"This is why I asked you here, Your Majesty. To liberate the Goddess Azeroth, we must utilize a specific vital substance from your life force. Rest assured, this will not diminish your overall strength."
Freya's expression was grave as she revealed this crucial requirement. However, she omitted another detail: whether this act would tether the World Soul to the cosmic domain of Life. Every primal force has its apex beings: Order has the Titans; Chaos had no ruler until Sargeras; the Void has the Shadowlords; and Death has its own Pantheon—though their recent performance had been somewhat underwhelming.
Arthas furrowed his brow. He understood that these so-called "Primal Forces" were merely components of a larger power system. He held no personal allegiance to any of them—Death, Light, Chaos, or Order were, to him, simply tools.
Becoming a master of a Primal Force offered great power, but what if a World Soul's potential was higher? By binding her to a specific cosmic alignment, she would be trapped within that domain for eternity. To maintain their strength, such beings often resorted to inexplicable behaviors—like endless expansion and total war.
Closing his eyes, Arthas did not answer immediately. Instead, he focused his consciousness, attempting to establish a direct link with the World Soul. Lacking a specialized medium, he projected his massive psychic energy deep into the earth's crust, searching for her essence. Had she been in a deep slumber, he would have been helpless; you cannot force a connection if the other party doesn't "pick up the phone."
Freya did not rush him. She waited in silence, perhaps unaware of the ultimate consequences of her plan, knowing only that this was the path to freeing Azeroth from the World Chamber—her colossal planetary prison.
Fortunately, his call was answered. The voice that echoed back was faint and exhausted.
"Guardian Arthas... why have you sought me out?"
Thank heavens. Based on her tone, her condition was dire.
"I wanted to ask about Freya's plan," Arthas replied mentally. "She intends to use 'special life substances' to save you. Will this pull you into the domain of the Life Force? Every cosmic power wants you; your potential is so vast even Sargeras covets it."
After a short pause, Azeroth responded with a startling revelation.
"It will. She may not realize it, but this is likely the design of Eonar. She is the Titan of Life. We have met; she is a good person—a good person with her own agenda. You are currently extracting Yogg-Saron's soul power, yes? Funnel that refined Anima to me; I can use it to counteract the shift."
"If possible, help me collect energy from other Primal Forces as well. I need them to neutralize the influx so my core essence remains untainted. It will be a difficult task, but do not worry; I will ensure Freya assists you fully."
"For now, work with her to transfer me from the World Chamber back to the sacred site of Harandal. There, I can recuperate. The Burning Legion will not invade again; no army shall ever set foot on Azeroth again if I am free. Champion... I need your help."
Arthas made up his mind. As he suspected, there were hidden layers to this mission. He didn't blame Freya; she was a Titan construct. It was only because she possessed the spark of Life that she seemed more like a complete living being than the other Watchers. She was a pawn—one who didn't even realize the nature of the game she was playing.
"Understood. I'll handle the rest. But you mentioned Harandal—I don't know where that is."
This was a gap in his knowledge; he hadn't experienced the "War Within" yet. Nor was he particularly interested in Faerin Lothar, the "Sun-blackened" warrior of the Arathi. Dark-skinned beauties had their charm, but they weren't his type.
"Freya knows the way. You can trust her, but you must also use her. When the truth is revealed, she will understand. Do not tell her these secrets now; if her orders from the Pantheon conflict with our goals, she could become our enemy."
"Now, Champion, I must return to my slumber. The Chamber's machinery weighs heavily on me; I must sleep to resist their forced 're-origination.' I wish you luck. I hope to see you soon... goodbye."
Azeroth's voice faded until it was imperceptible. Her situation was precarious. Every cosmic faction was "leering" at her power, desperate to leave their mark on a blank-slate Titan.
One only had to look at the World Soul of Argus to see the result. He wasn't born a Titan of Death. The Eredar civilization that once thrived there was more advanced than Azeroth's, capable of interstellar travel. They followed the Arcane and the Light. Now, only Chaos and Death remained. Argus became a Death Titan because he was forcibly infused with that primal energy to better resurrect demons—allowing them to retain their memories and become elite veterans through endless cycles of war.
The communication ended. Arthas looked up at the Guardian before him.
"I'll do it. But once Azeroth is freed from the World Chamber, where do you plan to take her?"
Freya answered instantly; the plan was already set. "Back to her original cradle, Harandal. It is a vast subterranean realm. The deep world is inhabited by her original followers, the Haranir. They share a close ancestral bond with your wives, Tyrande and Azshara."
This was a secret known to few. Perhaps Azshara knew, but she would never admit it. The Haranir had split into two groups: one stayed underground, while the other followed the Goddess to the surface after the Titans arrived.
Over time, those on the surface evolved into the Trolls. Diverse environments led to diverse tribes. Because they were followers of the World Soul, they easily gained the favor of the Wild Gods—the beings Trolls call "Loa." Eventually, a tribe known as the Dark Trolls was drawn to the Well of Eternity. Nourished by the World Soul's blood, they evolved into the Night Elves.
Of course, the Highborne would never admit to this "ugly" ancestry, but the facts remained.
"Very well. When do we leave? The sooner we rescue the Goddess, the sooner we can rest. Constant warfare takes a toll on the mind."
Arthas was essentially lying through his teeth. When it came to the citizens of his empire, he wished everyone worked 24/7, with only one day off a week to consume goods and stimulate the economy. As for the idea of "men working while women stay home," he considered it nonsense. He established state-run nurseries and schools to handle education, ensuring loyalty to the Empire and freeing up the labor force.
Freya, unaware of the complexities of Lordaeron's socio-economics, simply nodded. "It won't take long to reach the Chamber—about a day. But I need you to stay with me inside for two to three months to help her break free. You have five days to arrange your affairs. Once we begin, please do not leave unless it is an absolute emergency."
"Five days then. We meet here."
The next five days were a blur for Arthas. He managed his administrative duties and made a trip to Kul Tiras to spend two days with Jaina. He left her with "hundreds of millions" of his "seeds" and personally settled the threat in Drustvar.
The threat there came from the Shadowlands. Lady Waycrest, in a desperate bid to save her dying husband, had made a pact with Gorak Tul. She created the Heartsbane Coven, using death magic to bind Drust souls to constructs. Arthas took Jaina and the daughter, Lucille Waycrest, to Waycrest Manor, where they put the mutated couple out of their misery.
He did not take Jandice, Ysera, Hela, or any of his other consorts to the World Chamber. Each received their "parting gift" in hopes of producing an heir. Even Vereesa stayed behind to oversee the works at Ulduar, though she too received a parting blessing and protection against soul intrusion.
By the time he met Freya, Jaina was left back in Kul Tiras, glowing but busy. She wasn't the only one; after meeting with Princess Tess Greymane and others, Arthas realized his "workload" was only going to increase once he returned from his business trip.
Near Jaina, a middle-aged noblewoman with snow-white hair and a face marked by time appeared. It was Aegwynn, the former Guardian and mother of Medivh.
"Jaina, the threat in Drustvar isn't entirely gone," Aegwynn noted. "The Coven is still active. We may need the help of the Night Elf Dryads and Druids to cleanse the corruption."
"Lucille can handle that," Jaina replied, her hand resting gently on her stomach. "I have more pressing concerns. There are signs that the Tidesages are hearing whispers from the Old Gods—I just don't know if they're coming from Northrend or Tanaris."
Jaina didn't care about the politics at that moment. She could feel a tiny life beginning to stir within her. It wasn't surprising; during the two days Arthas was in Kul Tiras, the region had been hit by freak lightning storms and massive tidal waves that curiously never damaged the ports. Such omens usually heralded the conception of a demigod's child—especially one blessed by the World Soul.
Wait, Jaina thought, the omens happened three or four times in two days... does that mean triplets? Or are there three or four other women pregnant right now?