“She had been young at the time, but Shandris herself had fought in the war by Tyrande's side. The naga had failed to reclaim the glory of their ancestors, but she hated them with a ferocity that set her teeth on edge. Still, she waited, letting them move in until the timing was right. Closing her eyes, she began to whisper an ancient prayer to Elune, each word grounded in faith and reverence, just as Tyrande had taught her long ago when she had trained as a priestess of the moon goddess. The serpents encircled the night elf general, and she heard more than one low laugh of amusement ripple among them as she finished uttering the sacred words.
Elune's answer came swiftly. Streams of energy felled all of the naga around her even as they gaped in disbelief. When the last rattling death cry was silenced, Shandris surveyed the corpses in grim satisfaction.
‘Your faith was always weak, Highborne filth.’”
Tyrande Whisperwind: Seeds of Faith by Valerie Watrous; pg. 6