"You should be quite familiar with this person. Care to guess who it is, Illidan?" Tyrande smiled, stepping aside to let Rhodes appear before him.
Though Illidan was blind, his spectral sight allowed him to see more clearly than those with eyes. He hadn't noticed Rhodes initially only because his entire focus had been anchored on Tyrande.
Upon seeing Rhodes, Illidan's body trembled slightly. He spoke slowly, his voice raspy. "So it is you. It has been ten thousand years... I didn't expect you to appear at a time like this."
"First time meeting you, Mr. Illidan," Rhodes said with a smile. "To you, I might be an old acquaintance, but for me, this is our first encounter."
"Heh, it seems you haven't traveled back ten thousand years yet. Tyrande, aren't you afraid of altering history?" Illidan asked. "Bringing him to see me now... logically, we should only meet him after he returns from the ancient past. That way, we wouldn't interfere with the timeline."
Before becoming a Demon Hunter, Illidan had been a master sorcerer. He understood the mysteries of time well. Even a small, unintentional action could derail the entire course of history.
"Cenarius saw him first, then Malfurion and I," Tyrande explained. "As long as we don't tell Rhodes what happens ten thousand years ago, we should be fine."
So I'm the only one who realized Rhodes' true secret, Tyrande thought.
Not even the sharp-witted Illidan sensed that Rhodes already knew about the War of the Ancients and the time-travelers. She wanted to test him further, but the paradox was indeed a serious concern.
"It isn't that simple, my dear Tyrande," Illidan shook his head. "You don't understand the gravity of this. None of us should have seen him yet."
"Illidan, please don't call me 'my dear Tyrande.' You may call me 'Lady Tyrande' or 'Sister-in-law,'" she said, glancing at Rhodes. The term "Sister-in-law" was one Rhodes had taught her.
"Hmph. You and Malfurion aren't married yet. You haven't been blessed. Your love for him is your business; my love for you is mine. It is unyielding, unto death," Illidan declared with the arrogance of a dominant protagonist.
Rhodes noticed a tiny, subtle curve at the corner of Tyrande's mouth. It seems no woman is immune to being pursued so passionately.
"I won't have much contact with you, Rhodes. Not until you return from the past. I don't want to change anything," Illidan said, turning his blind gaze toward the human.
Rhodes nodded. To be honest, he wasn't exactly looking forward to the War of the Ancients—it was a deathtrap. Will I be traveling back with Rhonin, Broxigar, and Krasus? he wondered.
"I have no desire to ask about the past, Mr. Illidan. For now, we are just here to deal with the Legion," Rhodes said.
"Good." Illidan took a deep breath. Fel energy surged through him, and in an instant, the enchanted chains binding him shattered.
As they exited the cell, the Wardens outside felt the surge of Fel power. They drew their weapons, muscles tensed for an immediate strike.
"Hold your fire!" Rhodes shouted, stepping between the two groups. "We have persuaded Illidan. He will fight the Legion once more. We are allies now, not enemies."
"I couldn't care less what you think," Illidan grunted. "I owe my people nothing. I am out here only for Tyrande. I will hunt the demons."
"Lady Tyrande, are you sure this... 'weapon' is controllable?" a Warden asked coldly.
"Enough! Illidan is free by the command of the Demigod. Move aside!" Tyrande barked.
The Wardens glared at Illidan with pure hatred—a sentiment nurtured by Maiev over ten millennia. Illidan didn't bother to explain himself. He had never betrayed his race; he had always been trying to save Azeroth.
They left the Vault of the Wardens and emerged into the world above. A detachment of Sentinels was waiting for Tyrande, who needed to return to Mount Hyjal to organize the final defense. However, reports came in of a massive source of corruption in Felwood Forest. Illidan immediately volunteered to deal with it.
"Rhodes, will you come with me or follow Illidan?" Tyrande asked.
"I'll go with Illidan. We need to neutralize the source in Felwood," Rhodes decided. This was a perfect chance to kill Tichondrius. The Dreadlord was a high-ranking commander; killing him would surely yield massive resource rewards.
"I see. I will meet you later after I speak with Malfurion," Tyrande said, departing on her Hippogryph.
"You should have gone with her," Illidan told Rhodes once they were alone. "Don't expect to squeeze any information about the past out of me."
"Don't worry, I'm not interested. And I actually agree with you—Tyrande shouldn't have sought me out yet," Rhodes replied.
As they walked, Rhodes considered showing him the Fire Element Scroll to see if he could summon "Fel-Fire" Elementals, but Illidan cut him off before he could even reach for it. "I know about the scroll. Keep it away. We'll talk when you're back from the past."
Suddenly, Rhodes felt a familiar aura—the chill of death. The sound of hooves echoed in the distance, and a figure appeared on an undead steed.
"I could smell your rot from miles away, Undead. You will regret coming near me," Illidan hissed, drawing the Twin Blades of Azzinoth.
"You're welcome to try, Demon Hunter. You'll find we are quite evenly matched," Arthas sneered from his horse. "And Rhodes, my friend... we meet again. Won't you say hello?"
"I was wondering who it was," Rhodes immediately began to taunt. "If it isn't the 'Great Filial Son' himself! I really feel like spanking you on behalf of your late father."
"Still as sharp-tongued as ever, Rhodes. But I'm not here for you today. We'll settle our debt later," Arthas replied.
"Oh, so you're here for the Demon Hunter? Planning to betray your new masters already? You're quite the 'slave of three surnames,' aren't you?"
"What is that supposed to mean?" Arthas frowned.
"Exactly what it sounds like. First, you were a Menethil under King Terenas. Then you started working for the Legion, so you took Sargeras's name. Or maybe not Sargeras—I doubt a fallen Titan cares for a small fry like you. You're probably just a lapdog for the Dreadlords, so you took their name."
"And then there's your loyalty to the Lich King, the old Orc Shaman Ner'zhul. That's another father figure for you. You have so many 'dads' now. Should I ask how your new father Ner'zhul is doing?" Rhodes laughed, dialing the mockery to the maximum.
"What nonsense are you talking? I serve the Lich King. Who is Ner'zhul? I don't know him," Arthas growled.
"You don't know? Then let me tell you. The puppet on the Frozen Throne was made by the Legion. He isn't some 'Lord of the Undead.' He's a pathetic old Orc whose body was destroyed by Kil'jaeden, leaving only a soul stuffed into a suit of armor and dumped in Northrend," Rhodes revealed, ruthlessly exposing the Lich King's origin.
After all, in this era, no one even knew about the Jailer yet.