Chapter 612

Chapter 612: Farewell

After escaping the Silithid territory by trekking west through dense jungles, the group were utterly exhausted.

Following a brief night’s rest, they continued westward the next day. They planned to enter Night Elf territory and deliberately let the sentries capture them. This way, they could report the Silithid swarm’s rapid northward expansion and ask for assistance reaching Tanaris Desert.

As expected, Vereesa made no effort to avoid patrols this time. Within hours of spotting the Night Elves’ Arcane warning lanterns—a signal they’d deliberately revealed themselves to—they found themselves surrounded by sentries.

“We mean you no harm, travelers,” declared the lead sentry, “but you must turn back.”

The Night Elf captain emerged from the trees astride a pure black panther. She wore a long purple cloak and a silver, tree-patterned helmet obscuring her upper face, a trident gripped in her hand.

Her stern expression softened upon recognizing Vereesa. She inclined her head. “Ishnu—Ala, sister from across the sea. I remember you. General Shandris Feathermoon already granted you and your companions passage. Why return? Regardless of your intentions, this trespass is an offense.”

“We discovered the edge of a Silithid nest less than fifty miles southeast of here, Kaldorei,” Vereesa stated bluntly.

“Impossible,” the sentry countered. “The southeast remains close to the ruins of the Kaldorei Empire. That area is distant from Silithus. We know the swarm expands, but it couldn’t have penetrated so deeply.”

“She speaks true,” Vereesa insisted. “General Feathermoon shared your view when I spoke with her. Yet shortly after we pressed south, the swarm ambushed us. Your intelligence is outdated. Your Silithus outpost may have lost track of the nests.”

Vereesa handed over her map marked with the nest locations. The sentry on the black panther conferred briefly with her comrades. “Your warning is appreciated. I shall alert the sentry general immediately and inform Cenarion Hold of the Silithid movements. This is a grave threat; they encroach perilously close to our lands.”

“Could you assist us?” Gred stepped forward. “We seek passage to Gadgetzan. We’ve heard your people keep flying mounts. We only need to bypass the Centaur in Stone Talon to reach The Shimmering Flats.”

The sentry eyed the dwarf. “All Hippogryphs are committed to flights between Mount Hyjal and Astranaar—journeys spanning thousands of miles, evading Stonetalon’s two-headed beasts. We’ve none to spare for you…” She glanced at the Tauren.

Mosa spoke instantly. “I’m not going.”

“Nor can we accommodate the other three,” the sentry confirmed.

“Could a sailboat take us to the Tanaris coast?” Jesse asked.

The sentry hesitated. Gred hefted the giant insect head. “See? We even dispatched a few bugs for you. Consider it a contribution to your safety.”

At the sight of the Silithid head, the sentry relented. “Follow me, travelers.”

Guided by the sentries, they traveled west for three days, finally reaching a fog-shrouded coastline.

The journey passed in unusual silence. Jesse couldn’t fathom the others’ thoughts. Departing Kalimdor for Stormwind should have been joyous, yet a growing melancholy weighed on him as the Night Elf docks neared.

Perhaps it was Mosa Woodmane. Months of travel with the brave Tauren had forged a bond; Jesse now trusted her with his life.

Memories flooded him: confronting Thunder Lizards, battling harpies in Stonetalon, the perils of Maraudon, the demonic clash in Eldre’Thalas…

On the beach, his gaze fell upon the two-meter-tall Tauren. Mosa stood apart, staring motionless at distant sails veiled in mist, lost in contemplation.

Nearby, Night Elf sentries conversed with Vereesa. She approached the group moments later. “They’ll ferry us near the Cape on Tanaris’s eastern shore. The map suggests a two-to-three-day trek north to Steamwheedle Port. They warn that nearing the port risks encounters with goblin or pirate vessels.”

“Acceptable,” Jesse nodded. “The coast is far kinder than the deep desert. We’ll walk to Steamwheedle Port…”

“Mm.” Vereesa’s eyes met Mosa’s. “Mosa Woodmane. This is farewell.”

Mosa enveloped Vereesa in a crushing embrace. Vereesa buried her face in the Tauren’s chest. Jesse saw her shoulders shake slightly twice before she pulled away, head bowed to hide her face, and turned towards the dock.

“Mosa, I’ll return,” Gred declared, patting her side. Mosa scooped the dwarf up. “Then I shall wait, Gred of Aerie Peak. Always.”

After releasing Gred, Jesse faced her. “Seek us on the other continent if trouble finds you, Mosa. Ask for Vereesa Windrunner. Any long-eared, fair-haired elf resembling her will guide you to us.”

The Tauren strode over and lifted Jesse off his feet. He was stunned; he’d felt Mosa’s disdain throughout their journey—Tauren despised demons and distrusted wielders of dark magic. She’d scarcely spoken to him, far less than to the others.

Setting him down, Mosa murmured, “Jesse Seso. You are a good warlock. Protect Vereesa. Protect yourself.”

Jesse mumbled acknowledgment, about to offer a hollow pleasantry like ‘take care too,’ when his eyes caught the Celebras horn hanging at Mosa’s waist.

“Listen. Journey north to Ashenvale, to Mount Hyjal… Mosa. Seek Celebras. Seek his kin, your ancestors. They teach the Druids. Learn their deeper magics to aid your people. They know you descend from nature’s faithful. They know you aided Zaetar’s spirit in Maraudon. They will welcome you.”

“Trust your instincts. Forge alliances with other Tauren tribes, Mosa. Do not let your people stand divided.”

Mosa paused, absorbing his words. “I shall remember.”

“My counsel rarely errs, yes?” Jesse turned and hurried after Gred and Vereesa.

Alone on the beach, the Tauren stood deep in thought, then nodded slowly.