A soft glow spread across Tyrande body, while the once-clear sky darkened. The twin moons overhead suddenly blazed with an unnatural brilliance.
The change was so sudden, so overwhelming, that the two giant worms ravaging the Sentinels felt it at once. Uneasy, they abandoned all else and thundered toward Tyrande.
But halfway there, Shandris and her guards blocked their path with desperate fury.
And as Tyrande's light grew stronger, more stars appeared around the radiant moons, swelling brighter and brighter—until they began to fall.
Yes—the stars were falling.
This was the High Priestess's deadliest weapon, one of the rarest legion-scale spells in the whole Warcraft universe. It was known as the Stellar Rain of Elune—or more commonly, Starfall.
Only the most devout priestesses could call upon Elune herself to use this miracle.
Among the Night Elves of today, aside from Tyrande, only her disciple Shandris Feathermoon had the strength to wield it.
As the stars of pure energy rained down, they locked onto their targets automatically. Not a single Night Elf was touched; every blazing shard struck the Qiraji swarming across the beach.
The once-mighty insect soldiers, on contact with those falling stars, hissed and melted as if bathed in acid. Their bodies smoked, crumbled, and collapsed lifeless.
Even the colossal Kurinnaxx and Ouro roared in agony under the bombardment. Their monstrous hides split and smoked under the heavenly assault.
But soon, as if hearing a command, both began to retreat. The Night Elves, however, would not let them go. Under Shandris's orders, the Sentinels pressed their attack, desperate to avenge their sisters.
Shandris herself leapt onto Kurinnaxx's back, her glaive flashing as she hacked again and again at its head.
Ouro, seeing this, did not come to its fellow's aid. Instead, it burrowed straight into the earth. Worse still, it collapsed the tunnel behind it as it fled—cutting off Kurinnaxx's escape.
Companions? Hardly. They were all insects, yes, but not of the same brood.
Meanwhile, the aquatic naiad swarm beneath the sea also pulled back the moment Tyrande began her starfall. Aside from a few unlucky ones caught chasing druids too deep, they suffered little real loss.
When she sensed the enemy retreat, Tyrande at last ended her prayer. The glow faded from her body, the moons dimmed once more, and sunlight poured back over the land.
"Teacher… our sisters…" Shandris stumbled over, her armor dripping with insect ichor, her voice thick with grief.
"It's all right, child. Elune will watch over them." Tyrande, pale and weakened, pulled her close, trying to soothe her.
The spell had drained her deeply. Such legion-scale magic came at a heavy cost. But at least, the worst was avoided. The army had not been wiped out.
They quickly set aside sorrow and began giving orders. The remaining forces cleaned the battlefield. Scouts were sent toward Cenarion Hold, and a desperate call for aid was dispatched toward Hyjal.
Their landing force had already taken severe losses. Expecting them to hold back the Qiraji alone would be impossible. Reinforcements were their only hope.
And in her plea for aid, Tyrande issued a command in the strongest terms—Fandral must awaken Malfurion.
From what they had seen today, the swarm was no less terrifying than it had been during the War of the Shifting Sands. The Night Elves alone could not stop them. They would need the dragonflights again. And among the Night Elves, only Malfurion had ties strong enough to call upon the dragons.
"…Starfall… Elune truly complicates matters."
Far away, atop the hidden peaks of Silithus, unseen even by storm crows, the Ancient One narrowed her eyes. She had been guiding the swarm from the shadows, and now her gaze lingered on the twin moons, whose glow had once again hidden behind daylight.
The reason she had ordered the swarm to retreat wasn't simply because Tyrande was powerful. In truth, the losses caused by Starfall were nothing compared to the vastness of the Qiraji horde. If the Ancient One was willing, she could easily drown Tyrande and her entire host under endless waves of insects.
But when Tyrande had unleashed that spell, the Ancient One had felt something descend—a will so overwhelming that it dwarfed even Arishem's. There was no doubt. It was Elune, the one true god of the Warcraft cosmos, the very being Josh had warned her about again and again.
After sensing such power, and uncertain of this deity's stance toward Azeroth's conflict, the Ancient One had no intention of provoking her. She would not face such an existence head-on… not unless she had no choice.
Her eyes narrowed, then her form melted into the shadows.
As for the great battle on Silithus' coast, Abbendis knew nothing of it. At that very moment, he was leading his forces ashore in Val'sharah.
But his landing site was no longer the midpoint between Highmountain and Val'sharah as he and Tyrande had once agreed. Instead, his troops poured onto the Duskwither Islets.
Of course, this was only a staging point. His true target lay across the bay—the long-abandoned fortress of Black Rook Hold.
During the War of the Ancients, the stronghold had resisted the Burning Legion for a long time. But after the Sundering cut the Broken Isles adrift from the continent, its value dwindled. Over time, fel energy seeped through its halls, shadows lingered, and the place was abandoned.
The last scion of House Ravencrest, its original owners, had become a demon hunter and, like Illidan, was eventually imprisoned by the Watchers.
To Abbendis, however, no place was better suited as a beachhead. Large, defensible, and formidable—it was perfect.
"Ben, Mr. Xu, I'll leave this to you. I'll have everyone else support you." Abbendis stood before the massive gates of the fortress, speaking to Ben and Xu Wenwu.
Sweeping out the horrors that haunted the stronghold would be difficult for his forces alone.
But with Josh's chosen champions here, the task would be much easier.
Ben and Wenwu gave no needless words. Each led a band of Vrykul elites into the fortress, beginning the purge.
"Lord Abbendis, we've found Night Elf scouts. They've been dealt with—none escaped. But the Moon Temple may soon notice something is wrong."
Loki appeared at his side, delivering the report.
Black Rook Hold might be abandoned, but the ancient Temple of Elune stood not far away.
And with the isles mired in chaos, the Night Elves had stationed scouts across every corner of Val'sharah.
A landing of this size could never stay hidden.
"Don't worry. The Ancient One gave instructions—leave that to the Shadow Weaver."
Abbendis looked toward the robed figure hovering nearby, her legs folded in the air, dark energy flowing around her.