Watching the Paladins, Dwarven riflemen, and High Elf mages divide into squads and charge with high morale into the dense forests at the foot of Mount Hyjal to purge the remaining demons, Rhodes nodded with satisfaction. The addition of this fresh force would undoubtedly accelerate the cleanup and minimize potential casualties for the Night Elf Sentinels.
However, after the main body of troops had departed, a group of High Elf mages approached. Their expressions were grim, clouded with deep sorrow. Instead of joining the hunt, they returned directly to Rhodes.
"What has happened, my kin? You look as though you've seen a ghost," Capurnia noted, immediately sensing the shift in their demeanor. The atmosphere had turned eerie; she wondered if more ill news had arrived from the Eastern Kingdoms.
"Lord Rhodes, Lord Uther, Lady Capurnia... we must solemnly inform you of a grave announcement. A few days ago, word arrived from Prince Kael'thas. Our people are no longer to be called High Elves. From this day forward, we shall be known as Blood Elves," one of the mages declared.
Rhodes felt a jolt of recognition. It seemed the news from the Eastern Kingdoms had finally caught up. Kael'thas had destroyed the Sunwell and renamed the race to honor their fallen kin.
"What? Why a name change? What has happened to Silvermoon?" Capurnia asked, her brow furrowing.
"Before Dalaran fell, Arthas struck Quel'Thalas. He murdered Ranger-General Sylvanas Windrunner. Silvermoon has fallen. A traitor named Dar'Khan betrayed our defenses. King Anasterian Sunstrider is dead, along with our finest mages and the warriors who guarded the Sunwell," the mage explained, his voice trembling.
"To resurrect the lich Kel'Thuzad, Arthas used foul magic to corrupt the Sunwell. The Prince had no choice but to destroy it. Our race has suffered an unimaginable catastrophe. Prince Kael'thas is now calling for all our people to return home and rejoin the Alliance."
The mage omitted certain details—such as the "sickness" spreading among their ranks. Deprived of the Sunwell's constant magical radiance, the elves were beginning to suffer.
While elite mages like those present could sustain themselves by tapping into Azeroth's natural ley lines, the common citizens—who had lived bathed in the Sunwell's power for millennia—were undergoing a terrifying withdrawal. Kael'thas had termed this condition Magic Withdrawal.
"Damn it... things are worse than we feared," Capurnia said, turning to Rhodes. "Rhodes, I'm afraid I can't accompany you on further adventures in Kalimdor. I must return to Quel'Thalas."
The sorceress seemed resolute, willing to leave even Rhodes—her temporary secret lover—to return to her people. Her stay hadn't just been about affection; she had been under orders from Kael'thas to assist him and was fascinated by his Fire Elemental scrolls. But now, with the survival of her race at stake, she had to go back to see the ruins of her home. The name "Blood Elf" carried the weight of vengeance and a race pushed to the brink.
"Don't worry, Lady Capurnia. If there is anything we can do to help, just say the word," Uther offered. As the representative of Lordaeron's military, and with Princess Calia present in Kalimdor, he felt a duty to their old allies.
"The Alliance will stand by you, Lady Capurnia," Jaina added warmly.
"I thank you all deeply," Capurnia said, taking a steadying breath. As the leader of this contingent, she was responsible for bringing them home safely.
"I can help by contacting the Goblins," Rhodes interjected. "I'll have them prepare a magical airship. We can be back in the Eastern Kingdoms in two weeks. I promised Kael'thas I would find him once humanity was settled here, and I intend to bring the Fire Elemental scrolls to him."
Rhodes was not one to break a promise. Furthermore, he knew the "Frozen Throne" chapter of history was about to begin. In the original timeline, Maiev would soon hunt Illidan across the sea to the Eastern Kingdoms, eventually crossing paths with Kael'thas and his beleaguered forces.
Rhodes also had his sights set on a certain "Grand Marshal" Garithos. Who do you think you are, Garithos? Calling yourself Grand Marshal—a title held by Sir Lothar? Rhodes intended to use his status as Prince Regent to strip that bigot of his command the moment he stepped foot back in Lordaeron. Garithos' racism and incompetence had essentially doomed the survivors of Lordaeron; Rhodes wouldn't let that happen again.
"Thank you, Rhodes. An airship would be far safer than a boat," Capurnia noted. A sea voyage could take months and was fraught with pirates, storms, and Naga.
"Lord Uther, please continue leading the cleanup near Mount Hyjal and Dustwallow. Once the immediate demon threat is neutralized, return to Princess Calia and remain as her personal guard," Rhodes instructed.
"Perhaps I should return to the Eastern Kingdoms with you," Uther suggested. "Now that the Legion is defeated, surely the Scourge is less of a threat."
"Lord Uther, it's not that simple," Rhodes sighed. "You saw it yourself on the front lines—the Scourge turned on the Legion. The Lich King has always planned to betray his masters. When I freed Illidan, I met Arthas. He leaked information about the Dreadlords specifically to sabotage the Legion. Now that they are free from demonic control, the Scourge will be more rampant than ever."
Rhodes knew the truth: the Legion force they defeated was an elite strike team, but the Scourge numbered in the hundreds of thousands—over 500,000 in the Eastern Kingdoms alone, not counting the main host in Northrend.
There was a reason "there must always be a Lich King." Even the combined might of the Alliance and Horde couldn't wipe out the sheer volume of undead. Rhodes had four Titans now, but he didn't have the numbers to wage a war of attrition against half a million zombies yet.
"You met Arthas!" Uther's grip tightened on his hammer. "You should have told us sooner. That traitor... one day, he will pay for what he has done in blood."