Morning sunlight streamed through the crystal window lattice, spilling across the magnificent yet cold halls of Alysande's estate.
Thalyssra had not slept all night. Her eyes were bloodshot, but her back remained perfectly straight. She tightly gripped a bottle of concentrated Mana Wine, the purest essence of magic Suramar could currently provide. She needed it to remain alert and composed for the negotiations that would decide Suramar's fate.
Pulling out the stopper, she drained the shimmering dark-violet liquid in one gulp. A familiar warm current of magic instantly flowed through her limbs and body, dispelling her physical exhaustion and mental haze. Even the faint agitation born of mana hunger subsided. In that brief sense of fullness, her thoughts became exceptionally clear.
Power was already in her hands, yet it now felt more like a red-hot branding iron. Alysande's hardliners had failed in their performance and conveniently dumped this mess onto her.
The elders' differences could not be reconciled, while the wails of the Withered outside the city and the growing panic within it lashed at her like whips. She had no more time to hesitate.
After composing herself, Thalyssra went alone once more to the courtyard of the estate where Deren's group was staying.
Contrary to her expectation that they might still be resting, Deren was leisurely seated on a stone bench in the courtyard, watching Azshara and Onyxia seemingly engage in some silent battle of stares. Everyone else was occupied with their own business, as though this were not an alien city fraught with danger, but their own backyard. They truly looked as if they were on vacation.
"Good morning, Lady Thalyssra," Deren greeted her first, his tone calm, as though he had long expected her arrival.
Azshara also stopped her "contest" with the Black Dragon. She first conveyed