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She had taken her flagship, the Windrunner, to Stormheim in the Broken Isles, in search of more Val'kyr to resurrect the fallen. It was, thus far, the only way Sylvanas had found to create more Forsaken. "I was almost able to enslave the great Eyir. She would have given me the Val'kyr for all eternity. None of my people would have ever died again." She paused. "I would have saved them."
"That ... is the corcern."
"Do not dance around this, Nathanos. Speak plainly."
"Not all of them desire for themselves what you desire for them, my queen. Many on the Desolate Council harbor deep reservations." His face, still that of a dead man but better preserved due to an elaborate ritual she had ordered performed, twisted in a smile. "This is the peril you created when you gave them free will. They are now free to disagree."