The Outland reminded him at times of a great desert. The magic inherent in it shimmered almost like heat mirages, and no matter where you were—from the actual desert-like landscape of Hellfire Peninsula to the twisting precariousness of the Netherstorm—there was a sense of vastness.
He knew, logically, that there was indeed Space spread out on all sides of the broken world, but it was a different sense. It was a feeling as though everything was far away and distorted, as though the great desert you wandered through was at the bottom of a vast ocean. The light coming to you through the refracting mirrors of the waves.
Rommath had followed his Prince here, had vowed to serve and to advise him as best he could. He had known that eventually someone would be sent back; someone had to take what they had learned back to Quel'thalas. He hadn't imagined it would be himself, though.
As he knelt before his Prince and renewed his vows of loyalty he resolved to make the best of it. He had known that all things must come to an end.
He hadn't known that by going back, one day he would make himself a liar.
