Yet Tyr and the other keepers disagreed. Through bravery and self-sacrifice, the proto-dragons had earned the right to act as Azeroth’s guardians. Despite Odyn’s continued protests, the other keepers moved forward with their plans.
After the proto-dragons defeated Galakrond, the keepers journeyed to the frozen tundra where the final battle had taken place. Even Ra traveled from the distant south to take part in the great ceremony that was to come. Acting as conduits of their creators’ powers, the gathered keepers bestowed the blessings of the Pantheon upon each proto-dragon.
Highkeeper Ra channeled the powers of his creator, Aman’Thul, into the proto-dragon Nozdormu. Of all of Aman’Thul’s myriad powers, Nozdormu was blessed with a mastery of time itself. Henceforth, Nozdormu became known as the Timeless One, and he held dominion over the interweaving pathways of fate and destiny.
The nurturing and ever-merciful Freya called upon her creator, Eonar, to empower the proto-dragon Alexstrasza. Known thereafter as the Life-Binder, Alexstrasza would devote everything she was to the stewardship of the living world. Having proved her courage and compassion in the battles against Galakrond, she was crowned the Dragonqueen and given command over her kind.
Freya also beseeched Eonar to bless Alexstrasza’s younger sister, the proto-dragon Ysera, with nature’s influence. Ysera was charged with keeping watch over the flowering wilds of Azeroth from within the Emerald Dream. Bound to this ethereal realm, she descended into an endless trance and became known thereafter as the Dreamer.
Keeper Loken called on his creator, Norgannon, to endow the proto-dragon Malygos with incredible arcane powers. Henceforth, Malygos would be known as the Spell-Weaver. The limitless realms of magic and hidden arcana would be his to share, explore, and protect.
Lastly, Keeper Archaedas asked his creator, Khaz’goroth, to bestow some of his vast power upon the indomitable proto-dragon Neltharion. Known afterward as the Earth-Warder, Neltharion was given charge over the mountains and deep caverns of the earth. He embodied the strength of the world and served, for many long ages, as Alexstrasza’s greatest friend and confidant.
Bristling with the Pantheon’s energies, the five proto-dragons transformed into immense and graceful creatures. Nozdormu’s hide took on a bronze hue like a sea of shimmering golden sand. Alexstrasza’s scales turned a deep and vivid shade of red. Ysera’s lithe form became a vibrant green to reflect her new connection with nature. Malygos turned an icy blue color, and his very scales radiated potent arcane energies. Neltharion’s rough hide became an earthy black.
From that day forward, these five extraordinary beings would become known as the Dragon Aspects.
The keepers also sought to create a new species to help the Dragon Aspects protect the world. These beings would serve the Aspects as consorts and allies. To this end, the keepers magically altered hundreds of proto-dragon eggs. From them would emerge creatures born in the image of the Aspects. This new race, known as dragons, would form five distinct flights: bronze, red, green, blue, and black.
Though each of these flights would serve a different Dragon Aspect, they would all be bound by their duty to protect Azeroth. To strengthen this bond, the keepers forged a grand tower in northern Kalimdor called Wyrmrest Temple. It would serve as the heart of the dragons’ culture, a sanctuary where they could gather and discuss their activities. But above all, Wyrmrest would stand as a symbol of their unity.
The keepers, satisfied with their work, disappeared back inside their lairs, leaving the Aspects to watch over the living creatures of Azeroth.
As the other keepers were conducting their ceremony to empower the Dragon Aspects, Odyn brooded within the halls of Ulduar. He was furious that his allies had acted against his wishes—the wishes of the Prime Designate. More than that, Odyn believed with all his heart that the Dragon Aspects would fail in their charge to safeguard the world.
For the good of Azeroth, Odyn decided to take matters into his own hands. He would create an elite army of his design, one that he could call on to protect the world should the need ever arise. To fill the ranks of this fighting force, Odyn would look to the mighty vrykul. He had always admired their innate courage and strength. He saw the vrykul, above all other titan-forged, as the perfect expression of the warrior spirit.
Upon returning to Ulduar, Tyr and the other keepers demanded that Odyn abandon his foolish plans. Yet their words had no effect on the Prime Designate. Odyn was single-minded in his focus and unbending in his ideas of what was right. He invited the other keepers to help him create his army. When none stepped forward to join his cause, Odyn announced he would pursue his quest without them.
Odyn secured one of Ulduar’s wings to act as the base for his new army. To permanently separate it from the rest of the fortress and from the other keepers, he called on the titan-forged sorceress Helya. Over the ages, Odyn had come to see her as his adopted daughter. Helya wove a great spell to encase the keeper’s stronghold. Then, focusing all of her power, she ripped the colossal chunk of Ulduar from the earth and lifted it into the cloudy skies. In time, this floating citadel would become known as the Halls of Valor.
From atop his fortress, Odyn bellowed out a proclamation to all vrykul. Those who proved their bravery by dying glorious deaths in battle would live again in the Halls of Valor. Their spirits would be transported to the fortress and given mighty new storm-forged bodies. These champions—these Valarjar—would serve as Azeroth’s foremost guardians. Their deeds would live on in the hearts of all titan-forged forever after.
All that remained was to find a means of ferrying the spirits of the dead to the Halls of Valor. For this, Odyn studied the energies that permeated the Shadowlands. The knowledge he gained would allow him to transform some vrykul into spectral beings known as the Val’kyr. These wraithlike servants would travel between the Shadowlands and the physical world, guiding the souls of worthy vrykul to the Halls of Valor. Yet those who became Val’kyr would be cursed to live as phantom beings for all eternity.
No vrykul volunteered for the grim task of becoming a Val’kyr, and thus Odyn decided he would create his servants by force. Helya admonished the keeper for his willingness to turn the titan-forged into slaves against their will. The argument between her and Odyn grew so heated that the two nearly came to blows. In the end, Helya warned that she would return the Halls of Valor to Ulduar if Odyn did not change his mind.
Odyn saw Helya’s disobedience as a threat not only to his plans, but to the future safety of Azeroth itself. Blinded by his dreams of what the Halls of Valor could become, he struck out at the sorceress. Odyn shattered her physical form and twisted her spirit into the first of the Val’kyr. Helya’s howls of pain and anger rumbled across the surface of Azeroth and pierced into the very heart of the Shadowlands.
This violent transformation would forever darken Helya, but her torment was not finished. Though she loathed Odyn for what he had done to her, she found herself compelled to obey his will. Under Odyn’s command, she set out to transform unwilling vrykul into the cursed Val’kyr.
For ages, Helya and her fellow Val’kyr brought the souls of heroic vrykul to the Halls of Valor. The citadel became filled with storm-infused Valarjar. Odyn trained and empowered each of these warriors. He had no remorse for breaking from the keepers, or for transforming Helya into the first Val’kyr. In Odyn’s mind, everything he had done was for the safety of Azeroth and in honor of the great Pantheon.
The keepers went about their duties on Azeroth, unaware of a new threat that was taking shape in the distant reaches of the Great Dark.
Sargeras, having broken all ties with the Pantheon, meditated on the fate of the universe in isolation. His fear that the void lords had already corrupted other world-souls consumed him. As doubt and despair continued twisting the titan’s every thought, he became more certain than ever that creation itself was fatally flawed. Finally, he concluded that the only way to spare the universe was to purge it in fire. Thus his grand Burning Crusade would beg
in.
To accomplish this Burning Crusade, Sargeras required a vast force of unquenchable rage. He knew of only one place that held such power and potential: Mardum, the Plane of Banishment.
Over the ages, the prison had become bloated with fel magic and vengeful demons. Their presence had warped Mardum, transforming it into a realm of nightmare. Torrents of fel energy ceaselessly bombarded the prison’s walls, bathing the captive demons in a roiling sea of volatile magic.
Sargeras quelled his remaining apprehension and tore the prison asunder, spilling its wrathful denizens into the Great Dark Beyond. The subsequent explosion of fel magic was powerful beyond even what the fallen titan had imagined. Violent energies enveloped Sargeras, surging through his veins and searing his very soul. His eyes burst in gouts of emerald fire. Fel volcanoes ignited across his once-noble form, splitting his skin apart and revealing an endless furnace of blistering hate.
Yet despite these horrific physical changes, Sargeras’s mind remained locked on his one all-consuming purpose. To prevent the void lords from possessing creation, life itself had to be extinguished.
In shattering the prison, Sargeras had ruptured the boundary between the Great Dark and the Twisting Nether. A monstrous celestial maw, limned in a storm of emerald fire, had ripped through the fabric of reality. It would remain a scar on creation—smoldering proof of Sargeras’s madness—for all eternity.
Demons of every shape and size poured into the physical universe from this rift, howling in triumph at their release. Sargeras imbued the ravenous masses with his power, uniting them as one in an inferno of fel magic. Though many demons had previously tapped into the volatile energies of the Nether, none had ever experienced the pure might and rage found in Sargeras’s fel. Some of the creatures grew in size and stature. Still others felt new cunning and intelligence unfold in their minds.
By this point, Sargeras had learned more about the nature of demons—including how to permanently destroy their spirits. He offered a simple pact in exchange for the demons’ newfound power: fight at his command, or be extinguished. It was not a difficult choice.
To thwart the void lords, Sargeras unleashed his new army—his Burning Legion—upon the innumerable worlds of the Great Dark. Never before had the forces of evil been united in such numbers. Sargeras wielded enough power to make disobedience all but unthinkable. None would dream of challenging him, but more importantly, his minions grew to delight in their role as agents of extinction.
The Burning Legion fell upon its first world. Though it did not contain a slumbering titan, it was a world that had been ordered by the Pantheon in ages past. Sargeras’s forces incinerated the mortal civilizations that dwelled there, wiping out dozens of sentient species. When the constellar whom the Pantheon had charged to oversee the world arrived, Sargeras himself annihilated the celestial being.
Aggramar was the first to learn of the constellar’s demise. As more news of the Burning Legion’s atrocities reached him, he hunted down the demonic army. Aggramar arrived just in time to witness the Legion scouring yet another world, and he saw the twisted, fire-wreathed being leading it: his mentor and greatest friend, Sargeras.
Aggramar was stunned. He demanded an explanation from Sargeras. The former champion offered none, only declaring that his Burning Crusade was the sole means to purify the universe. Anyone who stood against him, Sargeras added, would burn in the fires of his Legion as well.
Knowing that he could not sway Sargeras with words, Aggramar challenged his former mentor to single combat. Before the watching eyes of the demon masses, the two greatest warriors the universe had ever known came to blows.
Aggramar soon found himself outmatched. Like all titans, he was uniquely susceptible to fel magic. Sargeras’s ferocious assaults shattered Aggramar’s defenses and sent him reeling in agony. In a final desperate counterattack, Aggramar summoned all the power at his command and struck at Sargeras.
Their two blades met, igniting a furious explosion of fel and arcane power. When the torrent of warring energies finally subsided, Sargeras and Aggramar saw that both of their weapons had been shattered.
Heavily wounded by the blast, Aggramar retreated from the battle and returned to the rest of the Pantheon. Disbelief gripped the other titans as they learned what had happened. The thought of their most trusted and noble warrior falling to darkness shook their faith to the core. The Pantheon could not fathom how to stop such a threat, yet they agreed they could not sit idly by. Girded for war, the combined might of the Pantheon confronted Sargeras and his unholy Legion near a world named Nihilam.
Aman’Thul called out to Sargeras, pleading with him to abandon his mad Burning Crusade. He told Sargeras of Azeroth, a fledgling world-soul with more potential than any of the Pantheon had ever seen, a being strong enough to defeat the void lords in due time. Sargeras listened carefully but was unmoved.
Despite his earlier battle with Sargeras, Aggramar believed that something noble still lingered deep in the former champion’s heart. As a last resort, he laid down his arms and approached the fallen titan. Aggramar recounted tales of their glorious battles against demons, reminding Sargeras of the sacred oaths they had sworn to protect creation. But Sargeras was set in his ways. Nothing the Pantheon could say—nothing even his cherished protégé could say—would ever change his mind.
With a howl of rage and sorrow, Sargeras struck Aggramar down, his ruined fel blade nearly cleaving the titan in two.
Infuriated by this unthinkable murder, the Pantheon launched an all-out assault on Sargeras and his Burning Legion. Stars withered and died as the battle raged across the cosmos, scarring vast stretches of reality. Nihilam, known thereafter as the Doom World, became warped and twisted by the apocalyptic conflict. The titans of the Pantheon wielded powers incomprehensible to mortal minds, yet even they could not overcome Sargeras’s fel-fueled might.
The fallen titan decimated the Pantheon members with fel fire until he had broken their will to fight. To seal their demise, Sargeras summoned a massive fel storm that would consume their bodies and souls alike. Yet just as the furious onslaught of energy washed over the defeated titans, Norgannon made one last attempt to stave off oblivion.
Norgannon bent the raw energies of the universe to his will, weaving a protective shroud around each of the Pantheon titans’ spirits and launching them into the Great Dark. While the titans’ disembodied souls hurtled through the cosmos, Sargeras’s fel storm obliterated what remained of their physical forms.
Unaware that the titans’ spirits had survived, Sargeras declared the Burning Legion victorious. The Pantheon was no more, and he now had tantalizing clues about a powerful world-soul called Azeroth. Yet though Sargeras had learned the name of this nascent titan, its whereabouts remained a mystery. Nonetheless, without the Pantheon to oppose him, he knew he would find the world-soul in time.
And he knew he would have to do so before the void lords did.
The Burning Legion had triumphed over the Pantheon, and Sargeras moved to rally even more demons to his cause. Yet the fight with the Pantheon had exposed a flaw in his seemingly unstoppable army—one that he was determined to remedy.
For all of Sargeras’s vast power and intellect, he could not direct his entire army at once. Demons were vicious and bloodthirsty, but most lacked strategic thinking. Much of the Legion had fallen needlessly to the Pantheon. Sargeras wanted cunning and tactically minded commanders to join his side, and he had seen a place from which to harvest such servants: a world called Argus.
Argus was home to the highly advanced eredar, a race far more intelligent than any other Sargeras had encountered. The eredar hungered for knowledge above all else. By attaining it, they believed they could shape the universe into a better and more benevolent place.
A triumvirate of leaders ruled over the eredar, not by might or fear, but by contemplating the great questions of the cosmos and sharing the answers with their people. The mighty Archimonde had a gift for finding the strengths in th
ose around him. His bold demeanor inspired his followers, filling them with the confidence and the courage to face any challenge. Kil’jaeden, the most brilliant of the rulers, was considered a prodigy even among the gifted eredar. Witty and cunning, he reveled in puzzling out the most confounding mysteries of the cosmos. Last there was Velen, the spiritual heart of the triumvirate. He stood as a relentless champion of peace, whose wisdom could defuse any conflict.
Individually, each member of the triumvirate would have made an excellent leader. But it was together, with each of their strengths working in synergy, that they elevated their people to heights undreamt of.
The eredar’s great cohesion was the ideal solution to the Legion’s weaknesses. Yet to conscript them to his cause, Sargeras would have to corrupt them entirely. In the guise of a radiant and elegant being, he communed with the eredar triumvirate. Sargeras played to their desires, promising them knowledge and unimaginable power. He showed them worlds beyond count over which they might hold dominion, primitive places that the eredar could transform into sanctuaries of peace and intellectual thought.
Sargeras vowed to share with the eredar not only the most obscure secrets of existence, but also the final answer to what he believed was the fundamental flaw in creation. In return, the denizens of Argus would devote themselves to Sargeras’s grand work … and help him remedy that flaw.
The offer awed both Archimonde and Kil’jaeden, who were honored to be part of this grand undertaking. Velen, however, was not convinced. He sensed something strange about the seemingly beautiful and all-knowing creature who had appeared to them.
Velen meditated using an ancient artifact gifted to his race by the holy naaru long before his time—the ata’mal crystal. Through the enchanted relic, he received a horrific vision of the eredar’s future if they sided with Sargeras. They would become horribly disfigured, transformed into demonic beings of depthless evil.
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