In a burst of blue light, Khadgar's messenger teleported back to Dalaran. In his wake, the faint outline of an arcane rune hung shimmering in the air. Tyrande touched the rune. It collapsed into itself, an ephemeral thing. In a blink it was gone, leaving behind nothing but the memory of the messenger's visit.

Xe'ra had agreed to see Tyrande; in fact, the Na'aru wished to see her immediately. The messenger had asked Tyrande to wait, a portal would be opened for her to travel to the place where Xe'ra resided. A tingle crept over Tyrande, to be in the presence of one of the Na'aru, an ancient being of pure light. What a privilege.

She thought of Khadgar, and what he must be enduring from the Council. The poor man. He would be hard pressed to make them believe her news. The Night Elves and the Kirin Tor were only just beginning to trust each other. But good, reliable Khadgar had wasted no time. The messenger had been waiting for Tyrande on her return from the Nightmare. She wished she could have had time to change her gown, Xe'ra deserved to see Tyrande at her best. She shook her head, catching herself. Such small matters were of no importance when so much was at stake. Certainly, Xe'ra would not concern herself with such things.

A low hum emanated from behind her, she turned. The air quivered, blurring, becoming like water, surrounded by a halo of white light. The portal's surface cleared, glimmering, waiting.

She stepped through, her transition into a sumptuous room overlooking the spires of Dalaran instantaneous. She smiled, rueful. Khadgar was spoiling her, making her transition so quick, he knew how much she hated portals. She should have treated him better. He was not like the others. A faint chiming, soft and melodic caught her attention. The portal vanished. She turned, and caught her breath.

Xe'ra floated above her, a being of purest light. Underneath her elaborate crown, she looked down upon Tyrande, her wings rotating around her torso, where her light was brightest.

Blinded, Tyrande fell to her knees, and bowed her head. A voice, beautiful, calming and patient entered her mind.

You wish to know how to enter the Twisting Nether while you are still living, so you might carry the Light of Elune to the one called Illidan, and protect him in his fight against the Legion.

The Na'aru fell silent. Tyrande waited. The silence lengthened. Perhaps Xe'ra wanted her to answer.

Tyrande nodded, though she kept her eyes on the smooth silver tiles beneath her. "I promised him I would return."

Xe'ra said nothing for a long while. Tyrande wondered if she had offended the Na'aru. A sensation rippled through her. She could feel her thoughts being read, her motivations and intentions laid bare. She gritted her teeth, enduring the invasion. Whatever it would take. Xe'ra's voice returned, soft, compelling.

If you do this thing, you will suffer terrible loss. There is a chance Illidan will survive without your aid if his body is retrieved in time. Would you not rather remain and lead the fight to breach the Tomb of Sargeras?

Tyrande closed her eyes. She wanted more than anything to be relieved of this terrible burden, but she had made a promise. Illidan was counting on her. He was waiting for her. She could not leave him there, suffering while the Alliance and Horde bickered amongst themselves, wasting time.

She glanced up. "What loss will I suffer?"

Again, silence. Tyrande shifted, uneasy. She sensed the Na'aru's disapproval.

In these dangerous times, strong leaders are needed more than ever. You belong in Azeroth, Daughter of Elune, leading your people. Illidan's path is his own. His choices have led him to where he is now.

The races of Azeroth must face their own challenge: to overcome their differences and ally themselves together as one against the Legion. It is unfair of you to leave this task to Khadgar, when it has been you who has seen what Gul'dan is preparing to do.

Tyrande felt the sting of humiliation. Instead of answering her question, the Na'aru had chastised her. Tyrande stood up. "No. This time, a greater duty compels me. I will not abandon Illidan. The risk is too great to wait for the others to come to his aid."

Xe'ra's wings continued to rotate. Her light dimmed. Tyrande wondered if the Na'aru had cut her off. She waited, uneasy. After a long while, the Na'aru's light returned, bright once more.

Very well. There is only one powerful enough to send you there. You must ask Elune for her help. Go to Winterspring, to Elune's Gem. She will answer your call.

The hum returned and a portal opened once more. On its opposite side, the serene quiet of her reception room waited. She stepped towards it.

Tyrande. Take some time to reconsider. The cost will be too great.

Tyrande hesitated and looked back at the Na'aru. What was Xe'ra trying to tell her? She sensed a subtle change in the air. Was Xe'ra . . . sad? Tyrande thought it through. Elune had created the Na'aru. Did Xe'ra fear for her creator? But how could Elune be affected by Tyrande's decision?

Xe'ra's light dimmed, her wings slowing their rotation. They came to a halt, and Xe'ra's light vanished, leaving behind an empty shell. Shadows filled the room where her light had just been. Tyrande felt real fear. Whatever had just happened was a warning, but a warning she did not understand. She plunged into the portal, unnerved. The sooner she reached Winterspring, the better.

Elune would know the truth. Whether she would tell Tyrande was another question. There was only one way to find out.