Stormwind Wizard God-Chapter 824 - 3

Azshara, the towering Queen, now humbled herself before Duke. After kneeling, her noble head bowed, she was merely a lesser being in his presence. A pair of exquisitely soft hands reached out, carefully taking Duke’s, as if cradling a sacred, forbidden artifact. Queen Azshara slowly drew her impossibly beautiful face closer to Duke’s fingers, her lips, a vibrant purple, parting slightly.

Those lips, which had haunted the dreams of countless high elves, gently, lingeringly, kissed the ring upon Duke’s hand.

"Ahhh—" A soft, drawn-out moan escaped her, a sound that could easily conjure thoughts of forbidden pleasures. With eyes glazed over, a flush rising on her face, and that utterly devastating final tone, almost every night elf present couldn’t help but steal a furtive glance, only to witness Azshara lost in a private ecstasy.

"Oh—this power! This intoxicating sweetness!"

High-purity, low-concentration fel energy surged from the ring, flowing over her lips and down her throat. A searing warmth erupted from her stomach, spreading like wildfire through every vein, every drop of blood, consuming every cell. Azshara felt her very being erupt in a chorus of cheers, an ecstatic, primal joy at the infusion of this new, divine power. Queen Azshara now knew, with absolute certainty, that this was indeed the power of God, the most perfect gift bestowed upon the high elves.

Though her heart yearned for more, for an endless torrent of fel energy, Queen Azshara was a woman of chilling pragmatism. She took a subtle step back, then knelt once more before Duke in utter submission.

"I, Azshara, have felt the power of God! My Lord’s messenger, Lord Dooku! Please, speak forth God’s will—"

The Queen lay prostrate before him, her magnificent silver hair fanned across her bare shoulders, her opulent gown splayed across the ground, making her resemble a violet in full, exquisite bloom. Had the Queen’s aesthetic not deviated so wildly from human standards, it would have been a scene of profound, unsettling eroticism...

But for Duke, devoid of such preferences, it was simply business.

Duke calmly withdrew his hand, his voice resonating with chilling authority: "My Lord Sargeras’s will is for you to offer the Well of Eternity as the ultimate qualification for advancement. As recompense, you shall be granted immense fel power and true immortality! As the first step, I demand you swiftly construct a colossal portal, vast enough for my Lord and the Burning Legion to pass through. Do you have any objections?"

Azshara’s brow furrowed, a flicker of apprehension crossing her perfect features. "The high elves, my Lord, harbor no objections. But among the night elves, a formidable faction rejects the arcane. They cling to the moon goddess Elune and the ways of nature. I fear they will vehemently oppose my Lord’s arrival..."

Duke sneered, a cold, cutting sound. "Then why not devise a means to ensure our portal construction remains undisturbed by internal interference? This will simplify your future endeavors immensely."

Xavius, still kneeling beside her, raised his head, his lips parting as if to explain the insurmountable challenge of unifying the night elves’ fractured factions. But the words died in his throat. If it were so easily done, it would have been accomplished long ago.

Azshara initially faltered, confused by Duke’s veiled words, until he added, with chilling clarity:

"I mean, to permanently eliminate interference from within..."

This time, both Azshara and Xavius understood. Their faces drained of all color. Duke was implying that if negotiation and political maneuvering failed, then war was the only answer.

"Azshara, you are a queen." Duke’s voice was flat, devoid of emotion, as if he were merely evaluating a stranger. His deep black eyes pierced her golden ones, his gaze hardening with each syllable: "But if a queen cannot even control her own subjects, then she is unworthy of the crown upon her head. I trust you comprehend my meaning. My Lord certainly hopes that there has been, and will be, only... one Azshara." 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

Duke’s words were artfully cruel, cutting deep.

The Queen and Xavius departed in a state of profound dismay. The events of this night had shaken them to their core. They had glimpsed the path to unimaginable power, yet they were simultaneously cornered, forced into an impossible choice: either turn their blades against the defiant nature-aligned elves, or incur the wrath of the ’God’ they so admired, a being of terrifying, boundless might. The most agonizing detail was Duke’s ultimatum: only three days to deliberate. Their ’God,’ it seemed, possessed no patience.

Almost the instant the night elves vanished, Grom turned to Duke, a pained grimace twisting his features.

Duke met his gaze, his voice laced with feigned innocence. "Why the look? Have you forgotten what I told you about the original course of this history?"

Yes, Duke had indeed briefed Grom on this history. And Grom knew that Queen Azshara’s alliance with Sargeras was the very catalyst for the infamous War of the Ancients. Even knowing this, the thought still gnawed at him!

Grom felt a crushing depression as he considered Duke’s cold, calculated persuasion to massacre his own people, and the terrifying possibility of its success. What if Duke employed similar tactics against the Horde in the future? Could the Horde possibly withstand Duke’s insidious schemes? It seemed, after Archimonde’s curse and the fel energy baptism, Duke’s intentions had grown far more sinister!

Grom hesitated, but finally, unable to bear the torment, he asked: "Aren’t you afraid that Queen Azshara will suddenly act, truly wiping out the natural night elves who were originally on the victorious side? Or, when the Queen makes her move, will you secretly warn the natural night elves?"

Duke proudly wagged his right index finger, then handed Grom a list written in Kaldorei. "This is a roster of Moon Guards provided by Xavius. According to him, these are all powerful warriors utterly loyal to the Queen. If I’m willing to use fel energy to strengthen them, he requests I prioritize these elves."

Grom’s teeth ached. "I don’t speak Elven."

"No! I merely wanted to tell you that I spotted an interesting name on this list." Duke pointed to a specific entry. "The name is Illidan Stormrage!"

"Illidan..." Grom’s initial reaction was blank; he wasn’t a true time traveler, after all. But then, the Battle of Mount Hyjal had only recently concluded, and even if Grom didn’t care for the night elves, he at least remembered who had fought alongside him.

Grom’s heart seized. A sudden, chilling realization dawned upon him.

Duke smiled, an innocent, foxy grin. "Yes! Illidan’s brother is named Malfurion. And at this point in time, the woman both brothers are madly pursuing is Tyrande Whisperwind."