The night deepened over Windrunner Manor, but sleep did not come. Not for Leylin. The halls had grown quieter now. The urgency had not lessened but it had settled into rhythm.
Orders were being carried out. Preparations were underway. Each piece moving as it must. And yet, one piece remained uncertain. One that lay far beyond the reach of Quel'Thalas.
Leylin stood within a secluded chamber beneath the manor, far below the main halls where even the faintest disturbances could not reach. The walls were lined with intricate runic arrays, older than his recent work, more complex, more… dangerous.
A communication circle. Not meant for simple distances. But for worlds apart. At its center lay a small object. A necklace.
Delicate in appearance, yet pulsing faintly with restrained power. Its gemstone shimmered with a soft, shifting light, responding not to the ambient magic of Eversong, but to something far more distant. Far more unstable.
"Draenor…" Leylin murmured.
A shattered world. A place where time, space, and magic no longer followed the same rules. And somewhere within it, she remained.
Leylin knelt, placing his hand just above the necklace. Slowly, deliberately, he began to channel. The runes along the chamber walls flared to life. One by one. Layer by layer. Until the air itself seemed to hum with tension.
The connection did not come easily. It resisted. Stretched. Twisted. But Leylin held firm. His focus did not waver.
"Answer…" he said quietly.
For a moment, nothing. Then the gemstone pulsed. Once. Twice. And the world shifted.
The chamber darkened, the light of Eversong fading as another presence began to bleed through the connection. The air grew heavier, tinged with something harsher, more chaotic. A different sky. A different land.
And then, a figure appeared. Faint at first, like a reflection in disturbed water. Then clearer. Stronger. Alleria Windrunner.
She stood tall, her armor worn but unbroken, her gaze sharp even across the impossible distance. Behind her, the faint outline of a foreign landscape flickered, jagged terrain, unfamiliar skies, the distant signs of a world at war.
"Leylin," she said, her voice carrying through the unstable link. No surprise. Only recognition.
"It seems like you're doing fine," she added.
Leylin allowed the faintest breath of relief.
"Barely," he replied.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"That's not something you say lightly."
Leylin did not waste time.
"There's no time," he said. "Quel'Thalas is about to be invaded."
The words landed heavily. Even across worlds.
Alleria's expression sharpened instantly. "By whom?"
"The Scourge."
Silence. Brief. But charged.
"The Scourge?" Alleria said slowly. "Whispers from the remnants of the Alliance forces here are only talking about the Horde, and now a new one has emerged? "
Her gaze hardened.
"And based on the way you're telling me it's worse than that."
Leylin nodded.
"Lordaeron has already fallen."
The air between them seemed to still. Even the unstable magic of the connection faltered slightly.
Alleria exhaled slowly, her composure holding but just barely.
"…And Silvermoon?"
"Next."
No hesitation. No illusion. Only the truth. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Not because there was nothing to say, but because both understood exactly what it meant.
Alleria's grip tightened slightly at her side.
"My people…" she murmured.
Leylin stepped closer to the circle.
"That's why I'm contacting you."
Her gaze snapped back to him. "Tell me."
Leylin gestured toward the necklace.
"If the time comes… this will activate." The gemstone pulsed faintly in response. "It will point you to a location."
Alleria frowned slightly. "A location where?"
Leylin's voice lowered. "A safe zone."
Her eyes sharpened. "You've already planned for this."
"I've planned for survival," Leylin corrected.
A brief pause.Then, Alleria nodded.
"What do you need me to do?"
Leylin's gaze remained steady.
"When the necklace activates, follow it. Establish a camp at the location it leads to." He paused briefly. "Bring your rangers. And any of the Sons of Lothar who are still able to fight."
Alleria's expression shifted, slowly realizing what it means. "You're creating a fallback point."
"Yes."
"Across worlds," she added.
Leylin did not deny it.
The weight of that realization settled between them. This was no longer about holding ground. Or winning battles. This was about what came after.
Alleria straightened, her resolve solidifying. "It will be done," she said.
For a moment, the tension between them eased—just slightly. Then Alleria's gaze softened, if only by a fraction.
"Be careful, Leylin."
The words were simple. But carried more than warning.
Leylin gave a faint nod. "You too."
The connection flickered. Unstable. Fading.
"Hold as long as you can," Alleria added quickly. "We'll be ready."
"And if we can't?" Leylin asked.
Alleria's answer came without hesitation.
"Then we will keep on waiting for you."
The connection shattered. The light vanished. And the chamber fell silent once more. Leylin remained kneeling for a moment longer. His hand was still hovering where the necklace had been.
Then slowly, he rose. Above him, the world continued to move. Preparations. Movements. Decisions.
But now, another path has been secured. Not in Quel'Thalas. Not in Azeroth. But beyond. And as the winds of Eversong shifted ever so slightly, Leylin stepped forward once more.
The storm was coming. And this time—They would not face it unprepared. There were plans…And then there were contingencies for when those plans failed. Leylin had always believed the latter mattered more.
Beneath Windrunner Manor, deeper than even the chamber he had used to contact Alleria Windrunner, there existed another space. One no one else knew about.
Not Vereesa Windrunner. Not Sylvanas Windrunner. Not even Jaina Proudmoore. Because some truths were too dangerous to share. Even among allies.
The chamber was vast. Circular. Ancient stone reinforced with layers upon layers of Leylin's own inscriptions. Unlike the elegant runes scattered across Eversong, these were raw, functional, dense with power, overlapping in ways that would make even seasoned magisters uneasy.
At the center—A gate. It was not active. Not yet. But it existed. A stable, perfected gateway. Not bound by traditional ley anchors. Not dependent on the fragile pathways of Azeroth's arcane network. But anchored to him, which in turns making him a living spatial key for this gateway.
It connected to something far more distant. Far more unstable. Draenor.
Leylin stood before it in silence. His hand hovered inches from the inactive frame, where faint traces of dormant energy pulsed like a sleeping heartbeat. Months of work. Years of theory. Endless refinement. All culminating in this.
A final escape. A last bastion.
"If everything fails…" he murmured.
The words did not need finishing. This was not meant for armies. Not for mass evacuation. Not even for strategy. This was survival. At its most absolute. And that was precisely why no one else could know.
"If they knew," Leylin said quietly, "they might hesitate."
Or worse, they might rely on it. And that… would doom them. So he turned away. Leaving the gateway dormant. Hidden. Forgotten by all but him.
Above, the world continued to move.
By the time dawn broke over Eversong Woods, every piece had fallen into place. Evacuation routes established. Supplies gathered. Sensor networks are active. Sunwell contingencies underway.
All that remained was time. And time… was the one thing they did not have.
Leylin stood at the edge of Windrunner Village, watching the horizon as the first light of morning broke through the golden canopy. It was peaceful. Too peaceful.
Footsteps approached behind him. Two sets. He didn't need to turn to know who they were.
"You're leaving."
Vereesa Windrunner's voice carried quiet certainty. Beside her, Sylvanas Windrunner said nothing but her gaze was already sharp, already searching for answers.
Leylin nodded once.
"Yes."
Vereesa's expression hardened immediately. "Where?"
"Lordaeron."
The word hit like a blade.
"You can't be serious," Vereesa said, her tone tightening. "That land is already lost."
"Not entirely," Leylin replied.
Sylvanas stepped forward slightly. "Explain."
Leylin turned to face them.
"The Scourge is advancing," he said. "But they're not instantaneous. Their movement, their spread—it still follows a pattern."
He gestured faintly toward the distant north.
"If I disrupt that pattern… even slightly… I can slow them down."
Vereesa shook her head immediately. "By yourself?"
"Yes."
"No," she said firmly. "Absolutely not."
Leylin met her gaze calmly.
"It's the most efficient option."
"It's suicide," Vereesa snapped.
For a moment, silence hung between them. Tense. Sharp. Then Leylin spoke again. Quietly.
"But someone has to."
The words cut deeper than any argument. Vereesa's expression faltered, not in agreement, but in conflict.
"There are other ways," she said. "We can send a unit. A strike team—"
"No," Leylin interrupted gently.
"That would draw attention. Large-scale engagement. Higher risk. Lower efficiency."
He shook his head.
"This requires precision."
Sylvanas had remained silent until now. Watching. Measuring.
"You're not planning to fight them head-on," she said.
Leylin's gaze shifted to her.
"No."
"Guerrilla tactics," Sylvanas continued. "Hit them when they least expect. Isolate stragglers. Disrupt formations."
Leylin nodded.
"Yes."
Sylvanas's eyes narrowed slightly.
"And you believe that will make a difference."
"A small one," Leylin continued, "A necessary one."
Vereesa stepped closer, her voice lower now but no less intense.
"You won't last out there."
Leylin didn't deny it.
"I don't need to last," he said.
"I just need to delay them."
The words settled heavily.
"Delay them for what?" Vereesa demanded.
Leylin's answer came without hesitation.
"Until the others understand." A pause. Then— "Until the nobles see the truth."
Sylvanas's gaze sharpened.
"They won't act until it's undeniable," Leylin continued. "Until the threat is at their gates."
His voice hardened slightly.
"By then… it may already be too late."
Vereesa clenched her fists.
"So you're going to force that realization?"
Leylin met her eyes.
"Yes."
Silence. The weight of his decision pressed against the air. Unyielding. Unchangeable.
Finally, Sylvanas spoke.
"You won't be able to do it alone forever."
Leylin gave a faint, almost imperceptible smile.
"I don't intend to."
Vereesa looked at him sharply. "Then what—"
He shook his head slightly.
"Just… trust me."
It wasn't reassurance. It wasn't comfort. But it was enough.
Vereesa exhaled slowly, her resistance still there but tempered.
"…Then you'd better come back."
Leylin didn't answer that. Because he couldn't promise it.
Sylvanas stepped aside, her voice returning to its usual sharp clarity.
"Then go," she said. "But don't waste the time you're trying to buy."
Leylin inclined his head.
"I won't."
Without another word, he turned. And walked. Into the forest. Toward the south. Toward a land already consumed by death.
Behind him, Eversong Woods remained golden. Alive. Unbroken. Ahead, only ruin. Only darkness. Only the endless march of the Scourge.
And somewhere within it—A single figure moved against the tide. Not to win. Not to conquer. But to buy time. At any cost.