Warcraft: Darnassus

Year 25, Day 7

The first thing I noticed about Tyrande Whisperwind, high priestess of Elune and leader of the Night Elves, was her height. I’d already grown rather used to being surrounded by women who were taller than me. Glynda in her heels was several inches taller than I was, and both Ysondre and the Night Elves I’d been surrounded by for the past day and a half were even taller still. Tyrande towered over all of them, with at least two feet on me, if not more.

Despite that fact, she still managed to look both absolutely stunning and very feminine. Her skin was a gorgeous shade of lavender and her eyes shone like small blue stars. She wore white in a style reminiscent of the other priestesses I’d seen, but looking closer it was clear that it was no mere dress. Subtle bits of armor were woven into the shimmering fabric and it was so heavily enchanted that I had a feeling the hewn stone blocks of the temple would give way before the flimsy-looking cloth.

For all her height, there was no world in which I would have described the high priestess as lanky. She was well built, cutouts in her dress revealing lean muscle and curves that would make many a witch very jealous. She also absolutely shone with magic, rivers of silvery-white power flowing through her entire body. In terms of magical potency, she was in no way inferior to Ysondre herself, and was perhaps even stronger. My spells were simply not calibrated to tell when it came to different forms of magic of such magnitude.

After Ysondre’s little ‘demonstration’, we had been swiftly allowed into the temple while another priestess was sent to check in with Tyrande. The inside of the temple’s central building wasn’t quite what I had been expecting. For one, it was far more open than I would have thought. There were several floors within the building connected by huge ramps running along the walls, but a shaft was left in the center of the room granting a clear view of the glass tome and the night sky. That was probably the intention, actually. A direct sightline from their moon goddess to look down upon her faithful.

Secondly, it was a lot greener than I would have thought. I was expecting a stark white interior, perhaps with some fountains and statues for decoration. There certainly were both fountains and statues. In fact, the first floor was dominated by a huge statue of a night elf woman holding up a basen from which water flowed down into the enormous moonwell at the statue’s feet. However, the temple was filled with all manner of plants. Grass and flowers covered the ground, some sort of reeds rose from the edges of the moonwell, and there were entire trees growing around the statue.

It was rather beautiful, all things considered, but also alien. It was a stark reminder that this was not my home plane and these Night Elves were part of a culture that had grown without any relations to my own. No wizarding nation would build a place such as this. Perhaps some might have a decorative tree growing in a large pot within a great hall, or flowers blooming on a windowsill, but nothing quite like this.

We waited for a time in the temple’s entryway, arousing a number of curious looks from priestesses, sisters, and non-clergy worshipers alike. The presence of a senior priestess who had introduced herself as Priestess Lasara forstalled any questions, and she was also happy to keep us entertained with stories about her goddess and information about Elune’s faithful.

That was how I found out that I’d been wrong in calling the two night elves we’d spoken to outside the temple priestesses. They were both ‘Sisters of Elune’, but they were not yet considered to be priestesses like Lasara was. They’d both been serving at the temple for a mere ‘few decades’ and it would take longer than that to become accepted into the elite ranks of organization. Probably a lot longer now, after their embarrassing gaffe today.

The Sisterhood of Elune was a truly ancient faith. It had been established a full fifteen-thousand years ago, and the organization had records––and a handful of members––reaching back all the way to the very beginning. Compared to Ysondre, that was young, but she was an unreasonable metric with which to measure things. The Night Elves had been worshiping Elune for three times longer than wizarding civilization had existed on my plane.

That was an astoundingly large time. The amount of history that this plane had experienced never ceased to amaze me. Especially since, with so many long-lived races around, they actually had relatively complete records going back that far. Certainly not all records had survived, and I had no doubts that entire cultures had likely been lost to history, but that was far more than the scraps we possessed of what life had been like in the days of Sumer and Ancient Egypt. If you really wanted to know what life had been like millennia ago, you didn’t have to piece together ancient clues. You just needed to find the right people and ask.

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Eventually Tyrande concluded whatever business she’d been dealing with, and Lasara led the way up the winding ramps until we reached the highest level of the temple just below the roof. One of Azeroth’s two moons––and that would have been much more of a shock if I hadn’t already witnessed the ruined remains of Remnant’s single moon––shone high above us, and countless stars twinkled like diamonds, illuminating the world tree in a pale, silvery light.

Following Ysondre’s lead, I briefly inclined my head as we approached the High Priestess, then silently allowed our guide to do the initial talking.

Tyrande took a single, graceful step forward, the double-slitted skirt she wore fluttering around her legs. “Ysondre, I am glad to see you again, old friend. I hope that perhaps today you are in less of a hurry than before? It has been far too long since we have spoken at length.” Her voice was soft and smooth, and her diction excellent. Though it was somewhat hard to tell with the natural translation magic of my spark, I was pretty sure she was speaking a different language than the one the other elves had been using. I wasn’t sure if it was some human language to include the rest of us, or perhaps some half-forgotten elven dialect known only to the true ancients of this world.

Ysondre responded in what I was pretty sure was just regular elvish. “And you, little Tyrande.” Ysondre grinned toothily, looking up at Tyrande, “Though you are not so little any more, are you. It is rare that I must look up at those with whom I speak. You, my mother, and a mere handful of others. It gladdens me to see you alive and well after all the trials your people have faced. Truly, Dejahna chose her successor well.”

“The burden is heavy, but I do the best I can each day. My goddess and my people deserve no less.”

“Strong words.” Ysondre sighed heavily. “And yet I fear it shall only grow heavier in the days to come. I fear you will be seeing a lot more of me soon than in past milenia.”

Tyrande closed her eyes. “Goddess preserve us. It is rare for your flight to concern itself with the world outside the dream.”

“Indeed. But the Dream and Azeroth are connected. The woes of one may very well affect the other. I fear we shall require your people’s aid before the job is done.”

“We are not as mighty as we once were,” Tyrande warned. “We have lost the blessings of Nordrassil, have lost many of our people, and have been driven back from lands we have laid claim to since before the sundering. Never before have the Kaldorei been reduced to such an extent.”

“You will recover in time. For now, it will have to be enough.”

Both women fell silent for a long moment. Tyrande stared blankly past Ysondre, her mind far away. Ysondre had her back to me, but I imagined she was thinking as well. Eventually, our guide broke the silence. She sighed heavily, “But I digress. Such heavy tidings can wait until later in the night. I expect to spend much of the day in Darnassus, and shall return not long after my departure. We can discuss the coming threats over spiced wine and moonglow, and you can tell me of what I have missed while I labored within the Dream. It has been far too long since I have tasted a proper beverage.”

“Of course, Ysondre. I would be honored to host you within my home. I believe some amount of your favorite vintages have survived to this day. I shall have a priestess retrieve them from storage.”

“Excellent,” Ysondre hissed, briefly changing to the draconic tongue before going back to the same language as before. “I look forward to sampling your hospitality. First though, I would like to introduce my companions.” She took a step to the side and gestured towards me and Kent, who were standing together near the front of the group. “This is Hydrys Black and his retainer, Kent Nelson. They have done a great service to my flight, not only saving my own life, but allowing us to identify the source of the threat.”

Then she turned to me. “Hydrys, allow me to introduce my longtime friend Tyrande Whisperwind. She is perhaps the greatest wielder of priestly magics Azeroth has ever known, and I have already discussed your request with her. She simply wished to take your measure first before she agreed to anything.”

I took a step forward and bowed my head. “It is an honor to meet you, High Priestess.”

Tyrande smiled serenely. “And I am gladdened to look upon the saviors of such an old and dear friend. Ysondre’s loss would have been felt keenly all across Azeroth. Let us all retire to somewhere more comfortable where we can speak further of your request and I can show you a welcome befitting a friend of the Kaldorei. I see no reason not to assist you in such a manner, but I would wish to hear more on what you ask of me. After that, I hope you will take the time to partake in the wonders of Darnassus. My people have worked tirelessly to build this place, and we have already accomplished much.”

“I would be honored, High Priestess.”

“Any friend of Ysondre is welcome to call me Tyrande.”