An hour went by in the arena, and the fighting stopped in a strange way, like storms do before the worst comes.
The gods had pulled back a little, not leaving, but taking a step back to think. As Valthor stood at the far end of the arena, divine energy gathered around him like static before lightning.
Kael'thas walked around the First Forge from a distance, her eyes taking note of structural flaws with the skill of a master craftsman looking at a rival's work.
Moira stayed completely still. Her threads reached out, but they weren't actively reading anymore; they were just keeping their connection to everyone else in the room.
Since Moira told Greg about the threads, he hadn't moved from near Bork. He had been trying to figure out the problem with the Key of Infinite Possibility by staring at it the same way he stared at things he couldn't understand.
