“They will come for us now. All of them!” he said.
“I know.” She was calm, as though nothing were wrong. “They will attack the Undercity in retaliation. You will need to plan our defenses. Begin evacuating my people.”
He struggled to form words. Finally, pure hatred made him spit out a condemnation. “You have damned the Horde for a thousand generations. All of us. And for what? For what?”
Her expression didn’t waver. “This was your battle. Your strategy. And your failure. Darnassus was never the prize. It was a wedge that would split the Alliance apart. It was the weapon that would destroy hope. And you, my master strategist, gave that up to spare an enemy you defeated. I have taken it back.
When they come for us, they will do so in pain, not in glory. That may be our only chance at victory now.”
He wanted to kill her. He wanted to declare mak’gora and spill her blood in front of Horde and Alliance alike.
But she was right.
A wound that can never heal. That had always been the plan. And Saurfang had failed to inflict it.