In January, Dalaran was cold. Chilly air poured down from the peaks of the Alterac Mountains, completely driving away the warm winds from the South Seas. Nature's hand brushed across Lake Lordamere, and white, milky mist spread thick and damp over the lake's surface. The city of Dalaran appeared and vanished amid the lake's waves and mist, like a fairyland.
Shane opened his eyes and instinctively extended his senses, perceiving the area around him as clearly as a full moon. Large drops of dew slid down the windowpane, and every detail of their rolling motion was reflected in his mind. Downstairs, the apprentices had prepared breakfast and were waiting for him to get up.
A ripple of magic came from the doorway. He recognized the familiar sensation without even needing to sense it—Kallinda had cast Flame Tongue.
Shane got up, washed, and went downstairs for breakfast. Just then, the girl clapped her hands and entered the room.
"Mentor, I burned more than ten invitations today." It was Kallinda's turn to help her mentor tend to the house, and clearing out the mailbox by the door was part of her duties. Ever since that strange falling-out, more and more people had invited her mentor to salons and gatherings. Every time she cleaned the mailbox, she found over a dozen letters. She felt the senders were truly persistent. No matter how many times they were rejected, the invitations came like a tide and never ceased.
Kel'Thuzad's falling-out with Shane had seemed perfectly natural to countless people. Dalaran's mages truly could not tolerate an outsider. Yet after celebrating, they either became crazed with obsession or sank into deep regret. Countless sources indicated that Shane had witnessed the advancement process, while they had neither foreseen it nor been given the chance.
That was the