Malfurion left the Barrow's gardens and took a gryphon back to Darnassus. The flight would take awhile, but it would give him time to think, and sort through his thoughts. He still did not have a plan. As the gryphon's wings beat a steady rhythm toward the towering trunk of Teldrassil, he considered the scenario he now faced.

The Tomb of Sargeras. Once, long ago, when he had been a young night elf, the Tomb had been Suramar's Temple of Elune. But long ago, during the War of the Ancients, the Burning Legion had destroyed the bridge from the city to the small island which housed the once stunning, elegant Temple and tried to open a second portal there to usher more demons into Azeroth. Thousands of years later, the Guardian Aegwynn defeated the Avatar of Sargeras within the Temple's ruins, and the once beautiful temple was renamed the Tomb of Sargeras. It was sealed and left buried under the waters of the sea. But Gul'dan had come and raised the Tomb from the sea upon a new island marred by the taint of the Legion. Stripped of all life, its desolate surface lay blackened and smouldering. The only variation to the bleak vista were the pools of fel lava bubbling up from the corrupted soil.

And now, Tyrande's body was trapped deep within the Legion's stronghold in Azeroth, its walls impenetrable until all the pieces of the Pillars of Creation were collected and assembled by the Kirin Tor. The last Malfurion had heard was various factions had managed to gather all but the final, most powerful piece--and that piece was rumoured to be held by Gul'dan himself.

Malfurion scoffed, bitter, as despair reared its ugly head once more. It was an impossible situation. They could not get into the Tomb without the completed Pillar, but to be able to even approach the Broken Shore, they needed what Gul'dan held, and apart from the necromancer's sudden, unexpected visit to Tyrande's hiding place, he never left the Tomb. Of course, after the hundreds of attacks by the Legion across Azeroth, the armies of both the Horde and Alliance had gathered to attack the Legion's stronghold. Malfurion shook his head. The cost had been enormous.

Despite the support of thousands of champions, and wielding the legendary sword Shalamayne, the powerful King Varian Wrynn had fallen at the gates of the Tomb of Sargeras. Malfurion had heard the reports, sent out afterwards by Greymane, the bitter, vengeful leader of the Worgen. He blamed the Horde for the loss of Varian and of his own son in the failed confrontation.

Greymane had watched from high above in a retreating airship as Gul'dan struck down the valiant, brave Varian as he fought off dozens of wrathguard so his people could escape. The leader of Horde, the troll Vol'jin, succumbed to his own injuries soon after the Horde's retreat. In a very short space of time, the Legion had nearly annihilated both the Alliance and the Horde, and with almost no effort. Both the Horde and the Alliance had had to name new leaders. Sylvanas, the Banshee Queen of the Undead had been chosen by Vol'jin as he died, and Varian's son Anduin, had had to take his father's throne. Malfurion liked the boy, but the loss of Varian was serious. The Alliance lacked a true leader, and had fallen to petty bickering and infighting. If Varian still lived, Malfurion would have gone to him at once, but the boy . . . No. He had not yet earned the respect of the other factions. Malfurion could not go to him with this. There had to be someone else, someone who could bring the factions together, and lead them as one, as Varian had once done.

Malfurion thought of Alexstrasza. Good, kind, benevolent Alexstrasza, once the Dragon Aspect of Life, though no more. He could trust her, although would she risk angering her kin by involving herself in mortal affairs? If only Ysera still lived, she would have convinced the Aspects to help galvanise the factions--his gryphon was closing in on Rut'theran Village fast. He braced himself for the landing.

Once off the gryphon, he made his way into the soft fuchsia glow of the portal, a heartbeat later he emerged at the top of Teldrassil. Guards stood to attention as he passed. He ignored them, and made his way to Tyrande's house, his thoughts carrying on where he left off. Alexstrasza was a possibility, but there had to be someone else, someone he could trust, who also had the trust of the people, not just of the Alliance, but of the Horde. He stopped in his tracks. Of course.

Khadgar. Malfurion changed direction, and headed to the Temple of the Moon, where the Draenei mages provided portals to the other capital cities. His steps slowed, as fresh doubts rose up. While Khadgar did have the trust of many, he was not an isolated entity, and could not lead others without the support of the Council of The Kirin Tor, and the Council was more political than all of the factions on Azeroth put together. Plus, Malfurion had heard Khadgar had at least one very powerful enemy. Jaina Proudmoore.

Not long ago, the Archmage Jaina had departed, furious, when Khadgar had led the vote against her refusal to work with the Horde mages in the fight against the Legion. Filled with bitterness over what she believed was the Horde's betrayal at the Broken Shore, she left, refusing to be a part of what Khadgar intended. Things were no more stable in Dalaran than they were anywhere else. The whole of Azeroth seemed to be falling apart. Was nowhere safe? Was nothing sacred anymore?

Malfurion stopped himself, sensing the thoughts that plagued him so often, of darkness and despair returning. He shook his head. Tyrande needed him now more than ever, and here he was standing on the lake bridge in the center of Darnassus dithering over the infighting of the Kirin Tor. He was wasting time. She still lived, and it was his duty to bring her body back from that pit. He had failed to protect her today. He would not fail her again. Filled with determination, he pushed his way through the guards flanking him, hastening to the Temple of the Moon. It was time to go to Dalaran. Khadgar would help him get Tyrande back, he had to, because Malfurion wasn't going to take no for an answer.