c19

One of the worst things about this new era, in Tyrande's opinion, were the meetings.

After the Sundering, she and Malfurion had restructured night elven society so that leadership was split between the High Priestess of Elune, being herself, and the Archdruid, being Malfurion. That was the theory.

In practice, Malfurion had spent the past ten thousand years in the Emerald Dream, working to heal the world in the wake of the Burning Legion's invasion. This meant that a proxy had to take up his duties in the waking world.

During the Long Vigil, this didn't mean much. There was honestly little to do. The night elves tended to the forests and kept watch for threats, but they had no cities and few permanent settlements.

But things were different now. With the arrival of the Horde on Kalimdor and the exposure of the night elves to the wider world, they had to adapt. Tyrande found more and more of her time consumed by politics, and Malfurion's absence was keenly felt.

Especially because she really did not like his replacement.

Fandral Staghelm was an oddity in both appearance and disposition. The average height of a night elf male was around 7'2''. Staghelm loomed at a towering 8'3''. Where most druids were calm, rational and would rather talk than fight if the option was available, Staghelm was angry, aggressive and believed that the night elves should take a more hostile stance against both the Horde and the Alliance.

He had been a good man once, but the loss of his son during the first War of Shifting Sands had broken something in him. Tyrande could not bring herself to trust him and she certainly could not trust his intentions. If not kept in check, he would start a war with everyone, a war that the night elves could not hope to win.

"Ysondre and Nythendra have clearly been corrupted by that human warlock!" Staghelm bellowed, slamming his meaty fists on her desk. "Now they rampage through the Emerald Dream and have stolen the Tears of Elune from Val'sharah! They have to be stopped at once!"

Tyrande took a deep breath through her nose, keeping a tight rein on her anger. Staghelm had barged into the temple uninvited and unannounced, ranting about what Harry and Luna's… Battle Harem… was doing and now he was trying to use his size to intimidate her. As much as she wanted to yell at the hotheaded idiot, she knew it would accomplish nothing save to ruin the rest of the night. More than it was already at any rate.

"And they have an orc among their number now, an orc!" Staghelm continued shouting. "What more proof do you need that they are trouble?!"

"Luna is a priestess high in Elune's favor!" She cut him off before he could continue. "As long as she is with them, then I will trust that they have good reason for their actions."

Although she would like to hear why Luna had decided to take the Tears of Elune from the temple in Val'sharah. Contact with their kin on the Broken Isles was sporadic, but she had a feeling that Luna had not exactly asked for permission.

"You put too much faith in your goddess, Tyrande!" Staghelm snarled.

She was momentarily stunned, unable to believe what she was hearing, but rage was quick to follow. The High Priestess surged to her feet, almost knocking over her chair in her fury, and glared up at him.

"Elune has never steered us wrong!" Tyrande snapped. "I will speak to Luna about what she did in my own time. You will do nothing. Now get out of my temple!"

"Your weakness will be the end of us." Staghelm just had to get the last word in as he stomped out.

Tyrande collapsed back into her chair and massaged her temples. She didn't have a headache, but it felt like she should. There were already so many problems that had to be dealt with and she absolutely did not need Staghelm creating more.

Inanely, her thoughts wandered towards Illidan. Progress in Outland had been steady and she had recently been able to send the letter that Harry had suggested she write to her… she didn't even know what to call Illidan, honestly. Either way, he probably didn't have to deal with this kind of nonsense.

XXXXX

"You have been staring at that letter for ten minutes."

There was a hiss in Vashj's tone that had nothing to do with her race. He had very briefly met Azshara's former handmaiden during the War of the Ancients ten thousand years ago and knew her to be an intensely jealous creature.

He also knew that she absolutely loathed Tyrande.

"Tyrande makes an interesting proposition, and an unexpected one." Illidan justified.

The night elf turned demon hadn't honestly expected the woman he loved to reach out to him like this. It made his heart soar no matter how much he told himself that it was just a diplomatic probe to see what his stance on the Burning Legion was.

There was not the slightest hint of anything romantic or even particularly friendly in it, just a perfectly neutral and very tentative outreach. The kind that you would offer to someone who you didn't trust and expected to have to fight even if you had a common foe.

It smelled like her, though, and if Vashj was not here Illidan would be sorely tempted to bury his nose in the paper. Undignified perhaps, but it was not as if anyone would be seeing him do it.

"It is a trap!" Vashj hissed with both her mouth and serpentine hair. Her tail quivered with agitation and her six clawed hands clenched.

"Treachery like that is not Tyrande's way." Illidan refuted. He knew her better than anyone save Malfurion and Elune herself and did not believe for a moment that Tyrande would use such an underhanded trick to set up an ambush.

"How do you even know the letter is from her?" Vashj pretended to be reasonable.

"It is written in her handwriting and it smells like her."

"And you recognize her handwriting after ten thousand years?"

"Yes."

He would never forget anything about Tyrande.

"She will never love you back, you know." Vashj said cuttingly.

But that was a pain that Illidan had lived with for ten thousand years. And just because Tyrande wouldn't love him the way he wished for, it didn't mean that he would ever stop loving her. "She is only asking if we are with the Burning Legion or against them."

The doubt stung. He had always been against the Legion, even when working with them. Still, he understood.

"You want to ally with the Alliance and the Horde? Even as they invade our territory?" Vashj was getting more snappish.

"No… but if we could agree that the Legion is the bigger threat then that would make our planned attack on Argus much more likely to succeed." Illidan said contemplatively.

The Horde and Alliance had thus far not pushed too deeply into Outland, but they were making progress. They were winning against the Burning Legion forces in the Hellfire Peninsula and would undoubtedly eventually destroy the Fel Horde. After that, they would start to impugn on his own territories.

"And you think they will agree to that after seeing our methods?" Vashj asked mockingly. "You think Tyrande will be pleased to learn about what happened to Maiev Shadowsong and her Wardens?"

Yes, that was admittedly going to be a problem. The Illidari had enslaved many tribes of the Broken and other peoples for use as labor and were not being terribly kind to them. They were certainly getting results – the recent invasion and destruction of Nathreza, the nathrezim homeworld, was proof of that – but Illidan knew from experience that most people were too soft to do what was necessary. Even Tyrande never understood.

As for Maiev… yes, he was keeping her imprisoned here in the Black Temple and had tortured her a bit. A lot, he had tortured her a lot. Ten thousand years was a long time to be accruing resentment for one's jailer and the vicious bitch had been quite a thorn in his side. There was no love lost between her and Tyrande, but she would still not be happy about it.

As much as Illidan wanted to please Tyrande, his work was important. With the information retrieved from Nathreza, they would be able to find the means to invade Argus itself and cripple the Burning Legion forever. And to do that, they needed the power base that Outland represented.

Nobody ever trusted him to know what he was doing and nobody else had the determination to do whatever had to be done. They would understand once the Legion was defeated. Even if they reviled him for his methods, everyone would know that it had been he who had defeated the Burning Legion.

"We will make a truce with the forces of Azeroth if they wish it, but we will not compromise our methods." Illidan finally decided.

XXXXX

The Pillars of Creation must have been mentioned at some point after he stopped paying attention to the expanding lore of the Warcraft franchise, because he had never heard of them.

There were five of them. Luna now had the Tears of Elune embedded in her staff, Azshara had destroyed the Tidestone of Golganneth ten thousand years ago, the Hammer of Khaz'goroth was being guarded by the Highmountain Tauren, the Aegis of Aggramar had disappeared to places unknown and the Eye of Aman'thul should still be in Suramar, which had been sealed off ten thousand years ago.

In short, two of the remaining four were beyond reach at the moment, taking the third would cause a major diplomatic incident and the last one was destroyed.

Sometimes, the world was just too cruel.

"You already have the Heart of Azeroth embedded in your staff." Colette pointed out unsympathetically. "What more could you want?"

"He's always been greedy like that when it comes to interesting magical doodads." Luna revealed. "I think he gets it from his animagus form."

"We don't have time to be trawling all over the Broken Isles in search of the Pillars of Creation anyway." Arko shook her head. "It feels like we've had it a bit too easy purging the Nightmare corruption until now."

"Maybe our actions haven't been noticed yet?" Jessir offered, but without any conviction in her voice.

"No." Harry and Garona said at the same time. Raising an amused eyebrow, he gestured for the half-orc to go ahead.

"You should always assume that your enemy knows about you and prepare accordingly."

Harry wondered if that was a recent addition to Garona's life philosophy or if her hatred of the Shadow Council was simply so great that she was willing to take dangerous risks for a chance at murdering them. Her behavior around Cho'Gall certainly hadn't been this cautious.

"What she said." He nodded. "Besides, this plan to corrupt the Emerald Dream has the handprints of a mortal agent all over it. It's too subtle and too careful for something the Old Gods had a direct hand in. If my suspicions are correct, this Nightmare Lord that Ursoc mentioned is going to start throwing problems our way soon."

"I'm worried about Cenarius." Jessir admitted. "He shouldn't have gone out on his own."

"No, he should not have." Harry nodded in agreement, very pleased by the huntress' lack of blind faith. "He might not even be able to fight this threat."

"Then let's go! My nephew is in danger!" Luna cheered, turning the Nimbus Cloud towards Un'Goro Crater.

"Please don't refer to Cenarius as your nephew." Arko requested in a pained tone.

"Ah, but isn't that what he is?" Colette teased. "If Elune is Luna's big sister, then she is his aunt."

"And just imagine the look on his face." Harry poured oil on the fire. If the demigod had gotten himself into some kind of pinch and they saved him, then he'd be hard pressed to reject Luna's assertions without coming off as incredibly rude.

A tiny little smirk pulled at Garona's lips. It was only for a couple of seconds, but it was a clear enough indication that she found the thought amusing as well. This pleased Harry, because it meant that she was relaxing. The half-orc was slow to trust for perfectly understandable reasons, but even the most suspicious, wary and distrustful of people couldn't keep their guard up forever when no threat presented itself.

Harry made sure to expose the Battle Harem's backs to her frequently. An assassin would hate having anyone in her blind spot and conversely, would take not having eyes on her as an implicit gesture of trust. Even if she did not consciously acknowledge it, every opening she did not exploit would dull her killer instinct where they were concerned.

A few minutes later they were back in the Emerald Dream and flying towards their next destination.

"I will not claim to be an expert on geography in the Emerald Dream, but are we not flying westwards?" Colette asked.

"Indeed we are." Harry confirmed.

There were a few moments of silence as everyone absorbed this information, then Jessir spoke up. "Didn't we agree we were going to go from the oldest World Tree to the youngest? Why are we going to Teldrassil?"

"It was a cunning ruse." Harry smirked. "There is a chance that our enemy can piggyback on the senses of any druid, including Cenarius, so we told them we'd do one thing and then we do another."

"Oh, is that why you convinced Merithra to not come with us?" Arko realized.

"Yeah, it's too bad, but green dragons are even more susceptible to the Nightmare than druids." Luna sighed sadly.

"And you are suspicious of Teldrassil." Colette said knowingly.

"Damn right I'm suspicious of Teldrassil." Harry agreed. "That big tree is practically a collection of red flags."

"Red flags?" Arko echoed in confusion.

"Danger signs." He explained. "Back on our world, armies would wave a red flag to signal that it was dangerous to approach. Eventually it became a metaphor for any kind of danger."

"And you are seeing 'red flags' around Teldrassil." Jessir nodded her understanding.

"Sooo many red flags. Fandral Staghelm wanted to grow it to regain the night elves' immortality. Malfurion Stormrage denied him, only to mysteriously vanish, allowing Staghelm to become the new Archdruid and go ahead with his plan. The Dragon Aspects refused to bless it, most likely leaving it more vulnerable than the other World Trees. And lastly, the majority of your population has migrated to it, leaving it a very juicy target for the enemy."

"It made sense at the time." Arko frowned. "We could not risk leaving our people dispersed across northern Kalimdor with the Horde on our doorstep and leftover demons crawling everywhere. Teldrassil seemed like an ideal location."

"Its location certainly does make it easily defensible." Colette admitted. "But it also cuts you off from the mainland and makes it difficult to reinforce your soldiers."

"You're thinking of how Stormwind and Lordaeron waged war against the orcs." Harry shook his head. "Night elves don't have the numbers or the artillery – magical or mundane – to fight like that. They excel at hit-and-run, skirmishing, assassination and ambush tactics rather than direct confrontation. Quite frankly, they can't afford to take the kind of casualties that the shorter-lived races can absorb. I can see why Teldrassil made for such a tempting place to settle, which is what makes me so suspicious of it. It's too convenient, it's the kind of convenient I would offer if I was setting up a trap."

"What kind of opposition are we expecting when we reach Teldrassil?" Garona spoke up.

"Unknown." Harry admitted unhappily. "We will do our best to scout around before engaging, of course, but we're still going in effectively blind."

"That is a terrible idea." The half-orc said flatly.

"Nobody ever claimed that adventuring was a safe lifestyle."

XXXXX

Malfurion Stormrage felt despair claw at his heart as the corrupted green dragon Eranikus delivered the sleeping adventurers before Xavius, the Nightmare Lord.

He had watched their progress as much as he had been able in his imprisonment and had been hopeful that they would succeed. They had certainly been doing a fine job of eradicating the Nightmare wherever they went. But they had been ambushed at Teldrassil by Ysera's corrupted consort and fallen prey to his power, forced asleep by the powerful dragon.

Xavius bound them in shadowy vines and turned to Malfurion.

"This is who you pinned your hopes on?" The first of the satyrs said in the same gloating tone he had been using for the past few years while holding him prisoner and torturing him. "A second-rate sorcerer and his sluts?"

"Oi, who are you calling a second-rate sorcerer, you overgrown weed?" The apparently awake adventurer demanded.

Their helmets had been removed, so Malfurion was able to see the man's shadowy hair and burning eyes. At first glance he might be mistaken for a demon, but the Archdruid could sense no corruption of any kind in him.

Xavius took offense to being called a weed, no doubt because it was a reminder of the fact that Malfurion had turned him into a tree ten thousand years ago. He remained fused to one even now, though it had changed from a proper tree into a gnarled Nightmare abomination.

"Silence, scum!" The Nightmare Lord barked. "You have made quite a nuisance of yourself and ruined several plans millennia in the making. For this, you will suffer."

"I'm already suffering the sight of your ugly face, so I don't see how it can get much worse." The sorcerer snorted, clearly not intimidated.

Malfurion had to admire his bravado, even if it was misplaced. Having been the subject of Xavius' attentions for several years himself, he could confirm that it could indeed get much worse.

"You dare?!" The easily angered former Highborne roared.

"What's with the yelling?" The priestess shining with the light of Elune complained as she awoke. "Use your indoor voice."

The rest of the women woke up one by women, expressing confusion at their situation. Eranikus had knocked them unconscious so quickly and subtly that they hadn't had any time to react.

"Hey there, girls." The sorcerer, Harry if Malfurion had his name right, spoke in a droll tone. "You're probably wondering how we got into this situation."

"You got into this situation because you thought you could best me, Xavius!" Xavius sneered.

"The first satyr?" The night elf female with the big sword, Arko, asked. There was something in her tone that made Malfurion thing she would like nothing better than to sharpen it on Xavius' ribs. Normally the Archdruid would not approve of such aggression among his people, but in this case it was more than warranted.

"The career minion who keeps finding a dirtier pair of boots to lick?" Harry fake-gasped. "First it was Azshara, then it was Sargeras and now it's the Old Gods. Your soul is cheaper than a goblin prostitute."

Was he trying to make Xavius angry? Because if so, it was working.

"RAAAARGH!" The Nightmare Lord roared, his fury causing the Emerald Dream to shudder. "Just for that, I will torture you for the next ten thousand years!"

"Hey, is that Malfurion Stormrage?" The priestess of Elune, Luna, asked, completely ignoring Xavius. "Hiii! Tyrande misses you."

Completely baffled, Malfurion replied automatically while his mind was busy wondering why these two were so utterly unworried by their situation. The rest of their party at least looked a little concerned. "I miss her as well."

"Could we perhaps save the socializing until after we escape this predicament?" The shadow user, Colette if Malfurion's attempts to peer through the Dream were correct, suggested tersely.

"You are not getting out of it!" Xavius interjected furiously. "I will take the Tears of Elune that you have so graciously brought to me. I will use them to corrupt Ysera and through her the rest of the Emerald dream, and you will do nothing but watch as all you hold dear falls into Nightmare!"

"BORING!" Harry bellowed at back at him. "No wonder you didn't have the balls to bend Azshara over a table and fuck her until she couldn't walk. You're too dull to come up with an original idea of your own, a complete waste of meat, air and magical talent. Apologize for your existence!"

"Are you still insisting on that theory that Azshara called the Burning Legion to Azeroth because she was sexually frustrated?!" Arko demanded. Either she was genuinely exasperated or going along with whatever plan the wizard had. Malfurion couldn't tell which it was.

"It's the truth!" Harry insisted and turned to him. "Malfurion, you met the woman. Think about it and tell me that she wouldn't have been a lot more mellow if she was getting fucked on the regular."

Malfurion would prefer to be thinking of ways to escape their bonds and defeat Xavius, but he decided to play along in the hopes that there was some kind of method to this madness.

"It would have been worth finding out." Which was the truth. If all it took to prevent the Burning Legion coming to Azeroth was to find Azshara a mate, he would have tried to convince Illidan to pursue her. She had thought him handsome.

Xavius had been silent for this long not out of courtesy, but because he was so incandescently furious that the power of speech had deserted him. Provoked beyond all reason, the former high councilor to Queen Azshara sent a teeming mass of darkness at the captive sorcerer.

Except that Harry was apparently less of a captive than he seemed to be.

"I will not be bound!" He declared and it was more than just a shout of defiance. It was a divine edict and fire burst from him, burning away the tendrils of Nightmare that tried to hold him. His bladestaff was suddenly in his hands and he thrust it into the ground, sending another blast of flame to clear away the bonds holding his companions. The Emerald Dream itself was warping around him, being bent to his will. "I am the fire that burns away the shackles. By my choosing I am the Guardian of Azeroth, by my will I protect her, in her name and in her voice I reject you!"

Even as he fell to the ground after his bonds were burned away, Malfurion knew that something momentous had just happened. The Emerald Dream was unsettled in ways he had never felt before. This small part of it, which had previously been tainted by the Nightmare, was twisting beneath the sorcerer's will. Fires were beginning to burn, but not the fire of the Elemental Plane. They did not burn away wood, but chains.

"What have you done?!" Xavius demanded furiously, calling upon the dark powers he commanded. Monsters of Nightmare poured in from every shadow only to be struck down by blades and arrows. Corrupting darkness surged forth in an attempt to taint souls, only to burn away in the moonlight radiance shining from Luna.

"I am a god of freedom, slave." Harry retorted snidely, moving his staff in large circles and whipping up a great firestorm that licked at the Nightmare tree Xavius was bound to. "I am burning away the chains you put on yourself when you swore your soul to those Void abominations, whether you want me to or not. And as Speaker for Azeroth the Titan, whom makes this world her cradle, I declare that you are no longer welcome upon it."

Something in Malfurion's soul trembled with horror at the proclamation. To be sundered from nature so utterly… he could think of no worse punishment.

But this was no time to be feeling pity for the fate Xavius had brought upon himself. The former night elf still had some residual power left even though it was visibly draining away, and he would not just stand here and gawk while his saviours did all the fighting. Years of imprisonment and torture had weakened him, along with whatever Fandral Staghelm had been doing to his body, but the Emerald Dream still answered his call readily. Nature surged forward to restrain the Nightmare monsters and make them easier to cut down.

The brief, hectic battle ended with the immobile Xavius impaled upon Arko's moonlight greatsword, which Malfurion thought she took a bit too much pleasure in.

"I thank you for my freedom, heroes, but there is much yet to do." He urgently spoke. "Though Xavius may have been defeated here in the Emerald Dream, he still has a physical tree off the coast of Azshara in Azeroth proper and may yet live. And now that you have forced the fight against the Nightmare into the open, N'zoth will abandon subtlety and attack the Emerald Dream with more force."

"I know and I didn't want to do things this way, but that fucking dragon really got one over on us." Harry cursed.

Ah, so it hadn't been a ploy. Eranikus really had caught them, and Harry was apparently quite annoyed about it.

"We need to get to Malfurion's body. Tyrande would be upset if something happened to it." Luna spoke next and turned to him. "It is that Fandral Staghelm fellow that has it, right?"

"Yes." Malfurion grimaced at the thought of his old friend and second. "Xavius turned him with visions of his fallen son. He believes that Valstann has returned to him and is likely to be beyond reason."

Fandral had always loved his son deeply. Losing him once had broken him. Losing him again would destroy him.

"And I may have severed the tie between that idiot and the Old Gods, but nothing stops him from going right back to them." Harry scowled. "I also severed any other bonds holding him. We'll have to split up and move fast to get ahead of this mess. Garona and I will go to Darnassus and apprise Tyrande of the situation. The rest of you should find Cenarius and make sure he hasn't been corrupted. If I was an Old God backed into a corner, that's who I'd target."

That sounded all too plausible to Malfurion's mind and he feared for his mentor. Over the past few years, his captor had ranted enough that he had pieced together some information about N'Zoth. The Old God was the subtlest of the four, always looking to strike bargains with which he could entangle mortals into his service. That was how it had gotten its chains around Xavius – after being turned into a tree, the former night elf had been desperate enough to cast aside his loyalty to Sargeras in exchange for some measure of freedom.

But that did not mean that N'Zoth was incapable of the brute force approach. With its plots for the Emerald Dream in ruins, it might very well lash out.

"Then let's go save my nephew!" Luna said enthusiastically.

Malfurion blinked. Nephew?

XXXXX

"I hate hostage situations." Harry swore with feeling.

Despite rushing towards Darnassus with all haste, Fandral Staghelm had received word that the jig was up before they got there, either through Xavius or N'Zoth itself. Now they had the treacherous Archdruid pinned in the 'basement' of his treehouse, where he had apparently been keeping the body of Malfurion Stormrage for the past few years.

Naturally, he was threatening to kill the comatose Archdruid if they didn't let him and his 'son' leave. That said son was either an astral projection or outright delusion didn't make the situation any less problematic.

"You have faced this kind of situation before?" Tyrande asked intensely. Everything about her had been intense ever since recent events had been summarized for her.

"Oh yeah." He sighed gustily. "Using other people as shields is an unfortunately common tactic among human schemers."

"Then what is the best approach?" The High Priestess demanded.

"There isn't even a good approach, never mind a best one." Harry replied sourly. "Why do you think I hate hostage situations so much?" Seeing her tightening expression, he continued. "Normally, when someone takes a hostage in the heat of the moment like this, I would simply ignore them and keep attacking. That generally convinces people that they misjudged my concern for the hostage and abandon the tactic, but in this case Staghelm knows that we care what happens to your man, so it won't work."

"Should we simply give him what he wants, then? Allow him to leave?" Jaelyne Evensong, Tyrande's strongest subordinate, asked. "We can always hunt him down later."

"That might have been an option if Staghelm wasn't teetering on the edge of complete insanity." Harry shook his head. "We can't trust his grip on reality and it isn't just him we're dealing with. Xavius has no intention of allowing Malfurion to survive this. As it is, I suspect that the only reason he is still alive is because of the vector used to corrupt Staghelm. He wants to protect his 'son' and knows that killing Malfurion would be a death sentence, but that's a very precarious balance. I think we're going to have to risk an assassination attempt."

"Fandral Staghelm is a powerful archdruid, second only to Malfurion himself among the night elves, and he grew that tree himself." Tyrande said sternly. "Evading his attention inside it will be no easy feat."

"I can do it." Garona said spoke up, looking up at Harry. "That is why you brought me with you instead of one of the others, isn't it?"

"I suspected the stealth might be required to handle Staghelm." He admitted. "Although I was hoping that he would be unaware and that you would be able to simply use a paralyzing poison to take him down without a fuss."

"Regardless of the risk, the situation is untenable and we must act." Tyrande said decisively, staring at Garona. "The night elves have rogues and assassins among our number, but none of them have any experience with a task like this and Staghelm will expect them. I would consider it a personal favor if you succeed in this, but will cast no blame on you if you fail."

Oof. Way to pile on the pressure there, Tyrande.

"I will see it done." Garona agreed.

"And I think I'll go search across Azshara's coastline." Harry added. "Malfurion mentioned that Xavius has a physical tree somewhere there. If I can find it then I can at least prevent him from further messing with the situation here."

And it would give him something to do since going back to the Emerald Dream right now might not be the best of ideas. He had somewhat overstepped his authority with the stunt he pulled in there.

Flexing the remnant of his divinity and imposing his own logic onto the Emerald Dream, however temporarily, was more than a little rude. Even with the role of Speaker and Guardian of Azeroth – not that silly title that the Order of Tirisfal had created, but something actually connected to the slumbering titan – that he had chosen to don, he couldn't just do stuff willy-nilly. The Emerald Dream was a creation of a different titan and their magic was far more orderly and rigid than any mortal sorcery, to the point where it acted like a computer program. Harry had effectively used his guest access to shift+delete some malware without concern for what else would get lost in the process.

So yeah, it was for the best that he give it some time to settle down before he mucked about in there again. For all he knew, Ysera might get the wrong idea about his intentions.

XXXXX

The good news was that Cenarius had not been corrupted yet.

The bad news was that he had been captured by a nasty looking tumor-thing that was growing on and within the World Tree in Un'Goro Crater and sealed inside. By the look of it, the demigod was somehow being drained to fuel this thing's explosive growth.

The outsiders seek everything. One pursues, and one enables.

And there was also that. The booming telepathic voice that made ominous statements designed to instill doubt. Luna recognized the strategy, Harry liked to use it himself sometimes when he was bored – find some earnest young people, pretend to be all-knowing, make vague declarations that had just enough truth mixed in to be plausible in the worst possible way. He'd used it to train a few of his apprentices back in the day.

"Ignore it, don't let it distract you." She ordered, doing her utmost to protect everyone while also sneaking in a few offensive spells to burn out the creepy eyestalks, shambling Nightmare horrors or blobs of corruption.

She was really missing Harry's presence. Jessir and Arko could only really engage one enemy at a time, Colette's shadow magic was of limited utility, forcing her to rely on her sword's ability to drain the corruption and Malfurion had to focus on supporting them instead of using his own much diminished druidic powers against the abomination directly. It had quickly become clear that the Nightmare tumor fed on the life energies channeled by druids.

The ambassador of time pulls your strings.

Well, yes. Obviously. But so what? Chromie was a sweetheart.

He is closer than ever to his dreams.

Eh? Was it talking about Harry again?

Luna took her own advice and ignored the voices, focusing instead on creating a zone of safety with the Tears of Elune. This thing could corrupt the very ground they were standing on and that made it very difficult for the others to fight. It was less powerful than C'thun's avatar, but there were also far less of them to fight it and she was finding her abilities to fend of all the attacks coming at them to be strained.

Release your grip on hope.

Why in the world would she do that? Being hopeless sucked.

But it seemed that the mental pressure had gotten through to Colette, because Luna saw her sword dip and her stance lose its defiance.

"None of that!" She said sharply, bonking the former death knight over the helmet with her staff. "Gird those loins and get back to fighting. Your life isn't only yours anymore."

Playing the drill sergeant really wasn't her thing, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.

"My apologies." Colette replied, shaken but with some measure of her usual innuendo-laden tone. "I will make up for my momentary weakness to you later."

He has abandoned you to death.

It was definitely talking about Harry, and misrepresenting him terribly. If Harry ever went full evil, he would be respectful enough to kill them face to face.

"We have to get Cenarius out of there, or this will never end!" Malfurion shouted over the din of combat.

"Right." Luna nodded, knowing that she had to stop playing defense. "Everyone, get ready!"

You fight a futile battle.

"Do it and shut this thing up already!" Arko snarled, hewing viciously through a Nightmare spawn. Ah, she was still mad over the brainwashing in Ahn'Qiraj.

"Help me out here, Big Sis." Luna murmured, calling upon the familiar divine power and channeling it into the Tears of Elune. This was going to have to be impressive if they wanted to get through it.

A powerful blast of moonlight radiated outwards from her when she slammed the staff against the ground, burning away the corruption and enforcing a vision of a pristine Emerald Dream. The central eye which had for the entire battle been trying to blast mind-flaying beams of Void energy into their heads burst like an infected boil and left the way open into the corrupted World Tree.

Inside was a misshapen mass of pulsating flesh, with vein like structures wrapped around Cenarius.

There was no need to give any instruction and they all ran inside. Arko and Jessir immediately started cutting apart the veins with their blade, while Colette went for the tumor-thing and started cleaving into it. Malfurion did what he could to rejuvenate his teacher and pull him away, and Luna stood at the threshold of the World Tree to keep the way open.

"Hurry, please." Luna requested with a strained voice. The horrors outside were throwing themselves against her brilliant moonlight shield, there was corruption crawling across the ground and the flesh growing on the tree was also trying to overwhelm her. The whole place was shaking every time Colette stabbed the tumor.

"Go kill the heart, I've got this." Jessir shouted to Arko, using her twin shortswords to slice through any tendrils reaching towards Cenarius.

Arko didn't argue and launched herself against the heart, her Holy Moonlight Greatsword tearing through it. Unlike Colette's Voidblade, which was leaving the fleshy mass shriveled and dried out, Arko's sword left wounds burning with silver moonlight. A telepathic roar of pain made all of them wince.

"I have him!" Malfurion announced, helping the much larger demigod move with considerable difficulty. "We must retreat back outside!"

Arko and Colette stabbed the heart one last time and then turned to help the Archdruid with Cenarius. Even Jessir took the opportunity to fire a moonlight-charged arrow into it before stowing her bow.

Luna waited for them to reach her before expending another good chunk of her strength to blast away all the Nightmare spawn blocking their escape.

He will find a new home beneath the tides.

This telepathic message had the distinct feel of a taunt, the last word of a dying enemy that refused to accept defeat gracefully.

"I don't like the sound of that." Jessir commented, fighting firing arrows at the rapidly dwindling tentacles, eyestalks and Nightmare spawn around them.

"It is a little concerning." Luna conceded. "Let's finish up here and find Harry and Garona."

XXXXX

Harry had forged a new Disc for himself a while ago – this time without any Ruinous Powers iconography. The advantages of a supremely maneuverable flying mount that was heavily resistant to all forms of damage were not to be underestimated, he just hadn't had any need to use it thus far.

Malfurion had told him the approximate location of Xavius' tree, because Azshara's coastline was fucking huge and searching all of it would have taken days. Even with a general idea of where to look, an aerial view and a fast mount, it still took the better part of an hour.

Harry had almost begun thinking that Xavius had been able to escape despite being transformed into a tree when he found the asshole in question. Or his body, as the case may be.

The first of the satyrs was sprawled face-first on the ground on an empty stretch of Azshara's stormy coast. If the land wasn't so barren, he might have missed it entirely, since he was looking for a goddamn tree, but it appeared that Xavius had reverted to his true appearance in death.

The body had no wounds on it, as if it had simply dropped dead. That was consistent with what normally happened if someone was killed while spirit-walking in the Emerald Dream. Kind of like learning French from a Dementor.

Which, of course, begged the question… if Xavius had died properly after getting his butt kicked in the Emerald Dream, who had been screwing with Fandral Staghelm by sending him visions of his son?

Harry was still pondering the mystery when the humid air around him suddenly solidified into a dome of water, one that had warding properties. He could immediately sense that there would be no teleporting out of it and trying to fly through it would be like trying to fly through a steel wall.

The spellwork was actually distractingly beautiful. He had never imagined using water in this way as a medium to anchor a temporary ward, never thought it was possible. The level of control required…

The caster revealed herself before he could contemplate or admire it further, slithering through the dome with an effortless, sensuous grace. She had such presence that no introduction was necessary.

"Queen Azshara, what a delight to make your acquaintance." Harry said politely, offering a small, courteous nod.

Internally, his thoughts were racing. He had long since concluded that the first, last and only queen of the Kaldorei Empire was probably still alive and ruling the naga at the bottom of the sea. With Lady Vashj, one of Illidan Stormrage's most well-known subordinates, being a confirmed former handmaiden of hers, it was an easy enough leap of logic to guess that those Highborne swallowed by the sea during the Sundering had become the naga. From there it followed that it had likely been Azshara's doing.

But the eldritch style crest on Azshara's head, with its three extra evil slit eyes, was a clear indication that the transformation had come about due to a deal with one of the Old Gods. Probably N'zoth, which would explain why she knew to be here. Fuck.

The scary part was that Harry could not feel any kind of enslavement binding that every servant of the Old Gods had had so far. That meant that Azshara had somehow negotiated to retain her independence while defeated and drowning, a position of weakness if ever there was one. Double fuck.

"The pleasure is all mine, Lord Archmage." The Queen of the Naga returned the greeting with a small nod of her own and an alluring smile. "You sound almost as if you were expecting me."

Oh dear. Harry knew that tone and inflection. And he knew that smile, too. They all belonged to a woman that was absolutely convinced that the sun shone out of her ass. Adrastia had shades of it, but Azshara's arrogance in this arena far outstripped her.

Even with the mass of tentacles that her lower body had become, the four clawed arms and the generally evil look of her, she still radiated an unreal beauty. Part of that was the enthralling aura about her – vastly more powerful in scope and range than anything he had ever seen a veela produce, if less blatantly sexual in nature – but the rest of it was sheer force of charisma.

"I wasn't expecting you here and now, I will admit." Harry stalled for time. "But I knew that one such as you wouldn't die to something like a little salt water."

Haha yeah, no shit. For some reason he had assumed that all his enemies would just turtle in their lairs and wait for him to come to them, fully prepared and ready to face them on his terms. He didn't even have the excuse of claiming that he was using video game logic where the raid bossess stayed put. No, this was purely because he had made the assumption that all the people who could directly threaten him would show their hands by sending minions first.

"Indeed." Azshara chuckled throatily. "Truth be told, I did not think much of you at first, but once I heard of the things you can do, I decided that I simply must meet you."

How exactly had she heard of him when her kingdom was on the bottom of the sea? Spies or magical scyring? With her evident command over water, could she actually use it as a medium to spy on people?

Harry did not wish to contemplate the possibility that his bathwater had been used to spy on him.

"I am always happy to discuss the magical arts with another accomplished practitioner."

And she was that. He hadn't known if the stories about her were overblown or not, but now that he saw her with his own eyes there was no doubt. Vain, arrogant and narcissistic this woman might be, but she was the real deal. Her magic was as placid as the mirror-smooth surface of a lake on a windless day, not even a hint of strain visible despite controlling the water-ward bubble around them. Harry was by no means sure that he would come on top in a magical duel even in favorable conditions, which these were not.

And he couldn't even call for help. Garona was busy and had refused to give any blood for a bracelet anyway. Luna and the other girls were still in the Emerald Dream and in combat of their own, he could sense. Calling them now could be fatally distracting and what they were doing was important. He didn't know if they would be able to help even if he did call them.

No, he was on his own.

"I am glad to hear it." She said regally. "It would honor me if you would agree to stay as a guest in my palace for a time."

Harry didn't need to see the way she was gripping the monstrously powerful magical scepter in her lower two hands – that had to be the famous Sharas'dal, the Scepter of the Tides – to tell him that it wasn't an 'honor' he could decline, but he figured that she rarely had to resort to force to get what she wanted. Most people would fall over themselves to please her.

"I'm afraid that you've caught me in the middle of several important responsibilities I've taken on, ones that I cannot abrogate." He knew that it was pointless to keep this farce going, but courtesy had never felt more important.

"Not even for me?" What a tone she managed to say that in. It was like a pout, mixed with a death threat, with an undertone designed to inspire guilt and all of it given a royal gravitas. Her presence bore down on him like a physical weight, trying to browbeat him to submission.

"If a man cannot even trust his own word, then who can he trust?" Harry said philosophically, girding the protections around his mind and soul. "I would be more than happy to discuss whatever you wished in a few years."

"Hmmm." Azshara hummed with a small curl at the corner of her lips. It looked like an expression that had gotten plenty of people killed. "That is a commendable attitude, but I am afraid that I must insist."

Insistent people had always made him angry. Right now, he was leaning more towards fear, however. His gut was telling him that this wasn't going to end in his favor.

"I suppose I could spare a time for one dance, Queen Azshara." Harry very deliberately framed the impending battle so euphemistically. He could tell that, despite her magical might, Azshara was a social creature above all else, so it might afford him a slight advantage.

… damn it, she was like a mix of him and Adrastia, with all of their worst traits dialed up to eleven and the knob broken off, wasn't she? No wonder this conversation felt so uncanny.

"Asking me for a dance on our first meeting?" Azshara laid one hand on her cheek with fake bashfulness. "How very bold! I like it! Please, just call me Azshara. May I call you Harry?"

"I've always found the formalities of royal court tedious, so that would be much preferable." Harry brought the Bladestaff of Atiesh out of his hammerspace, quickly jammed on his helmet and prepared for the fight of his life. "Shall we?"

"We shall." She smirked and the battle was on.

Harry opened up with the same spell that he had used to end Kel'Thuzad, the Fire Lance. A beam of white-hot condensed flame speared forward, seeking to burn a hole through Azshara's chest.

The Naga Queen had moved her scepter to defend long before the spell was finished, producing a curved shield of water no larger than a buckler. The Fire Lance splashed against it – ironically – like water against rock. It should have instantly boiled away, but Azhara's mastery over water was such that it probably didn't even heat up.

Harry was already jamming the blade of his staff into the earth and raising a thick slab of rock to defend him before the failure of his first spell could even register. He didn't see, but he sensed the water shield exploding like a claymore mine, sending a spray of water droplets towards him. Instead of splashing harmlessly against the stone slab, the water droplets retained their form and much of their power, absolutely shredding the rock. A few even pinged against his armor and forced him to brace himself.

A caster as powerful as Azshara should have had plenty of time to follow up with something else, but she waited for him to make the next step in their 'dance'. It was barely a split second, a pause unnoticeable to lesser mages, but to Harry it was as clear an indication as to the pace of battle his opponent favored.

Obliging, he used one of his old favorites for dealing with enemy casters that had excellent defensive capabilities, the Blade Grave. With a twist of his staff in the earth, jagged stone spikes shot out from the ground under Azshara, seeking to impale her.

To no avail. The tentacles she had in place of legs coiled around the stone spikes and her 'footing' for lack of a better word, was barely disrupted. A closer look revealed that the stone spikes had slid across her skin instead of penetrating it. She even took a casual lounging pose to mock him as she retaliated with an offensive spell of her own.

A whirlwind of ice blades rushed at him, spinning fast enough that they would likely turn an unarmored opponent into chunky salsa. Harry was armored, however, and damn well at that, so he chose to discard defense in favor of more offense. The blade of his staff was still stabbed into the earth and his magic was still connected to the stone spikes created by the Blade Grave. Another exertion of his will transmuted the inside of those spikes into pyroclastic bombs. Red veins glowed on them as the magma and volcanic gases now making up their internals reached critical pressure. Then they exploded, sending chunks of lava and rock flying everywhere at supersonic speeds.

The cyclone of ice blades hit a moment later and Harry was sent stumbling back from the force of it. There was an unholy screeching as the ice shards dragged across his armor, but nothing penetrated. The visor of his helm was badly scratched up and so was the rest of his armor, which said a lot about how powerful that spell had been. His cloak was completely shredded.

He was quick to get back on his feet and look for his foe.

Azshara wasn't hard to spot. She was standing just slightly to the side of the new crater with not even a smudge of dirt on her. The only sign that she had been even slightly inconvenienced was a barely perceptible increase to her breathing indicative of an unexpected scare. She was doing a great job of hiding it though, but must have had to scramble to protect herself.

"For one so young, you dance well." The Naga Queen said whimsically.

Young? Well, fair enough. Azshara was over fifteen thousand years old.

"And you have not allowed your skills to atrophy despite a lack of worthy dance partners." He complimented back. "Most commendable."

That was something he could respect, problematic as it was at the moment. Of course, there was always the chance that she had gotten lazy over the past ten thousand years and was simply relying on a small repertoire of common spells that had never failed her, but he didn't think so. Her instincts were too sharp.

"Oh, you think yourself a worthy partner, do you?" She asked silkily.

"But of course!" Harry returned with exaggerated energy. "Why would I want to go through life feeling unworthy?"

"Well then, let's see how long you can keep up with me." Azshara brandished her scepter and attacked again. Streams of Arcana Missiles flowed from her hand.

Harry was already moving, imbuing his staff with a property of magical deflection. The missiles had a predictable trajectory and were easily blocked. The unstable Arcane Bombs which popped up all over the battlefield were a bigger problem, however.

A quick Dispel Magic handled the one he nearly blundered into, but he couldn't dedicate the mental processing power to so neatly defuse each one. Instead, he drew on the Void to spawn a flock of shadow ravens out of his own shadow. The hollow magical constructs dived towards the Arcane Bombs and swallowed them whole, each exploding into a new flock that sought out more magic.

Azshara suddenly exploded with a blinding flash of light, evaporating all the Void constructs.

Harry was very unhappy about that, because it conclusively proved that the Queen of the Naga was still capable of using Light-infused sorcery despite her deal with one of the Void abominations. But he had no time to grumble, his opponent was left wide open for just a moment.

She had proven herself too skilled for a direct attack to work, so he took an oblique angle. A spell aimed at the air itself, a transfiguration designed to break down molecular bonds and reform them into carbon monoxide. Rarely useful, but since Azshara had trapped them in a closed system with her water dome ward…

"What is that spell? I've not seen the like of it before." She asked casually, her burning gaze narrowed. The barrage of Arcane Missiles continued unabated, demonstrating her mastery of it by how little focus she had to dedicate to it. "An alteration of some sort, but I cannot tell of what."

"It's a surprise." Harry grunted back, displeased that she had noticed him casting it at all. In between blocking the Arcane Missiles with his staff, he dragged the blade across the ground and flicked it towards her, casting the Burden of Gold.

The stone and dirt came apart, transmuting into gold dust that was drawn towards her as if magnetized. The cloud of gold dust clung to her skin and garments – he could hardly call that silly corset-breastplate thing she was wearing armor. In the normal course of events, the weight of the accumulating gold dust should have eventually become unbearably heavy, but of course she had a counter to this as well.

Water surged towards her and scrubbed away the gold dust from her skin, then reached outward to snap up whatever was still swirling in the air. Once all the gold dust had been collected, the water narrowed into a pinpoint thin stream and fired towards his leg. Because she still hadn't stopped blasting Arcane Missiles at him, Harry was too slow (and slightly too incredulous, because even if Azshara didn't realize it, she had just used her mastery of water to create a bastardized particle cannon) to block. The thin stream of gold-impregnated water struck him in the thigh and rapidly drilled through his armor. The spellforged arcanite plate was enormously tough, but it gave out quicker than Azshara's will. And the gold dust inside the water still carried a trace of his magic, which unfortunately made it more effective against the armor, which also carried his magic.

Harry's leg buckled as it was pierced by the water stream. His elementium bones took no damage from the elemental attack, but the force of the hit was great and the water spray inside his leg shredded his muscles. It would have been a crippling injury if he didn't have troll regeneration.

"How clever you are! How powerful!" Azshara crooned at him, laying off the attack. "I have not been so impressed by a man in ages. We shall have such wonderful discussions, you and I."

Harry wasn't sure if that was a euphemism for torture sessions or if she honestly expected him to succumb to her enthrallment. With how arrogant she was, she might even believe that he just needed to get to know her better and he'd be willing to do whatever she asked.

"The sentiment is mutual." He responded, getting back on his feet as soon as his leg healed. "I haven't had this much difficulty in a magical duel since I was a child."

The longer he could keep her talking, the better. His earlier spell was still slowly chugging out carbon monoxide and unlike him, Azshara had no helmet with a built in rebreather.

"I will be glad to hear about the world you came from." She said graciously, as if it was a foregone conclusion that he would be telling her about it.

Harry had to push down the urge to taunt her, to share his theory about her needing a good fucking, to poke and prod and annoy. It would definitely get her angry – he could clearly see what she was the humorless type when it came to her own pride – but that might not be the best thing in this situation. No magic user became as powerful as her by being unable to master their emotions and he didn't want combat to resume just yet.

"You would have hated it, I'm sure." He said lightly, going through a mental index of viable spells. "It was populated by billions of humans and a smattering of other intelligent races. The only elves were house elves, a servant race created by human wizards centuries before my birth."

"Hmm, it sounds like a world that needs to be introduced to the glory of Azshara." Said Azshara the Supremely Arrogant, not a trace of irony in her tone.

"I'm going to have to disagree. I still have descendants living in that particular version of my world and I'd be a poor ancestor if trouble was brought to them because of me."

"Is that what you think of me?" Azshara's eyes became half-lidded, her tone soft and dangerous. "Trouble?"

"My dear, you are easily the most troublesome woman I have ever met." Harry took a firmer grip of his staff, sensing the brief reprieve coming to an end. "I salute you."

By the unspoken rules of their 'dance' it was his turn to make a move, but if he took too long to decide on one, then he would forfeit the initiative. Fortunately, he had already decided on one. It would probably make her angry, but it was a risk he had to take.

Harry sent out a necromantic beacon, calling on every restless soul haunting these lands for miles around. A call to which a small touch of Azshara's magic was attached. There were many, many dead here who would recognize it.

Azshara's head immediately jerked sideways as a distant howling was heard. First came one ghost, then two, then a handful more, and then it was a veritable tide of them, all screaming recriminations at their former queen.

That kept her busy enough that Harry was able to speed up the carbon monoxide production, but only just.

"Silence!" Azshara screamed back at the ghosts, disposing of the swarm with a burst of Void magic. "You cannot judge your queen!"

"You can hardly blame them." Harry pointed out reasonably. "You did get them killed."

She glared at him in response, genuinely annoyed for the first time in this fight. "Sacrifices are always required in the name of glorious pursuits."

"I won't say you're wrong, but I do think you went about it the wrong way." He shrugged. "Someone like you didn't need an idiot like Sargeras."

That actually made her blink in surprise. "You call the Dark Titan a fool?"

"What else can I call him? Did N'zoth ever tell you why he started his Burning Crusade? He's throwing a tantrum because the universe isn't perfect." Harry snorted.

"Perfection is something to strive for." She argued back.

Harry smiled, the expression safely concealed by his helmet. Her stance was a shade less firm than before, her gaze slightly less focused, her eyes drooping minutely, her words taking a split second longer to form. The carbon monoxide was doing its job.

"Perfection is both unattainable and boring." He shrugged casually. "Flaws are what allow for growth and opportunity."

"I…" Azshara verbally stumbled, frowning as she searched for the words.

But then suddenly her eyes sharpened and she stared at down at him with a cruel smirk. "That spell earlier… you did something to the air, you sneaky boy. Azshara never falters."

Un-fucking-believable. She's so full of herself that she refuses to even entertain the idea of missing a step. Harry groused at having his plan discovered, bracing himself for her counter.

And what a counter it was. With a wave of her scepter, water rushed up from the nearby ocean and passed through the ward encircling them, filling it to the brim.

His armor allowed for underwater breathing, but this was still a bad situation. Naga were aquatic creatures, meaning that Azshara had effectively been fighting with a handicap this whole time. There was no way he'd be able to keep up like this.

But he wasn't out of tricks yet and this move wasn't unexpected. A specialized transfiguration spell began separating the water into its component parts of oxygen and hydrogen. To the outside observer, the water looked like it rapidly disintegrated. To Harry's disappointment, his spell didn't affect the ward barrier, but he wasn't too surprised that the magic of it was keeping it together.

"It's been a blast, Azshara." He couldn't resist mocking as he conjured up a tiny spark of flame.

A tiny spark of flame inside a closed environment that had just been filled with extremely combustible hydrogen gas and plenty of oxygen to oxidize the reaction. Because of the water barrier, the resulting explosion couldn't expand upwards or to the sides, so the pressure wave came back downwards like the hammer of a god.

Harry's bones were unbreakable and his more fleshy parts were safeguarded by spellforged armor designed to redistribute force across its surface as much as possible. The explosion was powerful, but entirely mundane, so it had no ability to bypass his numerous protections.

That being said, his regeneration still had to fix a full-body bruise. But hey, it was better than being turned into a charred lump of pulverized bone and organ soup.

"I think that I am no longer interested in playing with you." Azshara's previously enchanting voice now held a definite angry hiss to it.

Her skin was charred and burned, but was already healing from the restorative magic coming from her scepter. Because of course she knew healing magic as well.

"Let me guess." Harry said, getting back on his feet. "You used the water in your skin as a shield against the explosion?"

What absolute bullshit levels of mastery. He couldn't even be mad, it was amazing.

Azshara must have sensed something of his attitude, because she preened. "Indeed. Now, are you going to come quietly or must we continue this uncivilized exchange?"

"I have been assured, by many people across many time periods, that I am the most contrary man they have ever met." Harry responded grimly, giving his staff a flourish. "I would hate to make liars of them all."

XXXXX

Luna gently picked up Harry's helmet. It was scratched up and blackened from an explosion, and the ground it had been laying on was a spell-blasted ruin. It was clear that he had been defeated, but he hadn't gone down easily.

"Why didn't he call us?!" Arko seethed with angry worry. "Isn't that why we have these bracelets and connected helmets in the first place?"

"We were fighting our own battles." Luna answered softly. She and Harry had long made peace with loss and this wasn't the first time they had been separated from each other. He was still alive and would return.

"I thought he would be more selfish than that." Colette's words had a hint of bitterness to them that made Luna smile. She had become attached quite quickly.

"Who did he face here that could overcome him?" Garona asked the big question.

Luna had some idea, given that her sense for Harry's location was telling her that he was hundreds of miles to the east and about four miles down, but there was no need to speculate. "He left a message for us in his helmet."

She triggered the spell he left behind and Harry's voice filtered out of the helmet, heavily strained and a little pained.

"Ambushed by Azshara. Wants something from me. Intends to keep me prisoner. Naga allied with N'Zoth. Will try to find way to contact you."

"Queen Azshara is still alive." Jessir's voice was disbelieving and full of dread.

"And she took our man." Colette's tone was considerably darker. She was gripping her sword angrily.

"Harry can't be kept prisoner." Luna reassured. "His nature won't allow it."

The reminder cheered them all up a bit, but they were still worried.

"We should report back to Lady Tyrande." Arko said reluctantly. "There's nothing we can do here."

XXXXX

OMAKE – For the glory of Azshara

"I must say I didn't expect you to actually agree with me." The Queen of the Naga said.

"I don't agree with you." Harry said back firmly. "My true homeworld has recovered from these evil times and become better. This parallel version of it, however, is still lost and can only be improved by your radiance."

He had quickly discovered that a little flattery went a long way when dealing with Azshara. She wasn't weak to it so much as she expected people to kiss her ass. It made her less cranky to inject a backhanded compliment every so often.

"All worlds can only be improved by my radiance, but this one will be a good start." She declared. Not even arrogantly, merely as if stating a fact. "And you say that this device will help illuminate the masses?"

"That's right." Harry nodded. "Through the power of YouTube, Twitch, TikTok, Twitter, Facebook and others, thousands of irrelevant nobodies scream into the Void for attention. You will sweep them all away forever."

Azshara was intrigued and agreed to try becoming a social media influencer. It took her a month to conquer the world and turn all humanity, men and women both, into her simps. Regimes toppled, political agendas disappeared and petty bureaucratic schemes came to ruin as everyone was united in their thirst for the extra-dimensional snake/tentacle lady.

Harry was pleased with what he had done. The dopamine hits along with her pride and vanity should keep Azshara busy for at least a while as she worked to reach people that didn't have easy access to technology and it wasn't like this timeline had anything worth preserving that couldn't be found elsewhere.