Chapter 72: Medivh |
At the top floor of Violet Citadel.
Allen and his group were surrounded by over twenty Kirin Tor battle mages, who had "escorted" them all the way from the city gates. Their steps were uniform, their silence absolute, and their gazes locked onto Allen without wavering.
Allen felt somewhat wronged. He hadn't used any shadow spells for days and had even sternly warned Xal'atath to behave as if she were dead. Yet the alarms still went off—was he really that evil?
Upon learning of Jaina and Allen's noble identities, the battle mages dared not act rashly. Instead, they merely "invited" the group here.
The top terrace of Violet Citadel was the spot with the best view in all of Dalaran.
Sunlight streamed through the barrier created by the Eye of Dalaran, shattering into countless faint purple light motes that drifted like floating stardust.
A large round table stood on the terrace, with a pot of black tea steaming gently.
Two people sat at the table.
One was an elderly man with white hair and a white beard. His face was etched with the furrows of time, but his eyes remained bright and gentle.
Across from him sat a high elf. He was Krasus, also a member of the Council of Six.
In truth, he was the consort of the Red Dragon Queen Alexstrasza, a dragon disguised as a high elf lurking within Dalaran.
Paval Reiss stepped forward and spoke with neither servility nor arrogance: "Lord Antonidas, is this how Dalaran treats the daughter of Admiral Daelin of Kul Tiras? We escorted Lady Jaina all the way here, only to be greeted by staffs and encirclement?"
Jaina wasn't worried about herself; she cast an anxious glance at Allen.
Antonidas rose to his feet, a gentle smile spreading across his face.
"Lady of House Proudmoore, please accept my apologies. The gates of Dalaran are always open to you. Using magic to scan every person entering the city is merely routine procedure—just as other cities inspect passing travelers."
He tilted his head slightly, a hint of mischief glinting in his wise eyes. "That fellow Andromas from the Arcane Sanctum in Stormwind sent me three letters, each one praising your talent. He wrote, 'I've never seen such genius in my life; keeping her in Stormwind is a sheer waste.' So I've been waiting for you."
Jaina gave a slight bow, the lines of her face softening somewhat.
Then, Antonidas's gaze slowly shifted to Allen.
That gaze was still gentle. But beneath the gentleness, something was tightening.
"But this young man, who triggered the exorcism alarm—who might he be?"
Allen stared back at Antonidas expressionlessly.
Well, it's not necessarily a bad thing. At least it let me meet Dalaran's leader directly.
This is exactly why I came. I promised Wen Laisa I'd protect the Eye of Dalaran. I have to find a way to convince Antonidas to take this seriously.
This old man, though a good person, is too stubborn. His own arrogance indirectly led to Dalaran's destruction.
When dealing with someone like him, you don't actively try to convince him of something. Instead, you guide him to figure it out on his own.
Before Allen could speak, Jaina jumped in first.
"He is Allen Prestor. Of the Prestor family of the Kingdom of Alterac. He is the Royal Magic Advisor of Stormwind, and he is my—"
She paused.
"—friend."
When she said the word "friend," Jaina shot an awkward glance at Allen.
Antonidas had heard of the Prestor surname. Its head was a noble Alterac lord. His tone softened considerably. "Oh? Then could this Mr. Prestor care to explain?"
Allen had considered that, rather than letting the Horde seize the Eye of Dalaran, it might be better to have him take custody of it.
After all, given Dalaran's security level, any treasure stored here was destined to be stolen by enemies.
Dalaran was conquered by orcs once, had Bloodfiend on its doorstep once, was breached by the Scourge once, was crushed to dust by the Burning Legion's defiler Archimonde, and would even crash once more in the distant future.
Under the circumstances, why not let the great Allen Prestor take over the entire city first?
Of course, that was impossible—just a joke.
In that case...
It's been a while since I last lied.
"I don't know what those arcane eyes detected either, but actually..." Allen lowered his gaze, his voice dropping low and slow, as if recalling something heavy. "I carry a curse. For many years now, I've been having a recurring dream."
Antonidas's brow twitched slightly.
"In the dream, there's a raven." Allen's eyes grew distant, as if truly staring at some far-off scene. "A pitch-black raven, always perching on a withered branch, staring at me without moving. Then it transforms into a man, wearing a black mage's robe, with a pale, gaunt face, a beard long unkempt, and messy hair hanging over his forehead. His eyes..."
Allen paused.
"His eyes are always filled with tears."
Antonidas and Krasus exchanged a glance, their shock evident. They both straightened up instantly.
"He apologized to me." Allen's voice grew softer and softer. "Apologizing over and over. He said he made a huge mistake. He said it was too late—too late for everything. He said—"
"He said the flames of fire would rise from the south, and the undead would shatter the northern gates. He said the kingdoms of kings would turn to ashes, and you—all of you—were not yet ready."
Allen raised his head, his gaze locking directly onto Antonidas.
"He said only by uniting all races could everyone survive. He said I was chosen by him, and that I had to atone for his sins."
Antonidas could no longer sit still. He kept glancing at Krasus, both of them understanding the meaning behind each other's eyes.
Medivh?!
The last Guardian, Medivh?
How is that possible? Medivh... isn't he dead?
Krasus spoke for the first time.
"Young man," he leaned forward slightly, a warm smile on his lips, "when did you start dreaming these dreams?"
"Five years ago."
Three years after the Dark Portal opened—the very year Medivh fell.
The vast majority of common folk only knew bits and pieces of what happened to that powerful Guardian. But Antonidas and Krasus, as members of Dalaran's Council of Six, were naturally privy to the full picture.
Those who knew these secrets could be counted on one hand. Apart from those directly involved, the only outsider might be Sargeras, the dark titan who had possessed Medivh. And Allen doubted the Lord of the Burning Legion had the time to play such trivial games with them.
Antonidas's Adam's apple bobbed. If this young man is telling the truth...
If Medivh had come to me in person and said these things, I wouldn't have believed him.
But Medivh haunting this young man like a curse... this uncanny coincidence, these similar traces... This is information I deduced myself. And I trust my own judgment without question.
Allen then pulled out an unassuming wooden stick from his chest.
A fragment of Atiesh.
He held it in his palm, his movements as reverent as if he were cradling a holy relic.
"Five years ago, a meteor streaked across the sky. This thing appeared outside my house. I never knew what it was, only that it was warm, as if alive."
He looked down at the stick, his gaze tender and confused.
"All these years, I've carried it with me. I don't know what it is, but I know it's waiting for me."
Stella stood in the back, originally moved to tears.
Benefactor has gone through so much, carried so much. Her little nose tingled, and her eyes reddened.
Then she saw the wooden stick.
Why does it look so familiar?
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