Leylin realized then that this was not an interrogation meant to expose him.
It was a test of truth.
"I cannot speak for her ambitions," Leylin replied honestly. "Only that the demons threaten this city, and removing them serves Suramar whether the nobles acknowledge it or not."
Thalyssra studied him for a long moment.
"…You speak like someone who has no loyalty to our politics," she said. "Only for results."
"That may be true," Leylin answered.
A faint smile touched Thalyssra's lips, brief, weary, and genuine.
"Then perhaps," she said softly, "we are both standing on uncertain ground."
She glanced once more at the fallen demons.
"If Eliones is making underhanded deals, I intend to know," Thalyssra said. "And if you are a piece in her game, I will determine whether you are a threat… or an opportunity."
Leylin met her gaze steadily.
"Then it seems," he said, "we are both seeking the same thing."
Thalyssra inclined her head slightly.
"The truth," she agreed.
With that, she stepped back, her presence dissolving into the ambient mana as she turned to leave.
As she vanished into the shadows, Leylin remained alone among the ruins, the weight of the encounter settling slowly over him.
So even the First Arcanist doubts the Grand Magistrix…
This means her coup hasn't happened yet and Gul'dan hasn't met with the Grand Magistrix Elisande. His mission had just grown far more complicated. And far more dangerous.
---
Night had fully settled over Suramar by the time Leylin returned to the Jeweled Estate.
The city shimmered beneath its arcane canopy, eternal twilight preserved by ancient power. From afar, it looked peaceful, unchanging, untouchable. Yet Leylin now knew how fragile that illusion truly was. Beneath the polished streets and radiant spires, currents of doubt, ambition, and hidden schemes flowed as fiercely as any battlefield.
Eliones was waiting for him.
She stood by the balcony of her manor, gazing toward the distant outline of Nighthold. The soft glow of arcane lanterns cast her silhouette in violet and gold, her expression unreadable.
"You're back sooner than expected," she said without turning. "Judging by your aura, the mission was successful."
Leylin stepped forward, his cloak still faintly dusted with ash and fel residue.
"The camps are cleared," he replied. "But that wasn't the most important thing I found."
That caught her attention. Eliones turned slowly, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Oh?"
"I was confronted," Leylin continued, his voice steady, "by Thalyssra."
For the first time since he had met her, Eliones' composure cracked just barely. Her fingers tightened behind her back, nails pressing into her palm.
"…The First Arcanist herself?" she said quietly.
Leylin nodded. "She questioned my presence. My motives. And yours."
Eliones exhaled, then let out a short, humorless laugh.
"So she's begun moving already," she murmured. "I wondered how long it would take."
Leylin studied her carefully. "You don't seem surprised."
"I'm not," Eliones replied. "Thalyssra is observant. And more importantly, she still has doubts."
She walked past Leylin, pouring herself a glass of shimmering arcwine before finally facing him again.
"What did she want from you?" Eliones asked.
"The truth," Leylin answered. "Whether you were acting for Suramar… or for yourself."
Eliones smiled faintly. "And what did you tell her?"
"That I couldn't speak for your ambitions," Leylin said evenly. "Only removing demons benefits the city regardless of politics."
Eliones chuckled softly, swirling the wine in her glass.
"A safe answer. Sensible." She glanced at him sideways. "But tell me, are you worried about her?"
Leylin hesitated for a moment before answering honestly. "She's dangerous. Not because she's hostile but because she's thinking."
"That's exactly why you don't need to worry," Eliones said calmly.
Leylin frowned. "Explain."
Eliones set her glass down and gestured for Leylin to follow her deeper into the manor. As they walked, her tone shifted, lighter on the surface, but edged with something sharp beneath.
"Thalyssra doubts Elisande," Eliones said. "And she doubts the city's path. That makes her inconvenient… but not an enemy. Not yet."
They stopped before a large arcane map hovering in midair, Suramar and its surrounding regions rendered in flowing light.
"A few days ago," Eliones continued, "my scouts returned with information. Information far more urgent than Thalyssra's curiosity."
Leylin's gaze sharpened. "What did they find?"
Eliones raised her hand, and a portion of the map flared crimson.
"Fel traces," she said. "Dense. Purposeful. Not the scattered corruption of wandering demons."
She traced a line with her finger, starting near the outskirts of Suramar, winding toward the shadowed valleys beyond.
"They followed it," Eliones said. "And what they found… was not a camp."
Leylin's heart sank slightly. He already suspected the answer.
"They encountered Gul'dan."
The name fell like a hammer. For a moment, Leylin said nothing.
Images surged through his mind fractured memories of another timeline, another fate. The orc warlock standing at the center of calamity. The manipulator behind the Legion's resurgence in Azeroth. The catalyst.
"So he's here already…" Leylin muttered.
Eliones nodded. "Barely concealed. As if he wants to be found."
"My scouts didn't engage," she continued. "They're skilled but not suicidal. They withdrew immediately and reported back."
Leylin closed his eyes briefly. 'So it begins.'
If Gul'dan was operating near Suramar, then many of the events Leylin remembered were already set in motion or dangerously close.
The Nightwell. The corruption of the city. The bargains Elisande would make in desperation. And eventually, The fall of Suramar.
Leylin opened his eyes, gaze distant.
Eliones watched him carefully. "You seem… unsurprised."
"I've heard the name before," Leylin replied carefully. "Enough to know that if Gul'dan is here, then Suramar stands at the edge of a blade."
Eliones' lips curved into a faint, knowing smile.
"Then you understand why I'm moving now," she said. "Why am I acting before Elisande tightens her grip any further."
Leylin turned to her. "You're planning something big."
"Of course I am," Eliones replied softly. "The question is whether you intend to stand inside that storm… or be swept away by it."
Leylin fell silent, his thoughts racing.
He tried to recall everything he knew what would come next if history followed its original course. The Legion's infiltration. Elisande's fatal pact. The Nightborne's enslavement to the Nightwell.
And the cost paid by those who resisted too late.
Slowly, Leylin exhaled. "If Gul'dan is moving openly," he said, "then Suramar's future is already being rewritten."
Eliones met his gaze. "Good."
She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"Because I intend to rewrite it as well."
Leylin stared at the arcane map, at the spreading fel stains, at the luminous heart of Nighthold pulsing ominously.
And for the first time since arriving in Suramar, he felt certain of one thing, the banquet halls, the noble masks, the careful lies… all of it was about to collapse. And when it did, Gul'dan would not be the only one pulling the strings.
Leylin returned to the quietest wing of the Jeweled Estate, the private library sealed behind layers of soundproofing and arcane concealment. The towering shelves rose like stone sentinels, heavy with tomes bound in crystal leather, rune-etched metal, and ancient bark preserved by magic. Here, time felt slower and thicker.
The name Gul'dan lingered in Leylin's mind long after he left Eliones' presence.
It was like a shadow cast across every memory he possessed, an anchor point where countless tragedies converged. If Gul'dan had truly begun moving openly near Suramar, then the clock was no longer merely ticking. It was accelerating.
Yet Leylin knew better.
If Gul'dan is already laying the groundwork… then Thalyssra's move won't be far behind.
Based on everything Leylin remembered, the First Arcanist's doubts would soon turn into action. A coup, quiet at first, then desperate. A last attempt to wrench Suramar away from Elisande's fatal pact with the Legion.
And it would fail.
Leylin exhaled slowly and lowered himself into a seat beside a floating lectern, fingers brushing the edge of an open grimoire. The glyphs within rearranged themselves as they sensed his mana, responding like living things.
Melandrus…
The name surfaced unbidden. The first blade of Grand Magistrix Elisande. A loyal servant on the surface. A traitor beneath.
It was Melandrus who would betray Thalyssra at the most critical moment delivering her into ruin, exile, and eventual starvation without the Nightwell's sustenance. From that despair, the Nightfallen resistance would be born.
Leylin's lips pressed into a thin line.
"That future doesn't benefit me," he murmured softly.
Nor did it benefit Suramar.
With a subtle pulse of will, Leylin activated the sigil embedded in his sleeve. The shadows at the edges of the room stirred, then peeled away from the walls like living ink.
The Shadow Khans emerged one by one, silent, featureless, kneeling as soon as they manifested.
Leylin did not waste words.
"The city will soon tremble," he said calmly. "You will not interfere only observe."
The shadow constructs inclined their heads.
"Watch the movements of the First Arcanist. Watch the guards. Watch the nobles. Most importantly—watch Melandrus."
A pause.
"Record everything," Leylin added. "Locations. Conversations. Shifts in allegiance. If the city begins to move, I want to know before it happens."
The Shadow Khans dissolved once more, seeping into the walls, the floors, the unseen spaces between magic and matter.
Leylin leaned back in his chair.
If Eliones is playing her own game… then I can't afford to be blind.