"But Velen, the power you wield isn't your own, either."
Kil'jaeden narrowed his eyes and began chanting again.
Before long, wisps of white mist began rising from the corpses scattered throughout Shattrath. They were the souls of those who had fallen in battle.
But as soon as the souls emerged, a massive beam of Holy Light rose from the city and enveloped them, seeking to guide them to the afterlife.
When the Holy Light appeared, Kil'jaeden smiled and began chanting once more.
Iron chains wreathed in dark green flames appeared in the air, binding every soul wrapped in Holy Light.
The moment the dark green flames touched the Holy Light, wisps of smoke rose. The souls inside struggled ceaselessly, their twisted faces imprinted on the light as they tried to break free of its embrace.
The Holy Light rising from Shattrath sensed that it was being suppressed, but was powerless to do anything. It could only desperately resist the flames consuming the chains.
But as time passed, the Holy Light gradually began to falter, and the faces grew ever clearer.
"Kil'jaeden! Why are you harming your own people?"
Just as the Holy Light was about to be overwhelmed, an elderly Draenei with violet skin, dressed in fine robes and holding a wooden staff, rose from the city of Shattrath and called out to Kil'jaeden.
"Hahaha! Velen, you've finally shown yourself. How long has it been since we last met? A thousand years? Two thousand? Or ten thousand?"
Kil'jaeden looked thrilled.
"Do you have any idea how much effort I've gone to find you? Why did you betray the Eredar?"
Kil'jaeden no longer carried himself like the Deceiver. He seemed like a child abandoned by his family, demanding to know why his parents had left him behind.
"Kil'jaeden, you don't understand.