Sentinel Unit

One week later, in the morning, Tyrande stood silently in the square before the Temple of Elune, facing the rising sun for a long time.

"High Priestess, Andy is here!" a priestess under her command interrupted Tyrande's contemplation.

Tyrande nodded, yet her gaze remained fixed on the sun.

Andy had received notification from Tyrande the previous day that they would be leaving Darnassus today for the Sentinel Unit's main camp in Ashenvale. The letter confirming Tyrande's personal arrival had also been delivered three days prior.

Andy was dressed in his usual attire, a somewhat worn long robe draped over his frame, with the black Eaglehorn Bow slung across his back. Ever since Andy had awakened the bow, the entire weapon had been suffused with a dark, ominous sheen, the bowstring included. His quiver was packed full of arrows, roughly fifty in total, all of which Andy had crafted himself over the past few days.

As Andy approached, the beautiful High Priestess asked softly, "Andy, is this morning sun beautiful?"

Andy was taken aback, then nodded.

"Perhaps we won't be able to see it for much longer," Tyrande chuckled lightly. "Very well, it is time for us to depart."

Andy glanced at Tyrande; she seemed different today, though he couldn't tell if it was simply because they were leaving Darnassus.

Tyrande had shed her priestess robes today, opting for a suit of soft leather armor worn beneath a white, form-fitting tunic, giving her a more valiant and spirited appearance than usual.

"High Priestess!" One of Tyrande's guards stepped forward, presenting a long silver bow with both hands. The ends of the bow were adorned with feather-like decorations, and the silver string shimmered with a cold light.

Tyrande took the weapon she had sealed away for years and solemnly slung it over her shoulder. Once upon a time, this Silverwing Bow had accompanied her through countless battles, serving as her most intimate companion. Now, it shone in tandem with the dark, ominous glow of Andy's Eaglehorn Bow.

Two crisp bird cries rang out above Andy's head. He looked up to see two hippogryphs—one azure, one white—descending slowly.

The hippogryphs' massive, sharp talons gripped the ground firmly as they shook the feathers on their necks vigorously.

"Let's go, Andy," Tyrande called out, leaping onto the white hippogryph. This was her personal mount, the only one of its kind in the entire Elf Race.

Just as Andy climbed onto the back of the other hippogryph, he saw Hilar waving from a distance, running toward them at full speed.

"High Priestess, I want to go too!" Hilar stood before Tyrande, panting as she spoke.

Tyrande hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "Then sit in front and take Andy with you!"

Hilar agreed joyfully, hopped onto the hippogryph, and sat in front of Andy.

Andy shifted backward, and once Hilar was settled, he whispered, "Why did you come? You know what we're going there for!"

Andy had never dared to tell her that he was following Tyrande to Ashenvale. Once the Orcs broke through the barrier of the Endless Sea and set foot on the lands of Kalimdor, that place would become the front line of the war—a place likely to be littered with corpses and scorched earth. Those who remained in Darnassus still had a buffer; whether they chose to fight or flee, they had options.

"Of course I know! It's not just the grunts in the Sentinel Unit who protect our race!" Hilar retorted defiantly. "Besides, if you can go, why can't I? Don't forget, you once wet your pants when I transformed into my leopard form!"

Andy's face flushed red, and he complained, "Can you not bring that up? I was just a child back then!"

"We depart!" Tyrande called out, patting the hippogryph beneath her. Her mount was already sentient, sharing a mental link with its master, and had become a god-tier steed.

The white hippogryph let out a shrill cry and surged toward the sky. The hippogryph carrying Andy and Hilar flapped its wings and followed closely behind.

Tyrande's Moon Guard did not accompany them; they were still responsible for helping to defend Darnassus. Malfurion had not yet awakened. Tyrande did not know what was wrong, but it was highly abnormal; no elf had ever spent more than a week in the Emerald Dream.

Just last night, Tyrande had summoned Fandral, Malfurion's deputy, and explained everything to him. Tyrande was set to depart, but she was uneasy about Darnassus, so she entrusted the task of guarding the city and the sleeping Malfurion to him before she left.

Andy watched quietly from the side. When Fandral accepted the duty, Andy's mouth twitched, but he ultimately said nothing. Darnassus could not be left without leadership; he could only do his best to ensure nothing else went wrong.

The two hippogryphs flew vigorously against the strong high-altitude winds. Tyrande released an owl—a scout and her combat partner—to lead the way.

Andy's black hair had grown a bit long, trailing behind him in the wind as he prayed that the Orcs would not reach the shore so quickly.

After finishing his lunch, Andona stood early on the camp's training grounds, awaiting his former leader and the current spiritual guide of the elves, Tyrande. Although he knew Tyrande's party would not arrive this quickly, he waited out of respect for her.

Andona surveyed the two rows of guards behind him; their armor was polished, their weapons sharp. Every elf warrior was in high spirits, and the senior officers of the unit stood behind him.

Andona, the commander of the elven guardians and the head of the Sentinel Unit, remained as vigorous as ever.

Andy's journey went very smoothly. After flying for six full hours, they entered the airspace above the Sentinel Unit's camp. The two hippogryphs flapped their wings and landed steadily on the open ground of the training field.

"High Priestess!" Everyone on the field knelt on one knee, hands over their hearts, to welcome Tyrande.

"May the Moon Goddess be with you," Tyrande replied, crossing her hands over her chest in return.

Andona stood up, stepped to the side, and gestured for her to proceed. Tyrande smiled, walked past the guards, and headed toward the tree-shaped fortress in the distance.

Andy followed behind Tyrande, scanning the camp of this famous unit. The atmosphere was stern and disciplined, and the tree-shaped fortress in the distance only added to the solemnity.

"Andona, has Larsen returned yet?" Tyrande sat in the commander's chair, with Andy standing to one side and Hilar to the other.

"High Priestess, he has not returned yet," Andona replied, standing up. "However, I have already sent men to look for him."

Tyrande nodded; she trusted Andona deeply. He was a typical military talent—capable in command and reliable in his duties.

"When he returned from Darnassus, did he report anything about the Orcs?" Andy interjected from the side.

Andy's interruption caused Andona to frown. He had noticed Andy and Hilar from the start, but in his eyes, these two young people were merely guards accompanying Tyrande.

Andona frowned and pondered for a moment, looking at Tyrande. He assumed that if they were her guards, Tyrande would have reacted to such an interruption.

To his surprise, Tyrande acted as if it were perfectly natural, showing no reaction at all. If they weren't guards, then who was he, to be so informal in front of the High Priestess?

Andona looked at Tyrande again, who was watching him quietly, seemingly waiting for his answer.

After a brief hesitation, Andona said, "High Priestess, Larsen did not report anything about those beasts upon his return. Oh, right, you call them Orcs!"

Tyrande chuckled lightly. Hearing the heavy emphasis Andona placed on the title "High Priestess," she tilted her head and exchanged a look with Andy; it seemed Andona was overthinking things.