Ner'zhul and Gul'dan—the two darkest names among the stains on Orcish history.
Thrall glanced at Drek'Thar beside him. His mentor in Azeroth had told him that Ner'zhul had once been admired, even deeply loved, and that he had been the most renowned shaman, respected by every clan.
At that moment, Thrall found it difficult to connect those words with the Ner'zhul before him. He tried, but he could not.
"You can't run, rats." Ner'zhul's eyes had turned white. He too had been tainted by the Void.
Khadgar gave a light chuckle, making it unclear why he found this amusing. "Don't be so sure, Ner'zhul."
After all, the leader of the Shadowmoon Clan was alone, and no guards had emerged from the portal behind him. Khadgar's side held an absolute numerical advantage. The disparity in strength was so vast, yet Ner'zhul showed no sign of nervousness.
Unless this had been his plan all along. Thrall's pupils dilated. Before he could warn anyone, dark Void energy flooded Ner'zhul's palms. "Yes, come closer. I'll bury you alive, for the glory of the Iron Horde!"
No one could stop him in time. The Void became a beam of light and shot into the cave they occupied. In the blink of an eye, the entire cavern began to shake. Laughing wildly, Ner'zhul jumped into the portal through which he had arrived.
"This place is going to collapse!" Drek'Thar shouted.
Terror clung to everyone like a disease. It was an enclosed space, and they had not seen another exit from beginning to end.
Just then, Khadgar sharply drew in a breath. An unknown voice rushed into his mind, accompanied by an icy numbness.
"Locate my position. Teleport out immediately."
The Archmage struggled free of the discomfort and caught the other party's exact coordinates.
"Everyone, get ready!"