Simple Spells

"You want to save my sister? You should know very well that she has been cursed for thousands of years. She won't get rid of it as easily as I have; no, it's simply impossible for her."

Nathanos shook his head, not thinking it was utterly impossible. "At least I'll try. Once she's free from the Old Gods' control, she'll repay the Forsaken. But if I kill her, it won't do the Forsaken any good either."

"What you want most."

"What I want most?" Nathanos looked at Wrathion seemed completely confident of victory. The Black Prince was like a player, able to accurately predict what would happen next.

"You know what? The black dragons are the race that knows Azeroth best. We guard the land, so we naturally know its structure." As he spoke, a scroll appeared out of thin air in the Black Prince's hand and was handed to the Witherer. "Take a look, and then consider my request."

The paper seemed to be enchanted; the moment Nathanos touched it, the Witherer felt his vision drawn to a very distant place. In the mist, he saw an island, hidden beneath dark clouds. On the island, twisted, morbid jungles and swamps coexisted, and in the center of the island, a palace comparable to Icecrown Citadel stood proudly. It was not the architectural style of the Alliance, nor of the Horde, nor even of any race that Nathanos had ever seen before.

The scroll suddenly detached itself and returned to Wrathion's hand. Nathanos asked in surprise, "What was that?"

"One of the few places in the world where a large amount of energy can be gathered."

Energy, bloodline, and a suitable location... these are secrets belonging to Nathanos personally, yet this black dragon... An angry expression appeared between the brows of the Witherer; he had almost had enough of the Black Prince's provocations.

"You'd better give me an explanation, Wrathion. Otherwise, you'll die."

"Is it that difficult? With just a little more attention, you'll find that Forsaken spies frequently appear in places like Uldum, Ulduar, and even the Nexus— places more or less connected to the Titans. Undoubtedly, they all share one thing in common: the ability to gather energy. While I don't know what you're planning, I'm certain this is important to you."

He was right about everything. Nathanos was very reluctant to admit it.

"Well? Think it over carefully. I don't have much time, after all, the Red Dragon is coming to cause me trouble soon. I will leave after I deal with all the black dragons."

Nathanos harbored a strong desire to accept Wrathion's deal. He needed a more powerful body, the Forsaken needed a powerful leader, and the price was merely a prisoner, an Old Gods's servant who should have been beheaded long ago. Yes, Deathwing was about to be defeated, the Cataclysm would pass, Onyxia was no longer of any use... what use would she be?

As dusk fell, Ohan hadn't expected them to leave Ravenholdt Manor so easily. Walking down the hill, she saw the ruins of Durnholde Castle again.

"Master, where do we go next?" she asked, looking at the somewhat disheveled Nathanos with worried eyes. The female Orcs couldn't quite understand what had just happened. Too many questions made her unable to hold back her words.

Nathanos stopped, then walked forward, saying in a hoarse voice, "Go back, go back to Maraudon, and do what you must do."

The female Orcs frowned and asked, "You... are you really not going to reconsider?"

Without uttering a word, the Witherer quickened their pace and arrived in Tarren Mill, where a group of Forsaken warriors was already waiting for them.

"Master," the leading Undead bowed deeply. "Your ship is ready."

Meryl stood in the guardian sanctuary beneath the Wyrmrest Temple. The outside was completely surrounded by Deathwing's army. The sky had also become a battlefield, with the Wyrmrest Accord and Legion of black dragons and Twilight Dragon locked in fierce combat. The vibrant colors of various spells illuminated the entire Dragonblight.

After transforming into a raven, Meryl's sense of smell became significantly sharper in detecting corpses. The temple was empty except for a body lying on the ground. The mage was surprised to find that he recognized him.

"Benedictus? Oh, I really hope the intelligence provided by Nathanos's spy in Stormwind City is wrong. Are you really Twilight Father?"

Watching the revered archbishop fall into darkness, Meryl shook her head. How many outwardly glamorous people harbor twisted hearts?

Benedictus's forehead was almost ripped open; he died from a weapon like a warhammer. Meryl immediately thought of Thrall. Did that Shaman feel the same way after learning the truth?

"I'm sorry, Guardian Dragons, and Thrall," the mage said, recalling Nathanos's words: Your task is easy, but crucial.

Was this behavior right or wrong? Meryl pondered this for a long time on his way here. Nathanos's plan was somewhat selfish; if it succeeded, the Guardian Dragons would lose all their power, and his participation in the first link would determine whether the subsequent steps could be implemented.

"Azeroth, may your champion be right," Meryl whispered. Atiesh was held in his hand, standing on the platform in the center of the temple. This position ensured that spells would evenly cover the entire Wyrmrest Temple.

In Dalaran, apprentices who understand magic know how to use mana to create Mirror Image to aid them in battle; those with even a slight mastery of magic can summon multiple Mirror Image simultaneously. For Meryl, the lack of a basic standard for the effectiveness of magic is a waste of mana. As one of the first members of the Council of Tirisfal, Meryl's spells are far more varied than those of ordinary people.

The Arcanist sat atop the Wyrmrest Temple. Meryl initially thought his little trick wouldn't fool Kalecgos. Nathanos, however, told him that in the most critical moments, the Guardian Dragons' full attention was on Deathwing, and unless the Old Gods' army stormed the Wyrmrest Temple, no one would notice the situation within the temple itself.

For a fleeting moment, the mage hoped that Nathanos was wrong, or that Kalecgos would notice the spell that covered the entire spire, but he knew in his heart that by the time the Guardian Dragons realized something was amiss, it would be too late.

The incantation emanated from Meryl's throat, slowly taking shape, and in a short while, the spell was complete. His task was finished, and it was time for the other two members of the Blade of the Witherer to perform.

"Forgive me, Guardian Dragons." Meryl sighed as she summoned a portal, preparing to return to Maraudon. "This is his will, and perhaps the will of Azeroth as well. Your duty is over."