Bursting Forth
Sylvanas lay in her lounge, sleepless despite the late hour. The Female Elf stared at the clothes she had removed and hung on the rack, pondering Danas's words. She was unsure how to feel. Initially, she had worried that Nathanos's actions were too conspicuous and might provoke retaliation from the Alliance. However, when she heard that he commanded an army of tens of thousands, that worry seemed unnecessary.
How many secrets is he still hiding? The Female Elf turned to her side, gazing at the moon high in the night sky outside the window. Most people believed the Forsaken were merely a group of Undead had broken free of the Lich King's control, numbering at most a few hundred. But when the truth was revealed, Sylvanas couldn't help but feel a secret delight at the expression on Varian's face. This joy kept her tossing and turning, and soon she began to wonder why Nathanos had suddenly decided to attack Stromgarde at this time. There were clearly other more suitable targets; what was so special about Arathi Highlands?
"Could something be about to happen around Arathi Basin?" Sylvanas sat up. The night wind blew against her smooth, delicate skin, but felt no chill. Her inner turmoil and uncertainty weighed on her mind. The Female Elf jumped out of bed, walked barefoot to the bookshelf, skillfully took down the map, and began to examine it by the faint moonlight.
Arathi Highlands is almost the crossroads of the northern and southern Eastern Kingdoms. The Forsaken's occupation of this area will undoubtedly lead to further action, and this action will likely be related to Arathi surrounding regions. The Hinterlands to the north is the territory of the Wildhammer Dwarf. Nathanos and the Dwarf have little conflict, so they are unlikely to attack that area without provocation. Hillsbrad Foothills are almost entirely under the control of the Forsaken. Therefore, the remaining options are limited: Wetlands, or...
"Quel'Thalas?" Sylvanas's eyes were fixed on the land on the map, separated from Arathi by only a strait. It seemed too much of a coincidence; many years ago, Rhonin, the leader of Dalaran, had visited this place and thwarted the plot of the Dragonmaw Orc and Deathwing, and Nathanos had also participated in the operation.
A terrifying thought lingered in the Female Elf's mind. She didn't know why, or perhaps it was just a feeling, but she sensed that Nathanos's actions were related to the impending Deathwing. Did he know something that the Worldbreaker would appear in Quel'Thalas?
"No, I must go and see for myself."
"What are your names?" The Witherer's eyes were fixed on the two Forsaken standing before him. They stood tall and proud, like soldiers awaiting inspection.
"Malcolm."
"Sansa."
They both stated their names simultaneously. Nathanos nodded, reached for the letter Belmont had sent, and casually asked, "How is Arathi?"
Malcolm kept the intelligence, and the Undead presented it to him with both hands, replying, "It is now yours."
The Witherer chuckled, quickly glancing at the message from Orgrimmar before the intelligence file was instantly crushed into powder by a burst of dark energy in his hand. "Looks like the Horde's Great Chief is getting impatient. Alright, let's wait and see."
"Lord Belmont awaits your instructions," Sansa said. "He seems somewhat worried that the Horde's activities in the Stonetalon Mountains might threaten our base in Wailing Caverns."
"If Stoneclaw Mountain were so easily conquered, it would have Forsaken territory long ago. Let the Alliance and Horde play their own game. We have more important tasks." He glanced at the two fellow humans before him, finding them quite appealing. "I happen to need manpower right now. Would you like to stay?"
"At your service anytime," Malcolm and Sansa said in unison.
Nathanos looked satisfied. "Very good. Quel'Thalas... that is, Twilight Highlands, is a place full of conflict. We are about to intervene in the battle here."
Skagit stepped out of his rickety little shack. In this languid moment nearing Dusk, the heat remained intense. Waves lapped against the shore, and the wind dispersed the black smoke billowing from the furnace chimneys. These familiar sights brought a smile to his face. He snorted his long, thick nose, opened his narrow chest, and inhaled deeply the slightly salty air, thick with the scent of metallic ore.
"Another day," he muttered to himself, stretching his neck and fingers, preparing to walk around as if to help his dormant body regain its vitality.
He was just an ordinary Goblins, like all Goblins others on Kezan, living in the crowded, filthy, and decadent Kezan City, doing all sorts of tedious jobs. And those who employed him were even more repulsive. The Steamwheedle Cartel was the most powerful trading company on Kezan. Headquartered at Rustwater Docks, this conglomerate controlled all trade in the South Sea, while also competing with other Goblins organizations for resources and customers. And the leader of the Steamwheedle Cartel was also repulsive. Trade Prince Gallywix was a ruthless and cold-blooded man who disgusted him.
While living in such an environment was unfortunate, Skagit preferred the rest of Kezan. Mount Kajaro occupied a third of the island, and at its foot, there was a natural ambiance. It was always summer there. Green palm trees swayed in the breeze, the sky and sea were blue, and the bright yellow sand beaches were breathtaking. But when Skagit looked away and saw the drilling rig tearing through the land, his smile vanished.
He continued observing the city; the tracks of the ore carts were gradually rising into the air. In the distance, he could hear laughter and merriment emanating from the Palace of the Uncaring in Gallywix. He guessed the Trade Prince and his followers were having another party—it was the same every day.
Skagit listened intently to the sounds with a grim expression. When a deafening roar erupted, his eyes widened in shock.
The sound, a mixture of the trembling of stone and the creaking of metal, seemed to emanate from this mechanical city, but Skagit knew it didn't belong to Kezan. He lowered his head and stood still, waiting. Finally, the ground began to tremble, followed by the piercing screams of the Kezan Goblins. Skagit remained motionless, covering his ears and waiting for it to end. He wanted to warn the panicked creatures not to panic, but who would listen to him? If they had any brains, they would remember that this was the seventh earthquake this month.
A Goblins bumped into him at that moment, scattering a pile of documents along with him. Skagit glanced at them and saw five insurance policies.
"Watch out, you idiot," he yelled. The other man completely ignored him, picking up his things and rushing towards the bank. "May you scrape a penny out of Gallywix's teeth," he scoffed, before realizing something was wrong. It had been going on for far too long; the earthquake was still ongoing. He knew he was brilliant, he knew he was a genius. So he understood the consequences of such tectonic activity. The volcano would erupt, and if that happened, the entire Kezan would be finished. Skagit looked back at Mount Kajaro; it appeared normal. He let out a long sigh, only to be sucked back in by the sudden explosion behind him. His ears were ringing, his head was spinning, and he felt like the world itself was trembling.
The Goblins sensed anger, an endless rage, emanating from the black figure bursting forth from the Maelstrom. His black wings, trailing towering lava and scorching heatwaves, seemed poised to engulf the entire sea. Skagit lost his composure and screamed in terror. The color of his trousers darkened. He heard more unusual sounds: the flapping of giant wings, the creaking of metal, and deep, furious roars erupting from his throat.
Skagit watched helplessly as the dark figure flew towards Kezan. He recognized it: a maddened beast, a monster forged from metal and fire. What was terrifying was that Skagit knew who it was. It had many names. People called it Neltharion, or Sargeras, in fear, and so on. But the most fitting name for it was its current one: Deathwing.
"The world of mortals has come to an end. Quietly accept your doom. Hour of Twilight has arrived."
Skagit was almost swept away by the wind and noise. At that moment, he felt that he should learn from his compatriots. He should go home to get his insurance policy and take all his belongings with him—money, meticulous experimental records, and various supplies.
"Okay, I think I should run for my life now."