It's been hours since the thunder came.
At first there was confusion. The sky had been clear. The battle, fought on distant shores. But the glow had dispelled that quickly enough. From a distance I imagine it must have held a sort of beauty.
Terror followed, as it does, and the people found themselves under your boughs. It must be a cold comfort, knowing they still turn to you, even now. Knowing the true faithful will burn up beneath your gaze.
There has not been time for anything else. Not yet.
Closer
I wonder how many have found hope from these pools? Did you keep count? Paint each one into the heavens to never fade? And now...? Was that all cruel barbs and jest?
No...
No, I can feel the heat in the stone - in the wood, the air. In the glow outside, cradling me. Reminding me of another time, long ago, when I faced a different flame. These soot stained waters will bubble and hiss into nothing, yes. But they still carry reflections. The weak, laboring, wheezing to stand. The hale, still as statues. Whole worlds unravel in their eyes and you would say I cannot know their thoughts. But I know their thoughts.
Because they are my people.
Closer
I think of those standing on the shore, basking in the light of this pyre. You know them - I have to believe, even now, you are preparing a place for them. For that failed and painted puppet who struck down your daughter's love and then moaned like an ignorant child of dishonor. For the petulant corpse turned warchief - that dull mote that thinks because she died but was refused death that she knows suffering.
It seems such a simple calculus, to know which is worse. Not the beast that gave the order, but the ones who so quickly followed it. The hand that wielded the ax and now directs this...atrocity. The masses that crow of honor but abide its mockery ruling over them.
In truth, it doesn't matter. They can set these fires. But the waters still carry reflections and I see ours burn brighter. There will be no regrowth for this craven horde. Only scraps pinned to the stars so you too may have your fill.
Closer
I look out at this burning stump, and I cannot help but wonder. What is the point? What does she hope for with this tantrum? To cow her enemies? To spill their spirit on these stones? Like so many fools that came before, does she think to break a people by beating them?
If so, she joins an ignoble line. Because the waters still carry reflections, and I see the faces. Alien for so long, but no longer. Revolted for so long, but no longer. I see a woman stand on shaking legs that soon steady. In the heart of this blaze, this sin, her eyes, searching, find mine. As it was so long ago, she does not shy back, does not judge, does not pity. We are sisters again.
I watch her breathe in the ashes of her home. And be transformed. It is a different sort of poison than the fel, but there are many ways to become a hunter of demons.
The thunder draws near...
Elune, may it not fade in my time.
- Slayer's prayer in the Temple of Elune as the world catches fire