Chapter 710

Chapter 710: Farewell at Quel’Lin’s

After resting for a night in Silvermoon City, the three returned to Windrunner Village the next day. Jesse and Greed prepared to pack their things and leave Quel’Thalas.

A day later, Vereesa followed them to Quel’Lin’s cottage.

She was now a Ranger Lord, so her responsibilities in Quel’Thalas were heavier than before, meaning she couldn’t leave as freely as she once did.

So it was time to part again.

Greed wrestled with Goergette nearby while Jesse and Vereesa waited.

"Even though I know you’re King Varian’s court mage now, I still wish you could stay in Quel’Thalas," the ranger said.

Jesse replied, "The Feast of Winter Veil is ending soon. I must return to Stormwind quickly—the king needs my help against the Gnolls. But I can come and go from Quel’Thalas freely now. If I get the chance, I’ll visit you, Vereesa."

Vereesa smiled at the gray gryphon’s enormous flapping wings. "I’ll come see you instead. At least I don’t have to pay for Dragonhawk feed like Greed does."

"You’re always welcome," Jesse said.

The elf hugged him tightly. "I’ll miss you, Jesse. Write to me."

"Then write back to me," Jesse murmured, stroking her silver hair.

"I will," the ranger nodded.

Jesse thought their long time together might make farewell easier, but this parting hurt far more than their last one in Thelsamar.

From Vereesa’s expression, he sensed she felt the same.

Last time, they’d known they’d reunite soon in Dalaran. This time, neither knew when they’d meet again.

Vereesa pressed against Jesse’s chest, her voice barely audible. "After you return… will you try summoning that demon soon?"

"Yes," Jesse said.

"Remember to ask for me," Vereesa lifted her head. "Don’t forget."

"I won’t," Jesse replied.

"Do you think…" the ranger whispered, "Alleria is still alive? Have the Dragonmaw Orcs heard anything about Draenor? Even a shred?"

Jesse paused. "I heard the Dragonmaw believe their chieftain Zuluhed lives—likely through some Orc soul-magic bond. Zuluhed even led part of the clan back to the Dark Portal. If they can sense their chieftain’s survival, Draenor might not be fully destroyed. If those Orcs endured, the Expedition could’ve held on too."

His theory was mostly invented; Azeroth’s Dragonmaw had lost contact with Zuluhed long ago.

But Jesse knew Zuluhed survived, organizing the Dragonmaw in shattered Draenor. Soon, he’d ally with black dragons, using void-twisted eggs from the broken world to breed new mounts.

The shadowy hatchlings were dubbed "Spiritwing dragons" by Draenor’s survivors. The Expedition called them Void Dragons.

"Sylvanas will like this news," Vereesa said. "Tell her yourself."

"She stopped calling me ‘Little Moon,’ Jesse. Alleria gave me that name. I thought Sylvanas would accept Alleria’s silence… but she hasn’t. Neither have I."

After a silence, Jesse said, "Wait for my word, Vereesa."

"Jesse! We’re ready!" Greed shouted. Vereesa released him. "Take care of yourself."

"You too," Jesse nodded, turning away.

Climbing onto Goergette, he muttered, "Why the rush?"

"If I hadn’t shouted, you’d have hugged till nightfall!" Greed retorted. "We’d never reach Andorhal before dark!"

The gryphon’s wings lifted them skyward. Jesse glanced back—the gold-green figure by the cottage waved. He waved fiercely, hoping she saw.

Goergette flew fast. Layers of pine swallowed Quel’Lin’s in moments. Unnoticed, Jesse had grown used to gryphon travel, nothing like his first panicked ride in the Hinterlands.

By evening, they neared a grain barn outside Andorhal. Sentries below bellowed for them to halt.

Greed steered Goergette toward the shouts. Lordaeron soldiers staggered in the gryphon’s downdraft, arms shielding their faces. "Afternoon, mage! Gryphon Rider! Headed to Andorhal?"

"Yes!" Jesse called. "Problem?"

Goergette landed. Guards gaped at the oversized beast. Their leader said, "No issue, master. But Andorhal has no perch for such a gryphon. Move on if you’re just passing through."

Greed glanced at Jesse. "You need a nest," Jesse said.

The dwarf nodded. "Any gryphon nests nearby, sirs?"

"North at Hearthglen—but it’s far," a sentry answered. "Closest is south near Lake Darrowmere. Stromgarde troops and Wildhammer gryphons camp there. Easily spotted from the air."

"Go to the southern camp, Greed," Jesse said. "I’ll find you after my business. I’ll wait two or three days—if I can’t locate it by then, I’ll abandon the search."

Greed leaned in. "Certain you’ll find a succubus in that town in two days?"

"Don’t question my demon-tracking," Jesse hissed.

"Fine. If I don’t see you in three days, I’ll hunt you down in Andorhal."

"Deal." Jesse dismounted. "Go—night’s falling."

Greed barked in Language Dwarven, then yelled Goergette’s name. The gryphon’s wingbeat hurled dirt and dead grass, nearly flattening the men.

Coughing through the dust, they watched the gryphon vanish. Riderless Wildhammer fliers always left like that.

"Where’d that monster come from?" a guard muttered, staring skyward. "Never seen one so huge."