Sylvanas and The Jailer oversee a Mawsworn crafting a weapon.
Sylvanas: Sire Denathrius has been taken prisoner. What is our plan to recover him?
Jailer: Every soul has its purpose. Denathrius has fulfilled his.
Jailer: We must forge our next weapon.
Sylvanas: He is not ready.
Jailer: Then a more direct approach is necessary. We have not come this far for you to falter now. You know what must be done.
The scene changes to Anduin, still kept prisoner. Sylvanas approaches.
Anduin: Ah... there she is again. You know, these endless lectures of yours...
Sylvanas: ... have failed to convince you. Regardless, the conversation is over. One way or another, we will have have you.
Sylvanas: So I will offer this... one last time. Join our cause, or be made to serve.
Anduin: What kind of choice is that? Why even give me...
Anduin: ... It's the choice you never had. Despite all your grand designs, there's still some shred of your mortality haunting you. As if the Banshee Queen hasn't entirely eclipsed the Ranger-General.
Sylvanas: Don't.
Anduin: Now I understand why you brought me here. Why you tried so hard to persuade me. Because if you can get me to let go of hope, you finally can too.
Sylvanas: Enough!
Sylvanas points a weapon at Anduin, which looks very similar to a runeforged version of Shalamayne.
Sylvanas: Submit! You are only making this harder on yourself.
Anduin: Not harder on me... right now, you, with all the power... how would you use it?
Sylvanas: I've not come this far to falter now.
Anduin: Then why do you hesitate?
Anduin: Make your choice, Sylvanas Windrunner.
