Somewhere under Mount Hyjal.
Five sentient beings were slowly making their way through the earth and rock, with every meter getting closer and closer to the goal of their underground journey. The members of the team assembled to destroy the source of the Fel in Nordrassil did not bother with choosing a route: they were all far from being minor mages and knew no problems with creating their own passage. Moreover, one of its participants was none other than the legendary demigod, whose physical body possessed considerable size and four hooves—limbs that were least suited for a walk through caves of natural origin. So they essentially had no choice but to pave their own way down.
The amount of mana spent on ensuring the convenience of the route for their four-legged companion was incomparably small compared to the mages' reserves. But after all, besides Cenarius, a pair of representatives of the Blue Dragonflight had joined the ranks of the World Tree's saviors. And here we were not talking about some dragonoids, whose dimensions were quite comparable to the son of Elune, but about full-fledged sentient flying lizards, whose length, measured in "demigods," reached more than ten "goats." In short, having weighed all the pros and cons, the team made a collective decision that Madrigosa and Kalecgos—the very dragons whom the Magic Aspect had dispatched to help the elves—would trudge on their own two feet in humanoid form.
By the way, if the choice of Kalecgos—Malygos's de facto rival—as a companion could be explained in two words as "hope he perishes," then Madrigosa, despite being listed as Kalecgos's constant partner, was actually the most loyal ally of the current head of the flight. Therefore, imagining her in the role of "expendable material" was quite difficult for any individual privy to the internal intrigues of the Blue Dragonflight. However, neither Tyrande, nor Malfurion, nor even Cenarius considered themselves among the latter, and so the composition of the group was simply accepted as a fact.
The deeper the spiral of the tunnel being laid went, the more palpable the emanations of the Void became, and the more doubts were born in the minds of the participants.
"We are almost there," Malfurion Stormrage suddenly stopped. "We are not unfledged hundred-year-old youths who rush forward headlong. I suggest we prepare."
The process of exchanging glances and nods did not drag on for long, and the mages began to intensely practice spellcasting, thereby increasing the chances of a favorable outcome in case of unforeseen situations...
...And it is worth noting that when the newly formed tunnel led them into another cavity of natural origin, all their preparations turned out to be quite timely. A cave that looked ordinary, like a good dozen they had passed, turned into a trap as soon as the "spelunkers" reached its center. Just at once, the space around was flooded by The Darkness and, without delay, it closed its tight tentacles around the magical shields, which immediately flickered from the load. Inside the protective barriers, thin filaments—smaller brethren of the appendages breaking the shields—were busy. But the suddenness of the attack and the use of the Ancient One's favorite trick—distracting the enemy with a direct strike and, attacking stealthily, seizing Mind Control over the opponent—did not bring the expected result.
Surprisingly, the most prepared for the attacks turned out to be the priestess of Elune. A blinding flash flared, especially against the background of the surrounding gloom, a hiss was heard, and a free area formed around the participants of the expedition.
A holy place is never empty, as the enemy did not fail to remind them, quickly restoring its losses on the battlefield; however, the other members of the group managed to take advantage of the moment of respite and joined the confrontation. Multi-colored flashes of spells sparkled, but the effect turned out to be near zero: the mages did not want to risk using truly serious magic, because otherwise the consequences of using such charms could affect the integrity of the ceiling in the worst way. Meanwhile, the pressure on the shields increased and increased, and soon it became obvious to everyone that the one who had encroached on the sacred Tree, and also attacked the five mages, was precisely the aforementioned N'Zoth, and not just some ordinary, albeit strong, messenger of the Void.
Having failed to take the invaders under control, the attacker was not upset in the least. Ten thousand years had passed since the day of the memorable but unsuccessful attempt to capture Illidan Stormrage, who was the only specimen of Sargeras's unique magic. During this time, even a monkey is capable of learning to knock down bananas with a stick—what can one say about a god who personified the Void itself, even if on the level of Azeroth alone. In short, it was not surprising that N'Zoth had a couple of new tricks in reserve... and this time he did not plan to engage in long ceremonies.
The tentacles clinging to Kalecgos's protective sphere suddenly tensed and, straightening, jerked back, remaining in contact with the protective magic only with the very tip. A convulsion ran through the "needles" of the resulting "hedgehog," changing their color. Black at the base of the emitted cloud, they gradually turned gray, at some point passing from light gray to light blue, and closer to the end into a full-fledged blue color, merging with the dragon's azure sphere. Now the tip turns into a suction cup like an octopus tentacle, and then as if someone grabbed the tentacles in a fist, thus gathering them into a bundle, and jerked to the side. The ordered weave of the power lines of the universal mana shield, hitherto considered a reliable defense as long as a single drop of mana remained in it, crumpled and flew off like a shriveled bedspread in the direction of the jerk, quickly disintegrating into individual scraps and grains of energy. The dragon, not expecting such a dirty trick, was immediately wrapped in a cocoon of gloom, from which a cry of pain erupted.
Events immediately began to race. The enemy applied similar manipulations with tentacles to the remaining members of the "tree-saving" expedition. And if the elves entered the confrontation, concentrating all their attention on defense, then Madrigosa, enraged by the attack on her kin, did not pay attention to the enemy's attempts to deprive her of protection, because she turned into a dragon, and the tiny protective sphere compared to her true form disintegrated by itself, leaving her under the protection of her scales. A stream of dragon flame bursting from her maw rapidly engulfed the cocoon with Kalecgos, along the way considerably clearing the cave of dark emanations.
The true fire grazed Cenarius as well, but the demigod only rejoiced at this circumstance, for the ally had incinerated a good half of the bundle of tentacles playing tug-of-war with him. The remaining part of the suction cups could no longer compete with the Master of Nature, and he dealt with them, releasing a swarm of green lights from his hand, which exploded into caustic splashes upon contact with the Void, literally melting their almost direct antagonist with the power of Life Magic.
The loss of several targets allowed N'Zoth to devote more attention to the remaining pair. Thin needles of darkness rushed toward the shields, which were trembling from overstrain, attempting to pierce the defense by creating pressure in different places. At the same time, the tentacles of the Gloom, so successfully adapting to someone else's power, also increased the pressure in an attempt to tear off the protective covering. Seeing this, Cenarius abandoned attempts to hold the spreading structure of the portal being created and with both hands doused his comrades with fireflies, which showed themselves from the best side.
At the same time, remains that by definition could not be considered alive tumbled out of the fire-torn cocoon. Madrigosa, giving in to rage at the sight of her fallen kin, tried to flood the entire cave with flame. In the end, when the dragoness was exhausted, it turned out that her goal had not been achieved, but instead the other members of the group fell under the friendly fire. And if Cenarius easily reflected the undirected attack, and for Tyrande this rash decision of Madrigosa helped to get rid of the tentacles just as Cenarius himself had done earlier, then for the representative of the Blue Dragonflight and Malfurion Stormrage, the flash of rage cost them dearly.
The Great Druid chose an inopportune moment to show ingenuity and the talent of a mage and in some clever way transformed the defense into a fine-meshed net, which hacked the appendages of The Darkness into non-viable pieces. However, this action required him to apply significant strength, and therefore the subsequent fire wave caught him by surprise, and the mage, burning alive and desperately resisting it, screamed loudly.
Madrigosa had similar problems. Having spent too much mana on the attempt to avenge her kin, she turned out to be unable to worthily meet the new wave of Void emanations that flooded toward her from the corners of the cave, which had remained a refuge for the Gloom despite the past fiery Gehenna. A dragon's roar wove into the elf's screams.
Now the favorite of Elune gave vent to his anger. A simple-looking staff, appearing from nowhere, pressed its end against the floor, and from the point of contact, a light-green wave surged in all directions, then another, and another. A scent of fresh foliage spread through the cave, drowning out the vomit-inducing miasmas. And though Life, in its manifestation in reality, resembled Fel in color, its effect was the opposite. However, this did not apply to the Void, for which both Chaos and Life were unfriendly entities. Natural Magic, whose source of power was the element of water, also successfully coped with primordial fire.
It seemed the remaining trio could celebrate victory, but Cenarius, being the source of energy for the forming waves, felt that very little of that energy remained in him, a demigod. He would even say catastrophically little, if such a statement didn't reek of defeatist thoughts. Continuing to hold the staff—the focusing link—with one hand, Cenarius strained considerably, but was finally able to overcome the blockade of spatial spells set up by N'Zoth and create a portal for retreating from the trap on the territory controlled by the emanations of Life.
"Tyrande! Take Malfurion Stormrage and go!"
The girl, already leaning over her moaning husband and casting healing spells on him, started, but suppressing her emotions, she followed the command. With unwomanly strength, she scooped up her other half and rushed toward the portal.
N'Zoth clearly did not like that the trap, which had just snapped shut, had pried its jaws open. The pressure of the Void intensified on all fronts; the section of the cave subject to the power of the spring forest began to rapidly lose ground. Furthermore, to hold the flickering portal, the teacher of the Druids had to divert significant forces to stabilize it. This led to the spot where Mandrigosa was trying to recover falling back under the enemy's control. A small whirlwind of blue snowflakes halted the advance of the Murk and allowed the dragon to return to her Elf form and dash toward the portal.
Cenarius, seeing that seconds were counting down, made a decision and, releasing the staff, concentrated on the portal. With an effort of will, fixing the oscillating flows of Mana of the spatial spells in one position, he tossed the hurrying Tyrande along with her burden into it with a wave of his hand. Then he tried to repeat the same trick with his ally, but just as Mandrigosa, caught by a gust of wind, crossed the window, the latter wavered and unexpectedly collapsed. The enemy, drawing strength from the Source among other things, finally overcame the demigod's resistance and put an end to the prolonged battle.
A spark of realization flashed in Cenarius's eyes, and grabbing the staff—which had not even thought of falling—and thereby regaining lost control over the spell of Great Peace, he began to mutter something, preparing for something.
"I will not make the same mistake a second time," the voice of the Old God who had attacked the group rang out in the cave for the first time since the start of the battle. "You will be mine."
A single target, moreover greatly weakened by the past fight, found itself paralyzed by the appendages of Murk clutching at it. Whatever the descendant of the Goddess Elune planned to do, he did not have time...
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Meanwhile, at the foot of Mount Hyjal.
The unstable portal literally spat two Elves out of itself. Turning around, Tyrande noticed the dragon rushing after them behind the frame of the transition, but Cenarius's spell simply fell apart into ragged shreds of mist. The High Priestess resumed treating her husband, occasionally monitoring the area for threats. The fate of Mandrigosa and Cenarius, who remained below, stayed unknown.
"How did it end?" Malfurion Stormrage asked as soon as he woke up.
"We lost. You saw for yourself what happened to Kalecgos. Mandrigosa and Cenarius stayed there, but..." the dejected girl couldn't even find words regarding the teacher's chances of getting out of such a mess. "We greatly underestimated the danger."
"More like overestimated our strength," the frowning Druid winced, and it wasn't from pain—at least, certainly not physical pain.
"Yes, cursed Azshara was right," the Elf squeezed out with effort. It was not easy for Tyrande to admit her rival's correctness. "We should have been more careful with N'Zoth..."
At that moment, as if deliberately aggravating the depth of the Queen's correctness, a serious change occurred in the global flow of Mana. It was so global that it was impossible not to notice. Especially being high mages. Especially being practically a step away from the source of these very changes.
The Great Tree Nordrassil stopped nourishing the planet with life-giving force. On the contrary—now a black hole seemed to have appeared at the summit of Mount Hyjal, which began to inexorably suck in every possible scrap of natural energy, not only ownerless scraps but also not shying away from trying to take Mana that already belonged to something or someone. It was as if the former Source had abruptly changed its sign from plus to minus. And while trying to take controlled energy from a mage is a non-trivial task, regarding other possessors of Mana, things were not so categorical...
The effect began to tell especially strongly on the surrounding forest as an area located too close to the center of the disaster. The Elves saw a visual reaction to the changes immediately: the leaf fall that began in the middle of summer left not a shadow of a chance for any misunderstanding of the situation. And though Tyrande could not see the World Tree from the forest, she was ready to swear on her favorite bow that the giant's coloring no longer matched an evergreen tree. Surely, other colors had been significantly added there, with more... black tones.
"I have a feeling Malygos didn't tell us everything..." the first thing Tyrande remembered after coming out of her stupor was the Magic Aspect's persistent attempts to send them to deal with the desecration of the Tree.
"We'll deal with that later," the man mused for a moment on his wife's words. "For now, we have a more vital question on the agenda... What do we do, considering that Elves are no longer welcome here?"
***
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