Malfurion and Illidan were outside the door discussing how to determine if Malfurion's terrible dream was real, while Tyrande could only hear a limited whisper in the room, but he couldn't hear what the Furious Wind Brothers were saying.

But Tyrande didn't have much energy to pay attention to it—she stared blankly at the golden runes that filled the air, until they were about to fade away, and she realized she had to do something about it as soon as possible.

Tyrande stretched out her fingers, a moon-like glow shining on her fingertips—the color of Tyrande's magic, unlike Illidan—and trembling fingertips reached for the runes, finally completing the magic that Illidan had set up before they dissipated.

Tyrande quickly withdrew her finger as if threatened by some animal's sting—she felt a little guilty and a little frightened, but by this time the magic had already worked, and it was too late to stop.

In front of Tyrande, the oak walls rippled like water, and the brownish color gradually became transparent, like a film that seemed to be pierced at any moment—and Tyrande looked timidly at the wall—and everything next door could be seen.

"Huh? Frost Lady This is in ...... Do what? ”

Tyrande looked at it for a moment, and his good-looking eyebrows suddenly trembled and he muttered in surprise.

……

For Frost Grief, the night of 10,000 years ago was no different from 10,000 years later - she didn't need to eat and rest, but that didn't mean Arthas didn't.

Although very little sunlight penetrates through the Temple of the Moon. But the little magic sword kept counting the time and waited for his master to wake up - however, the night passed, although it was time to get up. But Arthas was still asleep, his chest heaving slightly with his well-toned breathing, but he showed no sign of waking up.

At all this strange time and place, Frostmourn would be bored - but Little Magic Sword quickly found something to pass the time - or rather, it wasn't anything, but her master.

"Whew~Whew~"

The beds in the lounge are cramped. However, Frostmourn's body was nimble and soft, and she crawled around Arthas's side, but she was able to deftly avoid Arthas's body. Won't wake him up.

Fiddling with his pose, Frost Sorrow braced her body with her hands and leaned in front of Arthas, blowing softly on her master's sleeping face. As he blew back, he secretly let out a suppressed laugh.

Her long, silky black hair hangs down slightly. Resting on Alsace's cheek, the slight breath made Arthas's nose tickle a little, and he frowned, his breathing became a little shorter, as if he was about to wake up.

Frost Grief didn't want to wake her master, so she stopped her prank, and stepped back towards the end of the bed with her hands on the tulle bed. Then he sat down between Arthas's slightly separated legs - although there was not much space, Frost Sorrow was still very confident in his body - just enough for the little magic sword to sit down on his own.

As she sat down, Frost Sorrow became interested in the wall around her—she tapped her finger at the oak panel. A mysterious smile appeared at the corner of his mouth - the little magic sword had discovered something interesting, so he ......

Pulling his fingers back from the wall, Frost Sorrow tilted her head in thought, then reached into Arthas's trouser belt - the master was defenseless now, and Frost could do whatever she wanted!

With just a slight pull, Frost Sorrow ripped off Arthas's trouser belt, and then skillfully stripped off Alsace's pants, and after a coquettish "hey", he gently caught the soft "big snake" with his fingers from the not dense hair.

"Hmm...... The master must be too tired, and if he was usual, he would have been about to reach the tip of Xiaoshuang's nose at this time! ”

Frost Grief muttered - for some reason, the little magic sword used elven language.

Although Arthas has been leading the combined forces of humans and dwarves in the continent of Kalimdor to chase those orc remnants to the desert of Silisus, and travel long distances, Arthas is from the royal family of Lordaeron after all, and he cares a lot about his appearance and cleanliness.

Therefore, when Frost Sorrow leaned down on his body, held the baby between Arthas's crotch with his fingers, and sniffed lightly with the tip of his nose, the little magic sword was surprised to find that under the caress of his soft fingers, the master's originally soft lying things suddenly became hard and thick.

"Hey, it doesn't smell like ......"

Frost Sorrow sniffed again, then stretched out the tip of his tongue and licked the tip of Arthas's fiery heap between his legs, rolled the transparent slime that had leaked out slightly at some point into his mouth, smacked his lips, and muttered in a low voice.

The little magic sword blinked and thought about his own affairs as he pinched the fiery roots between Arthas's legs with his hand, fiddling with the already completely erect Benqi into a crooked appearance.

Come to think of it, Frostmourn seems to have forgotten the last time she had done something shameful with her master—it seems that it was before her master left Lordaeron with his mortal army—and after that, Arthas had little time or opportunity to make out with Frostgrief alone, whether at sea or in the barracks.

Little Magic Sword used to like to do shameful things with her master - because that would make Frost Sorrow feel that the changes that had happened in her were real - she was no longer just a cold, talking magic sword, but a real, beautiful girl who could be by her master's side, who could be his wife and his lover.

But then the stupid dragon made the master stronger--Frost Grief thought angrily--After that, Frost was a little bit of no match for the master, and every time he was made dizzy by his master, and it would be painful and swollen for a long time, and it was not easy to walk.

"Fortunately, now the master is asleep, hehe, Xiaoshuang will do something interesting......"

Frost Sorrow glanced at the seemingly featureless wall again, then lowered her body and gently lifted the fiery heat between Arthas's legs into her mouth, her long, dense and silky hair falling down like a waterfall, covering the white and delicate face of the little magic sword, and also covering her slightly undulating movements.

……

Tyrande was nervous right now—at the suggestion of Illidan's bad idea, Tyrande was now next door to Arthas and the Frostmourning Lounge, spying on the two men's every move through a small spell. (To be continued......)