The Eve of the Cataclysm
What on earth happened? What was that dark figure? Did the Guardians do it? Who was this accomplice they brought? How could this happen? Chromatus has been destroyed! Destroyed in an instant!
Twilight Father pressed his face against the crystal ball, trying to find even a trace of Chromatus. He trembled, his heart racing with fear of the consequences of this defeat.
No! Nothing at all! The Chromatic Dragon had vanished completely, Nefarian's ultimate creation had been destroyed, and Chromatus was truly utterly annihilated. Twilight Father was drenched in sweat; he'd rather die on the battlefield immediately. Deathwing's wrath would burn him to ashes.
His robes were soaked with sweat, clinging tightly to his body. The Prism of Focus was still in his possession; the Guardians would soon be coming for him. He knew he might be killed, but the news here had to be reported to Deathwing. With numb fingers, he took the small crystal he used to communicate with Deathwing from his pocket and stared at it for a moment.
He hesitated, wondering if he should just run away. No, he couldn't. Deathwing knew his identity and could destroy him in an instant. Besides, he was all alone, surrounded by Red Dragon, green, Bronze Dragon, and blue dragons, not to mention the powerful guardians.
Huddled in the cave that would soon be searched, Twilight Father placed the crystal ball on the ground, knelt before it, and trembled violently. The crystal ball, which had been empty, was now filled with a smoky gray, revealing only a pair of glowing eyes.
"They won." The Twilight Godfather was surprised that he still had the courage to speak first, though his voice stammered, his fear evident. "They brought reinforcements. They defeated your strongest forces. Chromatus is destroyed."
Deathwing sensed the presence of the other Guardian Dragons on the battlefield. He should have been enraged, but instead, he remained silent. For Twilight Father, the chilling silence was more terrifying than a roar; this human now suspected that the Worldbreaker was contemplating how to deal with him.
In fact, he was right. Deathwing's first thought was to cast a spell to kill Twilight Father, but he held back because he would need this human in many other situations. After his daughter Onyxia went missing, Deathwing had spent a great deal of time and effort supporting Twilight Father in order to regain control of the Alliance. It would be too much of a waste to destroy this pawn in a moment of anger.
After a long and terrifying period of time, a message flew into Twilight Father's consciousness. "So... you failed, and you failed miserably!"
Twilight Father flinched. "No, Chromatus has been defeated, but the defeat is only temporary, my master. The Guardian Dragons have already used all their power just to destroy Chromatus. So, if you were to personally take to the field, they would have no chance. This world would be torn apart."
He heard the flapping of wings outside the cave; he knew without a doubt that Alexstrasza and her forces were approaching. Twilight Father pleaded pitifully for Deathwing's help, his voice filled with terror. "Master, I will continue to serve you, but they will soon find me. Please save me!"
"You have disappointed me." Deathwing's voice boomed. "You were so sure victory was in your grasp, but the Guardians are still alive, Chromatus is destroyed, and Twilight's Hammer has suffered heavy losses. Now you still dare to hope for my protection?"
"Please don't abandon me, Master. I can still do many things for you!" The Twilight Godfather clutched the crystal ball tightly, pleading humbly. "You know my influence in Stormwind City. My position allows me to recruit many followers. Let me return to where I belong, let me restore the power of the Twilight's Hammer, and soon the prophecy of the Twilight Judgment will spread throughout the world."
"Humans are indeed easy to control," Deathwing said. "You've managed to save your life. Alright, go through the portal." As he finished speaking, a light, like silk, suddenly shone beside Twilight Father. Through the swirling imagery within the portal, Twilight Father saw his residence in Stormwind City. "Go back, Benedictus! Continue to betray those who respect and trust you. Remember, my eyes are always on you."
Twilight Father nodded hastily, removing his cloak and dropping the Prism of Focus. With a sigh of relief, he stepped into the portal, still dressed in his traditional Priest's robes. "Thank you, my master," Archbishop Benedictus said humbly. "I will not let you down."
The scorching red weapon was placed into the water tank, stirring up a violent burst of white steam.
A Goblins, shirtless, worked before a forge in the Artisan District of Maraudon, his sweat-drenched body reflecting the blazing firelight. Since the Lich King's defeat, the atmosphere among the Forsaken had never been so tense. Everyone seemed to be working tirelessly. Giznok pondered the power of the weapons in the tanks. If possible, the Forsaken army would soon be equipped with such weapons.
In the shipyards of Desolation Hold, the Forsaken shipwrights are working day and night to build warships. Over the years, as designers have continuously optimized the construction process, the combat power of each warship has increased, and the construction time has shortened. Fleet Commander Tatsel has received orders from the Witherer. The Forsaken warships will sail towards the Eastern Kingdoms.
Instructor Rassuvios felt he had never been busier. He kept training soldiers, but still couldn't meet the demands of the war, so his workload increased several times over, but he enjoyed it nonetheless.
Over the course of several months, orders were received by everyone among the Forsaken, from their leaders down to their local spies. Everyone sprang into action.
Nathanos the Witherer sat alone in a secret chamber within Alterac Fortress. He stared intently at the map of the Eastern Kingdoms on the table before him, the flickering candlelight casting shadows across its surface. His gaze swept over many places: Andorhal, where a remnant of the Scourge still lingered near Scholomance; Lordaeron, the last stronghold of the Crimson Crusade; Gilneas, the kingdom hiding behind its walls. So much land, so much room to live. Finally, Nathanos's eyes rose, where a black streak pierced the map's northernmost kingdom— Quel'Thalas.
"What will you do next, my love?" he murmured, a smile spreading across his face as he glanced at a message from Orgrimmar. "Let's see who will become the ruler of this land."