As Orgrim Doomhammer swung his hammer through the plate armor of a human knight and caved in their chest, he failed to feel the typical exhilaration he felt while in battle.

Instead, he was consumed by nothing but a sense of foreboding.

Ever since they had made landfall in the Hillsbrad Foothills, the war had not gone at all as Orgrim had planned. Despite the superior strength and ferocity of the Horde, the Alliance had proven themselves to be a far greater enemy than he had ever believed possible. That was especially the case once they began sending their monsters to kill the Horde’s brave warriors.

The spider creatures that the humans referred to as ‘nerubians’ were a nightmare to fight on the battlefield. Their arachnathids constantly ambushed Orgrim’s warriors from beneath the ground and swarms of their skitterers devoured fully grown orcs in less than thirty seconds. Their flyers caused constant problems for the Horde’s undead dragons and the standard nerubian soldiers charged through the Horde ranks as if they were human cavalry. They even possessed powerful mages who were more than capable of challenging the Horde’s own spell casters.

Despite all of that, no other variety of nerubian caused more problems for the Horde than the Spiderlords and their pet Jormungars.

Orgrim had seen more than a few battles lost because they lacked the ability to counter the hateful worms that the Alliance used to collapse the Horde’s defensive lines. If his people still had any shamans capable of communing with the elements, this wouldn’t have been a problem.

When he had first allied with Zul’Jin and the rest of the trolls, there had been a part of him that had hoped the troll priests and witch doctors would be able to help guide his people back to the spirits of the land. However, the elements remained silent to his people, and any hope he might have once possessed had already faded away.

The Spiderlords, on the other hand, were massive and intelligent behemoths. The nerubian giants tore through the Horde lines whenever they stepped onto the battlefield. Orgrim had long lost the ability to feel fear, but if he still could, he imagined that the Spiderlords would inspire such a feeling. Throughout the war, the only ones who had succeeded in killing the creatures were the Death Knight Teron Gorefield and that traitorous vermin Gul’dan.

At the thought of Gul’dan, Orgrim couldn’t help but let out a shout of rage as he crushed the skull of another human.

Once it became clear that their enemy was much more powerful than expected, Gul’dan had abandoned the Horde along with the entire Stormreaver clan and anyone else who would follow him at the first opportunity. Orgrim wanted nothing more than to hunt down the traitor, but that wasn’t possible when his Horde was being picked apart from every side.

The damned elves were making constant attacks while retreating behind their impenetrable barrier while the rest of the Alliance were constantly attacking them from the west. The gryphon-riding dwarves attacked them from the air along with the nerubian’s flyers, and Orgrim had even received reports that the Twilight Hammer clan’s camp had been destroyed far behind the front lines!

He had no idea how the Alliance had accomplished such a feat, but there simply wasn’t any time for him to learn more. The enemies of the Horde had smelt weakness and were attacking with the ferocity of a rylak.

Only recently, Orgrim had decided that any further attempts to attack the elves would be useless. The leader of their troll allies, Zul’jin, had argued furiously against the decision, but Orgrim needed to make the best choice for the Horde as a whole. Their food supplies were running out and an army as large as theirs could only be sustained if they were making constant progress. He had decided to direct the Horde toward Capital City and forage more supplies from the human territories. That ended their alliance with Zul’jin, and the trolls broke ties with them to continue their fruitless struggle against the high elves while the Horde moved on.

Unfortunately, progress had stalled.

The humans native to the Alterac Mountains were far more familiar with their land than they were, and the Alliance’s jormungars made passing through such terrain all but impossible. The path through the fertile farmlands known as Eastweald was much more open, but it had already been heavily fortified by the Alliance.

Recently, Orgrim had found himself being forced to face the possibility that the Horde might actually lose this war.

If such a thing was to happen, then there would truly be no hope for his people. Draenor was a slowly dying world that grew more hostile with every passing day, and Orgrim had no illusions that the Alliance wouldn’t take back every inch of land that his people had taken from them. If there was one thing that he had learned over the past few years on this alien world, it was that humans weren’t so different from orcs when angered.

If Orgrim were in their position, he would wipe every single member of the Horde from the face of the world so that they would never again become a threat. He didn’t know if the humans would go to such lengths, but he wouldn’t be surprised if they did.

Orgrim was suddenly pulled from his thoughts as one of the humans took advantage of his distraction and carved a line through his arm with their blade. Feeling the familiar rush of anger and power flow through him, Orgrim roared in fury and swung his hammer with such strength that the human’s head completely left his body.

Enough of this!

Orgrim banished his weak thoughts and threw himself into the battle with a frenzied wrath. If his people were fated to die, then they would do so as true orcs should! Bloody and thrashing in the heat of battle with a weapon in their hand and fury in their heart!

Nobody would ever dare to say that the orcs had dishonored their ancestors by dying quietly. He would tear through the humans and leave a permanent mark on this world that would be remembered for ages to come.

Orgrim didn’t know how long it had been since he had lost himself in the bloodlust of battle, but he was only pulled back to reality when an earthshaking roar passed over the battlefield. When he looked up to see what manner of creature had caused such a sound, Orgrim once again felt the glimmering of fear for the first time since his people had been twisted by the magic of the warlocks.

Flying toward them was a massive red dragon far larger than any Orgrim had ever seen. He had participated in the Horde’s hunts when they drove Draenor’s Magnaron to extinction; at the time, Orgrim had thought he would never see a living creature larger than them.

He now knew he was wrong.

The creature’s mere presence caused a hush to fall over the battlefield until Orgrim pulled himself from his shock and shouted at his Death Knights to engage the beast. Given what the Horde had done to the corpses of its kin, there was no reason to doubt that the creature was an enemy.

The Death Knights hesitated for a moment, but eventually mounted their undead dragons and took to the skies. The undead mounts of the Death Knights were much smaller than the beast flying toward them, but Orgrim hoped that their superior numbers would be enough to bring the behemoth down.

More of their Death Knights had grown skilled enough to control the undead dragons over time, and Cho’gall’s disgusting book continued to lead them to useful corpses. The Horde was now in possession of eight undead dragons, which they used to great effect against the Alliance.

Unfortunately, it almost immediately became apparent to Orgrim that his Death Knights had no hope against the beast. With a furious glint in its eyes, the massive dragon inhaled deeply and released a breath of fire large enough to completely engulf half of the Death Knights and their mounts in flames, instantly reducing them to ash. A swipe of its claws held enough power to annihilate another two undead dragons, and a swing of its tail sent the last two crashing into the earth like meteorites.

The Horde’s most powerful weapons were destroyed in the span of a few breaths.

Orgrim was so shocked by the sight that he did nothing as the dragon flew in his direction and landed on the battlefield directly in front of him. A single beat of its wings created a powerful gale that sent every orc near it stumbling back. The enormous creature looked down at Orgrim for a few moments before it suddenly began to shrink, much to his confusion.

Once it was finished changing its shape, Orgrim found himself looking at a female elf that was significantly taller than any other that he had seen. She wore dark red armor with golden trimming and had two large horns emerging from his head. There was a heavy… presence about her that prevented the nearby orcs from approaching her as she walked toward Orgrim.

As soon as she drew close enough to be heard, the creature wearing the skin of a woman called out to him. “Are you Orgrim Doomhammer, Warchief of the Horde?”

“I am. Who are you, creature?” Orgrim asked as he held tightly onto his weapon.

“I am Alestrasza, Queen of the Dragons and Aspect of Life, and I’ve come to put an end to this war. Instruct your warriors to lay down their weapons,” the woman declared, her voice booming over the battlefield. “I swear that you will all be treated fairly as prisoners, despite the many atrocities you have committed against the mortals of this continent and your acts of desecration against my own kin.”

Orgrim almost wanted to laugh at the woman’s audacity. Instead, he simply grew angry.

“The Horde will never surrender! We conquered our entire world, and it is our destiny to conquer this one as well! If you mean to stand in our way, then we will destroy you just as we did every other obstacle in our path to glory, beast!” Orgrim bellowed before lifting his war hammer and charging the dragon woman with as much speed as could muster.

If the dragon was foolish enough to appear in front of him in such a weak form, then he had every intention of taking advantage.

Orgrim dashed to the so-called ‘Queen of the Dragons’ faster than most warriors would have been capable of and swung at the woman’s head. He knew that his attack carried enough force to even tear through hardened steel, so Orgrim expected the woman to either dodge to the side or have her head crushed like an egg.

Instead, Orgrim was struck dumb as the woman calmly raised a single hand and caught his hammer moments before it was about to strike her head. It felt to him as if he had just attempted to strike a solid plate of adamantite. He attempted to pull his weapon back, but the woman didn’t even stumble as he heaved with all of his strength.

“An impressive weapon. Forged within the heat of elemental lava and carrying with it powerful ancestral magic,” said the woman as she studied the weapon, Doomhammer, that had been passed down through Orgrim’s family for generations, not even seeming to notice Orgrim’s efforts. “After all the horrors that you have unleashed on the mortals of this land, I don’t believe you deserve such an artifact.”

Orgrim was helpless to do anything as the dragon woman easily pulled Doomhammer from his grasp as if he were a child and knocked him to the ground with a single swing to his stomach. He burned with humiliation as the dragon placed a single foot on his chest in front of the astonished gazes of his warriors. Orgrim tried desperately to push her off, but her strength was so immense that he felt as if he was trying to move a mountain.

“This war is over! Your Warchief lies defeated and you have no hope of victory. Your shadowy masters, the demons and black dragons, can not help you. If you value the lives of your family and of your children, you will surrender now!” the dragon woman called out, her voice easily traveling over the silent battlefield.

As his warriors continued to hold on to their weapons and glare unyieldingly at the woman, Orgrim couldn’t help but laugh. “You fool. The Horde will never yield to you. We would rather die with honor than live in cowardice!”

The woman looked down at Orgrim with something vaguely akin to pity. “If your people refuse to surrender, there will be no battle. There will be no honor. Instead, there will only be fire.”

Before Orgrim could reply, he was suddenly interrupted by the echoing chorus of distant roars. With dread, he looked to the source and saw nearly a hundred fully grown dragons flying toward the battlefield.

“What you see, Warchief, is a portion of the Red Dragonflight,” said the woman as she watched the approaching dragons with fondness.

A… portion? Orgrim thought with deep shock.

“The rest are attacking Horde positions elsewhere. They’ve been given orders to capture those who peacefully surrender but make no mistake, if you do not surrender then this entire army will become ash,” the woman said firmly, looking down at him with a weary gaze. “It would pain me deeply to end so many lives, but the Horde is a great threat to Azeroth and I am sworn to protect it. The choice is yours, Warchief. Will you lead your people to a swift end, or will you allow them the chance to live despite the many terrible things they have done?”

Orgrim was silent as he stared up at the approaching dragons and struggled with the choice presented to him. After some time, a wave of deep resignation flowed through him as he made his decision and nodded.

Ordering his generals to surrender was the most painful experience of Orgrim’s life, and the jubilant cheers of the Alliance only made it worse. The other chieftains were reluctant, but the threat before them was insurmountable and Orgrim swore to them that he would be the one to suffer the dishonor of surrender. After receiving such an assurance, they all began to throw down their weapons one after another.

As he was led away in chains, Orgrim couldn’t help but wonder what god he had offended for the Horde to be defeated in such a humiliating manner.

Staring straight ahead from the prow of the ship his minions had stolen from the Horde, Gul’dan could feel his excitement grow as he approached his destiny.

He was moments away from reaching the so-called ‘Tomb of Sargeras’ and seizing hold of the artifact that would transform him into a god. His journey had taken from far, from his beginning as a worthless cripple to the most powerful warlock to ever walk the face of Draenor. He had made deals with demons, orchestrated a war between his people and the Draenei, and corrupted the elements of Draenor so thoroughly that the world was irrecoverable.

All of this, Gul’dan had done in the pursuit of power, and it had been worth it.

His only regret was that he had allowed himself to be humiliated by the pitiful excuse for a Warchief, Orgrim Doomhammer. Unlike his even more pitiful predecessor, Blackhand, Doomhammer had never trusted him and took every possible opportunity to degrade and threaten Gul’dan.

He wished that he could see the look on the fool's face once he realized that Gul’dan had taken a sizable portion of his forces and abandoned the Horde. He knew that his actions didn’t have any particular impact on the outcome of the war—it was clear to anyone paying attention in the past few months that the Horde was going to lose—but Gul’dan knew that the Warchief must have been utterly furious regardless.

Their meaningless war didn’t matter. Once Gul’dan became a god, he would put both the Alliance and the Horde under his control. Kil'jaeden had made a mistake when he told him about this place, and Gul’dan fully intended to take advantage of the power contained within. According to the demon, the Tomb of Sargeras was currently beneath the waves near a chain of islands to the west of the Eastern Kingdoms.

It would take an act of extreme power to raise the tomb from the sea, but Gul’dan was confident in his ability to do so. After several more minutes of sailing, Gul’dan sensed the tomb's potent magical presence and ordered the members of the Stormreaver clan sailing the ship to bring them above it.

Just as he was about to begin the process of raising the tomb, Gul’dan could feel the furious presence of Kil'jaeden in his mind as the demon attempted to contact him.

He had grown powerful enough that the demon wouldn’t be able to form a magical connection with Gul’dan without his consent. Still, he felt like he would dearly enjoy the opportunity to mock his former master before his apotheosis, so Gul’dan allowed a weak connection to form between the two of them.

“Gul’dan, what have you done?” the enraged voice of Kil'jaeden bellowed in his mind. Faced with the demon’s anger, Gul’dan felt nothing but smugness and pride. “You were ordered to aid the Horde against the Alliance and prepare this world for our arrival! Yet you’ve abandoned them at the first opportunity in a mad attempt to seize power that you cannot hope to control? I’m disappointed in you, little orc. I did not think you were so utterly foolish.”

“Even with my help, the Horde was never going to defeat the Alliance,” Gul’dan responded, sneering at the arrogant demon. “If you thought they could last for long against those cursed insects, then you are a far bigger fool than I, Kil'jaeden. Besides, why should I resign myself to being your servant while your master’s corpse is so readily available? Once I absorb its power, there will be no force in this world capable of controlling me. You would be wise to reconsider how you speak to me, demon.”

“I have seen more of the cosmos than you could possibly fathom, Gul’dan. Yet I have only rarely seen anyone as arrogant and reckless as yourself,” said Kil'jaeden, his anger cooling into something more focused. “I had simply planned to quietly watch as the demons within the tomb tore you to pieces, but I had not expected there to be a new ward surrounding the tomb, or that you would so carelessly trigger it.”

Gul’dan’s felt his sneer drop as he heard the demon’s words. Kil'jaeden was not so stupid to utter such an easily verifiable lie, so he immediately cast a spell on his surroundings meant to reveal any hidden magic.

If he had been slightly less powerful, Gul’dan would not have been able to find the ward at all. Its presence was so insignificant that he could barely tell that it existed, yet once he actually managed to spot it, Gul’dan’s heart fell at the unfathomable potency of the arcane magic used to create it.

Whoever created this ward was powerful… too powerful.

“What is this, Kil'jaeden?! You said that the natives of this world wouldn’t be monitoring the tomb!” Gul’dan yelled out loud, not caring about his image as the Stormreaver orcs looked at him as if he was insane.

“They shouldn’t have been. The only mortal to know of this place was Medivh and his mother, Aegwynn. The only other being who could have knowledge of the Tomb would be Malygos, Aspect of Magic,” said Kil'jaeden, his voice smug as he savored Gul’dan’s panic. “He was not worth considering until recently, but the dragons should still not have had any reason to believe someone might attempt to access the tomb. I’m quite curious as to how they knew to expect you, Gul’dan. Perhaps you can ask Malygos while he’s slaughtering you and your worthless servants.”

Gul’dan didn’t want to believe the demon’s words, but the evidence of their truth was all around him. Now that he knew what to look for, he could practically sense a terrifying presence watching him through the wards.

Gul’dan ordered his followers to prepare for battle, but they had little time to do so before a swirling portal of violet magic opened on the deck of the ship. Out of it stepped what appeared to be a blue-haired elf with bright glowing eyes and scales, but Gul’dan could sense the truth behind the creature’s visage.

“Oh? You’re truly here then? How interesting,” the dragon said mildly, sweeping his gaze over Gul’dan and his servants.

“How did you know that I would be here?” Gul’dan furiously demanded as he prepared himself to throw Fel flame at the creature.

“You must be the Burning Legion’s latest puppet, Gul’dan. I have no intention of answering your questions, mortal. Die ignorant.”

Gul’dan was just barely able to redirect the spell that the dragon sent at him toward one of the nearby ogre magi. He watched in horror as the ogre’s flesh immediately crystalized and then shattered into dust. Without the slightest hesitation, Gul’dan ordered his servants to attack and kill the dragon.

He had gone to great lengths to be certain that those present would be utterly loyal to him, so Gul’dan was satisfied to see that they obeyed his orders without question. Their loyalty made it much easier for him to step back and focus on his connection to Kil'jaeden while the dragon carelessly slaughtered them.

“Demon! Grant me the power to slay this creature!”

Kil'jaeden’s response was both immediate and incredulous. “After such blatant betrayal, you still possess the audacity to ask me for power? Watching your death will give me nothing but pleasure, Gul’dan. What makes you believe for even a moment that I would grant you any amount of power?”

“Do you not wish to use this opportunity to kill one of the Burning Legion’s greatest enemies?” asked Gul’dan, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice as he watched the ongoing slaughter. At the rate the dragon was tearing through his servants, he had a mere few seconds before the creature turned its attention to him. “Grant me this power and I will use it to slay Malygos and open the Legion’s path to Azeroth!”

Through their connection, Gul’dan could feel Kil'jaeden's presence shift from mocking doubt to cunning thoughtfulness to malevolent satisfaction, all within the space of a heartbeat. Gul’dan wasn’t sure why, but at that moment his instincts told him that would come to deeply regret the plea that he had just made.

Before he could think about that feeling any further, Gul’dan suddenly felt a flood of Fel magic pour through the connection between him and Kil'jaeden. As more power than he had ever felt flowed through his body, Gul’dan felt as if his very body had transcended some barrier he had never known existed.

Turning to the dragon just as it killed the last of his servants, Gul’dan laughed uproariously and let forth a stream of Fel fire that turned everything between him and the dragon to ash. The corpses of the Stormreaver clan melted away in seconds and it seemed as if the entire ship had been set aflame.

It would be troublesome to raise the tomb once the ship was destroyed, but it was simply more important to kill the dragon with his full power.

Gul’dan knew intimately the power of Fel magic and that his fires had the ability to destroy everything that they touched, whether it be bodies, magic, or even souls. Nothing in this world could survive the power he now held at his fingertips!

“I would almost be impressed if this power was your own.”

To Gul’dan’s great shock, the dragon easily passed through the flames no being should have been able to survive, as the very space surrounding its body seemed to bend and twist the Fel fire away. Gul’dan roared in fury and increased the intensity of his flames, but the dragon ignored him.

“But you are merely a pathetic little vermin borrowing strength from those so far above you.”

Before Gul’dan could react, the dragon grabbed him by the throat and slowly lifted him into the air. As he struggled to breathe, Malygos pulled Gul’dan close and looked deeply into his eyes before speaking. “Now, let me see if everything that I’ve heard about you is accurate.”

Gul’dan attempted to scream in pain as his mind was ripped apart and his memories meticulously examined, but the hand around his throat prevented him from doing so. Eventually, the dragon retreated from his mind and looked at him with a sneer on his face.

“Disgusting. A single mortal allowed his selfish desires to doom an entire world to the Burning Legion? How utterly revolting. Die with the knowledge that you never had any hope of being anything more than the loathsome animal you always were.”

As his body was flooded with an incomprehensible amount of arcane magic and his flesh slowly turned to crystal, the last thing that Gul’dan did before he died was curse the world for being so unfair.

All the while, Kil'jaeden's laughter echoed in his mind.