With the solemn duty fulfilled, Galen watched as Malfurion's still form was borne away by a contingent of somber druids, destined for the tranquil embrace of Moonglade. He turned, intending to depart Darnassus alone, leaving the hushed reverence of the druids behind.
However, his solitary exit was not to be. At the dusty threshold of Rut'theran Village, a formidable line of Priestesses of the Moon, led by the unwavering Tyrande, stood as an elegant barricade.
This was a sisterhood of moonlight incarnate. Their silver-threaded robes shimmered with an ethereal luminescence, pooling around their ankles like liquid starlight. Slender, teardrop-shaped silver chains, anchoring to the center of their corsets, cascaded down their lithe forms, ending near the scabbards that rested at their hips. Quivers, filled with fletched moonlight, sat neatly upon their backs. Their graceful stances and fluid movements hinted at a deadly proficiency, not only with their ranged weapons but also in the silent language of close combat.
"Tyrande," Galen's voice was level, betraying none of the urgency he felt, "what is it you require of me?"
Tyrande stepped forward, leaving the phalanx of priestesses to consciously recede, forming a silent, watchful circle. The unspoken command ensured the privacy of the two leaders. "I will be brief, Galen. Ten millennia have driven a wedge between us."
Her gaze, as she tilted her head slightly, held a complex, almost vulnerable quality. "You stand as the sole pillar of hope I can now grasp. Malfurion's trust in you is absolute. Our shared history, our friendship… these are not forgotten. Tell me truthfully, Galen, what slender thread of chance remains to pull Malfurion back from the abyss?"
Beneath the surface of her regal composure, Galen sensed a tremor of fear. Fear that his resolve might waver, fear that her beloved Malfurion would be lost to the encroaching darkness.
"I will exhaust every possibility," Galen stated, his gaze unwavering in its sincerity.
Tyrande held his gaze for a long moment, her expression unreadable, before finally turning her eyes away. In the long span of ten thousand years, their paths had intersected more through shared purpose than daily companionship. Yet, Tyrande had come to recognize the core of Galen's being. He was a force of immense power, yes, but one tempered by a profound understanding of the greater balance. And crucially, he was a man of his word, imbued with a deep, perhaps unexpected, compassion.
Compassionate? The realization struck Tyrande with almost comical force. Galen Lema, the leader who guided millions, possessed a tender heart. The weight of ten millennia of leadership had reshaped Tyrande, forging the gentle priestess into a seasoned politician. Perhaps Galen, like Malfurion in his long slumbers, had remained largely unchanged. Ten thousand years might be a blink in their timeless existence, a mere nap. They were still the ardent youths who had defied the Burning Legion during the War of the Ancients. Only she had truly transformed.
A sigh of relief escaped her lips. "I believe you, Galen."
The High Priestess reached out, her hand resting briefly on his shoulder. A soft, opalescent light bloomed from her touch, swiftly enveloping Galen before seeping into his very being. "You carry the blessing of the Moon Mother… may it guide your passage through the Emerald Dream."
A surge of warmth coursed through Galen, a tangible infusion of divine power. He felt the subtle constraints on his mid-demigod rank momentarily loosen. This was a true blessing from Elune herself, channeled through her chosen daughter. A fleeting thought crossed his mind – the preciousness of this gift. To expend it merely on Xavius would be a terrible waste.
With a final nod to Tyrande and the silent ranks of priestesses, Galen shifted, his form coalescing into that of a majestic gray eagle. With powerful beats of his wings, he ascended, disappearing into the vast expanse of the sea under their watchful gazes.
A sudden flash of white light, and Galen was no longer soaring above the waves but standing within the familiar embrace of Feralas Forest. His destination lay to the northwest: the Dream Tree nestled in the heart of Lake Jademir, a vital nexus, an entrance into the ethereal realm of the Emerald Dream. Within its shimmering depths, the ancient wild boar demigod Agamaggan awaited, ready to guide Galen into the shadowed heart of the Nightmare.