Khadgar sighed, remembering his dream conversation with Antonidas. "I can believe it. I — wait. You said 'boats'?"

"Aye. They headed southwest, into the Great Sea."

Khadgar gripped Turalyon's tunic. "Southwest? Damn it!"

"What is it, Khadgar?"

"They're not running. The boats — they were head­ing for the Tomb of Sargeras! Gul'dan tried that once, and it killed him!"

"Why would the orcs do that? Medivh is dead and Sargeras is gone. The tomb's empty." His eyes widened slightly. " …Isn't it?"

It all clicked into place. "Sargeras is gone," Khadgar said slowly, "but that doesn't mean the tomb is empty. We know the orcs are seeking artifacts — what if Sar­geras left something there? The tomb was shielded so that no creature of Azeroth could enter — but the orcs were never from here! The wardings would mean noth­ing to them now; just as they meant nothing to Gul'dan when he — that's it. That's got to be it!"

Khadgar turned back to the death knight and dropped to his knees beside the creature.

"Why did Ner'zhul send orcs to the Tomb of Sar­geras?" he demanded. Gaz Soulripper laughed, foul breath from dead lungs caressing Khadgar's face. He'd pulled tightly into himself in the few moments of respite and was not about to say anything. Khadgar frowned. He extended his magic once again, this time without any effort at finesse, and the illumination of his spell was like a lance to the creature's forehead. Soulripper arched in agony, but stayed silent.

"Tell us!"

"We — care nothing for your world!" Soulripper grunted, his hands clenching.

Khadgar made a subtle move with his fingers, and this time Gaz Soulripper cried out. "I need better than that."

"Ah!" The dead thing bit its lip in pain, teeth sinking easily through rotted flesh. "Our destiny — greater than you can imagine, human!"

Khadgar's heart sped up. These half-truths, these hints… What was the reality? Sweat dotted his fore­head, but not from exertion. He tightened his grip, and the death knight convulsed.

"Khadgar …" said Turalyon, wincing a little.

"I can keep this up all day, Soulripper," Khadgar said. When there was no response, Khadgar lifted his left hand to join his right.

"An artifact!" the death knight screamed. "From the tomb. The Scepter of Sargeras."

"That's better. What about it?"

"W-with that, the Book of Medivh, and the Eye of Dalaran, Ner'zhul can — no!"

Khadgar was surprised at the level of resistance the death knight could put up. He shared Turalyon's dis­taste of torture, but they were so close… .

"What can he do? Tell us!"

"He — he can open portals from Draenor to other worlds."

Khadgar immediately ceased tormenting the death knight, who flopped over, groveling in recovery. He sat, stunned for a moment, then looked up at Turalyon. He saw his own horror mirrored in the youth's face.

“Other… worlds?” Turalyon said, his voice faint with shock. "Azeroth and Draenor… aren't the only ones?" He stared down at the death knight, his mouth working for a moment before anything came out. “Worlds… more than ours. Worlds without end, in­nocents without number falling before them… Light save us."

Khadgar nodded. "I know it's difficult to grasp. The Horde we've faced was half-crazed with desperation and hunger. Their world is dying, and they needed to take ours. Now they're going to open portals to count­less other worlds as well. This same scenario will be re­peated again… and again and again."

Turalyon barely heard his friends words. They seemed to fade away, smothered by the thudding of his own heart in his ears. The hideous visage of the death knight, too, was fading, drowning in a slow but steady glow of white light that seemed to be coming from in­side the paladin's own head.

He burned to protect his people — the Alliance — all life on this world from the havoc that the ever-hunger­ing orcs had chosen to wreak. That seemed daunting enough, but now — worlds! Just how many were they talking about, anyway — one? Two? Two million?

Hysteria bubbled up inside him as he sat in the white, empty space and danced on the verge of madness as he tried to comprehend the incomprehensible. The inno­cent were his charge. He had to protect them. But how could he possibly do so? So many who —

The pounding of his heart suddenly paused.

And in that place of pure, brilliant light, he saw a fig­ure that was light — the Light — itself. It hovered and glowed, gleaming as if its form was hard and crystalline but also soft, unspeakably soft, as soft as a tear, as soft as forgiveness, as soft as Alleria's pale skin. Golden strands draped the being, and Turalyon could not tell at first if they were leading from or to the creature — and then he understood, it was both. All that was, was this being, and this being, was everything. Awe flooded him and he drank in the sight of this beautiful, lumi­nous being, feeling it fill him with hope and calm as if he were an empty vessel.

Do not despair, came a voice like bells, like chimes, like the sigh of the ocean. The Light is with you. We are with you. No matter how vast the darkness, Light will scat­ter it. No matter what world, no matter what creature, the Light is there, in that place, in that soul. Know this, and go forward with a joyful heart, Turalyon.

As if it sang in response, Turalyon's heart began to beat once more. He realized it had never stopped; that the long, frozen, rapt moment had been less than the blink of an eye.

Khadgar gave Turalyon the space to let it sink in. Finally, Turalyon lifted his head. His eyes were focused, clear, and his face was resolute.

"We have to stop them," Turalyon stated firmly. "We can't let other, innocent worlds have this… this… unleashed on them. It ends here. On Azeroth. No one else should have to suffer as we have. The Light shines on other worlds than ours, and it needs our help. It will have it."

Khadgar heard some resentful murmurings from some of Turalyon's men. Turalyon heard it too, for he stood, frowning.

"If you have something to say, say it clearly," he or­dered. The soldiers who'd been talking exchanged glances, then one stepped up.

"Sir… why don't we just let them go? If they have fresh worlds to take, maybe they'll just go away and leave us alone."

"Even if it were that simple, we can't let that hap­pen. Don't you understand?" Turalyon said. "We have to stop them. We can't save our world at the expense of countless innocent lives!"

"Besides," came Alleria's clear voice as she strode up to them, dusty and sweaty and spattered with blood too dark to be her own, "what is to stop them from re­turning once they have gotten fat off plunder?” With her sharp sense of hearing, of course, she’d heard everything. Khadgar thought her a trifle paler than usual, but she was almost eerily composed. Would you like to battle a Horde twice the size of the one we faced during the Second War, completely united, and with the ability to open portals to Azeroth from any­where?"

Khadgar saw the disappointment in Turalyon's eyes. The paladin had hoped the men would understand his point. And more, he'd hoped Alleria would. But it seemed that Alleria was still consumed with hatred for the orcs. She did not really care about other worlds. She wanted to hunt the orcs down and kill them her­self; she had no wish to let others share that particular cruel delight. She turned to Turalyon, and color rose briefly in her face, then subsided.

"Sir, while we were fighting, I saw something I think you should be aware of. We noticed a group of . . ."

Khadgar was barely listening to her musical voice. Something else was nagging at his thoughts… some­thing was not right. He gasped as understanding burst upon him.

"I'm an idiot!" Khadgar cried, cutting Alleria off in mid-sentence. "They're not losing!" he shouted. "They're retreating! They've found all the artifacts they needed and they're returning home to Draenor! The entire invasion was just a feint to distract us, and now they're done!"