Anduin had sensed the Holy Light from a young age, something Varian had taken pride in. But now it seemed he had celebrated too soon. Things were not as he had imagined.
"This is a Spell Inscription bearing the power of the Old God N'Zoth. Anduin may be a Twilight believer, or someone may have placed an Old God's curse on him." As Patrick channeled his energy, the golden tattoo turned purplish-black. Finally, gold and purplish-black alternated, its chaotic and holy auras constantly shifting.
Every word Patrick spoke cut deep, striking Varian. Anduin was the scar-faced king's last remaining family. If Anduin was controlled by an Old God, Varian did not know what he would do.
"That's impossible." Medivh still clung to hope. "The power of the Holy Light conflicts with the power of the Old Gods. Anduin's Holy Light mark absolutely cannot be an Old God's Spell Inscription."
"There's nothing remarkable about that. Even the Dreadlord Balnazzar could pose as the Paladin Highlord Dathrohan," Patrick countered again. "You're a demigod mage yourself. Transforming one ordinary energy into another is effortless for us. If I hadn't come today, you wouldn't even have seen this so-called Holy Light Spell Inscription. It would have remained hidden inside the prince of Stormwind until, one day, when the Old Gods needed him, he would fall under their control."
Medivh and Varian recalled certain past events, such as Benedictus's dying words: "I will be the final victor, because I won long ago." There were also the mid-ranking officers who had suddenly turned into Faceless Ones in Stormwind City, and even the Twilight believers they had never managed to root out completely from the city.
Everything seemed to point straight to Father Benedictus.
A chill ran through both men, and an unprecedented sense of crisis arose