Elune's gem rotated above the Altar, patient. Every novice Moon Priestess learned on her first day that Elune's Light was generated within the goddess herself, but it was not an infinite source, and could be depleted, thus balance was always important. But Tyrande had seen how fast Illidan had used up her Light, she would have to channel Light into him continuously. How long could the Goddess sustain the demands they would put upon her? Tyrande thought again of the extinguished Na'aru. Elune could be destroyed. A goddess. Horrified, Tyrande reached for the Altar and gripped onto its sides, swaying. She felt sick. How could Elune even consider such a thing?
"No. I will not be a part of this. There must be another way."
"There is."
Tyrande waited, holding her breath, hopeful. Yes. Anything but this. Anything.
Elune continued, filled with sadness. "We leave Illidan to fight alone. If he fails, all life will be extinguished, not just here, but in all the worlds, until the gods and even time herself is consumed--until there is Nothing."
Tyrande choked, and a tear slipped free, hot against her cold cheek. There was no choice. Someone touched her shoulder, she jumped, frightened. But it was not one of the owl-men, it was her husband, Malfurion, his eyes dark with misgiving. He took hold of her hand and squeezed it. He gazed at the gem for a long time before addressing the Goddess, his voice rich and full of authority.
"I will go in Tyrande's stead. Illidan is my brother, after all. Although he has done great wrong in the past, he fights now for Azeroth and needs our help. It is my duty to protect him, not my wife's. I survived the Nightmare, I will survive the Nether."
In response, the gem brightened until it flared as bright as the heart of a new-born star. Tyrande shielded her eyes, shrinking back against Malfurion, putting herself between him and the Light. He should not have addressed Elune until the goddess spoke to him first.
Elune's voice cut through the air, sharp as glass. "Look into the Light and see the truth, Son of Cenarius."
Within the gem's center a smear of darkness bloomed, spreading outwards, consuming the Light. In the darkness, movement. Colours slid past, blue, green, red and gold. A planet came into view, lingering for a heartbeat before spiralling away.
Tyrande gaped. Elune had opened a portal into The Twisting Nether--a doorway to nowhere--from the icy fastness of the mountains of Winterspring. The owl-men howled, fearful. Tyrande could feel her mind careening towards an edge, teetering on the brink of madness. It was one thing to see the Nether in a spirit state, but an entirely different thing to see it while awake and grounded in the world of the living.
She tore her gaze from it, forcing herself to look at the sky, the trees, the snow beneath her feet. A scream echoed across the ruins, filled with anguish. Tyrande couldn't stop herself. She lifted her eyes from the snow coating her boots to the endless, yawning Void. A little way in from the opening, Illidan thrashed, twisting, clawing at a massive, pulsating fel tether buried inside his torso, probing.
"No . . ." Malfurion whispered, horrified. He hauled himself up onto the Altar's slippery surface, shouting, "Brother! I am coming! You are not alone!"
The tether slid out, slow, grasping a piece of Illidan's heart. He spun away, sobbing as it pulled free, the violence of its exit brutal to witness. Blood sprayed out onto the Altar, Tyrande touched it. Illidan's blood, still warm, coated her gloved fingers. She held them up to Malfurion, as he moved toward the opening, cautious.
"Illidan bleeds for us."
Illidan's head lifted, slow. He shuddered, wrapping his arms around his ravaged torso. He turned, and drifted towards the portal. He brought his hand to the barrier. Unable to pass, he pressed his palm against it, as though against a window pane. Blood covered his arms, his legs, his face. His eyes, dark with untold agonies, met hers.
"Tyrande. It is too late. I waited as long as I could."
Malfurion moved in front of the portal, blocking Illidan's view. "It is not too late. Elune is here, I am here. We are going to help you."
Illidan shook his head. He coughed, hard. "Tyrande--"
"No. It is too dangerous. I will come to you, I will fight with you. Let me--"
Illidan roared, furious, and slammed his fist against the portal's surface. Stunned, Malfurion took a step back, his face ashen. Elune's voice came again, severe. "It can only be Tyrande. Illidan knows what he needs to stand against Gul'dan. You could only offer a trickle of what Tyrande can give him. No other has the connection to the Light she has. Malfurion, what you offer is noble, but in this matter you must stand aside. It must be her, or no one."
Tyrande looked up at Illidan, watching her, tormented. She lowered her gaze, shamed by her own selfish fears when he was suffering so much.
"Please," he whispered, ragged, "come to me, give me the strength to go on."
Her heart pounding, she climbed up onto the Altar and held out her hand to Malfurion to help her across. His chest heaving, he shook his head, unwilling, conflicted.
"For Azeroth," she murmured, holding her hand steady, waiting.
He cursed, angry, and grasped her hand, firm, bringing her to him. "My love--" the raw ache in his voice brought fresh tears to Tyrande's eyes. "Just live. That's all I ask. Live--and return to me."