The Emerald Dream.

What is this place? Varian asked for all of them.

Also in dreamform, Malfurion explained, This is the place where dreams and the waking meet…once a place of gentle communion, but now all but overrun by the Nightmare…

Then…what point is there in bringing us here? At least we should fall in our own lands? Many agreed.

Because only here can you make the difference…only here will your weapons find use…

That was the encouragement they needed. Yet, even then, many began to divide up by race and treaty. That would not do. Malfurion needed them as one, not many.

Varian will lead you… he stated flatly.

But the king looked outraged at the sight of the orcs. I won’t lead this filth! Let the Nightmare take them and be damned —

As it took your son and so many others in Stormwind City?

Only by defeating the Nightmare can you ever hope to have Anduin returned to you…and that can only happen if we all work together…

I — Varian visibly struggled between his hatred and his love.

Love won out. Very well…let it happen…

Now, though, many of the Horde looked reluctant to join any force led by Varian. But then the tauren leader Baine took up a place by the human. I will trust that this one chosen by a friend of my people will act with honor toward all…

The tauren’s declaration shattered resistance. Malfurion gave thanks, then concentrated. He found those that had been from the start seeking to stem the Nightmare. Their numbers were fewer yet, which raised his concern. He reached out and touched the spirit of Zaetar.

Malfurion Stormrage? Remulos’s brother asked in surprise and desperate hope.

The night elf let him touch his memories, instantly giving the spirit all he needed to know. Zaetar’s hopes swelled, then dropped. My brother?

I have no news of him.

Zaetar let this pass, though the lack of news clearly bothered him. He accepted Malfurion’s plan as the archdruid had revealed to him, but asked one last question, And these, all of these whom you have brought to us…they suspect nothing of your true intentions?

No…and if they do not…the Nightmare Lord may not…

The spirit said no more on the subject. Instead, Zaetar reached out to Varian. The king did well in concealing his surprise when he felt Zaetar’s distant presence.

We’re coming, he promised Remulos’s brother.

The king of Stormwind raised his sword — what was actually a part of his dreamform — and led his host forward.

The archdruid stared at Varian as the king moved on. Just for a moment, Varian’s countenance had seemed to change to something else. A wolf’s. A name came to mind, an ancient spirit revered by many races, including the night elves.

Goldrinn… Malfurion thought, recalling the legendary Ancient.

The white wolf had slaughtered hundreds of demons during the War of the Ancients before falling to their great numbers. Yet, his spirit was said to live on, watching over those he favored.

May you be one of those, the archdruid concluded, aware that he had likely imagined what he had seen. May Goldrinn watch over you and all those marching to meet our enemy…

And as the dreamform army moved on the Nightmare, others called by Malfurion and aided in their journey by the other druids began to join them. From his multiple viewpoint, Malfurion saw the coming of not just ancients whose calling was war, but those of others. Their shapes were as myriad as the species of trees of Azeroth and though many were tenders of learned paths, they were all ferocious defenders of the natural world. Some were winged, others clawed, and though their numbers were not great, each represented a mighty force in themselves.

They were far from alone, though. With them came the treants.

Even more resembling the forests they guarded, the treants were smaller and less powerful than the ancients, but were by no means only a slight presence. More numerous than the ancients, they were a force Malfurion welcomed, as were the dryads, also forest protectors and the powerful daughters of vanished Remulos.

Flying hippogryphs by the scores came, joined in aerial endeavor by other denizens of the sky, including gryphons, gargantuan moths, carrion birds, dragonhawks, and, foremost, the remaining dragons of the red, green, and even blue flights. Though led by others than their respective Aspects, the dragons were well versed in combat. The three dragonflights flew separate from one another, for each had its own method of battle, in addition to their mighty jaws and claws. The blue wielded magic spells of incredible power, the red breathed searing fire, and the green, of course, touched upon their dream abilities.

Kobolds and other creatures with great enmity toward all else also had agreed to at least join the mighty throng. Fearsome ursine furbolgs, more comfortable among wild animals than as part of Varian’s force, let out howls of anticipation at final combat. Giant panthers, tusked boars, fearsome basilisks, crocolisks, hyenas, and other animals, many of them in part herded by the more sentient, reptilian raptors, were just a part of the animal legions that followed. The druids and others also guided the beasts, who, if they did not know what the ultimate reason was for this struggle, they knew that their lives and their progeny were endangered.

Malfurion gave thanks to all of them, realizing more and more that each had a crucial role, that he needed them as much as they needed him.

Though even fewer in number than ever and among the last to join, the Forsaken were eager to lend their monstrous might as well. They stood with their allies in the Horde, awaiting their chance to strike back.

Malfurion watched all happen and felt both gratitude and regret.

Only Zaetar understood the truth. Only Zaetar understood that all this might be for nothing if what else the archdruid intended failed.

Thinking of the spirit caused the night elf to think also of Remulos. Cenarius’s son was nowhere to be sensed. Malfurion had hoped to find Remulos during this spell and the fact that he had not boded ill. Only where the Nightmare stood ascendant in the Dream were things shielded from the archdruid…and if Remulos was there —

Malfurion could not concern himself with the missing keeper, no matter how great his power would have enhanced their chances.

Indeed, the son of Cenarius was not even the first of his concerns.

That was and would always be Tyrande, whom once more he had utterly let down.

Tyrande…

No sooner had he thought of her than a brief, ever so brief presence touched his mind. He knew without hesitation that it was her, that it could only be her. Just as some ten thousand years earlier, Tyrande had always stood with him. She had done so even though he had forsaken her time and time again for the druidic path. If she perished now…the years lost to them would that much more burn at his soul. He was the foremost — in his mind, the only — reason for their separations.

Malfurion could not help but shiver at such thoughts, for he also knew that she stood in the shadow of the tree that was his nemesis

…and that even the Mother Moon’s gifts were not the reason that she had been able to manage that momentary link.

The Nightmare Lord was inviting him.

The archdruid willed himself back into his body. He felt the tremendous relief on the part of both Broll and Hamuul at his return.

He also felt another near them…someone who should not be there.

Malfurion sprang to his feet the moment he had control. Broll and the tauren pulled back in surprise.

“Are you all right, Shan’do? Did something happen?”

But Malfurion did not answer them, instead steeling himself to face an unexpected danger to all of them.