Warcraft: Unity: Stormcaller - 3/8+Epilogue
I was going to post this at noon and got completely distracted... so sorry. Here you go!
Title: Unity: Stormcaller
Part: 3/8+Epilogue
Word Count: 5163
Includes: Spoilers for the Bonus Orc Campaign, character death, violence, strong language.
Pairings: Implied Thrall/Jaina, Jaina/OMC.
Summary: During the Late Winter of the 27th year after the opening of the Dark Portal, something dark and sinister calls terrible storms to lash the coast of Kalimdor, its source seemingly Jaina's old home: Kul Tiras. Vowing to do what is right, rather than take an easier path, Jaina returns home to speak to her estranged family and protect her family, her allies, and her own people from the Stormcaller.
Previous: Unity Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11
Stormcaller Chapters: 1 2
On the far side of the den, shapes approached them, rapid and near-silent on the stone. Jaina’s gun was in her hand in an instant as two huge, hulking figures moved towards them rapidly, their inhuman, reptilian features set in a grimace. Each was armed with a polearm, the shaft steel and the head made of jagged coral and shell, and their arms were massive, muscular, and covered in scales.
Jaina fired at the first, and her shot spanged off of one of the dozens of necklaces and chains adorning the creature’s neck. Jaina cursed softly, and switched to a spell. The creature shrank immediately, and Tandred shot at the second creature, even as the first, now a crab, crawled over his fallen trident, frustrated and disoriented.
“What, you aren’t going to try negotiating with these ones?” Tandred demanded, and stepped towards the hulking creature. Jaina gritted her teeth in anger.
“These are the Sea Witch’s bodyguards, they’re naga,” Jaina told him, briefly watching as he fought the warrior before seeking out one of the sorceresses in the back. Much of naga sorcery tended to relate to the powers of water and storm. This spellcaster used the power of lightning to strike her foes and Jaina knew she had to take care.
They’re all but incapable of using their powers under water, so they’re even angrier than usual while on land, she thought, and felt the enemy sorceress gather power. Concentrating, she felt the intent of the spell as it wove itself together and clamped down on it, ripping out the middle pieces. Stunned, the sorceress slithered forward uncertainly. Before she could draw the bow in one of her four hands, Jaina shot the naga in the neck twice, and she choked and fell.
She heard her brother grunt and turned to him. He had the naga warrior down, stabbing between pieces of jewelry expertly. I wonder what he’s imagining he’s fighting instead? An image flickered through Jaina’s mind in a flash, bright green skin replacing deep blue scales, and she turned from him, focusing on the next wave of naga.
They came again, forced to come at Jaina and Tandred slowly due to the narrow corridor, and she fought. She had fought countless times before. Duels between students, on her travels through Lordaeron on errands… the entire trip from Kalimdor’s shores to Hyjal had been nothing but battle.
Her brother, too, had not been idle, and he fought as though he were on a ship during a boarding action: he would knock opponents down and keep them there, using height advantage and upper body strength born of years at sea to hack and chop and trample. She would have learned to fight the same way if she had stayed, or used swiftness and agility to outfox opponents, running them into others in close quarters.
Instead she knew not to give ground to charging enemies. She knew how to judge distance, aim, and fire in moments. The delicate work she’d done to modify her gun while she’d still been a student of Dalaran allowed her to reload seamlessly, allowing her a continuous stream of fire, though she picked her shots carefully.
Magic floated around her, as half-broken symbols, as expended energy, as gleaming, shivering pieces of ice and glass, digging into the fabric of reality and tearing. Apprehension pulled at her as the last sorceress collapsed, heaping with the others, and Tandred drove his sword down into the crab, killing it even as it turned back to a warrior, trying desperately to die with a weapon in its hand.
“Something’s wrong,” Jaina said, eying the naga warrior. Tandred didn’t remove his sword, instead taking his revolver and firing twice into the back of the naga’s skull. He looked at her, and wiped green-blue blood from his cheek.
“You don’t say,” her brother said sarcastically, and pulled his saber from the dead naga’s spine. “What gave you that idea?”
Jaina ignored his tone, and answered the question instead. “The fabric of reality is thin here, weakened. There’s no reason why this little skirmish should have created rents unless reality’s weft was already extremely weak. We need to find the source of this before it gets worse, and the little holes become huge rifts.”
“What does that mean, in Tiran?” Tandred demanded, though he was already moving, pushing and kicking the dead naga aside. Jaina reached into her sleeve and summoned a tiny vial from her lab to her hand. She stood at his side, and held up a hand to him. Tandred made a face, but nodded. Jaina opened the vial and, very carefully, sprinkled a few drops of clear liquid onto one of the bodies. It raced across the corpse, turning it grey before it dissolved into ash.
Tandred whistled softly, nudging at the ash with his boot. “Is that safe?”
“Good job, asking that after you touch it,” Jaina murmured, and moved to the next. Each body was cared for in the same way, and the scent of ash and dust made her nose itch. She raised her hands, summoning snow and icy rain to wash the ash away. “Yes, it’s safe once it reaches ash form. Don’t let it touch your skin otherwise. You will very likely die.”
“What is it?” Tandred asked, uneasy. Jaina capped the vial and put it back in her sleeve, sending it back from whence it came, a rack of vials in her lab, all with similar use and purpose.
“Ash-water,” Jaina said, and headed towards the far corridor. “I developed it after I realized it would be incredibly impractical to find fuel to burn every dead body we’d accumulate during battle. Pyres are all well and good for usual deaths, but unusual ones, not so much.”
“Why burn them at all?” Tandred asked, following Jaina, though he kept his voice down now as they hurried deeper and deeper into the catacombs. “They’re not infected with the plague.”
“There are plenty of reasons to burn corpses,” Jaina pointed out. “Necromancers can raise the dead as lesser creatures, skeletons or zombies. They’re not particularly intelligent, but they’re horrifying to those unused to them, and are useful enough as fodder. They can be used to feed greater undead that feast on corpses, or as spare parts to replace battle damage. Dead bodies, left untended, spread illness and disease. They stink, and burying them takes up a great deal of land that can be better served for people or preserving natural habitat. Memorials can be made no larger than a brick, and you can fit a person’s ashes in a container the same size.”
“That’s not returning to Mother Ocean,” Tandred said flatly, and Jaina’s back stiffened.
“No, it’s not,” she replied. “As for your other question, from before, what it means in Tiran is that if we don’t find the source of all of this magic and these storms, we could experience an invasion from another plane of existence.”
“Well, we’re used to those,” Tandred muttered, and grunted as he nearly ran into Jaina when she stopped. “What?”
“No, we’re not ‘used’ to invasions,” Jaina said, her voice hard. “We’ve simply dealt with each of them, at the cost of lives. We need to stop this one before it starts.”
“I’m not saying that we don’t,” Tandred growled. “I’m just saying it’s happened before.”
“Not like this, I suspect,” Jaina replied and hurried on. Thrall would take me seriously, he’d… understand. He knows what incursions do, he’s dealt with them before. Tandred’s grown hard and soft by turns.
Her brother fell silent, and his brooding anger only nettled her further now that battle was done, and seething anger moved through her veins instead of adrenaline. The tunnels were even more narrow than before, slowing their progress even as they tried to hurry. As it grew darker, Jaina nudged more magic into the glowing ball that lit the way, peeking around corridors like a thoughtful scout.
It was difficult to say how long they’d been underground, the one disadvantage of continuous night. Jaina thought that it might have been an hour all told, with the conversations, arguments, and battle, and now the seemingly endless wandering. Tandred had once again lapsed into silence, and Jaina’s tongue was stilled by anger that fizzled and popped close to the surface.
We can’t afford to start fighting again, not now, Jaina thought as she rounded another corridor. As she walked, she could hear, between steps, dripping water. Her eyes widened and she held up a hand to halt her brother, and in response, the ball dimmed. She recited another spell silently, and her ears began to glow purple, evoking a soft curse from Tandred, though her ears picked up every nuance of the phrase, the accent hiding behind years of practice, the very pieces of the accents and dialects spoken by every person he’d ever heard speak.
I need to adjust that, Jaina thought as she listened. The dripping was loud, crisp and clear, distinct around the sound of her own heartbeat and Tandred’s breathing. Softer than the dripping, she could hear hissing and chanting, the rush of moving water, and the soft, soft chime of summoned magic. She deactivated the spell. “It’s just ahead.”
“Ready for it?” Tandred asked, and drew his saber again, and held his revolver in his left hand, fingers flexing around the grip. Briefly, Jaina smiled, summoning her gun to her right hand, and drawing out her staff from her sleeve, calling it from her workshop. Her staff was long and slender, designed to help her channel her magic through the expertly crafted crystal that topped it.
Jaina went around the corner first, and stopped short, and Tandred nearly rammed into her as she took in the sight: in the middle of the largest chamber in the catacombs was a small lake, and in the centre of it, an altar had been created. The altar was low and wide, composed of stone and shell, gleaming brightly even in the dim light. At its centre, the core and the heart of the storms, was a blue pearl, about the size of a fist and flawless as it shimmered, throwing light everywhere. Behind the altar was the Sea Witch, though she seemed entirely absorbed in her task.
“Jaina, move,” Tandred growled as she stared, and she took a half step aside. He struggled past her, pushing into the room and looking around. “What is that?”
“Incredible…” Jaina murmured, her eyes growing wide. It’s one thing to read about it, but another to see it. It certainly explains both the nature of the storms and the thinning of the barrier between planes--
“What is?” Tandred demanded. “What’s incredible?”
“It’s a powerful artifact,” Jaina explained, not taking her eyes from the altar. “How could she have gotten it, as far as I know its use is limited to--”
“Jaina Rhiannon Proudmoore, will you explain what that damned thing actually is?!” Tandred cried, and his voice echoed through the chamber. The Sea Witch’s gaze snapped up, staring at both of them. The naga’s silver eyes narrowed as her lips twisted into a grimace, and she placed one webbed hand on the blue pearl, pointing at them with the other three.
“Shit,” Jaina commented as she felt power surge around her. “Duck!”
Tandred dove to the side as a huge wave rose and crested from the still lake, and Jaina jumped the other way. The water crashed against the entrance and as one, the Proudmoore siblings began to fire. Tandred’s heavier, higher-caliber shot struck the Witch’s huge, watery shield, splashing and swirling as it slowed and stopped, while Jaina’s smaller bullets did little more than faintly ripple the water, and Jaina gritted her teeth in frustration.
Do I have enough of the fire ones to evaporate the shield? she wondered as she moved closer to the Witch, and Tandred skirted the edge of the lake to move towards the altar on the other side. They’re harder to make, and will it make a difference if she’s drawing on the Stone?
Jaina had recognized it, of course: the Stone of the Tides, an artifact spoken of in whispers by the trolls, such as the Darkspear, written about by mages with an interest in Zandalari legends, such as Archmage Runeweaver, and which appealed to young aspiring mages who enjoyed pissing off their peers, such as herself. Even in the hands of the untrained, it was dangerous, capable of summoning up huge walls of water to crash down on charging warriors, and the odds of the Sea Witch being untrained were poor, to say the least.
We need to pour on the attacks, Jaina thought as she passed her hand over her gun, casting a spell to reload it with the fire-enchanted bullets. Break her hold on the Stone, get her away from it somehow. She aimed and fired, watching her brother approach, his gun down and sword out. No, that won't work at all. "Tandred, fire!"
"Don't teach your grandfather to stitch silk," Tandred retorted. He raised his gun to fire at the Sea Witch, the weapon booming. The Witch, forewarned, raised her shield again, doing little other than annoying her.
Jaina cursed softly as she approached. Tandred's never done much with spellcasters, she thought. And I can manage sorcery, but this is elemental magic. If only Thrall were here, a shaman would be very useful, or Vol'jin might be able to wrest the Stone away from--! Jaina's eyes widened, and she fired again, evaporating a fist-sized hole in the shield, though it flowed back into place after a moment.
Tandred fired again, advancing fast. Jaina made a noise of frustration, and hastened to get closer. He's moving in too fast, what is he doing?! When his revolver clicked empty, he charged towards the shield, swinging hard.
"No!" Jaina cried as Tandred connected with the shield, his arm slowing, and then stopping. Even from where she stood, she could see the quick, cruel smile that quirked on the Sea Witch’s lips, and the way her brother's eyes widened as the shield flexed and flung him back, clear across the cavern to strike the wall and sink down. No!
"You're next, little girl," the naga hissed, shifting her attention to Jaina. Jaina felt cold and prickling and angry as she forced herself to look at her opponent, and not her brother.
"I've fought worse," Jaina said, shifting her grip on her staff and striking the ground with it. Where the staff touched stone, a summoning circle bloomed from it, tracing out the arcane symbols that called out to the elemental plane of water. "Bluey!"
Water in droplets rose from the symbol as though raining in reverse. The droplets shimmered and gathered in mid air, forming into a blobby shape, its only true distinctive features a pair of deep-set eyes as green as the deepest, darkest sea. "Jaina! Oh no!" The elemental's voice was high and childish, and it quivered as the Stone tugged at it. "What's going on? It's calling to me!"
"Get Tandred, stop him from drowning, and hurry," Jaina urged. "I don't need you to fight her, just save little Urchin."
The water elemental burbled with agreement and dove into the water, flowing as quickly as an ocean current. Jaina took a breath, and raised her staff again. I had hoped to save my power and keep it close, but now I need it. She took a deep breath, and let cold flood over her.
Kael had once described his magic as being like a bonfire, hot and dangerous and thrilling. Kylian's, like music, dancing to the beat only he could hear. She had always had an affinity with ice, and it came easily to her now, drawing not on anger, but on all of the discipline she'd had drilled into her. Fear might cause her to falter. Anger, to lose control. She was an archmage, and she would not allow a mere Witch, no matter how powerful, to stop her.
Ice shards formed in the air, hanging there as they spun up as large as swords and then hurtled down towards the shield. The Sea Witch flung the first back, and the second, but the third sliced through her shield and into one of the naga's arms, causing her to bleed blue-green. She hissed in anger, and drew on the Stone again. Power shivered through the air as she flung a wave at Jaina, who countered by creating a huge spike of ice in the ocean which split the wave around her, splashing her and striking the cavern walls harmlessly. Soaked, she grimaced.
If I can just get closer... Jaina thought, and conjured more ice, aiming not for the naga, but now for the altar. Or if I can...
The Sea Witch hissed in anger, pointing with an uninjured arm at the icicle and shattering it into pieces. The water of the lake began to churn with the half-shaped forms of elementals, water and air, throwing up foam and a strong scent of salt. Jaina cried out in anger, and from the storm of ice and snow came a thin strike of lightning, cracking loudly as it struck the naga's shield, causing it to ripple violently.
The lake continued to swirl.
I can't let her finish that spell, Jaina thought frantically. We'll drown and we'll die, and I have far too much paperwork to finish back home to just leave it! Gripping her staff more tightly, she pressed power into the whirling storm, flinging ice at the naga witch. She needs to let go of the Stone and even the scales.
The naga snarled at her, hissing and spitting in burbling, vicious Nazja. "Interfering human! You will be destr--"
“Ah, clam it, you big snake!” Tandred shot out of the lake, encased in water. Jaina could see Bluey’s eyes hovering just above Tandred’s own, and realized with a start that they were perfectly matched. The naga witch hissed, her focus shifting for a fraction of a moment. Jaina saw her chance, and spun the swirling blizzard into a single, huge speartip of gleaming, sharpened ice, driving it down.
The naga’s shield gleamed once before it buckled, popping like a bubble. Jaina’s icicle shattered into a billion, billion fragments, sending a shower of ice chips everywhere. She grasped for her power as it flowed through her, making her cold, coating her with ice and snow and water and wind and--
Tandred hit the Sea Witch shoulder first, tackling her bodily and knocking her away from the Stone by a full body length. They both hit the wet, slippery ground with a crunch and a slap. Immediately, Tandred grappled at her, punching her in the stomach and the sides as she scratched at him with four webbed hands, each movement slightly weaker than the last.
I have to hurry, Jaina thought, and raised her hand. The icicle that formed was palm shape and flew from her swiftly and surely, aimed not towards her brother or the hissing, writhing naga, but towards the altar. It struck the Stone of the Tides hard, and the ice shattered as it freed it, hurling it from the low, stone slab and into the water.
“No!” the naga cried angrily, and threw Tandred from her. He was airborne briefly before Bluey’s arms shot out, digging his hands into the ground to slow and cushion her brother’s fall. As the Stone sank, the water seemed to explode, hurling itself upwards in all directions. Bluey flowed away from Tandred as though he had been drained, and her brother rested on his hands and knees, coughing up water and clinging to his weapons with abraded knuckles, reddened from the salt water.
All around her, Jaina could feel the magic, once building to a crescendo of power and destruction, shatter. She pulled all of her magic in tight, wrapping it around her as a protective, icy casing and waited.
Released from the Sea Witch’s iron, scaley grip, the lake’s occupants had merged together into an elemental of storm and anger. It reminded her of Bluey, in many ways, but without her childhood friend’s kindness and with all of the anger of the Maelstrom. It advanced on the naga with murder cresting through it, and Jaina knew she needed, once again, to hurry.
Jaina hurled herself forward, using magic to skip steps, carrying herself across the distance to the base of the altar. She turned to the elemental and held out both arms. Within the elemental, she could see the Stone of the Tides, pulsing like a heart. “Wait!”
The elemental looked down at Jaina, a tidal wall peering at a schooner, and paused. “Why?” it asked, its voice as childlike as Bluey’s, but holding darkness and depth.
“I have a question to ask,” Jaina replied, keeping her voice firm, and looking up into its face. “You are free now, and safe.”
The elemental seemed to consider, lightning crackling along massive, watery fists. It was unbound, as Bluey was. No enchanted shackles to confine its power and shape. No wards to prevent a caster from freezing or drowning or being electrocuted. This was how elementals came to shamans, raw and real. Jaina felt its power and was elated, her heart racing, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. Even as she knew it would likely destroy her, stop her heart and freeze her solid, she wanted to reach for it, to touch it and feel that endless depth of oceanic power in the moment before she died. “We will wait.”
She felt a hand touch her shoulder, squeezing it, and it drew her from the elemental’s gaze. She shook her head a few times, clearing it. I wonder if that’s how shamans feel when they call on the elements… and why they tend to pass out swiftly when they’re done. She turned to the naga, who stared at her. “Are you the Sea Witch that lorded over the Darkspear trolls on their island?”
The naga blinked at her, and then laughed harshly. “Did the weaklings find purchase on the shores?” she asked in return. “I still taste Sen’jin’s blood on my lips.”
“Think that’s a yes,” Tandred muttered in her ear, and Jaina flicked her fingers at him. “Why did you come here?”
“A strong affinity for sea and storm,” the Sea Witch replied, struggling to rise. Tandred started towards her, and elemental water swirled and rolled, looping around the Witch before either could say anything. Jaina didn’t argue. “As well as isolated and private. Too many have gone to Kalimdor of late.”
“It’s our home, we live there,” Jaina said. She licked her lips, tasting salt and frost. “Why are you doing this? What purpose does it serve?”
The Sea Witch laughed again, long and loud, her voice echoing even as the elemental water creeped closer to her face. “The bargain has been sealed,” she replied, and the water stilled briefly. “The Queen demands her due. You stop me here and the waters will rise elsewhere until Stormrage keeps his promise.”
Illidan, Jaina thought, her temper suddenly clenching tight. Tyrande said that he bargained with the naga and had them as allies… but Illidan fled Azeroth. He’s not coming back, assuming he survived the battle in Northrend at all. “Azshara will be waiting a long time if she thinks Illidan is ever going to help her again. No more questions.”
The naga’s eyes widened, first with anger, then denial, and the water moved, flowing over her, digging into her eyes like fingers and her mouth like probing tentacles.
“You shouldn’t watch, this will be violent,” Jaina said, clenching her jaw. The Sea Witch thrashed, tail slapping against the stone as she struggled.
“Neither should you,” Tandred muttered, though Jaina did not look to see what her brother did. Instead, she was fixed on this moment, brutal and terrible and deserved all at once: water flowed into the Sea Witch in an endless stream as the force she had enslaved and bent to her will, unchained and unleashed, took its vengeance. The water filled her, even as her scales and fins began to smoulder from countless tiny lightning strikes. She struggled and choked, clawing at a surface that gave no resistance. It may as well have been air, as far as the naga was concerned.
The moment seemed to stretch forever as, from moment to moment, the Sea Witch weakened, stripped of her resistance as her arms slowly dropped and her tail stilled. It’s over, Jaina thought. She’s dead. I’ll use the ash-water and then we can go--
The naga Sea Witch exploded in a shower of ichor and gore as the elementals tore her from the inside out.
Jaina threw up a shield to protect herself and Tandred, blood splashing from the half-dome of ice, even as her brother raised one arm to cover his eyes.
“I thought you weren’t going to watch?” Jaina asked, shaking as she dismissed the shield. Water gathered around the cavern, flowing back towards the now-empty lake to fill it. Tandred slowly lowered his hand, checking his gun for damage before holstering it, then sheathed his sword.
“I thought you weren’t,” he countered, and they both turned towards the lake. Jaina squared her shoulders as best she could, and let her staff rest against the stone floor. She was tired, but resolute, and it loosened her tongue.
“You can’t shy away from the consequences of your actions, no matter what they might be,” she replied. “Especially if the result is distasteful.” Her brother fell silent, having little to say to that. They watched in silence as the water reformed into the single, great elemental, fists sparking, though it was missing something. The Stone, she thought, and cast about, looking for it.
The Stone of the Tides had come to rest once again on the Sea Witch’s altar, centered as if placed on the spattered shells. Jaina made her way to it, finding her movements stiff from salt water and cold. She reached out to take the pearl, bracing herself against its power: in her mind’s eye, she could see an ocean. Not one but many, the mother of all oceans, spanning the whole of a world. All the ground had been swallowed, every continent, every snow capped mountain and gleaming desert. Volcanoes were extinguished, inert beneath the ocean waves, and the air was filled with moisture. No wind blew, no animals that could not swim existed. All was ocean, all was water.
The Stone promised power, so much power. Nothing would stand against her. She would have no enemies, none that couldn’t be swept away and swallowed by the sea. They would respect her, fear her, quail at her anger. None would question her as she stood astride the world, a sea of power with no shore, the Mother of All Oceans herself.
“Jaina?” Tandred called softly. “You’re snowing.”
Was she? She couldn’t tell, all she could see was the pearl. Be logical, she told herself. Think of the consequences. She had arguments with friends and people she loved. With Kael, with Arthas, even with Thrall, though that was rarer. She had arguments with Tervosh and Rylai about the wards, Tesoran and Ariana about Theramore’s laws, and her family about a dozen things, foolish or otherwise. Diplomacy was about arguing politely. Diplomacy with Varian, less so, but it was about arguing.
In her mind, she pushed back the vision and saw the truth of it: there was no ground to grow friendships when the ocean salted it. It was infertile, barren as rocks, and lonely. An island with no people, no story, no future. Only a pounded, empty shore. People were not islands. They were kingdoms, they were friendships, they were arguments and laughter and pain and joy. They were love. She focused all of her will and spoke directly to the Stone.
No, Jaina told it firmly, wrapping her magic around the word to give it strength. No. Stop that. We are not flooding this world, or any other world. Behave yourself.
It seemed, for a moment, as though the Stone would ignore her. She spun her power around her, forming it into a shard of ice that grew into an iceberg, floating on the water, strong and untouchable, but as much of water as the Stone was.
The vision receded, and as though it weighed nothing, Jaina lifted it from the altar, and brushed the snow from it lightly. “I believe this belongs to you,” she said to the elemental, and walked around the altar, offering it the pearl.
The elemental stared at it, and then peered at Jaina. “This belongs to Neptulon, Lord of the Abyssal Depths,” it said at length, and Jaina shivered briefly. She had read of the elemental lords, knew of the damage they were capable of. Anyone who had studied the War of Three Hammers and the devastation caused by the Firelord would. “It is not for us to claim. It has passed from one set of mortal hands to the next, and when the time is right, this little pearl will return to the seas and claim another.”
“It seems that time is now,” Jaina pointed out. “The Sea Witch is dead, and the Stone unclaimed.”
“It is not so,” the elemental said, and Bluey’s voice was distinct in Jaina’s ears, as though he were telling her this by himself. “The naga woman stole it and used it for her own ends, but the pearl allowed her to bring it here, to this place. It was not meant for her hands, Jaina Proudmoore. It was meant for yours.”
Jaina blinked once, then twice. The vision rose again, briefly, and then fell as Jaina gripped at her iceberg firmly. “There are legends of those who have used the Stone of the Tides. Champions, capable of great feats. One by one, they returned to the sea, taking the Stone with them. Will that happen to me some day?”
The elemental began to shrink. “The pearl will return to the sea. It is its nature. It ebbs, flows and ebbs again. It is not the pearl’s will to determine who returns to the first waters, but they who hold the pearl itself.”
Jaina nodded slowly, and thought briefly, carefully, of the vision. “I understand.”
This seemed to satisfy the elemental as it sank into the lake, and after a few moments, the lake was still and calm. Bluey appeared by Jaina’s side, bubbling with worry. Jaina shifted her grip on the pearl, and reached out to pet Bluey’s wet head in comfort.
“Oh, good, so glad one of us does,” Tandred commented sourly.
Jaina traced a series of runes over the pearl. It flared briefly, and then sat inert in her hand. She sighed in relief as pressure she hadn’t realized she was feeling released. She tucked the Stone into one of her sleeves, keeping it close.
“Jaina, just throw the damned thing away. All it’ll do is cause trouble, no matter who’s using it. People with unnatural powers.” Tandred flicked his fingers towards the place where the Sea Witch had breathed her last.
Jaina stroked her fingers against the stone, controlling her temper easily. “People like me, you mean?” she asked, her voice falsely patient. Tandred opened his mouth and then closed it. Their eyes met for a moment, and he looked away. As he did so, she walked out of the cavern and back into the corridor.
[ Chapter 4]
Title: Unity: Stormcaller
Part: 3/8+Epilogue
Word Count: 5163
Includes: Spoilers for the Bonus Orc Campaign, character death, violence, strong language.
Pairings: Implied Thrall/Jaina, Jaina/OMC.
Summary: During the Late Winter of the 27th year after the opening of the Dark Portal, something dark and sinister calls terrible storms to lash the coast of Kalimdor, its source seemingly Jaina's old home: Kul Tiras. Vowing to do what is right, rather than take an easier path, Jaina returns home to speak to her estranged family and protect her family, her allies, and her own people from the Stormcaller.
Previous: Unity Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11
Stormcaller Chapters: 1 2
On the far side of the den, shapes approached them, rapid and near-silent on the stone. Jaina’s gun was in her hand in an instant as two huge, hulking figures moved towards them rapidly, their inhuman, reptilian features set in a grimace. Each was armed with a polearm, the shaft steel and the head made of jagged coral and shell, and their arms were massive, muscular, and covered in scales.
Jaina fired at the first, and her shot spanged off of one of the dozens of necklaces and chains adorning the creature’s neck. Jaina cursed softly, and switched to a spell. The creature shrank immediately, and Tandred shot at the second creature, even as the first, now a crab, crawled over his fallen trident, frustrated and disoriented.
“What, you aren’t going to try negotiating with these ones?” Tandred demanded, and stepped towards the hulking creature. Jaina gritted her teeth in anger.
“These are the Sea Witch’s bodyguards, they’re naga,” Jaina told him, briefly watching as he fought the warrior before seeking out one of the sorceresses in the back. Much of naga sorcery tended to relate to the powers of water and storm. This spellcaster used the power of lightning to strike her foes and Jaina knew she had to take care.
They’re all but incapable of using their powers under water, so they’re even angrier than usual while on land, she thought, and felt the enemy sorceress gather power. Concentrating, she felt the intent of the spell as it wove itself together and clamped down on it, ripping out the middle pieces. Stunned, the sorceress slithered forward uncertainly. Before she could draw the bow in one of her four hands, Jaina shot the naga in the neck twice, and she choked and fell.
She heard her brother grunt and turned to him. He had the naga warrior down, stabbing between pieces of jewelry expertly. I wonder what he’s imagining he’s fighting instead? An image flickered through Jaina’s mind in a flash, bright green skin replacing deep blue scales, and she turned from him, focusing on the next wave of naga.
They came again, forced to come at Jaina and Tandred slowly due to the narrow corridor, and she fought. She had fought countless times before. Duels between students, on her travels through Lordaeron on errands… the entire trip from Kalimdor’s shores to Hyjal had been nothing but battle.
Her brother, too, had not been idle, and he fought as though he were on a ship during a boarding action: he would knock opponents down and keep them there, using height advantage and upper body strength born of years at sea to hack and chop and trample. She would have learned to fight the same way if she had stayed, or used swiftness and agility to outfox opponents, running them into others in close quarters.
Instead she knew not to give ground to charging enemies. She knew how to judge distance, aim, and fire in moments. The delicate work she’d done to modify her gun while she’d still been a student of Dalaran allowed her to reload seamlessly, allowing her a continuous stream of fire, though she picked her shots carefully.
Magic floated around her, as half-broken symbols, as expended energy, as gleaming, shivering pieces of ice and glass, digging into the fabric of reality and tearing. Apprehension pulled at her as the last sorceress collapsed, heaping with the others, and Tandred drove his sword down into the crab, killing it even as it turned back to a warrior, trying desperately to die with a weapon in its hand.
“Something’s wrong,” Jaina said, eying the naga warrior. Tandred didn’t remove his sword, instead taking his revolver and firing twice into the back of the naga’s skull. He looked at her, and wiped green-blue blood from his cheek.
“You don’t say,” her brother said sarcastically, and pulled his saber from the dead naga’s spine. “What gave you that idea?”
Jaina ignored his tone, and answered the question instead. “The fabric of reality is thin here, weakened. There’s no reason why this little skirmish should have created rents unless reality’s weft was already extremely weak. We need to find the source of this before it gets worse, and the little holes become huge rifts.”
“What does that mean, in Tiran?” Tandred demanded, though he was already moving, pushing and kicking the dead naga aside. Jaina reached into her sleeve and summoned a tiny vial from her lab to her hand. She stood at his side, and held up a hand to him. Tandred made a face, but nodded. Jaina opened the vial and, very carefully, sprinkled a few drops of clear liquid onto one of the bodies. It raced across the corpse, turning it grey before it dissolved into ash.
Tandred whistled softly, nudging at the ash with his boot. “Is that safe?”
“Good job, asking that after you touch it,” Jaina murmured, and moved to the next. Each body was cared for in the same way, and the scent of ash and dust made her nose itch. She raised her hands, summoning snow and icy rain to wash the ash away. “Yes, it’s safe once it reaches ash form. Don’t let it touch your skin otherwise. You will very likely die.”
“What is it?” Tandred asked, uneasy. Jaina capped the vial and put it back in her sleeve, sending it back from whence it came, a rack of vials in her lab, all with similar use and purpose.
“Ash-water,” Jaina said, and headed towards the far corridor. “I developed it after I realized it would be incredibly impractical to find fuel to burn every dead body we’d accumulate during battle. Pyres are all well and good for usual deaths, but unusual ones, not so much.”
“Why burn them at all?” Tandred asked, following Jaina, though he kept his voice down now as they hurried deeper and deeper into the catacombs. “They’re not infected with the plague.”
“There are plenty of reasons to burn corpses,” Jaina pointed out. “Necromancers can raise the dead as lesser creatures, skeletons or zombies. They’re not particularly intelligent, but they’re horrifying to those unused to them, and are useful enough as fodder. They can be used to feed greater undead that feast on corpses, or as spare parts to replace battle damage. Dead bodies, left untended, spread illness and disease. They stink, and burying them takes up a great deal of land that can be better served for people or preserving natural habitat. Memorials can be made no larger than a brick, and you can fit a person’s ashes in a container the same size.”
“That’s not returning to Mother Ocean,” Tandred said flatly, and Jaina’s back stiffened.
“No, it’s not,” she replied. “As for your other question, from before, what it means in Tiran is that if we don’t find the source of all of this magic and these storms, we could experience an invasion from another plane of existence.”
“Well, we’re used to those,” Tandred muttered, and grunted as he nearly ran into Jaina when she stopped. “What?”
“No, we’re not ‘used’ to invasions,” Jaina said, her voice hard. “We’ve simply dealt with each of them, at the cost of lives. We need to stop this one before it starts.”
“I’m not saying that we don’t,” Tandred growled. “I’m just saying it’s happened before.”
“Not like this, I suspect,” Jaina replied and hurried on. Thrall would take me seriously, he’d… understand. He knows what incursions do, he’s dealt with them before. Tandred’s grown hard and soft by turns.
Her brother fell silent, and his brooding anger only nettled her further now that battle was done, and seething anger moved through her veins instead of adrenaline. The tunnels were even more narrow than before, slowing their progress even as they tried to hurry. As it grew darker, Jaina nudged more magic into the glowing ball that lit the way, peeking around corridors like a thoughtful scout.
It was difficult to say how long they’d been underground, the one disadvantage of continuous night. Jaina thought that it might have been an hour all told, with the conversations, arguments, and battle, and now the seemingly endless wandering. Tandred had once again lapsed into silence, and Jaina’s tongue was stilled by anger that fizzled and popped close to the surface.
We can’t afford to start fighting again, not now, Jaina thought as she rounded another corridor. As she walked, she could hear, between steps, dripping water. Her eyes widened and she held up a hand to halt her brother, and in response, the ball dimmed. She recited another spell silently, and her ears began to glow purple, evoking a soft curse from Tandred, though her ears picked up every nuance of the phrase, the accent hiding behind years of practice, the very pieces of the accents and dialects spoken by every person he’d ever heard speak.
I need to adjust that, Jaina thought as she listened. The dripping was loud, crisp and clear, distinct around the sound of her own heartbeat and Tandred’s breathing. Softer than the dripping, she could hear hissing and chanting, the rush of moving water, and the soft, soft chime of summoned magic. She deactivated the spell. “It’s just ahead.”
“Ready for it?” Tandred asked, and drew his saber again, and held his revolver in his left hand, fingers flexing around the grip. Briefly, Jaina smiled, summoning her gun to her right hand, and drawing out her staff from her sleeve, calling it from her workshop. Her staff was long and slender, designed to help her channel her magic through the expertly crafted crystal that topped it.
Jaina went around the corner first, and stopped short, and Tandred nearly rammed into her as she took in the sight: in the middle of the largest chamber in the catacombs was a small lake, and in the centre of it, an altar had been created. The altar was low and wide, composed of stone and shell, gleaming brightly even in the dim light. At its centre, the core and the heart of the storms, was a blue pearl, about the size of a fist and flawless as it shimmered, throwing light everywhere. Behind the altar was the Sea Witch, though she seemed entirely absorbed in her task.
“Jaina, move,” Tandred growled as she stared, and she took a half step aside. He struggled past her, pushing into the room and looking around. “What is that?”
“Incredible…” Jaina murmured, her eyes growing wide. It’s one thing to read about it, but another to see it. It certainly explains both the nature of the storms and the thinning of the barrier between planes--
“What is?” Tandred demanded. “What’s incredible?”
“It’s a powerful artifact,” Jaina explained, not taking her eyes from the altar. “How could she have gotten it, as far as I know its use is limited to--”
“Jaina Rhiannon Proudmoore, will you explain what that damned thing actually is?!” Tandred cried, and his voice echoed through the chamber. The Sea Witch’s gaze snapped up, staring at both of them. The naga’s silver eyes narrowed as her lips twisted into a grimace, and she placed one webbed hand on the blue pearl, pointing at them with the other three.
“Shit,” Jaina commented as she felt power surge around her. “Duck!”
Tandred dove to the side as a huge wave rose and crested from the still lake, and Jaina jumped the other way. The water crashed against the entrance and as one, the Proudmoore siblings began to fire. Tandred’s heavier, higher-caliber shot struck the Witch’s huge, watery shield, splashing and swirling as it slowed and stopped, while Jaina’s smaller bullets did little more than faintly ripple the water, and Jaina gritted her teeth in frustration.
Do I have enough of the fire ones to evaporate the shield? she wondered as she moved closer to the Witch, and Tandred skirted the edge of the lake to move towards the altar on the other side. They’re harder to make, and will it make a difference if she’s drawing on the Stone?
Jaina had recognized it, of course: the Stone of the Tides, an artifact spoken of in whispers by the trolls, such as the Darkspear, written about by mages with an interest in Zandalari legends, such as Archmage Runeweaver, and which appealed to young aspiring mages who enjoyed pissing off their peers, such as herself. Even in the hands of the untrained, it was dangerous, capable of summoning up huge walls of water to crash down on charging warriors, and the odds of the Sea Witch being untrained were poor, to say the least.
We need to pour on the attacks, Jaina thought as she passed her hand over her gun, casting a spell to reload it with the fire-enchanted bullets. Break her hold on the Stone, get her away from it somehow. She aimed and fired, watching her brother approach, his gun down and sword out. No, that won't work at all. "Tandred, fire!"
"Don't teach your grandfather to stitch silk," Tandred retorted. He raised his gun to fire at the Sea Witch, the weapon booming. The Witch, forewarned, raised her shield again, doing little other than annoying her.
Jaina cursed softly as she approached. Tandred's never done much with spellcasters, she thought. And I can manage sorcery, but this is elemental magic. If only Thrall were here, a shaman would be very useful, or Vol'jin might be able to wrest the Stone away from--! Jaina's eyes widened, and she fired again, evaporating a fist-sized hole in the shield, though it flowed back into place after a moment.
Tandred fired again, advancing fast. Jaina made a noise of frustration, and hastened to get closer. He's moving in too fast, what is he doing?! When his revolver clicked empty, he charged towards the shield, swinging hard.
"No!" Jaina cried as Tandred connected with the shield, his arm slowing, and then stopping. Even from where she stood, she could see the quick, cruel smile that quirked on the Sea Witch’s lips, and the way her brother's eyes widened as the shield flexed and flung him back, clear across the cavern to strike the wall and sink down. No!
"You're next, little girl," the naga hissed, shifting her attention to Jaina. Jaina felt cold and prickling and angry as she forced herself to look at her opponent, and not her brother.
"I've fought worse," Jaina said, shifting her grip on her staff and striking the ground with it. Where the staff touched stone, a summoning circle bloomed from it, tracing out the arcane symbols that called out to the elemental plane of water. "Bluey!"
Water in droplets rose from the symbol as though raining in reverse. The droplets shimmered and gathered in mid air, forming into a blobby shape, its only true distinctive features a pair of deep-set eyes as green as the deepest, darkest sea. "Jaina! Oh no!" The elemental's voice was high and childish, and it quivered as the Stone tugged at it. "What's going on? It's calling to me!"
"Get Tandred, stop him from drowning, and hurry," Jaina urged. "I don't need you to fight her, just save little Urchin."
The water elemental burbled with agreement and dove into the water, flowing as quickly as an ocean current. Jaina took a breath, and raised her staff again. I had hoped to save my power and keep it close, but now I need it. She took a deep breath, and let cold flood over her.
Kael had once described his magic as being like a bonfire, hot and dangerous and thrilling. Kylian's, like music, dancing to the beat only he could hear. She had always had an affinity with ice, and it came easily to her now, drawing not on anger, but on all of the discipline she'd had drilled into her. Fear might cause her to falter. Anger, to lose control. She was an archmage, and she would not allow a mere Witch, no matter how powerful, to stop her.
Ice shards formed in the air, hanging there as they spun up as large as swords and then hurtled down towards the shield. The Sea Witch flung the first back, and the second, but the third sliced through her shield and into one of the naga's arms, causing her to bleed blue-green. She hissed in anger, and drew on the Stone again. Power shivered through the air as she flung a wave at Jaina, who countered by creating a huge spike of ice in the ocean which split the wave around her, splashing her and striking the cavern walls harmlessly. Soaked, she grimaced.
If I can just get closer... Jaina thought, and conjured more ice, aiming not for the naga, but now for the altar. Or if I can...
The Sea Witch hissed in anger, pointing with an uninjured arm at the icicle and shattering it into pieces. The water of the lake began to churn with the half-shaped forms of elementals, water and air, throwing up foam and a strong scent of salt. Jaina cried out in anger, and from the storm of ice and snow came a thin strike of lightning, cracking loudly as it struck the naga's shield, causing it to ripple violently.
The lake continued to swirl.
I can't let her finish that spell, Jaina thought frantically. We'll drown and we'll die, and I have far too much paperwork to finish back home to just leave it! Gripping her staff more tightly, she pressed power into the whirling storm, flinging ice at the naga witch. She needs to let go of the Stone and even the scales.
The naga snarled at her, hissing and spitting in burbling, vicious Nazja. "Interfering human! You will be destr--"
“Ah, clam it, you big snake!” Tandred shot out of the lake, encased in water. Jaina could see Bluey’s eyes hovering just above Tandred’s own, and realized with a start that they were perfectly matched. The naga witch hissed, her focus shifting for a fraction of a moment. Jaina saw her chance, and spun the swirling blizzard into a single, huge speartip of gleaming, sharpened ice, driving it down.
The naga’s shield gleamed once before it buckled, popping like a bubble. Jaina’s icicle shattered into a billion, billion fragments, sending a shower of ice chips everywhere. She grasped for her power as it flowed through her, making her cold, coating her with ice and snow and water and wind and--
Tandred hit the Sea Witch shoulder first, tackling her bodily and knocking her away from the Stone by a full body length. They both hit the wet, slippery ground with a crunch and a slap. Immediately, Tandred grappled at her, punching her in the stomach and the sides as she scratched at him with four webbed hands, each movement slightly weaker than the last.
I have to hurry, Jaina thought, and raised her hand. The icicle that formed was palm shape and flew from her swiftly and surely, aimed not towards her brother or the hissing, writhing naga, but towards the altar. It struck the Stone of the Tides hard, and the ice shattered as it freed it, hurling it from the low, stone slab and into the water.
“No!” the naga cried angrily, and threw Tandred from her. He was airborne briefly before Bluey’s arms shot out, digging his hands into the ground to slow and cushion her brother’s fall. As the Stone sank, the water seemed to explode, hurling itself upwards in all directions. Bluey flowed away from Tandred as though he had been drained, and her brother rested on his hands and knees, coughing up water and clinging to his weapons with abraded knuckles, reddened from the salt water.
All around her, Jaina could feel the magic, once building to a crescendo of power and destruction, shatter. She pulled all of her magic in tight, wrapping it around her as a protective, icy casing and waited.
Released from the Sea Witch’s iron, scaley grip, the lake’s occupants had merged together into an elemental of storm and anger. It reminded her of Bluey, in many ways, but without her childhood friend’s kindness and with all of the anger of the Maelstrom. It advanced on the naga with murder cresting through it, and Jaina knew she needed, once again, to hurry.
Jaina hurled herself forward, using magic to skip steps, carrying herself across the distance to the base of the altar. She turned to the elemental and held out both arms. Within the elemental, she could see the Stone of the Tides, pulsing like a heart. “Wait!”
The elemental looked down at Jaina, a tidal wall peering at a schooner, and paused. “Why?” it asked, its voice as childlike as Bluey’s, but holding darkness and depth.
“I have a question to ask,” Jaina replied, keeping her voice firm, and looking up into its face. “You are free now, and safe.”
The elemental seemed to consider, lightning crackling along massive, watery fists. It was unbound, as Bluey was. No enchanted shackles to confine its power and shape. No wards to prevent a caster from freezing or drowning or being electrocuted. This was how elementals came to shamans, raw and real. Jaina felt its power and was elated, her heart racing, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. Even as she knew it would likely destroy her, stop her heart and freeze her solid, she wanted to reach for it, to touch it and feel that endless depth of oceanic power in the moment before she died. “We will wait.”
She felt a hand touch her shoulder, squeezing it, and it drew her from the elemental’s gaze. She shook her head a few times, clearing it. I wonder if that’s how shamans feel when they call on the elements… and why they tend to pass out swiftly when they’re done. She turned to the naga, who stared at her. “Are you the Sea Witch that lorded over the Darkspear trolls on their island?”
The naga blinked at her, and then laughed harshly. “Did the weaklings find purchase on the shores?” she asked in return. “I still taste Sen’jin’s blood on my lips.”
“Think that’s a yes,” Tandred muttered in her ear, and Jaina flicked her fingers at him. “Why did you come here?”
“A strong affinity for sea and storm,” the Sea Witch replied, struggling to rise. Tandred started towards her, and elemental water swirled and rolled, looping around the Witch before either could say anything. Jaina didn’t argue. “As well as isolated and private. Too many have gone to Kalimdor of late.”
“It’s our home, we live there,” Jaina said. She licked her lips, tasting salt and frost. “Why are you doing this? What purpose does it serve?”
The Sea Witch laughed again, long and loud, her voice echoing even as the elemental water creeped closer to her face. “The bargain has been sealed,” she replied, and the water stilled briefly. “The Queen demands her due. You stop me here and the waters will rise elsewhere until Stormrage keeps his promise.”
Illidan, Jaina thought, her temper suddenly clenching tight. Tyrande said that he bargained with the naga and had them as allies… but Illidan fled Azeroth. He’s not coming back, assuming he survived the battle in Northrend at all. “Azshara will be waiting a long time if she thinks Illidan is ever going to help her again. No more questions.”
The naga’s eyes widened, first with anger, then denial, and the water moved, flowing over her, digging into her eyes like fingers and her mouth like probing tentacles.
“You shouldn’t watch, this will be violent,” Jaina said, clenching her jaw. The Sea Witch thrashed, tail slapping against the stone as she struggled.
“Neither should you,” Tandred muttered, though Jaina did not look to see what her brother did. Instead, she was fixed on this moment, brutal and terrible and deserved all at once: water flowed into the Sea Witch in an endless stream as the force she had enslaved and bent to her will, unchained and unleashed, took its vengeance. The water filled her, even as her scales and fins began to smoulder from countless tiny lightning strikes. She struggled and choked, clawing at a surface that gave no resistance. It may as well have been air, as far as the naga was concerned.
The moment seemed to stretch forever as, from moment to moment, the Sea Witch weakened, stripped of her resistance as her arms slowly dropped and her tail stilled. It’s over, Jaina thought. She’s dead. I’ll use the ash-water and then we can go--
The naga Sea Witch exploded in a shower of ichor and gore as the elementals tore her from the inside out.
Jaina threw up a shield to protect herself and Tandred, blood splashing from the half-dome of ice, even as her brother raised one arm to cover his eyes.
“I thought you weren’t going to watch?” Jaina asked, shaking as she dismissed the shield. Water gathered around the cavern, flowing back towards the now-empty lake to fill it. Tandred slowly lowered his hand, checking his gun for damage before holstering it, then sheathed his sword.
“I thought you weren’t,” he countered, and they both turned towards the lake. Jaina squared her shoulders as best she could, and let her staff rest against the stone floor. She was tired, but resolute, and it loosened her tongue.
“You can’t shy away from the consequences of your actions, no matter what they might be,” she replied. “Especially if the result is distasteful.” Her brother fell silent, having little to say to that. They watched in silence as the water reformed into the single, great elemental, fists sparking, though it was missing something. The Stone, she thought, and cast about, looking for it.
The Stone of the Tides had come to rest once again on the Sea Witch’s altar, centered as if placed on the spattered shells. Jaina made her way to it, finding her movements stiff from salt water and cold. She reached out to take the pearl, bracing herself against its power: in her mind’s eye, she could see an ocean. Not one but many, the mother of all oceans, spanning the whole of a world. All the ground had been swallowed, every continent, every snow capped mountain and gleaming desert. Volcanoes were extinguished, inert beneath the ocean waves, and the air was filled with moisture. No wind blew, no animals that could not swim existed. All was ocean, all was water.
The Stone promised power, so much power. Nothing would stand against her. She would have no enemies, none that couldn’t be swept away and swallowed by the sea. They would respect her, fear her, quail at her anger. None would question her as she stood astride the world, a sea of power with no shore, the Mother of All Oceans herself.
“Jaina?” Tandred called softly. “You’re snowing.”
Was she? She couldn’t tell, all she could see was the pearl. Be logical, she told herself. Think of the consequences. She had arguments with friends and people she loved. With Kael, with Arthas, even with Thrall, though that was rarer. She had arguments with Tervosh and Rylai about the wards, Tesoran and Ariana about Theramore’s laws, and her family about a dozen things, foolish or otherwise. Diplomacy was about arguing politely. Diplomacy with Varian, less so, but it was about arguing.
In her mind, she pushed back the vision and saw the truth of it: there was no ground to grow friendships when the ocean salted it. It was infertile, barren as rocks, and lonely. An island with no people, no story, no future. Only a pounded, empty shore. People were not islands. They were kingdoms, they were friendships, they were arguments and laughter and pain and joy. They were love. She focused all of her will and spoke directly to the Stone.
No, Jaina told it firmly, wrapping her magic around the word to give it strength. No. Stop that. We are not flooding this world, or any other world. Behave yourself.
It seemed, for a moment, as though the Stone would ignore her. She spun her power around her, forming it into a shard of ice that grew into an iceberg, floating on the water, strong and untouchable, but as much of water as the Stone was.
The vision receded, and as though it weighed nothing, Jaina lifted it from the altar, and brushed the snow from it lightly. “I believe this belongs to you,” she said to the elemental, and walked around the altar, offering it the pearl.
The elemental stared at it, and then peered at Jaina. “This belongs to Neptulon, Lord of the Abyssal Depths,” it said at length, and Jaina shivered briefly. She had read of the elemental lords, knew of the damage they were capable of. Anyone who had studied the War of Three Hammers and the devastation caused by the Firelord would. “It is not for us to claim. It has passed from one set of mortal hands to the next, and when the time is right, this little pearl will return to the seas and claim another.”
“It seems that time is now,” Jaina pointed out. “The Sea Witch is dead, and the Stone unclaimed.”
“It is not so,” the elemental said, and Bluey’s voice was distinct in Jaina’s ears, as though he were telling her this by himself. “The naga woman stole it and used it for her own ends, but the pearl allowed her to bring it here, to this place. It was not meant for her hands, Jaina Proudmoore. It was meant for yours.”
Jaina blinked once, then twice. The vision rose again, briefly, and then fell as Jaina gripped at her iceberg firmly. “There are legends of those who have used the Stone of the Tides. Champions, capable of great feats. One by one, they returned to the sea, taking the Stone with them. Will that happen to me some day?”
The elemental began to shrink. “The pearl will return to the sea. It is its nature. It ebbs, flows and ebbs again. It is not the pearl’s will to determine who returns to the first waters, but they who hold the pearl itself.”
Jaina nodded slowly, and thought briefly, carefully, of the vision. “I understand.”
This seemed to satisfy the elemental as it sank into the lake, and after a few moments, the lake was still and calm. Bluey appeared by Jaina’s side, bubbling with worry. Jaina shifted her grip on the pearl, and reached out to pet Bluey’s wet head in comfort.
“Oh, good, so glad one of us does,” Tandred commented sourly.
Jaina traced a series of runes over the pearl. It flared briefly, and then sat inert in her hand. She sighed in relief as pressure she hadn’t realized she was feeling released. She tucked the Stone into one of her sleeves, keeping it close.
“Jaina, just throw the damned thing away. All it’ll do is cause trouble, no matter who’s using it. People with unnatural powers.” Tandred flicked his fingers towards the place where the Sea Witch had breathed her last.
Jaina stroked her fingers against the stone, controlling her temper easily. “People like me, you mean?” she asked, her voice falsely patient. Tandred opened his mouth and then closed it. Their eyes met for a moment, and he looked away. As he did so, she walked out of the cavern and back into the corridor.
[ Chapter 4]