Sinafay's Chaos

Magister Vinlan Duskfury triple-checks his timepiece before slipping it back into his phoenix-emblazoned robes, the purple cloth and silver thread dancing in the illuminated streetlights as the evening hour begins to settle. He nods to passers-by as he patiently waits, a product of his constant penchant for arriving quite early. As he glances up to the building before him, he is greeted by a luxurious domicile, one fitting for a Magistrix of Sidori Silverspell’s station.

His mind continues to wander as he paces patiently. His curiosity of the upcoming meeting grows as he thinks of Silverspell, her interests, and her current affairs. The Runesworn project is, of course, well-known and well-regarded, a scholarly mission of safety and security, but how that intersects with Vinlan’s militaristic interests is an item that weighs heavily upon his mind.

As the timepiece clicks closer to the 5pm hour, Vinlan straightens his posture and dusts off the front of his robes to ensure an impeccable display. He takes a few steps toward the ornate door of the Magistrix’s domain, knocking gently upon the wood to announce his timely arrival.

Magistrix Sidori Silverspell’s residence is near the Sunfury Spire, in a neighborhood of wealthy scholars that either never leave their homes or are never actually there due to research demands. Silverspell is among the latter, owing to the injuries she sustained during the Third War. An apprentice Runewarden answers the door when Magister Duskfury knocks, bowing his head respectfully as he steps aside to allow the guest entry.

Calling it a residence seems inaccurate when it feels more like a library. An enchantment makes the foyer of the apartment seem much larger than it actually is, with a large room lined in books and bewitched tomes flitting around like birds. The Magistrix sits at her desk in the middle of all the organized chaos and, with some effort, rises to greet him. 

Normally seen with a hood in public, Magistrix Silverspell’s striking white hair is uncovered and her braid loosened. Her red and gold robes shimmer with their own enchantments and she regards her guest with a warm smile. 

“Magister Duskfury, thank you for coming on such short notice. Do you prefer pleasantries, or getting right to the point?”

Vinlan bows in deep respect in response to her greeting. “Pleasantries are always appreciated, Magistrix, especially in such a beautiful spire. Though, please - do not rise on my account.” He unfolds the letter of invitation that Sidori sent for this meeting, tapping it with his fingers.

“I must say,” he begins, still holding himself fully. “I was quite surprised to have seen this come to my desk. It is no secret that we operate in somewhat differently-focused echelons within the Magistry.” He pauses to smile and bow his head once again in her direction. “It is an honour, but of course - I look forward to the potentiality of bringing our circles closer to orbit.”

He folds the paper in his fingers before gesturing to a chair near her desk. “May I?”

Sidori seems relieved to not have to fully rise, instead leaning back in her chair with a contented posture and expression. With a hand featuring numerous rings and enchanted tattoos, she gestures for Vinlan to sit opposite of her. With that same hand, she waves to an apprentice who scurries off to a side room. Said apprentice returns quickly with a porcelain tea set and begins setting out service for two. 

“I would venture to say that we exist in completely different specialties, actually,” Sidori responds with a light chuckle, “But there have been times before and certainly times ahead that such opposite specialties must work together. Have you been keeping up to date on the reports from Khaz Algar and K’aresh detachments of Thalassian forces? There are Reliquary agents stationed in both places who have written concerning reports about Hallowfall in particular. K’aresh is, well… a vision of a future I hope does not come to pass.” 

The elder Magistrix lets out a light sigh as her apprentice pours cups of herbal tea. 

“Although I am a Runewarden without a Runestone to guard at this time, I still have a connection to the convergence of leylines here in Quel’Thalas. They shuddered with the re-emergence and subsequent defeat of Dimensius.” 

Vinlan nods as he listens intently, his eyes tracing the ornate patterns of the teacups as the offering is poured. His mind turns over her topic of conversation while he nods slowly. “Yes, indeed,” he admits softly, measuring his words with care. “The whisperings of the Void’s machinations have spread throughout most circles, both magical and otherwise.”

His features darken momentarily. “I do not believe it to be a mystery that Dimensius’s defeat was crafted by the Harbinger - another twisted step up her spire of games.” He shakes his head with an audible sigh. “You know I’ve spoken heavily on the subject of Thalassian martial defenses, but do permit me to make myself plain, Magistrix - it is not that I see weakness in the Magistry or our magical abilities as some would suggest. I only mean to assist in unifying Silvermoon’s collective abilities by ensuring that our individualized talents are collectively focused on defense.”

He takes a moment to pause, releasing his reflexive grip upon the wooden armrests. As the apprentice steps away from the pair, Vinlan breathes deeply to inhale the steaming aroma to permit the tea to calm the subject. “It may be bold of me to say so, but I have a suspicion that such a desire for unification is of interest to you as well.” He smiles warmly over the desk to Sidori before gesturing to the tea. He waits patiently for Sidori to take up her cup first.

“Is that a hint of wintersbite from Alterac I detect? You must be in the very good graces of Botanist Nathera, I take it. Truly, I am flattered by the offering.”

The Magistrix keeps her gaze leveled on Vinlan as the tea is poured, measuring the darkening of his gaze as if she can read his very soul and intentions. Her scrutinizing gaze is redirected as she lifts the teacup to her lips, taking a sip that is followed by a contented sigh. 

“You are a man of good taste, Magister Duskfury,” Sidori comments with a smile, which is tempered by the severity of the discussion at hand. 

“My pursuits and interests are largely of a scholarly nature, but it would be foolish of me not to prepare for war when I feel that one is on the horizon. What happened in Khaz Algar, I fear, may be but a taste of what may be visited upon Quel’Thalas. The Void consumes, Magister, and we are keepers of a most sacred fount of power.”

With a pause for another sip of tea, she continues. 

“Knight-Lord Dawnblade was the head and organizer of the Runesworn. Her talents, while vast, are much more suited to martial endeavors — I asked her about the Phoenix Guard. And I asked her, in turn, to ask her former Lieutenant Commander about it. They are willing to wear the mantles of leadership again if needed. And if the Phoenix Guard is to be reborn, we will need a sponsor within the Magistry with more military knowledge and influence than I.”

Sidori bows her head politely to Vinlan, suggesting that he is, in fact, that Magister. 

Vinlan lifts the secondary teacup to his lips in a moment of brief contentment. As he looks to the steaming liquid before him, the comforts dissipate quickly as the aroma of Alterac is replaced by one of acrid smoke. The gleaming spires of Quel’Thalas shudder beneath the onslaught of the Void’s machinations as the people scatter and scream. He blinks as the tea swirls slowly in his cup before him, the vision a glimpse of the fears he too holds.

“I admit that I share your concerns, Magistrix,” he replies softly as he places the delicate china down before him. “Alleria, powerful as she may be, is a lesser pawn compared to the forces that may descend upon Quel’Thalas. If the Sunwell had such an adverse reaction to her visit, I can only imagine what else may be possible.”

He lifts the teacup again for another sip, settling into the comforts of militaristic conversation. “Ah, the Phoenix Guard - well-known for its willingness to leave nothing to chance. A shame it was eaten by the Windrunner war machine those years ago. I admit that I was surprised of your selection of Knight-Lord Dawnblade for the Runesworn project - seems an…interesting fit, if you’ll permit my opinion.”

He sits back slightly and lifts his cup for another sip, his posture one of a Magister preparing to enter a discussion in which he knows he holds value. He says nothing of offering a sponsorship yet, preferring to continue to hunt and needle. If there is anything these high-level members of the Magistry were capable of, it is posturing.

Sidori lets out a light sigh as the subject of the Runesworn project and her unorthodox choices in leadership are brought up. With a dismissive wave, she again reaches for the teacup to bring it to her lips. 

“All of my years of strictly academic pursuit of such a project yielded little in the way of results. Hints, here and there, without the necessary force to take it across the finish line. The Knight-Lord is well known for taking orders and getting an assignment done. Sadly, I overestimated how many scholars she had in her retinue…” 

The Magistrix trailed off into silence for a beat, then flicked her gaze up to meet Vinlan’s with a playful sort of annoyance. 

“Oh, Magister Duskfury, must I really beg?” 

Vinlan chuckles at that, leaning back as the proverbial ball lands on his side of the court. “I would never deign to make someone of your station do anything of the sort,” he quips, taking the final sip of his tea. He places the gentle cup down upon the edge of Sidori’s desk, leaning in slightly to turn the topic of conversation quite serious.

“Tell me, Magistrix,” he begins, his voice slightly lower. “If we are to lift the Phoenix Guard up once more, pull it from the ashes as it were, do you believe it can slough off the stains of the past? It is no mystery that there were some…unsavory events in its history. Suncrown, notably, but also their penchant for running directly into the jaws of the beast. While some would call that bravery, it can also be foolish.”

He pauses a brief moment to regard her expression, but decides to press onward regardless, embracing the opportunity to have the floor. “You know more than anyone that I am keen on shoring up militaristic defenses, there is no reason to hide such wishes any longer - I know that such desires are no longer uniquely my own, especially now. I just wonder if bringing forth an old contingent once again is the better move compared to birthing a new one.”

He sits back a touch, looking to Sidori curiously. “I suppose my question is ultimately simple, though I want to make a point to not question particular military dossiers as we know many of the Guard are abundantly capable. But, why them instead of something new?”

Magistrix Silverspell watched Magister Duskfury from over the rim of her teacup as he jested about not making her beg for his help. Her incredulousness was skillfully hidden behind her pleasant features, even offering him a smile as she set the teacup down in its saucer, then the saucer down on the table next to her. Sidori’s long, thin fingers steepled together just below her chin as she thought on her answer. 

“To critique just the Phoenix Guard for unsavory moments in the face of insurmountable odds would be unfair to critique our people as a whole of our lapses in judgement when we faced survival or annihilation. You and I both know that we, as members of the Magistry, had a direct hand in some of those unintended outcomes,” she gives him a pointed look with her fel green gaze, using the very corruption of her own features as a way to underscore her point.

She leans back in her chair again, bony elbows poking prominent depressions in the plush armrest of her chair. Her fingers still remain steepled at her lips. Finally, she rests her hands in her lap. 

“The Phoenix Guard is the most logical choice because they made a name for themselves fighting those insurmountable odds and surviving. By being the sword in campaigns outside our borders, they kept Quel’Thalas safe. If they are called upon to be the shield in a time of need, they will fight tooth and nail to fulfill their oath of service,” Sidori’s voice, normally gentle and measured, becomes a touch more impassioned with each point she’s made.There used to be stories of her delivering such speeches at Magistry gatherings or lectures at the Academy; most thought that she had lost her fight after the war. 

“I don’t mean to be fatalistic or even nihilistic about this, Magister Duskfury. But you and I both understand the enormity of cosmic powers and related horrors from Karesh that could very well be waiting to converge upon us. What is the nature of the void?” she asks in a tone not unlike an Academy professor, and answers her own question. “The void’s nature is to consume. Where is the brightest spot of its antithesis on all of Azeroth? Right here. The Sunwell.” 

Finally, the Magistrix sighs.

“...I can’t lose it again, Vinlan,” she murmurs, foregoing formality in the name of vulnerability. “None of us can. It’s up to us to stack the deck in our favor and use everything in our power to help make sure that doesn’t happen again. I believe the Phoenix Guard to be a part of that.” 

Vinlan removes his formal guard, his defenses lowered with the veritas of the subject matter. He allows a lengthy pause before taking a long, soft sigh, looking up into her fel green eyes with his own. He manages a soft smile, a genuine one.

“You know,” he begins, his tone markedly different as he drops the guise of a conniving Magister. “There are so many who would say that we operate at opposite sides of the spectrum. That your penchant for academics and my militaristic interests are to be at odds.” He sits a little straighter, shifting his body to face her fully.

“They would be wrong,” he says firmly with an accompanying pause for emphasis. “And I am most glad to see it. You are right, and we all, myself included, know it. The Sunwell must be defended at all costs by any, and every, means necessary - our very continued survival depends on that. I don’t think any of us can lose it again - I would fear for what we would become.”

“To reflect on my earlier points,” he continues, “I mean not to criticize the Guard, truly. I only posit potential lines of questioning that others within our ranks may consider. I cannot and will not deny their potential, their strength, their courage, or their merits - their dossiers speak fully upon all of that.”

He relaxes somewhat, still continuing his thoughts as they swirl from one to the next. “Ultimately, that you chose the Knight-Lord to lead the Runesworn project speaks to your trust in militaristic affairs, something that most assuredly piqued my interest. While unexpected, your summons this evening has laid bare your plan, your vision, and your goals, and I am humbled by your openness on the subject.”

He leans forward, glancing across the desk to see if any documentation had already been drafted while returning his voice to one of formality. “Magistrix Silverspell, it would be my honour to offer my support of recommissioning the Phoenix Guard in an effort to strengthen the defenses of Quel’Thalas. I believe our co-sponsorship could send an important message to the Magistry at large, and I do thank you for the trust and the opportunity.”

Sensing the discussion reaching a favorable conclusion, one of Sidori’s attendants brings in a leatherbound file folder with a formal declaration having already been drafted. With a bow, the attendant presents the file folder and Sidori shows the new charter for the Phoenix Guard. 

Proclamation for Circumstances Regarding Reactivation of the Phoenix Guard WHEREAS, the mixed military entity known as the Phoenix Guard shall be considered for reactivation should the following criteria be met:  • Military action taken against Quel’Thalas, the Sunwell or other territories belonging to the Kingdom. • Defense of existing Runestones or minor Runestone fragments discovered through the Runesworn project.  • Existential threat to Quel’Thalas, regardless of nature of aggressor.  • Any other emergency requiring decisive military action for defense or stabilization.  WHEREAS, should the Phoenix Guard be reactivated for duty, it shall be overseen by the undersigned officials:  • Magistrix Sidori Silverspell • Magister Vinlan Duskfury Both of the Sunspire, reporting to the Regent-Lord and Grand Magister. WHEREAS, should the Phoenix Guard be reactivated for duty, it shall be commanded by the named individuals:  • Knight-Lord Ina’thia Dawnblade, of the Blood Knight Order •Ranger Captain Ruthar Ronaestrider, of the Farstriders The undersigned members of the Magistry sign this document understanding the responsibility of the defense of Quel’Thalas, and do so willingly and without hesitation. Should the time come for dire measures to protect the kingdom, both Magistry officials will activate the below enchantments on the parchment. HEREBY SIGNED by,  𝑀𝒶𝑔𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒾𝓍 𝒮𝒾𝒹𝑜𝓇𝒾 𝒮𝒾𝓁𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓁𝓁 (The rune intended for Sidori is an elegant circular pattern with four circles within it, referencing the Runestones of Quel’Thalas and penned in glowing blue ink.)  𝔐𝔞𝔤𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔙𝔦𝔫𝔩𝔞𝔫 𝔇𝔲𝔰𝔨𝔣𝔲𝔯𝔶 (The rune intended for Vinlan is a more geometric representation of a phoenix and the sun, referencing his preference toward militaristic strength and penned in glowing red ink.) 

Sidori waves an enchanted feather quill over to her hand, which she snatches out of the air. Without any fanfare, she signs her name in large and flowing script next to her rune. Once satisfied with her signature, she floats the parchment and quill to Vinlan. 

Finally, she offers a kind – but weary – smile. 

“I hope that we do not need to use this.” 

Vinlan takes his time reading the document with deep scrutiny before taking the quill in kind and affixing his signature.

“I couldn’t agree more,” he adds after added the final filigree of his signature. “Though I believe I speak for many when I offer that I’d rather be prepared than surprised.”

Syrielle’s worries completely washed away as Brent came into the room only partially clothed. Her ears perked up fully and her mouth hung open, the corners of her mouth pulled up in a smile. She sat back in her chair comfortably, cup of tea in her hands.

“DO go on! Don’t mind me!” she encouraged, eyes locked to Brent’s waist, “You certainly look ready to go.”

Phaith, on the other hand, looked absolutely mortified. With a gasp, her face quickly turned the same shade of red as her hair. Properly embarrassed, she brought a hand up over her eyes and turned to face the counter, away from the two.

Brent reached for the first thing he could find to drape over himself, suddenly VERY aware of how dressed-down he was! The closest thing was, unfortunately, a nearby table cloth. He didn’t care; he wrapped it around himself to cover not just his bare chest, but the slight “morning” rise poking through his pants which, for Gods only knew why, hadn’t subsided yet! 

“Phaith, uh… this is Syrielle! She’s ah, erm… a friend of a friend. And we used to, uh… work together. Just work. In the military. She was an officer!” 

The words just dribbled from his mouth, almost incoherently, as his brain rushed to catch up. Syrielle Starfrost was in his HOUSE!? How did she even find him? Why was she here!? 

“You’re uh… a long way from Quel’Thalas, aren’t you?” he cleared his throat. “What, uh… what brings you by?”

Gods, why was he talking so much? Why was he talking like THAT? He glanced between Syrielle and Phaith nervously, ears perked upright warily! 

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Phaith answered, “I should have let you know we had unexpected company.”

It took her a moment to regain her composure, fanning herself a bit because the room suddenly felt very hot. At least she hadn’t been drinking tea when he walked in. Still, she made her way over to kiss Brent on the cheek before heading up the stairs to the bedroom to find him at least a shirt to cover up with. 

Syrielle was completely unbothered. Sipping her tea and waggling her eyebrows at Brent as his girlfriend disappeared up the stairs.

“You’d be surprised how easy it is to find an elf in Gilneas. People here LOVE to talk,” she said, “I didn’t have to ask around very long. Which is good. I’m not too sure how long I can stay before they notice I stepped away from my duties.” She cleared her throat, “So I see things are going well! Just curious, are you two attached to staying in Gilneas in any way?”

“Get out.”

When Phaith vanished, so too did Brent’s manners. He scowled at Syrielle, eyes narrowing dangerously. His voice became far more throaty than conversational. And the light in the sitting room seemed to dim considerably around him…

“I gave you ways to contact me. Barging into my home wasn’t one of them. Leave. Now.”

“Yeah, not like you ever barged into MY home, huh?” she shot back, seeming unbothered by his foul mood. 

“That was different. I was a cultist, and I was trying to assassinate you.” Brent glowered. “This is way different now, and you know it!”

She sighed as she placed her teacup back down on its saucer, ears lowering slightly as the conversation shifted to a more serious matter.

“The regular methods of contact are risky right now. It’s very VERY important that you not return to Quel’Thalas. At least… not anytime soon. Brent, Sunwhisper’s been compromised. She was captured while crossing the Thalassian Pass and is being held and interrogated.”

Brent frowned deeper at the news, scoffing and shaking his head.

“That idiot…” he huffed. “Alright. I’ll make something up to set Phaith’s mind at ease, and meet you at the pass tonight. Show me where she’s being held, and I can get her out. I shouldn’t have let her go alone in the first place…”

Syrielle shook her head, “No. You need to stay away. The Kingdom is on high alert, especially for her old cultist friends. There’s nothing we can do for her.  Not now. Don’t try to reach her or Kynlea. He’s being watched too. The good news is, she’s agreed to atone for her crimes against Quel’Thalas, which was enough to keep her head on her shoulders. As long as she continues to cooperate, I believe she and Kyn will be fine. “

She took a breath before continuing.

“What I’m worried about is, how much does Sunwhisper know about you? Does she know you live here? Understand that she IS cooperating fully. Cebina Ruavin is their main target at the moment, because she’s out causing trouble in Khaz Algar. From what I was able to find out, they know you’re alive, but they aren’t currently looking for you. Which is why I was asking… how attached are the two of you to Gilneas?” 

“--Slow down, slow down!” Brent stepped closer to Syrielle, grabbing her shoulder to stop her rambling! 

He huffed again, fixing the table cloth that was wrapped around him. His ears flickered, brow furrowed as he quantified as much of what Syrielle had hastily blurted out as he could. Thankfully, he was well awake by now, and managed to catch all of it.

“Kai is a fucking idiot. She’s gonna kill tens– if not hundreds– of people trying to bullheadedly escape custody. Then she’ll get killed anyway. Cebina’s always been trouble, I don’t know what she’s up to, and Kai doesn’t either. But your people aren’t going to accept that answer, right? If you’re telling me she’s been caught, I’m getting her out. Plain and simple. It’s what’s best for everyone.” he stated, firmly. “I’m not just going to turn a blind eye to it. I don’t think you expected me to, either– or you wouldn’t have come all the way here to tell me about it. You know I’m right. You want me to extract her, and you wanna help me do it. It’s in everyone’s best interest.”

“No, it isn’t!” 

Syrielle’s hand came up to grab Brent's wrist. A reflex from him grabbing her shoulder. She frowned as he completely missed what she was telling him to do.

“My boss is the one holding her and I'm not risking my career to save her. I came here because I wanted to give you the chance to run before they start trying to sniff you out.” 

Her other hand reached out to his shoulder squeezing it tightly to drive the point home.

“Brent, you don’t understand. If Sunwhisper escapes, then Kynlea dies.”

“Then I’ll pull him out, too.” Brent shot back, scowling. “I’m not leaving Kai again. I did that once before, and…”

He trailed off, frowning silently. He pulled his hand from Syrielle’s shoulder, and let it fall to his side as he turned his face from hers. Ears wilted; he felt more guilt about that than he’d realized, it seemed. 

Ny’alotha was… chaotic. Kai’eka was devoted to the cause until the bitter end, but Brent couldn’t bring himself to stay. He left her there to defend Ny’alotha alone. And when it was all over, he was quick to put it all behind him after leaving the Cult. He even tried making amends for all the misguided harm he’d done, in his own way, hunting down remnant practitioners. 

But he never made it up to Kai’eka.

His brow knit tighter, as he slowly exhaled through his nose. His eyes darted back to Syrielle, resolve only compounding as he looked at her again.

“Who’s your boss?”

“My boss is much older and much more powerful than I am and you are not to mess with him under any circumstances. He's highly intelligent, cold and calculating. Most importantly, he's the one keeping the barrier that protects Kynlea active.”

She kept her gaze level with his, her expression void of any pleasantries it had shown earlier.

“Do you understand what I'm telling you? Even if you successfully manage to extract Sunwhisper and Kynlea both, that barrier comes down and Kyn is lost to the void. Kyn doesn't want that. I don't want that. Sunwhisper doesn't want that. There is no scenario here where you can get involved without making the situation worse. The only thing you can do is keep yourself and Phaith safe.”

Her eyes looked past him now, to the Gilnean woman standing at the bottom of the stairs.

“Keep your family safe.”

Brent glowered, clearly not content with all the restrictions Syrielle was placing on him. How could she come here and tell him all this, then expect him not to do something about it? His fists clenched– but his ear flickered as he heard Phaith come down the stairs. He relaxed, sighing. 

“... You really shouldn’t have come here.” he whispered softly so only Syrielle could hear.

Then he turned– and his demeanor turned with him. The deep glower vanished, brow smoothed, eyes wide and bright again as he beheld Phaith at the bottom of the stairs, holding a shirt for him.

“Thanks.” he smiled to her as he approached for the shirt. “I’ll go slip this on real quick. Syrielle can’t stay much longer, sadly. But you two feel free to keep talking while I get dressed properly, yeah?”

He gave Phaith a kiss on the cheek, before disappearing into the next room– shooting Syrielle a look before he vanished completely.

“No disappearing to go kill any high ranking government officials allowed!” Syrielle called after him.

Clearly, she didn’t hold the same reservations as he did with Phaith present. While the redhead looked a bit confused and worried, she was strangely calm, collected, and mostly, unshocked. Which indicated to the Magistrix that she knew enough about Brent's past. That was good, at least. 

Phaith was no fool, and rather skilled at keeping her ears open to listen to conversations she wasn’t part of. She'd collected Brent's shirt quickly enough, but had stood at the top of the stairs to eavesdrop for some time before coming down.

Still, she acted the part and gave Brent an encouraging smile as he left the room. Before addressing Syrielle.

“This Sunwhisper woman, she's…?”

“An ex-cultist, like him. They worked closely together. Sunwhisper died defending Ny’alotha, and was raised by the Ebon Blade.”

Phaith nodded, hands folded politely in front of her, her eyes returning to where Brent had vanished.

“We aren't tied to Gilneas. I've uprooted my tailoring business a few times already. What's one more move, aye?”

“I'm sorry,” Syrielle sighed, ears wilting, “I doubt they'll come hunting for him for no reason. But if he gets involved in any way and they see him as an active threat…”

“No, I appreciate the warning. We'll be cautious, no matter what happens.”

The Magistrix relaxed at that. While she couldn't account for what Brent would do, Phaith had a good head on her shoulders. If anyone could talk him out of doing something stupid, she could. She got up from the table and began to make her way out.

“I should head back before they notice I'm missing. You two stay safe, and good luck.”

“Of course,” Phaith tore her attention away from where her partner had vanished and escorted their guest to the door, “Safe travels.”

Syrielle reached over to take the Gilnean woman's hand, slipping her a communication gem.

“In case something happens. I'll help where I can. But I can't go against Quel’Thalas.” She whispered.

Phaith nodded, quickly pocketing the gem. With that, Syrielle took a few steps away from the door, threading the arcane strands around her with her fingers before teleporting away in a puff of magic. 

A few seconds following that, Brent returned, now properly shirted. He looked around for signs of Syrielle, before exhaling a relieved sigh. He smiled at Phaith, and approached her.

“Surprised to see her. We worked together for a while, but we weren’t all that close.” Brent explained. “She just came to deliver some news from Quel’Thalas. I haven’t considered it home for a long time, but I still have some ties there. I’m gonna have to go back and take care of something.”

Phaith couldn’t help but frown at his words. Still she leaned in as he approached her, sliding her hands into his and placing a quick kiss on his lips.

“That doesn't sound like a very good idea,” she admitted, “You don’t even know where to start looking for Sunwhisper, do you? Is this really what you think she wants?”

His ears wilted slightly as he looked at Phaith, lips pressing to a thin line. Another sigh.

“Your hearing is dangerously good, you know that?” he smirked slightly, making a light joke before he shook his head. “I don’t know where she is. But that’s never stopped me before. Is it what she wants? I don’t know that either. There’s a lot I don’t know… and that’s why I have to go.”

He brought Phaith’s hands up between the two of them, and gently kissed her knuckles as he went on, elaborating further. Clearly, she’d heard plenty already! But he had his side to explain.

“What I do know is that she can only be a criminal and a terrorist in their eyes. Whether she’s cooperating or not, they’re not going to let her live. Not for long. She represents everything that that ass-backwards kingdom despises; a traitor, a Death Knight, a cultist– former or not, they don’t care.” he told her, brow furrowing deeper again as he spoke more about it. “She’s always had my back, though. Even when I didn’t. I… I left her, Phaith. I left her to die there in Ny’alotha. I can’t leave her to die in Quel’Thalas, too.”

Phaith nodded, closing her eyes and resting her forehead against his.

“I love you, Brent. Whatever you decide to do, I'll support and stand by you. I know you'll be careful, just don't do anything rash, alright?” She placed a kiss on his forehead, before moving back and looking over the home they'd created. It wasn’t the manor she'd grown up in, but she was proud of what they’d built.

“There's a small town near the sea, not far from the dark portal, called Surwich. It was built by Gilneans that survived a ship wreck. Do you want me to start looking? –ah, it might not be a good place to raise kids, though. The woods there are dangerous.”

She sighed, returning her gaze back to him. It was obvious, she was doing her best to stay calm, but stress was evident in her face, “Can you think of a place? Just in case?” 

“We won’t have to go anywhere, Phaith.” Brent assured her, giving her hands a gentle squeeze. “It’d be a lot safer here– for all of us– than to run off to hide somewhere so derelict as Surwich. The Armistice notwithstanding, it’s better for us here close to a proper city. Quel’Thalas isn’t looking for me. And even if they do decide I’m worth dredging up, they’ll have an impossible time doing so. Even after this.”

He pulled Phaith into an embrace, holding her close as he gently rubbed her back. He hated to see her worry– another reason he felt rather cross at Syrielle for coming by unannounced and dropping this in his lap. She meant well, he knew. But the last thing he wanted was for Phaith to have any reason to panic about things. They’d both had enough of that through their lives.

“... I’ll think of a place though, just in case.” he added, reassuringly. “I’ve got some contacts I can reach out to. New names, identities, whatever we may need. I really don’t think it’ll get to that point, but I’ll prime them just in case. Alright?”

“Alright,” Phaith nodded, leaning into the embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist in a tight hug and resting her face between his neck and shoulder, “I trust you. Just remember, there might be more than just the two of us soon, hm?” She couldn’t help but smile a bit at the possibility.

Brent smiled too, pulling back from the hug to look at Phaith’s face. He chuckled a bit, giving her hips a playful squeeze as he pressed his forehead to hers.

“Very soon. Be ready when I get back– we’ll get right back to it, I promise.”

She nodded, already eager for his return, but worry still evident on her features.

“How long? You need to give me a timeline or I'll worry the whole time you're away, and neither one of us wants that, aye?” 

“Four days, tops. I’ll contact you somehow if it’ll take more than that. But operations like these happen quickly. The real time sink at the beginning will be gathering information and planning things. But that’s also the lowest risk time, so if I think it’ll take longer I can still reach out easily”

Another nod, before she pressed her lips to his. A deeper, more passionate embrace this time pressing her body against his. She wanted to make certain her touch would linger long after he left.

Brent pulled Phaith in close, returning the passion of the deep kiss. It was over too soon, as he pulled away to get ready for the impromptu operation to save Kai’eka. His hand lingered in hers as he stepped back, not wanting to let go. But after a reassuring nod, he pulled it away and went upstairs.

Phaith’s face nearly matched her hair as the dwarf’s words sunk in. Her arms immediately came down to pull the cloak closed over her large bosom. The Gilnean woman was used to men staring; her long legs and hourglass figure had always drawn the eye. It wasn’t that she was unused to advances, but this… this vulgar figure! She knew evil when she saw it, and this was it! 

She had to push down the primal urge to defend herself… to transform. But Brent still needed time to work, and, so far, she’d managed to avoid going into her worgen form in front of him. She wasn’t ready to show him that side of her yet. 

She’d continue the act, for now…

“A-Absolutely NOT!” she practically squeaked, “I’m not that kind of woman, sir! I have gold and I can pay! No need for such lewd suggestions!”

Creach only laughed, eyes glowing a sickly yellow again. He shook his head, bringing his rifle up at the ready to point loosely at the flustered woman. 

"Dun make the mistake o' thinkin' it were jus' a suggestion, missy." He grinned, sinisterly. "You jus' come on over here, aye? I'll get us both where we wanna go. An' if you dun try to fight it too much, you might jus' make it to town alive, huh?"

He chuckled more, motioning for Phaith to come around to the back of the wagon and climb aboard.

Thankfully, it didn't get that far. As Creach turned, he saw another figure in the wagon with him already! Before he could react, Brent grabbed hold of the barrel of his rifle and kicked, hard and square, at the dwarf's misfigured face! A grunt, then a thud, as Creach hit the ground. He hissed, body transforming further into that of some cryptic shadow creature! Tentacles spawning across his face again, eyes aglow and locked on Brent now. His hands, too, morphed into long, nondescript appendages. He scrambled to his feet, and snarled.

"Sunborn…" his voice growled. "The rumors're true, aye?"

Brent didn't respond. Instead, he flipped the rifle around and trained it on its owner, eyes narrowing. A silent, tense moment passed as the two glowered at one another. Then… Creach leapt! 

And Brent fired.

The silence of Duskwood was broken by the gunshot, echoes of it fading into the darkness. Creach moaned, falling back into the dirt for the second time--this time, with a hole blown through his knee.

"Arghhh… fuckin' traitor!" He shouted, in pain and anger! 

"Shut it, or the next one's through your neck!" Brent threatened, hopping down off the wagon. He nodded to Phaith, motioning for her to move in on the wagon to secure the goods, as they had discussed. Hopefully, she wouldn't read too much into the "traitor" comment…

If she did, she chose not to react to it. At least for now. The Gilnean woman 

made her way into the wagon as she fixed up her hair. She was thankful that Brent had acted long before the dwarf managed to put his filthy hands anywhere on her. She shuddered at the thought. 

Disgusting.

All thoughts of Creach’s intentions vanished as her eyes fell on the obelisk remnants. She’d never seen a full one in person, but they must have been quite large if this was simply a part of one. She shook her head, thankful that she and Brent had managed to intercept it. Her eyes closed as she gathered her concentration. When she opened them again, they glowed of a bright green. A deep breath in. She hated how good it felt to channel the Fel energy, but there were very few ways to transport the large pieces of obelisk securely. With a wave of her hands, a portal opened up and several imps scurried out to get to work. The entire area was alight with a green glow as they quickly grabbed the pieces and ran off into the portal to deposit them in a warded safe she and Brent had prepared.

The job was done in minutes. Half an obelisk safely stored away and the imps returned to the nether. Portals closed and the Fel glow faded away as Phaith ceased channeling and her eyes returned to normal. A hand came up to play with a strand of hair as she returned to the front of the wagon.

“It’s done,” she informed her partner, “Finish the job.”

“He… hehe…” Creach laughed, weakly. “Who’s tuggin’ yer leash these days, Sunborn? Zan’rina? Kole? Y’know as well as I do they ain’t fit t’ ascend. He is, though.”

Brent pressed the barrel of the rifle to Creach’s forehead, and cocked it once.

“Glad you’re feeling chatty on that subject; who are you working for?”

The dwarf raised a brow… then laughed again. Not nearly as weak, this time– a booming, boisterous laugh! He shook his head.

“Y’dunnae know? Oh Gods… that can only mean yer out!” he chortled– then coughed– then chortled again. “He’s makin’ his move soon. It’d be too late, e’en if y’ did know!”

“WHO!?” Brent barked, pressing down on the rifle. “If it’s too late anyway, enlighten me.”

“Go fuck yerself, Sunborn. Last thing I do fer ‘im ain’t gonna be rollin’ on ‘im!” the Dwarf cackled one more time. “Y'za noq mah... Y'za noq ormz…”

He looked to Phaith, and grinned.

“Y’cannae save ‘im. Cannae trust ‘im.” he sneered. “He’s bound t’ this life!”

Brent had heard enough. He pulled the trigger, sending a blast through the dwarf’s face to silence him. The shot was muffled by the dirt. Slowly, the elf exhaled, and tossed the rifle away. Then he turned to look at Phaith.

“... We shouldn’t linger.”

Phaith simply nodded, as she stared down at Creach’s lifeless body, brows knit. As unsettling as this monster was, his words about Brent had bothered her the most. She wanted to brush them off as Creach trying to unnerve her and have her turn against her partner. The way he and Brent spoke to each other, though. They KNEW each other. It also explained how Brent knew so much about the cultists.

Closing her eyes, she turned away from the body to follow Brent. They’d been working together for months now, and had so much in common. She rather fancied him, but that was never something she’d say out loud. There were many things about her partner that she didn’t know. He was the secretive type, and Phaith wasn’t one to pry. She had her own secrets, after all… But it was out in the open now.

She climbed up onto the wagon and took a seat next to him so that they could ride the wagon back to town. 

“How long since you got out?” she asked.

Brent didn’t bother disposing of the body. The wolves in these woods would see to that. If not… the feral worgen. He settled into the wagon beside Phaith– and shrunk at the question. A part of him expected it. She wasn’t a fool. Creach made it rather obvious. He just… hoped she wouldn’t connect the dots, or put any stock into the dead dwarf’s jeers and snide remarks. But… he would’ve, were their roles reversed. It only made sense. And her question was more than fair.

“... After Naz’jatar. Before Ny’alotha.” he answered, tone low but sincere. “After Thea…”

He let the rest trail off, before spurring the mule onward down the road. He didn’t look at Phaith squarely. Couldn’t. Wilted ears did well enough without a guilty gaze alongside them to convey his shame.

Phaith observed the Void elf as he spoke. His body language told her everything she needed to know. Regret. Shame. It explained why he accepted her dealings with the Fel as well as he did. He understood how easily a person could get carried away with a darker power. She wondered if Thea had been a cultist as well… or had she been killed by them? The latter would explain the sudden switch from cultist to hunter.

Gently, she nudged closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. As much as she wished he’d been upfront with it, she also understood why it was something he kept to himself. So many people had suffered under the Twilights and their Dark Gods. He’d end up being hunted by law enforcement and cultists both. 

“That must have been really hard to do,” she simply replied.

She could have said more. But Brent was a person of very few words, and she felt the silence filled with understanding and acceptance would be better appreciated.

It caught him off guard. He turned, staring at Phaith as she rested against him. He tensed… but relaxed bit by bit as he studied her reaction. It wasn’t… loaded, was it? Was she trying to guilt him further? It didn’t seem like it, otherwise she wouldn’t have leaned in. It felt… genuine. He wasn’t at all used to it. Not with anyone else, since…

“... I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“I know,” she kept her head resting on his shoulder, hands resting on her lap, a smile tugged at her lips, “I take it telling a cultist hunter that you were a cultist wouldn’t be the best way to start a partnership, aye? It does explain a lot though. Always wondered where you got all that information from. Was all from experience, wasn’t it?”

“Mm.” Brent hummed in affirmation. 

He was quiet for a moment longer, eyes straight ahead as he guided the wagon towards Darkshire. He wanted to say more. Wanted to explain himself. He felt like he’d been caught, and yet also felt she was being too lenient about it. No one else would’ve given him a break. The Twilight’s Hammer, Deathwing, the Sha, all of it– everyone’s lives had been in some way altered and impacted by the Old Gods he had served. Even Phaith’s! Why was she giving him a pass on that?

“... I understand if you don’t trust me because of this.” he commented, nodding once. “I don’t expect you to. But I hope you’re still open to the idea of working together.”

“‘Course I am,” she replied with a friendly nudge, “Besides, you’re… more than just a partner now. Don’t get me wrong, the Twilights did some messed up stuff. But so did the Legion. And…”

She kept her head resting on his shoulder as her hands fiddled with the fabrics of her robes.

“I was in a bad state of mind back then. Angry… hurt. Lost everything I had in Gilneas, lost my husband, then the baby… I just… snapped. Got into the Fel, made some bad calls. I didn’t care about anything back then. I was hurt. And… I wanted everyone to hurt along with me.” 

She was silent for a moment, before asking.

“How did you get into it?”

Brent shrugged– mindful not to shrug too much with the shoulder Phaith was resting on.

“... The whispers.” he said, softly. “I’m sure it sounds… cliche, but… I dug up an artifact of the Black Empire years and years ago. It started speaking to Thea and me, and we just… answered the call.”

He shook his head, continuing to guide the mule towards town. The first lights of Darkshire could be seen through the dense trees.

“I didn’t have anything when I left Quel’Thalas. My family all died to the Scourge, and everything seemed hopeless. Then I met Thea, and it felt like things were turning around. Like we could build a life together.” he explained a little more, feeling he could– and should– open up a bit. “We spent a lot of time digging up artifacts together in southern Kalimdor. That’s where we found the aqir relics. And… the rest, you can guess.”

“Aye,” Phaith nodded, “Well, I certainly understand feeling hopeless and where that can lead. I’m glad you’re here with me now, though. Not just hunting down what’s left of the Twilights and setting things right… but, as a friend.”

As they approached Darkshire, Phaith finally sat up fully, taking her head off of Brent’s shoulder. The proper Gilnean manners took over as people came into view. It wouldn’t do to have people assume things.

“And um… since we’re being honest with each other. I never did tell you this but… I’m a  worgen.”

Brent nodded, casually– then his ears perked! He attempted to feign surprise, but the moment had passed too quickly. 

“--Ah, uh… oh, I…” he sputtered, before finally shaking his head. “I… yeah. I mean, I figured.”

He shrugged his shoulders– both, now that the other was unencumbered– ears pinning sheepishly.

“I mean, I hope it’s not rude that I assumed, but I know a majority of Gilneans are.” he explained. “And in your shop, I noticed a lot of clothing you design uses some pretty malleable and adaptive fabrics. It seemed… sympathetic. Like you knew the plight well. Felt personal.”

Another shrug, as he pulled the cart into town, then turned to take it up towards the stables. He didn’t have intentions on keeping it, but the town could make better use of a mule and wagon than either he or Phaith could. Not when they had other ways of conveying things.

“--I don’t mind it, if that’s something you were worried about.” he added quickly. “I’m glad to be with you now, too. As a friend, like you said.”

And for a brief, brief moment… he smiled.

She couldn’t help but blush in embarrassment as he explained that he'd already guessed. Her glance remained focused on her folded hands on her lap, until he informed her that it didn't bother him. 

She looked up just in time to see that smile. It was contagious, and she couldn’t help but return it, her gaze locked on his, getting lost in those glowing blue eyes. It was impossible not to feel attracted to him in times like this, with him looking so rugged and handsome after a mission.

"I've never been fond of the worgen form…" she sort of went on, "It’s just so… savage and unlady-like, you know?"

“Mm. Well, won’t bother me if you stay like this.” Brent nodded. “I think you look… you know… nice. Good.”

He cleared his throat, eyes forward again to let the meek compliment hang in the air.

It didn’t hang there for long. The cart rolled up to the stables, where the pair was met by a stablehand who aided in recovering the mule. Brent offered him little by way of explanation, seeming to frame it as something they’d found on the road. It seemed plausible and acceptable, allowing the two to leave it there without a fuss.

“Well… that’s that.” he nodded, turning his attention back to Phaith. “Stormwind’s not far, but we can get you a room at the inn if you’re tired. It’s getting kinda late.”

Phaith looked up at the sky through the trees. It was always dark in Duskwood, but the stars were already out.

"Aye, there's no rush in getting back to Stormwind just yet. I'm sure we could handle the journey, but I think we've earned ourselves a warm cup of tea and rest at the inn."

The stress from the grueling trial had melted away immediately for her in light of their victory, but it didn't seem to be the case for her partner. Raetos never returned the embrace, his initially confused gaze shifting to a frown, eyes darting left to right as he struggled to process everything that had just happened.

“Rae…” She gently pressed a hand to the side of his face, “It’s okay. It's over. It's done.”

“Indeed it is!” Commander Rhykoth stepped forward, a proud smile on his usually serious face, “Raetos, you have faced your insecurities, your darkness, and your deepest fears… and have been reborn; a beacon of Light in the darkness. The Army of Light is honored to count you in its ranks!”

Applause erupted from all of those present. It was a triumphant moment! Raetos shook his head, seeming to finally snap out of the daze he was in. He finally got up, managing a smile. It wasn’t a real smile, though. Serres could tell. His stance was relaxed, but his tail’s movements erratic. She stepped back as others approached him, and observed him at a distance as he received the well deserved accolades. 

She frowned, concerned. Why wasn’t he happy?

“The Trial can take a heavy toll, even in some cases of success,” she startled at the commander’s voice. In her worried observations, she hadn’t noticed him approach her. He must have picked up on her distress.

“Will he be alright?”

“He is merely overwhelmed. Give him time.”

She nodded, though his words did little to lift her spirits as she watched her partner excuse himself and leave the room. She followed him, barely managing to catch up to him as he arrived at his quarters.

“Rae! Wait!”

He paused at the door, not even bothering to turn and face her, “Not now, Serres.”

“What's wrong?”

His tail twitched, “I'm tired, that's all.”

It was more than that, she could tell, “You're a terrible liar.”

“...Just drop it, okay?”

“Rae… why won't you look at me?”

“You know why.” 

She frowned, “Rae, she had to die!”

“You don't know that! There HAD to be another way!”

“There was no time to debate it and you know it! I did what had to be done. Wasn’t that the whole reason you brought me along?”

“You killed an innocent kid!”

“The child was a plant, Rae! She was corrupted by the Legion,” she argued, “As skilled as you are, you're too soft. That was the big final test, to see if you had what it takes to make the hard decisions and follow through!” She huffed, “And I stepped in and did the job for you so you wouldn’t have to get your hands dirty! You’re welcome, by the way! You’re a big, shiny Lightforged now, thanks to -me-!”

His golden gaze finally locked onto her for the first time since the trial ended. Pain, sadness, hurt… she took a step back, taken aback at just how deeply this was affecting him. 

“Are you seriously angry with me?”

“I just need you to leave me alone for a bit, okay?”

Alone? She felt a pang of disappointment well up inside her. Was he really going to reject her? Tonight of all nights? Years of friendship had finally turned into something more the evening prior. They’d shared their first kiss and confessed to having romantic feelings for each other. They’d decided together that tonight would be the perfect moment to take things to the next level. After years of pining, she was finally going to get the intimacy she’d always craved with him. 

“But we had plans tonight…” she shook her head, doing her best not to look hurt, “Remember? Yesterday you said…”

He frowned, heavily.

“--Really? That’s where your mind is? Yeah, we made those plans back before I watched you slit a kid’s throat open! Don’t know if you realise, that’s a bit of a mood killer!”

“It wasn’t real, Rae!”

“Tell that to the mental image that’s stuck in my head! Now can you -PLEASE- leave me alone tonight so that I can process all of the crazy shit that just happened?!”

Without another word, he stepped into his room and slammed the door shut. Serres just stood there, dumfounded. She hoped it was a sick joke; that at any moment, he would open that door again with his usual jovial smile and laugh at the look on her face. Or maybe she’d wake up and realize this was all a nightmare. But as time went by, that hope faded. Her hands clenched into fists, tears welling up in her eyes. She’d worked so hard and had given so much time and effort to help him reach this moment. Only for him to look at her as though she were a monster…

“Fine then!” she yelled, “I’ll do my trial by myself! You’d only slow me down anyway!”

With a swift kick to the door, she stormed off down the hallway.

~*~*~

(( Azeroth, year 42))

“... Hm. I suppose he wasn't willing to help us, then?”

Serres shrugged her shoulders as she shook the blood off her blades. Laying by her hooves was the body of her latest victim, still bleeding out from the cut across his throat,  "Good heart. Too pure."

“We'll keep looking, then,” Her partner glanced around, before clenching his fists, causing a swirl of energy to overtake him. From his humanoid form grew horns, dark scales and wings, his visage disappearing completely into his natural Dracthyr state. He growled, “It's exhausting having to hide so much. And you did this for years when you first arrived?”

The Man’ari stowed her weapons and sighed at his words, scrunching up her nose, "Out of necessity. Survival! Azeroth doesn't like the Legion. Would have us all hunted!"

"A pity. From what you've told me, you're a proud and mighty people, like mine used to be. We shouldn't have to hide from -them-. But... yes. Necessary, as you said. Here, most especially.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, walking over to lean back against the wooden beam and glancing over to the body on the ground. Her tail twitched, "Torture didn't work."

“On this one, perhaps. Do you think they're all as tenacious? Everyone has limits. You just need to find one whose body can outlast their will. One of them will talk. We need only find them.”

"They do not trust easily, but we make ourselves useful to them and they open up,” She giggled, "I'll keep to my exile form, win their trust. Kill only when necessary, until we are in the right position. Then they all bleed."

Her partner nodded, smiling, "We'll afford ourselves some leisure time once our goal is attained. The entire continent can be stained red."

Serres’ fel green eyes flared with excitement, "It's going to be beautiful!"

“Yeah,” she agreed, “But that's good.”

“You think?”

“Of course! This is exciting, Rae! We're finally reaching the next stage of our lives. We’re not kids that need to be watched and guided anymore. We get to be our own people now, where we get to receive the Light’s blessing and truly live and fight alongside our kin! I’m actually SO jealous you get to do the trial before me!”

“Want to switch places?”

“Ugh! I wish they’d let us…”

“What happens if I look stupid after Lightforging?”

The question made her chuckle, “Don’t be ridiculous! You already look stupid. Can't make it worse.”

“Wow! Rude!” he exclaimed dramatically, pushing her off to the side, “No more cuddles for you, then!”

She laughed, immediately moving back in against him and locking her arms around his torso. Her good mood was contagious, and he couldn’t help but laugh along with her.  It was a good change in atmosphere, lifting the cloud of worry and dread that had been growing and hovering over him all evening. Serres always knew how to lift his spirits. He was thankful for the bond they shared and how it continued to grow as time went by. Despite his words, he brought an arm around her shoulders, hugging her close.

“I’m happy you’ll be with me, Serres.”

“You couldn’t stop me from coming with you if you tried,” she replied, snuggling in, “You’re stuck with me.”

“I think I can live with that,” he chuckled, “About what you said earlier though. Care to explain how you managed to get a look at those reports?”

She shrugged innocently, “They were just sitting there on the desk. I happened to walk by and caught a glimpse of them.”

“On the desk or in a filing cabinet?”

“It may or may not  have been in a filing cabinet.”

“Mhm. And was the office door locked?”

“May as well not have been with how easy it was to lockpick.”

Raetos gave her a deadpan stare, meeting her devilish grin. They stared at each other in silence for only a moment before bursting out into another fit of giggles and laughter. 

The moment was cut short, however, as heavy hoofsteps were heard approaching in the hallway. Serres quickly climbed onto Raetos’s lap, bringing a hand over his mouth to silence him as she pulled a protective shroud of shadows over them. And not a moment too soon as the door swung open.

“Raetos? Serres?” The commander's voice boomed through the room.

The hoofsteps moved in closer to them as a light swept over their heads. The two Draenei held perfectly still and quiet as the room was searched; shelves moved, crates opened and closed.

The loudest sound for Raetos, however, was the sound of his own heartbeat as he stared at his friend. He found himself studying her features. Her beautiful freckled face, her mischievous gaze, her soft copper colored hair, the feel of her body against his… For the past few years, feelings between the two of them had grown beyond friendship. They both knew it and had been dancing around the subject. It made moments like these hard to ignore. She must have felt it too, as her gaze moved up and locked onto his. Her cheeks darkened. He brought a hand up, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Her hand slipped off from over his mouth to cup the side of his face. Tentatively, Raetos leaned in, but hesitated. He knew what he wanted, but he wanted to be sure she did as well.

His silent question was answered as she tilted her head and closed the remaining distance between their lips. A wave of relief and happiness washed over him. He had to contain his excitement, however. Now would be a terrible time for them to be found. Still, his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close as he leaned into the kiss, closing his eyes and savoring the moment. 

Thankfully, Serres’ shroud proved effective as the hoofsteps moved back out into the hallway, the young couple remaining undiscovered. The door slammed shut, and the kiss continued.

“For the record,” She whispered against his lips, “I think you’re going to be a really handsome Lightforged.”

Raetos tried to think of something smart and witty to reply with, but his mind was blank. All he could do was give her a big stupid grin and pull her back in for more kissing. Now that he’d had a taste, he couldn’t get enough. 

~*~*~

(( Exodar, year 42 ))

“Who’s Serres?”

“What?”

Raetos blinked and stared at the Draenei sitting across the table from him. Freckles decorated her lovely face but it wasn’t that of his childhood friend. This woman’s skin was purple instead of blue, and her hair was different; longer, and absent of red hues. What was her name, again? He’d forgotten at some point over drinks the night prior. The crystal forger’s daughter... He remembered Argonas pointing her out to him after the Tishamaat.

“You said her name in your sleep,” she said, taking a sip of coffee, “Must be important to you.”

“Shit, sorry! She’s uh…” he winced, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck. The whole subject had taken him completely off guard. It wasn't something he brought up often, if ever. He’d mentioned it to Dahlyah once, and even then, it had been a slip up over drinks. Maybe he should stop drinking? “She was, yeah,” he admitted, “We grew up together. Made plans to be together forever, actually. But uh…” 

He trailed off, shaking his head.

“Legion got her?” 

He nodded, shoulders slumping. The truth of the matter was a lot more complicated than that, but best to keep it short and sweet, “...Yeah, they did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he waved it off, but got up and started gathering his things, “I should go though. Bronx is gonna get restless if I don't get back soon.”

“Alright…” She got up along with him, “I uh...  I had a really good time last night.”

“I did too,” he smiled, leaning down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek, “You… wanna do this again next time I’m in the neighborhood?”

“I’d like that,” she nodded, face lighting up, “Be safe out there, Raetos.”

“See you again soon,” he promised, quickly making his way out the door. 

Now he felt bad. She remembered his name but he still couldn’t recall hers. That was awkward. Hopefully it would come to him before their next encounter.