The orc finally broke out of his meditation and scrambled to his feet. “Lady Ysera, I have started without you. My apologies.” “I am here only to aid you when needed,” the green Aspect assured him. “If I may ask, how did the meeting go?” “Progress was made,” Ysera forced herself to say before changing the subject. “Shall we begin?” “Yes.” Thrall sat back down, and Ysera mirrored him. She had learned long ago that the best means of teaching was through demonstration. While Thrall’s spirit melded with the earth, she would bind herself to Nordrassil’s roots. The magics were different, but the principles of concentration were alike.
“Have you experienced the same troubles of late?” Ysera asked. Thrall had spoken of his failure to connect with the earth beyond Hyjal as if there were mental barriers blocking his spirit. The orc was determined to understand his new abilities, but he appeared hesitant to venture too far into Azeroth. “I have.” Thrall wrinkled his brow in frustration. “It is as if I were standing in the surf of a great ocean. The farther I wade into the deeps, the more distant I feel from the shore…” “Thrall,” Ysera said as she scooped up a handful of dirt and placed it into the orc’s left palm. “This is Azeroth. If your spirit can enter this soil, it can tread anywhere.
Hyjal is not a magic anchor; it is the same earth that lies beneath the streets of Orgrimmar or the jungles of Stranglethorn. This world is one body.” “One body…” The orc regarded the soil and laughed heartily. “Oftentimes the most difficult problems are solved by the simplest answers… the things that are right before our eyes. My old tutor, Drek’Thar, once told me that many years ago. You have much in common with him. No matter what obstacles I encounter, you always know how to overcome them.” Ysera willed herself to smile as the irony of Thrall’s words hit her. “This will be my anchor.” The shaman clenched his hand around the dirt.