When the Goddess Azeroth heard his question, a strange expression crossed her exquisite face. She tilted her head slightly, looking at him with a gaze that was both adorable and endearingly naive.
"Where did you hear such news? Surely not from those tales spun by traveling bards?"
"I can tell you with absolute certainty: none of those things you fear will happen. From the moment I gained consciousness, this world has always been this way. Its evolution depends on the actions of the races dwelling upon it. I do not interfere, and now that you are here, I have even less reason to worry about anything else."
"Can you put your mind at ease now? Good. You may ask me any other questions you have, and I will answer them to clear your doubts. You were right—as consorts, we should have no secrets from one another."
These were indeed words Arthas had spoken before: those closest to each other should never hide anything; it was best to speak one's doubts aloud. There was no need to fear causing offense. Hesitating to speak, or speaking without receiving feedback, only served to damage a relationship.
"Very well. I have one more question," Arthas said. "What exactly do you need me to do? Collect the six Primal Forces? How does that benefit you?"
The Goddess was quite satisfied with his attitude. She didn't fear questions; she feared the silence that masked hidden agendas.
"I do need you to collect the six Primal Forces—vast quantities of each. Mortal beings are largely unaware of them, though those with a modicum of power recognize the concept. However, neither mortals nor top-tier entities like the Titans know that above the six Primal Forces, there exists a Seventh Force!"
Seeing Arthas sink into contemplation, she let out a light, playful laugh. It was hard to imagine this was the most mysterious World Soul in existence. She was not a cold, distant goddess or an unfeeling supreme being, but rather a charmingly spirited young soul.
Power aside, she was essentially a newborn. It was just that some beings are born as ants, struggling their entire lives only to become slightly stronger ants. Others are born at the apex of the universe, reaching heights without effort that an ant can only look upon with awe.
"The Seventh Force?"
"Yes. A power higher than the six, and the source from which they all spring. The six forces exist in pairs: Light and Void, Order and Chaos, Life and Death. When one force reaches its absolute extreme, it begins to transform into its opposite, forming a cycle."
"When Light fades, it becomes Darkness; when Darkness reaches its deepest point, Light is reborn. From Death comes new Life; when Life reaches its end, it enters Death. Order is born from the wake of Chaos; yet, if Order remains stagnant for too long, it becomes a dead pool that eventually triggers Chaos once more."
"The Seventh Force is the power I command. This is why the Pantheon sought to turn me into a member of Order. It would have weakened my true power, though even then, neither the Burning Legion nor Sargeras would have been a match for me. I am not content to be one of them; I am meant to be far more powerful."
She spoke calmly, without the anger one might expect from someone who had essentially been kidnapped from her cradle. Her tone was steady, devoid of resentment.
Listening to secrets far beyond his usual reach, Arthas felt both a curiosity for the cosmic "gossip" and a sense of sadness for her misfortune. Unknowingly, he felt himself becoming one with her; her burdens were his, and he knew she would stand by him in return.
"Do you not resent the Pantheon for what they did? In my eyes, it is unforgivable."
Arthas asked tentatively. Given his nature, if someone crossed him, he would retaliate ruthlessly. Much like his treatment of Ner'zhul—not only would the soul be annihilated, but the entire Shadowmoon Clan would be uprooted.
As for the Horde's opposition? The Horde was currently blockaded to the point of near-extinction. Huge numbers of Orcs were fleeing to serve as mercenaries or laborers for Lordaeron. Without gold or grain, talk of "Blood and Honor" meant little. No one was going to stick their neck out for Ner'zhul's clan while the Warsong Clan—now allied with Lordaeron—lived in luxury with new clothes and full bellies.
The Goddess Azeroth let out a disdainful, perhaps even slightly cruel, smile.
"Resentment? A little, perhaps. But they have received their punishment. Aman'Thul believed he could see all of time and that everything was within his grasp. He never expected your arrival to shatter his vision. He will likely continue to suffer for a long time. Hahaha!"
Her laughter was a bit frenzied, a stark contrast to her earlier gentle demeanor—a glimpse of a "mad beauty."
"I can feel their souls enduring torment. They are being punished, and no one is coming to save them. Besides... I am also using them."
"This prison collects the Primal energy from across the world, satisfying my need for the six forces. But it is not enough. You likely find me a bit... what is the word? Neurotic?"
She spoke with total candor, truly treating Arthas as a confidant. She knew her own state and saw no reason to hide it from her consort.
"The six Primal Forces are not inherently 'good.' To wield their power is to have one's personality altered accordingly: the cold logic of Order, the madness of Chaos, the zealotry of Light, the greed of the Void, the cruelty of Death, and the pity of Life."
"When my own balance of forces is disrupted, these traits manifest. That is why I need you to help me balance them. Furthermore, I need Anima—vast quantities of it—to act as a medium for neutralization. Now, do you have any more questions?"
"No," Arthas replied, his doubts cleared. "Tell me what I must do."
"You don't need to do anything special," the Goddess said, bowing slightly to emphasize her perfect form—a sight no one could refuse. "You just need to be my consort here for a while. It may be difficult, or it may be very enjoyable. I have never been a wife before; if I fall short, you must guide me."
Three months passed in the blink of an eye.
When Arthas finally left, his steps were somewhat unsteady. He had to rest for a long while just to recover his energy.
Upon exiting the World Chamber and returning to the surface, he was met by Lady Vashj. She had returned to her Highborne form, her silver hair shimmering, and her midsection was slightly rounded with new life.
"Master, you've returned. Is everything well?"
"I'm fine," Arthas said, taking her hand. "And you?"
Vashj looked down at her stomach with a maternal glow. "I am well. Her Majesty Azshara and the other mistresses are also well. They are all with child and have been eagerly awaiting your return."
"Then let's go home."
Arthas opened an Arcane portal and led Vashj back to the King's Manor in the City of Hope. All his consorts were there, including Azshara.
The moment he returned, even a woman as wise as Tyrande was moved to tears. They had feared he had gone on another world-saving mission—a noble pursuit, but one fraught with risk. They wanted a hero for a husband, but they didn't want their husband to have to be a hero anymore.
After a long while of comforting his wives, Arthas felt a different kind of exhaustion.
"Daddy!"
A playful voice rang out, and a figure blurred into his arms. It was his eldest daughter, Shandris. She had been moody every day he was gone, fearing she had lost her father again just after finding him.
"Shandris, you've grown taller! Don't worry, Daddy isn't going anywhere. I'll stay here with you and your mothers. Soon, you'll have many brothers and sisters to help look after!"
A wave of tenderness washed over him. After all the struggle in the outside world, coming home to a hot meal and his family was the best life he could imagine. He had truly taken root here. He was home.
"Really? Don't tease me, Daddy, or I'll cry!" Shandris laughed through her tears.
"I promise. Now, I'm starving—help prepare a feast. And here, this is for you."
Arthas pulled out a beautifully wrapped gift box. Shandris opened it carefully to find a massive, glowing orb of Anima.
"Daddy, what is this?"
"This is Anima. A very special kind."
As Arthas placed the orb on Shandris, it merged into her body. Instantly, the world outside erupted: birds sang in chorus, plants surged from the earth, and giant waves at the shore rose hundreds of feet high, twisting into a beautiful dance.
Tyrande looked on in shock. "Husband... what is happening?"
"Our daughter has become a demigod," Arthas said with a proud laugh. "Nature itself is celebrating. Even the elements are cheering for her. She won't ever have to worry about a thing now—she's the treasure of treasures."
Arthas had transcended the level of a demigod and entered the realm of a True God—one who, like Elune, possessed the authority to bestow life and power.
"What? A demigod!" Tyrande gasped. If he could promote their daughter so casually, just how powerful had her husband become?
Shandris felt her senses sharpen, feeling a profound kinship with the world. "Daddy, this gift is too valuable. You should have saved it for my brothers and sisters."
Arthas ruffled her hair. "There will be enough for them too, when the time comes. Everyone's path is different. Whether they are powerful or ordinary, I only want you all to love one another. Even if you choose a quiet life, that is far better than a wicked heart."
"I'll leave your siblings' education to you and your aunt. I have to look after your mothers."
Laughter filled the manor as they looked toward a bright future. With Arthas's strength as their shield, every day seemed to get better.
"Alright, let's all sit down," Arthas said, basking in the warmth of his family. "I've been gone a long time. Tell me—has anything interesting happened while I was away?"