The Hyjal mountains, the recreated Well of Eternity.
Azeroth had far from calmed down everywhere after the destruction of the focus of its magical and natural forces. One year is a negligible amount of time for recovery after such a cataclysm. However, quiet, peaceful spots were still found on the planet that had not been subjected to the merciless wave of destruction that rolled across the world, or were affected by it with minor consequences.
A small lake that had formed in time immemorial at the summit of Mount Hyjal was exactly one of those places. Concentrated energy, abundantly mixed with the purest water, made the atmosphere on its shores even more pleasant and inviting for all sentient beings familiar with the magical arts firsthand, as well as those who would want to admire the mountain landscapes. Most of the Mana emitted from the blue-sparkling surface rushed upward, only to then dissolve into the surrounding world, but the remaining crumbs of energy steadily saturated the magical background of the lake's surroundings day after day. However, they were crumbs only in comparison to the Source itself, so it was not surprising that already now, just a year after the mixing of water with concentrated Eternity, the mountain peak from afar appeared as a multicolored mist, the swirls of which wove into a braid of The Force, connecting the long-suffering land of Azeroth with the infinite heavens. In any case, such a picture presented itself to those who possessed magical sight: dragons or, for example, one elf whom Sargeras himself had "gifted" with this ability. But for other mages, the sensation of The Force spilled around and the corresponding spells of cognition were quite enough to understand what was happening...
One morning, the natural charm of the lake, which had become the second Well of Eternity, was disturbed. Moreover, the suddenly large number of mountain view enthusiasts could have discouraged anyone keeping statistics on "tourist" visits to this place.
The first, not counting the guards, to appear on the shore was a person looking slightly disheveled, but nevertheless full of elegant grace and unconcealed majesty. No elf could fail to recognize her as the deposed Queen Azshara, who was thought to have perished. Even if he were cross-eyed, deaf, or completely blind. That was why the five hapless guards, stationed by the new rulers of the elven people, shifted from foot to foot nearby, not daring to approach closer, while their sixth comrade summoned the aforementioned superiors.
Thus, little by little, a modest-sized crowd formed by the lake, divided into two camps. And the moods between them were far from Friendly, which was especially noticeable when looking at the leaders of the two hostile groups. Although, if the elves gathered on the sloping shore were not aware of the background, they might well have thought they were present at a family squabble, albeit a non-trivial one. The opposing sides did not hold back in expressive terms while trying to convey their thoughts to the opponent, but they were in no hurry to move from words to action... One bedraggled-looking representative of the ever-living stood out particularly in this field, whose unevenly trimmed short hair looked provocative against the background of the luxurious manes of the other female elves. However, right now no one cared about her innovative hairstyle: the climax of an hour-and-a-half exchange of grievances was approaching.
"…You old goat! Do you think it was thanks to your talentless efforts that the lazy dragon asses united and gave battle to the Burning Legion?! Ha! Not a chance! Your pathetic diplomatic talents evoke nothing but laughter! It was I—albeit through others' mouths—who conducted negotiations with the Aspects and set them upon the demons! It was I who, through Subtlety, lured secret knowledge from Sargeras, risking madness with every contact with him! It was I who staked everything and lured the demons through an open portal to Azeroth, into a prepared trap, and made them dependent on the power of the Source, which I also controlled! If everything had gone according to plan, we would have knocked the support out from under Sargeras, depriving him of puppets without which he would have been left only to bite his elbows, licking his lips from afar at our Azeroth! And we would have gained knowledge of physical and magical laws that would have raised our development to an unimaginable level! That for which our researchers would have needed more than one millennium was coming right into our hands. And if not for the series of your interventions and accidents... for which, I suspect, the Old Gods are responsible, I…"
"How many times did you say the word 'I'?" seeing that the fuming Cenarius was unable to object to the former Queen of the elves, Malfurion Stormrage took the floor. "And if everything is as you say, why didn't you tell us about it?! Pathetic excuses! You submitted to Sargeras, and now you're playing the innocent lamb!"
"What?! In your opinion, all my appeals to the Kaldorei with a call to calm down and not stir up the elves were only to show off on the balcony?! Look me in the eye, Malfurion Stormrage, and tell me I didn't tell you that I had everything under control! If I had been 'subjugated by Sargeras,' I would have opened the portal long ago, you idiots!"
Personally, the Druid had never listened to the queen's proclamations, and therefore was slightly lost under the pressure of arguments, having no way to confirm or deny Azshara's words. After all, now she could say anything just to whitewash herself in the eyes of the night elves... But then Cenarius timely picked up the baton, having managed to slightly curb his emotions:
"And we were supposed to believe empty assurances that everything was fine, watching as hordes of demons kill or capture our kin and destroy everything living around? How the Earth itself groans from their presence?!"
"A small sacrifice for a great goal..." Azshara waved it off, but immediately realized the words sounded like an excuse—something she categorically could not stomach. "Ah, the Earth groans for you mud-diggers, does it? Lost a couple of villages and tucked your beards in fear? And did you even for a moment think what would have happened if instead of one large portal in a place I controlled, thousands of small ones had opened all over Azeroth? And guess thanks to whom that didn't happen?"
"'A couple of villages'? If you hadn't opened anything, all of this could have been avoided! A thousand years, you see, she didn't want to wait, trading time for the lives of tens of thousands of elves and our allies!" the last of the trio added her contribution.
"Pff... We don't have, and cannot have allies, girl!" Azshara spoke so unflatteringly of the furbolgs, ignoring the first part of the sentence about the losses. "And in general—you must follow my will, not contest every word and demand proof! I am the Queen of the Night Elves—Azshara! I, by definition, know better who should do what and when, or not do it! It is not for you—animal lovers—to give advice to one who, by right of birth, knowledge, and power, is vested with authority over the elves! Digging in the dirt? Then you should have continued tending to your flowers instead of meddling in spheres you understand nothing about!"
"I haven't noticed any particular 'improvements' during your reign. Everything was the same as under your father... auntie. Except for your obsessive fascination with magic!"
Azshara, with truly royal disdain, ignored the retaliatory jab regarding her age.
"And when was the last time you were in the capital? Maybe I should remind you why it was called 'The Radiant'?! And what in your backwoods is supposed to change anyway? Teach you to dig not from right-to-left, but from left-to-right?"
"Enough! We've had enough of your empty eloquence! Answer, why have you come here?" the old demigod finally managed to pull himself together.
"And you won't even ask where I've been and what I've been doing? Maybe you want me to tell you something else?" mocking, the eternally young girl inquired, and released the emotions seething within her, showing a well-controlled but very clear desire to kill the idiots. After which her pretty face distorted in a fierce grimace, and a bright reflection was born inside the huge opal crowning the elven woman's diadem. The sentient beings felt the pressure emanating from the queen. "Don't forget yourself, little god! Your beard hasn't grown long enough to demand an answer from me!"
"We will not allow history to repeat itself," with these words Malfurion Stormrage, clutching his staff tighter, stepped forward, announcing that he was ready to move the failed negotiations into the final stage.
The support groups of both sides, consisting of a couple of dozen male and female elves of varying degrees of danger, tensed up. But Azshara was not interested in this conflict, although, it would seem, she had every valid reason for it. However, now that the plan to weaken Sargeras had fallen into The Barrens along with the capital, and new enemies had additionally appeared on the horizon, losing the remaining elven resources and personal strength in internal strife was, in her view, impractical. She was, after all, a queen not just for show, and who if not figures vested with power should know how to separate personal grievances from high ideals.
"Then don't allow it... here! And we are leaving..." steel notes appeared in the ancient elf's voice: having shed the stress, she had noticeably calmed down and regained her royal majesty, which had been somewhat lost during the hour-and-a-half bickering.
"Where?" burst out from the crowd huddled behind the backs of the trio of Kaldorei leaders.
Naturally, Azshara ignored the shout of the "rabble" and, half-turning to her associates, ordered:
"Dath'Remar, prepare the ships."
The Highborne's face did not flinch, however, among kin it is difficult to hide emotions, especially strong ones. And so now everyone present guessed that Dath'Remar was just as surprised by the order as the rest.
"My queen?.."
"Gather everyone who has remained loyal to me. We will go east."
"But what about The Well?.." the unspoken thought hung in the air: the further they sailed, the stronger the "magic thirst" effect would become.
"Everyone who has remained loyal to me," she repeated, but immediately added: "And not just in words. Let them prove their devotion in deed and follow me into the unknown. I only need their faith in their Queen, and I will provide them with the rest... or I am not Queen Azshara!"
The elven ruler had come up with the decision—which would have taken Dath'Remar himself about three thousand years to make—during the day she had spent putting herself in relative order, gathering her supporters, and reaching the lake.
"And you think you can just come here as if nothing happened, take the essence," Cenarius jerked his head, nodding toward the vials in her hands in which the energy of the new Source splashed, "tell a pack of lies, and just leave? History must not repeat itself," he slightly rephrased his student's words.
"Well, take the risk," the girl turned back to the demigod, and a sinister smile graced her refined face. "Now that I don't need to hold the portal, let's see what you're worth without the Aspects behind your back..."
Suddenly, The Well behind her back rebelled. The streams of mana emanating from it had until this moment been rushing into the celestial heights in chaotic mixing, but now for the most part they merged into a single compressed braid, its end fixed upon Azshara. The Queen had managed to subjugate the creation of her former subject. However, what was there to be surprised about: hundreds, thousands of years of studying the Well of Eternity could not fail to bring results. In this case, a positive one.
The Kaldorei, along with their leaders, involuntarily backed away. If at first the forces of the opposing sides seemed roughly equal, with a slight numerical advantage for the night elves, now the layout came out with a noticeable advantage in favor of their high kin, even without taking into account such an uncertain variable as Azshara herself.
"Now, begone."
It's hard to say what stung Cenarius more: the disdain in the voice of the queen, who had regained control over her emotions, or the necessity to submit to her. But despite the fact that power was not on their side, the teacher and his students remained in the clearing, only moving back a couple of steps, yielding to the pressure of the invisible might of the adept of Arcane and demon magic.
"And we are supposed to believe that you will just let us go?"
The irony of the situation was that just a couple of minutes ago, the side that had no intention of letting its opponents go was precisely the trio of the moon goddess's main followers.
"And why should that be any concern of mine?" she slightly arched her right eyebrow, expressing restrained bewilderment at the mere suggestion of such a fact.
A pause ensued. And the longer it lasted, the more the tension hanging in the air thickened.
"Where is Illidan Stormrage?" suddenly a "slightly" inappropriate question for this situation followed from Tyrande Whisperwind.
Azshara thought for a moment whether she should answer, but found no compelling arguments against it.
"The traitor died saving his Queen. However, since that's the case, I can forgive him one betrayal... But not the destroyed Source and not this crooked craft!" she glanced contemptuously at the lakeshore. "You can write that on the empty grave of that failure."
A creak was heard from the priestess of the moon goddess, and it wasn't a wrathful grinding of teeth, but the sound of a bowstring being drawn. But no matter how fast Tyrande Whisperwind was, her fiancé proved faster. Only their goals turned out to be different. Under the loud rustle of a suddenly beginning leaf-fall, the shore was hidden behind a green avalanche.
Azshara did not lose her composure either because of the autumnal madness that descended on the mountain valley, or because of the arrow that rang sharply against the purple dome of protection surrounding her entire group. And she was certainly not upset by the flight of the opposition, revealed when the riot of nature subsided, "as if" by magic.
"Dath'Remar, prepare the ships," she repeated in an even voice, mentally solving entirely different tasks now.
The elves around her immediately came back to life, and a lively bustle arose: someone went to scout the situation, someone—to build portals. The Source, having gained freedom, again directed its "thoughts" to the morning sky.
"My queen," Dath'Remar, who had taken the place of her assistant with Azshara's silent consent, had the right to ask questions and even sometimes receive answers to them. "Wouldn't it have been better to deal with them now? While they were in your power. It will take time to find or build ships, and they will surely try to interfere, if not themselves, then with the help of dragons..."
"The world is still unstable and barely holding on the brink, so the Aspects have no time for us right now," Azshara waved off the threat. "Do you think I didn't want to break the horns of a little god who has imagined himself to be something? But right now is not the time when one can throw away resources, even such... worthless ones. They and this parody of a Source will serve as a diversionary maneuver. I'm sure they'll be excellent at it. Oh, by the way, charge someone to collect the essence of Moonwells. From any they can, but the more and more diverse, the better... Ideally, all space in the holds not occupied by supplies and elves should be packed with essence."
"Yes, my Queen."
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