Chapter 2 Chapter 1 Teldrassil

A sense of foreboding not felt since Azshara's fall made the beautiful night elf priestess shudder. Tyrande Whisperwind(1) tries to escape this feeling by meditating.The new capital of the night elves is Darnassus.It was built not to commemorate some mad queen, but to commemorate those night elves who survived the ancient catastrophe.While not nearly as large as the night elves' first capital, Darnassus was no less impressive than its predecessor.One reason for this is that it sits on a thick branch on the west side of Teldrassil, the world tree.This branch is so gigantic that buildings as magnificent as the Temple of the Moon God have been built upon it.The Temple of the Moon Goddess is built of boulders that the elves magically transported from the interior to Teldrassil.Even more astonishing than this fact, however, is that Darnassus is the world's largest dominion built among the foliage.

All this is due to the druids who planted this world tree. Tyrande tried not to let even a hint of emotion about the druids affect her equanimity.She respects the calling of druids as an integral part of night elves' lives, but she is still afraid that any information about druids will remind her of her childhood. The deep worry of her playmate, her lover Malfurion Stormrage. The soft light of Selena shines through the tinted circular glass skylight into the huge central hall.For a moment, the light changed from silvery white to soft violet.But when this beam of light fell on the shining pool where the statue of Halderni sat, the light changed back to its original tone.Halderni was the first high priestess to hear the blessing of Elune, the goddess of the moon, when she was a child.Tyrande sat cross-legged as she always did in front of the statue's upraised arms, on the huge stone steps below her, eager to find comfort and guidance from her predecessor and the moon goddess, to relieve the tension.Although it was usually a place for priestesses and apprentices to sit and seek peace, there was only Tyrande at this time.

The priestess closed her eyes, but still couldn't stop the thoughts of Malfurion rushing into her mind.Her bond with Malfurion dates back to the War of the Ancients.At that time, she and Malfurion, as well as Malfurion's twin brother Illidan, were oppressed by the cruel war and transformed from innocent teenagers into battle-hardened warriors.She still clearly remembers being imprisoned by Azshara because of Illidan's betrayal.Although she was not told how she was escorted to Azshara until after the fact, Tyrande still imagined what happened from time to time-how she was transformed by Harvey, Azshara's demon of the Burning Legion Tormented by satyrs' wicked minions.She remembered even more that Malfurion was sleepy from exhaustion after they'd just been able to drive the demons out of their world.Whenever she thought of how Malfurion had spent the last of his mana to save her, her heart ached.

What haunts her most are the hopes and dreams the two of them shared after the battle.They had discussed that they would start a new life together after Azeroth no longer needed their sacrifices. Unfortunately, however, Malfurion's call separated the two of them again.He was tasked with training new druids, since the damage on Azeroth itself required a lot of placating.And when Malfurion left Tyrande aside and chose to enter the Emerald Dream, she sometimes had to wonder if he really loved her. At the same time, Tyrande became a high priestess of the Selene with great reluctance, even taking on the role of leader of her people at certain times.It was also in playing the role of leader that she succeeded in dismantling the traditional, and at the same time flawed, hereditary military system and creating a system of sentinels where everyone could do what they could.Though Tyrande had no choice but to be the leader, she wanted to do what she could to protect her fellow night elves.

Goddess of the moon, please grant me peace.The priestess prayed silently.Despite being over a thousand years old, the night elf looks no older than when she was given the task.That bunch of pure dark blue hair as beautiful as the night sky still covered her tender shoulders, and the strands of silvery white in the hair had been with her since she was born. She still has the delicate and beautiful face of a girl.Although a few fine lines have faintly climbed up the corners of her silver eyes, they do not belong to the traces of aging over the past hundred years, but just a kind of aging in the past six or seven years.

Her efforts to lead her people wisely over the centuries had exhausted her physically and mentally, and the priestess had to resort to meditation to regulate herself.Tyrande had to meditate for an hour every once in a while, but such a requirement was not too much for Elune.Gradually, bathed in the eternal light of the goddess, Tyrande was able to forget those ominous thoughts every now and then.This time, however, the calm did not last.Tyrande knew the reason for losing her calm, but she was unwilling to give up resistance, so she concentrated her will— Tyrande began to gasp for breath.At this moment, the soft moonlight suddenly shone with harsh light... and, unprecedented, pain.

Around her began to change.She is no longer under the protection of the temple.At this time the priestess was in a cave.Details about the place flowed through her mind like pages of a book.Tyrande saw piles of foliage, various furs, teeth, and other items harvested from the creatures of Azeroth.She also saw many runes, some of which were so familiar to the priestess, while others puzzled her. She shivered.Although the priestess knew the place well, she tried hard to deny the fact. Then another priestess stepped into Tyrande's sight.Tyrande recognized Miranda by her slender face.Though far younger than the High Priestess, she is also a highly revered servant of the goddess.

A second priestess also came into her sight, which she also recognized, and then a third priestess also entered.They were all expressionless and bowed their heads.They all wore simple silver hooded robes.Their modest attire complements their surroundings, for these priestesses are not among their own kind but in the domain of the druids.Indeed, it was a lair—a home, in other words—for them. When Tyrande was thinking about this, her eyes could not help but follow the eyes of several other priests.A body lying flat on a pile of hay.A dim silver light—the light of a goddess—gradually illuminated the motionless figure.Even after such a long time, after she thought she was used to it, her heart still beat faster because of seeing this solemn scene (2).

Even though he didn't move at all, his noble appearance was older than hers.His long green hair was held across his chest by the priestesses and seemed to meet his thick, legendary beard.His thick and raised eyebrows make him look so serious. His attire is more elaborate than most druids because of his special status.His forearms were as well armored as his calves, and the heavy armor and long horns protected his shoulders.Harvested from dead trees, this wooden armor is blessed to be stronger than metal.The sleeveless gown stretched down to his ankles, and on the sides of his thighs was painted a colorful pattern imitating fallen leaves.There is a touch of light blue like a crescent moon near the buttocks, which may be to show respect to the goddess of the moon.

Malfurion's hollow golden eyes were staring blankly at the ceiling. Tyrande reveled in his presence—he was the one she loved.Tyrande felt her legs go weak—a body that had been so wise and brave suddenly became so lifeless.She stared at the elegant and outstanding Malfurion, and the corners of her mouth curled up weakly.This male night elf is so regal in appearance that every aspect of him deserves more attention.Protruding forward from his forehead are a pair of proud antlers.They were over two feet long, but they were not natural, but a gift from Cenarius.Only a handful of druids had ever been blessed by four-legged demigods, and the first and greatest of them lay before her eyes.

Tyrande had never been troubled by the pair of horns.She had always seen them as proof of Malfurion's greatness. "Malfurion..." she whispered into the figure, although no one, least of all Malfurion, could hear her: "My Malfurion, why do you have to leave me again? " Several other priestesses knelt beside Malfurion, placing their hands on his head and chest.Tyrande knew what they were doing, for it was all under her orders. It is with the blessing of the goddess of the moon that Malfurion survives.Her devotion kept Malfurion's body alive and healthy, hoping that one day her beloved could wake up, hoping that his soul, lost in the Emerald Dream, would return to his body... The High Priestess leaves in despair.Why on earth did the goddess show her this scene?This just increased her anxiety and more terrifying thoughts.She can't look at him now, maybe, she will lose him like this, forever. Malfurion's caretaker stepped back.Their expressions remained indifferent.They have been performing tasks like this day in and day out for a long time, and they are very clear about their responsibilities. But suddenly, the elder druid's skin instantly darkened.The three priestesses remained unresponsive as if they hadn't noticed the changes in front of them at all.Tyrande rushed in front of Malfurion, not paying attention to how she passed through the bodies of the other priestesses like through a layer of fog.All she cared about was the terrible change that had taken place in her lover. She watched feebly, unable even to touch his body.She could only watch the horrific changes in the druid.It wasn't just the change in Malfurion's skin that frightened the priestess, the druid's body also gradually dried up, turning into a dead tree trunk.Numerous knots and cracks sprouted from his limbs, and scorched dead leaves grew from his hair and beard and quickly replaced them.Now the dead leaves began to sway, as if a gust of wind was blowing slowly from under the ground. His golden eyes turned back to the silver they had been when he was born, and then, even more horrifyingly, they sunk in, forming two black holes. The rhythmic sound of the leaves distracted the priestess, though she didn't understand why at first.At first, a vibration of branches and leaves accompanied this sound.Then another faint sound, a regular, steady, pulse-like sound filled her ears. It was the sound of a heartbeat. She whirled around quickly - none of the other priests seemed to hear the sound.Then the sound became so deafening: the leaves swayed wildly, and... Heartbeat starts to slow down.At first it was only slowing at a barely noticeable rate, but it was dying like a gust of wind. It's as if a heart begins to gradually become still... Terrified, Tyrande held out her hand to Malfurion— The den is gone. Darkness and silence engulfed the Priestess of the Moon.She found her eyes closed. Taking a deep breath, she slowly opened her eyes and adjusted to the moonlight.She found herself in the temple again.The statue of Halderni stood in front of her.It didn't take long for her to realize that what had just happened was just a brief moment. However, what she was worried about was the fantasy just now, not her physical state.The last time she saw visions were brought to her by her goddess centuries ago, and they were all very important... yet this time, it was the visions that worried her the most. Despite the careful watchful eye of his guardians, it now appears that Malfurion is indeed slowly dying. The stormcrow flapped its broad, powerful wings as it approached the island, its tan feathers with silver tips so enormous for its kind.It has a tuft of silvery crest sloping back and a pair of feathers of the same color on the sides of its head, making it look older and learned.Its deep silver eyeballs reveal the scene in front of its brows. Although a large cloud covered the night sky, this storm crow moved nimbly through the clouds, as if it was very familiar with the surrounding environment.At sea level, a flash of lightning illuminated the night sky, and the bird just took advantage of this opportunity to find the location of the island. Suddenly, a biting cold wind began to hit the slender body of the lone traveler, vowing to drive the uninvited guest back to the place it came from.But the more intense the storm, the greater the bird's resistance to the cold wind.It can feel that it is very close to its goal. The dark clouds finally dispersed like curtains being lifted.The island came into view.Those seeing this scene from a distance for the first time may mistakenly think that they are seeing a huge mountain range that shoots into the sky.But if they could come here on a sunny and clear day, they'd find that it wasn't a mountain—or some grand man-made structure—in fact, far more stunning than either. This is a tree. It takes up the entire island so that there is hardly a small piece of land on the island.At the base of the great tree was a fishing village by the harbor—a village known to its night elf inhabitants as Rut'theran.The existence of this island is obviously to house the sea beasts nearby, and this is how the island got its name. This is Teldrassil... the second World Tree. Ten thousand years ago, the original World Tree, Nordrassil, was planted on Mount Hyjal after the destruction of the Well of Eternity, the original source of magic for the night elves.Nordrassil, located on the second Well of Eternity created by Illidan, originally existed for two purposes.Not only does it prevent others from infecting the new well's magic, but it also prevents the well's magic from becoming too powerful over time.The big tree blessed by the three guardian dragons, Alexstrasza the oath-binder, Nozdormu the guardian of time, and Ysera the guardian of the dream, is not only the guardian of Azeroth, but also the guardian of Azeroth. Closely linked to the immortality of the night elves. However, less than ten years ago, Nordrassil suffered great damage in a war against the night elves against their most primitive enemy - the Burning Legion, and it was their first invasion that brought the tree to life. The birth of the tree.Nordrassil's current situation not only deprived the night elves of those enviable abilities, but worse, it seriously affected the night elves' immortality.Although Nordrassil's roots are still slowly growing, the night elves' immortality has not yet been restored. Finally, the druids—after their worries were soothed by their new leader, Fandral—planted Teldrassil. The storm crow stopped before seeing the top.Even if Teldrassil is not as majestic as the first World Tree, no one can deny that the new World Tree is a wonder of the world, a majestic natural landscape created by the druids through the magic of Azeroth itself.The trunks of Teldrassil are even larger than the lands of some nations.More than that, its trunk was far less massive than its canopy—Nordrassil's canopy seemed to stretch infinitely toward the horizon. Something caught the bird's attention, so it raised its head and looked in the direction just now.On that massive branch, Stormcrow noticed something moving between the stone structures.Indeed, the black shadows protruding from the branches are several buildings. As the bird flew upward, other smaller buildings whizzed past it.For a moment it even saw a lake shimmering among the foliage.The broad trunk has deep plowing furrows.And farther ahead, the peak of a mountain appeared. As the Stormcrow reached the higher trunk, it glimpsed another wonder sitting on the tallest of these mighty branches.From that shadow emerged not only the light of fire, but bits of moonlight could also be discerned.Magnificent Darnassus is the capital of this tree-loving race.Even viewing it from afar, Darnassus is no less famous than the likes of Human Stormwind or Orgrimmar of Orcs. The dew collected by the giant tree created and nourished the many streams and lakes in its trunk, one of which was so wide that Darnassus grew and developed under its nourishment.The night elves later used its waters to keep the temple gardens' majestic storms alive, as well as the intricate waterways that connect the city.Farther north across the waters, the druids built their own temple, the Cenarion Circle, wrapped in the jungle. But the bird turned away, not only from Darnassus, but from all the incredible cities that sat in the canopy.Although the scenery here is very beautiful, the destination of the storm crow is far away from here below. Once descending to only a few dozen yards from land, the gigantic crow uses its natural ability to flap its wings to slow its descent.As it prepares to land, it extends its pair of lower limbs. Just before it touched the ground, the size of the storm crow increased dramatically, becoming taller than a person in an instant.Its legs became thicker and slender, and its sharp claws changed into a pair of feet wearing straw sandals.At the same time, its pair of wings began to shrink and stretch, and fingers grew out of the wingtips.Feathers are replaced by thick dark green hair.He wore a ponytail tied at the back of his head, and his beard extended to his chest, now covered by his cloak. Its beak blends back into its face to form a protruding snout, and its wide mouth is lined with numerous fine lines.Its ebony plumage morphed into the purple skin characteristic of the shapeshifter and his isle-dwelling kin. Blore Bearskin, as a night elf, his appearance is very similar to most druids.In fact, his massive muscles make him more of a warrior than other druids.Although his chaotic and restless nature gives him a fuller, more mature air, he still sees other druids as equals. He looked around and saw no other druids, but he could feel them close by.This suits him.He had longed to be alone for a while before joining the others. At this time, countless thoughts echoed in his mind.What worries him most is his mentor, his guide.Every time Broll returned to Teldrassil, the burly night elf would think of his mentor.He knew that if it weren't for his mentor, he would never have become who he was now - although Blore didn't think he was a qualified druid himself.In fact... none of the druids called here, including Fandral, would be standing here without Malfurion Stormrage. Malfurion was more than their leader: he was the first night elf to answer the call of the demigod Cenarius to train and become Azeroth's first mortal druid.The God of the Jungle saw the potential in this ten-year-old night elf, and regarded him as a medium to connect with the outside world, and then cultivated him and gave him the way of druid.Before Malfurion could complete his arcane training, he was caught up in that first battle against demons and traitors of his kind - including the night elves' queen Azshara and her cunning vizier Harveys. The huge war zone is over.If it weren't for Malfurion's efforts, many people believe that Azeroth would have been destroyed long ago. Legends of his great exploits have lived on through the years.Malfurion sacrificed centuries of his own over and over again for the sake of his world and his people.After the others fell, he returned to take their place and continued the fight.Malfurion wasn't just a master of nature, he was a hero in battle. Only recently, however, with a long peace once again possible, Malfurion realized that his druid brothers were trying to return to their original, destined trajectory.The past is gone, and the future is a mystery to be explored quietly and calmly.Indeed, Malfurion had warned them that their lives were far better than they had been: that losing their immortality and allowing them to be a part of the vibrant life of Azeroth was far better than standing on the sidelines forever. "Malfurion..." he murmured.Apart from two other people in his life, no one influenced him more than his mentor.He owed Malfurion too much...but he was as powerless as anyone else to change the archdruid's terrible fate. Blore narrowed his eyes and returned to the present from his thoughts.He felt someone walking behind him.The night elf knew who it was long before he turned around.That unique aura has revealed the unique identity of that druid. "May the spirit of the forest bless you, Blore Bearskin," said the comer in his booming voice. "I sense you near here, I've always wanted to see you." Blore nodded.Even though he hadn't expected this person to come, he was more than happy to see someone who greeted him. "Elder Hamuul Runetotem, you have teleported from Thunder Bluff." Blore is similar to his kind, but his newly arrived friend is not.His body was similar to that of a night elf or a human, except that he had shoulders that were thicker than the mighty Blore's.Unlike the other druids, he wore the loose fur coat of his tribe, with two long red straps securing the leather armor at his shoulders to his blood-stained skirt.Stripes of red, gold and blue adorn the wrists of his forearms. But what really sets Hamuul apart from the others is his tauren status.Heavy cleft hooves bear his massive body, like his kin, and his head is that of a bull.Of course, no one dared to say that in front of the tauren at the risk of their limbs being broken and their corpses lying in the wilderness.He wears a ceremonial nose ring, and long horns protrude from the sides. Despite his tribe's signature hunchback, Hamuul was over eight feet tall.His wispy brown-gray manes were whiter than when Blore first saw him.His braids, which were beginning to gray, hung across his chest.He had only recently responded to the call of the druids with Malfurion's encouragement and became an important part of them.He was the first tauren of his kind to become a druid in nearly twenty centuries.While there are many tauren druids today, none have been more successful than Hamuul. "Although it was surprisingly quiet, the journey was very peaceful," said the tauren.His pale green pupils narrowed on heavy lids, as if he had just swallowed something to say. The night elf nodded, and he began to wonder how he was being treated by the others.Blore had been in the spotlight since birth...all because of one thing he had in common with Malfurion, one thing that marked his flaws. Two feet of antlers grew from his temples, and even if they were not as dazzling as the antlers of the famous Archdruid, they were enough to be envied by others.They had been with Blore since birth, and the tiny bumps on them seemed to herald his extraordinary future.As a child, he was told that one day he would become a legend. But while the pair of antlers were considered a personal gift, Blore considered them an ominous omen, and it seemed to him that his life had proved him perfectly right. What on earth were those horns for when he needed them most?As he confronts the evil demon pit lord Azgalor, when the prophecies of the past seem to be finally being fulfilled, when he wields the sigil of Remulos and unleashes his magical powers, Broll's comrades-in-arms Use his sacrifice to push back the enemy's army. But, once again, he proved up to the task.Azgalor swung his destructive blade and finally broke the night elf's thin defenses.He lost his charm the moment the blade was swung at him. The demon's blade instantly corroded the power of the rune, and a burst of twisted magical energy devoured the last of Blore's guardians. Since then the night elf has tried more than once to chop off the pair of antlers and burn their knots to stop their growth.Yet he was never able to actually put it into practice. Blore realized that Hamuul had been watching him quietly and patiently. "She will always be by your side. The spirits of those we love will always protect us," said the tauren. "I'm not thinking about Anasa." The night elf whispered against his will. Hamuul's horns drooped. "I apologize for bringing her up to you." Blore waved away the tauren's remorse. "You've done nothing wrong," he whispered. "Let's keep going, the others should have reached the gate as usual—" Hamuul frowned. "But we don't have to go to the Cenarion Circle in Darnassus. Fandral tends to hold meetings here...actually, across from where we stand now! Don't you know that?" "I haven't..." Blore didn't question the Archdruid's decision.After all, as the leader of the druids, Fandral Buckhelm knew what the others were interested in.Since he thinks it wiser to hold the meeting here than in Darnassus, do as he says.There must be a reason for this— Then it occurred to him that maybe Fandral had found a way to free their mentor. "Let's go," he said to Hamuul, as the night elves became so anxious to reach the meeting place.Driven by that deep and firm belief, Blore, who returned to Teldrassil, believed that Fandral must have found some way to save Malfurion. But if not... the night elf couldn't help but shudder.If not, what else in this world can a druid do—— Remark: (1) The original book is "Tyrande Windtalker". After comparing with other translations including the translation in WOW, it is changed to the more accurate "Tyrande Windtalker".All "Tyrande Whisperwind" that appear after this article are translated names after changes. (2) Here, there is a language problem in the original book, so half a sentence with repetitive meaning and causing language problems has been deleted.