The Emerald Dream has layers, Malfurion. Levels upon levels. She of the Dreaming discovered these through experience. The Earth Warder likely will not know of them. You may be able to use such a path to circumvent his defenses and keep from his attention for a time.

This was something unexpected. Malfurion’s hopes rose. Should he succeed in this, perhaps he could use such a method to infiltrate the palace.

But he had to concentrate on one matter at a time. While his heart yearned to rescue Tyrande, the fate of all his people — and the tauren, Earthen, and others — was of far more consequence. She would have been the first to tell him so.

It did not make his feeling of guilt any less.

Can I learn quickly how to do this? he asked of the demigod.

You, yes. It is all only a matter of perspective… see…

The image gestured… and around the pair an idyllic landscape appeared. It was without imperfection. Malfurion recognized hills and valleys that in the mortal plane had been ravaged beyond recognition by the Burning Legion. The Emerald Dream was as the world had been upon its creation.

The druid looked, but saw nothing he had not already experienced previous.

You note the culmination, but even perfection comes in stages. Behold…

Cenarius reached down, his hand gigantic as it touched the pristine world. The forest lord seized a bit of field — and seemed to flip the entire landscape over.

It vanished as he released his grip and in its place was again a primitive Kalimdor, but a Kalimdor in which some new, subtle differences from the previous landcape could be seen. Hills were not as large in some places and a river Malfurion knew did not flow into quite the same region as before. There was a small mountain chain where plains should have existed.

Before the creation, there was the growth, the testing, the earlier stages. This is one.

It was and was not the Emerald Dream. The druid recognized immediately that this was a place of limited scope — and, therefore, use — a Kalimdor that would not enable him to reach every location existing on the mortal plane.

Yet… Cenarius believed it could help him with the black dragon.

The looming figure of the woodland deity pointed off in the distance. Walk it as you would the other, Malfurion, but remain clear of its edges. It is an incomplete place and to wander off it could mean being lost in an endless limbo. I speak of this from dread experience.

Cenarius said no more, but his meaning was clear. If Malfurion lost his way, there would be no rescue.

Despite that dread knowledge, the night elf was determined to continue on. How do I return?

As you always have. Seek to follow your way back to your physical self. The path will become known to you.

All so simple… providing one had the training as he did.

Cenarius’s image began to fade. Malfurion stopped him.

The others, he said, referring to the forest lord’s fellow demigods. Have you been able to convince them?

Aviana has spoken alongside me. The die is cast. We must now only decide how.

Malfurion barely checked his disappointment. He had been pressing for the demigods to take a more active part in the host’s desperate efforts and, while Cenarius had just indicated that his fellows had agree to do so, now they would debate the manner. With such beings, that debate might last long past the struggle. Kalimdor could be an empty, dead shell before then.

Fear not, Malfurion, the forest lord said, smiling knowingly. I shall endeavor to hasten their decision.

The druid had left open his innermost thoughts, a beginner’s mistake. Forgive me! I meant no disrespect! I —

Cenarius, already fading, shook his antlered head. He pointed a finger — a finger which ended in a gnarled talon of wood — and concluded, There is no disrespect in trying to urge those suffering from sloth to fulfill their duties…

With that, the stag god vanished.

The druid had expected to return to his body and inform the others of what he had learned, but the unfinished landscape Cenarius had revealed to him already lay open. Malfurion feared that if he took the time to first return to the mortal plane, it might prove more difficult than the demigod believed for him to find his way back to this version of early Kalimdor.

Unwilling to check his impulse any longer, he leapt. As with the path Malfurion usually took, the hazy, emerald light still pervaded everything. In truth, he could not tell any difference between one place and another save for the occasional variation in features.

Over hills and valleys and plains, Malfurion flew. From Krasus he knew the general direction where the dragons tended to live. Obviously, the Earth Warder would not maintain his sanctum so near the others, but Krasus had assured him that the ancient race were creatures of habit. If the druid began his hunt near the ancestral grounds, there was a good chance he might discover something.

The land below became more mountainous, yet, these peaks were neither the perfectly pointed ones of his past journeys into the dream realm nor were they the weathered ones of the mortal plane. Instead, they were, as Cenarius had hinted, unfinished. One peak literally lacked its northern face, the earth and rock looking as if some great knife had sheered it off. Malfurion could see the veins of minerals and bits of cavern within. Another peak had a peculiar crown that made it appear as if someone had been molding it like clay but had lost interest.

Tearing his eyes from such fascinating displays, the druid inspected the area as a whole. This was definitely part of the dragon lands. Now all he had to do was find some trace of Neltharion.

As with from the other level, Malfurion probed with his senses for the black dragon’s particular trace. He detected others and quickly identified Ysera and one he believed to be Alexstrasza. Other, fainter traces Malfurion determined to be from lesser dragons and, therefore, not of interest.

Moving slowly along, the druid searched in every direction. With each failure, he began to wonder if perhaps Neltharion had not been so naive after all. Perhaps, the black leviathan was more familiar with this plane than Cenarius knew and had shielded himself. If so, Malfurion could wander forever and not find a single hint.

He suddenly halted. A trace that he had offhandedly rejected as belonging to a minor dragon suddenly caught his attention again. It had a familiarity to it that should not have been possible. Malfurion focused on it…

The facade peeled away almost immediately. Neltharion’s trace lay revealed to the druid. Spells that likely would have kept the Earth Warder hidden from anyone on either the mortal plane or even in the Emerald Dream had proven almost laughably weak here. However, Malfurion tried not to grow overconfident. It was one thing to track the black dragon, another to keep from his notice no matter on what plane. The madness inflicting Neltharion had given him an extreme paranoia that had augmented his higher senses. Even the slightest mistake by the druid might mean discovery.

With the need for utmost caution in mind, Malfurion followed the trace. It took him further on, toward a region where the landscape became more vague, more undefined. Recalling Cenarius’s warnings concerning the edges, the druid slowed.

The black dragon was near. Malfurion sensed him just where the mountains began to blur. He also sensed something else, a foul taint that permeated the region and felt far older than anything else. It reminded the druid of what he had felt when probing deep into the Demon Soul. It had not only been imbued with Neltharion’s madness, but something more sinister. Then, though, it had only been a trace and he had thought little of it.

What could it be?

Deciding that he could not worry about it now, Malfurion ventured closer. The landscape rippled — and suddenly his dream form reentered the mortal plane.