Chapter 9 Chapter nine

Teresa aimed her musket at his broad chest, eyes narrowed. "I don't miss it," she said. "How did you know my name?" Thrall was completely confused for an unimaginably long time.Then he understood.He must have stumbled into one of those wrong timelines--one of the timelines the bronze dragonflight was trying to correct.Because, painfully, he knew that Theresa Foxton, his only childhood friend, never lived past her mid-twenties. "What I'm going to say next is going to sound incredible, but please, I beg you to believe me," he said, trying to sound as calm as possible — and rational.

She raised an eyebrow. "You're very talkative...for a stinking greenskin," Teresa always thought of him as her brother, and it hurt him that she had said such harsh words about him, but he didn't respond. "It's because I was educated — human," he said. "I was" The gun faltered, but only for a moment.From the way she held the gun, Thrall could tell Teresa was no stranger to firearms. "You're lying," she said. "The orc died a few days later." Sal's heart trembled.So he existed in this timeline...and died in his infancy.It was hard for him to accept.He tried again.

"Have you ever heard of dragons, Theresa?" She snorted. "Don't insult me. Of course I have. What does that have to do with this orc whose patience I'm about to lose?" She was so harsh, so hostile.Still, Thrall is determined to continue. "Then maybe you know of a race called the Bronze Dragonflight. Nozdormu is their leader. They make sure that time unfolds the way it should. In another timeline, as I told you, I live Came down and became a gladiator, as Blackmoore wished. You smuggled me the note in the book. You became my friend." "A friend of the orcs?" Suspicion raised her voice. "Not too possible."

"Yes," he agreed. "Very improbable. And wonderful. You remember the baby your mother nursed, and you liked him—me. And you hated what they did to me. I just met you, and I said I already knew something about you. I believe you don't like violence against life that cannot save itself." Her gun flickered, her eyes flickered for a moment, and then she stared at him again.Thrall was full of hope.No matter what had happened to her to make the gentle lady he knew so hard and cruel, he could see that she was still Teresa at heart.And if she was Terry, maybe he could impress her.To be able to help her, in a way, in this timeline, in a way that he himself was not able to.

"You helped me escape," he continued. "I freed my people from their internments. I defeated Blackmoore and leveled Durnholde. And later, humans, orcs and other races united and defeated an attack on our world, known as the Burning Legion Demonic powers. All of this is because of you, Terry. My timeline owes you so much." "It's a good story, it's better than what I'd expect from an orc," Teresa said. "But it's a lie. The world here obviously isn't like that. And that's the only world I've ever known." "What if I could prove it to you?" he said.

"That's impossible!" "But—what if I could?" Teresa still wasn't letting her guard down, but he could see that she was growing curious. "How?" she asked. "You did see the orc baby," Thrall said. "Do you remember the color of his eyes?" "Blue," she said immediately. "No one has ever seen an orc with blue eyes, either before or since." Thrall pointed to his face. "My eyes are blue, Theresa. And I've never seen any other orc with blue eyes." She snorted. "Speaking as if I would actually come close to you so I could see your eyes clearly at night," she said. "Stop dreaming." Her head jerked to the left. "Come on, Greenskin."

"Wait! There is one more thing... that can prove to you that I am telling the truth." "I've had enough of this," she said. "In the bag," he insisted. "Look in this bag. There's a little pocket in it. In that pocket . . . I think you'll find something you'll recognize." He prayed he was right.There are only a few things in the small pocket.his totem.That acorn, of course—was a gift from the old tree.A makeshift altar bearing the symbols of each element.And... something precious.Something he'd lost and found again...something he'd keep until he died.

"If it's some kind of trick, I'll punch a hole in your head as big as...," she muttered, crouching down carefully and beginning to rummage through it, despite the glaring she clearly trusted her own judgment his bag. "What should I look for?" "If I'm right...you'll know when you see it." With another grunt, she shifted the musket to her right hand and poured out the contents of the package with her left.She combed through the objects one by one, apparently not seeing anything with special meaning. "I just saw a rock, a feather, a—"

Teresa was silent.She gazed at the little jewels that shone in the moonlight.She picked up the silver necklace with a trembling hand, as if she had completely forgotten Thrall's existence.A crescent moon hangs from the chain.She opened her mouth wide and looked at Thrall, and instead of the anger and deep-seated fear that had distorted her beautiful face before, her face was now filled with shock... and wonder. "My necklace," she said softly. "You gave it to me," Thrall said. "When you helped me escape. You told me to hide in a big fallen tree. Near a big rock in the shape of a dragon."

She lowered the musket slowly, without even looking at him again.With her other hand, she reached inside her frayed linen blouse and pulled out a necklace, exactly like the one she was holding. "When I was young, I had a gap in it," she said. "right here……" Both necklaces have the exact same indentation: the corner below the crescent is slightly distorted. He looked up at her, and for the first time he saw the Teresa he remembered looking at him.He walked towards each other slowly and knelt beside her. Her hand gripped the second necklace, and she reached out to him.She let go of her hand, only to see it gently spread in his huge green palm.He looked at Sal, no fear on his face, and smiled slightly.

"Your eyes," she whispered. "It's blue." Although he knew his story sounded ridiculous, Thresa believed him, much to Thrall's delight, but not unexpectedly.The evidence he gave her was irrefutable to her.The Theresa he knew was unbiased in the face of such evidence.And the woman in front of him was Teresa again, though nothing like the gentle and earnest young woman he remembered. They talked for a long time.Thrall told her about his world, though he didn't tell Theresa what she ended up becoming.He wouldn't lie if she asked, but she didn't.He told her about his past, and about the tasks Ysera had entrusted to him. Then she poked at the flames, telling him bit by bit about this new, warped timeline that had emerged. "Oh, of course Blackmoore is in this timeline," she says bitterly as the conversation shifts to the villain. "It's just that I think I like the one on your side better." Sal snorted. "A scheming, selfish drunk trying to create an orc army against his own people?" "In this timeline, he's a scheming, selfish, sober general who doesn't need an army of orcs against his people," she said. "From what you've told me"—she turned her short-haired head to look at his muscular body—"you're a formidable fighter. And I'm convinced of it. Sounds like Blackmoore is too Too much on you and his secret plans. When you're dead, he'll have to fend for himself." "Normally, this trait is admirable," says Sal. "Normally. But he's hardly...normal." She turned around while talking. There was something in her expression that immediately alerted Thrall.It was personal anger, and... shame? "He... you're also his mistress in this timeline," he said. "Sorry." Her laugh was harsh. "A mistress? A mistress can go to parties, Thrall. She gets jewelry, clothes, and hunts with her master. Her family is well taken care of. I've never been treated with such respect as a mistress." She took a deep breath and continued. "I'm just for fun. He gets tired of me pretty quickly. At least I'm grateful for that." "Your parents... what happened to them?" "They were punished." She smiled, but there was no smile in her eyes. "Because of 'letting' you die, shortly after the death of my brother Farling. My father lost his position and was relegated to the lowest rank to sweep the stables. My mother died when I was eight. That winter, Blackmoore Don't even let her go to the doctor. My father died a few years later. I took what little savings they had left and left without looking back. By then, Blackmoore didn't care anymore. He was too Too busy ruling." "Reign?" Thrall stared at her dumbfounded. "Of course, no one approves of him occupying the throne of Lordaeron. But no one dares to overthrow him." Thrall sat back heavily, trying to figure things out. "Go on," he said, his voice hollow. "He was very popular. There were only his own people in the beginning, and he trained them and drove them to perfection." Thrall thought of the endless gladiatorial matches he had been forced to endure.It does, in a twisted and grotesque way, sound like Blackmoore. "Then he hired mercenaries and trained them the same way. After Blackrock Spire, well, he was unstoppable." "What happened then?" "He killed Orgrim Doomhammer in a duel." Teresa said immediately, taking another handful of berries Thrall had picked earlier. Thrall couldn't believe his ears.Blackmore?The slug, the drunk, the coward?Declaring war on Horde Warchief Orgrim Doomhammer, alone?And won? "This defeat has completely broken Green—sorry, orcs," Teresa quickly corrected herself. "They became slaves, Thrall. They lost their souls. They weren't even kept in camps like you said. Any orcs found in the wild were bought by the kingdom, or forced into labor, and if they dared to defy was killed." "So you want to keep me alive," Thrall said softly. She nodded. "If I turn in a wild orc, I can live for over a year on what they pay me. This... is my world, Thrall. It's always been that way. But..." Teresa His brows were furrowed. "…I've always felt…well, never felt right. Not just morally, but…" Her voice trailed off. Thrall understood what she was trying to say. "It never felt right because it wasn't right," Thrall said firmly. "This timeline is wrong. Blackmoore is dead; the orcs have their own land; and I've made friends among humans." He laughed. "It starts with you." She smiled back and shook her head. "That's weird, but...now it seems right to me." She hesitated. "I noticed that you never mentioned what happened to me in that timeline. His face twitched. "I hoped you wouldn't ask. But I should know you would." "I, uh... I don't think I ended up being like this woman named Jaina Proudmoore you're so admiring," she said, trying to appear brisk, but unsuccessful. He looked at her thoughtfully, then said very seriously, "Do you really want to know?" Teresa frowned, poking at the flames again, then pushed the branch in and sat back. "Yes, I do want to know." Of course she would want to know.Teresa didn't flinch from the discomfort.He hoped that what he needed to tell her wouldn't make her turn against him, but it wasn't right to tell her anything but the absolutely complete truth. He sat for a while, gathering his thoughts.She didn't interrupt him.The only sounds are the crackling of fire and the murmur of nocturnal animals. "You are dead," Thrall finally said. "Blackmoore found out that you were helping me. When you came to meet me, he had men following you, and when you went back...he killed you." She didn't make a sound, but the muscles in her face twitched.Then, in an unusually calm voice, she said, "Go on. How did I die?" "I'm not sure," Thrall said. "But..." He closed his eyes for a moment.First witnessing the massacre of his own parents, and now this. "He cut off your head and put it in a bag. When I came to Durnholde and asked him to release the orc captives...he threw the bag at me." Theresa buried her face in her hands. "He thought it would break me. And in a way, it did—but not in the way he expected." Thrall recalled the moment, his voice deeper. "That made me furious. For what he did - for what he was - I would have no mercy for him. In the end, your death is his death. I revisited it many times. Get through that moment. I keep wondering if I could have done something to save you. I'm sorry I can't, Teresa. I'm sorry." Her hands still covered her face.When she finally began to speak, her voice was muffled. "Tell me one thing," she said. "Did I make any difference?" He couldn't believe she was asking that question.Didn't he understand everything he said? "Theresa," he said, "it is because of your kindness that I understand that some humans can be trusted—that's why I would even consider an alliance with Jaina Proudmoore. Because of you, I believe that I not only It's just...just a monster with green skin. I, and therefore my people—all orcs—are not treated like animals." He put a hand on her shoulder.She turned her head to him, tears streaming down her face. "Theresa, my dear friend," he said in a trembling voice. "My spiritual sister. Not only does it make a difference, you can really say that it has a profound impact." To Sal's surprise, she smiled at him tremblingly. "You don't understand," she said staccatoly. "I never made a difference of any kind. I never mattered. I never did a single thing that affected anything or anyone." "your parents--" She made a contemptuous sound. "Parents in your world sound more nurturing than mine. I'm a woman, and I'm of no use to them. We're all too busy trying to survive. The education you mention—I never had .I can't read, Sal. I can't write." Thrall couldn't imagine Theresa being illiterate.It was books that first brought the two of them together.Without her notes, he might never be able to escape.He thought that in the real timeline, her fate was very cruel, which was too unfair for such a kind-hearted person.But in some ways, her life here is almost arguably worse. Agra had accompanied him on his shamanic vision quests, and, in this way, had "seen" Theresa. She shouldn't have died, Thrall had said on that soul journey. How do you know this is not her fate?Maybe she's already done everything she was born to do?Agra replied.Only she knows. With a shudder in his heart, Thrall realized that Theresa - in both timelines - did know. "To hear it from you - to know that it matters to me to be alive, not to anyone, not to the country, to the whole history of... the world - you don't know what it means to me. I don't care that I Dead or not. I don't care how I die. At least I lived a meaningful life!" "It was, and it is," Thrall said, his voice urgent. "Maybe you haven't been able to make a difference...not yet. But that doesn't mean you can't." "If I turn in a wild orc, I can live for over a year on what they pay me. This... is my world, Thrall. It's always been that way. But..." Teresa His brows were furrowed. "…I've always felt…well, never felt right. Not just morally, but…" Her voice trailed off. Sal blinked. "You said so." It was important, but he didn't understand why she wanted to repeat it. She frowned. "What did you say?" The air feels...different.Thrall stood up and picked up Theresa's musket.Thankfully, Teresa didn't panic, but immediately stood up beside him, looking into the surrounding woods for the threat. "What did you hear?" "It was, and it is," Thrall said, sitting beside her. "Maybe you haven't been able to make a difference...not yet. But that doesn't mean you don't—" Thrall swallowed half of what he had said.He gets it. "The timeline is wrong," he said. "You and I both know this. It's so abnormal, so wrong, that it doesn't even flow properly anymore. Things are...repeating. Things might even fall apart." Theresa turned pale as she listened to him. "You mean—you think—the world is coming to an end?" "I don't know what to expect," Thrall said sincerely. "But we need to figure out how to stop it, how to get me out of this timeline. Otherwise everything - your world and mine, and who knows how many other worlds - will be destroyed. " She is scared.She looked down at the fire, bit her lower lip, and thought. "I need your help," Thrall said softly. She looked up at him and smiled. "No problem. I want to bring about change...again."