In terms of appearance, the Nightborne of the Broken Isles actually bear a closer resemblance to the Night Elves than most. Since the Great Sundering ten thousand years ago, these Nightborne have never set foot outside Suramar City.
This is because the moment they step beyond the influence of the Nightwell, their bodies undergo a horrific mutation until they become Withered—monsters who have completely lost their minds, irreversibly transformed into magic-addicted zombies.
"You mean these Highborne are exactly as they were ten thousand years ago?" Maiev asked.
"What did you expect? Once they are deprived of magic, they turn into monsters—unless your Well of Eternity were still around, or something similar to it appeared," Rhodes replied.
The Night Elves had long since lost their sensitivity to arcane magic, so they hadn't realized that the Nightborne's *Nightwell* was essentially a device acting as a "miniature" Well of Eternity. Compared to the High Elves' *Sunwell*, it was somewhat inferior, as it hadn't been created using the original waters of the Well of Eternity.
For ten thousand years, they had remained secluded, their commoners told that the Night Elves of the outside world had been wiped out. Only Grand Magistrix Elisande knew the truth. She was a formidable chronomancer, exceptionally skilled in time manipulation. However, the leader of Suramar was ultimately an opportunist. As long as your power was great enough to inspire despair, the Grand Magistrix was quite willing to surrender.
In the *Legion* era, after players handled the Emerald Nightmare, the Nighthold raid followed. At that point, the Nightborne split into two factions: the loyalists under Elisande and the rebels led by First Arcanist Thalyssra. Eventually, Elisande was toppled by the players.
Later, the Nightborne joined the Horde, a move that caught many players off guard. Word was that Lor'themar Theron—that lucky dog—had essentially "stolen" the First Arcanist's heart while the players did all the hard work collecting ancient mana crystals.
The topic was drifting, but for now, the Night Elves of Suramar had no intention of returning to the fold. Rhodes planned to bring them into the Alliance eventually, but that required subduing them with overwhelming force—something he didn't quite have yet. He'd need at least a thousand Phoenixes surrounding Suramar before the Grand Magistrix and the First Arcanist would come out to surrender respectfully.
"It truly is a terrible curse upon our race," Maiev remarked. "Magic is a blight. To me, the power of the Arcane is no better than Fel. Only Nature and Life are the true home of the Night Elves."
"Every primal force is essentially the same," Rhodes said, turning to her. "And if we're being honest, you use Shadow energy, don't you? You have no right to judge those who use Arcane or Fel."
Truth be told, Rhodes despised hypocrisy, especially double standards. He didn't mind what force a person used, even Death. Azeroth's classes were all evolutions of the six primal forces: Druids represented Life and Nature; Priests and Paladins, the Light; Mages, the Arcane.
Shamans used spells, but were theoretically tied to Nature. Even the rage a Warrior tapped into was a manifestation of the Life force. As for Undead Warriors or Light-bound Undead—well, the line where Death ends and Life begins was always blurry.
"I practiced this power with my sisters specifically to deal with Illidan," Maiev countered. "We have not fallen into shadow; we merely utilize the power without becoming its slaves."
The Night Elves were prone to corruption by primal forces. While the Wardens used Shadow, they remained physically unchanged, unlike those "tainted" by the Arcane or Fel. To Maiev, this was a fundamental difference.
"Believe what you like," Rhodes shrugged. "But now isn't the time to contact the Nightborne. Our priority is the Eastern Kingdoms—meeting up with the Highborne branch of your kin, the High Elves—or as they call themselves now, the Blood Elves."
"I understand. But I still feel we should reach out to these Night Elf kin properly," Maiev insisted. She firmly believed magic was a hazard. Knowing one group of Highborne was suffering from magical withdrawal, she wanted to confirm their status.
"Later. I'll personally contact them soon and 'persuade' Elisande," Rhodes said. Dealing with someone like the Grand Magistrix was simple: you just had to show her enough firepower.
"Understood, Archdruid Rhodes. Do we leave for the Eastern Kingdoms now?"
"We rest today and leave tomorrow. After that battle and the resurrection spell, we all need to recover. Once we hit the Eastern Kingdoms, there are even grimmer battles waiting for us."
"Fine. I could use the rest," Maiev admitted. She had been battered by the two Archangels; a night of recovery was in her best interest. Besides, her urgency to hunt Illidan had been tempered by the reality of her situation.
Rhodes set up two tents—one for him and Jaina, and one for Maiev. The night passed in silence.
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The next morning, the three gathered.
"How are we traveling? By ship or flying mount?" Maiev asked. She had seen Rhodes' Phoenixes; their speed was impressive. Crossing the Great Sea on them seemed like a solid choice.
"Hahaha, Maiev, do you want to burn your backside? Those big birds are made of living fire; they aren't exactly 'rideable,'" Rhodes laughed. Unless you had a butt made of iron, sitting on a Phoenix was a bad idea.
"I thought you might have some special magic to prevent that. How are we going, then?" Maiev asked, slightly disappointed she wouldn't get to ride a Phoenix.
"Wyverns. We'll rotate between them to reach the Eastern Kingdoms." Rhodes summoned two Wyvern Monarchs. Both were equipped with two-seater saddles. He and Jaina rode one, while Maiev took the other—though Rhodes maintained magical control over both.
"Rhodes, I thought we were teleporting? Even on Wyverns, the flight will take a day or two," Jaina noted.
"Don't worry, dear. Our target is Silverpine Forest. We'll intercept Kael'thas and his group there." Rhodes knew the Broken Shore business had ended quickly. In the original timeline, Maiev, Tyrande, and Malfurion arrived in the Eastern Kingdoms just in time to meet Kael'thas as he led the Blood Elf caravan toward the Alliance forces near Dalaran. By taking the "slow" route, Rhodes was perfectly timing their arrival.
"Fair enough," Jaina nodded. Cross-continental teleportation was draining, even for her; this saved her mana.
"I've never ridden a Wyvern. I don't know how to operate it," Maiev said, looking at the massive green beast with uncertainty.
"Don't you Night Elves have Hippogryph riders? And Chimaeras? You've never ridden?"
Maiev rolled her eyes. "I am a Warden, not a Sentinel. And can a Hippogryph really be compared to this green brute?"
"Just sit tight. It will follow me; you don't need to do a thing," Rhodes said. He couldn't help but notice Maiev's prickly, "big sister" attitude. It made sense—she was, after all, over ten thousand years old.
"I'd rather not fall from the sky."
"Trust me, the Wyvern Monarch is as steady as they come."
Maiev awkwardly mounted the beast. The two Wyvern Monarchs took to the sky, soaring toward the Eastern Kingdoms. After two days of flight and a mount rotation, they reached the coastline of Silverpine Forest.
Rhodes immediately cast *View Earth*. His magical map sharpened, pinpointing the local terrain. Within seconds, he spotted them: a column of roughly a thousand Blood Elves, hauling massive amounts of magical supplies. At the head of the caravan were Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider and Capurnia.
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