Dame Catherine Hildreth stood on the platform of the Temple of the Moon in Bel’ameth, looking to the assembled ranks of the “Deathsworn Heralds” - the group she had inherited from her fallen godfather, Sir Eran Heskin. It was a mishmash of a variety of allied groups, which had worked together in some form or another for the past few years and had developed their own distinct “clubs” and tactics.
There were about fifty people in all, and it was a strange grouping. The core groups were the remnants of the original Lordaeron Deathsworn, the Alliance militia founded by Catherine’s fallen mentor, Saavedro of Stratholme, and the Heralds of the Other Side, or “Atal’Limbashi” as some had taken to calling them, the followers of Zulimbasha the Collector, high priest of Bwonsamdi, the supreme Loa of Zandalar. Other groups included the Unliving Heralds, the various undead - Forsaken, darkfallen, and death knights - under the command of Baron Kieran Devaneaux, and the Heralding Wings, the new weyrn of dracthyr who had rallied to Archivist Lengua. The three of them stood with her on the dais.
“My friends,” Catherine began, “we have been given a mission by our… associate from the infinite dragonflight. Tremas has gone to seek others for the new ‘study group’ run by Eternus and her followers, seeking to understand how conflict and loss has shaped our world. An admirable goal, for those who had once been our opponents. Some of us are familiar with their earlier attempts to alter history. This time, however, they seek not to alter it, but to relive it, to experience it.”
Catherine paused, a cold anger in her good eye as she gazed around the assembly. “Tremas has come to us because a situation has arisen that involves connections to us. The eredar warlord Kalimos is attempting to alter his fate at the hands of the Corruptor on Argus.” Her eyes went to the warlock in question, expecting some kind of gloating. But if anything, he was as attentive as the others, his expression solemn. “In so doing, he may alter other fates not meant to be changed, which could well violate the agreement between Eternus and Nozdormu to allow these ‘study groups’. He is being aided by a renegade member of the infinite dragonflight, whom Tremas has identified as Crosis, and by the Forsaken dark ranger Mariel Surrette. These lunatics have taken a number of our friends and comrades from us. Sir Eran. Lorewalker Puretide, his wife Lazhna, and his brother Zhaoren. Lord Valmy. And now Esheregos, or Eregesh as we knew him.”
The dracthyr, Lengua in particular, looked particularly downcast at the loss of their friend and ally. Esheregos’ niece, Rianagosa, stood with the other Wings in the crowd, visibly trying not to weep; she had been the one forced to kill her weakened uncle. Seeing her, Catherine’s heart broke for the young dragon, but her voice remained level. “Tremas has warned us that they may have changed the fate of another of our brothers - our patron during the recent battle for Amirdrassil, Archdruid Tekolin Wintershade. As those of us who served in the Broken Isles know, in addition to the Legion, we had to contend with the Nightmare Lord and his forces in Val’sharah. Archdruid Underwood, have you and Tremas been able to confirm that he is there?”
“It pains me to say that he is, Warmaster,” Gabriel Underwood replied, nodding his antlered head solemnly. “And equally painful is that his suspicion was right. Tekolin has been taken by the Nightmare. He is now one of Xavius’ pawns under the boughs of Shaladrassil.” Next to him, Warden Itzara Ravensong tightened her grip on the hilts of her blades. She heard Bwonsamdi’s warning in her mind: Dis don’t be somet’ing ya back away from… I don’t be someone ya back away from. And ya may not like what ya find.
Catherine’s jaw clenched. “As warned, it is possible that the change of events could cause significant damage to the flow of time, and cause conflict with the bronze dragonflight. If there is any way to bring the archdruid home safe, we can, but if it comes down to it, it may be that he is fated to die as this… broken man he has become. And perhaps this is why Tremas has asked for volunteers from our ranks to join Eternus’ group in their study, and I can see the reasoning.” She looked again to Riana, who met her gaze. “As Rianagosa has sadly been forced to demonstrate to us, when a comrade or loved one is too far to save, perhaps it is best that the end come at the hand of a friend.”
As Riana bowed her head, Catherine looked around to the others. “I warn you that the same fate may apply to you. If you accept this quest, you may die as well, if need be, to preserve what was, what is, and what will be. With that in mind… who will go with Eternus’ people to the Broken Isles, to relive the Legion war?”
Dead silence. Even the birds had quieted. Then one figure stepped forward, a tall blood elf in fire-runed armor, carrying a pair of warglaives. “I will. I owe Tekolin a great deal for his kindness and his counsel. If he must fall, as you say, let it be a friend who brings him peace.”
That was not who she expected, and it showed on her face. “You are aware of the risks, Master Poquelin?”
“I am, Warmaster. And…” Poquelin the Accursed, as he was known, turned to face the others. “The name I chose when I became a demon hunter means ‘avenger’ in a demonic dialect. I chose it because I believed vengeance was all we had left to us, with Quel’Thalas gone, Kael’thas having sold us to the Legion, and Illidan struck down. But my time in Revendreth, and my time among you, has shown me a different way… and in this case, our watchword is justice, not vengeance. There is no need for a Poquelin anymore.” He turned his head to Itzara, and smiled. “My name is Teren Skyfire. I would be honored if you would use it.”
Catherine stared in absolute astonishment. This was definitely not what she expected. She glanced at the Warden, who gave a slow, solemn nod. That was enough. “Very well, Master Skyfire. You honor us, and our friend, with your words.” She gazed around. “Any others who will accompany him?”