Familiar Faces

Familiar Faces

It was midnight.

Ringo and Beli couldn’t see the glowing crystal through the trees from where they were, but it lit the leaves and branches of the visibly mutated plants as the dwarves crept through the underbrush.

“If I said I saw figures around it, why would that make you want to sneak up to the crystal?” Beli hissed quietly, wishing she was sitting before a roaring fire in Lakeshire.

“We’re not leaving this Titan-forsaken isle until we know who came out of the crystal and is transforming this wee forest and its creatures.”

“Get the elves to do it! They’re …”

Ringo hushed her with a wave of his hand, laying flat on the dirt and jerking her by the wrist to lay down beside him, staring at the camp beneath a thick shrub.

It took a moment for Beli to recognize the silhouettes moving back and forth in front of the large pink crystal. The color drained from her face when she realized what she was looking at.

“Eredar,” she whispered. “It’s the Burning Legion.”

“Get my bag, Beli,” Ringo growled, counting Eredar with one finger. “I’ve got a wee load of seaforium we’re going ta use ta welcome them back to Azeroth.”

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