Like an Infernal dropping upon the victims of Suramar, what was left of Captain Varo’then plummeted into the solidifying portal.

As suddenly as it had come, the power surging through Malfurion ceased. He felt a loss and yet, at the same time, a comfort that the world had not yet become entirely defenseless. Still dangling from Ysera’s back, he eyed Varo’then’s ultimate destination.

“Let us see if the lord of the Legion still rewards you after this, captain…”

A jolt nearly sent him falling after Varo’then. Ysera had a bat in each forepaw and although the dragon had just ripped out the throat of one, the second had torn through her wing.

Malfurion struggled to a more stable position, then took from another pouch a tiny bit of salve he had earlier mixed. The salve had been made from selected herbs, but although the druid had tested it on the battlefield, he was not at all certain that it would be strong enough to aid such a giant as Ysera.

Yet, from the moment Malfurion rubbed it on the base of her wing, the results prove far more than he could have anticipated. The tiny amount of salve spread beyond where he touched, quickly covering the entire appendage. The rips in Ysera’s wing quickly and completely mended, not even scars remaining to mark the savage wounds.

“I feel invigorated!” roared She of the Dreaming as she tore apart the second of the creatures. Ysera turned her head to Malfurion. Despite the shut lids, he felt the intensity of her gaze. “Cenarius has taught you well — ” She suddenly stopped. Her eyes flickered open, if just for a second. “But perhaps much of the credit must still go to your natural tie to that which you wield. Yes, much, indeed…”

The druid realized that her brief glimpse had been focused at the top of his head. He reached up… and discovered that the nubs now thrust out a good three inches.

He had begun to grow antlers just like those of his shan’do.

Before this newest revelation could take hold in his mind, a fearsome roar shook the area, drowning out even the storm.

Out of the storm clouds dropped Deathwing.

The black leviathan hurtled himself once more at the impenetrable spells. His body erupted continually where plates had not yet sealed the tears in his hide. His eyes were wide with utter rage. He flew toward the Demon Soul with a swiftness that took Malfurion’s breath away.

The air around the disk abruptly crackled, flashes of yellow and red giving warning as to the power bound to the dragon’s stolen creation. Malfurion sensed new forces at play, power instilled into the spell matrix in order to amplify its hold on the Demon Soul.

Deathwing struck the matrix head-on. The sky around him exploded with raw energy that should have seared the insane Aspect to death, but, although his flesh and scales clearly burned, Deathwing nevertheless pushed forward. He roared defiantly at the mighty forces set in array against him. His mouth twisted into an insane, reptilian grin that grew with each push closer to his goal.

“There are no boundaries to his obsession…” Ysera said, marveling at the other Aspect.

“Do you think he might actually make it?”

“The true question is… do we wish him to?”

Scales tore from the black’s already savaged body. The crackling bolts now focused fully on the giant, scorching him again and again. Yet, although he would now and then flinch under their intensity, Deathwing did not slow.

A red dragon flew past Malfurion and he saw both Rhonin and Brox astride. In a voice amplified by a spell, the wizard called, “Krasus warns that we have to be prepared! He thinks that Deathwing may yet manage to break the spell! We have to be ready to take on the black the moment that happens!”

“Deathwing…” Ysera muttered. “Seeing him now, how true that name rings…” To Rhonin, she roared, “We shall be ready!”

They would have to strike immediately and in concert. It was the only chance they had… and only a slightly better one than attempting to take the disk from the spell themselves. The night elf did not like their chances, but he would summon whatever he could of Kalimdor into him.

Aware that this might be the last hope for everything he loved, his heart instinctively went to Tyrande. Not Illidan, but Tyrande. He wanted to speak to her one last time, to know that she might live… even if he did not.

Malfurion?

The druid nearly slipped from Ysera’s back. At first he believed the voice in his head only illusion or perhaps some sinister ploy by the dark powers against which they fought, but, in truth, Malfurion sensed that this could be none other than Tyrande who contacted him now.

He recalled how she had been the one who had helped summon him back when he been unable to return to his body. Her link to the druid was far greater than he could have ever imagined and in the instant that he thought that, Malfurion sensed that she had noticed it, also.

Malfurion! she repeated with more hope. Oh, Malfurion! It is you!

Tyrande! You live! Are you — have they —

The priestess was quick to reassure him. The Mother Moon watched over me, praise be, and I was aided by Highborne seeking return to our people! I know that you did what you had to do! But listen! Your brother —

My brother… No sooner did she mention Illidan, then the druid sensed that presence once so much like his own very near Tyrande. So near, in fact, that they had to be touching.

Brother — began Illidan.

You! Something surged within Malfurion, something that he realized he had to check immediately. Yet, despite his best efforts, the druid was not completely successful.

Malfurion! came Tyrande’s plaintive call. Cease! You’ll kill him!

He had no idea exactly what it was he was doing to Illidan, but Malfurion concentrated, trying to draw back what he had released. To his relief, he felt Illidan recover quickly.

Never… never knew you had that in you… brother… While the tone held consistent with Illidan’s usual condescension, there lay in his mind a more stunned knowledge that the sibling he had felt weak was not.

You’ve much to answer for, Illidan!

If we all live, I will face my accusations…

His words held merit. What use was there to condemn Illidan if they were all to perish? Besides, Malfurion realized he wasted valuable power on his brother.

Putting thought of Illidan aside, the druid touched Tyrande again. You’re well? He’s done nothing to you?

Nothing, Malfurion. I swear by Elune… but we hide now in the ruins near the Well and dare not even attempt to cast a spell! The demon Mannoroth has warriors everywhere! I think they suspect where we are despite both Illidan’s sorcery and my prayers…

He wanted to go to her, but, once again, that was not possible. Malfurion swore. If we can succeed in —

But before he could relay more, Deathwing unleashed a horrific bellow. The raw emotions in the dragon’s cry shattered the links with Tyrande and Illidan and erased from Malfurion’s thoughts any other matter.

He found himself looking upon a dragon tortured beyond comprehension but yet who was so obsessed with what he sought that no pain could daunt him. Some of the plates sealed to the black were nearly slag and several portions of his body had been stripped clear of scale. Revealed underneath was raw flesh burnt or ripped away. The leviathan’s wings were torn in several places and it amazed Malfurion that the mad Earth Warder could still fly. Deathwing’s claws were gnarled and ruined, as if he had been scratching at some impervious object.

Then, Malfurion saw how near the black hovered from his prize.

“By the creators!” Ysera roared. “He will let nothing stop him!”

The druid silently nodded, then realized how dire her words truly were. It looked as if, at any moment, Deathwing would do the impossible… and then it would be up to those hoping to steal the disk from him to do the same.