The scout captain quickly ordered her subordinates to watch over the Shadow Weaver's group while she returned to report. But just as quickly as she left, she came back.
Barely half an hour later, she returned with the orders of the priestesses of Val'sharah's Temple of the Moon; allow the Shadow Weaver's group to pass. They could cross the temple grounds and the night elf town of Andutalah on their way to Highmountain, but only under the watch of night elf scouts.
Escorted thus, the Shadow Weaver's company seemed to pass "safely" through the night elf lands, pausing only to gaze from afar at the World Tree Shaladrassil when they crossed Andutalah.
Yet Nasha and the night elves with her did not continue on to Highmountain. Once they had seen the humans and tauren past the borders of Val'sharah, they returned with the local night elf guards to Andutalah.
Nasha explained to them that their mission was only to see the humans and tauren safely into Highmountain, and to escort them back the same way after. The guards believed her completely.
At this time, night elves remained very wary of outsiders, but their guard against their own kin was low—especially when it came to someone like Nasha, the trusted lieutenant of Maiev. Many of Val'sharah's higher-ranking sentinels and druids knew her well.
Thus, with Nasha leading, the brainwashed night elves under the Shadow Weaver could move freely across Val'sharah. They entered without trouble into Shal'aranil, the village beneath Shaladrassil's roots.
"This is Shaladrassil. The Satyr are sealed within the Shalanir Caverns behind the village. We can easily reach the outside of the caves, but entering them is impossible without the archdruid's command," Nasha murmured, kneeling beneath the tree as if in prayer—but in truth, speaking to her own shadow.
From that shadow, the Shadow Weaver's rasping voice replied, "That is nothing. Just get me close. Distract the druids guarding the way. With shadows on my side, no place is barred to me."
Her title, the Shadow Weaver, came not by chance—her mastery of shadow was unmatched. Though not as mighty as Ancient One, compared to Malfurion, it was another matter entirely.
"I understand," Nasha whispered back. Then she rose and walked toward the Shalanir Caverns.
As expected, before she reached the entrance, a great bear emerged from the forest, speaking with courtesy: "This place is forbidden, my sister. Without the archdruid's command, I must ask you to turn back."
"Forgive me. I only wished to walk around and admire the great Mother Tree… but I seem to have lost my way. Could you guide me back to the village, druid?" Nasha answered with feigned panic.
"Oh, of course, young one. Follow me."
The druid nodded kindly. He did not know Nasha. And with night elves' immortality, one could hardly judge their age by sight. To him, she was just a local girl unfamiliar with the area. He had seen many like her over the long years, so he thought little of it.
Though he was a guard of Shalanir Caverns, his post was on the outer rim. Leaving for a short while would not affect much, so he warmly agreed to lead her back.
For nearly ten thousand years, Shaladrassil's peace had dulled the vigilance of its guardians to a dangerous low.
The druid who had guided Nasha back soon returned to his post, appearing calm, as though nothing had happened. But in truth, the Shadow Weaver had already hidden herself within his shadow, completely unnoticed.
Using the same trick again and again, she slipped deeper into the Shalanir Caverns, riding the shadows of the druids patrolling within.
Yet when she reached the innermost chambers, she realized things would not be as easy as she thought. Satyr's prison was protected by a powerful barrier of natural magic. Even with her strength, breaking it silently was impossible.
Still, since she had come this far, she would not leave empty-handed.
She slipped into the shadow of another patrolling druid. The moment she merged, the druid's face twisted in horror—his body was no longer his own.
The Shadow Weaver's mastery over shadows was not just hiding. Through them, she could seize control of another's body. Normally, the flaws in such control could be spotted quickly, so she rarely risked using it.
But now, with the goal before her, caution was meaningless. If she failed, she could always flee.
Without hesitation, she drove the druid's body forward, burning his very life force to assault the barrier.
The sudden attack instantly alarmed the druids within the cavern. But their long years of peace had bred carelessness. Even with the heart of the prison under attack, they did not wake the great druids who slumbered nearby. Instead, they dispatched a dozen ordinary druids to search for the source.
By the time they found their fellow battering the barrier, it was already cracking open.
They rushed to stop him, but the druid—under her control—fought like a madman, charging them with suicidal fury.
Most of the defenders knew him well. Shocked and unwilling to kill a comrade, they tried to subdue him alive. This hesitation cost them dearly.
In that wasted time, the Shadow Weaver slipped through the breach and reached the chamber where the Satyr lay in endless slumber.
The cavern was crowded with them, row upon row of twisted bodies, sleeping but not gone.
Without delay, she unleashed the darkness within her. Waves of shadow power pulsed outward, seeping into the Satyr.
At her call, their eyes snapped open, their bodies twisting with renewed hate.
"Go!" the Shadow Weaver cried. "Release the fury of your ten thousand years of chains!"
With howls of madness, the Satyr surged forward, pouring through the broken barrier, tearing into the druids in a storm of slaughter.