It was finally night.

Thrall stood beside Doomhammer and Hellscream, at the head of hundreds of their brethren. The orc army lay hidden in the shadow, thankful for the absence of Azeroth's twin moons. The humans possess poor eyesight in the dark, a weakness that would aid the orcs well on this night. However, despite this boon from nature, Thrall could not help but feel a little uneasy.

It was not hard to wonder why. For the first three camps, Thrall had inspired his incarcerated brethren within by infiltrating them as a broken orc. Each time, Thrall had found relative ease in hiding amongst his broken kin and teaching them about the old ways, bringing hope to them. Only when he had felt that they were ready did he signal Doomhammer and the others to come and save them from their human imprisoners. However, on the third camp, Thrall had been recognized, and knowing how swift communications between humans, there was no doubt that the remaining camps would be on alert, suspicious of any orc that they would catch that look remarkably by Thrall.

When he had relayed this piece of information to his fellow leaders, they had all agreed that to continue with such a routine would be too risky. They had to spend many hours wondering how to bring hope back to the orcs within the camps, for even if they would break down the walls, if the prisoner was unwilling, they would not walk out.

That was when Thrall had an epiphany.

"Humans talk," He had said, recalling his time in captivity under Blackmoore’s thumb. His human guards had spoken freely of important matters in his presence, clearly thinking that the dumb orc that they were guarding was too stupid to understand what they were speaking. Little did they know that Thrall had learned much, and remembered too much. " They think us dumb brutes, and speak freely around us. While the camps may know of my involvement now, they will talk of the breakouts in the presence of the prisoners, without care that there might be eavesdroppers." Thrall frowned, remembering the unpleasant memories of how the humans back at Durnholde gossip without care in Thrall's presence, while it had been extremely demeaning, he had appreciated the opportunity to learn about the world outside. "We can only hope that the orcs within would listen and take heart."

And so now they stood, watching the camp from afar, Thrall gripped the mammoth broadsword in his hand tightly, eagerly waiting for Doomhammer's signal to proceed.

The Warchief strode ahead, with his namesake weapon in hand. The Doomhammer was a massive weapon, a one-handed hammer made from some kind of heavy dark iron. The weapon’s namesake casually swung it up into the air, catching the attention of the entire army with the weapon's motion.

Holding the mighty weapon aloft, he nodded to Thrall, indicating to him to start. Thrall nodded in response and looked up into the cloudless sky, closing his eyes, he called out to the spirits of the fire and water to aid him. Heat churned in his belly, contrasted by icy coolness that filled in his head as the two spirits responded.

Please lend me your aid to free my brethren. He asked.

And they agreed.

Clouds gathered as rain began to fall. Lightning danced across skies, moving as Thrall willed. A bolt split into three, forming a jagged fork in the sky before Thrall guided it down, the lightning striking against the walls of the Internment Camp. A terrifying clap and blinding light filled his ears and eyes as the sound of an explosion tore through the gathered storm. As his sight dimmed, he could see from the remaining tongues of flames scattered in the debris that where once stood the wall, there now was a crater.

The wall has been breached.

Doomhammer swung his weapon down, and the nearest orcs charged, surging forward. Their neighbors followed them and soon, illuminated by the fires that were still spread around, a veritable green tide rolled towards the internment camp. The tide roared, and while Thrall could hear the humans crying out in response as he rushed forward, he could hear a similar roar in response from within the camp.

His heart leapt.

He was right to believe, his brethren had clung to hope. And now, the new Horde was here to answer that hope.

Sunset had almost finished her work when the world shook around her. Taretha had dropped by, a tray of food for her, allowing the redhead to take a much-needed break. The two had sat in the middle of the dining hall, the room Sunset had chosen to draw her matrix in and were chatting idly when it began to rain.

"Strange," Sunset had muttered as she stared out of the window, "it was supposed to be clear skies for the week."

"How did you know?" Taretha had asked.

"Magic," She had shrugged in reply.

Then the world shook as light filled Sunset's vision. Out of reflex, Sunset muttered a spellword to keep herself standing and another one to adjust her vision appropriately. Quickly, she rushed over to Taretha, who had fallen over in the aftermath.

"What's going in?" The blond girl asked, as Sunset held a glowing hand to her eyes, restoring her sight immediately as well. Before Sunset could reply, she heard it. The roar of hundreds of voices.

Orcs. Sunset realized, The orcs are attacking.

Then she heard it, over the clamor of the panicked voices of humans. Another roar from within the camp.

And the orcs are rebelling.

There was no time for her to think. Quickly, Sunset drew a glyph in the air and reached out into the hidden arcane space and brought forth an intricate staff that had a single carefully fractured jewel laid into its tip. It had been a farewell gift from Magister Rommath, and had powerful enchantments woven into its structures, with plenty of room remaining for Sunset to weave her own into it and strengthen it when she had the time.

She had hoped to have some time to do so, but now she regretted putting the task aside for so long. The spells within the staff would have to do for now. Considering the number of voices she had heard and as plagued by fatigue as she was, Sunset could only hope that it was enough.

Quickly, she fished out a small charm from within her pockets. It was a small thing, shaped like a little glass bottle but it was something that Sunset had prepared for civilians in case of emergencies. Urgently, she pressed one into Taretha’s hands.

“A seeking charm.” She told the confused girl. “It will always point to me, so that you can find me if you get lost. If you are in danger, break it. It will bring you and only you to where I am, no matter how far you are. Understood?” A bit of exaggeration, but Sunset was sure that the spell was powerful enough that it would still work even if she stood just outside the forests of Quel'Thalas.

The frightened girl nodded and flinched a little as a large figure seemed to smash into the main door of the hall, which thankfully held.

"Good, go to the kitchens then," She told her companion, "go!” The frightened woman nodded and rushed into the kitchens, where Sunset could see the chefs ushering her in and boarding up the door.

She will be safe. Sunset turned and faced the entrance. She had a job to do.

She began to walk towards the door when it finally gave way, opening up to a powerful green figure bulling its way into dining hall. The orc's piglike eyes squinted as he registered Sunset and roared, waving an axe in the air in challenge.

Sunset replied by pointing at the orc with her staff and muttered a phrase. A glyph formed in front of her, and multiple purple missiles poured forth from it, each crackling with arcane might as they flew towards the surprised orc and smashed into his torso. The orc stood no chance and was sent flying out of the dining hall, his chest caved in by the attack.

The body twitched as Sunset pensively approached. Noting that he was dead, Sunset clenched her teeth grimly. No matter how much time passed, it would seem that she still had yet to get used to the act of taking another's life.

Or perhaps it was the fatigue getting to her.

Focusing, Sunset continued her path forward, muttering spellwords and drawing glyphs. She reinforced her wards, drawing vital mana from the hidden manastones she had on her person even as she sent her senses forth, probing for information about the situation. Pulling her crystal ball out, she looked into it as her spell took effect and what she saw shocked her.

There are so many.

The outside of the camp was filled with green bodies. There were hundreds of them, and she could see more pouring in from the breach in the wall.

"Sunset!"

She looked up and saw Orys striding over with his group of knights, who had clearly gone through the thick of the fighting to reach her, given the blood on their persons. Orys removed his helmet as he approached, a concerned look on his features.

"Are you okay?" The sergeant asked and nodded as Sunset answered in the affirmative, he grinned wryly, "it looks like we won't be needing that spell you are working on anymore. Are you fit to fight?"

"Give me the order and you’ll see," Sunset shot back with a smile of her own. Privately, she was grateful that she was not trembling.

"Good, we will need your help." Orys frowned, "where's Taretha?"

"I told her to hide."

"Good choice," Orys nodded as he turned, replacing the helmet on his head and unlimbered a battleaxe, "follow me, we need to reinforce the others!"

The knights yelled in affirmative and as practiced, formed a defensive cordon around Sunset, giving her a degree of security from which she could wreak havoc upon the enemies. The group exited the building, and immediately Sunset was bombarded by the senses of the battlefield.

It was unlike anything she had experienced before. The fights she had been in the past with the Alliance were small skirmishes and now felt minor compared to the barrage bombarding her senses. The stench of blood, urine and feces assailed her sense of smell, shrieks and groans assaulted her ears over the clash of steel on steel and the thousands of images that filled her sight no matter what direction she looked.

For a moment, Sunset felt overwhelmed and would like nothing better than to crawl back into the relative safety of the building to hide away from all the chaos.

"--et! Sunset!"

Sunset blinked, the discipline instilled in her by the Kirin Tor taking over as she faced Orys who was shaking her shoulders. The man's eyes were filled with worry, but Sunset waved away the concerned man with a trembling hand. Drawing a deep breath, she stilled her nerves and focused.

The world stilled for a moment as Sunset gathered her thoughts, pooled her mana and formed the words. And then all hell broke loose as the battlefield raged around her like a storm.

And she was the eye.

The Knights were dutiful, with shields as large as their bodies, they held the orcs back even as Sunset rained spell after spell into their midst. Even as she chanted an enchantment to fortify her comrade's armor, she drew a glyph and sent a lance of searing fire into an orc that had broken through the lines and was charging towards her, incinerating their torso. Noting how damp the ground was, Sunset gestured and magically gathered the water to an area under a group of orcs that were advancing on her group. The ground and the snow above it turned to mud, before it gave way entirely, causing multiple greenskins to lose their footing and trip on each other. A knight suddenly yelled for her attention, and Sunset looked and gestured, gathering the cold snow around the knight and her two comrades before making the gathered frost explod with icy force, pushing back and freezing the orcs who were about to overrun them.

As she threw out spell after spell, what little snippets of the battlefield imprinted themselves in her mind. A group of man bringing down an orc covered in blood and mud, a massive orc with a black jaw who had screamed so loud that orcs and humans alike retreated terrified from him. A group of orcs rushing about the battlefield, breaking into the sheds and ushering their imprisoned kin out. Each image burned itself into Sunset's mind, threatening to overwhelm her thoughts.

However, one thing had terrified her immensely. A large orc, clad in black plated armor, the golden rim on the plates glinting in the fires of the battlefield. This one wielded a massive black hammer and moved gracefully in the battle, appearing to weave through the battlefield and leaving one dead opponent after another in his wake. However, it was not just his physical abilities that amazed, as Sunset followed his trail, she could see that wherever he went, the orcs in his presence fought more ferociously, as though bolstered by his presence.

That one must be Orgrim Doomhammer, Sunset realized pensively as she instinctually tightened her grip on her staff. The legendary leader of the orcs who had escaped from captivity. A warmonger, as Admiral Daelin Proudmoore had called him. And now that Sunset had seen him, she could believe it. Wherever he fought, the orcs pushed back the humans, turning the tide of battle in that area with just his presence.

And he had noticed her.

Intelligent eyes locked gazes with her and the mighty warrior advanced upon her group, flanked by groups of orc warriors rushing ahead. Sunset could see him gaze at the remnants of her spell casting, could watch the hostility on his unmoving features as he clearly registered her as a threat.

The great warrior marched forward, undeterred by the battle raging around him. Any soldier foolish enough to obstruct his path was quickly struck down by his massive hammer and even Sunset’s spellslinging fared no better in keeping him away. The massive orc in black armor was smart, always placing fighters between Sunset and himself, never offering a clear line of fire to Sunset. Slowly but surely, he made his way across the battlefield towards Sunset’s group of knights.

And that was not the only problem.

There are too many of them. Sunset realized. And it was not just them. The entire camp was outnumbered, the few brief glances out to the raging battle showed her the sight of small pockets of humans fighters slowly getting overwhelmed.

Sunset grimaced as an axe hurled by an unknown assailant bounced off her wards, feeling acutely her quickly depleting mana reserves. It was unlikely that she could keep this up for long.

"Orys!" She yelled out over the din of the battlefield, taking a brief break from her spellcasting to do so but keeping her eye fixed on the massive approaching figure clad in black armor.

"What?" The man shouted back even as he stood his ground against an orc twice his size.

"I am running dry!" She shouted, "we need to retreat!" She spied a clear shot at Doomhammer and sent a hail of frozen spikes at him. To her surprise, the orc stood his ground and lashed out with the hammer at his side, smashing the spikes with a series of rapid attacks.

“Orys?!” Sunset yelled again, a little bit of panic seeping into her voice.

The sergeant quickly dispatched his foe before turning back to her and finally seeing the unmistakeable figure approaching in the distance. Swiftly, he repositioned himself and two other knights so that they will stand between Sunset and the Horde Warchief when he reached them. “What do you have in mind?”

"I can teleport us out!" Sunset flinched as an orc somehow slipped past the knights, swinging a massive broadsword at her. Pointing her staff at him, Sunset called forth a massive gust of wind that sent the warrior flying. "Do I do it now?"

"How many can you get out of here?" Orys cried as he rushed to her side, battleaxe at the ready to cover her, an act she was silently thankful for. The man was a reliable ally in a scrap.

"Probably thirty, maybe more if I can find a quiet place." Said Sunset, glad that she no longer needed to shout to communicate with him. Doomhammer was a lot closer now and despite the presence of Orys and his knights, Sunset did not even feel remotely safe with the added security.

"Then we should get the non-combatants out too." Orys decided. "You sent Taretha to the kitchens to hide?" He glanced at her, to which she nodded in reply. "Then we fight our way there!"

"I can give us an opening," declared Sunset as she reviewed her reserves, noting that they were just enough for a few more spells to buy them some time. Hopefully, it will be enough to fend off the black armoured orc, who had been thankfully waylaid by a group of soldiers.

It was fortunate for Sunset, though not as fortunate for those brave men.

"Good, do it now!"

At the command, Sunset gathered the arcane power, noting the undesirable circumstances for her chosen spell. Still, it was the one best suited for the situation and if it required a bit more mana, then so be it. Clutching the staff in her hand and calling forth the magic within, the gust of wind that she had summoned roared again. Watching as the wind raged, she chanted words of power and despite the damp ground upon which they stood and the snow that still fell around her, a fire began to rise, carried by the wind into the sky and forming a towering column of flames that melted the snow for dozens of meters around.

The orcs fell back at this display, the unfortunate ones that were too close to the roaring inferno crying out in fear and pain as they were consumed by the flames. Most importantly was the fact that even the legendary Warchief of the horde fell back from this display of power, Sunset even took the opportunity to sway the tower of flames in his direction, forcing the orc and his warriors to quickly retreat from what was most assuredly a painful demise. Taking advantage of the brief respite, Orys ordered the group to move, and Sunset followed them without thinking, her mind still focused on maintaining the spell.

Only to stumble and clutch her head in pain as a bolt of lightning lanced down from the sky, it cut a jagged line from the sky as it scattered the column of fire into so many petals of flame drifting across the battlefield with incredible explosive force. Sunset instantly recoiled as the feedback from her shattered spell flooded her arcane senses, overwhelming the wards in place that had been starved of mana. She remained dimly aware of a figure picking her up and dashing away, of Orys yelling out orders somewhere next to her, of the hearty cheer of the orcs against the desperate cry of the humans.

What had broken her spell? Sunset wondered, even as unsure if she would want to know the answer to that question as she desperately tried to refocus her senses.

Thankfully, her senses soon returned to her, and Sunset became aware of Orys next to her, the man dabbing a wet cloth at her face.

"I'm awake, thank you." Sunset muttered, blinking as she made sense of her surroundings. They were indoors, in what could only be a hallway leading away from the great hall. She could just make out a group of soldiers fighting at the doorway, holding the orcs outside at bay. Blinking away the haziness in her vision, Sunset tried tried to stand, becoming just a little self-conscious when she realised that man had been carrying her through the hallway.

“Please let me down.” She asked, hoping that nobody else was looking.

“Ah, my apologies.” The sergeant knelt, gently lowering her to the floor, “are you fine?”

“Yes,” she replied as she pushed her feet down on the floor, taking a moment to regain her balance before turning to the sergeant, “thanks.”

Orys nodded before gesturing at her to follow, leading her down the hallway to a warehouse of some sort.

"Sunset!" She turned to see Taretha running towards her, Major Waryk and another female soldier following close behind. The major looked a little worse for the wear, a bloodstained bandage wrapped around his forehead in addition to the dented and blood-spattered armor he had donned. The woman beside him fared little better, but her eyes were sharp and focused, indicating that she was used to this.

“You are okay!” Sunset could hear the relief in the sergeant’s voice.

"I am okay, Taretha," Sunset replied. "Where is this?"

"In the warehouse behind the kitchens." Waryk replied promptly, "we have lost too much ground and the orcs had begun ransacking the place and freeing what was left of their brethren that we have imprisoned. They effectively have free reign of the place as of now and are just securing the area." The man sighed before he looked at her, "I have heard that you have something prepared to help us escape them, can you still do it?"

Can I? Sunset closed her eyes, feeling for what's left of her reserves. She grimaced as she noted how little there was after the feedback incident. She then opened her eyes, checking the number of people in the area before declaring."I can, but I'll need time."

"We can buy you as much time as you need." Major Waryk replied as he turned to the woman at his side, "lieutenant, gather the soldiers and tell to grab boxes, boards and timber." He ordered, "as soon as the knights beat the brutes back, we will board up the door." The woman saluted and quickly went about relaying his orders to the gathered personnel in the room.

"Sunset," Orys whispered as the major left to help, "what happened just now?"

"Someone broke my spell," replied Sunset, she shot a quick frown at the man, "the orcs have someone troublesome with them."

Someone apart from Doomhammer…

"Will they be able to interrupt with the teleportation?" Orys asked, his worry clear on his face.

"I doubt it." Sunset muttered reassuringly, but held her thoughts private on the matter.

If they could, then may the gods help us.

Thrall was in the thick of fighting when the flame column appeared. With a swift slash of his sword, he cut down the human he was fighting and clambered quickly to a better vantage point to see the spectacle for himself.

Who did this? His eyes scanned the crowd. The flames were unnatural, given how the column was shaped, so this could only be the work of a spellcaster. However, where were they?

There! He could see them, a group of knights huddled around a woman clad in violet robes. The group was making their way back towards the main compound of the camp and Thrall could see the mage holding up a staff as they made their way back.

Kirin Tor. Thrall's eyes narrowed in recognition. He had heard about them from the conversations of the guards who had thought him too dumb to listen. They were said to always be clad in their signature violet robes and that they were a cut above the wizards that Blackmoore had in his employ. Thrall had always wondered if he would ever see one of them in person.

Unfortunately, it would appear that he would have to face one today.

Still, while leaving the mage alone was a problem, he had other, more pressing matters to attend to. Running towards the breach and away from the fighting, Thrall stopped as soon as he believed he was safe and closed his eyes.

Spirit of the flame, I request your aid. He called.

In his mind's eye, a bright white fire lit, and Thrall bowed his head.

Thrall, son of Durotan, you call again for me so soon?

Forgive me, Thrall picked his words carefully. Of the natural spirits of the world, the spirit of fire was the most abrasive, the most unpredictable. But I would not have asked for you if there was no choice.

I request your aid to dispel the unnatural fire, he said, urgency rising in him as he heard the cries of pain of his brethren consumed by the flames. it has claimed many of my kin's lives and would burn many more. Water cannot douse it, but your lightning can scatter it.

The flame is wielded by one who would use it as you use your sword, The spirit argued, why would you want me to show favoritism in this battle so? Would you have me turn the weapons in your enemies' hands to ashes too? They demanded, a hint of outrage in their voice.

Thrall nodded, understanding the reasoning of the spirit despite its refusal. The spirits were natural forces of the world, and sought to preserve the balance above all else. However, he could not give up yet.

The fire is used as a weapon, yes. He agreed, but my warriors and I fight for the freedom of our kin. We intend to leave once they are free so that more lives are not unnecessarily lost. Leaving the flame column standing would claim more lives than this fight requires. As such, I beseech your aid.

Silence reigned in Thrall's head as the Spirit of Fire considered. It remained for a little longer still, leaving Thrall worried that the spirit would refuse his request.

Then a deafening clap of thunder caused Thrall to open his eyes and watch as a jagged bolt of lightning split the flame column into so many little petals of fire. Thanking the spirit for their help, Thrall gripped his broadsword and returned to the fray.

As he struck down human after human and directed his warriors to free their imprisoned kin, Thrall kept an eye out for the violet robed mage. While it would be possible to ask the spirit's aid again should another spell of such magnitude be used, Thrall would rather cut off the source of the problem before it would become one.

"Thrall!"

"Hellscream!" Thrall exclaimed as he turned, recognizing the voice. The chieftain of the Warsong clan looked terrifying, as he marched up to Thrall. Clasping their hands, Hellscream grinned.

"I presume you dispelled the fires?"

"The spirits were generous," Thrall replied. "But why are you here? Were you not in charge of stopping the humans from coming out of the compound?"

"They have retreated further in." Hellscream reported, pointing a hand at the Keep. "I have left a group of warriors to hunt them down while we come to help our broken kin escape!"

The fight goes well then. Thrall noted. "There would be no need to chase them down." He said to his friend, "we are only here to release our brethren." He took a quick look around, "we should check if all the prisoners have escaped, then we can retreat."

"Very well," Hellscream saluted, "I shall go to relay your orders."

It was then that Thrall felt a small prickling on the back of his neck. Something unlike anything he had felt before. No. Thrall corrected himself, he had felt this once before, before the flame column appeared. Quickly, he asked the spirits for their aid, to direct him to the location of this unnatural power. The Spirit of Air volunteered, and a small breeze of fresh air caressed his face, a clear indication for Thrall to follow.

"Hellscream, change of plans." Thrall ordered, "I need you and your warriors to follow me!"

"Understood," replied Hellscream as he called out for a group of orcs to follow them.

The fighting has dwindled and as such, it had become easier to navigate the battlefield. Thrall followed the breeze to behind the building, where it stopped in front of a wall. Thrall laid a hand of it, feeling the unnatural energies building up apprehensively.

"It is behind here." Thrall said, for the benefit of the confused warriors that had followed him. Closing his eyes, he beseeched the Spirit of Earth to open the way.

The ground shook, and the wall cracked. As the tremors intensified, the section of the wall broke and crumbled, letting Thrall see within the building.

It was a storage room of sorts, and Thrall could see multiple humans within, all looking at him with shocked expressions on their faces. At the far end of the room, he could see a group of humans holding the door against what could only be Hellscream's warriors battering on the other side. However, as his eyes traveled close, he could only gape in wonderment as he looked at the violet robed woman about ten feet away from him, hands glowing in power. Or more accurately, at who was directly beside her.

"Taretha?"

"Thrall?"

Then a flash of light filled his vision and when it cleared, she was gone.

Author's Note

As promised, the new chapter a week earlier. Hope the edits don't feel rushed and that you all enjoyed it!