Thrall squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to let himself fall.Thrall, who was once the chief of the great tribe, is now as ordinary as the other shamans standing beside him.In the roaring sea, this protruding reef looks pitifully small.The ground under their feet trembled and struggled in pain. Not long ago, Deathwing, the mad dragon guardian broke through the barrier and returned to Azeroth, leaving a huge scar on the world.For those who haven't lost their minds, Azeroth can still be saved, but it will never be the same again. In the center of the world, there is a place called the Maelstrom.It used to be hidden underground for many years, but now it has been pushed to the surface.Those who are trying their best to save this crumbling world gather here.

These shamans are the most powerful members of the Earthen Ring.They delegated important responsibilities and missions to others and came here.A single person is weak, but many people, especially those as skilled and wise as they are, can form a tower. There are many shamans, standing alone, or in pairs, or in groups of three or four.They raised their hands in a gesture that seemed to be an order or a request.At the same time, they also need to do their best to stay on their feet and not be shaken by the shaking of the ground.Their bodies are separated, but their spirits are closely connected.They closed their eyes tightly, immersed in the process of casting healing spells.

The shamans are trying to appease the earth elementals while encouraging them to heal themselves.Yes, it was the elementals that got hurt, not these shamans, but the elementals were much stronger than the shamans had.If it can really appease the earth long enough, it can hopefully use its boundless power to restore it.But the earth, the stone, the soil, and even the very backbone of Azeroth are dealing with another wound: betrayal.You know, Deathwing, the king of the black dragon, was originally called Neltharion, and he was once the guardian of the earth.He was appointed to protect the land while guarding its secrets.Now, Deathwing didn't care what the ground felt.He shreds the world at will and frantically, oblivious to the chaos and pain he brings.

The heartbroken earth is still shaking violently. "Keep your ground, keep your faith!" Even amidst the trembling rumble of the ground under his feet and the roar of the raging waves that were always trying to knock them down, this voice was still very clear to Thrall.It was Nobundo's voice.Nobundo was a Broken One and the first of his kind to become a shaman.This time it was his turn to lead the ceremony, and so far he had done it perfectly. "Open your heart for your brothers and sisters! Feel, feel, see the spirit of life in them, blooming like fire!" Thrall stands on a newly formed rock.Standing beside him was Agra, a member of the Mag'har and a descendant of the Frostwolf clan.She and Thrall met in Nagrand and fell in love ever since.She was brown, with reddish-brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and shaved the rest of the way.Her strong hands gripped Thrall.They are not playing house now, they are saving the whole world.

They stand bravely on the edge of the cliff.The strong wind stirred the water below, causing the waves to crash against the rough rocks, making a hollow and muffled sound.Everything needs to be quiet before healing can begin, and this is a rather risky choice. Thrall felt his muscles tighten.He's trying to hold himself together.There are so many things he needs to cooperate: to stand firm in the wild land, to not fall under the threat of hungry waves and sharp stones, while trying to find the balance of inner peace so that he can be with him. Other shamans communicate on a deep level.If the shaman is skilled and prepared, the spirit of life can enter this balance—the energy by which the shaman is able to approach the elements, interact with them, and unite with others of their kind.

Thrall could feel them trying to get closer to him.Their essence is like an oasis in the chaos, peaceful and peaceful.And he is struggling to get into the depths of his heart.With his effort, Thrall controlled his breathing.He didn't want his breath to be too shallow or too fast, that would only make his body feel uneasy and worried.Instead, he kept taking deep breaths, savoring the salty air. Nose in... mouth out...over the feet, close to the earth, connected with the heart.Hold on to Agra, don't hold on too tight.Close your eyes and let your mind fly.Find the center, and then, find the peace.Link that peace to others.

Thrall's hands were sweating profusely.His center of gravity shifted a bit.In an instant, he slipped.Soon he asked, tried to take another deep breath, and began to find the center posture.But it seems that his body has a consciousness of its own and doesn't want to obey Thrall's command.It wants to fight, it wants to do something, not just stand here and take a deep breath and keep calm.he-- There came a sudden flash, so bright that even an orc with his eyes shut could see it.The lightning struck so close that the crackling sound was deafening.Followed by a deep rumbling sound, the earth trembled more violently.The ground under the feet of a goblin and a dwarf was shattered by the previous lightning strike.Screaming, they clung to each other and the shamans on either side, teetering over the waves and boulders.Thrall opened his eyes, seeing this in time.

"Hold on!" the tauren yelled, clutching the goblin's hand.When his hooves were ready, he began to pull back.Draenei, who was holding the dwarf next to him, did the same.The two shamans were finally safe, gasping for breath. "Back, back!" Nobundo shouted. "Go to the shelter—quick!" His urging seemed redundant as a nearby rock crumbled to pieces.Orcs, tauren, trolls, goblins, dwarves and draenei all ran towards their mounts.Thunder and lightning flashed in the air, and big raindrops hit the shaman.Mounting their still trembling mounts, they ordered to return to the shelter built on a larger rocky reef.Thrall waited until Agra mounted his flying mount before ordering his wyvern into the air.

In fact, the refuge can only be regarded as a temporary shack, built in as inland as possible, and set up a protective barrier for protection.Whether single or in pairs, shamans have their own huts.The huts formed a circle, enclosing an open ceremony venue.The Sanctuary Ward protects the shaman from angry elements, such as lightning, although the ground beneath them may still crack open.But no matter where the shaman is, the threat is always there. Thrall arrived at his hut first.He raised the bear-skin curtain to let Agra in, then let go and tied the curtain dead.The rain was pouring down, beating the bearskin angrily, as if demanding entry.The house also trembled slightly due to the violent attack of the wind.But they hold up.

Thrall quickly began to take off his already soaked robe, shivering slightly.Agra also silently made similar movements.Wet clothes are more likely to kill them than a random bolt of lightning, although the former will be faster.They dried their wet skins, one green and one brown, and pulled dry and clean robes from a chest into them.Thrall lit a small brazier. He felt Agra's eyes looking at him, and there was a wordless oppression in the tent.Finally, she broke the silence. "Goyle," she began.There was concern in her low, husky voice. (Translator's Note: Gore, Go'el, is the name given to him by Saar's parents, in Hebrew, meaning "Redeemer", "the savior of blood")

"Don't talk," Thrall said, busy to boil hot water to prepare some hot drinks for the two of them. She was full of anger, rolled her eyes, and forcibly held back the words that came to her lips.He had a panoramic view of all this.He didn't like himself talking to her like this, but right now he wasn't in any mood to discuss what had just happened. The spell had failed, and Thrall knew it was all because of him. The two sat there awkwardly, relatively speechless.The storm is still going on, and the ground is still shaking.Finally, like a child who kept crying until he fell asleep, the earth seemed to quiet down.Thrall could feel that the earth hadn't reached peace, let alone healed, but it was still. until next time. Almost instantly, Thrall heard a voice from outside the tent.He and Agra walked out, with the gray sky in front of his eyes and the wet earth under his feet.Others were gathering in the central area, their faces showing concern, exhaustion and determination. Nobundo turned to Thrall and Agra.He was once a member of the draenei.Compared with the tall and mighty figure of the draenei, his body is curved and even deformed, which is caused by exposure to magic energy.Many Broken are evil and corrupt, but Nobundo is different.Indeed, he was lucky that he opened his great heart to receive the power of the shaman and bring it to his people.Beside him stood some draenei, their intact blue bodies looked neat and capable.But in the eyes of Thrall and many others, Nobundo's status made him superior. When the High Shaman stared at Thrall, the orc wanted to look away.This man—and indeed all the other shamans gathered here—is something Thrall deeply admires.Thrall never thought of disappointing the other party.But even so, he was a disappointment. Nobundo waved his huge hand, motioning for Thrall to come to his side. "Come here, friend," he whispered, looking at the orc kindly. The hearts of others are not so kind.Thrall could feel the angry eyes from the others.He walked towards Nobundo, and the others silently joined the informal assembly. "You know the spell we're trying to cast," said Nobundo, his voice still even. "It's used to soothe the earth. It's difficult, I admit, but it's a spell we all know here. Can you tell me why you—?" "Stop beating around the bush," Rhaegar roared.He was a burly orc with the scars of battle.People don't think of "spirituality" when they see him, but anyone who assumes that is dead wrong.Rhaegar's life has changed from a gladiator to a slave owner, and now Thrall's loyal friend and advisor.The journey is far from over.But now, if the opponent is not the former tribal chief, but an ordinary orc, he is likely to tremble in the face of Rhaegar's anger. "Thal...what the hell is wrong with you? We all felt it! You weren't paying attention then!" Thrall found himself clenching his fists, and quickly let his hands relax. "Rega, if it wasn't because you are my friend, I would never allow you to talk to me like this." Thrall said softly, but his voice was sharp. "Rhaegar is right, Thrall," Mullen Earthfury said in his low, rough voice. "This spell is indeed difficult, but not impossible-not even unfamiliar. You are a shaman, and have undergone all the authentic rituals. Drek'Thar sees you as a savior, because in the silence of the elements Years later, they choose to speak to you. You are not a helpless child, the object of our pampering and pity. You are a member of the Earthen Ring, a proud and strong one, or you would not Here it is. But you were defeated at the critical moment. We could have calmed the trembling of the earth, but because of you, our efforts were wasted. You need to tell us what is disturbing you, so that we can help you." "Mulren—" Agra began, but Thrall held up a hand. "Nothing," he said to Mullen. "It's exhausting work, and I have a lot on my mind. Nothing more." Rhaegar swore, "You have a lot on your mind," and he spat. "Well, so does the rest of us. Small things like saving our dying world!" In an instant, everything Thrall saw turned red.Before Thrall, Mullen spoke first. "Rhaegar, Thrall was the leader of the Horde, you were not. You have no idea what burdens he has carried, and possibly still carries. And you cannot use the moral Come judge him!" He turned to Thrall. "Thal, I'm not attacking you. I'm just wondering how we can help you, because you can help us better." "I know what you're doing," Thrall said, his voice bordering on a growl. "And I don't like that." "Maybe," Mullen tried to say in a tactful tone, "Now you need some rest. Our work is very tiring, and no matter how strong we are, we can't hold on." Thrall didn't even respond verbally to the other shamans; he just nodded curtly and strutted back to his hut. Thrall hadn't been this angry in a while.In fact, most of all, he was fighting against himself. He knew he was the weakest link in the link, that he wasn't giving 100 percent of his attention when it was most critical and needed.He has not yet been able to enter the depths of his heart and touch the spirit of life there, which is what he should have done.He didn't know if he could still do it.And it was precisely because he could not do so that it failed this time. He was dissatisfied with himself, with the assignment, with the previous unprovoked quarrel—without everything.Then he realized that this dissatisfaction had been with him for a long time. A few months ago, he made a difficult decision: he decided to give up his position as the warchief of the tribe and come here, to the Maelstrom, to pursue the path of shaman, not the path of leadership.He thought it was only temporary.He passed the reins to Garrosh Hellscream, son of Grom Hellscream, and later to Nagrand, following Thrall's grandmother, Gaiaan.This all happened before the cataclysm that shook Azeroth; Thrall felt the uneasiness of the elements, and he hoped that he could do something to calm the emotions of the elements and prevent subsequent changes, although it all happened in the end. There, he studied with a beautiful but often annoying shaman.Her name is Agra.She manages to help him, forcing him to dig deep for his own answers, and the two fall in love.After that, he returned to Azeroth, and when the cataclysm came, he went to the maelstrom hand in hand with his lover. It sounded like the right thing to do—hard choice, but also the right one.For a greater purpose, leave the people you know and love.But now, he began to have doubts. When Thrall was traveling in Renagrand, Garrosh killed Thrall's good friend, Tauren Chieftain Cairne Bloodhoof in a battle.Thrall later learned that Cairne's old nemesis, Magatha the Grimtotem, tricked Garrosh into using a poisoned blade on Cairne.Thrall couldn't help thinking that if he hadn't left Azeroth, Cairne wouldn't have been pointing fingers at Garrosh's leadership, and he wouldn't have died. With Agra by his side, he had expected...he didn't know what he was expecting.At least, a relationship different from the one they have now.At first, he was a little resistant to Agra's directness and sharpness, and then gradually developed a gratitude and love for these characteristics.But now it seems that she is not so much a partner who supports and encourages him, but she seems to be just another person who accuses him. Take today's utter failure, he didn't even help the Earthen Ring appease the elementals.He put aside his identity as warchief, endured the pain of losing a dear friend, and came here to help the Earthen Ring.But that didn't work either Nothing was working; nothing was going as it should; and Thrall—a former Horde warchief, warrior, shaman—feeled as if nothing he did was going to help. He's not used to this feeling.For many years, he led the tribe smoothly.He has a good grasp of war strategy and diplomacy.As a leader, he knows when to listen, when to speak, and when to act.This strange and tangled sense of uncertainty...new and unfamiliar, disgusted him. He heard the bear's hide being lifted, but he didn't turn around. "I'll slap Rhaegar for what he said to you," Agra said in a hoarse voice, "even though I didn't think to say it before." Thrall growled softly, "You've been so supportive," he said, "It's helped me a lot. Now, I should get out there and have easy access to the deepest parts of my heart. Maybe all these years, you The Horde should be leading, not me. Presumably we'll see Horde and Alliance living in harmony, with children of all races playing freely in Orgrimmar and Stormwind." She laughed out loud, her voice was so warm, as warm as the palm of her hand on his shoulder.He tried his best to resist the urge to shake his opponent's hand in anger, but he was not moved by it.He stood dead still, motionless.She pressed his shoulder, let go, and turned around to face Thrall. "Gol, I've been watching you since we met," she said, her eyes trying to catch his. "Initially out of perseverance, then out of love and concern. Now I look at you with love and concern. What I see in my eyes, I worry about." He didn't answer, but he was listening.Her hand lightly brushed across his firm face, wandering among the wrinkles on his forehead. "Despite everything you've been through before, before we met, there were no wrinkles where I'm touching now. Your eyes—blue as sky and ocean—are not as sad as they are now. Whatever you have in your heart Anything, it's hurting you. But because the threat is not external, you don't know how to deal with this enemy." He narrowed his eyes, showing a hint of confusion. "Go on," he said. "You're losing weight...not your body - you're still strong and powerful - but your spirit. It's like a part of you is blown away with every gust of wind, washed away with every drop of rain. If you Let it go, and the damage will destroy you. And I," she suddenly sharpened, light brown eyes twinkling, "wouldn't let that happen." He turned away with a low grunt, but she chased after him. "It's a disease of the mind, not the body. You hide yourself so deep in the business of maintaining the tribe that when you leave, you keep it with you." "I don't think I want to heal anything anymore," Thrall said in a warning voice. She completely ignored him. "Of course you don't," she said. "You don't like accusations from others. We all need to listen to you, and even if we don't agree, do it with respect. Your word is the final word, Warchief." There was no sarcasm in her voice, but the words were harsh nonetheless. "What do you mean, I don't accept blame? All around me are different voices. I welcome others to question my plans. I will even contact my enemies if it will benefit my people!" "I'm not denying the facts," Agra continued poisedly. "But that doesn't mean you take the blame very well. When Kane came to you, under the armor of Mannoroth, and he said he thought you were wrong, how did you react then?" Thrall shuddered.Kane... His mind went back to the last time he saw his best friend.Thrall brought word to the old bull that Garrosh would lead the Horde while he was away, so Cairne came to Thrall.He stated it bluntly, without any rhetorical tact.He thought Thrall had made a big mistake. "I—need you to stand with me on this matter, Kane. I need your support, not your negation," Thrall once said. "You let me judge with wisdom and common sense. I have only one answer for you. Don't give Garrosh that power...that's my wisdom, Thrall," Cairne replied. "Then there's nothing to talk about between us." And Sal just walked away. He never saw the living side of Kane again. "You weren't there," Thrall said, his voice hoarse with the memory. "You don't understand. I have to—" "Fuck!" Agra said, waving her hands to try to dislodge Thrall's excuses as if they were flies buzzing around her. "The conversation itself doesn't matter. Maybe you're right, and right now, it's none of my business. But you didn't listen. You dismissed him like a poncho in a torrential rain. Maybe you Never convinced him, but can you tell me you listened?" Sal didn't answer. "You didn't listen to an old friend. If Cairne could sense that you listened to him, he might not have thought of challenging Garrosh. You'll never know. And now that Cairne is dead, you Didn't even get a chance to listen to him." If she hadn't said that, Thrall might not have been so shocked.He took a step back, feeling dizzy, his mind full of her words.He never said these words, but when the night was quiet and he couldn't fall asleep, this thought always lingered in his mind quietly.He himself knew that under the circumstances at that time, he had to go to Nagrand, and that was the best choice he could make.But...if he could stay and talk to Kane more...what would happen?Agra was right...but he still hoped she was wrong. "I've always been able to listen when other people disagreed. Think about my meeting with Gianna! She disagrees with me sometimes, and she doesn't pay attention to her words." Agra snorted, "A human woman. How hurtful can she say something to an orc? To you, Jaina Proudmoore is not a threat or a problem." She frowned, seemingly in deep thought . "And so is your Theresa." "She's certainly not a problem. She's my friend!" Agra insisted on having this uncomfortable argument with him, and now she's bringing Theresa Foxton into the mix, which makes Sal even more angry. angry.Teresa is a human girl who became good friends with Thrall when she was a child; when she became an adult, she helped Thrall get rid of his role as a gladiator under the human lord Aedlas Blackmoore. and the fate of slaves.For this, she paid with her own life. "There are very few people in this world who can sacrifice so much for me, let alone she is human!" "Maybe that's your problem, Goyle, and it's been criticized. All the most important women in your life have been human." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Take care of your tone." "Ah, here's another proof of what I said: You don't listen to any differences of opinion at all. You'd rather shut me up than listen to me." What she said was true and hurtful.Thrall took a deep breath, trying to control his anger. "Then tell me: what do you mean?" "I haven't been in Azeroth long, but I've heard a lot of rumors. These words make me angry, and I'm sure they will make you angry too. There are rumors about you and Jaina, and even It's the affair between you and Teresa." There was anger and disgust in her voice—whether it was directed at him or the rumors, Thrall wasn't sure, and didn't care. "Agra, it is dangerous for you to touch upon this subject now," he roared. "Jianna Proudmoore was a strong, brave, intelligent woman who put her own safety at risk to help me. So did Theresa Foxton - only she lost her life. I won't do it just because of them Not born orcs, just stand by here and let your paranoid slander them! Thrall moved closer to Agra, his face only a few feet away from hers.She raised an eyebrow, showing no sign of flinching. "Goyle, you didn't listen carefully. I just repeated the rumors. I didn't say I believed them, and I didn't say anything against them except that they don't know how to judge an orc. .Even if there is, they let me understand that human beings can also gain the respect of others. But Thrall, they are not orcs, and you are not human. You don’t know that when you are questioned by women of the same race, or even by anyone, How do you deal with it." "I can't believe I'm listening to this!" "I don't believe it either, because you haven't been listening until now!" Their voices were all rising, and Thrall knew that this small room would never stop others from hearing their argument.Nevertheless, Agra continued. "You've been using your warchief to escape. That's why you find it so hard to break free." Her face moved closer to Thrall, hissing, "You bear the name of a slave because you're part of the Horde. You are a slave to your self-righteous duty. You use this duty as a shield—it separates you from your dark side, from your guilt, from your fear, from your hesitation. In fact It's yours - or anyone else's. You always plan ahead, but you never look back at the road you've traveled and think what an amazing gift this life has been. You plan for tomorrow , what about now? This moment...those tiny things...?" She became less severe, the anger in her eyes gradually faded, and her kindness grew, and unexpectedly gently took Sal's hand. "Like this hand you're holding?" Thrall shook his hand angrily.He's had enough of this.First the Earthen Ring, and now Agra, she should have supported him as always.He turned around, turned his back to her, and walked towards the door. Agra's words followed him closely. "Gol, you don't know who you are without the tribe," she said.She had the name his parents had given him—a name he had never used, from a family he had never known.Although she had used the name countless times, this time, Thrall suddenly became angry because of it. "I'm not Goyle!" he roared. "How many times do I have to tell you not to call me by that name?" She didn't flinch. "See?" she said, her voice full of sadness. "If you don't even know who you are, how are you going to know what to do?" He didn't answer.