“This way!” Malfurion grabbed his brother by the arm and dragged Illidan back to the others. Tyrande already sat upon Ysera. She aided Illidan up, then Malfurion.

At that moment, a huge form hovered overhead. The druid instinctively expected some demonic horror, then saw that it was none other than Krasus and Alexstrasza.

“The Demon Soul!” the mage shouted. “You have it still?”

The night elf slapped one of the pouches at his waist. He had secreted the disk in it just before Ysera had landed.

Krasus nodded in relief. “Hurry, then! We must fly fast and far! Even the air will not be safe!”

Well aware by now that the mage knew so much more than he had yet admitted, Malfurion held on tight. Ysera rose from the rubble just as another crevice opened up beneath her paws.

“Zin-Azshari is going…” the cowled spellcaster cried, “and it is only the beginning!”

The two dragons beat their wings as hard as they could, but they moved as if flying through tar. Malfurion looked behind and saw that the sky above the Well no longer even existed. A huge funnel cloud enshrouded everything. Illidan had spoken much of the truth, it seemed. Between the spellwork of the demons, that of the elder gods, and the defenders’ own efforts, the Well of Eternity had been torn asunder once too often.

Had he and his friends saved the world, only to destroy it?

What first he took for deafening thunder rattled the druid. He clutched his ears, waiting for it to pass.

“Look!” cried Tyrande, her lips near enough to him for her voice to still be heard. “The city!”

They watched… watched as the ground beyond Zin-Azshari broke apart. A great canyon miles deep opened. The entire capital literally began sliding toward the Well.

“The… pull… grows… greater!” Ysera roared.

The Well was drawing the surrounding regions into its maw, literally devouring Kalimdor. Zin-Azshari now floated in the black waters, an island bobbing about like so much flotsam. Ironically, the palace still stood mostly intact, although the tower where the Highborne had moved after the destruction of their previous sanctum leaned precariously.

Ominous bolts of energy played around the city as it neared the maelstrom’s gullet. Unlike much of what the Well tore loose from Kalimdor, Zin-Azshari headed straight for the center. Malfurion felt Tyrande’s grip on him tighten to the point of pain.

“It’s going…” she whispered. “It’s going…”

Around her, Azshara’s handmaidens screamed. Vashj clung to her leg. The queen held her empty goblet, refusing to accept what was happening to her palace. She was Azshara, Light of Lights, supreme ruler of her people! She had not permitted this!

Sargeras would not be coming. Azshara understood that, although she had not said so to her followers. It would not do to let them know that she realized that she had erred. Somehow, the rabble had kept him from coming to Kalimdor… from coming to her.

The rumbling grew louder. A darkness in which even night elves could not see suddenly enveloped the palace. The only illumination came from the untamed forces of the Well. Black water began pouring into the palace, washing away two of her servants. Their screams were quickly drowned out.

I am Azshara! she silently insisted, her expression constant. With but a thought, the queen created a shield that surrounded her and those still remaining. My desires are absolute!

Her power kept the water at bay, but the pressure of maintaining her shield quickly grew troublesome. Azshara’s brow furrowed and beads of sweat — the first sweat of her life — appeared on her forehead.

Then… voices whispered from the gloom, voices calling to her, promising her escape.

There is a way… there is a way… you will become more than you ever were… more than you ever were… we can help… we can help…

The queen was no fool. She knew her shield would not last much longer. Then the Well would claim her and her followers and the glory that was Azshara would be lost to the world.

The silver-tressed night elf nodded.

“Ungh!” The goblet fell from her hand. Her body was wracked with pain. She felt her limbs twisting, curling. Her spine felt fluid, as if much of it had instantly melted away…

You will be more than you have ever been… promised the voices. And when the time comes, for what we grant you… you will serve us well…

The last vestiges of her shield spell failed. Azshara shrieked as the waters overwhelmed her. In the background, she heard other cries as well… her handmaidens, the guards, and the rest of the Highborne who still served her.

The Well filled her lungs…

But… she did not drown.

Krasus, too, watched as the vast city, the epitome of the night elf civilization, was sucked whole into the throat of the maelstrom. He shivered, not only because of the destruction before him, but of the knowledge that he had of the future. The dragon mage had hoped to see Zin-Azshari torn apart before it sank, but that part of history had remained true. The city would sink to the depths… and, over the centuries, begin to birth a new horror.

There was nothing he could do about that now. Krasus looked away from the Well, looked away from the devastation spreading rapidly in all directions. Huge chunks of Kalimdor continued to be torn into the Well with no sign of the terror lessening. Already several miles of land beyond Zin-Azshari had vanished. The only good thing was that the Burning Legion had long ago sent fleeing any life that had remained. So far, only parched soil and the bones of the dead fell victim… but if the catastrophe did not slow soon, Krasus wondered if anything would remain.

It has to, though! he insisted. History says it must be so!

But he knew too well that Time had already unraveled far too much… and that he was, in great part, responsible.

Krasus could only pray…

R honin thanked the stars that he saw little in the way of life before reaching the host. It would have been impossible for two dragons and a weary wizard to save anyone still so near the region of the Well. The only people he discovered was a large band of Highborne riding for their lives toward the host. Fortunately, they had nearly made it by the time he and the dragons came upon them.

A quick descent and an even quicker conversation revealed the surprising truth. Their leader, one Dath’Remar Sunstrider, told the story of their attempt to flee with Tyrande. Dath’Remar’s regret over losing her was clear and Rhonin, who had sensed Malfurion’s contact with her, informed the sorcerer that she had survived the escape. He could not promise that Tyrande still lived, although the wizard doubted that Malfurion would let anything happen to the female night elf once he had been reunited with her.

Rhonin and the dragons guided the Highborne to the host, preventing, in the process, any fight breaking out between the two factions. With the bronze dragon guarding the Highborne — for their own safety — the human and his mount sought out Jarod.

They found the commander already astride his night saber and anxiously awaiting word. Rhonin smiled in relief as he realized that the night elves and their allies were already prepared to move.

Still atop the red, he quickly greeted Jarod, then said, “We have to get the host moving! All the way to Mount Hyjal! The portal’s been destroyed, but all that spellwork around the Well has caused chaos! It’s eating itself up and taking everything around it with it!”

“Gods…” But Jarod’s shock quickly subsided as his inherent sense of responsibility took over. He summoned a herald who Rhonin realized the former guard captain had kept handy just for such news. “Give the signal to reverse direction!” Calling up two more riders, Jarod added, “Send word to the officers and nobles! We move at swiftest pace to Mount Hyjal! No stopping! Those who need assistance will be granted it, but no one hesitates and no one stays behind! Go!”