Late at night, the towering walls of Stormwind Keep cast grim shadows beneath the moonlight.
Wren turned his head again and again to look at Allen.
"Are you sure this is going to work? Can it really understand what you want it to do?"
Allen smiled faintly.
"Just trust me."
...
Time rewinds to three hours earlier.
After escaping from Stormwind Prison, they temporarily hid in the Dwarven District. The coachman brought them to an old friend's blacksmith shop.
It belonged to a red-bearded dwarf named Bron. The man had quite the big heart—just on the promise of "buying him a good drink later," he waved his hand and lent them the entire shop.
Here, Stella crafted an extremely, extremely, extremely long grappling hook.
Because Allen planned to bypass everyone in Stormwind Keep and climb directly up to Varian's chambers from the rear of the fortress.
As for how the hook would reach that far—
In the backyard of the smithy, he found a sparrow pecking at the ground. Squatting down, he stared at the tiny bird and cast Speak with Animals.
"Hey, little guy, can you do me a favor?"
The sparrow tilted its head at him, chirping noisily: "What do you want? Got any food?"
Allen took out a handful of grain.
"Find me a bigger bird, and this is yours."
The sparrow pecked a few bites, then fluttered away.
Not long after, a plump pigeon flapped down in front of him.
"Human, you were looking for me?" The pigeon's voice was slow and thick.
Allen looked it over and shook his head.
"You're… still not big enough. Find me a bigger bird, and you'll be well rewarded."
The pigeon cooed and flew off.
A little later, a sudden gust of wind pressed down from the sky.
Allen looked up and saw a hawk diving down, its wingspan wider than a man—and in its talons, it tightly clutched that unfortunate pigeon.
The hawk landed on the wall and released its grip.
The pigeon dropped to the ground without moving, clearly long gone.
"Human." The hawk spoke, its voice deep and imposing.
"This king has heard that you are a god who grants wishes in the wild. Make a wish to you, and one will receive a reward."
Allen glanced at the innocent pigeon on the ground, the corner of his mouth twitching.
"Uh… you could say that. As long as you help me with a small favor, I'll grant you a wish."
The hawk's eyes lit up.
"No problem, human." It raised its head proudly. "This king desires the most dazzling feathers—to court a mate!"
Allen looked at its gray-brown plumage and nodded.
"No problem."
And just like that, the deal was made. Allen also gave the pigeon a… proper burial.
As for the hawk's wish—
That night, they quietly "borrowed" dye from a textile shop in the Dwarven District and painted the hawk a bright pink. Allen even left enough money in the shop as payment for the dye and labor.
...
Back to the present, that pink hawk now perched on Allen's shoulder, looking especially conspicuous under the moonlight.
Allen whispered a few words to it. It nodded, grabbed the front end of the grappling hook in its beak, and shot into the sky.
Wren tilted his head back, his sharp eyes locked onto the figure.
He saw the hawk fly to the very top of the castle, where Stormwind's lion banner snapped in the night wind. It circled the flagpole, wrapping the rope around it again and again.
In the end, it even used its beak and claws to tie a knot.
Wren's eyelid twitched.
…Is this really okay?
Wren turned his head and looked at Allen with envy.
So he really could talk to animals.
In that case, he was more suited to being a ranger than Wren himself.
"After you." Allen gestured.
Wren didn't hesitate. Grabbing the rope, he tested its stability, then leapt upward.
His figure, under the moonlight, was like a nimble cat, climbing rapidly along the rope.
Morgan went second.
Stella third.
Allen lingered until last.
He grabbed the rope and looked up at the towering wall, swallowing hard.
"I'm not afraid of heights," he muttered to himself. "I'm not afraid of heights. I have Feather Fall. Don't be afraid, don't be afraid…"
He took a deep breath and began climbing.
...
Inside Stormwind Keep, in the king's chambers, Varian lay in bed, his brow furrowed, tormented by endless nightmares.
He didn't know how long he had been in the darkness.
Everything before him was blood-red.
He stood in the throne room of Stormwind Keep.
On the throne sat a man.
His father.
Llane Wrynn.
Garona's dagger pierced his chest. Blood flowed down the throne, dripping onto the ground, gathering into a river.
"Father…"
A young Varian knelt before the throne, his hands covered in blood. The blood was warm and sticky, flowing through his fingers, impossible to wipe clean.
"You must…"
His father's voice came from afar, fragmented, like a dying flame in the wind.
"You must… become a worthy king… you must…"
"I can't!" Varian shouted, his voice full of fear. "I can't do it, Father! I can't!"
But his father's figure blurred, along with the throne and the blood, all fading into darkness.
Then he saw the day the orcs broke into Stormwind.
The walls collapsed, flames rose into the sky, and green-skinned monsters roared as they charged through the gates.
He saw himself being carried away, fleeing in panic from the burning city. Behind him was the destruction of his home, his father's kingdom, and countless lives.
"You must become a worthy king…"
His father's voice echoed again.
"You must…"
But another voice also rang out.
"Run. Run to somewhere safe. You can't do it. You're not capable—run, run far away…"
That was his own voice.
The weak self that had taken root in his heart on the day his father was assassinated.
All these years, that cowardly self had lurked deep within him, surfacing whenever he was alone, whenever he was tired, whenever he was afraid.
"No!" Varian gritted his teeth. "I won't run! I am Varian Wrynn! Even if I die here, I will never flee!"
But that cowardly self was just as resolute.
He felt himself splitting into two—one that wanted to fight, and one that only wanted to run.
"I…"
He returned to the throne room, lying helplessly on the ground, staring upward.
Above the throne room were stained-glass windows.
They originally depicted the glorious deeds of Stormwind's past kings.
But now, the images twisted.
They warped and shifted, constantly changing: green-skinned orcs, tentacled demons, and… a black dragon.
A massive black dragon coiled across the stained glass, its golden eyes staring straight at him.
They were laughing.
They were waiting for him to collapse.
They were waiting for him to become a coward.
"I…"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
A dull thudding sound came from above.
Varian looked up in confusion.
On the stained glass, the monstrous figures had disappeared, replaced by a blurry silhouette.
The figure stood outside the glass, shouting something at him.
The voice was muffled by the glass, distant and indistinct, like heard through water.
"…rian…"
"…wake… up…"
Who was it?
He was pressed against the glass, his mouth moving as he shouted something.
"…we're here… to save you… wake up!"
The voice came in fragments, but it grew clearer and clearer. Varian focused his mind, trying to make it out.
"…Knock… this window… why isn't it locked…?"
Varian saw the figure stand up.
"…whatever… just break it…"
Then the figure leapt high.
And kicked down—
BOOM—!!!
The stained glass shattered.
Countless colored fragments poured down like falling stars, glittering and spinning in the moonlight as they descended.
The rain of glass was like a dazzling storm, enveloping the entire throne room. The twisted monsters and crimson eyes all vanished with the shattering of the glass.
And that person—that figure—fell toward him amidst the storm of shards.
In the room, Varian finally opened his eyes.
Moonlight poured in through the broken window, illuminating the entire chamber.
A figure stood on the shattered window frame, backlit by the moon, face obscured. But that silhouette was unmistakable to Varian.
Allen Prestor.
He stood among the broken glass as the night wind rushed in, his cloak fluttering.
Moonlight outlined him in silver, and the scattered shards at his feet shimmered like stars—as if he had stepped down from them.
He steadied himself, brushed off the glass fragments on his clothes, and looked down at the man on the bed.
"You're finally awake. Get up already—Stormwind is about to turn upside down!"
Varian opened his mouth, about to speak.
From outside the window came Wren's voice: "Allen! Are you okay?!"
And Stella's small exclamation: "Wow! Our benefactor kicked the window to pieces!"
And Morgan's low mutter: "By the Light… this is the royal palace…"
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