Chapter 5 chapter Five

The journey from the Maelstrom to Feralas was long and arduous.Thrall had promised to give Ysera an answer, but when he emerged, there was no sign of the green dragonkeeper.Confused and annoyed at first, he was then ashamed of his reaction: there was no doubt that Ysera had many important responsibilities besides waiting for an answer from an ordinary shaman.He had been given this mission, he had accepted, and he would have done it—though he had hoped that Ysera would think of keeping one of her green dragons behind to make the journey quicker.She didn't, so he had to do his best with wyverns, ships, and worgs.

Ysera had told him that Dreamer's Rest was next to one of the Twin Towers.He rode his beloved and loyal Frostwolf, Snowsong, through the overgrown roads, feeling the heat in the air-this was not the same as the mild climate of Lordaeron he had spent in his adult years and Ogrim. Mar's dry heat was very different—leaching his energy. He sniffed, saw the smoke in the distance, and urged the worg under his crotch to run faster.Compared with the strong smell of trees in Feralas on weekdays, the pungent stench in the air is particularly out of place. As he drew closer, Thrall found his resentment and dissatisfaction with Ysera's task ebbing away.These people, these druids, they're in trouble.They need help.Whatever the reason for the Green Dragonlord's doing this, she wanted him to be the one to reach out.

And he will. He rounded a corner, and the camp suddenly appeared in front of him.What Thrall saw made him stop abruptly. Owl carvings...an ancient ruin...a moonwell... "Night elves," he grumbled loudly.Ysera only mentioned "druids".It seems that she forgot a small detail, this "Dreamer's Rest" is not the territory of tauren druids, it belongs to the possible - presumably - hostile night elves.Is this some kind of trap?He's been imprisoned by the Alliance, dragged away as "cargo," and rescued by the most unlikely rescuers.He will not allow himself to be used like this again.

Thrall jumped off Snow Song and gestured for him to stay put.Cautiously, he moved forward slowly to get a better view.As Ysera said, Dreamer's Sleep is indeed small.It appears to be deserted; perhaps the residents are busy fighting the fire. The Patriarchs knew it would be close.He could see some trees behind the dark purple traveler's kiosks standing at the far end of the camp.Again, as the Awakened had promised him, it seemed to Thrall like a small part of an ancient wood. He can naturally feel the anger and uneasiness of the elements here, almost frenzied.His eyes were tearing from the smoke.If something is not done soon...

He felt something sharp and hard against his back.Thrall remained completely still. "Speak slowly, orc, and tell us why you bothered the druid of the raptor." The female voice sounded unquestionable. Thrall scolded himself.He was too distracted by the elemental pain, and he was too careless.But at least the elf let him talk. "I was sent to help you," he said. "I'm a shaman. Search my bag if you want; you can find my totem." She snorted. "An orc, to help the night elves?" "A shaman, to help heal and soothe an angry land," he said. "I am a member of the Earthen Ring. Both Horde and Alliance are looking for a way to save the world. The Cenarion Circle of Druids has a similar organization. In my backpack, I have a pouch to carry my totem. Search it if you like it. I just ask you to let me help."

The sharp object pressed against his back was removed, but Thrall wasn't stupid enough to attack.Elves are by no means alone.Thrall's muscles tensed as the Doomhammer strapped to his back was removed, but he kept himself in check.A pair of hands searched in his bag, and finally took out the small pocket. "Those are indeed totems," came a male voice. "And he's wearing a rosary. Orc, turn around." Thrall followed suit slowly.The two night elves looked at him.One of them is a Sentinel with green hair and purple skin.The other man was clean-shaven and had green hair pulled into a topknot.His skin was a deep rich purple, and his eyes shone with a golden light.Both were sweating profusely and covered in soot, apparently busy trying to put out the fire.Now, other people are coming here, they are very curious while remaining cautious.

The woman studied Thrall's face, then recognized him. "Thal," she said in disbelief.She looked over to Doomhammer lying on the ground, and then back to him. "The chief of the tribe?" Another voice said. "No, not anymore, at least according to the rumours, he's no longer the chief," the woman said. "We hear he's gone—no longer as chieftain. The Sentinels have not been informed of his whereabouts. I'm Irina Lewdan, one of the Sentinels, and this is Deshaline Greensong, A raptor druid. I traveled to Orgrimmar as part of the diplomatic entourage." Erina had been holding her warglaive in a defensive stance; now she lowered the weapon. "You're a very important person and you've come to our little camp. Who sent you here?"

Sal sighed inwardly.He'd thought he'd be able to skip the details of the mission. "The rumors are true. I left to help heal the damage caused by the Cataclysm. I worked with others in the Earthen Ring in the Maelstrom and was found by Ysera the Awakened," he said. "She told me about the plight of Dreamer's Sleep: You don't have shamans to deal with the elements of anxiety, and you need help." "You want me to believe this?" Arina said. "I believe it," said Descharin.Arina looked at him in surprise. "Even as Chieftain, Thrall had a reputation for being moderate. And now that he's serving the Earthen Ring, perhaps he was indeed sent here."

"By a dragon," Erina said sarcastically. "I'm sorry...it's not just any dragon, it's Ysera from the Emerald Dream. She's also carrying the Doomhammer." "Who would want to help a druid more?" Desharin said. "And the Doomhammer is his, isn't it? He can take it anywhere he wants." The sentinel didn't reply, and turned to another person who had come.He had a short beard, and the same long green hair was untied and let loose.His face was aged and wise, and he looked at Thrall thoughtfully. "This is your camp, Tyralon," Arina said respectfully. "Tell us what you want us to do. He is an orc and our enemy."

"He's also a shaman, and thus a friend of the elementals," Tyralon replied. "The elementals are so bewildered that we cannot turn their friends away. We will test you, Thrall of the Earthen Ring. Come here." Thrall followed Tyralon up the hillside, closer to the scorching flames.Luckily, the trees around the camp hadn't caught fire yet, and Thrall could tell that they had been watered.All small shrubs have been removed, leaving only the old trees. He saw it in his eyes and felt pain in his heart. Many large trees were too badly burned to be saved.Although the other trees were only ignited, the angry original flame was spreading rapidly.Thrall recalled the flames that swept across Orgrimmar, and quickly pulled out the flame totem from his pocket.He took a step, planted his bare feet firmly into the ground, and raised his hands high into the air.He closed his eyes and reached out with his mind and heart.

Spirit of Fire, what troubles do you have?let me help.Let me take you away, so that you will not hurt those ancient, precious and irreplaceable things.Let me take you with you so that you can bring warmth and comfort to living life. One of the elements responded, and there was something strangely grim in its essence.It felt like the dark fury of the flames that had threatened Orgrimmar's very existence a few months earlier, but there was something unwavering about its nature. I'm doing what has to be done.Purification of fire.You know.The flame burns away the impure, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, and so on.This is my duty, Shaman! Thrall's eyes were still closed, and he shook suddenly as if he had been hit.your duty?Spirit of Fire, you have indeed chosen your duty.But what happened to make you think these old trees need to be cleansed?Are they sick?Caught the plague?Or is it cursed? None of this, the fire elemental who spoke in Thrall's mind admitted. So why?tell me.I would understand if I could. The flame didn't answer right away, for a moment it suddenly burned stronger and brighter.Thrall, facing the hellfire, had to turn his face away. They're... confused.Something is wrong with them.They don't know what they should know.They must be destroyed! Thrall himself was confused by this response.He is well aware that all life has its own soul.Even the stones, though they were not really "living" beings; even the flames, which were "talking" in his head and heart.But he couldn't make sense of it at all. what do they knowThrall asked the Fire Spirit. mistake! The unnatural kind of "wrong" or the incorrect kind of "wrong"? Incorrect! Thrall thought frantically.Can they learn what is right? For a long time, Thrall thought he had lost the flame's attention.Its restlessness, its erraticity, its restlessness.If it won't listen-- Once, they knew.They can be relearned. Then, spirit of fire, do not destroy.I beg you to be able to retreat.If you must burn, it's like a torch, bringing light in the dark, or a hearth, cooking food and warming a cold body.Don't do any more damage to these trees, or you'll forever ruin their ability to relearn what's right one day! Thrall, tense, waited.He desperately hoped he was on the right track.The only way he could know if he was right was to see if Flame listened to him.After a long time, nothing happened.The crackling flames were still burning, the heat spreading over the blackening and nearly dead trees. Then: agree.They have to learn again what is right.Someone has to teach them.If not, they should be burned.They must burn. Then, the flame gradually disappeared.Thrall slumped forward, his eyes snapped open, his strength nearly drained from the work.Strong hands grabbed him, and there was cheering all around. "Well done, Shaman," Tyralon said, his smile full of determination. "Well done! We are very grateful. Please - stay with us tonight. We will treat you as a guest of honor." Sal agreed.Thrall, and the elves who should have slept during the day, were tired from the long journey and strenuous work.That night, he sat beside Xuege, feasting, drinking and singing with night elf druids and sentries.Thrall, who was secretly surprised, shook his head, remembering the gathering not long ago, when ten druids—five night elves, five tauren—gathered and negotiated peacefully over trade routes.They were ambushed and brutally murdered, and only the tauren Archdruid Hamuul Runetotem survived.This action angered both the Alliance and the Horde.There are rumors that the ambush was sent by Garrosh Hellscream, but this has never been confirmed.Thrall didn't believe the rumours, even with Garrosh's fiery temper. If that meeting had been successful, Thrall mused sadly, perhaps such nights—with songs, laughter, and storytelling—would have become the norm between the two camps.Maybe there will be more union, maybe there will be more healing in the shared world. The night elves were still singing to the night sky, but the guest Thrall was already asleep, with the sound of wild music lingering in his ears, wrapped in sleeping fur, using his hands as pillows. For a long time, this seemed to be the first time Thrall could sleep so soundly. At dawn, someone gently shook Thrall awake. "Thall," came the musical voice of a Kaldorei. "It's Descharin. Wake up. I have something to show you." Thrall, who had experienced many battles over the years, had become accustomed to getting up quickly and maintaining full vigilance.He got up quietly and followed the elves, carefully stepping over the sleeping night elves.They walked past moonwells and kiosks, deep into the borders of the old woods. "Wait here and be quiet," Descharin whispered. "listen." Those trees that escaped the fiercest flames moved with a sigh, with the creak of branches and the murmur of leaves.Thrall waited another moment, then turned to his companion, shaking his head. "I heard nothing." Decharin smiled. "Thal," he whispered. "There's no wind here." Suddenly, Thrall realized that the Kaldorei were telling the truth.There seemed to be a breeze blowing here, making the trees sway—but the air was still. "Look at them," Descharin said. "Be careful." Thrall stared intently at the trees.Knobs all over the trunk... spiky branches... His eyes zoomed in, and suddenly he realized what it was—who? --In front of him.Of course he had heard of them, but he had never seen them in person. "It's an ancient tree," a few words blurted out.Deshaline nodded.Thrall watched in awe, wondering how he hadn't seen it before.He shook his head slowly, "And I actually thought I was just here to save a forest. They seem to be... just like big trees." "They were sleeping. You woke them up." "It's me? What's going on?" Thrall didn't want to take his eyes off the ancient tree.These extremely ancient beings, many of them guard the wisdom from ancient times.They move, squeak, and seem to be... talking? Thrall tried his best to understand.After a while, Thrall realized he could read the deep yet soft words. "Dreams, we were in dreams. Confused dreams, trapped us in uncertainty and ethereal. So, when the fire came, we didn't wake up. Only when we heard the ancient ritual, the shaman's ritual to the elements When we woke up. Your actions saved us." "The flame told me it was trying to cleanse you. It thought you were...unclean," Thrall said, trying to recall verbatim what the fire elemental had told him. "It said you were confused. You didn't know what you knew, and what you knew was wrong. I asked it to see if you could learn what was right, and the Spirit of Fire thought you could. So It agreed not to continue burning." Thrall noticed that some small creatures were making nests in the branches of some ancient trees after the fire was no longer a threat.They look like tiny dragons, with brightly colored wings as delicate as those of a butterfly.Pairs of bright eyes and soft, furry tentacles adorn their heads.One of them flew away from the branch, flapped its wings around, and then landed on Descharin's shoulder, touching each other affectionately. "They're called faerie dragons," Deshaline said, patting the little life. "They are not dragons, but magical defenders, guardians of the Emerald Dream." Sal understood in an instant.He looked at the ancient trees in front of him, at their small magic guards, and at Desharin's long green hair. "You are a green dragon," he whispered.This is a statement, not a question. Deshaline nodded. "My mission is to monitor you." Thrall frowned deeply, and the long-lost anger climbed into his heart again. "Spy on me? Am I being tested? Have I met Ysera's expectations?" "It's not like that," he said. "This is not an assessment of your skills. I have been sent to observe your state of mind as you help us, to observe how you approach the task. A journey is ahead of you. Thrall, son of Durotan and Draka. We shall Know if you're ready for the journey." The old trees spoke again in their strange creaking tongue. "For a long time, we have kept the memory of this world. For a long time, we have tended to the knowledge that others have forgotten. But the spirit of fire is right. Something is wrong. The memory on our shoulders is getting blurred, confused... Lost. Then With time, something went wrong." agree.They have to learn again what is right.Someone has to teach them.If not, they should be burned.They must burn. "That's what the spirit of fire wants to say," Thrall said. "It knows that their memories are messed up and are no longer correct. But it thinks they can relearn those correct memories. This shows that there is hope." Descharin nodded and said to himself. "There is something wrong with the memory of the ancient trees. They are different from us: their memories cannot be modified unless the things they remember are themselves modified. In other words, time itself has been disturbed." He turned to Thrall , with seriousness and excitement at the same time. "So, this is your journey. You must go to the Caverns of Time. You must find out what happened and help correct the timeline." Thrall looked at him in astonishment. "Timelines... so they do exist. I thought—" "They exist. Nozdormu and the rest of the bronze dragonflight manage the timelines. And he's the one you're looking for with this information." "Me? Why is he talking to me? Wouldn't another dragon be a better choice?" Traveling through time, changing or revising history—the thought was almost irresistible.He felt that it was far beyond his own depth.An errand that had seemed so insignificant now took on dire importance. "I'll accompany you if you want," Descharin offered. "But the Dragon King firmly believes that you are very important in a certain sense." He suddenly grinned, looking much younger than his actual age. "At least you have green skin." Thrall got a little annoyed at first, but found himself laughing. "I welcome any help and guidance you may offer, and I am honored that Ysera values ​​me so much. I will approach what I can to help." He turned to the ancient tree. "Helping you all if I can." The old tree made a rustling sound.Thrall heard something land softly.It rolled down a slight slope and stopped at Thrall's feet. "That's a gift for you," Descharin said. Thrall stooped to pick it up.It was an acorn, and in his eyes it was no different from any other acorn.But he knew it wasn't just an acorn.As he shielded the acorn with his hands, he felt a shiver.After a while, Thrall carefully put it in his pocket. "Keep it well," Descharin said suddenly in a serious tone. "Its mother tree, its grandmother tree...and so on, all their knowledge up to the beginning of things, is contained in this acorn. You need to plant it when you feel the place is right." Thrall nodded, his throat raised due to the gift and the task. "I will do it," he assured Gu Shu. "Now then, orc friend," Desharin said, looking up at the glowing sky. "We headed for the Caverns of Time."