Into the Light

51 | VINDICATION

Kalec's portal had sent Illidan to a sumptuous office. Several large rocks tumbled through the opening after him. Illidan bolted to the opposite side of the room, wary, watching the portal. Something was wrong. Why weren't they coming? Another cascade of massive masonry came tumbling in, crashing into the room, slamming into the office's delicate pieces of furniture, demolishing them. The portal disappeared. Still holding Tyrande in his arms, Illidan turned full circle, blinking blood and dust from his eyes.

There, a door, he went to it and tried the handle. Locked. He looked for a keyhole, a key, anything. Nothing. He cursed. Mages and their wards. He was stuck in here until someone found him and let him out.

He looked down at Tyrande and started, astonished. Her eyes were open, looking at him. He carried her to one of the sofas and lay her onto it, gentle. Hardly daring to breathe, he knelt beside her.

"Tyrande. You still live."

She didn't answer, she couldn't, when Sargeras had been ripped from her, her jaw had been broken, Illidan suspected the Titan's soul had been dragged out of her through her mouth. He shuddered. She blinked slow. He nodded, understanding. She would leave him soon.

He blinked back the tears burning in his eyes. He needed to find a healer. He looked around, he was in Dalaran of all places, where almost anything could be accomplished. He only needed a portal to Darnassus, the druids could save her. He went to the door and pounded on it, calling for help until his throat was raw. No one answered. He sagged against the door. Of course not. Everyone was at the Broken Shore, fighting the demons. They were alone.

He went back to Tyrande and knelt once more at her side. He took her hand in his as gently as he could, trying not to hurt her. His brother's voice, full and resonant, broke into Illidan's despairing thoughts.

It is not too late. She can still be saved, if we work together.

Illidan glanced behind him, somehow expecting to find his brother standing there, whole again. Malfurion?

Yes, I am still with you. Harness both my power and the Na'aru's light. Use it. Heal Tyrande.

Illidan let go of Tyrande and looked down at his hands, he had only ever used the power within them to destroy, never to heal. He clenched them into fists. Brother, I . . . don't know how.

Look at Tyrande. Imagine her whole again. Believe. Illidan, you can save her, it is not too late. I will help you. Just believe you can do it, and let our healing power pass through you.

Illidan shook his head. Believe? Was his brother mad? Magic was a skill learned and honed over years of practice, just believing wouldn't make anything happen. He looked at Tyrande, her eyes still open, watching him, how could she still live? It was impossible. A flicker of blue light passed through her eyes. He gasped. Elune's Light was sustaining Tyrande. He stood and took two steps back. He held out his hands toward her, uncertain. What if he accidentally cast his own magic? He would kill her. He looked into empty space, fear clawing at him.

Brother. Help me. Tell me what to do!

Think of nothing but Tyrande, whole and healthy again. Think of nothing else but that, and the rest will take care of itself. You must be passive through the whole process, do not try to stop it, or interfere. Can you do that?

If the situation had not been so grave, Illidan would have laughed. His brother was asking him to give up all his power, the only thing that he lived for, the only thing that mattered to him. His gaze moved back to Tyrande's. The light in her eyes had begun to dull, her eyelids drifted down, slow.

Illidan, we are running out of time! Elune's Light is fading.

"Use me. Heal her through me," Illidan cried out, fearing he was already too late. He would do this thing, no matter how much his nature fought against it. More than ten thousand years of fighting alone, and now he had to give up everything and stand passive, letting others use him to heal the only woman he had ever loved.

There was no warning, a rush of power surged up from his torso and down his arms. The Na'aru's holy light and Malfurion's wild druid magic glowed in his hands. His instincts bellowed at him to harness it. He clenched his jaw, and fought it. He stared at Tyrande, as their power poured out of him into her, forcing himself to see her as he remembered her the night he had taken her to the glade and made her his; how the light of Elune had bathed her healthy body, warm and soft in his arms. Light burned through him, more powerful than any arcane or demonic energy he had ever possessed. He longed to grab hold of it and take control. He cried out, frustrated, fighting his worst battle so far. He could not take control, if he did, Tyrande would die. He felt sweat breaking out on his torso, the muscles in his neck and jaw pulling taut. Sharp pain throbbed in his temples. Still he restrained himself, bellowing as he fought against his nature. The holy light left him, untouched. The light ended, and Malfurion's heals came next. New, raw, wild energy poured through Illidan, verdant with life. Again the desire to control, to hold his brother's power in his own hands overwhelmed him. Illidan screamed and fell to his knees, panting, fighting to hold on just a little longer. The last of his brother's power left him, abrupt. Illidan sagged, shuddering, gobbets of saliva hanging from his lips. He had done it. He wiped the back of his arm against his mouth, and rose up onto his knees. Tyrande.

She lay surrounded in a cocoon of white light, tendrils wove around her, piecing her back together. His brother's heals darted in and out, rejuvenating her, nourishing her. Still on his knees, Illidan shifted over to the sofa, moving as close as he dared without touching her.

Malfurion's voice came to him once more, fainter, weaker. Brother . . . thank you. Tyrande will live because of you. He continued, though each word grew fainter than the last. Forgive me for having failed you all your life. I could not see what you could, but I understand now, what you did and why. Please . . . take good care of my love.

"Malfurion!" Illidan pulled himself to his feet, tears blurring his eyes. No, it couldn't be. His brother couldn't be gone. He called again, frantic, turning, searching for his brother's voice. Silence. He felt a lightness sweeping upwards within him, as Malfurion's spirit gathered, and fled. A brief sensation of emptiness filled him, ending quickly. Malfurion was gone. Forever. Illidan stared at nothing, grief circling him. Malfurion understood. He had finally understood. Illidan fell to his knees, and wept.