To be honest, Rhodes felt a touch of helplessness. This was a society that judged by appearances, and the reaction of the elder Mograine and the others was entirely within his expectations.
Looking at Illidan's demonic visage, any normal person would assume the man was a lackey of the Burning Legion. Whether there were demons in the Twisting Nether who weren't part of the Legion, or whether other races could transform into demons, was not a nuance they were interested in. To them, a demon was evil—exterminate first, ask questions later.
But who was Illidan? He was Azeroth's true "Child of Destiny," the one prophesied by the Naaru—the mouthpieces of the Light—to be the one destined to destroy the Burning Legion.
The irony was that even Xe'ra, Mother of the Light, didn't know exactly how he would achieve it. In the eyes of the Light, only the Light could conquer Fel.
Yet, it just so happened that when Illidan was born, his eyes shone with a golden hue. Unlike Queen Azshara, whose golden eyes denoted destiny, Illidan's golden glow was a literal manifestation of the Light (a fact supported by official lore).
Standing beside Rhodes, Maiev wore a look of schadenfreude. This is exactly what you wanted to see, Rhodes. That man Illidan is unwelcome wherever he goes.
"Lord Rhodes, are you certain we should trust this demon's word? What if he intends to trap us? Can you guarantee the safety of his portal?" Archmage Rhonin asked. "This could be a conspiracy of the Burning Legion to exile you—or all of us—to another plane. The Legion is a master of trickery; they exploit every human weakness, and deception is their greatest tool."
"Wait, everyone, calm down!" Kael'thas stepped forward to speak on Rhodes's behalf. "I pledge the honor of Quel'Thalas that Lord Illidan has no such intent. He has fought the Legion since time immemorial.
Our ancient records show that ten thousand years ago, it was Illidan who acted as a double agent to gain the Legion's trust, only to shut the portal at the final moment. If he were a true lackey of the Legion, they would have won ten millennia ago, and there would have been no Battle of Mount Hyjal."
Rhodes added, "And just recently, Illidan used a Fel artifact to attack the Frozen Throne. While that artifact contained the will of Sargeras, we destroyed it immediately after the attack. If he had any malice toward me, he could have struck long ago. He became this way specifically to combat the Legion."
"Regent Rhodes," the elder Mograine finally spoke, restraining the tension. "You are the one chosen by the Titan messenger, the one trusted by Lord Uther, and the one favored by the Light. My logic tells me I should draw the Ashbringer and purge this demon, but my faith in the Light tells me I should trust you."
He chose to believe in Rhodes—the man who had brought hope back to Lordaeron and sought to rebuild the kingdom.
"I appreciate your trust, Ashbringer," Rhodes said with a nod.
"Lower your weapons, brothers," Mograine commanded his Paladins and Priests. "If this demon moves against us, I will be the first to purge him with the Ashbringer." The group reluctantly lowered their arms but remained in a state of high alert.
"Alright, Illidan, let's begin. Once we've brought the Alliance heroes back to Azeroth, they will have no choice but to believe your intentions," Rhodes said, turning to the Demon Hunter.
"Hmph! Prepare yourselves. We depart now. Dizziness is normal; do not struggle," Illidan grunted. He nodded to Lady Vashj, who directed several Naga Sea Witches to join Illidan in the ritual. Powerful Arcane energy collided with Fel power.
The air vibrated violently as an unstable vortex formed in the center of the valley. Space was forcibly torn open, light bending and warping until it stabilized into a glowing portal of deep violet and fel green, wide enough for several men to pass through abreast. Through the shimmering haze, a distorted view of a desolate, red-hued world appeared, with the jagged remains of planets hanging in a fractured sky.
"The path to the shattered world of Outland is open. Move! Through the portal!" Illidan commanded.
"For the Alliance! For our heroes!" Mograine raised the Ashbringer high, his voice echoing through the valley. He was the first to charge into the portal; he intended to scout the other side and ensure it was safe before allowing Rhodes and the others to follow. As the Ashbringer, he felt it was his duty to shield the Grand Marshal and take any risks upon himself.
Under the watchful eyes of the group, Mograine crossed over and landed safely on the scorched red earth. Illidan allowed a thin smile to touch his lips before following, followed by Lady Vashj. Confirmed safe, the rest of the Alliance elite, led by Rhodes, stepped through.
When the last Naga vanished into the light, the portal shrank and winked out of existence.
On the other side, the searing, barren, and perilous land of Outland welcomed guests from Azeroth for the first time in over a decade. The world was unrecognizable—a shattered planet lashed by warp storms. The ground was parched and crimson, and in the distance, demons like Infernals and Imps roamed the wastes.
"Heavens... look at the ground beneath our feet. It's... it's all bones!" a priestess shrieked. She hadn't noticed at first, but the "red soil" was actually a carpet of skeletal remains.
"Light preserve us... this is a cursed land, like the hells of legend," a Paladin remarked.
"Regrettably, there is no hell," Rhodes said with a grim smile. "These remains are the crimes of the Old Horde—the legacy of Gul'dan." (While there was no hell, Rhodes knew the Shadowlands existed, though he kept that to himself.)
"This place is a demon's nest. Grand Marshal, are you certain the Expeditionary Force is still alive?" Mograine asked, resting his blade on his shoulder.
"Have faith, Ashbringer. I am certain. Through the guidance of the Light, I have seen visions of this land. On this red soil, the heroes built a fortress. Though they have aged, they remain at their posts."
Rhodes surveyed the area. Behind them stood the massive, silent silhouette of the closed Dark Portal. They were in Hellfire Peninsula. Before them lay the Path of Glory—a road paved literally with the bones of the Draenei slaughtered by the Old Horde.
Following this path would lead them to Hellfire Citadel, where the Pit Lord Magtheridon would one day be imprisoned. Currently, the Citadel was held by the Fel Orcs, and Magtheridon ruled Outland from the Black Temple.
"The Light guides us. Lead us to them, Grand Marshal!" Dathrohan said. It was no secret to the Silver Hand that Rhodes received "guidance," as it was how he had recovered their lost relics and why Uther had followed him to Kalimdor. They were here because of that faith, not because of Illidan.
"Follow me." As a veteran gamer, Rhodes knew the geography perfectly. "We head toward Honor Hold."
"We part ways for now," Illidan told Rhodes. "I must scout another region. Once you have settled your business, find me. I will leave Vashj with you; she can open portals and coordinate with your mages."
Rhodes watched as "Lord Egg" departed with his Naga and a few Night Elf followers. Illidan was likely off to assess the power structure of Outland to find his footing. Rhodes, meanwhile, wondered if he should make contact with the Draenei, Prophet Velen, or the three Naaru.