The ancient stones of Sandar Hill hummed with arcane energy, their crystalline veins pulsing like a heartbeat beneath the dying light of dusk. Krasus, his draconic features barely concealed beneath mortal flesh, stood motionless as granite, his amber eyes reflecting the wisdom of millennia. When he finally spoke, his voice carried the weight of eons, each word deliberate and heavy as falling stones.
"Now is a critical time for the Alliance to counterattack the Horde." The words hung in the air like incense, thick with portent. "Terenas will not make trouble at this time, his pragmatism serves him well when survival is at stake. But mark my words, young prince, it's hard to say what storms will come after the war. You would do well to prepare for all eventualities."
The Red Dragon Queen had departed with the sunset, her crimson scales catching the last rays of light as she disappeared into the gathering twilight. But Krasus remained, bound by duty and ancient oaths to illuminate the treacherous path ahead. Some truths, he knew, required careful explanation, the kind that could only be spoken when the weight of dragons' wings no longer pressed upon mortal ears.
Kael'thas turned from where he had been watching the horizon, his emerald eyes glinting with an almost predatory amusement. The prince's smile was sharp as winter frost, beautiful and cutting in equal measure. "After the war?" He laughed, the sound like silver bells touched by arctic wind. "Oh, my dear Krasus, he won't have time to spare a single thought for troubling me after the war ends."
The elf prince began to pace, his movements fluid and controlled, each step calculated like a chess master contemplating his next move. His flame strike caught the ethereal light emanating from the World Tree above, its enhanced power creating dancing shadows that seemed almost alive.
"Consider the magnitude of his burdens," Kael'thas continued, his voice taking on the cadence of a scholar lecturing on inevitabilities. "The ownership of the Alterac Kingdom, that festering wound of betrayal that bleeds political poison into every council meeting. The resettlement of the orcs, what does one do with thousands of displaced warriors whose very existence is an affront to human sensibilities? Post-disaster reconstruction across half the continent, cities reduced to rubble, farmlands salted with blood, trade routes severed like cut arteries."
He paused, allowing his words to settle like sediment in still water, then delivered his final observation with surgical precision: "And then there's the matter of the heir."
The temperature seemed to drop several degrees as Kael'thas's expression grew contemplative, almost pitying. "Don't forget, among the leaders of the Seven Kingdoms, Terenas bears the heaviest crown of years. His body betrays him with each passing season, I've seen how his hands shake during council meetings, how his breath comes short after climbing stairs. The winter of his life approaches with measured steps."
Kael'thas stopped his pacing and faced Krasus directly, his green eyes burning with an inner fire that seemed to rival the World Tree's glow. "If he chooses to waste his remaining years troubling me instead of properly cultivating an heir to carry the Menethil legacy forward, then he courts disaster. Does he truly wish to risk his family's lineage being severed like a thread, allowing the royal power to scatter like leaves in an autumn storm?"
The prince's voice softened slightly, taking on an almost reflective quality that spoke of genuine assessment rather than mere criticism. "In all fairness, Terenas possesses both character and ability that shine like polished steel among the leaders of the Seven Kingdoms. His wisdom has guided the Alliance through its darkest hours, his diplomacy has bound fractious nations into common purpose. I harbor no personal animosity toward the man himself, in another world, we might have been allies, perhaps even friends."
His expression hardened again, the momentary warmth replaced by the cold calculus of geopolitical reality. "However, the harsh truth remains inescapable: Quel'Thalas and Lordaeron share more than a border, we share a destiny of inevitable conflict. Like two rivers that must eventually merge, any outward expansion by either kingdom leads to the same confluence. Geography is destiny, and destiny cares nothing for personal sentiment."
Kael'thas's gaze turned northward, toward the distant spires of Lordaeron, visible as mere glimmers of light in the gathering darkness. "From a national standpoint, from the perspective of our peoples' futures, Terenas and I are natural archenemies. The board is set, the pieces are in position, and history's inexorable hand moves us toward confrontation."
Vereesa, who had been listening with the stillness of a trained ranger, suddenly broke into melodic laughter that rang like silver chimes across the hilltop. Her violet eyes sparkled with mischievous delight as she spoke. "Oh, Terenas should have received our messages by now, shouldn't he? I can almost picture his face, that careful mask of diplomatic composure cracking like ice in spring."
She clapped her hands together with childlike glee. "He must be absolutely furious beneath that royal bearing of his, displeased beyond measure and eager to march his armies south to teach us proper respect. But here's the delicious irony, for all his rage, for all his righteous indignation, he can't do anything more than send strongly worded letters and diplomatic protests. Words, mere words, while we command the high ground both literally and figuratively!"
Her laughter trailed off into the cool evening air, but her smile remained, sharp and satisfied.
Kael'thas's attention suddenly shifted, his enhanced senses picking up something his companions had missed. His head turned with predatory focus toward a seemingly empty patch of sky, his eyes narrowing as they pierced through veils both magical and mundane. When he spoke, his voice carried the quiet authority of absolute certainty.
"That raises an interesting question for our distinguished Speaker." His words seemed addressed to the empty air, but they carried with deadly precision. "After watching for so long from your aerial perch, after listening with such patient attention to our private discourse, isn't it time to abandon this charade of invisibility and show yourself properly?"
The silence that followed stretched taut as a bowstring, pregnant with tension and the electricity of exposed secrets.
A voice materialized from the void, rich with rueful admiration and perhaps a touch of embarrassment. "You can pierce through my invisibility enchantments from such a distance, Kael'thas. Remarkable. It seems your recent communion with the Dragon Aspects has yielded benefits far beyond what most mortals dare dream."
The air shimmered and twisted like heat rising from sun-baked stones, reality folding in on itself before revealing its hidden occupant. Antonidas emerged from nothingness like a photograph developing in slow motion, seated cross-legged upon an ornate magic carpet that hovered with perfect stability. His robes, deep blue and embroidered with silver runes that seemed to move in the peripheral vision, billowed gently in the high-altitude winds. His beard, white as fresh snow and long as a dwarf's memory, was braided with small gems that caught and reflected the arcane energies swirling around Sandar Hill.
The Archmage first offered a respectful nod to Krasus, a gesture between equals who had shared both battlefields and scholarly debates across the centuries. Then his pale blue eyes, sharp as winter stars despite their age-worn surroundings, fixed upon Kael'thas with an intensity that seemed to weigh and measure everything it beheld.
For several heartbeats, Antonidas studied the elven prince in absolute silence, his gaze cataloging changes both subtle and profound. But it was the weapon at Kael'thas's side that truly captured his attention, causing his wizened brow to furrow with confusion and growing amazement.
Is this still the same flame strike? he wondered, his mental voice thick with disbelief. How has it been so completely transformed?
The weapon that hung at the prince's hip bore only superficial resemblance to the artifact he remembered. Where once it had pulsed with contained fire elemental energy, now it blazed with power that made the air around it dance with heat mirages. Antonidas could sense, even without magical examination, that the fire elemental energy contained within the blade had increased exponentially, the raw power of this mage artifact had improved by no less than thirty percent, possibly more.
This must be a personal reward from the Dragon Aspects themselves, he reasoned, his scholarly mind racing through implications. The flame strike was originally far inferior to legendary artifacts like Aluneth, barely superior to weapons like Ebonchill. But now... now it subtly surpasses even those renowned blades. Has Kael'thas truly grown so much stronger in so short a time?
But it was another item that truly set Antonidas's pulse racing with academic excitement and deep-seated concern. His eyes were drawn inexorably to the golden disc pendant that hung from Kael'thas's neck, its surface smooth as still water, betraying nothing of its true nature to casual observation. The pendant appeared utterly mundane, no visible runes marred its polished surface, no energy fluctuations disturbed the air around it. To any casual observer, it might have been common jewelry, the sort of trinket one could purchase for a handful of gold coins in any of Dalaran's finer establishments.
But Antonidas was far from any casual observer.
How could that possibly be? his mind raced with increasing urgency. The Prince of the High Elves, a legendary mage whose very name carries weight across continents, whose sword is a fire mage artifact of immense power, whose staff, amulet, rings, and robes represent a fortune in magical implements, each item worth more gold than most kingdoms see in a year. How could such a man, whose every possession reflects his status and power, wear something so seemingly ordinary?
Memory struck him like lightning, sharp and illuminating. He recalled with crystalline clarity that after the brutal Zul'Aman campaign, Kael'thas's original epic-grade pendant had been replaced by something far more sinister, a curiously shaped ring of cursed bone that had once belonged to the legendary Warlord Zul'jin himself. That grisly trophy had hung around the prince's neck like a badge of victory, its dark energies barely contained within the yellowed bone.
Now that cursed ring was gone, vanished without explanation, replaced by this deceptively simple golden disc. For a mind like Antonidas's, trained in the logical progressions of magical theory and the practical applications of power, there was only one possible explanation:
This pendant must be more powerful than the cursed bone ring, significantly more powerful. Very likely of legendary quality at minimum, and given the timing and circumstances, almost certainly connected to the Dragon Aspects themselves.
The implications sent a chill down his spine that had nothing to do with the mountain air.
Dragon Aspects... golden... disc-shaped... The thoughts aligned like stars forming a constellation, and suddenly a name blazed across his consciousness with terrifying clarity. Could it possibly be... the Demon Soul?
The possibility hit him with such force that he nearly lost his composure entirely. For a heartbeat, his weathered features showed naked shock before iron discipline reasserted itself.
No, no, he forced himself to reason, grasping for rationality like a drowning man reaching for driftwood. The Dragon Aspects would never, could never, allow Kael'thas to possess the Demon Soul! That artifact represents too much pain, too much betrayal, too much concentrated evil for them to ever permit its continued existence in any form.
Memory surfaced again, this time of recent events that had shaken the very foundations of the world. And I distinctly recall sensing high-tier demigod-level energy fluctuations emanating from Grim Batol during the recent crisis. Kael'thas himself confirmed that the Demon Soul was destroyed in that confrontation. The energy signature was unmistakable, the complete dissolution of an artifact of that magnitude would create exactly such phenomena.
But even as he reasoned through the impossibility, another explanation began to form in his brilliant mind. Perhaps... perhaps the Demon Soul did lose all its accumulated energy during its destruction, reverting to ordinary gold and precious metals. Kael'thas could have recovered the raw materials and had them reforged into memorial jewelry, a trophy commemorating his role in one of the most significant events in recent history.
Yet even as the thought formed, he dismissed it with scholarly precision. No, that explanation doesn't fit the pattern. Kael'thas is nothing if not practical, a pragmatist who values function over sentiment. He wouldn't waste time or effort on purely decorative items, not when he could be enhancing his magical arsenal instead. This pendant must serve a purpose, it must be a magical item of considerable power, quite possibly an artifact in its own right.
A third possibility crystallized, one that made his blood run both hot and cold simultaneously. There's another explanation, one that fits all the available evidence: the Dragon Aspects bestowed this pendant upon Kael'thas as a reward for his service during the crisis. They could have imbued it with legendary-level energies, possibly even touching the realm of demigod power. The Dragon Aspects possess methods and knowledge that surpass mortal understanding, they could easily seal tremendous energies within such a device while preventing even the slightest leak that might betray its true nature.
It would be normal, even expected, that I couldn't sense anything unusual about it. That very inability to detect its power might be the strongest evidence of its potency.
In the span of just a few heartbeats, after only a handful of careful glances, Antonidas had pieced together the truth with the precision of a master detective. His gaze when it returned to Kael'thas carried new weight, solemnity mixed with undisguised envy, and beneath it all, a growing wariness that spoke to the shifting balance of power he now perceived.
Kael'thas, seemingly unaware of the Archmage's internal revelations, offered a smile that managed to be both gracious and slightly mocking. "Casting invisibility enchantments while maintaining magical flight in high-altitude winds, the energy fluctuations such a combination produces cannot be completely concealed, no matter how skilled the practitioner."
His tone carried the easy confidence of superior knowledge delivered without malice. "If you had been positioned on the ground, I grant you, the task would have been significantly more challenging. At a thousand meters of separation, perhaps I might have remained unaware of your presence until you closed to within a hundred meters or less."
The two arcane practitioners exchanged knowing smiles, their conversation dancing on multiple levels of meaning like light refracting through crystal.
Krasus, who had observed this entire exchange with the patient amusement of someone who had witnessed such displays countless times over the centuries, merely shrugged his powerful shoulders. He recognized the ritual for what it was, mutual flattery disguised as technical discussion, the sort of professional courtesy that mages employed to establish respect without admitting weakness. Interesting in its way, perhaps, but hardly worth his continued attention when more pressing matters demanded consideration.
Antonidas directed his attention downward toward the base of Sandar Hill, where the newly grown World Tree rose like a pillar connecting earth to sky. His voice carried a note of profound longing that spoke to desires he rarely allowed himself to voice. "Another World Tree," he murmured, the words heavy with reverence and barely contained covetousness. "And not just any World Tree, but an Arcane Tree, one rooted directly into a major Ley Line node."
He paused, allowing his enhanced senses to drink in the incredible energies swirling around them like invisible rivers of pure power. "The ambient energy density here surpasses even Dalaran's most potent concentrations by a considerable margin. The implications for magical research, for the advancement of arcane knowledge itself..."
His voice took on a note that was almost plaintive, the carefully maintained mask of diplomatic professionalism slipping to reveal the hungry scholar beneath. "To be completely honest, I would gladly take up permanent residence here if circumstances permitted. To be constantly nourished by such concentrated natural and arcane energies, it might extend my lifespan by decades, perhaps even allow me to finally achieve the breakthrough to high-tier legendary status that has eluded me for so many years."
Kael'thas's response came without hesitation, delivered with the warmth of genuine hospitality and the calculated precision of masterful politics. "You would be welcome beyond measure! If you chose to relocate here, I would personally ensure that a magnificent mage tower was constructed for your use, positioned right there, near the Tree's crown. I guarantee it would be taller and more magnificent than the Violet Citadel itself, with chambers and laboratories equipped with the finest facilities gold and magic can provide."
The prince's smile broadened, taking on an almost evangelical fervor as he expanded his invitation. "And not just you, honored Antonidas. Any mage from Dalaran who wishes to pursue their studies in this optimal environment would find themselves welcomed with open arms and generous support. The truth is, I'm genuinely concerned about our inability to fully utilize the immense Ley Line energies concentrated here. It represents such tremendous waste, power that could advance magical knowledge by generations, simply dissipating unused into the aether."
He leaned forward slightly, his green eyes bright with enthusiasm and unmistakable calculation. "Would you perhaps be willing to help me spread word of this opportunity? Think of the advances in magical theory that could be achieved, the spells that could be developed, the boundaries of arcane knowledge that could be pushed ever further..."
Antonidas couldn't help but release a sound that was part laugh, part groan of exasperated admiration. "Kael'thas, you stand here attempting to poach Dalaran's most valuable citizens right in front of me, and then have the audacity to ask me to assist in your recruitment efforts. Your boldness is truly breathtaking, I'm not certain whether to admire your confidence or be appalled by your shamelessness."
Kael'thas's expression was the picture of wounded innocence, though his eyes sparkled with unrepentant mischief. "Shameless? I find that assessment rather unfair. If we're measuring such qualities, I would submit that every other leader's approach to diplomacy makes my methods appear positively restrained by comparison."
He shrugged eloquently, a gesture that managed to convey both casual dismissal and pointed accusation. "Take Terenas, for instance, his recent territorial claims regarding the Alterac succession. Or perhaps we should consider Kurdran's 'negotiations' regarding gryphon rider support, which seemed to involve considerably more implicit threats than actual bargaining."
His smile turned sharp with memory. "In all honesty, while I may possess some small experience in taking advantage of favorable circumstances, I consider myself a rank amateur compared to Kurdran's mastery of shameless manipulation."
But then his expression shifted, becoming suddenly serious, the playful banter falling away like a discarded mask to reveal the earnest purpose beneath. "However, I'm not merely jesting here. I have a serious proposal to make, one that could benefit both our peoples immeasurably."
He leaned forward, his voice taking on the persuasive cadence of someone presenting a solution to problems his audience hadn't even fully recognized yet. "Why don't we arrange to move Dalaran itself?"
The words hung in the air like a thunderclap, their implications so vast and unexpected that even Antonidas's considerable composure wavered visibly.
"Consider the practical reality," Kael'thas continued, pressing his advantage with the precision of a skilled debater. "While Dalaran's current location does sit atop a Ley Line node, the energy density there pales in comparison to what we have here. The difference isn't marginal, it's exponential. For mages, for magical research, for the advancement of arcane knowledge that you've dedicated your entire life to pursuing, this location represents an unprecedented opportunity."
His gesture encompassed the entire hilltop, the World Tree above them, and the vast energies flowing beneath their feet. "As long as you give your agreement to the proposal, I would gladly designate a substantial area above Sandar Hill for Dalaran's use. The available space is more than sufficient to accommodate two complete cities, with room for future expansion as our populations grow and our research facilities multiply."
Antonidas stared at the elven prince for a long moment, his expression cycling through disbelief, consideration, and finally settling on something that might have been amused resignation. "Kael'thas, your proposal is so ambitious it borders on fantasy. You really are dreaming if you think such a massive undertaking could be accomplished."
But Kael'thas's response came with unwavering seriousness, his voice carrying the weight of absolute conviction. "It's not dreaming, it's planning for inevitabilities that others prefer to ignore. This proposal isn't about my ambitions or political maneuvering. It's about the future of all mages, the advancement of magical research that could benefit every race and nation, and most critically, the safety and survival of Dalaran itself."
His green eyes bored into Antonidas with laser intensity, demanding attention to truths that comfortable assumptions preferred to avoid. "Speaker, I need you to honestly consider a question you may not have asked yourself: what would happen if the Horde decided to attack Dalaran with their full military might during this war? Could you, could your defenses, could even your considerable personal power actually stop them?"
The question struck home with visible impact, Antonidas's confident expression faltering slightly as he confronted possibilities he had perhaps preferred not to examine too closely.
"Furthermore," Kael'thas pressed on relentlessly, "you and I both possess knowledge that most others lack, we understand that behind the orcish Horde stands a far more terrible enemy. The Burning Legion's shadow falls across all our endeavors, their corruption seeps into our world through cracks we can barely perceive. What happens when they invade again? Not if, when. In front of legendary-tier demons, demigod-level entities whose power dwarfs anything we currently face, Dalaran becomes no more defensible than Stormwind proved to be."
His voice softened slightly, taking on a tone of genuine care mixed with urgent practicality. "But if you relocated here, the advantages would multiply exponentially. Abundant energy supply for both defensive measures and offensive capabilities. High altitude positioning that provides natural fortification against ground-based assaults. Proximity to allies who could provide immediate support rather than having to march for days to reach you. Most importantly, access to energies and resources that could allow Dalaran's mages to reach new heights of power, heights that might actually matter when facing demigod-level threats."
He paused, allowing his words to settle, then delivered his final point with quiet sincerity. "I want you to understand, I'm not presenting this proposal lightly or for purely selfish reasons. Yes, having Dalaran allied with Quel'Thalas would provide immense benefits to our kingdom and our people. But I'm also genuinely thinking of Dalaran's future, of its survival in a world that grows more dangerous with each passing year."
The silence that followed stretched across the hilltop like morning mist, heavy with possibility and fraught with implications that could reshape the political landscape of entire continents. In that moment of consideration, as arcane energies swirled around them and the World Tree's power hummed through the very stones beneath their feet, the future balanced on the edge of words yet to be spoken, decisions yet to be made, and alliances yet to be forged.
Among the Seven Human Kingdoms, Dalaran represented both the highest concentration of magical power and the most crucial strategic asset. If such a city-state could be drawn into Quel'Thalas's sphere of influence, if not as a full alliance, then at least as a committed neutral party, the balance of power across the entire Eastern Kingdoms would shift in ways that could echo through generations.
As the three figures stood silhouetted against the growing darkness, with energies beyond mortal comprehension flowing around them and the weight of history pressing upon their shoulders, the next words spoken would carry consequences that none of them could fully foresee.