Outside the Temple of Atal'Hakkar, beside the lake whose waters had turned clear, Dick, Demitier, and the Drakonid Das stood bidding farewell to Eranikus's phantom. The female Worgen Velinde, carrying that gleaming great scythe on her back, was curiously teasing a fawn that had come to the lakeside to drink.
After a series of breathtaking adventures, they would leave this wretched place, where dark clouds blotted out the sky almost constantly, and head elsewhere to continue the journeys of their lives.
Dick stood very close to Eranikus's phantom. Before leaving, he still decided to tell the Green Dragons, who were about to withdraw entirely from the Temple of Atal'Hakkar, what he knew.
"Mr. Eranikus, the Atal'ai Trolls are merely an offshoot of the Gurubashi Trolls of Stranglethorn Vale. And I heard that the Hakkari Priests had very close dealings with the Gurubashi Trolls before this. I strongly suspect that the worship of Hakkar has revived in that lost city. Perhaps at some point in the future, we'll have to deal with this Soulflayer again."
The Paladin's eyes were solemn, while Eranikus looked relaxed.
"Rest easy, Dick. As long as he isn't in this temple, Hakkar poses far less of a threat than you imagine. If Hakkar still hasn't learned his lesson, I wouldn't mind stretching my limbs. Azeroth isn't somewhere just anyone calling himself an Old God can come whenever he pleases. Stop worrying about Hakkar."
Seeing Eranikus so full of confidence, Dick couldn't help remembering how, back in the Emerald Dream, this fellow had become the Dream Tyrant and sent Tyrande's party fleeing in panic with only half his power. At last, he breathed a sigh of relief.
With Eranikus's assurance, he really didn't need to worry much about that ugly Old God descending, at least for the time