A Savage Nature (Warcraft)

“Tyrande.”
 
Tensing up, Tyrande Whisperwind raises her head, immediately straightening her spine and squaring her shoulders as Cenarius approaches her. Luckily she doesn’t have to hastily wipe her face clean of tears or anything like that. But the only reason that’s the case is because she has no tears left to shed. She’s drained herself dry over the past couple of days, ever since Illidan’s release turned into such a disaster.
 
She had always known that freeing Illidan wouldn’t truly assuage her guilt over being too late to save Malfurion. However, she couldn’t help but feel like she’d compounded her failure with more failure when he’d died. Even if Illidan didn’t blame her in the end, even if they managed to slay that monster Arthas and free his victims, the demon hunter included, from that blade of his… it didn’t really change anything.
 
Still…
 
“Lord Cenarius.”
 
Rising to her feet, Tyrande bows her head slightly as Cenarius stops in front of her. The Lord of the Forest sighs, offering a sympathetic, acknowledging smile as he gives her a simple nod in turn.
 
“I thought it best we speak of both what has happened and what must happen next, High Priestess. First and foremost, I am not sure if you have been told yet… but the corruption of Ashenvale has been stopped. With the assistance of Chieftain Rognak as well as Archdruid Staghelm and Druid Bearmantle, we were able to hunt down the source of the corruption, using the information that the Death Knight gave to Illidan before his death.”
 
Oh. That was… good. Tyrande knew she should be happy to hear that. It sounded like they’d dealt a grievous blow to the demons’ plans. But in the end, she couldn’t help wondering why Cenarius was telling her about it.
 
“The artifact that the Legion was using to corrupt our forests was called the Skull of Gul’dan. We destroyed it and in doing so summoned it’s Master… a dreadlord known as Tichondrius the Darkener. We were able to ambush him and destroy him once and for all… but not before he admitted in his final moments that it was he who commanded the Scourge forces who hunted Malfurion down in his Barrow Den.”
 
Cenarius hesitates for a moment as Tyrande processes this information in silence. Then, the Forest Demigod dips his head, showing a bit of his own grief over her mate’s death in the gesture.
 
“I thought you might wish to know. The true architect behind Malfurion’s fate has been slain. The Archdruid has been avenged.”
 
Good. That was… good. Tyrande finds it in herself to adopt a half-smile and gives the Lord of the Forest an appreciative nod. No doubt realizing that this was all he was going to get from her, Cenarius pauses for only a moment before continuing on.
 
“With that out of the way, we must discuss our next steps. The Defiler’s forces have been weakened by this loss, but not enough to truly give him pause. Archimonde and his Legion and Scourge armies still make for their ultimate target… the World Tree, Nordrassil. No doubt, the Defiler intends to drain the World Tree of its power. Enough power that it might allow him to bring his dark master Sargeras into this world at long last.”
 
Tyrande’s breath hitches and for a moment she’s thrown back in time, all the way to the War of the Ancients and the Sundering. When Sargeras last tried to enter Azeroth. When he was stopped by the efforts of a ragtag group of freedom fighters who turned against their Queen. With Malfurion at her side and warriors like Broxigar willing to give his life to the task of saving their world, they had put an end to it back then.
 
Malfurion was gone now… but they had hundreds just like Broxigar fighting at their side. The orcs might have been a savage, short-lived race… but Tyrande had to admit, she could appreciate all they had done for her people in such a short amount of time. They were a kick in the ass to shake off their long slumber and get things going again.
 
Rognak in particular had been good for Shandris. Tyrande can’t help but think of the orc druid somewhat fondly. He was a savage beast of a creature in battle, but a gentle giant out of combat. He was good for Shandris, even if her adoptive daughter still refused to admit that there was anything between them but pure, physical attraction. His and Shandris’ relationship was a bright spot in Tyrande’s black and gloomy life at the moment, even as she watched them interact from afar.
 
Regardless, she was letting herself get distracted. Cenarius was speaking to her as the Lord of the Forest speaking to the High Priestess of Elune. She needed to focus on the matter at hand. Looking into Cenarius’ eyes, Tyrande clenches her hands into fists, shoring up her resolve.
 
“How do we stop him, Lord Cenarius? What is our plan?”
 
Here, the Forest Demigod adopts an almost sorrowful smile. It sends a thrill of worry through Tyrande, even before he speaks and confirms that she had every right to be worried.
 
“… The Defiler, as he is now, is beyond even me. Even with his forces weakened, so long as he has two armies facing us, we are outnumbered. The Scourge represent a multiplying threat as well. For every one of ours that falls, another of theirs rises to fight on their side. If we attempt to make a stand and simply try and weather his siege at the foot of Nordrassil in the hopes that we will run his strength dry… we will fail. Our enemies’ strength is unfortunately endless at this point.”
 
Tyrande stares at Cenarius with wide eyes.
 
“What… what are you saying? That it’s hopeless? That we should just give up?”
 
The thought makes her bristle, and for the first time in her memory, she finds herself glaring at the Lord of the Forest.
 
“This is unlike you, Lord Cenarius! To speak in such fatalistic terms… there must be something we can do!”
 
There’s a pause as Cenarius looks at her in sorrow… before a hint of a smile cracks through his expression.
 
“There is, High Priestess. Apologies for dragging out my explanation, but I must admit… it is good to see that your warrior spirit can still be drawn out of you.”
 
Tyrande gapes for a moment, before puffing her cheeks out in anger at the realization that he’s effectively played her. Certainly, he got her thinking about something else besides her own heartache for a moment. He’d broken her free of her spiral of self-pity and self-loathing and forced her to confront the true problem at hand. Many more than just her people were counting on her at this point. Tyrande would not falter. Not now.
 
Letting out a huff, the Priestess of Elune crosses her arms over her chest, giving Cenarius a significant look that he doesn’t even have the good grace to look sheepish at. Instead, his smile widens ever so slightly… though it still has a tinge of sorrow to it even now. They’ve both lost… so much.
 
“I must admit, the plan is not one I would have come up with on my own. However… I have been in contact with your mate via my connection to the Emerald Dream.”
 
Tyrande’s eyes widen at that, and she freezes in place as Cenarius continues on despite noting her reaction.
 
“Malfurion’s plan, as insane as it might sound… is truly our only path forward, Tyrande. Archimonde’s forces are endless, and even were I to take the field myself, we would eventually be overrun and Nordrassil lost. And if Nordrassil is lost, the rest of Kalimdor and all of Azeroth is soon lost with it. However… however, the Defiler’s obsession with making it to the World Tree is also an opportunity for a trap.”
 
A trap. Tyrande finds herself pushing past thoughts of Malfurion for a moment and leaning forward as she listens intently to what Cenarius is saying.
 
“To defeat Archimonde, we will make a show of protecting Nordrassil from him. If we do not take a stand, he will grow too suspicious and might realize our true goal… which will in fact be to destroy Nordrassil and use its destruction to take him with it just before he can achieve his goals.”
 
It takes her a second to properly process what Cenarius has said. Destroy… Nordrassil? Hmph, the Lord of the Forest is right. Only someone as daft and mad as her mate could sometimes be, would come up with such an insane plan. Indeed, Tyrande’s first reaction is shock and horror at the thought.
 
“If Nordrassil dies… we lose our immortality. My people… the Night Elves will age as the mortal races do. Age and die from time itself, rather than any other cause.”
 
Cenarius’ eyes close for a moment and he nods his head mournfully. Nordrassil’s destruction won’t harm him of course, his own nature comes from his connection to the Emerald Dream itself. But the Night Elf people, Tyrande’s people… they will grow old and die as any mortal would.
 
Tyrande’s second reaction is to be a little… intrigued by the idea. She’s not one for suicidal thoughts. Even if she didn’t have Illidan’s final words to latch onto for support, Tyrande wasn’t going to kill herself any time soon. However, the thought of having to live forever without Malfurion by her side HAD crossed her mind more than once by this point, and it was safe to say she wasn’t at all excited by the prospect.
 
If Nordrassil had to be destroyed for them to have a chance at killing Archimonde… then maybe it was for the best. Maybe she wouldn’t mind having a mortal lifespan after over ten thousand years of living.
 
“I know this might be difficult for you to accept Priestess, but it’s the only way. Perhaps… perhaps I could arrange for you to speak to Malfurion, and he could convince you. I offered before to facilitate conversation between the two of you, but you denied me. Would you accept the offer now, I wonder?”
 
Tyrande blinks, suddenly beset by an all new set of emotions. Dread mixed with yearning assaults her senses as she lets out a shuddering breath. She’s leaning towards rejecting Cenarius a second time when a thought suddenly comes to her.
 
“… Has he been watching us all this time?”
 
Here, Cenarius winces… and ultimately shakes his head.
 
“No. Even unmoored from this world, his duties in the Emerald Dream will continue unabated for as long as he lasts. He has not been able to focus on the events taking place here, not with how oddly time moves in the Dream. I have… informed him of the broader strokes of the situation, which is why he was able to come up with his somewhat… unorthodox plan for us.”
 
Tyrande listens to what Cenarius is saying… and also what he ISN’T saying. Pressing her lips together in a thin line, she narrows her eyes at the Forest Demigod.
 
“He does not know Illidan is dead, does he?”
 
The Lord of the Forest… looks away.
 
“No, he does not.”
 
And with that, Tyrande finds the strength to address her mate, despite her failure to save him. If she didn’t know that his true killer was dead and he’d been avenged, she might not have been able to do it. But that combined with the knowledge that SOMEONE needed to let Malfurion know Illidan was dead… letting out an explosive sigh, Tyrande nods sharply.
 
“Do it. I will speak with Malfurion… alone. Once you have brought him to me, please leave us to talk in private.”
 
“… As you wish, High Priestess.”
 
The Lord of the Forest swirls a hand of branches and Tyrande watches right before her eyes as glowing green motes of light begin to coalesce, coming from the ground and the trees around them. Bit by bit, a verdant green after-image of her beloved forms itself. Malfurion Stormrage stands before her, but not in the flesh. He stands before her as a ghostly, spectral figure, albeit different from Illidan’s in that he is clearly of Nature, of the Emerald Dream.
 
“Tyrande…”
 
“Malfurion…”
 
Cenarius bows his head one last time and leaves them to talk. For a moment, Tyrande doesn’t know what to say. And so of course, Malfurion fills the silence.
 
“Tyrande, my beloved. You must know that I do not blame you for my fate. These… Scourge that the Legion have created came for me and my brothers and sisters while we slept. Dishonorable, monstrous foes one and all. I can tell just by looking at you that it’s eating you up inside. But you could not have known. You-!”
 
“Illidan is dead.”
 
Malfurion goes still at that, at Tyrande’s first words to him other than his name. He falls silent and it all spills out of her in a rush.
 
“I was not the first to advocate for freeing him from his imprisonment, but I did not stop them either. You were lost to us, and we needed allies. Unfortunately… unfortunately, Illidan did as he is like to do and ran off on his own. He was slain by a Death Knight who we killed in turn, but while we were able to free Illidan’s soul from the undead’s monstrous blade, it was still too late.”
 
Silence falls as she finally stops talking. Tyrande waits, expecting Malfurion to be angry with her. To maybe even cut off the connection prematurely. She wants him to yell at her. To hate her even a fraction of much as she hates herself. But instead…
 
“I understand. Tyrande, you must know-!”
 
“Damn your understanding, Malfurion!”
 
She doesn’t let him finish his sentence. She imagines it will end something like ‘you must know it’s not your fault’ but the fact is… she doesn’t. She doesn’t know that. It sure as hell FEELS like her fault.
 
“Your brother is dead! And you are lost! I bear some part of the blame for both of your fates! If I had been a little quicker, if I had turned my eyes North when I had the chance, perhaps I could have saved you! And Illidan… you and I both know I could have brought Illidan to heel. Of everyone in the world, I might be the only one he would ever have listened to! But fool that I am, I did not try. And in the end, I failed him just as I failed you!”
 
Another pause as Malfurion watches her rant and rave, letting her get it all out. This time, by the end, Tyrande is panting heavily, and tears are once again pricking at her eyes. It would seem she still had some left after all…
 
Once it’s clear she’s finished, Malfurion lets out a soft sigh and steps forward. He can’t touch her as he is right now, but he still reaches for her, brushing his ephemeral green hands along her arms. For a moment, she can almost close her eyes and feel him. Almost.
 
“Tyrande… I can see how much you blame yourself and I know I cannot convince you otherwise, not now. But know this… I do not blame you for my or Illidan’s fates. And in time, I hope that you will learn to do the same. Until then… stay strong for me, please. Never give up. Never give in. And… if possible, learn to live without me. Even if only for the rest of a mortal lifespan.”
 
Tyrande can’t help a small watery smile at that. That’s right. Cenarius had summoned Malfurion in the first place to convince Tyrande of their plan, but Tyrande hadn’t even brought it up. Her beloved knew her quite well and must have realized that she was already on board. Indeed… if destroying Nordrassil was the only way to save this world, then so be it. She and her people would make that sacrifice.
 
“Malfurion, I-!”
 
But before she can get the words out, her beloved begins to flicker and fade.
 
“Tyrande, apologies… but it seems our time is up. I do not know if we will get to speak again before I dissipate into the Dream. But know this… I will always love you, no matter what form my existence takes.”
 
Tyrande’s breath hitches and she reaches out to Malfurion’s ghostly face.
 
“And I you, beloved…”
 
She gets the words out just in time… and then he’s gone. Tyrande stares after him for only a moment before an expression of pure determination spreads across her features. Funny that his final words for her were so similar to Illidan’s. Never stop fighting. Never give up. Never give in.
 
… For the Stormrage Brothers, she would just have to do her best. The Defiler had to be stopped. The Legion would be thrust from this world once more. This… this Tyrande vowed.

-x-X-x-

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