Chuckling bitterly, Aegwynn said, "And you still think I was a great wizard? I let my arrogance interfere with my judgment. I assumed the Tirisfalen to be a group of hidebound old fools, rather than what they truly were: experienced mages who knew better than me. After I ‘defeated' Sargeras, I became more arrogant, if that's even possible. I ignored every summons the council sent me, disregarded their procedures, disobeyed their orders. After all, I beat Sargeras, and he was a god, so what did they know?" She snarled. "I was such an idiot."

"Don't be ridiculous." Jaina couldn't believe this. Bad enough that the greatest wizard of her time, the woman she'd idolized all her life, turned out to be such an unpleasant person, but now she was just being idiotic. "It was Sargeras. Any mage would have made the same mistake you did. As you said, he was a god. He knew he would have to trick you because of your power, and he knew how to manipulate you. What you did was perfectly natural."

Aegwynn stared at one of the corners of the ramshackle hut that she apparently called home. "I did far far more than that. There was also Medivh."

Now Jaina was even more confused. "I knew Medivh, Magna. He was—"

Whirling to look at Jaina, Aegwynn snapped, "I'm not talking about what my son was. I'm talking about how he was."

"What do you mean?" Jaina asked, genuinely confused. "Medivh was fathered by Nielas Aran, and—"

" ‘Fathered'?" Aegwynn let out a noise that sounded like a rock shattering. "That's far too generous a term for it."

Sixty—nine years ago…

The summons had been insistent this time, which was the only reason why Aegwynn responded to it. The Guardians of Tirisfal had changed over the years. The three elves were the same, but the humans and the gnome had all died and been replaced, and then their replacements died and themselves had successors. In many ways, though, they had not changed at all. Rather than deal with them in any way, or deal with an apprentice, Aegwynn had used her magicks to extend her life so she could continue to do her duty as Guardian.

She had almost fallen to her death while standing on a parapet in Lordaeron, casting a seeker spell for one of Sargeras's former thralls, rumored to be out and about in the city. In the midst of the incantation, the council had decided to hit her with a summons so powerful that she almost lost her balance. It was the third summons in as many days, and the first that had interfered with her ability to function.

Realizing that she would not hear the end of it until she answered, she teleported to the Tirisfal Glade. She stood on top of the very rock Falric—who had also long since died, as had her other three fellow apprentices, all perishing while fighting demons—had transmuted into fool's gold all those centuries ago, time having exposed and tarnished it so it was a dull brown instead of the bright golden color it was eight hundred years past.

"What is it that's so important that you interrupt my work?"

"It has been eight centuries, Aegwynn," one of the new humans said. Aegwynn had never bothered to learn his name. "It is past time you relinquished your duties."

Drawing herself up to her full height—which made her taller than any of the men surrounding her in this glade—she said, "I am properly addressed as ‘Magna. That's one of those ridiculous rules you insist on foisting upon the magical world." The word was a dwarven one meaning "protector," and had been the honorific for every Guardian since the first. Aegwynn didn't care much for titles, but the council's insistence on the rules and regulations, and their disapproval of her flaunting them, made her sensitive to their own violations.

Relfthra threw it back in her face. "Ah, so now you're a stickler for rules, eh?"

The human gave Relfthra a look, and then said, "The point, Magna, is that you know as well as any of us the risks of what you are doing. The longer you extend your age, the greater the risk that it will be undone. The de—aging magicks are not precise, nor are they stable. In mid—conflict, in mid—casting, you could find yourself suddenly brought to your natural age. If that happens without a successor—"

Aegwynn held up a hand. The last thing she needed from these fools was a lecture on the ways of magic. She was a stronger magician than any of them. Had they faced down Sargeras himself? "Very well. I will find a successor and transfer the Guardian power to that person."

Gritting his teeth, the human said, "We will choose your successor, just as we chose Scavell's—and that of every Guardian before him."

"No. I shall make the choice. I believe I know better than anyone what is involved in being a Guardian—certainly more than you who stand around this glade and make pronouncements while the rest of us do the actual work."

"Magna—" the human started, but Aegwynn wished to hear no more.

"I have heard your advice, and for once it is worth heeding." She smiled. "I suppose it was bound to happen eventually. Even a village idiot may stumble upon a valuable philosophy once in a while. When my successor is chosen, you will be informed. That is all."

Without waiting to be dismissed, she teleported back to the parapet. While the council's words were in fact true, she was in the midst of doing her duty. She once again cast the seeker spell to determine if the demon was loose in Lordaeron, as rumored.

Once that was taken care of—there was no demon, only some teenagers indulging in magicks they didn't understand; had they continued, that demon would have been summoned, but Aegwynn was able to forestall their adolescent efforts—she traveled to Stormwind, specifically to the home of Nielas Aran.

Aran had been an admirer of hers for many years. Aegwynn barely paid any attention to him, except insofar as he was more talented than most of the mages who were part of the Tirisfalen. He was blissfully free of the prejudices of the council, and had done well by his craft, serving also as the court magician for King Landan Wrynn. Were she several centuries younger, she might have admired his steel blue eyes and his broad shoulders and his easy laugh.

However, she wasn't several centuries younger, and so had neither interest in him nor desire to even acknowledge his interest in her. She'd had plenty of dalliances in her younger days, starting with Jonas, but she'd long since lost patience with them. Eight hundred years of life had exposed romance to be a mass of fallacy and artifice, and she had neither the time nor the inclination for it.

Still and all, she managed to dredge up the flirtatiousness that she had first used on Jonas as a teenager, and started speaking to Aran. She suddenly became fascinated in his hobbies and his interest in dwarven music.

All of it served one purpose, which was for him to share his bed with her.

The next morning, she knew that she had been impregnated by his seed. She had been mildly disheartened to realize that the embryo within her would grow to be a male child. She had been hoping for a daughter, as yet another poke in the eye to the Guardians of Tirisfal. But even so, this boy would serve the purpose for which he had been conceived.

Taking her leave of a rather disappointed Aran—who truly had expected little else, but had been hoping that Aegwynn could at least have been polite about it—she departed Stormwind. For nine months, she performed her tasks as Guardian as much as she could, and eventually bore Medivh. Only then did she return, handing the infant to Aran and declaring him to be her heir.

"I can see by the look on your face that you're horrified." Aegwynn said the words to Jaina with a vicious smile.

"I am." Jaina spoke true. She had fought alongside Medivh—it was he who had encouraged Jaina to ally herself with Thrall and the orcs against the Burning Legion—but she'd had no idea that the prophet's origins were so tawdry. Indeed, she knew very little about him, save that he had returned from the dead and was trying to atone for his sins by doing everything he could to stop the Burning Legion.