Based on his hazy memories, Andreas vaguely recalled that someone had indeed stolen the Dragon Soul from right under the Black Dragon King's nose, but he couldn't be certain if it was Illidan's doing.
About a month ago, Andreas had seen the famous Demon Hunter at the gates of Zin-Azshari, and at that time, he clearly wasn't in possession of the Dragon Soul.
However, Illidan was once the Captain of the Moon Guard at Black Rook Hold, which meant he was previously a highly skilled Arcanist. Although Illidan had completely changed his combat style after receiving a fel infusion from Sargeras, that didn't mean he was no longer capable of using the arcane.
Theoretically, after failing his attempt to force his way through the city gates, Illidan could have easily teleported to Highmountain to steal the Dragon Soul. Using this powerful artifact as a "gift of loyalty," he could have entered Zin-Azshari openly and with honor.
Shaking his head to clear his cluttered thoughts, Andreas reorganized the current situation.
No matter who stole the Dragon Soul, it shouldn't be difficult to lure away Neltharion, who is currently driven mad by the excruciating pain of his body tearing apart.
Andreas wasn't sure if Rhonin would think of this. To be safe, he relayed his suggestion to Malfurion.
Malfurion appeared somewhat hesitant upon hearing the method. "Before his betrayal, Neltharion was always the leader of the Great Aspects; he was consistently steady and calculating. Can such an unfounded lure really work?"
Andreas said with a chuckle, "That was the old him. I've heard that because of his excessive use of the Dragon Soul, Neltharion's body has begun to shatter, unable to withstand the massive energy backlash of the artifact."
"Right now, that fallen Black Dragon King must be enduring the heart-wrenching pain of his body splitting open. I don't believe he can think calmly or rationally in such a state."
Malfurion nodded half-doubtingly. "Very well, I will arrange for an arcanist to relay your suggestion to Rhonin. Furthermore..."
He paused mid-sentence, his expression showing a hint of hesitation and helplessness. "Andreas, please forgive Tyrande for her poor attitude toward you. I honestly don't know why she treats her savior, who is also a blessed of the Moon Goddess, with such coldness."
Andreas was stunned for a moment, then shook his head with a laugh. "Master, please don't pay it any mind."
"She bears no personal ill-will toward me. It's purely an instinctive repulsion caused by our energies—both derived from Elune, yet completely opposite."
...
Just as Malfurion had said, even though Andreas had overcome numerous obstacles to rescue Tyrande from the palace, the High Priestess's attitude toward him remained consistently cold.
Andreas didn't mind. This instinctive sense of repulsion wasn't something only Tyrande felt; he felt it too.
While the master and disciple were discussing her, Tyrande was currently sitting by High Priestess Dejahna's sickbed, silently channeling spells. Due to the intensity of the war, Maiev, the leader of the combat priestesses, was leading the Sisterhood members in battle on the front lines, leaving only a few non-combatants to guard the camp.
"Don't waste your effort."
Dejahna smiled, stopping Tyrande's attempts. "Many sisters have tried to treat me, and even Archdruid Stormrage has visited several times. It's no use."
"High Priestess..."
Watching her mentor's decline, a sense of powerlessness made Tyrande subconsciously clench her fists.
Dejahna gently patted Tyrande's hands resting on the edge of the bed. "Look up, child."
"Perhaps this is my destiny—a punishment from the Goddess for the indecisiveness of the first half of my life."
Leaning back against the pillows, Dejahna appeared quite composed and relaxed. The illness on her face couldn't hide the ethereal temperament that had become rare in recent years.
"I've already made all the necessary arrangements. Once this Great War ends, you will succeed me as the new High Priestess of the Sisterhood."
Dejected, Tyrande looked up in shock. "Me? Isn't it too soon? I have no experience at all. Perhaps..."
Dejahna waved her hand with a smile. "Experience is something everyone accumulates over time. With the oracle personally descended from Elune as a guarantee, your succession is legitimate."
"But..."
"I know what you are worried about."
Having let go of everything, Dejahna now saw the world more clearly than ever. Her clear eyes watched Tyrande with a hint of a smile.
"You're worried about Maiev's attitude, aren't you?"
"As I said before, everything that needed to be settled has been settled. That naturally includes any potential opposition within the Sisterhood in the future."
Dejahna's expression turned solemn as she took Tyrande's right hand, her weak grip tightening slightly to emphasize her stance.
"The Sisterhood of Elune is now entrusted to you. Maiev will certainly not be convinced in the short term, but I believe she will prioritize the greater good."
Tyrande opened her mouth to speak, but seeing Dejahna's pale face, she finally sighed.
"I understand. I will do my utmost to continue expanding and strengthening the Sisterhood of Elune."
"That's good... that's good."
Having sat up, Dejahna leaned back exhaustedly, her eyes gradually drooping from lack of strength. Before falling asleep, she forced herself to remove a pendant from her neck and solemnly placed it in Tyrande's hand.
"This is the item I mentioned to you before—the artifact passed down through generations of the Sisterhood: the Tears of Elune."
"I have been an incompetent High Priestess. Not only did I fail my duty as Elune's spokesperson to advise Queen Azshara, but my personal strength was also unremarkable."
"The Tears of Elune possess immense power, but the backlash for someone with insufficient strength to use them is severe. I am a living example of that."
Dejahna's struggling eyes finally closed slowly. "I believe... you will surely... do better than... me..."
"Sigh..."
Hearing the steady breathing from the bed, Tyrande gripped the Tears of Elune and remained silent for a few seconds.
"High Priestess, I will not let you or Elune down."
Hanging the Tears of Elune around her neck, Tyrande silently bowed to the sleeping Dejahna and stepped out of the tent quietly.
"Yo~"
A slightly flippant voice came from beside the tent. A male elf—whom she instinctively disliked—was leaning against a short tree with his arms crossed, greeting her. Beside him, the noble girl she had met recently was also bowing to her.
Looking at the pendant tucked between Tyrande's impressive peaks, a flash of realization crossed Andreas's eyes.
"It seems High Priestess Dejahna has entrusted the future to you. What are your plans next?"
Tyrande gave a cold snort. "None of your business. You should focus on doing your own job."
Watching Tyrande strode away, Andreas scratched his head helplessly.
"As expected, she's still too green. An overly emotional leader isn't a good thing for the future of the Sisterhood."
Leticia, standing beside Andreas, couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Isn't it because you're always provoking her? Since you two don't get along, why not just keep your distance?"
"True enough."
Andreas shrugged. "I just wanted to test her caliber. Now it seems that the future plans I previously drafted must be further developed."