"Achoo!"
In a pitch-black cave, a woman covered her nose and mouth as she stifled a sneeze. Her face was smeared with soot, and her beautiful silk mage robes were now filthy. She looked little different from a refugee during the Orc wars.
She was none other than the Lady Jaina Proudmoore everyone had been talking about, the Little Princess of Kul Tiras.
It was just that she seemed to have changed classes to a rogue. One end of the Sapphire Staff in her hand emitted a faint glow, maintaining a special invisibility barrier. That was what had allowed her to escape from her cell.
Don't ask how a mage knew how to pick locks and sneak around. She was Deathstroke's student. What she had learned from Master Antonidas was certainly excellent, but in actual combat, the things she had learned from the Sorcerer Supreme were more useful.
Earlier that day, she had been studying in Karazhan alongside her senior brother Khadgar. The one teaching them was Nielas Aran, the ghost mage who always called himself an "old dog."
That ghost mage was a little unhinged, but he was Master Medivh's father, a Great Mage, and a member of the Council of Tirisfal. During his lifetime, his seniority had even surpassed Antonidas's. Teaching the two of them a few things was effortless for him.
But everything had happened too quickly. By the time she heard the wind howling beside her ear, it was already too late. One moment, Jaina had been sipping black tea in the library; the next, a pale, wrinkled hand had seized her in its palm. Then, in the following instant, she had been flung out of Karazhan and straight into the sky.
At the time, she saw the heavens split open. Countless enormous hands surrounded her,