The Voice

Veronalara followed the three. No one welcomes the Undead, but the Dark Ranger's curiosity drove her; perhaps the man in the top hat would lead her to the kingdom of Gilneas. Perhaps they could even glean some information about what was about to happen in the kingdom from their conversation.

"Lord Godfrey, we seem to have found no trace of him."

"You and Blake are the best hunters in the kingdom, and you know the purpose of our trip and the weight of responsibility it carries. Don't let me down." Godfrey pulled his hat down further.

After observing him repeatedly, Veronalara determined that this man was far more well-equipped than the two others of similar appearance. The sword hanging at his waist was the most obvious weapon; in addition, he concealed a short gun under his clothing. A hidden sword was also concealed in his cane.

The weight of responsibility? Veronalara carefully considered Godfrey's words; they must be carrying out some important mission.

"Move quickly, we can't let the rebels get ahead of us," Godfrey's words reminded the Dark Ranger. Veronalara immediately understood. There had been rumors of civil unrest in Gilneas, with a force known as the "Northgate Rebels" plunging the city into crisis. Their leader, Crowley, openly defied Greymane, and there were even rumors that he was aiding the Alliance.

Civil war gripped the nation. The Capital City was under attack by Gilneas' own subjects, and smoke filled the air. Veronalara wondered what Nathanos would do in this turbulent time. The Forsaken's territories in the Eastern Kingdoms lay north of Gilneas; would he take advantage of this opportunity to Gilneas? After all, others had already done the same. The Horde's fleet had already occupied the northwestern coast of the kingdom, poised to seize Gilneas, which was on the verge of collapse. No, with the Witherer's foresight, he would never stand idly by while the Horde acted so recklessly.

"I'm here, Godfrey."

A strange shout brought Veronalara back to her senses. It seemed Godfrey had found the person they were looking for. The man emerged from behind a tree; he was burly but pale, as if in excruciating pain, his breathing rapid.

"King Genn!" Mistermantho revealed the man's identity. Veronalara could only describe her feelings as astonishment.

"Are you injured?" Mistermantho asked.

Genn caught his breath; he was clearly injured, but he chose to hide it. "No, I was just scared. I thought you were rebels."

The Dark Ranger, observing from a distance, realized the old King was lying. Genn's collar was pulled up high, as if he was trying desperately to hide something.

"It's a relief you're alright, Your Majesty." Godfrey removed his hat and bowed slightly. "We must leave here immediately for safety; the kingdom needs you to lead the way."

"Yes, old friend. It's definitely not safe here!" Genn breathed a sigh of relief, his short, tense breaths indicating he had fooled them.

After the group had gone some distance, Veronalara didn't pursue them. Genn's appearance would inevitably attract more people to meet him, and continuing to follow would be too dangerous. She was simply curious: what was Genn doing here? Had he encountered the rebels? If so, there should be traces of them here. The Dark Ranger began searching the area. Genn was wounded, proving he had fought and killed his attackers; he himself was no longer capable of large-scale movement.

As she searched deeper, Veronalara easily detected a faint smell of blood, and she continued searching following the scent...

"Interesting," she said. A Worgen carcass lay hidden in the bushes before them. Bloodstains clung to its exposed claws, but they couldn't be its own. "Things are getting interesting now." Veronalara turned her gaze towards the direction Genn and the others had disappeared.

The salt and parasites in the seawater would only accelerate the body's decay. Knowing all this, Nathanos had no choice but to enter the deep sea in his black mist form. On the surface, he saw the wreckage of warships, some belonging to the Alliance, others to the Horde. Scattered supply crates floated aimlessly, along with the corpses of Orcs and humans.

The Naga alone probably couldn't have accomplished this. The Witherer judged that they had been attacked by something far more terrifying.

The situation beneath the surface seemed even more complex. Inside a sunken Alliance ship, he was astonished to discover spaces that hadn't been submerged. Nathanos was thankful he still had the chance to revert to human form.

"Shaman's little trick!" The Witherer murmured. In the empty cabin lay discarded human armor and bloodstained bandages. The Alliance had briefly stayed here before being forced to relocate due to the Naga attack; otherwise, this place could have served as a small outpost.

After a brief pause, Nathanos continued his exploration of the deep sea, encountering Naga soldiers roaming about and a type of underwater Goblins creature. However, these were not what he was looking for. As one of the few remaining Undead wielding powerful dark energy, he was sensitive to spiritual matters, such as the resentment of the dead and the lingering attachments of their souls. Upon reaching the seabed, he sensed a faint, hollow voice resonating within the waters, which deeply captivated him.

The voice was a guide, leading him to the ruins of a building that had sunk to the bottom of the sea.

"The Night Elf's past," Nathanos murmured. Much of the Kaldorei Empire was buried beneath the waves, all because their queen made a foolish decision. Azshara paid a terrible price for her attempt to bring the Burning Legion into the world. But the Witherer had long noticed the presence of many Naga in Kalimdor. They mostly appeared near the ruins of the High Elf buildings that remain to this day. Within their range, a distorted female statue, half-human and half-serpent, with an exquisitely beautiful face, was always visible. Nathanos had seen Azshara and would never forget her. All signs pointed to the self-proclaimed noble queen still alive, only in a different form, just like her servants.

Tens of thousands of years have passed, and we have no idea what Azshara is doing now.

Nathanos stopped. He began to carefully search the ruins, while the anger and hatred hidden in the voice grew stronger, as if it were calling to him.

"A weapon?" The Witherer found what was wailing. His misty form swirled around a piece of metal discarded in the ruins—a shattered fragment of a long-handled weapon. This surprised him, and he realized that the sound must have come from the weapon's owner, though Nathanos couldn't sense her soul.

"It seems your master isn't here! In that case, let me see your past."