Unusual Developments

"Could you tell me some clues about the Twelve Blades hidden in Orgrim?"

Nathanos chuckled, his explanation still somewhat vague, "He is different from everyone else, from beginning to end, he is different from everyone else."

Meryl shook her head, pondering how difficult it was to extract any other secrets from Nathanos. "Forget it, I won't pry any further. Let's gather at the Wither Council."

"Hmm?" Nathanos's smile vanished, and he looked at Meryl with a puzzled expression.

"I have something very important to say. Don't wait for Veronalara and Gizzlok; they have their own missions to complete."

"Speaking of which, you've been gone quite a while. I thought it wouldn't have taken long to find the Moon God Scythe. Did you go somewhere else?" Nathanos turned his gaze from Meryl's face to the blue moon in the sky. He needed an explanation.

"Please keep this a secret, Nathanos," Meryl said, the mage slowly lifting his left sleeve to reveal a suit of leather armor covering his hand. Meryl shook his head in disgust at the hand. "Look."

Another scene appeared before Nathanos. He thought Meryl, like the other Forsaken, had little flesh left in his body, but his hand was strong and intact, only covered with black spots.

"It's not over yet."

As soon as the sorcerer spoke, his hand changed. Spiked armor, resembling both stone and steel, emerged from numerous black spots, encasing the entire hand. Irregular cracks appeared between his fingers, gradually spreading and turning green, as if a powerful energy was about to erupt.

Nathanos took a step back, feeling uneasy, for he sensed a dangerous odor.

Before the Witherer could react, a pair of enormous wings suddenly sprouted from beneath Meryl's cloak, appearing and disappearing in a daze, stunning Nathanos. Then, the mage's shadow also changed, stretching long in the moonlight, yet incongruous with its master. It looked strong, tall, and ramrod straight; most strangely, horns sprouted from its head.

This perfectly matched the characteristics of a demon, but Meryl wasn't a demon. The Witherer realized the gravity of the situation and asked, "What... happened to you?"

"There is a Demon Lord within me," he replied, but Nathanos could not understand. The mage knew it couldn't be explained in a few words. Meryl slowly withdrew his transformation; his wings vanished like a phantom, and his hands returned to normal. "The Dark Portal ... there seems to be a new anomaly."

The dawn sunlight streamed gently into Jaina's bedroom through the gap in the curtains. It was her usual time to wake up. She blinked, smiled sleepily, stretched, then stuck her legs out of bed, stood up, put on a robe, and drew back the dark blue curtains.

It was a radiant morning; the sun had risen, while the shadow of the long night lingered, and the sky was ablaze with the colors of rose, gold, and lavender. She opened the window, breathing in the salty air, letting the morning breeze tousle her long, uncombed golden hair. The Proudmoore family had seawater flowing in their veins. She was also known as "The Daughter of the Sea."

After lingering by the window for a moment, Jaina turned and walked away. She combed her long hair and then sat down at a small table. Mages had all sorts of strange ways to concentrate, and Jaina was one of them. She lit a candle and stared intently at it. She did this every day; it calmed her mind. The flickering light allowed her to temporarily escape the scene before her eyes, focusing on her inner world and preparing herself for what was to come...

Five years had passed since the Battle of Mount Hyjal, Jaina had not had any contact with Sylvanas during that time. Receiving a letter from the Windrunner seemed somewhat abrupt, but it was still a welcome surprise.

Sylvanas seemed furious. In her letter, she directly stated that she had brought many of her Elf brethren with her and had been sailing at sea for nearly a month. She also claimed that she had important news to warn the Alliance.

Jaina's intuition told her that this was not a good thing.

Her blue eyes suddenly widened, and she became alert: Had something happened to Quel'Thalas? Come to think of it, Jaina hadn't heard anything from the Elven Kingdom in a long time.

Now she could sense it too, like an old sailor who could always smell the storm coming. A vague unease rose in her heart, and she quickly took a shower and changed her clothes. When her most trusted companion Tervosh, knocked on the door, she had already prepared a pot of hot tea.

"Ms. Proudmoore," Tervosh said, "A guest wants to see you." He looked flustered. "You'll have to see her; I've verified her identity, she's real."

Jaina gasped. What on earth had happened to make Tervosh say such a thing?

"Who goes there?" she asked. Tervosh turned slightly; it seemed the person was right outside the door, though the mage looked uneasy. Jaina poured herself a cup of hot tea, took a sip, and waited for the visitor. After a moment, a tall, slender figure landed lightly on the wooden floor of the room and strode into her living room. The hood was pulled low, almost obscuring the face. Her steps were light and agile, so when she suddenly stopped, her fine blue cloak still fluttered slightly. She bowed, then straightened up.

"Ms. Jaina," her voice was pleasant and melodious, instantly dispelling Jaina's doubts. "I'm sorry to have come before the originally scheduled date; I didn't want to visit like this."

As she spoke, she pulled down her hood, revealing a beautiful and captivating smile. She had an Elf face, with long, light golden hair cascading casually over her shoulders, and her resolute eyes shone brightly.

She recognized her immediately and her eyes widened in surprise.

"Lady Sylvanas!" Jaina said, both amused and exasperated. "How could this be so sudden? I wasn't ready to give you any formal welcome."

"Don't do that, it's embarrassing," Sylvanas gently shook her head. "I'm already very grateful that you've hosted me."

Jaina quickly regained her composure, poured two cups of tea, handed them to the other woman, and said sincerely, "Lady Sylvanas, it has been many years since we last met. I still remember the days when we fought side by side on Mount Hyjal, and your bravery made you famous throughout Theramore. I am honored to receive your message now."

She sat down on a comfortable little sofa and invited Sylvanas to come over to her side.

"I also remember the Battle of Mount Hyjal, madam," the Female Elf said. "You led your army to fight the demons and finally secured a place for yourselves in Kalimdor. Theramore impressed me greatly, and I think you can help me."

"Just call me Jaina. I will definitely help you." Jaina smiled sweetly. "But may I ask why you brought your people all the way to Theramore? And now you want to meet me in this way...?"

"To avoid causing panic and conflict," Sylvanas sighed, then took a sip of her tea. "I bring bad news for the Alliance." She looked up, her pale green eyes fixed on Jaina. "My sister, Alleria, has become the Regent of Quel'Thalas. She has led her people... to join the Horde."

"What?" Jaina felt a chill run down her spine, and Tervosh seemed equally intimidated. "Join the Horde! Why would you do that?" Jaina asked eagerly, wanting to know more—when did this happen, what was the purpose, and had it all been settled?

Sylvanas briefly explained the situation, and every word she spoke made Jaina's mood even more somber. "This only happened recently. My sister has sent an envoy to the Horde's capital city... Due to the time constraints, I think you may not know about this yet."

"I have absolutely no idea." Jaina shook her head blankly, then looked at Sylvanas, "Then you..."

"I'm against her. In fact, I have several ships full of people who didn't want to join my sister's side, so they ran away with me." Sylvanas appeared calm, but her fingernails were scratching the pattern on her teacup. "What help could you offer?" she asked, surprised at how weak and helpless her voice sounded. Jaina, however, was ashen-faced and remained silent for a long time.