Shandris’s expression tightened, but there was also a hint of approval.

“It’s daring. Dangerous. And the only hope at this point, I’d say.”

“I do not intend for him to enter alone.”

“I suspected you had something in mind, so I prepared in advance for a longer journey!” The other night elf’s eyes glowed with anticipation. Shandris leapt to her feet, her fist pressed against her breast. “I can depart immediately from here! I know the danger and the necessity of this mission! It cannot be entrusted to just anyone—”

“Exactly.” Tyrande straightened, determined that she speak now as ruler. “And that is why I shall be the one who will join him.”

Her words struck like lightning. Shandris stumbled back a step.

She gaped at the high priestess.

“You? But Darnassus needs you! I am the one who must go—”

“Elune has shown me that I, as her high priestess, am best suited. This task will require the full teachings of the Sisterhood and as its head I could ask no other to do this. In addition, no one knows Malfurion as I do… no one is bound to him as I am. If his dreamform can be found, I am the one who will be able to do it.”

Her gaze was strong. “And while saving Malfurion is of the utmost desire for me personally, he may also be Azeroth’s only hope. As high priestess I must be the one who accompanies Broll …”

Shandris finally nodded. But though agreeing, the general still had questions.

“What does Fandral think of this?”

“I do not answer to Fandral.”

“Sometimes he seems not to understand that.” There was a brief moment of humor in Shandris’s eyes. She was one of the handful aware that he and her mistress did not always see eye to eye on matters of how Tyrande governed, especially when her decisions affected the druids and his sphere of influence. Then, growing serious again, she continued, “And Darnassus?”

“Darnassus must be yours to guard, Shandris, as you have done when I have had to leave it for other matters of state.”

“This is hardly the same …” Still, once more the warrior went down on one knee. “But I will protect the city and our realm as always until your return.”

Her pointed emphasis of the last word was almost a demand that Tyrande make certain that she would come back. The night elf ruler reached out and touched Shandris on the cheek.

“My daughter …”

At those words, the hardened warrior leapt forward and wrapped her arms around the high priestess. Shandris buried her face in Tyrande’s neck.

“Mother …” she whispered in a voice that sounded exactly like that of the frightened orphan of so long ago.

Then, just as quickly, Shandris pulled back. Other than a tearstain down one cheek, she looked again like the seasoned commander of the Sentinels. She saluted Tyrande.

“I’ve just the mount for you,” Shandris said. “As I said, he’s ready for a long journey. Also, there is no finer. He’s not far away.

Just follow me.”

Shandris turned crisply and led her deeper into the woods.

Neither spoke, but both were deep in thought.

After almost five minutes Tyrande heard the shuffling of a large creature. As Shandris did not show any concern, the high priestess was content to follow.

A moment later they confronted a large male hippogryph tethered to a massive oak. His plumage was more striking than those animals ridden by the group, the feathers darker and more dramatic, with crimson lines across the ebony wings and slight turquoise markings on the upper edges. Crimson feathers also lined the otherwise blue-black head. The hippogryph also wore a protective helm over his head and some body armor. Although all hippogryphs were powerful, this one was of a species especially adept at war.

“He and I have flown into battle together often. You may trust him as you trust me,” the general said quietly. “His name is Jai’alator.”

“‘Noble blade of Elune,’” Tyrande translated. “A proud name that.”

The hippogryph bowed his great head. The winged creatures were not simple beasts. They had an intelligence and were considered allies, not servants. They allowed themselves to be ridden.

“I am honored to fly with you,” Tyrande told the hippogryph.

Shandris undid the reins and handed them to her mistress. “He answers to ‘Jai.’ If you fly just above the trees, the others won’t see you depart. I’ll join the party in a few minutes, then delay them some more.”

Nodding, the high priestess took the reins. “Thank you, Shandris.” Tyrande recalled one last thing. “Shandris… be on alert.”

The general’s eyes narrowed. “For what?”

How to explain what she had fought against? “For that which the light of Elune must melt away …”

Shandris frowned at the explanation, but said nothing. She saluted once more, then whirled around and marched off in the direction of the other priestesses.

The high priestess wiped moisture from her own eye, then turned her thoughts to her imminent journey… not the least problem of which would be convincing Broll Bearmantle to take her to Ashenvale.

To the Great Tree.

And to the portal into the Emerald Dream.

Broll landed just beyond sight of Auberdine, already impatient to be on his way from its vicinity. Although officially part of the night elf realm, the region in general — called Darkshore due to the odd mist that tended to blanket everything — was mostly shunned by his race.

There had been attempts made to settle this land — some of them not by his kind — but all had fallen to failure. Ruins dotted the wilds, many of them now housing threats to travelers willing or forced to journey through the area.

Auberdine was the only stronghold, if it could be called that. It was a dismal place by not only night elf standards, but even those of humans or dwarves. There ever seemed a cover of storm clouds over the area and a chill wind that cut through to the soul.

Auberdine existed more out of necessity than anything else, for Darnassus required some place on the immediate mainland where dealing with the outside world could take place.

Those of his people who populated the town were generally looked down on by the inhabitants of the capital, a failing that even Broll found himself suffering at times. Auberdine consisted of outcasts and misfits. True, there was a garrison of the Sentinels there and even some druids, but they remained as separate as possible from the towns-folk.

Broll returned to his true form, and cursed as he shook his foot.

In his storm crow form, his arms became his wings and his feet his talons. Unfortunately, some of the buds had struck at the latter, leaving the druid with the idol sealed to that foot.

Broll drew some herbs from a pouch at his waist and scattered them over the sap. As if snow touched by the sun, the sap finally softened, then melted away. The Idol of Remulos dropped ignominiously to the ground.

Retrieving it, Broll peered ahead. The path was dark, and although that did not bother a night elf much, he wondered why there was not some illumination on the horizon even despite the mists. In fact, he could not recall any glow at all during his descent.

Auberdine should have been lit enough to be seen from where he was, if only for the sake of the other races who frequented the settlement.

With a grunt, the druid moved on. He could have landed closer to the town but had not wanted to call any more attention to his presence than necessary.

Secreting the idol in a hidden place in his cloak, Broll picked up his pace. He hoped that Fandral would not notice his theft for some time. There was no reason for the archdruid to retrieve the figurine

… but Broll never trusted his luck.

As he reached the top of a hill, the druid grew more wary. He still could not see any illumination from Auberdine, and this close the mist should have been no impediment whatsoever.