The flames of the destructive Fire Elementals circled in a steady pattern, like a massive vortex drawing in the fire elements around them. The fiery clouds absorbed elemental energy from the world around them, and every pulse was infused with the power of wind, thunder, and flame.
Jaina's right hand seemed to be holding up an incredibly heavy object as she slowly shifted her staff, guiding the fiery clouds taking shape in the sky. With her left hand, she steadily channeled elemental energy into the staff with all her might. More and more surging magic poured into the clouds, setting them slowly in motion. They sped up until they were flying straight toward the dark clouds that were raining down icicles.
The girl had not chosen to attack the enemy fleet. Instead, under the expectant gaze of everyone present, she ordered the swiftly moving fiery clouds to hurtle into the dark clouds with unmatched force.
Frost and flame, two forces at opposite extremes, collided in an instant. A powerful surge of magic burst outward, and the howling wind swept away everything nearby. The balls of fire and the icicles vanished completely, and the clear blue sky appeared before everyone once more.
"Long live Jaina!"
"Long live the Proudmoores!"
"Long live Kul Tiras!"
"..."
In an instant, cheers filled the air above the Mist of the Maiden. Everyone, from the captain to the sailors, was jubilant, their spirits lifted.
The obstacles in their path had been cleared, and the Mist of the Maiden was now less than a mile from the enemy ships. They only needed to push a little harder and break through the blockade. Boralus Harbor was within reach.
But one person aboard the ship shook his head with a bitter smile.
An icicle as thick as an arm had pierced Monk Morton's left shoulder, and the blood running from it had stained half his arm red. A Tidesage could use the power of flowing water to heal such an external wound, but in his severely injured state, Morton likely couldn't maintain the Water Elemental that was holding up the Mist of the Maiden.
Standing beside Monk Morton, Jaina immediately noticed something was wrong. She hurried to turn and use the power of frost to seal the bleeding wound.
As soon as Monk Morton was injured, the Mist of the Maiden, which had been speeding along like a bird in flight, abruptly jolted and plunged into the sea. Its speed immediately dropped.
At the same time, a dark cloud filled with freezing air began to gather above the enemy ships once more. It was forming slowly but growing steadily. The warning was unmistakable: the enemy mages had recovered and were preparing their second attack.
The Mist of the Maiden had lost speed, Monk Morton was severely wounded, Jaina had exhausted her magic, and the enemy's next attack was imminent. The battle, which had been going in their favor, had suddenly taken a sharp turn. Everyone's spirits plummeted.
Jaina's once-pale face had lost every trace of color. The girl had never faced such a desperate situation, and now she was completely at a loss. The sudden reversal left her directionless, and even the magic she had been struggling to channel dried up.
"Does war really have to end in slaughter? Is peace truly so hard to achieve?"
The girl sighed, regretting her choice. What would have happened if she had cast Flamestrike at the enemy flagship? Jaina couldn't imagine. She had already drained all her magic by forcing herself to cast that spell, and now all she could feel was wave after wave of dizziness. Her frail body involuntarily began to topple backward.
Jaina tried to reach out and grab something to steady herself, but her hand grasped at nothing. Sighing at her helplessness, the girl's vision went dark, and she fell.
But the hard deck she expected to strike never hit her slender back. Jaina could clearly feel a broad hand supporting her waist and back, giving her enough strength to steady herself and preventing her from falling in front of everyone.
"Winning the war is the only way to achieve peace! Want peace? Then just keep winning!"
A voice reached the girl's ears. It was so familiar, as if she had heard it just a few days ago, yet it also seemed so strange, so distant it could have come from the horizon.
The person who had appeared was, of course, Liam. The prince had watched most of the excitement unfold, and figured that if he didn't step in now, he might lose his life here. In his memories, Jaina had survived just fine—but then, in those memories, there hadn't been a stowaway like him on this voyage.
Liam had realized something was wrong as soon as the enemy mage made his move. He immediately slipped back into the cabin and found Coral, who had been "confined."
"No! No!"
"I'll give you ten more acorns!"
"No, it hurts too much! No!"
In the cabin, Liam and Coral were haggling frantically. But Coral had clearly grown irritable from being confined. After days without being able to speak, she couldn't care less about the terms Liam offered.
"Then what do you want? Should I find you a few pretty female parrots?"
Coral's bright black eyes rolled around, and she seemed tempted. But in the end, she still refused. She gave Liam a sly look. "I want figs!"
The moment he heard "figs," Liam felt a headache coming on.
They were a rare dried fruit that grew on the continent of Kalimdor, found only in Night Elf territory. Every year, only a few bold souls managed to smuggle a small amount out. Liam had no idea where Coral had heard of them, but she'd been fixated on them ever since.
But there was no helping it. He was at her mercy, so Liam could only grit his teeth and sign the unfair deal.
"Fine! Figs it is. Once we've taken care of things here in Kul Tiras, I'll take you to steal—gather some. Happy now?"
"And pretty female parrots!" Coral added.
"..." Liam felt he had nothing left to say to this stupid bird.
After settling things with Coral, Liam turned his attention to Wilton, who had been watching the excitement.
"There's a small island south of Boralus. There's a place on it called Stormsong Monastery. First, go there disguised as an apprentice and see if you can find any promising candidates. The Tidesages' faith is too strong; we won't be able to lure them away. We'll have to start with the apprentices and novices. You'll have to figure out the details yourself."
Listening to Liam talk as if he were giving his last words, Wilton was once again speechless. He blurted out, "Where are you going?"
As soon as he said it, he froze. He seemed to have asked this question countless times already—and now it looked like he'd have to keep asking it in the future, too...
"Coral and I are going to deal with the enemy fleet, so there's no avoiding exposing my identity. To cover for you and let you do your job properly, I can only go and draw the pursuers' attention away myself, even if it's a bit of a burden."
Liam shrugged, looking aggrieved. Wilton found the sight deeply irritating.
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