With the world spinning around him, Rhodes successfully escaped the Twisting Nether, having made a complete fool of the Dark Titan.
When Rhodes's figure reappeared in the skies above Azeroth, the entire battlefield fell into a momentary silence. He plummeted from the spatial rift that had not yet fully closed, completing his Dragonman transformation in mid-air to descend once more as a demigod. As for his previous wood clone, it had long since reverted into a towering ancient tree.
"Lord Azure Scale!" a Night Elf sentinel was the first to cry out.
In the next heartbeat, cheers erupted like a tsunami!
"He's back! Lord Rhodes is back!"
"Victory! We won! A glorious victory!"
The Wild Gods roared toward the heavens, the dragons circled in flight, and the coalition warriors raised their weapons, their voices shaking the very clouds. Even the ten Holy Archangels suspended high above nodded slightly, their blue-gold wings shedding rays of blessing before their figures gradually dimmed and vanished.
Rhodes slammed into the ground, creating a deep crater. Cenarius was the first to rush to his side.
"Rhodes! You're alive!" The demigod mentor's voice held a rare note of agitation. "We thought... you had sacrificed yourself by jumping into the portal."
Illidan's report to them had been that Rhodes had jumped into the heart of the Burning Legion to gain Sargeras's trust, but no one knew what would happen next, or if the demigod would ever return.
In the month following Rhodes's departure, the coalition had spent their time mopping up the remaining demons. During this time, the ten Holy Archangels remained in the sky, their Holy Light sustaining the soldiers' energy as they cleared the battlefield.
The land was scarred. Following the cataclysmic explosion of the Well of Eternity, Queen Azshara's capital had sunk entirely into the sea. The Night Elves believed their queen was dead, but Rhodes knew better—she would be saved by the Old Gods and transformed into the Naga.
He felt a twinge of curiosity about seeing Azshara again when he returned to the future. Azeroth would likely wipe the memories of most, preserving them only for Malfurion, Tyrande, and Illidan. Would the Queen be "saved" by the Old Gods in the same way?
"Thought Sargeras kept me?" Rhodes grinned, flashing a tired but triumphant smile. He patted his chest, where the Emerald Dream Mark glowed with a soft green light, sealing the purest Fel Essence stolen from Sargeras himself. He didn't mention this specific task to the others; knowing that the great world-soul of Azeroth needed to absorb Fel energy might just shatter their worldviews.
"The portal is closed for good," Malfurion said solemnly, pointing toward the site of the Well. Where the sky-tearing vortex once sat, a massive crater hundreds of kilometers wide remained, swallowed by the sea to become the Maelstrom.
"And Sargeras?" Tyrande asked with concern.
"Fuming with rage," Rhodes said, standing up with Cenarius's help. "But he won't be coming through anytime soon. Without a power source like the Well, even he will find it difficult to breach Azeroth's barriers."
Garrod Shadowsong's voice broke as he spoke. "We won. We actually won." The Night Elf Empire had ended with the explosion, making way for the era of the Druids and the Priestesses of the Moon.
Seven days later, the foothills of Mount Hyjal became a sea of celebration. The scale was unprecedented: Night Elves, Tauren, Furbolgs, Treants, Quillboars, and Harpies—every race sent representatives. Even the secretive Green Dragonflight sent several dragons in humanoid form with Ysera's blessing.
Around the largest central bonfire, Rhodes sat surrounded by heroes. The traces of Fel corruption had faded under the combined healing of Cenarius and Ysera. He held a massive wooden tankard of Moonwine.
"To victory!" Garrod raised his cup.
"To Azeroth!" Malfurion added.
"To the survivors!" the boar-god Agamaggan grunted, pouring an entire barrel down his throat.
Rhodes watched the scene: Malfurion and Tyrande sitting side-by-side with unspoken understanding; Rhonin and Krasus discussing magic in low tones; and Illidan, sitting alone on a branch of an ancient tree, silently wiping the Twin Blades of Azzinoth.
"Not going to talk to him?" Cenarius asked, walking up to Rhodes.
Rhodes looked at Illidan and shook his head. "Not yet. He needs time to accept what he's done." Destroying the Well meant destroying the foundation of Night Elf civilization. Rhodes felt a pang of frustration that as a traveler, he couldn't change the destiny of Illidan's ten-thousand-year imprisonment.
When the three-day celebration finally ended, Rhodes quietly left the camp and headed deep into the woods of Mount Hyjal. He sat cross-legged, pressing his hands to the earth, and touched the Emerald Dream Mark.
His consciousness sank into the core of the Emerald Dream—the slumbering place of the world-soul, the Goddess Azeroth.
[You have returned.]
A voice echoed in his mind—not in words, but in the rhythm of the planet.
"I'm back, and I've brought what you needed, Great Azeroth."
Rhodes released the seal on his chest. The green orb of Sargeras's Fel Essence floated out, suppressed by the planet's will.
[Pure chaos... yet containing twisted creativity... interesting. This is exactly the power I sought, Rhodes. I thought it would take you a long time, but you were bolder than I imagined.]
"Sargeras tried to control me with it, but the Mark you gave me protected me."
[You did excellently. You stole the essence and thwarted his descent. You will soon return to the future; we shall meet again there.]
Rhodes nodded, but Azeroth's next words stunned him.
[Perhaps I can join you at the celebration. I think you would make a fine mate. I have a feeling you will grow to a level equal to mine.]
Rhodes was speechless. "What? Great World-Soul... you want me as a partner?"
[Don't be so surprised. You are the most outstanding male I've encountered, and you have the potential to reach my height.]
"But... you don't even have a body."
[I can descend into the consciousness of my followers. My original choice was Azshara, but her body is tainted now. I have set my sights on a pure vessel: Tyrande.]
Rhodes stood there, dumbfounded. The mystery was finally solved—the "Tyrande" he had been flirting with earlier wasn't just Tyrande; it had been Azeroth herself.