I first met Illidan in the early stages of the war, back when I considered the Burning Legion a passing threat. The night elf resistance was headquartered at my family's ancestral home, the great fortress of Black Rook Hold. Those days were glorious to behold. Thousands of elves gathered at the stronghold from the far ends of the empire, all sworn to defend our lands against the demons.
As the daughter of Commander Ravencrest, I enjoyed a position of power and privilege, I attended council meetings with sorcerers from the Moon Guard, priestesses from the Sisterhood of Elune, and other influential figures. I also crossed paths with lesser-known resistance members-elves like Illidan.
Illidan came to Black Rook Hold with his brother, the druid Malfurion Stormrage, and the priestess Tyrande Whisperwind. I met the trio only briefly, and they did not leave any lasting impressions on me. Illidan in particular seemed like just one more sorcerer among the hundreds who had joined the resistance.
Yet soon, everyone would know his name. And some, like me, would come to distrust him.