A flash of light, and then the rock glowed faintly with a yellowish hue. Falric sneered at Aegwynn, and then grinned at the mages that surrounded them.

"Rock to gold," the gnome said. "How unoriginal."

"Actually," the elf said with a smile, "it is fool's gold."

Falric's grin fell. "What? It can't be!" He cast a quick identification spell, and then his face fell even farther. "Dammit!"

"You have a great deal to learn," the elf said, "but you have much potential, all of you. Falric, Manfred, Jonas, Natale, you will find that potential as Scavell's students." Again the soul—boring gaze. "Aegwynn, your destiny will come quite a bit sooner. We will reconvene in this glade in a month's time for the transfer of power. There is much you have to prepare for."

With that, all the councillors disappeared in a flash of light.

A month later, having taught Aegwynn about the legions of demons and their horrific minions that had been trying—and, through the grace of Guardians like Scavell, failing—to encroach upon the world, Scavell passed on the power of the Guardian to Aegwynn. It was like nothing she'd ever experienced before. Spells that once took all her concentration now required only the briefest of thoughts. Her perceptions changed as well, as she saw far beneath the surface of everything. Where it once took an effort—or a complex spell—to determine the nature of a plant or the emotional state of an animal, she could now divine it at the merest glance.

A year after that, Scavell died quietly in his sleep. When he realized he was dying, he had arranged to find new mages for Jonas, Natale, and Manfred to study under. Falric, at that point, was ready to be out on his own. Scavell willed all his belongings, as well as his servants, to Aegwynn.

Less than a month after Scavell's death, Aegwynn returned from the small village of Jortas in time to receive a mystical summons from the council.

As soon as she arrived at Tirisfal Glade, the gnome—whose name, she had since learned, was Erbag—said, "What do you think you were doing in Jortas?"

"Saving them from Zmodlor." Aegwynn would have thought that her answer was self—evident.

"And did you think to learn more about Zmodlor before you destroyed him? Did you plan a strategy that would dispose of him in a manner that would contain him without the populace of Jortas learning the truth? Or did you just blindly charge in and flail about, hoping you might succeed?"

Fatigue and irritation combined to make Aegwynn a bit more forthright than she truly should have been with the council. "None of those, Erbag, as you well know. There was no time to plan such a strategy or learn more. Doing so would have endangered the children in the schoolhouse that Zmodlor had taken possession of. There were children in there. Was I to hang back and—"

"What you were to do," Erbag said, "was as you were told. Did Scavell not teach you in the ways of the Tirisfalen? We proceed with caution and with—"

Aegwynn interrupted the gnome right back. "What you do, Erbag, is react. And that's all you do, and it's why you've made so little headway against these foul creatures over the last several centuries. Zmodlor was able to take over an entire schoolhouse and was prepared to use the children of Jortas for a ritual that would have poisoned their souls. It was only purest chance that I detected the foul stench of demon—magic and was able to arrive in time. Your methods are reactive."

"Of course they are!" Erbag was waving his arms back and forth now. "This council was created to react to the threat of the—"

"And it hasn't worked. If we are truly to stand firm against these monsters who would invade and destroy our homes, we cannot allow them to encroach upon us so easily that they capture children before we even know they're here. We must be proactive in seeking them out and eliminating them, or we will be overrun."

Erbag was not convinced. "And when the people start to realize that their lives are in danger and they panic uncontrollably?"

Rather than reply to the question, Aegwynn looked at the other councillors. "Does Erbag speak for you all, or is he simply the loudest?"

The oldest of the elves on the council, Relfthra, favored Aegwynn with a small smile. "Both, in fact, Magna." The smile fell. "Erbag is correct in that you are too reckless. Zmodlor was a minor demon in the service of Sargeras; he might have been able to provide us with useful intelligence about his master."

"Yes, and he might have killed all those children before providing us with that intelligence."

"Perhaps. But that is a risk that sometimes we must take in order to fight this war."

Aegwynn was aghast. "We're talking about the lives of children. Besides which, this isn't a war, it's a holding action—at best. And it will get us all killed, child and adult alike, if we're not careful." Before any of the other mages could criticize her, she said, "August mages of the council, with all respect, I beg you—I am exhausted and wish to sleep. Is there anything else?"

Relfthra's face darkened. "Remember your place, Magna Aegwynn. You are the Guardian, but you serve that function as the arm of the Council of Tirisfal. Never forget that."

"I doubt that you will ever allow me to," Aegwynn muttered. "If that is all?"

"For now," Relfthra said. The words were barely out of his mouth when Aegwynn teleported back to the Violet Citadel, in desperate need of sleep.

Lorena was disappointed, but not entirely surprised, to see Kristoff seated on Lady Proudmoore's throne. The lady herself avoided sitting on the thing whenever possible, but the chamberlain would insist on using it when he was left in charge.

Kristoff wasn't so much sitting in the throne as draping himself on it. His thin shoulders were slumped, and he was seated at an angle, one leg hanging off the side. He was reading a scroll when Lorena came in, led by Duree. "Colonel Lorena to see you, sir," the old woman said meekly.

"What is it, Colonel?" Kristoff asked without looking up from the scroll.

"Private Strov has disappeared," she said without preamble.

Now he looked up from the scroll, an eyebrow raised. "Is that name supposed to mean something to me?"

"It is if you bothered to pay attention to meetings in the lady's chambers."

Setting the scroll aside, Kristoff straightened in the throne. "Modify your tone when speaking to me in this room, Colonel."

Lorena looked aghast at the chamberlain. "I'll speak to you how I please in whatever room we're standing in, thank you very much. Lady Proudmoore asked you to manage Theramore in her absence. That doesn't mean you get to be the lady." She smirked. "You haven't the equipment for it, for starters."

Kristoff's eyebrows tented into a frown. "Until Lady Proudmoore returns, I am empowered to act in her stead, and you will treat that office with respect."

"Your office is that of chamberlain, Kristoff, which entitles you to be an advisor to Lady Proudmoore, same as me. So don't go getting delusions of grandeur."

Leaning back in the throne and picking the scroll back up, Kristoff asked in a bored voice, "You came in here for a reason?"

"As I said, Private Strov has disappeared. He's the one I sent to investigate the Burning Blade. I've talked to his brother—Manuel says they arranged everything in the Demonsbane. Strov sat in a corner, Manuel talked to the person they thought was with the Burning Blade, and Strov followed him. That was the night before last, and I haven't heard a thing since."

"And why is this my concern?" Kristoff still sounded bored.

"Because, you gibbering imbecile, he was investigating this Burning Blade. The same Burning Blade that attacked me and my people in Northwatch. I think it's suspicious, don't you?"