As Khadgar pushes open the massive door to the Violet Citadel to admit them, the heavy dark wood gliding effortlessly across the tiled floor is surprisingly silent.
The scene inside, however, is anything but.
"Jaina, you have to!"
Varian Wrynn stands in the center of the grand hall, facing a half circle of mages, all clad in various trappings and robes of station. Camdyn hasn't seen him since the night before, since she'd... He had already been off the ship by the time she had gotten her armor back on and made it to the upper deck, and Camdyn's throat closes at the sight of him. At how notably tense his shoulders are even under his armor, at the true beginnings of a beard shading and softening the strong line of his jaw, at the same intensity she'd first seen in Icecrown so many years ago and in so many battles since sparking in his eyes.
As quickly as she acknowledges it, she tamps it all down as firmly as she ever has, her own shoulders rolling as she tries to ignore her hammering pulse and the fluttering of her stomach. They aren't here because she had an extreme lapse in judgment. They aren't here so she can nurse a decade old crush.
They're here to try to save Azeroth.
"No, Varian, I don't!" Jaina snaps as Camdyn slips fully into the room and Khadgar slides the door shut behind them. They take up what Camdyn hopes is an inconspicuous position against the wall. "Have you so quickly forgotten that they abandoned us to die on the Broken Shore? Have you forgotten what they did to Theramore? Have you forgotten what they did to Anduin?"
"Jaina-" It's more of a snarl than a word, his brow darkening and fists clenching.
"They're cowards, Varian!" Jaina cuts him off with a firm shake of her head, and even from across the room Camdyn can see the pulse in Jaina's throat throbbing with what she can only assume is adrenaline and rage. "Monsters! Accepting them back is only asking for them to betray us again, and that is a risk we cannot take, especially with the Legion practically on our doorstep."
Khadgar finally moves away from her, stepping into the center of the hall next to Varian and putting himself squarely in the proverbial line of fire. "Jaina," he says, his voice steady and calm, which oddly only seems to thicken the tension that's already heavy in the room, "Varian is right. We need the Horde mages back in the Kirin Tor. We cannot fight a war against both the Horde and the Legion. Of the people standing in this room, I'm the only one to have seen the full might of the Legion brought to bear, and I assure you they are the more dire threat. We cannot defeat them alone."
Jaina's eyes flash and her lips thin. "Camdyn," her eyes are still locked on Khadgar, but her chin tilts in Camdyn's direction. "Time and again, I've seen you stand against the Horde. You have seen the Horde's cowardice at Theramore and at the Wrathgate. You helped purge the Sunreavers from Dalaran after they stole the Divine Bell and delivered it to Garrosh. Tell me, what would you do in my place?"
Camdyn's tongue feels like lead and her throat is painfully dry as she forces a swallow. "Truthfully, my lady?"
There's a shrewdness in Jaina's gaze as it finally slides to her that makes Camdyn shift self-consciously in her boots, and it takes almost every bit of self-control she has not to flinch. "I don't make a habit of seeking counsel hoping for lies."
It feels like everyone in the room is watching her, waiting for her answer as she weighs her words, and it makes her skin tingle uncomfortably. Especially when she sees Varian turn to face her as well. She carefully advances to the middle of the room herself, taking up a position next to Khadgar before she addresses the Council. "I would take the help," she finally says, as earnestly as she can manage. "I would watch both my back and their blade hand, but I would still take it."
"Even after all the atrocities you've seen first hand? Even after the Broken Shore?"
"Yes, my lady. Even after it all. Fighting a war on two fronts is foolish at best and suicide at worst. Especially against an enemy like the Legion."
"'The enemy of my enemy is my friend.'," Jaina scoffs, "but what if your 'friend' doesn't feel the same?" It's clearly a rhetorical question. One Camdyn refuses to blame her for.
"None of them are wrong, Jaina," Archmage Modera says, her alto voice cutting firmly through the silence. "Now is not the time to hold tight to old grudges, no matter how justified those grudges may be. I call for a vote. All those in favor of reinstating mages belonging to the Horde races into the Kirin Tor?"
When only one other dissenting vote is placed, Jaina's gaze drifts to the floor, her pupils wide and her nostrils flaring before her mouth sets in a compressed line. When she looks up again, her eyes are shuttered and cold. "If this is the road you all wish to travel down," she says, ice practically frosting the edges of her words, "then so be it. But you'll be doing it without me. Mark my words, Khadgar: the Horde can't be trusted. I'm just sorry it will take another betrayal before you understand that. I can only hope you live through it to understand."
A portal opens behind her and before another word can be spoken, Jaina Proudmoore is gone.
The portal snaps closed as quickly as it had opened, and the silence it leaves behind feels deafening.
"That," Khadgar sighs as he rubs a hand across his forehead, "ended much more poorly than I'd hoped."
"I would consider that an understatement," Varian murmurs, his gaze still locked where Jaina had been standing only moments before. He blows out a harsh breath through his nose before turning to Khadgar. "We don't have time to waste while the rest of the Kirin Tor votes in a replacement for Jaina. Are you capable of serving as the head of the Council of the Six?"
"I don't know," Khadgar admits, his confusion and reluctance near palpable as he shoves a hand through his hair. "I haven't served among the Kirin Tor in years, and truth be told they never have liked me much."
"They don't need to like you," Varian assures him, "just listen to you. You yourself pointed out that you're the only one of us to have seen the full might of the Legion. We need an experienced hand on the rudder, and you seem to be the most experienced hand we have."
"The rest of the Kirin Tor will follow our lead," Archmage Modera says. "Varian is right: we need someone with experience to guide us, and you're the best resource we have. You'll be hard pressed to find a mage of the Kirin Tor who would disagree with that." She steps toward them and lays a reassuring hand on Khadgar's shoulder. "Besides," she adds, the corner of her mouth curling in a wry grin, "I've always liked you just fine, you daft old bat."
Khadgar snorts out a chuckle. "And here I was, prepared to find that reassuring, Modera. Right up until the end, at least."
Archmage Modera's smile turns genuine. "Just until the end? Clearly my punchlines need some work, then."
As Khadgar and Modera drift toward the foot of the stairs, their voices low in conversation, Camdyn is suddenly painfully aware of the fact that Varian is still standing next to her. She's equally aware of the heat flaring across her cheeks and the quickening of her pulse. Cautiously, she cuts a look at him from the corner of her eye.
Their gazes lock, just for a moment, and she can't breathe because her heart has jumped into her throat. There's something pensive in the line of his brow and she hopes desperately that her cheeks aren't as red as they feel.
Because she hadn't been near as drunk last night as she'd hoped: she still vividly remembers everything - the musk of his sweat, the taste of salt from his cheek, the heat of the edge of his mouth against hers. She should apologize. It was an overstep, and it was inappropriate. It was more than likely unwelcome.
She's trying to find the words to ask him for a private moment that won't compound the feeling she's about to spontaneously combust from shame when the massive door slams open, and brilliantly blinding light floods the hall. On instinct, Camdyn steps forward, putting herself between the Council and the door. Between Varian and the door. Her hammer is already in her hands and the ground beneath her feet is already golden and glowing before her eyes have even had time to adjust.
When they do, she sees a dwarf doubled over in the doorway, hands on his knees for support, his face obscured by the wide brim of his hat.
"Brann?" Camdyn asks, incredulous, as the fire in her is doused, the golden light at the edges of her vision dissipating as quickly as she'd called upon it.
"You," Brann Bronzebeard pants as he straightens and points an accusatory finger over Camdyn's shoulder, "are one difficult bastard to find, do you know that? You'd think with your armor being so distinctive I could spot you from Krasus' Landing, but, no, you've got yourself shut in a damned mage tower making me chase all over the blasted city trying to find you."
"In my defense," Varian responds, humor rich in his voice, "it was an unexpected stop. I'd thought to offload our wounded and return to Stormwind." His eyes darken and the set of his mouth tightens before he adds, "Jaina had other plans."
Brann makes his way into the hall, his eyes scanning the group of mages at the foot of the stairs before making a harrumphing noise in the back of his throat. "I'll have to ask her about those plans next time I see her, then," he says. He stops in front of Varian, squinting under his hat. "Your pauldrons are missing, lad. In case you hadn't noticed."
"That's," Varian pauses to scratch at his beard, "a long story," he says mildly. "Why were you looking for me?"
"It's Magni. He's up and around. And I've heard rumors he's in Ulduar."
"Magni?" Khadgar's voice rings from across the room, sounding as shocked as Camdyn feels and Varian looks.
"Are you sure?" Camdyn asks. "But he was turned to diamond. I thought he hadn't survived."
"Aye, lass, that's what we all thought. But he's missing from Ironforge. I've seen it myself. Raced straight to find you," he nods to Varian, "once I'd confirmed it." A broad smile stretches Brann's mouth. "It's just a dwarf's honest luck my favorite student is here as well," he says to Camdyn as he reaches into the pouch on his belt and produces a thick metal coil. He drops it to the floor where it expands and rotates, growing until it's large enough to stand upon, a heavy golden gear with a glowing blue light at its center.
"An Ulduar teleporter?" Everything in Camdyn wants to step on the plate, but she hesitates; she hadn't thought it possible for one to function outside the Titan fortress.
"An Ulduar teleportation pad," Brann corrects. "Mimiron gave it to me in case of an emergency. I'd say my supposedly-dead brother walking around a Titan structure qualifies as an 'emergency', don't you? I assume you're coming with me, lass. Any other takers?"
Camdyn feels Varian's energy shift as surely as she hears his scale mail clinking as his weight shifts in his boots. She chances a look at him, and the set of his shoulders is as familiar to her as the weight of her hammer on her back. It's the stance of a soldier. His gaze flicks to hers and something passes between them, something that sends a tingle zipping up her spine. He offers her the barest nod and allows her to return in kind before he speaks. "I'll go."
Khadgar steps forward. "I will, as well. If it's truly Magni, I have a great deal of questions for him."
Brann motions to the pad on the floor. "After you lot, then."
The breath Camdyn takes stretches her ribs. As she exhales, she steels herself and steps onto the pad.