The Stele of Time

"That was how, through the ranger general's arrow, Archdruid Malfurion Stormrage sealed the chief arcanist away in a corner of the Emerald Dream. A tiny acorn sprouted within his twisted body, bringing an end to the first half of Xavius's sinful life."

From his chance encounter with Cenarius, the Forest Lord, all the way to the earth-shattering Great Sundering.

As the Archdruid narrated, Sian had unknowingly finished two cups of tea.

It had to be said that Mr. Staghelm was an exceptionally gifted storyteller. Of course, perhaps it was also because, as someone who had personally lived through that catastrophe, he could offer far more details than the stories usually told by the high priestess.

The little fellow listened, utterly enthralled. Coupled with Fandral's vivid narration, his blood surged with excitement, as though he had truly experienced that legend himself—standing on the battlefield of ten thousand years ago and fighting shoulder to shoulder with those legendary heroes.

He eagerly fired off a string of questions. Were the bear gods Ursol and Ursoc truly as towering as mountains? Was Ashamane's fur as clear and black as the night sky? How many demons could the wolf god Goldrinn's claws tear apart at once? And where had the Dragon Soul ultimately ended up...

By the end, he had asked so many questions that even he felt embarrassed. Yet Fandral seemed quite pleased. The Archdruid appeared long accustomed to such scenes; he stroked his chin and laughed heartily before patiently answering Sian's questions one by one, making the little fellow feel that attending this banquet had been absolutely wonderful.

Oh, right—Mr. Staghelm had also mentioned Huln Highmountain, the legendary Tauren hero. He recounted the heroic deeds of this famed hunter during the War of the Ancients: how he had won the favor of the Wild Gods, and how he had carved a path through encircling demons with the gods' blessings.

His heroic figure, wielding the Eagle Spear and charging into battle alongside his moose companion to slay enemy commanders, had struck terror into countless demons of the Burning Legion.

When speaking of this noble and valiant legendary hunter, even the stern ranger general Shandris Feathermoon showed deep admiration. This made Sian long even more to hear of the Tauren hero's deeds, while also filling him with a heartfelt sense of pride.

After the laughter faded, the Archdruid's tale gradually grew heavy once more.

Fandral sighed. "The Great Sundering ended, but for the Nightmare, perhaps it was only the beginning."

"Perhaps it was the price of the Archdruid's excessive mercy..."

With the Archdruid's sigh, all the Night Elves present sighed as well, seemingly recalling the suffering they had endured.

"The war against the Nightmare had never truly ceased."

Sian held his breath. He was completely absorbed, and despite the many thrilling twists along the way, he grew tense as well. After all, anything involving the word war could not be good.

Cairne had been listening intently, nodding slightly from time to time. Hamuul had somehow found several scraps of rag and was sprawled across the table, using charcoal picked from the hearth to scribble and draw. He had gotten himself filthy, occasionally shaking his head as though deep in thought, drawing frowns from the elves beside him.

"No one knew when that sycophantic court steward began appearing in the nightmares of every Night Elf. Gradually, a title began to spread throughout the Nightmare."

"It was no rumor. The truth was soon proven."

Fandral paused. "Though he was still trapped deep within the Emerald Dream, he had indeed launched a massive war of Nightmare."

"Thus we learned that monster had been reborn once more. He had also given himself a new name."

"King... of the Nightmare!"

A young Night Elf knocked into a teacup in his agitation. Fortunately, it was made of wood and did not shatter, though clear spring water still spilled all over the floor.

That alone showed how shocking the subject was.

Fandral glanced at the clumsy young Night Elf and sighed before saying softly, "That war was fought with great difficulty. We paid dearly, and we also made some terrible mistakes..."

At this point, the Archdruid paused slightly. He knew that the history he had brought up was entangled with many painful memories for the Night Elves.

He quietly looked behind him. Sure enough, the young and beautiful Night Elf woman had gently raised an elbow to hide her face. Just as Fandral had expected, that dreadful memory remained a nightmare she could never cast aside.

Sian looked over at her worriedly, while the Archdruid's gaze flickered.

Elune, the wolf god Goldrinn, his mentor Malfurion, and so many vigorous young Druids...

Their youthful shadows had been silently engraved upon the stele of time, never to move forward again.

It was a tragedy born from an attempt to tame the wild. It involved countless people and things, as well as the birth of a supreme artifact. It was too complicated to judge simply as right or wrong.

Yet Fandral could understand the pain in the heart of the young priestess Belissa Starbreeze, because it was the same pain... the pain of losing loved ones.

Avel, the lifelong love of the Starbreeze priestess, had also become a casualty of that war.

To resist the Satyrs' invasion, they summoned wild wolf spirits. Yet they could not overcome the fury in their own hearts, and instead turned their claws upon their closest companions...

In the end, after the gifted young Druid Lylara Firefang was personally sealed within the Emerald Dream by the priestess, the Starbreeze priestess lost her last friend, following the loss of her beloved.

Fandral drew a deep breath and composed himself. He said solemnly, "Honored chieftain, please believe me: we have also felt the pain you have endured."

"This is the bitter fruit we planted. Whether it was Xavius, the Night Elf-born culprit, or our failure to stop matters from worsening beyond redemption, we bear an inescapable responsibility."

"This is the view of the entire Cenarion Circle, the Priests of the Moon, and every upright Night Elf."

The Archdruid rubbed his brow and said with difficulty, "We are here today to apologize, and to make whatever amends we can within our power."

Fandral looked toward Shandris. She nodded to him, took out an ancient scroll, handed it to Fandral, and then watched as he solemnly passed it to Cairne.

"This is a message from High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind, as well as our shared apology. It was written in the ancient Tauren tongue."

Fandral sighed. "I am deeply sorry. Priestess Whisperwind or the Archdruid should have come in person for this meeting, but troubling news from Silithus has detained her. The Archdruid is also in a long slumber. He bears the duty of safeguarding the Emerald Dream and can only speak with us through dreams, so this journey was entrusted to me, his disciple, and to Shandris, Priestess Whisperwind's daughter."

Cairne nodded. He solemnly accepted the scroll but did not open it. Instead, he gently placed it directly before himself.