievances for now and face the enemy before us together? Once the war is over, then..."

"There is no 'once the war is over'!" Malfurion cut her off decisively. His gaze was cold and stubborn, like an ancient tree unchanged for ten thousand years. "Keeping company with evil only nourishes new evil! Tyrande, their power has blinded you. We do not need to rely on such dangerous and unclean forces to win! The Cenarion Circle and the demigods of the forest have enough strength to cleanse every inch of Ashenvale!"

Cenarius stepped forward, his hooves striking heavily against the ground with the majesty of nature. His deep voice echoed through the air, filled with unquestionable authority. "Azshara's sins can never be forgiven. Her very existence is an insult to the countless souls who perished in the War of the Ancients. Her power comes from the dark depths of the sea and ancient betrayal; in essence, it is no different from the corruption of the Burning Legion. The Night Elves' victory must be built upon the pure path of nature, not upon