Kynlea Sunstriker

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.

Her words were met with silence. But she wasn’t left in silence for long, however. Light flooded the cell as a portal opened in the ceiling. It revealed metal bars crossed in a hexagonal lattice pattern. Beyond them, the Magister could be seen sitting at a desk in an elegant Quel’dorei decorated office. The alignment of the portals were clearly skewed; while the portal had opened above Kai’eka’s cell, the Magister sat in a chair looking straight ahead into the cell from his side.

“You sound surprised.” he stated, clearly having heard her commentary. “We have eyes everywhere, you know. We go to great lengths to track the whereabouts of enemies of our Kingdom, Kai’eka. And you’ve proven to be one time and time again.”

Bey’ron glanced up from the desk, then back down. He scribbled notes on parchment, organizing each into meticulous stacks. It was too far away to tell whether or not the paperwork concerned Kai’eka, or if he was simply multitasking his interrogation with something else.

“Not bothering to change your name when you were reborn was a foolish choice. Stomping through the Thalassian Pass, even more so.” he scoffed. “Did you really expect to be greeted cordially?”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, already exasperated by the conversation.

“Trying to make It sound like security's always been tight. You have any idea how fucking easy it was to infiltrate the Phoenix Guard?”

“Mm, must have been quite easy, if you somehow managed to do it.” Bey’ron quipped back. “It wasn’t always so tight, no. But we’ve learned from the mistakes of the past. It’s easier to see threats coming when we know what to look for.”

Another parchment meticulously signed and sorted amongst the piles of papers on his desk. He set his quill down, looking at Kai’eka directly as he clasped his hands. He smirked.

“Case in point; here you are.”

He stood from the desk, and circled around in front of it. As he did, an Imp appeared through a portal and dropped into his now-empty chair, taking over the paperwork while Bey’ron focused fully on his new detainee.

“Now, as we discussed before, you’ll answer some questions for me, and I’ll consider doing the same if I like what I hear.” he restated his offer from before. “Let’s start with an easy one, shall we? One even a brute like you should know– what is your leader, Xal’atath, planning?”

Of all the questions she had been expecting, that hadn’t even crossed her mind. She hadn’t touched anything in regards to the cult since Ny'alotha. Confusion was evident on her features.

“What the fuck does that crazy bitch have to do with anything?” She replied, “Haven't touched void shit since I died.”

The Imp scribbled down some notes as she spoke, and stopped once she did. It was apparent the little demon was transcribing her answers. Bey’ron leaned against the desk, and crossed his arms. 

“Where are the rest of your traitorous cohorts? Nepen’thea Dusksinger, Brent Sunborn, Cebina Ruavin?”

The Ebon Knight looked up at the Magister, eyebrow raised. For someone who claimed to have eyes everywhere, he certainly didn't seem to know anything.

“Thea is dead. Backstabbed back when we were working in Nazjatar. Alt was killed not long after that. Brent left the cult around the same time as me. He managed to put that shit behind him and is settling down now. Cebina is still out there. Approached me a while back and asked me to be part of some dumb plan. Told her to get lost. Haven't seen her since. No idea where Karas ended up. Haven't seen him since the Fourth War.”

“Ah yes, Alteris… your brother. I had nearly forgotten about him.” Bey’ron nodded slowly. “But Cebina did approach you, yes? Why did you decline her invitation?”

Again, the Imp scribbled down more notes, recording everything Kai’eka said. Aside from the scritching of his quill against the parchment and the gentle humming of the portal, everything else was quiet. The Magister looked to the Death Knight, expectantly.

“Do you expect me to believe you left behind everything to which you had devoted your entire mortal life? Aside from your friend Sunborn– allegedly– you’d be the only one to ever do so. Quite… anomalous.”

“Because it was all a fucking lie!”

Kai’eka's eyes flared in anger, her face twisted in a scowl. Hands balled into fists, straining the rope.

“I gave EVERYTHING to the Old Gods! Devoted my whole damn life! Sacrificed everything I had to ensure the cult would survive! Fuck, I even died for them! And guess what I got for it? Not a damned thing! Everything I was promised, everything I worked for… everything I was taught from the moment I knew how to walk? All lies!”

She growled.

“So no! Not interested. Told her to fuck off and get out of my sight!”

The Magister couldn’t help but grin at her outburst. Her frustration and anger, the first and only true emotion she’d exhibited besides the baseline irritation of being captured. He chuckled, laughing deeply at her predicament. At her comeuppance. It felt harsher against the background of silence. Even the Imp’s writing had concluded, the demon standing by waiting while his master enjoyed Kai’eka’s admission.

“By the Sunwell itself, so you did learn your lesson! It only took dying for your hollow cause, but you finally caught on!” he laughed raucously. “I do so love seeing traitors get what they deserve!”

Kai'eka sneered at him, wanting nothing more than to punch that dumb grin off of his face and shove those fancy quills up his ass. 

“Whatever. We both know where this is going. Just get the fucking execution over with. I'm done talking.”

“Mm, just as well. I’ve had enough listening to your lies, in turn. We’ll set to executing you tomorrow, perhaps. You… and your son.”

He pushed himself from the desk nonchalantly, and began walking around to the other side. The Imp quickly scurried out from the chair, and took his place off to the side on the desk. Bey’ron examined the stack of parchments, appraisingly. 

“He’s clearly in league with you, as well. My agents observed him interacting with your messenger. And we apprehended him at Dawnstar Spire awaiting your meeting, just before we apprehended you.” he explained, sorting the logs his Imp had taken. “Two traitors, publicly executed on the same day. Mother and son, too! Certainly should draw a big crowd, don’t you think?”

That certainly got her attention. She’d set to staring at the wall in front of her, having simply accepted her fate. When he mentioned her son, however… Her eyes widened and dread overtook her features and ears pinned back as he spoke.

“He isn’t part of this! Never has been! Let him go!”

“Tch, more lies? Come, now. I know all about the shadow mark you left on him. You’ve come back to reclaim him, and bring him into your Void-worshipping fold. I’m not a fool, Kai’eka.” Bey’ron scoffed, shaking his head dismissively. “Your traitorous lineage will end with him. If you’d like, we can have your guillotine facing his gallows so you can watch him hang before we behead you.”

He finished stacking the parchments, and looked back up at Kai’eka with a grin. He waved his hand, and the portal slowly began to close.

“Tomorrow, most likely. I’m tired this evening, and still have to finish interrogating Kynlea before I can retire. Enjoy your last night, Miss Sunwhisper.”

“No no NO! I'm telling you the truth! The only reason he has that mark is because I made a stupid decision when I was younger! I left him so that no one could trace him back to me! Because I didn't want the cult to find him! I didn't want that life for him!” 

She pushed herself off the wall, panic set in her features as she called out at the closing portal, “When I found out Astaloren was dead, I wanted to make sure he was safe! I swear! I just want him to be safe!”

She struggled with the bonds now, desperate to get free somehow. She felt tears sting her eyes. Alteris had been right. She should have stayed away.

“This is MY fault! It was my mistake! Kynlea shouldn't pay for it!” Her voice broke in her distress, “Magister, PLEASE!”

The portal held open slightly at the last second, the rift only about a foot across. Slowly, it crept open once more to reveal the Magister again, arms crossed as he peered at Kai’eka. His smirk was gone, brow deeply furrowed, ears perked high. His felfire eyes were piercing, narrowed on the Death Knight’s tear-touched face.

“That almost sounded sincere, Miss Sunwhisper.” he spoke, tone dripping with accusation. “Do you know how Astaloren managed to spare you son a terrible fate of being consumed by the Void thanks to your carelessness?”

He gave no time to answer, only to contemplate the question, before his gloved hand pointed to himself. 

“Your son lives because I deem it so. He sleeps peacefully because I allow it. He breathes another breath because of my mercy.” he spelled out in no uncertain terms. “Suppose I believe you. That you’ve shed your Cultist past, and your reasons for returning to my kingdom are truly to reunite with the son you abandoned– regardless, you’d still have much for which you must atone. If you’ve truly learned that harsh lesson, and finally see the empty promises the Shadows offer… atonement would be something I would expect you’d seek, given the atrocities you committed in the name of your false and abhorrent Gods.”

He clasped his hands behind his back.

“Do you? Do you seek atonement?” he asked, plainly. “Because such a penance is the only way I’d ever let a monster like you see your son again.”

It was strange. Even though she didn't need to breathe, Kai’eka’s chest still rose and fell in her distress as she listened to every word. Her answer was immediate. 

“I… I just want him safe from the void. Safe from the shadows. If you can guarantee that, then… I'll atone… whatever it takes. You can get someone to dig through my head if you don't believe me.”

“Hmph. You know as well as I do that there's no guaranteed way to protect yourself from the shadows.” the Magister scoffed. “However… I'm exceptionally capable. The fact Kynlea is still free of the Void's influence should be evidence enough of that.”

He sighed, and shook his head. He shifted his hands from clasped behind him to folded in front of him. His stern expression softened, if only a bit.

“That won't be necessary. You have, against all odds, convinced me of the authenticity of your intentions.” Bey'ron stated. “And with that, not only do I feel merciful enough not to execute you, but furthermore to arrange for you to meet the son you abandoned over two hundred years ago.”

A smirk returned to his face.

“But make no mistake, Kai’eka Sunwhisper, you will atone. In exchange for keeping Kynlea alive, both thus far and from here on out… you work for me, now. Is that absolutely clear?”

Her ears remained lowered, flickering as she listened attentively. She'd managed to calm herself somewhat. It was a conflicting clash of emotions. Despite the hate she'd built up against this man in front of her in such a short period of time, he was also the only reason Kynlea was alive.

To say she was surprised he was sparing her life was an understatement. He was going to let her live AND grant her request to see Kynlea? It certainly felt too good to be true. What was in it for him, other than yet another hired muscle? 

She nodded, agreeing to the terms. She could figure it out later. Right now, she was in no position to argue. 

“Understood,” she replied.

“Good. We’ll start by hunting down your former comrade, Miss Ruavin. You clearly hold no stock in her ambitions, so instead you’ll help me break them.” Bey’ron instructed, straightening his robes. “But first… I told you I’d consider answering some of your questions if I liked what I heard. And since we’ve come to this agreement, suffice it to say that I do. So, do you have anything you’d like to ask me?”

“Why do you care that I atone?” She asked plainly, “Magisters aren't known for their mercy.”

Kai’eka wasn't always the sharpest, but she'd lived and worked in Quel'Thalas a very long time before her exile. Bey’ron would certainly get high praise and influence for capturing and executing a traitor. She couldn’t imagine anyone being happy with his decision to let her live. From what she experienced at the Pass, he wasn’t short on muscle, either.

“Mm, no… I suppose we aren't, are we?” Bey’ron chuckled, amused at how enduring the Magistry's reputation for ruthlessness was. “If you don't atone, the alternative is death. I think that would be a waste, don't you? You're rather strong, and well experienced. Not too bright, but so long as you're obedient, that's hardly an issue. And seeing as you literally died for your devotion, misplaced as it may have been, that shows you possess loyalty. In short… you'd make a much better asset than a corpse.”

He shrugged, crossing his arms.

“Besides, if you don't atone, I'd have to kill your son, too. That would also be a waste, I think.” the Magister sighed. “You two possess a lot of the same qualities that make you such promising assets.”

Her ears flickered in annoyance. 

“Noted,” she replied, “What about the mark? Are you able to remove it? Kynlea goes free now, yeah?”

“Unfortunately, no. It is dormant, however. Isolated from detection by the Void Lords or their agents.” the Magister explained. “But otherwise, yes. I’ll have him released from custody, and bring him here in an hour or two for the heartfelt reunion you’ve been seeking with him.”

He stepped back, and once again bid the portal to close. It shrank down quickly, the connection between the cell and wherever the Magister was fading quickly. His voice echoed before the portal vanished;

“Welcome back to Quel’Thalas, Kai’eka Sunwhisper.”