After an unknown amount of time, the unconscious Andreas finally opened his eyes once more.
"Ugh!"
As he shifted his body slightly, a sharp pain radiating from his right wing and chest instantly drenched him in cold sweat, forcing him to stop moving. Maintaining a stiff, prone position, Andreas dazedly lifted his head to look around.
Where am I? And...
Looking down to inspect his body, Andreas discovered to his wordless dismay that he was still in his crow form. His right wing and parts of his body had been wrapped in bandages, and a strong scent of medicinal herbs wafted from beneath them.
Someone saved me?
Recalling that terrifying beam of highly compressed Fel energy from earlier, Andreas still felt a lingering fear. His survival instinct had triggered a thin Shadow Shield the moment the attack hit, barely absorbing the impact for a fraction of a second.
It was that mere fraction of a second that gave Andreas the chance to adjust his posture, allowing him to escape with his life at the cost of severe injuries. Had he taken a direct hit from that beam, it would have surely been certain death.
Although he had luckily escaped the worst-case scenario, given the tiny body of a crow at the time, he had lost consciousness the instant he was hit. He had no memory of what happened afterward.
Through this sudden crisis, Andreas first confirmed one piece of information: a Druid does not revert to their original form if they lose consciousness while transformed.
By observing the interior decorations, Andreas preliminarily determined that his savior was likely someone of high status, possibly a Highborne. This single room, at least 200 square meters in size, was sumptuously decorated.
Soft pink wool carpets, purple gauze curtains draped over an exquisite bed smelling of lavender, a magic broom cleaning the room on its own, and even an arcane quill pen writing automatically on the desk—these were not items an ordinary commoner could possess.
Based on the color scheme of the furniture, the owner of this room was likely a female... or perhaps a rugged man with the heart of a young girl.
Currently, the owner was not in the room. The injured Andreas had been placed on a windowsill where he could bathe directly in the moonlight, and his savior had even thoughtfully placed a soft cushion beneath him.
He tried to flap his wings, but the intense pain forced him to stop.
No, in this state, I can't move freely at all.
Before clarifying the current situation, Andreas did not intend to rashly revert to his original form. He didn't know why Archimonde had suddenly targeted him, but since the demon lord had discovered his tracks, Andreas surmised that the Burning Legion would surely have follow-up actions.
I don't know how I escaped safely from the Burning Legion's follow-up moves, but it most likely has a direct connection to the owner of this room. I must find a chance to thank her properly.
Since he couldn't move for the time being, Andreas simply continued to lie like a salted fish on the soft cushion. Looking up at the moon, he estimated the time he had been unconscious based on the lunar phases.
I remember it was shortly after the full moon when I reached Zin-Azshari. Based on the current state... I've probably been unconscious for three to five days?
While time was a cheap resource for immortal Night Elves, that only applied to peaceful periods where nothing was happening. The Resistance led by Jarod and the Burning Legion had already been in a standoff before he left; by now, both sides might have already lost their restraint and started fighting. Moreover, the longer Tyrande, his rescue target, remained trapped in the palace, the weaker Elune's protection would become until it vanished entirely.
And then there's Shandris.
Andreas was deeply concerned about his childhood friend's safety. I wonder if the diplomatic mission successfully bypassed the Zandalari mountains and entered Pandaria.
Despite the urgent need for information, the heavily injured Andreas could not even move freely. He could do nothing but force himself to calm down, wait for the room's owner to return, and see if he could learn anything useful from her.
Fortunately, the wait was not long.
About ten minutes later, Andreas heard faint movement outside through the heavy mahogany doors. Soft footsteps approached, the gait rhythmic and precise, sounding as if every step had been measured.
A muffled and heavily distorted voice came from outside the door, "Young Mistress, welcome back."
Another female voice, also somewhat unclear but calm, replied, "Mhm. What is the schedule from here?"
"A distinguished guest is visiting at 3:00 AM. The Master hopes you will join him in the parlor to receive the guest."
"Ah... I remember now. Fine, I'll go. You may leave for now; let me rest for a while."
"Yes. Please go in."
Clunk!
The heavy door opened, and footsteps slowly entered the room. From Andreas' angle, he could only see a pair of small blue leather shoes.
"Whew~"
Once the door closed, the owner of the shoes let out a long sigh of relief. In a complete departure from her previous dignified manner, she kicked off her shoes and hurried over with a leap, letting out a satisfied groan as she threw herself onto the soft bed.
"Ugh~ I'm exhausted. What 'social etiquette'? Boring and annoying."
Now Andreas could finally hear her voice clearly. The crisp, slightly youthful female voice provided a rough estimate of the room owner's age.
A daughter of a Highborne family? Judging by the voice, she's probably... 10 to 13 years old?
Although Night Elves possessed long or even infinite lifespans, their physical maturation cycle was no different from the humans Andreas knew. They reached adulthood around 16 to 18 years old, after which they entered a nearly endless peak period.
Placed facing the window, it was difficult for Andreas to turn around and see the girl's full appearance without being able to move freely. However, based on her self-muttering complaints, this child was likely in the rebellious phase that was hardest for elders to manage.
"Huh?"
The girl rolled around on the bed for a while before finally noticing that Andreas' posture was different from before. Letting out a sound of curiosity, she jumped off the bed. Her small, bare feet pitter-pattered across the soft carpet as she ran to the windowsill. Andreas gradually saw the girl's face clearly.
It was exactly as he had guessed. She looked to be around 12 years old, with a delicate face still showing a bit of baby fat. One could already see the beauty she would possess as an adult—the kind that would likely attract a swarm of admirers.
"Ooh!"
The little girl pointed at Andreas in surprise and cried out, "Little crow, you're finally awake! Can you move?"
"Caw~"
Andreas: "..."