The beginning

More than 6,000 years ago, Dath'Remar Sunstrider led the elven nobles who wished to continue studying and using arcane magic away from their kin, accepting exile and migrating east to Lordaeron.

These Highborne who migrated east evolved into high elves and established their own Magic Kingdom, Quel'Thalas. The high elves then used water from the Well of Eternity to create a new source of magic on the island of Quel'Danas: the Sunwell.

With the Sunwell as their foundation, the high elves built three temples along the energy lines of the ley line network: An'telas, Andaroth, and An'owyn.

These three temples each housed part of a magical artifact divided into three moon-shaped crystals—the Key of the Three Moons. Each Booty Bay Hall was built at an intersection of ley lines and looked much like the Sunwell. The circuits of the ley line network were like the veins of the earth, except that magic flowed through them instead of blood.

Thus, an energy field called Bann'donor-Elvish for "gatekeeper"-formed between the crystals, serving as the guardian of this land. The energy field protected the Elfgate and the high elves, while also containing the energy released by the high elves' magical research, preventing the Burning Legion in the Twisting Nether from exploiting gaps in the ley line defenses to invade again.

For 6,000 years, Quel'Thalas had enjoyed favorable weather thanks to the Sunwell, and the high elves had basked in its radiance.

Yet in year 20 of the Dark Portal, the world-renowned Magic Kingdom of Quel'Thalas would fall to Arthas. In Silvermoon City, the royal capital of the high elves of Quel'Thalas, the top of Sunfury Spire—the symbol of the Sunstrider Court—shone with the Arcane Brilliance that had illuminated the continent for thousands of years.

All of it vanished when the High Elf king, Anasterian Sunstrider, was killed by the invaders and the Sunwell was corrupted.

Anasterian Sunstrider fell, Sylvanas Windrunner fell, Salorian Dawnseeker fell, and countless elven heroes fell upon the land where they had once lived.

Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider returned home to rally his people, renaming the entire race blood elves in memory of their fallen kin, then destroyed the corrupted source of magic, the Sunwell.

Despite all the difficulties-the drastic decline in the elven population, the vast majority of the remaining high elves becoming Wretched because of their magical addiction, and the destruction of their magical energy source-the surviving elves worked together and began rebuilding their homeland.

The beginning.

Eversong Woods always enjoyed gentle breezes and bright sunshine. Bathed in the Sunwell's radiance, the golden leaves of its magical trees swayed in the soft wind, and arcane ions filled the air. It was intoxicating.

Patrick Cabrolon, a minor alchemist, enjoyed generous benefits in Silvermoon City like many ordinary elves, with no worries about food or clothing. If there was anything different about him, perhaps it was the different soul hidden within his body. A soul from another universe, a universe with a solar system and an Earth, had taken over the body of the Cabrolon family's youngest son.

The Cabrolon family had a modest reputation in Silvermoon City. As a family of alchemists, most of the alchemical potions they produced were purchased directly by the council for military use.

Patrick also worked for the family, learning to prepare alchemical concoctions. Silvermoon City operated a free rationing system, with the state providing daily necessities at no cost. The elves lived comfortable, leisurely lives, and every year their respected king purchased the potions, food, and materials he needed, bringing in considerable income.

Having come to this new world, after all, Arthas's invasion, the rise of the Lich King, and the disaster in Lordaeron were matters of the utmost importance. Patrick had once planned to gather all his possessions after the Second War with the orcs, before the Scourge disaster erupted, then move away and flee to the humans' Northshire Abbey.

People in TG were deeply attached to their homeland. After crossing over, Patrick had been lonely for a long time, thinking of his parents and friends on Earth. He could not imagine the blow that losing their only child would deal his parents, and he tried not to imagine it,

hoping time could erase the wound. But it had not. Time had merely made Patrick accustomed to the wound, an unavoidable habit of living with that pain. Only after living in Quel'Thalas for a long time had he gradually adjusted. His parents, Phil-Cabrolon, his older brother Patterson-Cabrolon, and the others all took great care of him, giving him a sense of belonging here.

After all, war was about to break out, and that was merely the beginning of Azeroth's turmoil. Surviving the turbulent tides of war was the first priority.

Although, according to legend, Northshire Abbey was where the chaos of Azeroth began, long before King Lothar took part in that damned adventure, even before he came of age, when the era should still have been before the Dark Portal calendar, a young man awoke from more than a decade of slumber.

Though he himself was completely unaware, and no one knew, a demon had already planted the seeds of a plot deep within his heart. He gave his friend, the young King Llane, a magical hourglass symbolizing the kingdom's fortunes, claiming that as long as its sand kept flowing, the kingdom would stand. No one knew that the hourglass could actually break at any moment.

Even after experiencing so much, it remained the starting point for human adventurers. It seemed like a bystander, unchanged by those who passed through.

Patrick worked in the alchemy chamber of his father Phil-Cabrolon's mage tower. His father was only a Fifth Ring mage, but he was highly accomplished in alchemy, primarily supplying the council with provisions, alchemical products, raw materials, and the like. Even Nochong, captain of the palace Spellbreakers, was full of praise for his father's alchemical potions.

This month's quota had arrived again. Patrick rubbed his forehead: forty portions of silverleaf, fifteen portions of peacebloom, fifteen portions of earthroot, and thirty crystal vials. It looked as though he needed to make Strength Potions and Lesser Healing Potions.

Such was the life of a minor second-circle mage. In the mornings, he studied the family's spellbooks and practiced arcane magic; in the afternoons, he prepared to extract silverleaf solution in the alchemy chamber. Used as a solvent and combined with peacebloom, silverleaf solution had a simple healing effect.

Patrick opened his arcane tome, ready to begin today's lesson, "The application of arcane magic and its connection to Spiritual Power."

The study of magic was a wondrous thing. It seemed to manifest powers unique to magic according to certain energy rules and principles, somewhat like science in his previous life. Science had explained the many things in his previous life, and both daily life and production had been closely connected to it.

Science had its rules, such as conservation of energy, conservation of atoms, and the laws of gravity. Patrick had once believed that arcane magic also had its own so-called principles, but only now that he had become a true Arcanist did he realize he had been too naive after all.

Arcane magic was not science, nor was it a law of physics or chemistry. Rather, it was a form of higher-order energy that could be channeled and controlled. The runes, sigils, and magic circles researched on the basis of arcane magic all used arcane energy as their driving force.

As an Arcanist rose in rank, the demands on Spiritual Power became increasingly important. Strong Spiritual Power could affect the construction of spell models, casting techniques, and so on... The benefits an Arcanist gained from improving Spiritual Power were limitless.

Thinking over his understanding of Spiritual Power, Patrick began training his own, sculpting ice within his mind and imagining the shape of a Frostbolt: its sharp tip, its crystal-clear shaft, its sharply defined fletching, step by step, detail by detail.

Patrick carefully controlled the construction of Spiritual Power and released arcane energy at an even rate, not daring to slacken in the slightest. Yet he kept failing to grasp the knack of it. When the Frostbolt finally appeared in his hand, it was only the rough outline of an arrow. His elementary Spiritual Power could not construct a perfect Frostbolt, but it did confirm the connection and mutual benefit between Spiritual Power and arcane magic.

Three feet of ice did not form in a single day. Training also required daily accumulation, and prolonged practice should allow him to achieve the ideal form in his mind.

"You seemed to be training your Spiritual Power just now. Diligence is not a quality often seen among us Quel'dorei. Knowledge from the School of Evocation should help you. I wish you success, little brother," Patterson-Cabrolon said. His older brother Patterson was a little excited; even his long golden eyebrows trembled slightly.

The Cabrolon family was a mid-sized clan with a fairly substantial estate in Silvermoon City. Its businesses spanned several fields, including alchemy, herbalism, and trade in various raw materials. The only thing it lacked was a high-ranking Arcanist, so it could not enter the Silvermoon Council and held little core power.

The family head, Phil-Cabrolon, the two brothers' father, was merely a Fifth Ring mage who owned a five-story mage tower.

Arcane sensitivity... Patrick thought. "Yes, I was just practicing the Mental Construct Technique according to the method described in the book."

His older brother Patterson-Cabrolon had noticed him practicing his Spiritual Power. High elves possessed an innate affinity for arcane magic, and some elves with arcane sensitivity could even immediately determine whether a creature could cast spells and its highest spell level.

Patterson was already a fourth-circle mage, and the mage in the family most likely to surpass their father and inherit the mage tower. In Patterson's impression, Patrick had great talent for arcane magic. Before even reaching the end of his first century, he had successfully become a Third-Ring Mage. Given time, his arcane accomplishments would surpass their father's.

High elves had long lives, with an average lifespan of 4,000 years. Back in ancient times, the high elves had gained immortality through the Well of Eternity. During the War of the Ancients 10,000 years ago, Sargeras led the Burning Legion in an invasion, and the elves and demons fought a battle that shook the world.

Ultimately, the great battle threw the Well of Eternity's energies into chaos, causing the vortex within it to explode and triggering a series of catastrophes.

The massive explosion shook the foundations of the Well of Eternity's temple and caused violent earthquakes throughout the continent. As the Burning Legion and the night elves continued their bloody battle, the raging Well of Eternity collapsed.

The Well of Eternity had given the Highborne prosperity and immortality. With its explosion, it took away everything it had given: life, energy, livelihoods, and even civilization. This catastrophic explosion tore the earth apart and filled the sky with dark clouds... as though the world were ending.

The violent earthquakes triggered by the Well of Eternity's explosion destroyed the framework of the world, and seawater roared into the continent's fissures. Nearly eighty percent of Kalimdor's landmass was torn apart, leaving only a few scattered continents surrounding the newly formed ocean.

At the center of this new sea—where the Well of Eternity had once stood—was a vast Maelstrom churning with chaotic energy.

This terrible scar was called the Maelstrom, and its mad spinning would never cease. Beneath a crimson sky, amid crimson seawater, an immense vortex stretching beyond sight slowly swirled, constantly drawing seawater into itself. No one dared approach this place; even airships in the sky had to take a detour.

It had once been the beginning of the world, but now it had become the world's end. This was the remnant of that Cataclysm, and it also marked the end of an ideal age...

Having lost the Well of Eternity, the Highborne began to discover that their immortal lives were gone. Their cities' magic circles, arcane nodes, magical carvings, and mana crystal towers began to fail, and even the cities' basic energy supply gradually became unable to keep up.

The emptiness of losing arcane magic constantly tormented the Highborne. The people grew haggard, like walking corpses. The disappearance of magical energy caused the Highborne to degenerate, and only when Dath'Remar crossed the sea to the Eastern Kingdoms and established the Sunwell was their degeneration curbed.