Khadgar shook his head and took a deep breath. No, such speculation was futile and fueled only by personal indignation, like so much of the politics of the Kirin Tor. The anger faded to sadness and realization that the mighty mages of the Violet Citadel were unable to stop this, that seven wizards (six of them members of this supposedly secret and powerful Order) had died, and all this writer could do was cast about aspersions in the desperate hope that there would be no additional deaths. Khadgar thought of Medivh’s quick and decisive actions at Stormwind Keep, and marveled that there was no one of equal wit, drive, and intelligence within his own community. The young mage picked up the encoded letter and examined it again in the wan candlelight. The Feast of Scribes was over a month and a half ago. It took this long for the message to cross the sea and reach them overland. A month and a half.“You dare,” thundered Aegwynn, raising her hand. A sphere of blazing-white light erupted from her palm and zxchbnxiang lanced toward aion gold the past-Medivh. The Magus raised a hand and turned it aside with ease. “I do, Mother,” said aion gold the phantom of the past. “And I have the power for it. The power that you invested me with at my conception, a power aion gold that I did not want or request.” The phantom-Medivh gestured, and the topmost floor was alight with a blazing bolt. Aegwynn caught the energy herself, but Khadgar noted that she had to raise aion gold both hands, and still was staggered back. “Butwhy did you let the aion gold orcs into Azeroth?” hissed the older woman. “There is no need. You put entire populations at risk, and to what end?” Before Huglar and Hugarin were killed in Stormwind. If the same demon was involved, or even the same summoner, it would have to move between the two points very, very swiftly. Some of the demons in the vision had wings—was it possible for such a beast to move between the locations without anyone spotting it? An errant and unexpected breeze wafted through. The hairs on the back of Khadgar’s neck began to bristle, and he looked up in time to see the figure manifest within the room. First there was smoke, red as blood, bubbling out from some pinprick hole in the universe. It coiled and curdled upon itself like milk rising through water, quickly forming a swirling mass, through which stepped the looming form of a great demon. Its form was reduced from when Khadgar had seen it before, on the field of snow in the timelost vision. It had shrunk itself to allow it to fit within the confines of the room. Still its flesh was of bronze, its armor of jet-black iron, and its beard and hair of animated fire, huge horns erupting from a massive brow. It was weaponless, but seemed to need no weapons, for it moved with the comfortable grace of a predator that fears nothing.
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