He moved quickly down the rainy streets, several times losing his footing on the slick stone and almost falling into the frigid mud. A few faces poked out from their make shift shelters to glimpse the cloaked traveler, but none watched for long - in a city of refugees, there was little concern with the presence of strangers, save for the curiosity of which one of many atrocities it was they were fleeing from. And so, it was with little attention drawn to himself that the stranger managed to throw himself onto the Scryer's lift just as it left the ground level for the great library above.

As he waited for the lift to reach the top, the man clung desperately to his drenched cloak, his eyes downcast, barley visible beneath his hood. They were the only discernable feature, a vivid green that glowed faintly in the absence of light. Such eyes were not uncommon - many blood elves roamed the city - but his seemed to burn particularly intensely in a way that the young sorceress who briefly glimpsed them as he stepped off of the lift would remember them for days after.

The man did not stop to look at the slightly befuddled woman as her face disappeared below the terrace, but rather kept walking in the same hurried pace towards the impressive building in the center of the rise. Not bothering to pull back his hood, he swept into a hallway to the east side of the building, ignoring the rows and rows of shelves filled with knowledge that the great mages of distant worlds could only dream of getting their hands on. He finally stopped outside of a plain door, staring passively at the woman who guarded it. She, in turn, regarded him with cold, calculating eyes.

"If you are seeking shelter, traveler, you should head back to the lower city. There is no room for you here," she said coolly.

The stranger shook his head. "No. I must speak with Voren'Thal."

"I'm afraid not. The Seer is resting now," she narrowed her eyes. "He is not to be bothered, least of all by some nameless wanderer."

"Please," the man stepped forward. "It is urgent."

"The answer is no. Now leave before-"

"What seems to be the trouble Sellina?"

The door behind her had opened to reveal a pale elf with silver hair. His green eyes held the faintest traces of blue in their depths, and they regarded the traveler with a sort of amused curiosity.

"I am sorry sir. This man just showed up here and demanded an audience with you."

"Please, Voren," the stranger cut in. "My friend and I are in serious trouble and I think you may be the only one who can help us," his voice cracked slightly.

The seer nodded with a small smile. "Well, then, I think it is best you come inside."

Sellina started. "But Voren…"

"It is alright, Sellina. You may take your leave."

"I mean no disrespect sir, but," she glanced at the hooded man warily. "Are you sure it is wise to simply invite this stranger into your quarters? He has given no indication of alliances and-"

Voren'Thal cut her off with a wave of his hand. "I have dreamt of this," he said simply, then turned and smiled broadly at her. "It will be alright. I have been up these past few nights wondering when it is he would come."

Sellina stared at the older elf, her mouth opening and closing and she struggled to find the right words to express her mixed emotions. Seeing that the Seer's expression did not change - that same warm smile and sparkling eyes that seemed such a stark contrast to the rest of his frail countenance boring into her, she gave in and nodded. With a final, sideways glance at the stranger, she turned and left.

Voren'thal turned to the hooded man, regarding him quietly for a moment before stepping aside and gesturing for him to come inside. The wanderer swept past him, one hand still clutching his cloak tightly to keep his hood up. He paused a few feet into the room, looking around nervously. He had traveled days to make it to this place, and was now quite uncertain as to what to say. The planned monologues in his head had fallen apart at the old elf's smile. He had not expected it to be easy to make it into the Seer's quarters, and yet, despite Sellina's efforts, it had been.

The soft sound of the door closing brought him back, and he turned to face the man he had so desperately wanted to speak to.

"You mentioned you and your friend were in trouble," Voren'Thal stated matter-of-factly, tracing a finger gently across the doors surface.

"Y-yes," he stammered, trying to find the words to explain his situation. "We…we have gotten ourselves…into something that I don't think we can get out of on our own…I…" he stopped. It had been so easy in his head. Go in, tell Voren'Thal what had happened, and pray that the Seer would help him. Instead, things were unraveling faster every second, making his head spin and his heart pound. The words would not come. He chose to stare at the floor instead. He was shaking visibly now, and he knew it.

Still, the Seer seemed unfazed as he drifted across the room and eased himself down on a pillow beside a stack of books. "Your friend is not with you?"

"No. He is…" his voice cracked again. "He is in too much pain to move right now."

"No doubt a result of the beatings he must have suffered at the hands of his former masters."

The stranger's head snapped up and he stared at the old elf who simply returned his stare with a friendly gaze.

"It is just as well," Voren'Thal spoke. "I doubt that even in this city he would escape notice."

The hooded mans eyes flicked towards the door and he contemplated running.

"It is alright, Kael," Voren'Thal said with a smile. "As I have said, I have dreamed of this encounter. Sit."

Kael felt as though he was going to faint. The room was spinning rapidly now and his chest felt tight. He glanced nervously at the door again.

"It has been proofed against eavesdroppers. Do not worry. Now sit," he gestured towards one of the pillows across from him.

It was with a great lack of grace that Kael managed to stumble towards the sitting area and collapse onto on of the soft pillow. His hood had fallen back slightly, revealing stray chunks of golden hair that fell over his wide eyes.

The Seer merely continued to smile at him, conjuring a small pot of tea and two cups, one of which he offered to the visibly shaken prince, who declined with a nervous shake of his had. Voren'Thal shrugged and poured himself a cup and sipped thoughtfully for a moment.

"So, tell me," he started. "What has occurred that you would finally realize your situation and come to me for help?"

Kael hung his head and closed his eyes, desperately trying to regain what little composure he had left. It was something he immediately regretted, as the headache that had been threatening to form over the last several minutes hit him full force. He managed to choke back a sob, the memories were flooding back now, resurfacing painfully along with the guilt that came with years of mistakes. He forced it all back down and opened his eyes to find a cup of tea being held in just in front of him.

"You really should drink, you know. It will help you collect your thoughts."

This time, he took it, inhaling the familiar aroma and staring at his haggard reflection in the dark brews surface. It smelled like home.

"Better?"

He nodded, finally lifted his head and met the Seer's eyes.

"Please…" he whispered. "Help us…"

"First, you must tell me what happened."

"I…I don't know where to start," he fought back another sob. "The things I've done…I…I don't know…"

"The beginning is always a good place."

Those blue-tinted eyes stared into his, and Kael had the distinct impression they were boring into whatever remained of his soul. He looked back down at the tea, unable to bear the feeling any longer. With his own, scarcely recognizable self staring back at him, Kael took a deep shuddering breath and began to speak.