…and look within!”

Broll obeyed…and in the mist ahead, just barely discernible, formed a shadow. A shadow of a tree.

A tree so foul that nature could never have produced it.

“My shan’do is down there,” the night elf growled.

“And with him the cause of the Nightmare,” his mount solemnly added.

From where he was, the Nightmare was a vast gray-green mass that pulsated as if alive. Shapes moved through it, unsettling shapes that could not be identified and yet almost looked like things that Broll should have recognized. He wondered why they remained so hidden and wondered what would happen if and when they were revealed. The druid shuddered.

The Nightmare was also filled with powerful flashes of magic that came not only in emerald, but a brackish green, a bloody crimson and more. The druid could sense that the emerald ones were from the defenders…the others he could only assume had more vile purpose. Broll could sense astounding forces at work and knew that what he saw was only a hint of the monumental spells at play.

However, for all that, the emerald-black that was the Nightmare had not retreated and, in fact, seemed darker yet near where he and the dragon were heading.

So dark…and yet the shadow cast looks more distinct than ever…the night elf thought. But where was the tree that made it?

“A question of great import, I think,” the dragon responded, as if Broll had spoken out loud. In a tone more concerned, she added, “And one we hope to discover the answer to soon!”

The druid jerked as something else abruptly became obvious.

There was now whispering even up where they flew. It had a frantic, hungry feel to it.

“There’s something wrong! We’d better—”

But the dragon had also sensed the danger. She banked sharply in an attempt to avoid whatever was about to happen.

What had been whispers now became screams. There were so many of them that even as loud as they were — loud enough to force Broll to cover his ears — what they were saying could still not be understood. The druid found himself shivering uncontrollably and even the dragon strained as she flew.

A great black gap opened in front of the pair.

The druid blinked. Not a gap.

A deep and terrible maw.

And from its depths erupted the screams with even more force.

Although he could not make out their words, he sensed their fear.

Yet that fear was also a weapon being used against Broll and the dragon by the Nightmare Lord.

The druid noticed that the green dragon was no longer trying to fly forward. Her wings now beat hard in retreat. Yet they were still heading toward the evil gullet.

“It — is the power of their fear — the fear of the screaming voices — that pulls us! It is chaos and evil stripping their sanity to the core that fuels the Nightmare!” his mount roared. “Such force! It is as if I fight against thousands! It is all I can do to — to keep us this far from it!”

“A spell—”

“If I attempt to concentrate — on that — we will be in it before I can — can finish!”

But Broll had not been talking about a spell cast by the dragon.

He could see that, despite her tremendous abilities, she needed her entire focus on fighting the pull. The attack had been crafted just that way, the druid saw.

Yet an idea had occurred in that regard, an idea that came so suddenly that Broll wondered at it. He did not know if it would work, but he would try.

And so, as his companion fought the physical fury of the shrieking gullet, the druid began channeling an unusual spell. It was meant to be a healing one, a spell of tranquility.

He concentrated, trying to recall what his shan’do had taught him. Indeed, as he focused, Broll could almost imagine Malfurion’s voice guiding him along.

The secret of the tranquility spell is to call upon that most peaceful, most caring part of Azeroth’s nature…of the Emerald Dream’s nature…

They were nearly upon the dark maw. Broll sensed when he was just close enough to hope for success and so close that he dared not wait any longer. The druid reached out to that of the Dream that remained pure.

He cast.

The spell was a small thing in comparison to the evil and fear it confronted. Broll did not in the least hope to destroy the sinister gullet.

He only wanted to give the female dragon the chance she needed.

“Be ready!” the druid warned.

It all hinged on what Broll believed the screams were. All he had seen thus far indicated that the Nightmare drew much of its strength from the growing legions of innocents falling prey to it when exhaustion finally made them sleep. The Nightmare used their darkest emotions to stir up their fearful visions. And that fear was what attacked now.

The spell touched the nearest vague shapes, the tortured slaves of the Nightmare.

Just for a moment — the briefest of moments — some little bit of the Nightmare’s hold of fear on the screaming voices lessened.

The female dragon let out a roar as she thrust herself far back from the abyss. Broll grabbed hold of her thick neck as he struggled to remain with her. The emerald leviathan beat and beat her wings until the dark maw was only a small speck.

But as quickly as the spell acted, it shattered. The screaming rose higher and more frantic again. The horrific abyss swelled, drawing them closer once more.

Then a huge emerald form materialized between the pair and the Nightmare. It spread its magnificent wings wide and from it radiated a wondrous glow that reminded the druid of what this realm had been before the corruption.

Away with you! it called to the Nightmare’s attack. Away!

Behind the massive newcomer, other green dragons appeared.

As mighty as their own efforts were, even combined those paled before the tremendous power of the gigantic dragon.

The abyss receded some distance. Though they were not vanquished, the screams faded to something now much more tolerable.

Ysera, mistress of the Emerald Dream, had come in response to Malfurion’s call.

Lucan was alone in the mist with a volatile green dragon. Worse, he was astride the neck of this dragon, something that Eranikus evidently liked less than even him.

“We shouldn’t have split up!” the leviathan rumbled. “Not here!

Not now!”

The cartographer said nothing. He was feeling worthless. Thus far, he had fled from one place to the next as he sought to escape his growing nightmares, been seized by one powerful figure after another, and looked down upon by most as at best a child.

And now he was surely in a place where what little skill he had even as an assistant mapmaker was fairly useless.

The green dragon peered at the murky realm, his ire continuing to rise. Much of it was bitterness directed at himself. “I should have been there for her, but no, I failed! Now she’s out there facing the Nightmare without me!”

Lucan knew better than to make any comment. What point would there have been? He was nothing…no, less than nothing.

Eranikus let out another growl, but this one directed at the Nightmare. “What is it that keeps just at the periphery of our vision? What insidious force is the Nightmare still holding in reserve…and why?”

The human opened his mouth to make a suggestion, then quickly shut it. His ideas were hardly worth merit.

And yet…there suddenly came to his mind a glimmer of a notion, one that suddenly excited Lucan so much that it was all he could do to keep from shouting it out to Eranikus. What held him back was knowing that the dragon would never permit him to attempt such a thing, if it were even possible…and if it was wise to try at all.

But Lucan could not restrain himself. He had been rescued more than once by the others. It was time he repaid them for once by using his unsettling abilities to their benefit. At the very worst, he would rid them of his sorry self.