Author's Notes: Three weeks, almost to the day! At least I'm consistent :D.

Replies: Nashiro: Usually I can interpret your comments but this time even I'm kind of stumped ha ha.

Ihsan: I've already replied to this but Cataclysm is canon for Kalibose and Mae, but Zara and Elf kind of sat it out.

BEFORE

For several interminable minutes there was nothing but stunned silence in the Tribunal Chamber. A hesitant voice, one belonging to a more liberal council member spoke.

"Are you sure that is the best course, Tenethor?"

Anything else he would have said was lost to Kalibose because his stomach took that moment to heave and he vomited helplessly on his shoes. He panted, trying to catch his breath, barely able to catch snippets of the arguments around him.

Banished?

"-he's just a boy Tenethor, he'll die out there in the wilderness-"

"-a fine decision if you ask me, we can't go soft on these miscreants or who knows where we'll be-"

"-he is so young, to have this ruin his entire life-"

"-this is just throwing away a problem, instead of dealing with it properly. I still say he should be brought before the Archdruid-"

"Silence."

Tenethor Woodstalker's voice cut through the chatter. He stood before his chair as if made from stone, cold and impassive. Kalibose's stomach heaved again and he desperately tried to swallow it down.

"I have made my final decision. If any are opposed, then we will vote properly, without debate."

Kalibose was shaking uncontrollably. He had held back the worst of the withdrawal symptoms before the verdict and now it was converging on him at once. He barely registered as the council took a vote, and approved Tenethor's decision with a two-third's majority. Some of the council members looked uncomfortable as they put their hands up, but obviously not uncomfortable enough to go against their leader.

Intermittently through the hushed discussions was the sound of someone crying. Kalibose sat up straighter, fighting against the withdrawal that was causing him to lose control of his body. That sounded like his mother. He twisted his head in both directions and finally spotted the rest of his family. They were seated directly behind him, so that he had to strain until he almost knocked his chair over. Lunariel's face was covered by a lace shawl, but Kalibose could just barely see her shoulders shaking. He spotted Terral sitting beside her, and the look of disgust on his face was nothing he didn't expect. But it was Lorel, seated on the other side of his mother, that crushed what little spirit he had left. His petite older sister, with her obscenely long white hair braided ornately behind her and wearing a green robe similar to their father's had such a terrible look of anger and horror on her face that he immediately turned his head back around and stared at the sodden earth in front of him. He had not realized until that moment how much he was counting on support from her, and now he could see clearly just how much she hated him.

Banishment. It was a punishment that he had only read about in books. Even executions for high treason were done in the public eye. He had turned old enough to attend one a year ago, and did so out of morbid curiosity. The man, a druid, had been corrupted in the Dream and attempts to cure him had failed. During that time he had rampaged, killing men, women, children, animals, anything he came in contact with. The things that stood out to Kalibose of the affair might have been less consequential to others-the grim look on Archdruid Staghelm's face, the gleam of the Sentinel's glaive in the moonlight, the hushed chanting that gradually rose in intensity until it filled the grove with unrestrained fury. It was then that Kalibose was starkly reminded of his roots: the Kal'dorei were a proud race of fierce warriors and not just tenders of nature or this political nonsense that he was mostly inundated with. The silence that fell over the crowd as the glaive sliced through the man's neck was ominous and satisfactory, like the bloodlust that had been common only decades before had been satiated for a little bit longer.

Execution was talked about, attended, tossed about in the open air like one's laundry. But Banishment was something only spoken about in hushed whispers among their elders. With recent new Alliances with other races of Azeroth, the punishment had fallen out of favor. All he knew was that if an outcast attempted to return to his homeland, he would be put to death.

Kalibose was ashamed to feel tears start to run down his face again. He didn't want to be banished. Even if his mother, father, and siblings wanted nothing to do with him, he didn't want to be rejected as a Kal'dorei forever. Above him, his father turned to address the room.

"Now that we have come to an agreement-"

"Wait!" Kalibose tried to stand and stumbled, holding on to the arms of the chair. Tenethor looked at him, and for the first time showed a hint of emotion. Sobs nearly choked Kalibose as he held one hand out to him, begging like a child. "Please, Father, don't do this."

Tenethor's face hardened back into stone.

"You are no son of mine."

He turned to the rest of the council as Kalibose felt what was left inside of him shatter into pieces on the floor.

"Clean him up. I will prepare the ritual myself."

The next stretch of time passed in a hazy sort of blur. Hands untied him and drug him to his feet. His robe was removed and his arms were shoved into the sleeves of another one. It was loose on him, and someone knotted a belt tightly around his waist. Someone swiped a wet rag across his face and his boots, then his hair was pulled into a tight tail at the base of his skull. Kalibose was numb to it all. Tears dripped down his eyes and off the end of his nose. He stood obediently, shivering violently, as things were moved around the arena in front of him and his chair was taken away. He kept his eyes on the ground, unseeing, wanting nothing more than to wake up from this nightmare that had descended on his life.

He was vaguely aware of the shouts and discourse in the Tribunal Chamber fading to a dull hum. Heavy footsteps stopped right in front of him, and listlessly, he lifted his chin. His father had removed his expensive robes and the crown of stag antlers. He was dressed in a sleeveless linen tunic and pants, his hair loose behind him. He had painted a rune in dark purple ink on his forehead, and in his hand he held long feather. For some reason the feather made him curious, and he focused on it as his father began chanting quietly under his breath. It appeared to be mostly black, fading to a royal blue at the ends. As his father stepped closer, he saw that it was not a solid color, but mottled with small white spots. It looked like a starling feather, but it must have belonged to the biggest starling in Kalimdor: it was half as long as his father's forearm. The men standing behind Kalibose pushed him down to his knees roughly and tilted his head back. He watched the feather descend closer to his face, and in panic, shifted his gaze to his father's face. The druid's golden eyes glowed in the low light, lit by an intensity that was not characteristic of him. Tenethor Woodstalker held the starling feather above his son's forehead, frozen in place as he finished the incantation. He met his son's eyes briefly, and Kalibose thought he saw tears glistening in the corners, before he pressed the end of the feather to his head like it were a quill. Fire erupted on his face, blinding him, and Kalibose heard a horrible screaming that he soon realized was coming from his own mouth. Two slow short strokes, then one long interminable one that circled and crossed the other two. It was as if his father was searing the brand into Kalibose's soul. Liquid, either blood or sweat, trickled down his face and to the side of his nose. Finally, Tenethor lifted the feather. Black crept in on Kalibose's vision as his father spoke in a strangled tone of voice.

"It is done."

The men holding him on his knees released him, and he pitched forward onto the sand, finally losing consciousness.

NOW

Kalibose sat up abruptly, fumbling at the sheets that had become entangled in his legs. Finally he yanked them off in one movement to the floor. He sat, gripping the edges of the narrow cot, panting, trying to get his bearings. Although he often had nightmares, and Elune above knew that he had lived through enough to fuel his night terrors for a lifetime, he hadn't dreamt of his trial in a long time. He rubbed a shaky hand over his face he was sweating, even though the air inside the shoddy barracks was chill. He and Mae had ultimately stayed the night in Honor's Stand. There had not been an Inn proper, as he had feared. They had both found an empty bed in with the soldiers, and Kalibose slept poorly, trying to ignore the strange sounds and pungent smells of the other inhabitants. He could not escape his self-loathing in the dark of the night.

By the grey light trickling in through the slots in the windows, he assumed it was right before dawn. He peered around the dark room blearily until he spotted Mae's empty cot pushed against the wall, the blankets neatly folded on top of it. With a groan Kalibose swung his legs off the cot and tried to rub feeling back into his face. If that infernal monk had taken off before dawn on this fool journey she insisted on, then there wasn't anything else to do about it.

The hum of the crystal still bound to his staff greeted him as he retrieved his things from under the cot. He sat for a moment as he collected his thoughts, running his thumb along a particularly deep rune carved right near the base. It looped into a nearly complete circle that intersected itself, a symbol that in this case was a minor spell, that aid would follow him in his travels. He had rolled his eyes when he saw that his mentor had etched it with the other symbols of power. Wasn't the whole point of learning the arcane and finally setting out on his way to NOT have to depend on anyone else? In fact he'd been so irritated that a space on his staff had been wasted with such a useless rune he had considered removing it and replacing it with something handy, like a minor power amplifier, or a mana boost. But in the end he had left it, because he wanted to leave as soon as possible for Dustwallow Marsh.

Now, just like everything else around him, he wasn't sure of it anymore. He was stuck in an Alliance base that he had no way of getting out of, at least for awhile. A less-than-helpful officer had informed him last night that gryphons were off-limits for civilians, no exceptions. A supply shipment was scheduled to go through in about eight days, and he was welcome to hitch a ride with them. Kalibose had turned around and stalked off before his snarky reply could leave his mouth.

The trip had been a mixture of bad and good luck. He had acquired the crystal; but it was volatile. He had someone help him that was very useful; but now they were stuck together. They had escaped the ogres only to land in a military base under attack, escaped there, only to be stuck again. In irritation he struck the base of his staff against the side of his boot. It was obvious, to him at least, that the rune was useless.

Still feeling raw around the edges from his tormented dreams, Kalibose straightened his clothes and made his way out of the Barracks. The crisp air greeted him as he pushed the flap back and stepped out. It was right at dawn- the air was still and the sky still painted a light grey in the east. There were a few soldiers out mostly gathered around the mess tent, but there was also a contingent running through training exercises out across the field. He stood for a moment, taking clear air into his lungs and feeling his mind calm. Movement caught his eye, out to the side of the barracks, and curious, he followed it.

It was Mae. Silhouetted against the new light of dawn at first he thought her to be dancing. He stood for a moment, perplexed, he realized she was not dancing, but going through a series of stretches and exercises. The difference between the soldiers training just over the hill and the monk's simple performance was like night and day. The soldiers grunted, sweated, stomped their feet and threw their weight around. Mae moved slowly, precisely, every movement deliberate and silent. A moment passed, and he realized he had been standing and staring at her like some sort of creep. Clearing his throat loudly, he made a show of walking over to a convenient rock and settling down. She did not outwardly acknowledge his presence, but when she finished her routine with a solemn bow, she had turned to face him. He twisted his face into a smirk and slowly clapped, trying to hide the fact that he was, in fact, impressed. She strode his way, shaking her silver hair out of its high ponytail.

"I saw you when you first walked out." She smiled at him as she rummaged through her pack beside the rock. "I haven't practiced for a few days. It always calms my mind, and this situation, I think, is in need of calm thoughts."

He nodded in agreement. She took a roll of tape out of her bag, and sat down right in front of him, cross-legged in the dew-covered grass. He watched as she performed what was obviously a daily ritual for her. She started at her thumb, wrapped the tape wide around her wrist, then brought it up to separate each knuckle. She did this smoothly and accurately, each strip of tape having a purpose and nothing superfluous. It was almost calming, the way she fluidly wrapped her hands to become weapons.

Kalibose again, found himself watching her without commenting, and he tried to come up with something to say.

"That is interesting, the way you are taping each knuckle separately."

"Perform each action with intent, let nothing you do be without purpose." She adopted a Pandaren accent briefly, before relaxing back into her own lilting voice. "We are taught early on how to correctly bind our hands, so that we don't break our fists on someone's face."

To emphasize, she slammed one fist into her open hand.

"After seeing you yesterday, I believe it."

Mae flipped her head upside down to gather her shoulder-length hair back up into a ponytail. It struck him, during his short time among his people, that he had not seen another female who had chosen to cut her hair so dramatically. His own sister's was kept uncut, at his mother's insistence, but even the Sentinels he had sometimes viewed on the streets of Darnassus usually had long hair kept back in a series of braids and coils. He wondered how much else had changed about the Kal'dorei while he had been gone.

"So what is your plan? Going to wait for the caravan?"

Kalibose pressed his mouth together as he gazed off into the lightening sky. The day had dawned clear, which was at least a heartening sign.

"Not if I can help it. And you? Still determined to sacrifice yourself to the wilds of Stonetalon?"

Mae's mouth turned up into a smirk as she turned the phrase back to him.

"Not if I can help it."

She settled down onto the rock beside him, and he shifted over abruptly, so they were not actually touching. He realized that she was back to her normal friendly state, instead of the cautious distance she had kept him at since he told her about the Mark. This change puzzled him.

"I spoke with the man at the armory last night, and it should be no problem to get a training staff to take with me."

She leaned back, tapping each finger thoughtfully as she went through her list.

"All I have to do now is find a map, and pack some supplies. I should be ready to go by this afternoon."

Kalibose dismissed most of what she said and focused on what was bothering him.

"You're not afraid of me anymore."

Mae stopped making her plans and looked up at him in curiosity.

"Should I be?"

Kalibose felt like his eyebrows might fly off the top of his head.

"I am an outcast."

"Well, you were marked as an outcast because you wanted to do magic. Magic isn't illegal now. So by my logic, you're not a criminal, just the victim of a misunderstanding."

She shrugged, and although Kalibose didn't like much being referred to as a victim, he pressed on.

"Are you sure? I am completely unrepentant you know. I practice my crime every single day."

Mae turned to face him fully, her now-wrapped hands braced on her knees.

"In my not-so-popular opinion, magic isn't a crime unless you use it for evil. So far all I've seen you do is make a campfire, cool off coffee, teleport, oh and rescue me from ogres. You're not evil, Kalibose. Not by a long shot."

She went back to digging through her bag, her voice muffled as she searched.

"Although I do understand why you would be unable to accompany me through Stonetalon. I don't want to get you in trouble with the Sentinels."

"I've been thinking about that, actually."

That was a lie. He had actively NOT been thinking about it. A horrible niggling fear had settled into his chest when she had first mentioned it, and he had been doing everything in his power not to think about her trying to make it alone in that hostile wasteland. But now he had nowhere to go, nothing to do but wait, and his mind had started to piece together an idea completely against his will.

"In the time since my last pleasant trip through the Stonetalon Mountains, the Alliance have established a base about halfway though. There is a possibility that you and I both could catch a flight home from there."

She was smiling at him again, and he was ashamed how much he enjoyed it.

"If nothing else, a few days of travel would show you how to navigate the land, and you'd be able to make it easier after that. I unfortunately am familiar with the way."

Mae tipped her head to the side, scrutinizing his face in a way that suddenly made him uncomfortable.

"You are not just doing this because you feel sorry for me, are you?"

"Hell no, I want out of here just as much as you do. I'm not sitting on my ass waiting for a supply convoy. If I'm at least on the road, I don't have to bunk in with a bunch of malodorous soldiers."

He stood abruptly, feeling like he was talking too much but unable to stop it.

"I'm not going to sit around and wait for you though, I expect you to keep up. Stonetalon is a hard area of wilderness to travel through, and we will have both be on our top game."

Inwardly he cringed at his hypocrisy, thinking of the unpredictable staff strapped to his back. Mae crossed her arms and smirked at him.

"You won't have to worry about my top game. I'll be running circles around anything that comes at us."

She picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder.

"I'm going to pick up a staff from the armory and get some supplies. Can you find a map?"

Kalibose wondered where this conversation took a turn that he was no longer in control of it. He snorted derisively.

"A map? You don't need a map if I'm leading the way. I will meet you at the west entrance in an hour."