Illidan lay on the crude wooden bed, his eyes wide open and his breathing much weaker. Every few minutes, he struggled through several coughs. After taking the energy blast at the heart of that explosion, the Demon Hunter had barely a sliver of life left when Dick rescued him. Had Dick been a treacherous scoundrel and finished him off then, Illidan would have had no recourse.
Fortunately, the two were on fairly good terms, and Dick was a man of principles, so no such melodrama occurred.
Still, the atmosphere in the room was rather delicate. On another bed not far from Illidan, the Warden lay swathed in bandages, in even worse shape than he was and still unconscious. Maiev had been less than a meter from Illidan at the time and had taken that massive explosion almost from beginning to end.
And it was not just Maiev. Of everyone who had been fighting to the death on the Dalaran Platform, almost all had suffered serious injuries except Tyrande, who had been protected by moonlight! The casualties had been devastating!
In fact, had Arthas and his group not suffered equally grievous injuries and fled in panic, the righteous forces of the Northern Frontier might well have been wiped out in that confrontation.
Old Mograine, who was in relatively good condition, had been taken back to Light's Hope Chapel by the Paladins. After the battle, Tyrande had quietly returned to Mount Hyjal with Malfurion, who had been caught in the blast. Quel'Thalas's forces had emerged the most intact, and after discussing the handover of Stratholme with Dick, Kael'thas had soon returned to Sunstrider Isle as well.
Uther and his follower Thassarian had also vanished without a trace.
And so this great commotion ended quietly.
When the first rays of sunlight fell upon