Night had settled fully over Windrunner Village. The golden glow of Eversong still lingered, but beneath it, tension coiled like a drawn bowstring. Torches burned brighter than usual. Patrols moved in tighter formations. Even the wind seemed quieter—as if the forest itself were listening.
Within Windrunner Manor, one chamber remained sealed.Leylin's study. They arrived one by one.
First came Vereesa Windrunner, her expression composed but alert. Then Sylvanas Windrunner entered, her presence immediately sharpening the atmosphere. Close behind her was Lirath Windrunner, quieter, younger—but no less aware of the gravity surrounding them.
Aminel and Tyr'ganal arrived together, their earlier urgency now replaced with focused anticipation.
Last to enter was Jaina Proudmoore. Her presence alone carried weight, an outsider, yet one who had already seen the fall of Lordaeron with her own eyes.
When the doors closed, Leylin moved. A subtle gesture. And the room was sealed. Arcane wards flared softly along the walls, soundproof, concealed, absolute.
Leylin turned to face them.
"What I'm about to tell you," he said, his voice low, "must not leave this room."
No hesitation. No questions. Each of them nodded. Even Sylvanas. Leylin exhaled once. Then spoke.
"We need to secure large amounts of water… from the Sunwell."
The reaction was immediate.
Aminel stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. "From the Sunwell? That's not just restricted—it's sacred."
Tyr'ganal frowned deeply. "You're not suggesting we siphon it without the council's approval."
"I am," Leylin said plainly.
Silence crashed into the room. Heavy. Sharp.
"Why?" Aminel demanded. "What possible reason justifies that risk?"
Tyr'ganal's voice followed, lower but no less intense. "You're asking us to steal from the heart of Quel'Thalas itself."
Leylin did not flinch.
"Because we cannot stop the Scourge."
The words settled like a blade drawn across stone. Sylvanas's gaze hardened—but she did not interrupt. Vereesa's expression tightened slightly. Jaina, however, stepped forward.
"You've said that before," Jaina Proudmoore said, her tone measured but firm. "But you haven't explained why."
Her eyes locked onto his.
"Is it because of Arthas Menethil… or something else?"
For a moment, the room stilled. Leylin regarded her carefully. Then—He asked a question of his own.
"I can hold Arthas back," Leylin said.
His voice was calm. Certain.
"But can all of you handle the rest?"
No one answered. Not immediately.
Leylin stepped forward, his gaze sweeping across them.
"The undead do not tire," he continued. "They do not hesitate. They do not break formation, and they do not fear death because death is not a loss to them."
His tone sharpened slightly.
"It is reinforcement."
Tyr'ganal's jaw tightened. Aminel's expression darkened.
"You will cast," Leylin went on, looking at Aminel. "You will channel. You will push your limits."
Then his gaze shifted to Sylvanas and Vereesa.
"You will fight. You will strike, retreat, reposition."
Then it shifted to Tyr'ganal.
"You will hold the line."
Finally, his eyes returned to Jaina.
"And you will lead."
A pause. Then, Leylin's voice dropped.
"And when your mana runs dry… what will you do?"
Silence. Deep. Unavoidable.
"When your arms grow heavy," he continued, "when your breathing falters, when your focus slips even for a second…"
His gaze hardened.
"What then?"
No one answered. Because they knew.
"If you are forced into close combat," Leylin said, "your chances of survival drop exponentially. One mistake. One delay. One moment too slow…"
He didn't finish. He didn't need to.
"Every living being tires," he said quietly. "Every one of us has a limit."
A beat.
"The Scourge does not."
The truth settled over them. Cold. Unyielding.
Jaina was the first to break the silence. Her voice was softer now—but no less resolute.
"Then the water…" she said slowly. "You're not gathering it for defense."
Leylin nodded once.
"No."
Aminel's eyes widened slightly. "Then… what is it for?"
Leylin turned toward the window. Beyond it, far in the distance, the faint glow of the Sunwell shimmered—eternal, radiant, untouched. For now.
"It's insurance," he said.
Sylvanas stepped closer, her voice low. "Explain."
Leylin's expression did not change. But something in his tone did. Something colder. More final.
"If Quel'Thalas falls," he said, "the Sunwell becomes their greatest weapon."
The implication struck instantly. Jaina's breath caught slightly.
"They could use it…" she whispered.
"To empower the Scourge," Leylin finished. "To create something far worse than what we've already seen."
Aminel took a step back. "So you're planning to—"
"Deny them that," Leylin said.
The room went still.
Tyr'ganal exhaled slowly. "So the water is a contingency."
"Yes."
Sylvanas's gaze sharpened, understanding dawning. "A way to preserve its power… without leaving it intact."
Leylin nodded.
Vereesa spoke next, her voice steady despite the weight of it all.
"And if it comes to that?"
Leylin turned back to them. His answer came without hesitation.
"Then we ensure the Scourge gains nothing from this land."
Silence followed. But this time… It was different. Not a shock. Not a doubt. But acceptance.
Jaina closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again.
"When do we start?" she asked.
Leylin's answer was immediate.
"Now."
Outside, the Sunwell continued to shine. Unchanged. Unaware. But within the shadows of Windrunner Manor…
A decision had been made. Not to win the coming war. But to deny the enemy everything. Even if it meant sacrificing the very heart of their world.
The silence inside Leylin's study did not break all at once. It loosened slowly, like a held breath finally released, not in relief, but in acceptance.
Decisions had been made. Not the kind that earned glory. But the kind that determined who would still be alive when the dust settled.
Leylin stepped back from the window, the distant glow of the Sunwell fading behind him as he turned to face them once more.
"There's no more time for hesitation," he said.
No one argued. No one needed convincing anymore. His gaze settled first on Tyr'ganal and Aminel.
"You two will handle the Sunwell operation."
Aminel straightened immediately, her earlier doubts now sharpened into focus. "Understood."
Tyr'ganal, however, did not respond right away. His arms remained crossed, his brow slightly furrowed.
"…You're asking us to walk into the most guarded place in Quel'Thalas," he said slowly. "And take something that isn't meant to be taken."
Leylin met his gaze evenly.
"Yes."
A brief pause. Then Tyr'ganal exhaled through his nose, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"…You always did have a talent for impossible plans."
Aminel glanced at him. "You're not refusing?"
Tyr'ganal shook his head once.
"No."
His expression hardened slightly.
"I just want to survive it."
Leylin gave a faint nod.
"You will."
Before either of them could ask further, another voice cut in. Cool. Sharp. Certain.
"I'll make sure of it."
All eyes turned to Sylvanas Windrunner. She stepped forward, her presence commanding as ever.
"The Sunwell is under constant watch," she said. "But there are always inspections. Rotations. Security reviews."
Her lips curved slightly, not in humor, but in precision.
"I'll give you a reason to be there."
Aminel tilted her head. "A cover story?"
Sylvanas nodded.
"Routine reinforcement of arcane defenses. Increased patrol coordination. Anything that justifies your presence without raising suspicion."
Tyr'ganal let out a low chuckle. "So we're not just stealing from the Sunwell…"
He glanced at Sylvanas.
"We're doing it with official approval."
Sylvanas's gaze didn't waver.
"You're doing it under my authority."
That was enough. No further questions followed.
Leylin let the moment settle before continuing.
"Discretion is critical," he said. "No large movements. No unnecessary attention. Take only what we can conceal and transport quickly."
Aminel nodded. "We'll use compartmentalized storage arrays. Minimal arcane signature."
Tyr'ganal added, "And staggered retrievals. Less risk of detection."
Leylin's approval was silent—but clear. He turned next.
"To Lirath Windrunner."
Lirath, who had remained quiet until now, straightened instinctively.
"Yes?"
"You'll lead the evacuation."
The words seemed to catch him off guard not because of their meaning, but because of their weight.
"Me?" he asked.
Leylin nodded.
"You know the terrain. You know the people. And more importantly…"
He paused.
"You still believe they can be saved."
Lirath's expression shifted, uncertainty giving way to something firmer. Resolve.
"I won't fail," he said.
"You don't need to succeed," Leylin replied calmly.
Lirath blinked.
"You just need to keep them moving."
The distinction lingered.And then—Lirath nodded again. This time without hesitation.
Leylin's gaze shifted once more.
"To Vereesa Windrunner… and Jaina Proudmoore."
Vereesa crossed her arms slightly. "Sensors and patrols."
It wasn't a question.
Leylin inclined his head. "Yes."
Jaina stepped forward slightly. "Do you want continuous monitoring?"
"Not just monitoring," Leylin said. "Analysis."
He gestured faintly, as if tracing invisible lines through the air.
"The runes will detect movement. Spread patterns. Density shifts. But raw data isn't enough."
His gaze met hers.
"I need interpretation."
Jaina's expression sharpened immediately.
"You want predictive modeling."
"Yes."
A faint spark lit in her eyes.
"Then I'll need constant updates. Every node. Every fluctuation."
"You'll have them," Leylin said.
Vereesa added quietly, "And the patrols will confirm what the runes can't."
Her voice carried quiet certainty.
"No blind spots."
Leylin nodded.
"That's the goal."
For a moment, the room fell silent again. But this time, it wasn't heavy. It was focused. Each of them now carried a piece of what came next.
Tyr'ganal pushed himself off the wall, rolling his shoulders slightly.
"When do we move?" he asked.
Leylin's answer came without delay.
"Immediately."
Aminel gave a short nod. "We'll prepare the arrays."
Sylvanas turned toward the door. "I'll handle the clearance."
Lirath exhaled once, steadying himself. "I'll gather the evacuation teams."
Vereesa and Jaina exchanged a glance, then moved as one. And just like that—The meeting ended.
Leylin remained behind. Alone. For a brief moment, he allowed himself stillness. Not resting. No doubt. Just… stillness.
Then he turned once more toward the distant glow of the Sunwell. Beautiful. Unchanging.
"…Not for long," he murmured.
Outside, Windrunner Village moved with purpose. Orders spread. Plans unfolded. Lives shifted. And far beyond the golden forests, beyond hope, beyond reason—
The Scourge continued its march. Closer. With every passing moment.