Author's note: I considered very seriously to delete the Epilogue, since my editing of Age of Mortals have meant that I have to rewrite all the chapters. However, I decided against it. Please, have patience…

CHAPTER 1

LOST

It was cold - shockingly so after the warmth of the cave - and wet and stinking of rotten vegetation and something that was only definable as decay. Jaina let go of Thrall's waist, and fell on her back into soft, slimy mud. She stared up, her field of vision half filled with his hunched body, half with the clouded sky.

"It's over," she whispered, in disbelief. Cynoval was incapacitated and that was all that mattered for her right now, in this moment. She was dead tired, felt like she had been turned inside out, and her leg was burning, but that was all. No nagging presence in her mind, no muttering distrust. She was free.

"We would have been buried with the – demon – had it not been for you," Thrall said slowly. He looked away. "Why? After all we did? Why bury us?" His voice was heavy and wretched, and Jaina scrambled to her feet in panic, only to fall down on one knee with an outcry of pain. The wound in her leg had reopened when the Hollow One had approached her – or perhaps the healing had been an illusion all along.

"Jaina, take care!" In a flash, he was at her side, easing her back down into the muck. He pulled off one gauntlet and ran a hand down her left leg. His touch was so gently it was hard to reconcile with the damage he had dealt the Hollow One.

"The piece of wood is gone and the wound does not look as bad as before. Do you have any healing?" His voice still held a dark undercurrent, but there was also sincere worry and warmth, and she could have cried from relief. He was broken, but it was his own brokenness, not demonic influence.

"No, I used my last vial when I got wounded in the first place."

His gaze flickered and then he gave her a tight smile. "It's okay. Let me -" He closed his hand around her legs, his hand so large that his fingers almost met around her calf, and closed his eyes. Warmth emanated from his hand, and the pain eased.

We will have to come back", she said bleakly. "You will have your chance to repent. For now, can there not be a small grace in an evil conquered?" She looked at him pleadingly.

He grumbled something too low for her to pick up, and helped her stand, still avoiding her gaze.

"Thrall, what is it - Light, don't move!" Jaina stared at the long spike of crystal protruding from his shoulder, where it had cut straight through the metal of his armor.

He grunted, and twisted his neck to look at the spike.

"Bigger than I thought," he grunted. "Doesn't hurt that much. I think the armor halted it. Besides, didn't you say that you had no healing left?"

"No, but I have hands," she retorted, more in spite that anything else. Even in peak condition, she could hardly make a razor-sharp piece of crystal lodged in solid steel budge.

"Do not worry, Lady Proudmoore, I promise I'll not drop dead right away."

"Don't say that!" Jaina retorted, more harshly than she had intended.

Thrall frowned, and then winced as he carefully moved his shoulder.

"I will not, then," he said wearily, and Jaina shook her head hastily. They were still so raw, so vulnerable.

"No, please, I only meant that loosing you, now, it would be devastating." As soon as the words were out she knew them to be the absolute truth.

"Truly?" he said mildly.

"Truly," she confirmed, with a tentative smile. Standing here, in muck to her ankles and nose full of decay, she felt like she was coming back to herself. The nightmarish miasma of the last few weeks was receding into her mind to take their place amongst her memories, and her eyes were unclouded.

It was not really time for formalities, but this she had to say. There could be no mistakes now. They had to do this right.

"Thrall," she began slowly, intentionally using his name. "We were trust together by forces out of our control, and despite the history of our races we became allies. We have won all our battles, overcome all obstacles, and I will say this: I have never met a braver warrior or a more capable leader. I believe that we can do something good in these lands, together. If you want to." She held out her hand and was proud to notice that it did not tremble.

Thrall's face did nothing to hide his genuine feelings – blue eyes widening and tusked jaw falling slightly open. Then he blinked and rapidly collected himself. The shocked expression was replaced with one of happiness, equally genuine, and there was a warm glow in his eyes that almost masked the fatigue and ache.

"Lady Proudmoore, before you, I have only met one human being that was kind to me. You have shown me more than kindness. You have shown me the future, and it is a good one."

He clasped her hand in his much larger one.

"Jaina, it is an honor to know you," he said formally, and then he grinned and pulled her close in a bear hug. Jaina let out a surprised wheeze, and then hugged him back as best she could.

Together, bloody, beaten, victorious, they hugged and laughed until their throats were dry, and Jaina found it hard to breath.

Slowly, Thrall loosened his hold.

"I can barely believe that we are alive," Jaina said, sucking in much-needed air. "My father would have slapped me for just a fraction of all the foolishness I have managed so far."

"Then your father is a royal fool," Thrall said, and Jaina muttered something noncommittal and added aloud: "This alliance, we cannot allow it to be broken."

"If there is one thing I have learned from this nightmare," the Warchief said, looking down at her gravely, "it is how easy it can all fall apart. A word, a willful misinterpretation... I have my sanity back, Jaina, and I do not mean to squander it."

"Good." Tiredly, Jaina laid her cheek on the cool metal covering his broad chest. Too late, she became aware, not so much of what she was doing, for they were no closer than when he had carried her, but how it made her feel. Too late. Time can never be turned back, and truths, however unpleasant and impractical, have a tendency to worm their way to the surface.

Thrall pushed her away. Not roughly, not even close. A broad hand on her shoulder, then he simply stretched his arm.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"So am I," he replied. Yes, it was over. For now.