Now, though, her power was being ripped from her by Medivh, and it felt like being struck blind, deaf, and dumb. Her entire body felt deadened—it was less like falling asleep and more like falling into a coma.

But she remained awake and aware of all that was happening. And she realized that if she stayed here, Medivh—or, rather, Sargeras—would keep her here. She would reside in the keep's dungeon, no doubt, able to see and hear all that went on, be made aware of every foul deed that her son performed in Sargeras's name.

She also realized something else—she was still young. Which meant that Medivh had not taken the de—aging magic from her.

That was her salvation, she realized. She gathered up the remaining tatters of her concentration and unleashed the magic of the de—aging spells, grabbing it, harnessing it, and re—forming it into a teleport spell that would take her away from here.

Moments later, her hair having gone white, her skin having wrinkled, her bones having grown weaker, she found herself on Kalimdor, in a grassy region in the mountains of the continent's eastern coast.

Proudmoore's voice was quiet when she said, "That must have been terrible for you."

"It was." Aegwynn shuddered. In fact, it was worse than that, but she had simply hit the high points for Proudmoore's benefit. She had actually tried to reason with Medivh, and tried to get an explanation from him as to why he did what he did—as if Sargeras needed a reason. But she saw no need to burden Proudmoore with that much—the point of the story was to show the depths of her own stupidity. She continued: "When I came here, I was able to use what little magic I had left to determine that there was no one around. I built my hut, planted my garden, dug my well. The wards didn't go up until Thrall and his people settled nearby."

"I'm not surprised." There was an odd tone to Proudmoore's voice when she said that—as if she knew something Aegwynn didn't.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Before Proudmoore could answer, Aegwynn heard something. Proudmoore heard it too, as they both turned to face south. It sounded familiar, but it was a noise Aegwynn hadn't heard in years.

Moments later, her suspicion was confirmed: the noise was made by the displacement of air by a massive dirigible, which was now coming around one of the Bladescar peaks. It stopped right in front of the wards and hovered. Aegwynn assumed a mage—or at the very least, a sensitive—was on board.

A rope ladder fell from the undercarriage, and a figure in plate armor started to climb down. As the figure came closer, Aegwynn recognized the insignia on the armor as that of a colonel.

To her shock, the figure was a human female. She turned and gave Proudmoore a questioning glance.

The girl smiled. "If a woman can be a Guardian of Tirisfal, why can't a woman be a colonel?"

Aegwynn had no choice but to concede the point.

"Milady," the woman said as she came down off the bottom rung of the rope, "I'm afraid I bring bad news." She then looked askance at Aegwynn.

"Colonel Lorena, this is Magna Aegwynn. You may speak as freely to her as you would to me."

The colonel nodded and started to speak. Apparently the word of Jaina Proudmoore was enough for this colonel. Aegwynn grudgingly admitted to being impressed. A woman didn't rise to such a position without a great deal of hard work—she suspected that Lorena was twice as good as any male colonel, simply because she would have to be to succeed. If someone that talented trusted Proudmoore so implicitly, then Proudmoore may have been a more impressive specimen than Aegwynn had been willing to credit.

Perhaps there was something to the girl's hero worship after all.

Lorena said, "Ma'am, it is my firm belief that Chamberlain Kristoff is a member of the Burning Blade—that he has conspired to increase our forces at Northwatch and provoke the orcs into a conflict."

Proudmoore's face fell. "Kristoff? I don't believe that."

But the colonel spent the next several minutes explaining what had happened in Proudmoore's absence from Theramore.

When she was done, Aegwynn asked, "When did this Burning Blade start?"

"We're not sure," Proudmoore said. "We think it's related to a former orc clan. Why?"

"Because Zmodlor started a cult called the Burning Blade. In fact, the sword he was going to use to sacrifice the children he'd imprisoned was covered in oil and was to be set alight when the sacrifice commenced. Since Zmodlor is around, it's possible he was involved with those orcs as well."

Lorena spoke up before Proudmoore could respond to that. "Milady, why are you behind these wards? I brought Booraven with us to track you down, and she said there were wards up so we couldn't pass. But—why haven't you come out from behind them?"

"I'm afraid I can't. When I arrived here, I was able to penetrate the wards that had been put up, but they've been replaced with demonic wards from the very same Zmodlor that Magna Aegwynn was just discussing. I'm afraid I do not have the knowledge to bypass them."

"A pity," Aegwynn said. "If these were still my wards, I would let you through in an instant."

Snorting, Proudmoore said, "Don't be ridiculous—they were never your wards. They were Medivh's."

Aegwynn stared at Proudmoore in open—mouthed shock. "How did you—"

"When I first arrived here, I recognized the magic used for the wards as belonging to one of the Tirisfalen. But after I penetrated them, I realized I knew which of the Tirisfalen it was, because I'd encountered it before. As I tried to tell you earlier, I knew Medivh—it was he that brought human and orc to this land, and he that convinced us to ally against the Burning Legion. I know his magic quite well."

Lorena spoke before Aegwynn could respond. "Milady, with respect, time grows short. We must get you out of there. There has to be a way."

Proudmoore looked at Aegwynn. "There is. Teach me that spell of Meitre's." Pointing at the colonel, she added, "We now have the conduit."

"Very well," Aegwynn said, "if it means you'll leave me in peace."

"I'm afraid that's not possible."

Aegwynn blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"You're coming with us."

Snorting, Aegwynn said, "Am I?"

"Yes. You are the magna, the Guardian who is all that stands between us and the demonic hordes. It is your responsibility to come with us."

"On what are you basing this ridiculous notion?"

"You said that Zmodlor built these wards. That means he is active—for all we know, he is responsible for the Burning Blade that is even now cutting through the alliance Thrall and I built at your son's behest. But you thought you defeated him eight centuries ago—obviously you didn't finish the job, and it is your responsibility—"

"What do you know of responsibility?" Aegwynn cried. "For eight—"

"Yes, I know what you did, Magna, you've told me quite a bit about your failures, your deceits, your lies, your arrogance—but what you've also reminded me of is that you never once shirked your responsibility as Guardian. Everything you did—from facing Zmodlor to defying the council to siring Medivh—was done because you believed in what you did. Regardless of your mistakes, of your defeats, you never once shirked that responsibility. Until now." Proudmoore shook her head. "You asked me what I know of responsibility, and right now I'd say more than you, because you never had to be responsible to anyone save yourself. I have led people into battle, and I have ruled them when the battle was over—and right now, the people who have trusted me need me, and it may well be because of a demon you were supposed to have killed. I will not see everything we have built here be brought down by your self—pity, Magna."

"I believe I've earned the right to determine my own destiny."