The Final Call

Outside Windrunner Tower, countless figures were hidden in the surrounding trees. Zul'jin observed the movements of the guards below. His scouts, whom he had sent to scout, returned just then.

"How is it?" Zul'jin asked through his whistle.

The Troll scout whispered his report into the chieftain's ear.

"What?" Zul'jin stared at the scout in disbelief. "Not a single member of the Windrunner family is here?"

The scout nodded; he could see the leader's expression change. "Sylvanas Windrunner and Vareesa Windrunner went to Silvermoon City. Lirath Windrunner isn't here; we're still searching for him."

"We must find that brat!" Zul'jin clenched his fists. He vowed to seize this opportunity to make the Windrunner family pay the price. He knew he had no way out. He had just received a report from the rear that Doomhammer had burned the forest, which enraged him. After dealing with things here, Zul'jin decided to personally confront Orgrim.

Should we continue the attack?

"Of course," Zul'jin answered immediately. Not only him, but his Warrior also craved revenge, their weapons thirsting for the blood of the Elf. Now that the opportunity was before them, he would not allow himself to back down.

"Action!"

On the other side of the deep forest

Alleria leaped over the bushes blocking her path. Instead of heading towards Windrunner Tower, she went straight to Silvermoon City. She saw the raging fire; she was furious, her face pale, and she even considered turning back to attack the Horde. But she was outnumbered and outmatched, and she trusted Turalyon would stop them. All she could do was go to Silvermoon City for reinforcements. She made a difficult choice: between her family and her kingdom. Alleria chose the latter. She knew the Troll would go to Windrunner Tower, and that it would be completely undefended. Alleria prayed that her brothers and sisters were not at home at that moment.

"Faster!" she slapped her legs anxiously. "By the Sunwell above, may I get there in time." Alleria ran through the forest, sword in hand, the rustling of leaves and branches blurring her figure.

She now felt a pang of regret. Would all of this have happened if she hadn't decided to leave Silvermoon City? Anasterian Sunstrider and the council members were clearly wiser than her, and would naturally have been better positioned to help these young races. The thought flashed through her mind, but Alleria dismissed it. Anasterian believed the Horde would never be a threat, which was why he thought the Alliance was nothing to worry about. Whatever happened outside, Quel'Thalas was safe; clearly, he was wrong.

Thinking of this, she quickened her pace, leaped over a low bush, and came to a very small clearing, where she found herself with a hunting arrow aimed at her throat.

The archer and Alleria shared similar attire, or rather, they looked very alike. Long hair peeked out from under the hood of her cloak, a shade of ivory white that Alleria knew all too well and would never mistake.

"Vareesa?"

The Elf lowered her bow, her wide blue eyes filled with surprise and relief. "Alleria?" The other threw the bow aside and rushed into her arms. "You're back!"

"Of course." Alleria gently stroked her head naturally. "Are you alright?" she asked after a pause. "Where is Sylvanas? Are your family safe?"

"They're all fine," Vareesa replied, picking up her weapon. "My second sister is patrolling near the riverbank. My parents are safe too; they're in Silvermoon City now. Only Lirath ..." She paused, which startled Alleria.

"What happened to Lirath?"

Vareesa shook her head. "He's gone. A few days ago he had an argument with his parents. He didn't want to become a mage; he just wanted to live a leisurely life of his own, so he ran away from home!"

"What!" Alleria exclaimed in shock. "Doesn't he know that Quel'Thalas is under attack? It's dangerous outside."

"My parents rushed to Silvermoon City to consult with the elders after seeing the fire," Vareesa continued, looking at her long-lost sister. "Alleria, where did you go? What happened? There's fire everywhere! And some Ranger haven't returned to report the situation."

Hearing this news, Alleria felt uneasy. If the Ranger were starting to disappear, it meant the Troll had infiltrated the forest. "It's a long story," she replied, glancing around before immediately drawing her sword and turning to face her sister. "Now, quiet."

"Quiet? For..." Vareesa's words were interrupted by a tall figure leaping down from a tree. It pounced, a short-handled battle axe in its hand, but Alleria had already noticed it and was ready to fight. She raised her sword to parry the sneak attack, quickly retreated, dodging the curved dagger in its other hand, and then, with a flourish of her sword, decapitated it. The Troll's body fell forward.

"Quick!" Alleria warned, pulling the still-unresponsive Vareesa towards the riverbank. "Get out of here!"

Vareesa was shocked by the sudden bloodshed. She was young, the youngest of the three sisters, and had never experienced a real battle.

They hurried through the woods, Alleria heard laughter coming from above. Troll! More than one; these creatures had actually come to this spot not far from Silvermoon City, chasing after them. Alleria couldn't shake off the shrill screams that followed them.

Finally, Alleria saw the ribbon shimmering with starlight under the moonlight. It was the river! She quickened her pace and sprinted forward, and Vareesa quickened her pace to catch up. They rushed out of the woods and came to the open area by the river.

"You won't get away with this, Palehead!" a Troll roared behind the two Female Elf, having spotted the river. "Seize them!"

One of them took the lead, swinging out using a slender branch, and reached out to grab Alleria's hair, but the Female Elf nimbly dodged. As he prepared to strike a second time, an arrow pierced his neck.

The same arrows struck the other Troll, killing them before they could escape back into the forest. Alleria turned to face the river, glancing around to spot a group of Ranger on the opposite bank. One of them wore a pale blue cloak and a more ornate tunic than the others. She had long, light blonde hair, slightly lighter than Alleria's, and striking, jewel-like eyes, and a similar appearance to Alleria. The other Ranger remained beside her; she smiled and raised her bow in greeting.

"Welcome home, Alleria!" Sylvanas called out. "You seem to have brought some trouble."

Alleria smiled at her sister, still radiant. "These weren't brought by me," she replied. "I desperately want them driven out." She glanced back at the dead Troll behind her, then at Vareesa, who stood there pale, her face turned away, trying to ignore the corpses. "I must speak with the old men of the council."

"They won't listen to you," Sylvanas warned. "They're focused on this fire right now."

Alleria glanced at the Troll on the ground again. "If we told them the reason for the fire, the outcome might have been completely different."

"How cruel, sister. I thought you came home because you missed your family."

"That's why, Sylvanas." Alleria smiled, then remembered something. "Oh, right, I met Nathanos in the forest. He came here too and saved my life."

Sylvanas looked surprised upon hearing this. "What? Where is he? He's not with you."

Alleria shook her head. "The situation is urgent; he probably has his own things to do as well."

"Alright, I'll go find him. Now come with me, I'd like to know how you intend to get our King to compromise."

At Windrunner Tower, the Troll launched a sudden attack on the Elf, catching the guards completely off guard. Zul'jin and his Warrior went on a killing spree, and no Elf captured escaped death. Troll dislike fire in the forest, but fire on Elf structures is a different story. Zul'jin ordered the entire place burned down.

"Still no trace of the Windrunner family?" Zul'jin watched as the Troll he'd sent out to search returned one after another, their faces saying nothing.

"Damn it!" Zul'jin roared, in his mind killing a hundred Elf wasn't worth as much as killing one Windrunner's head. "What is it now?" As Zul'jin was angry, a Troll ran towards him. He recognized him; it was the scout he had planted in the rear.

"The Horde..." the scout gasped for breath, "The main force of the Horde has begun to retreat!"

"What!" Zul'jin grabbed the scout by the neck. "Say that again!"

"The... Horde... is... retreating... backwards!"

As soon as he finished speaking, a snapping sound rang out, and the scout's neck was broken. Zul'jin threw him into a nearby burning house. The surrounding Troll gasped in dismay; no one dared to approach Zul'jin to ask what to do next.

"Retreat!" the Forest Troll leader roared in a voice filled with extreme anger and resentment. "Retreat immediately, leave...!" His expression suddenly froze, his anger completely overwhelmed by astonishment. For a moment, he couldn't hear the sounds around him, only seeing his kin displaying the same expression before him. An arrow pierced his chest precisely from behind. He looked down at the arrowhead that had pierced his body. Incredibly, he fell to the ground.

"Enemies!"

"Careful!"

"Protect Zul'jin."

The surrounding Troll panicked, some of them regaining their composure before looking in the direction from which the arrows had come. The assassin, hiding in a tree branch, launched a sneak attack, but his opponent had already left, the branch concealing him still swaying.

"There it is!"

"Quick, after them!"

The instant Nathanos released his arrow, he turned and strode along the prepared escape route. By the time he reached Windrunner Tower, it was too late; the firelight illuminated his surroundings. He spotted Zul'jin among the Troll horde—the most distinctive, the tallest Warrior draped in a strange purple scarf. Nathanos aimed for a full five minutes, then, catching Zul'jin off guard, delivered the fatal blow. He was certain that the arrow would send the Troll leader to his doom. Now it was time for him to escape the Troll's pursuit.

Zul'jin lay limply on the ground. When his men turned him over, they discovered that his wounds were spreading black lines across the surrounding skin.

"The wound is poisoned!" shouted the Troll priest who had come to Zul'jin's side to help, while simultaneously muttering strange, incantation-like words. Zul'jin, teetering on the edge of death, felt his consciousness fading. The priest beside him was powerless to stop death from taking him. He felt no fear or sorrow, only anger and resentment. He hadn't yet completed his revenge; he couldn't die! With his last ounce of strength, Zul'jin clenched his fists, his entire body tense, and uttered a name, a voice only he could hear.

Bwonsamdi!