Into the Light

48 | BROTHERS UNITE

The Na'aru began to spin faster, the increasing pressure of her wings making the air vibrate. The walls of the Chamber shimmered, becoming translucent. The light brightened, the room fading to white. Illidan couldn't see the others anymore. Irritated, he turned and cast a wall of fel at the annoying thing, to extinguish it. White light exploded outwards from it, surrounded him, blinding him, burning the fel out of him. Pain screamed through him, weakness returned. His thoughts scattered. Who was he? Where was he?

Silence. He floated in endless Light. His vision returned, slow. Was he dead? Please, do not let his body be gone once more. He lifted his hands, or what he believed would be his hands. Before his eyes, they began to disintegrate, breaking into thousands of tiny cubes, so small, they flowed like water. The disintegration spread to his arms, consuming his torso, his legs, and finally his cloven hooves. The pieces of him whirled into a vortex, darting and spiralling around him like a vast school of fish. Somewhere in the centre of the silent maelstrom, was his awareness, his consciousness, just like when he had awoken the Nether. Once more he was nothing. He screamed. No sound came.

The Light parted, and from his cocoon he saw another maelstrom spinning in the distance in total silence. It moved, slow, closing the space. Fear came then. Illidan could not comprehend any of this. Nothing he learned about death had prepared him for this. The other swirling mass approached, building momentum, moving faster. He realised what was going to happen. He tried to pull away, but the Light held him firm in its grip. He sensed the outer edges of the other seething pillar touching his own. Its pieces began to infiltrate him, his mass growing, doubling, Light surrounded him, healing him, empowering him, binding the two lives into one. Understanding came. He asked the question, even though he was certain of the answer.

Malfurion?

Brother, I am not long for this world, but I will aid you in your fight. Malfurion answered, his voice strong once more. We must not waste what the Na'aru has sacrificed for us, and for Azeroth.

I will not fail you, Malfurion.

Let us save the woman we love, together.

The Light flared, brilliant, one last time. A low, mournful chime filled Illidan's senses. He blinked. Once more he stood within the Chamber of the Eye, the walls, floor and even the distant ceiling glowed, suffused in clean, white light. He looked for the Na'aru, but where she should be, he found only empty space. He took a step back, and felt something snap under his tread. He looked down. Xe'ra's silent husk lay on the stone floor, the crystal pieces of her entity blackened and broken. He stared, stunned. She had given up all of her light. And now, the last Na'aru was gone. She looked so small and fragile. Without her light, she was nothing, ephemeral. A spasm of grief shot through him. She had given up everything to stop the Legion. He would not fail her. He felt his hands clench into fists. The light in the Chamber brightened.

He stared at his hands, and then the rest of his body, astonished. He glowed with the light of the Na'aru. No longer did he bear the form of a demon hunter, Xe'ra's work had cleansed him. He was himself, a night elf once more, just as he was long ago in Suramar before the Legion's arrival. He sensed Malfurion's wild druidic power coursing through him alongside powerful surges of his own ancient arcane power, lost long ago during his transformation into a demon hunter.

Ahead, the little trio of mages--all there was left of Dalaran's rescue party--stood behind their frozen shield, immobile, their staves raised, defiant. He turned, even Tyrande, under the powerful thrall of Sargeras was not moving. Illidan realised Xe'ra had given him one final gift. During his transformation, she had stopped time, and by doing so had given him a great advantage.

But not for long. He could feel the creep of time returning, the low hum of the arcane magic being cast by Khadgar and Kalec; the chill in the air, caused by the presence of the enigmatic frost mage, and the metallic stink of Gul'dan's blood. Illidan turned, harnessing the power within him, and cast the three schools of magic as one. Arcane, wild magic and holy light poured out of him into Tyrande.

She jolted. He had enough time to hit her once more. His heart aching, he released the combined energies of his new powers against her, burning her. She juddered, still trapped in the amber of time. He was hurting her, he knew it. Even if Sargeras's mind was upon her, controlling her, her body was still hers, and the pain would be her own, just as she had suffered in the sphere. Only now it was not Elune who was burning her, but him. Light, the blessed, clean, holy light of the Na'aru, now housed within him, left him, draining away into her, cleansing her, burning the corruption of fel from her spirit.

Time returned. Arcane fire hit him in the back. He staggered, gasping. Khadgar and Kalec were powerful, much more than he had credited them for. He ignored the pain and continued to cast, focussing all his energy on banishing Sargeras from Tyrande--even if it meant killing her. He could hear the shouts of Khadgar as he called to the others, giving them new orders. Arcane fire slammed into her. Illidan almost couldn't bear it. They were killing her. He was killing her to save her. Never in his worst imaginings could he have foreseen this ending between them.

Tyrande's face twisted, becoming ugly, darkened by the rage of Sargeras. She thrust out her arms, fel energy crackling around her fingers. Illidan braced himself for her onslaught. A wall of ice rose up between them, absorbing enough fel to demolish a city. The shield remained, intact. Illidan turned, gaping. Who was that woman? As she held the shield in place her violet eyes glowed bright. Illidan's senses--enhanced by the Na'aru's light--told him he was looking at no ordinary human. She was something else. Whatever she had come to do here in the Chamber, it was not to just cast ice walls. She was biding her time, but why? He caught her gaze flicker to Khadgar, saw the anguish in her face. Ah. Hope. She was hoping the others could finish Sargeras so she wouldn't have to. Fel slammed against the ice wall again, Tyrande screaming in frustration as her attacks were rendered useless against the other woman's magic.

From behind the barrier, Illidan continued to cast his spells, until his arms shook from fatigue. He had unleashed enough power to take down an entire an army of demons, yet Tyrande still stood, driven by the fury of Sargeras; her eyes aflame, her body ravaged, pieces of her flesh hung loose, her skin blistered and bubbled, some of it had even melted away, liquefied. She was almost unrecognisable.

Illidan continued to cast, longing for her to die, so the nightmare would end; so her suffering and pain would end. Somewhere inside the creature she had become, was the woman he had loved for thousands of years, he knew she would be longing for the release of death, and he was determined to grant her that. Behind him, he heard Khadgar and Kalec casting spells, using all of their power to aid him. Soon now, she would fall. There was almost nothing left of her for Sargeras to use. Choking back his tears, Illidan focussed his mind and continued to fire lethal bolts at the woman he loved, to save her, and bring an end to the Legion, once and for all.