Laynella and Shandris were of the same generation; because she had been guarding the Emerald Dream for a long time, the Night Elves of her age had already married or even had children.
However, age was not an issue for the immortal Night Elves. Andreas planned to introduce a young 'fresh meat' to the hardworking Laynella to see if it would work.
Shandris, with a face full of smiles, held Laynella's hand and asked, "Do you plan to go back this time?"
"I'm not going back."
Laynella sighed with some melancholy, "Seven thousand years of guarding is enough. I plan to reintegrate into the real world. I'll have to trouble you to guide me more in the future."
Unlike Lunara, who frequently moved between the Dream and reality, Laynella's perennial guarding carried a sense of self-exile.
Laynella had a cheerful and outgoing personality and had a wide circle of friends before the War of the Ancients.
But in that large-scale war of demonic invasion, she lost too many friends and family members. This was undoubtedly a heavy blow to the sentimental Laynella.
Although Shandris and Andreas repeatedly tried to persuade her to stay after the war, the heartbroken Laynella resolutely plunged into the Emerald Dream to slowly heal her emotional wounds.
During the War of the Ancients, Shandris was immersed in her hatred for her parents' killers. Except for her childhood friend Andreas and her mentor Tyrande, she maintained a cold expression toward most people, but Laynella alone never left her side.
During the mission to Pandaria, Laynella became friends with Shandris through her persistent way of getting close. Shandris especially cherished this hard-won friend.
To help Laynella reintegrate into the Night Elf society that had changed drastically after seven thousand years, Shandris took on this responsibility herself.
Watching the two walk out of the house hand in hand, Andreas turned his gaze toward the dryad lady, who looked like she had lost all hope in life.
Leticia hugged Lunara and seemed to have no intention of letting go. Helplessly, Lunara could only let her ride on her deer back.
Seeing Aurora's sparkling, curious eyes, Andreas gave her a playful push from behind.
"Go on. Lunara is easy to get along with. With Leticia there to lighten the mood, you should be able to get familiar with her quickly."
After the three chattering girls left, Andreas looked thoughtfully at the table. On it lay a weapon... or rather, a token, that Laynella and Lunara had brought back from the Dream for him.
It was a moonglaive. Andreas still had an impression of it; back then, Goldrinn had specifically shared power from this moonglaive and sent it into his body as thanks.
With the help of Elune, Goldrinn recovered from his injuries earlier than expected. He was currently staying in the Emerald Dream temporarily to assist the Green Dragons and Druids in curbing the expansion of the Nightmare.
The awakened Goldrinn requested the Moonglaive from Malfurion and entrusted Laynella and Lunara, who were about to leave the Dream, to deliver it to Andreas.
"Sigh~ why look for me..."
Andreas scratched his head in distress. While giving him the moonglaive, Goldrinn had also given Andreas a commission, or rather, a request.
Help him expand the faith of the wolf god among the Druids, making the safe and controllable Wolf Form one of the standard forms for Druids.
Celeste analyzed with a smile, "Perhaps because you were the first person to complete the Wolf Form transformation. Under your guidance over the years, haven't most of the Druids brought from Moonshadow's Rest also mastered the Wolf Form?"
"That's true."
Andreas said gloomily, "But a leader for a branch sect isn't that easy to find. I haven't discovered anyone with a special fondness for the Wolf Form."
Celeste tilted her head and thought for a moment. "Laynella?"
"No, no, no." Andreas shook his head hurriedly. "She is a faithful believer of Ashamane the Panther; she would definitely not agree."
"Then just train one yourself."
Celeste suggested, "Are there any suitable candidates among the younger generation of Druids?"
"How could there be so... wait."
Andreas rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe, perhaps, possibly... there is? Anyway, let's ask for his personal opinion first."
...
At the ruins of Phalanaar in Suramar, Vastann looked with a face full of confusion at the moonglaive Andreas had shoved into his hands.
"Me?"
"That's right, it's you, young man."
Andreas patted Vastann's shoulder solemnly. "I personally watched over your Wolf Form transformation. Weren't you very interested in this fierce feral form at the time?"
"Uh... I did have some interest."
Vastann hadn't yet recovered from the sudden shock when Andreas pressed on, "Then it's settled! From now on, you are Goldrinn's spokesperson and missionary in the physical world."
"Your status is sufficient, and your talent is enough. I believe the faith of the wolf god can flourish in your hands."
Because of Fandral's pampering since childhood, Vastann had a type of pride that came from his very bones. This mindset happened to fit the style of the aloof wolf god, Goldrinn, when choosing candidates.
As the only son of Archdruid Fandral Staghelm, if Vastann really decided to preach within the Cenarion Circle, he would certainly not lack resources.
Once his son-doting father knew he had this intention, he would definitely scurry to pave the way for him in advance.
"Um... okay, I'll try."
Although the expression on Vastann's face was still a bit lacking in confidence, feeling the powerful energy coming from the artifact moonglaive, combined with his own genuine interest in the aloof Goldrinn, he finally steeled his resolve and planned to try spreading the wolf god's faith widely.
After passing off the 'black pot' sent by Goldrinn, Andreas gave Vastann a gratified thumbs-up.
"Good luck, young man. I have high hopes for you."
...
As expected, when Fandral learned that Vastann had accepted the moonglaive and also Goldrinn's request, he immediately teleported to Suramar in a hurry to start planning his son's future development path.
It was quite interesting; the two Druid leaders responsible for taking care of the Arkandor, one civil and one martial, both used scythes as their main weapons. For a moment, a mischievous idea flashed through Andreas' mind to establish a Scythe Cult for them.
However, this idea was just a joke after all. Vastann's and Farodin's scythes were completely different things.
Farodin used a scythe just for the convenience of weeding, while Vastann's moonglaive was an out-and-out artifact-level weapon.
The blade of the moonglaive was forged from Goldrinn's shed fangs. This artifact contained a significant amount of Goldrinn's wolf soul power. Vastann would still need some time to become familiar with it to completely master Goldrinn's wild power.
Just as Andreas' family was busy with their own affairs, Prisim brought back the latest intelligence from the Eastern Kingdoms.
As expected, the Tirisifal Council had completely messed up.
Since its establishment, the Tirisifal Council has secretly hunted demons that infiltrated Azeroth.
The Tirisifal Council's mages felt powerless fighting extraordinary beings like demons as Mortals. After years of research, they devised a clever method.
They would temporarily infuse one member with the combined strength of the council, allowing that individual to gain immense power for a short period, thereby defeating some powerful demons.
However, this method had too many limitations. During the power transfer ritual, council members needed to remain in close proximity; if they moved too far apart, the power would disperse.
When transferring power, the recipient had to constantly endure the oppressive, violent energy that wasn't his own, fighting the enemy while suppressing discomfort and pain. The council members transferring the power also had to risk great danger on the battlefield to continuously channel power to him.
Against ordinary demons, or even powerful but less intelligent ones, this method of concentrating power proved decisive.
But the Tirisifal Council's long-standing power transfer ritual suffered a heavy blow when facing a Dreadlord.
"Karsusnatir?"
Andreas rubbed his chin in confusion. "I haven't heard that name. He shouldn't be a core member of the Nathrezim, right?"
Prisim, wearing a red hood, nodded lightly. "While his strength is decent, he's still a ways off from Varimathras and Tichondrius."
"Karsusnatir inherited the cunning nature of the Dreadlord race. He discovered a huge flaw in the Tirisifal Council's power transfer ritual, bypassing the one receiving the power and specifically attacking the weaker mages in the backline."
Karsusnatir was the strongest enemy the Tirisifal Council had ever faced. The members sent to encircle him were all elites of the council, with Al'dorgan, Lights Power, as the power recipient, being the most outstanding among them.
But this Dreadlord refused to engage Al'dorgan directly. He mysteriously flanked the backline, relentlessly attacking the Tirisifal Council members who were channeling power, significantly weakening the ritual's energy, and thus easily killing the underpowered Al'dorgan.
Had it not been for a rising half-elf talent who desperately held back Karsusnatir's pursuit, the entire council might have been annihilated by then.
"The Tirisifal Council's second offensive did not employ the ritual. Multiple council members fought individually, and Karsusnatir defeated them one by one, resulting in another crushing defeat."
Andreas nodded. That astonishingly brilliant half-elf must have been the first Keeper, Alodi. If all went as expected, the Keeper ritual, which the Tirisifal Council would pass down through generations, would soon officially emerge.
"Additionally, we intercepted some unconfirmed intelligence."
Prisim paused, then continued, "It's rumored that high-ranking officials within Dalaran are colluding with demons. The Tirisifal Council's movements and next plans were almost completely transparent to Karsusnatir."
"Oh?"
Andreas raised an eyebrow. Given the Dreadlord's modus operandi of manipulating hearts and playing mind games, this situation was not entirely unexpected.
Dalaran championed free research, and unbridled freedom would inevitably attract mages coveting demonic power; it was only a matter of time.
"Heh~ Dalaran."
Andreas scoffed, leaning back in his chair. "Freedom doesn't equate to boundless indulgence. Since you can't control your own people from colluding with demons, for the safety of Azeroth, let others help you manage it."
...
Since its establishment, Dalaran had attracted a large number of human mages who were ostracized in various city-states.
Although the Kirin Tor Council of Six began to gradually regulate the mages' behavior after its formation, due to Dalaran's self-proclaimed philosophy of free research, even the Speaker had no right to control the normal research of mages within the city.
Arcane, Nature, Death, Shadow, and even Lights Power, which had only recently become popular in Lordaeron, all had corresponding spells being deeply researched in Dalaran.
Andreas couldn't recall where he had heard a particular saying.
Mages are one of the professions in the world most adept at and fond of courting disaster.
Mages with excessive curiosity often lacked moral boundaries. Many early human mages suffered discrimination in various lordships, and it was not uncommon for their psychology to gradually twist after prolonged periods of suppressed living.
As a member of the Kirin Tor Council of Six, Rudolph Obermann possessed formidable personal strength. Apart from the current Speaker, he was confident that no one else in all of Dalaran was his match.
His research into Arcane hit a bottleneck, so Rudolph began to study other forms of power, attempting to see if a cross-disciplinary approach could help him break through the bottleneck and advance further.
Rudolph was one of the hundred mages initially taught by the High Elves. Having extended his life with Arcane, he was now 200 years old, making him the longest-living mage in Dalaran.
But he was not satisfied with this; there was still too much knowledge to decipher, too many subjects to research. A mere century of human life was simply not enough for him.
For this reason, Rudolph had, several years ago, asked a colleague, also a member of the hundred-mage group, for a method of eternal life.
Yes, eternal life.
As far as Rudolph knew, almost all of his former colleagues had already passed away. Besides him, only one had survived through an alternative form of eternal life.
Meryl Winterwind, the first intelligent undead in the history of Azeroth, the first Lich.
Meryl unfortunately fell in the Troll Wars and, due to the urgency of the conflict, was resurrected as an undead by High Elf mages to rejoin the battle.
After the war, Meryl followed Al'dorgan to Dalaran. After the mages caused the chaos of a demon invasion, he chose to join the Tirisifal Council to secretly protect Azeroth.
As an undead, Meryl was no longer bound by lifespan, which Rudolph greatly envied. He repeatedly used their private channels to ask Meryl for the method of Lich transformation, but always returned empty-handed.
The High Elves, under duress, made an exception to use unstandardized death magic on Meryl at the time. Afterwards, they repeatedly cautioned Meryl never to spread the use of death magic, or it would surely cause a great catastrophe.
The righteous Meryl agreed. He silently kept the secret of the undead, and even when his colleague Rudolph repeatedly asked for it, his attitude remained unchanged.
Seeing his lifespan nearing its end, Rudolph's emotions grew increasingly agitated.
It was at this time that a Dreadlord, who had infiltrated Dalaran to cause havoc, discovered his anxiety. The subsequent developments were quite logical.
Rudolph no longer asked Meryl for the method to become a Lich. Instead, he tried to get close and use their personal friendship to inquire about the demon hunt, expressing his own desire to join and assist.
Meryl repeatedly refused his old colleague's requests, feeling somewhat guilty. Although he didn't agree to his demand to join the Tirisifal Council, he inadvertently revealed some Tirisifal Council intelligence during their regular interactions.
It was these seemingly insignificant pieces of information that led to the death of Al'dorgan, a brilliant talent of the Tirisifal Council, at the hands of the Dreadlord. And this achievement earned Rudolph what he wanted.
"Oh... oh oh oh!"
Rudolph's mage tower was littered with corpses, everywhere were mage apprentices drained into desiccated husks.
Feeling the surging Fel Energy within him and his body renewed with vitality, Rudolph took a deep breath. "Is this Fel Energy? What a wonderful and powerful force! I have gained a second life!"
"Hmph~ A traitor has indeed appeared."
A cold snort came from outside the rooftop of Rudolph's mage tower. A figure radiating purplish-black light eerily floated in mid-air, his black eyes with golden rims staring imperiously at a startled Rudolph.