Night had fallen, and cool breezes blew steadily.
Bright light rose within the mansion, which had already grown dark. Flames flickered, driving back the surrounding shadows. Sitting in the front hall, Rex dried his wet hair with a towel, but his eyes were unfocused as he quietly pondered something.
"Your Highness!" a gentle voice called.
A white-haired old man in loose mage robes approached, bowed, and offered his greeting.
"Sit down." Rex gestured for the visitor to take a seat. The Archmage looked full of vigor, which said a great deal: nothing had gone wrong here in Lordaeron. Still, Rex dared not take the matter lightly and began recounting what he had learned from Medivh about the Twisting Nether.
As Rex spoke, the Archmage's brow began to furrow. His eyes, filled with wisdom that seemed to see through everything in the world, revealed surprise and uncertainty.
Once Rex had explained every issue, the front hall fell silent. Neither Rex nor the Archmage spoke, and stillness filled the room.
Rex picked up the cup of tea beside him and waited quietly, tasting its bitterness.
Time passed little by little. A white line appeared in the night sky, gradually brightening as it began to contest the darkness for dominion over the heavens.
"The Twisting Nether I discovered is different from the one he found." After several hours of silence, the Archmage finally spoke again, his voice slightly hoarse. His earlier vigor had vanished, replaced by fatigue he could not conceal. Wrestling with a single problem for hours on end had taken a heavy mental toll.
"Not the same place..." Resting his forehead against his right hand, Rex parted his lips and murmured to himself. Deep confusion filled his eyes. He understood what the Archmage meant, but could they really be different places?