Shana, Valzul tried to say, though he found that he was unable to speak. His tongue and throat were numb, his lips dry despite the rain that poured down over the forest in vast sheets.

He lay huddled in the shadow of a bolder, staying mostly dry, but unable to shake the fever that made his skull feel like it was packed with muck. Unlike before, there was no pain as the poison worked its way through his body, though the experience was surreal. Valzul could almost feel it run through his veins and arteries like a tiny vine, tangling itself around his brain, slowly strangling him.

He barely felt in control of his own body. His movements were slow and sluggish, and his muscles protested with every effort. The entire world seemed to move and wave as though he were in a ship on a violent ocean, and several times in the past few hours he had become sick from the dizziness that was plaguing his mind. Nothing was right, and Valzul wondered if it was the poison or the simple act of dying that was making him feel this way.

Shana, he called again, or thought he did. Thoughts and reality seemed to slur together until he was unable to distinguish between the two.

As though called, a figure appeared. A tall, slender outline that gained violet skin and hair as she came closer into view. Through the haze that blurred his vision, Valzul saw a flash of silver on her side, and a vial in her hand. Rain poured over her, soaking her clothes and hair, a thin mist clouding many of her features, yet still he recognized her.

He wanted to reach out, and, to his surprise, he did. His arm stretched out into the rain, before falling weakly into the mud. He left it there, not caring, feeling a warmth spreading through him as she knelt by his side.

"Relax, Valzul," she said, her voice sounding distant. Gently, she lifted his hand from the mud and crossed it over his chest. He laid back, suddenly feeling quite tired.

Azshana's glowing silver eyes were all that Valzul saw against a rapidly dimming background. He felt her hands press him down, as though to keep him still.

"Shana-" he heard himself say.

"Don't speak," Azshana whispered. "Drink…"

Valzul felt something cold being pressed against his lips, and a warm liquid filling his mouth. It tasted foul, yet he drank it greedily, feeling it settle bitterly in his stomach. Valzul felt as though he was going to be sick.

Unlike his vision, Azshana's voice sounded somehow clear. "It's an antidote. You must keep it down."

The liquid felt as though it were boiling within him. He heaved dryly, Azshana clinging onto his trembling shoulders as he struggled with his own body. Just as quickly, he felt the antidote spread through him like fire, searing the areas where the poison was deeply entrenched.

It could not have been more than a minute, but to Valzul it seemed like hours. He had used many potions in his life, some more dangerous than others, but he had never had such a violent reaction. The antidote just burned as it went through him, indiscriminately neutralizing anything it deemed to be foreign.

Azshana's arms wrapped tightly around him as he shuddered, the sense of vertigo beginning to leave him with the pain. With his returning strength, Valzul moved and wrapped his free arm around her, inadvertently smearing her with mud.

He said nothing, riding out the last shivers of burning as the rain fell over them, little rivulets of water running around them. Lightning flashed and the sky rumbled ominously as though trying to disturb the two creatures below it.

Valzul was not cold. Even as the last of the antidote's heat died away from him, the warmth from Azshana was more than enough to eclipse the biting wind and rain that swirled around them.

He parted from her slightly, wanting just to look at her. She looked strange, attractive in an exotic kind of way. Had he been at home in Sen'jin, and had looked objectively at her, he would have thought the lack of tusks and small nose as bizarre. Her hair, so wet and matted it was almost black, was streaked with bits of leaves and mud from her rush to return to him. Her silver eyes, however, retained their silver luminosity, standing out sharply from the rain and surrounding darkness.

Valzul tilted his head towards her, pausing to judge her reaction. For a second, Azshana regarded him quizzically, before realization dawned on her and she moved slightly to him.

It was the only invitation that Valzul was looking for. Gently, attempting to keep his tusks from poking her, and moving his head so that his nose would not obstruct him, he pressed his lips against hers. The rain had made her lips cold, and Valzul reflected how different she felt and tasted compared to his former partners.

The kiss lasted no more than a few seconds, yet after they parted Valzul's heart pounded at the implications of what he had just done. Trolls had special punishments for such an offense - Valzul fleetingly wondered if Thrall had banned hexing along with executions.

Lightning cracked across the sky, and for a moment Valzul could see that Azshana wore the same apprehensive expression that he did. What had he done?

Rain began to fall in earnest - soaking them both. From above, the pregnant sky seemed to laugh through a roll of thunder.

"We- we should go," said Azshana, awkwardly getting to her feet. The wind had tore at her hair, throwing it partially over her face. "I'll come with you, but then-" She stopped, not finishing the sentence. Not wanting to finish the sentence.

"But den you gotta go," Valzul finished for her. The warmth had left him, and once more he felt a chill that had little to do with the rain and wind.

Valzul stood up with little trouble, his coordination returning, and stared eastward, into the forest, and then up into the sky. He could not look at her.

"Let's get movin' den," said Valzul, his voice carrying a strength that he did not quite feel. "Da sentinels won't see too well in dis rain."

Azshana and Valzul walked through Ashenvale in near silence, tension laying thick between them. Valzul felt compelled not to speak. He had much to say - much that he wanted to say - but knew that it was all irrelevant. The final farewell was approaching, and somehow it felt wrong.

He was not sure what he had originally expected. He had searched for her in the hopes of finally putting his mind and conscience to rest, but that had not happened.

Valzul thrust his way through the damp trees, ignoring the dead and wet leaves that clung to him as he continued to press forward. Azshana, he knew, what somewhere behind him - though he could not bring himself to check. She too must have realized the inherent impossibility of such pairing.

Valzul forced himself not to dwell on it. He had been foolish to listen to Selfa - he would have been best off if he had simply gone with Zeenjen to a new assignment. All things fade with time, and women were no exception.

The forest was becoming more foreboding as they progressed, and Valzul was not certain if it had been the same path they had originally followed. The darkness and rain made it difficult to tell, with the newly formed steams and puddles camouflaging all signs of footprints.

Valzul glanced furtively towards the forest, certain that more than once he had seen movement in the foliage. It had been barely noticeable - a slight rustling of leaves, a disturbance of a tree branch - yet it went against the wind and rain. The hair on his neck stiffened, and instinctively he clenched his fist.

Azshana seemed to have noticed the same. Her hand had wandered to the stiletto on her side, and nervously she stared into the forest that surrounded her.

A bolt of lightning lit the forest, and for an instant Valzul caught the outline of a figure crouched in the brush. Just as quickly, the figure vanished - leaving Valzul gripping his hand axe, standing protectively by Azshana as they passed through the forest.

There were rumors of worgen in Ashenvale, he knew, but Valzul was also aware that they were deep in sentinel territory. If it were an animal that was stalking them, they would likely have already been attacked. Elves, however, tended to be more methodical.

Seeing a particular dense thicket ahead, Valzul hesitated, placing his arm in front of Azshana to still her. He squinted as peered through the curtain of rain, seeing little more than vague shapes among the trees and bushes that seemed to rise up like a wall no more than ten yards ahead of them. It was the ideal spot for an ambush, with low visibility and brush obstructing their movement.

"Who be out dere!" Valzul demanded, his voice rising above the howling wind.

For a moment, only the rain answered, seeming to thin briefly before pounding down once more with renewed force. Valzul could barely see, having to cover his eyes with his hand to keep the rain from blurring his vision.

Finally, a light, feminine voice called over the wind, though Valzul was not fool enough to think the words were friendly. "Ana'theras Doran."

Sentinels. The word itself evoked all kinds of ancestral fears within him, knowing that he was in their territory, and in no way prepared for a fight. How many could there be?

"Fandu-dath-belore?" Azshana asked. Valzul glanced at her, knowing the position he was putting her in, his mind racing with how this exchange could possibly end peacefully.

An Elf in full sentinel regalia stepped out from the forest, her ash-white hair soaked, a drawn bow in her hands. She stared suspiciously between Valzul and Azshana, though she aimed squarely for the Troll. "Gala-Fandu."

Azshana spoke in a hurried string of Darnassian that Valzul could neither distinguish or understand. Her tone, however, suggested she was desperately attempting to keep the sentinel from killing the Troll on sight.

Valzul scarcely breathed. His eyes stayed on the sentinel's right hand, knowing that at any moment the Elf could loose the bow and that the arrow would plunge through his chest before he could even react. His grip on his axe tightened as his eyes strayed to briefly search the surrounding forest. Sentinels never traveled alone.

"Zala-esla Andora'nebus," the sentinel said, sounding as though she were spitting the words. Rain ran down her plated spaulders, water dripped from her bowstring.

Azshana began to protest. "Zala-"

"A Troll!" the sentinel argued suddenly in Common. Valzul tensed - waiting for one opening to hurl his hand axe. There was no readily available cover, and a distraction would be their only chance if the exchange turned violent.

"He was lost - not involved with the Warsong-"

"Asala'mel, falore," the sentinel called aloud, evidently directed to her partner who remained in the forest.

Returning her attention to Azshana, the sentinel continued, her voice laced with virulence. "Are you naïve? He is part of the Warsong infestation - have you no shame?"

"I am from Sen'jen in Durotar," Valzul said defensively. "Dis is da first time I've even been in Ashenvale-"

"Speak not another word, Troll," the sentinel warned, drawing her arrow a bit further back. Her silver eyes seemed to darken as she regarded Valzul with utmost scorn. "Drop your weapons."

Valzul's nostrils flared. He was not about to leave himself defenseless to this arrogant sentinel. He stared back at her as though issuing a challenge

Nearby, Azshana watched him, her eyes pleading, seeming to say, Please, just do it.

"Ash U'phol! Do you wish to die?"

Valzul hesitated again, half considering what would happen if he attempted to attack and flee. While he may escape, Azshana would invariably have to return to her fellow Elves. If any sentinels were able to return to report what happened, her life would be ruined.

Reluctantly, his grasp slackened, and his axe fell heavily into the mud pool that was gathering around his feet. Drawing his other axe, he did the same so that both laid at his feet, half sunk into the ground. Rain swirling around him, he stepped backwards, bowing to his fate.

The sentinel nodded curtly before calling out again to her partner. There was no response.

More thunder. More rain. Branches snapped from trees as another fierce wind swept over them. Valzul's feet were beginning to sink into the thick mud, and this combined with the wind made it difficult for him to remain steady. A light mist was beginning to cloud the forest, turning the sentinel into little more than a shining blur.

"Falore?" The sentinel's grip on her bow lessened as she risked turning around to peer into the forest. There was still no response. She quickly returned her attention to Valzul, though this time the confusion was apparent in her eyes.

Something was amiss. He looked to Azshana for explanation, but she simply stared ahead with the same nervous expression that the sentinel wore.

"Falore!"

Only thunder answered her, dim light sparking from beneath the dark clouds. Valzul wished he had kept his axes, and was tempted to retrieve them. However, the sentinel seemed on edge, and he dared not to even move.

Then, from over the sentinel's shoulder, Valzul saw movement. It was not the wind - it could not be. A shape took form, and for a moment he thought it was another sentinel, who had finally answered her sister's call. The figure was far too short, however, and looked hunched, with a slow, almost methodical gait.

Valzul could see the figure's outline more clearly as it approached, though the sheets of rain limited much detail. The arms were apart, with something dangling from its left hand, and gripping a weapon with its right. Eyes glowed, but not in the way of the Elves. They were small and piercing - a sharp contrast against the gray rain.

A gust of wind carried a scent like rot to his nose, and he reflexively cringed.

The sentinel was entirely unaware - her focus concentrated on the Troll before her. The howling wind masked the sound of the figure's approach, and she seemed little concerned with guarding her back.

"Valzul-" Azshana whispered, and he turned to see her visibly tense beside him.

The sentinel spoke again - an angry hiss of Darnassian obviously intended for Azshana. Then, in Common, she added, "Do not speak again."

The figure was moving with a patient speed, not seeming to be rushed. Soon he left the enveloping canopy of the trees, and a flash of lightning imposed a face on the figure that sent a bolt of shock down Valzul's spine.

Edwed. The name was extinct, almost forgotten with his and Azshana's haste to Ashenvale. Yet he was there, approaching them once more, rain drenching his rugged and torn clothes, blood smeared over his hands and blade. His face was barely recognizable, with some flesh missing and some re-grown, but what disturbed him the most was that Edward walked while wearing a wide, maddening grin.

Valzul's eyes drifted downwards and he was repulsed to see that the object that he had seen dangling from Edward's hand was the severed head of a Night Elf, her drained face contorted into a confused mixture of shock and fear. His boned hands clenched her olive hair like claws, the bloody stump trailing along the ground, leaving muddy pools of gore in its wake. Valzul had a terrible feeling that the head belonged to the sentinel's partner, who she had been calling for in vain only a few moments ago.

Suddenly, Edward stopped, tilting his head slightly as he gazed at Valzul, then at the still-oblivious sentinel who stood several yards from him. His grin split further, as though finding the situation hilarious, and almost casually he swung the Elf's head forward, letting it roll and finally settle in a puddle - the glow in her eyes extinguished as she stared blankly into the sky.

Azshana tried to speak. "Ana-"

The sentinel cut her off with an angry hiss, once more drawing her bow, as though with dire warning.

Conflicting emotions raced through Valzul's mind as he nervously looked between Edward and the sentinel, hastily weighing his options in a sort of crude calculation of survival.

For a moment, no one moved. Azshana stood motionless nearby, as though considering the same thoughts as Valzul. The sentinel's eyes had not left Valzul, her bow taut, seeming to assume her partner was only temporarily occupied. Not much further in the background was Edward, turning his rusted sword over and over in his hands.

Lightning cracked, and it was Valzul who moved first. Seeing the sentinel turn fleetingly to glance at the bolt, Valzul crouched, scooping his axes from the mud, before diving to the left. With a quick shriek, the sentinel loosed her arrow, though the momentary distraction combined with the wind and rain sent the missile awry into a tree, driving halfway into the trunk. He scampered to his feet, having trouble keeping a good footing, and raised his axes in a challenge. As though in answer, the sentinel tossed away her bow, steel flashing as a shortsword appeared in her hand.

From the corner of his eye, Valzul watched as Edward advanced upon Azshana. Her stiletto drawn, she did not back away, though her dagger seemed hardly a match for the Forsaken's sword. She thrust forward, nearly driving her dagger into the side of Edward's thigh, but he leapt back. Pausing, he watched her, not yet making an attack.

Presently, Valzul turned his attention back to the sentinel, wanting to knock her down quickly so that he could aid Azshana against Edward. Hearing the commotion behind her, the sentinel turned briefly around, her eyes widening as she saw Edward and then her partner's head.

"Ambush!" she cried out in Common, taking a horn from her side and blowing deeply into it. The sound resonated through the forest, driving through the trees and eclipsing the intense rain and wind.

"Ana'duna thera!"

The sentinel charged Valzul with her sword raised, slashing it ferociously through the air, raindrops skimming along the metal and flying in an arc with every swing.

Valzul could do little but dodge her attacks while retreating, his axes being poor weapons against an opponent wielding a sword. It was difficult to deflect blows with the hand axes, and he found himself more often than not simply ducking rather than attempting to match his blade against hers.

The sentinel was enraged, however, and becoming reckless. As her initial flurry of attacks began to slow, she left herself more and more open to attack. Feigning weakness, Valzul fed into her overconfidence, watching as the sentinel became less concerned with defense and more with skewering him into two.

Azshana held herself well against Edward, using her barefoot traction as an advantage on the slick ground to outmaneuver him. The frustration was evident in Edward's expression, his wide attacks betraying that he simply wanted to get close enough to overpower her - yet she would not allow it.

Valzul, for his part, was gaining an edge against the sentinel. She had eased herself into a pattern, and, after a few more swings, he was going to exploit her oversight. Seeing her sword cut horizontally through the air, he lashed out on her vulnerable right side. At the last moment, however, his sudden shift in weight made his foot slide into the muck, making his swing go wide and slow. The sentinel had more than enough time to react, neatly parrying his attack.

Valzul scrambled to recover, cursing his waste of his opportunity. The sentinel would not make such a mistake again, and he feared the consequences of spending too much time dealing with the Elf while Edward and Azshana dueled each other.

The sentinel made a sudden thrust forward, sending Valzul to the ground as he attempted to sidestep the attack, instead losing his footing and stumbling to his knees. Realizing the precariousness of his situation, he whirled around violently, hurling an axe at his opponent only to have it miss her head by inches. It fell spinning onto the ground, skipping repeatedly before finally splashing into a shallow rivulet.

Valzul felt his heart sink, feebly raising his remaining axe, watching as the sentinel's eyes lit up with victory. Fending her off was difficult with both his weapons - it would be close to impossible with one. From behind the sentinel, he saw Azshana turn and gasp.

His axe still raised, Valzul climbed to his feet while scooting backwards, sweat gathering on his forehead and neck despite the cold.

The sentinel brought her sword above her head and swung it vertically - hard. Valzul deflected it with his axe, though the tip of the blade still cut his hand. Blood flowed freely over his axe handle, yet he scarcely noticed it.

The sentinel raised it again and attacked in the same manner. She was not even trying. Valzul's knees buckled as his axe absorbed the powerful blow.

Though Valzul was barely watching, Azshana struck out with her stiletto again. As Edward parried, she struck out her leg, sending him sprawling onto the ground as his legs were kicked out from under him. Wasting no time, she turned once more to Valzul, and for a moment he met her eyes as warded off yet another attack. Blood was running down his arm in a thickness that was matched only by the rain.

The sentinel did not even notice Azshana's approach from the back. Her overconfidence and anger brimmed, content with wielding her sword like a mace, hammering the Troll again and again, knowing that she had already won.

Azshana's eyes locked onto her stiletto as she raised it into the air, directly over the sentinel's back. The blade gleamed, reflecting the breaks of thunder from overhead, dripping clean water from its tip. The wind slowed and grew still, as though in anticipation.

Valzul sucked in a breath, his axe lowering slightly as his focus left his opponent and fell upon Azshana, the realization of what she was about to do striking more thoroughly than any of the bolts of lightning. The sentinel, seeing his distraction, paused with uncertainty, though it was already too late.

With no hesitation, Azshana's stiletto plunged into her fellow Night-Elf's back, driving it all the way to the hilt. The sentinel's expression twisted with pain, her sword springing from her grip as she desperately tried to turn.

Azshana drew back her dagger, the clean blade now smeared entirely with blood; shock and fear crossing her face in waves. She took a hesitant step backwards, staring at her dagger as though not completely believing what had just occurred. Even the rain seemed to hesitate, the surrounding air beginning to grow thin.

Valzul did not react immediately. He watched as the sentinel stumbled to her knees, her head shaking, looking up at Azshana with disbelief. She glanced listlessly around, as though searching for her sword.

Axe in hand, Valzul stepped behind her. Drawing his axe back, he cleaved sideways, the edge of his axe striking the back of her head and sending her facedown into the mud.

His attention returned to Azshana. She stood apart from him, alone, the stiletto hanging loosely in her grip. "Elune forgive me," she whispered.

Valzul placed his hand on her shoulder, not sure what to say. She had killed one of her own kind - and a sentinel, no less. What was there to say? "Shana?"

No answer. Then, abruptly, she wrapped her arms around him and set her head in the crook of his neck, her entire body shaking. He said nothing more, holding her, trying to digest what he had just seen.

"I should thank you for what you did to me in the Barrens," rasped a voice from behind Valzul. He tensed and whirled, releasing Azshana, seeing Edward standing near where the sentinel had fallen. Even from there, he could smell the rot that seemed to emanate from the Forsaken. "If it were not for you, I would not be able to have properly been able to appreciate your Elf's predicament."

Edward knelt by the corpse, dipping his fingers in the gaping crack that Valzul had made with his axe in the Elf's skull. He straightened again before bringing his bloody hand to his mouth and licking each finger.

Valzul, his eyes never leaving Edward, bent to retrieve the axe he had lost earlier. "What be your problem? Dere's nothing' dat I owe you or anyone else."

"Owe?" Edward chewed the word, as though tasting it. "That is so very relative."

"I told ya before, Edwed. Walk away, but dis time don' come back."

"You're in no position to tell me anything, Troll," Edward's grin faded, his expression turning contemptuous. His emotions seemed exaggerated, as with someone who was inexperienced with managing them. "Especially as a fugitive."

Valzul lost his interest in words. He advanced on Edward's right side, watching as Azshana went to his left. She was still visibly shaken, yet her stiletto remained firmly in her grip.

Edward did not seem particularly perturbed that he was outnumbered. Rolling the hilt of his sword between his hands, a grin appeared on his face that had little to do with mirth. "Both of you? I was hoping to be able to gut each of you separately, and then afterwards that Tauren…"

Valzul's axe was a flash through the air, stopped only as Edward's sword intercepted it, sending its path awry.

"You'll need to do better than that," said Edward dryly. "Have you even fought in real combat before?"

A deep horn called through the forest in a resonating tone - far louder than the rolls of thunder. It was all too similar to the call made by the sentinel, and sounded dangerously close.

"Sentinels!" Azshana hissed. "They're responding to her call - they're coming-"

Valzul, heedless, lashed out again, deftly dodging Edward's counterattack after his strike was parried. Heat rushed into his head, adrenaline beginning to enter his bloodstream. Azshana moved to position herself behind Edward, but the Forsaken countered her by backing away, circling Valzul to keep himself from being caught between them.

"Valzul-" Azshana urged, looking fearfully into the forest.

He was only partially aware of Azshana, knowing in the back of his mind that they would be swarmed by sentinels at any moment, yet unwilling to leave Edward alive.

Seeing an opening, Valzul swung, this time striking the sword's guard. Edward, turning his weapon, managed to cut the Troll along the forearm before he could safely withdraw. His arm stinging, Valzul spat onto the ground.

"Valzul!"

Edward swung wildly to his right, warding off Azshana, whose dagger proved to be too short to become much of a threat. With Edward's side exposed, Valzul attacked with both axes. Edward, recovering, managed to deflect Valzul's left axe, but could not stop his right, which struck his deeply into his shoulder, cutting halfway through the bone. Edward groaned, raising his sword defensively as his damaged arm slouched.

The horn blew once more, as though trying to entice an answer. Valzul hesitated, realizing the horn's meaning, knowing that sentinels could emerge at any moment. He felt Azshana's hand on his arm, gently pulling, urging him.

Valzul's teeth clenched as he stared at Edward. The Forsaken's arm was limp, his guard weak, yet he stood there in challenge. A bit more time, and Edward would be finished.

However, there was no time. Edward, stepping off to the side, sensed it too.

"Next time I see you," Valzul said in a low voice. "I'm gonna bury you."

"Bury me?" Edward rasped, seeming amused. "That's already been tried."

Valzul followed Azshana through the forest, their feet splashing through the shallow swamps that were forming from the excess of water. Under the tree canopies, the rain gather on leaves and fell in great gobs on their heads. They slid through the foliage easily, Azshana evidently trying to take them away from the well-used paths that wound through the Ashenvale forest.

Valzul was not sure where they were going - and, after several minutes, he did not think Azshana knew either. They just seemed to press forward endlessly, the moon and stars too hidden to guide them, no significant landmarks that he recognized.

Behind them, he heard another, stronger horn call. Unlike the others, it carried a mournful tone, and Valzul suspected that the trailing Elves had finally found their companions in the forest. He wondered if they had caught Edward.

"Shana-" he whispered.

She did not reply, still running at full speed through the foliage. The wounds on Valzul's arm still bled freely, and he needed a moment to patch them properly.

Branches and twigs slapped him across the face as he leapt through a thicket after Azshana, who was now several paces ahead. Her agility and familiarity of the terrain gave her an advantage here, and it took everything he had simply to keep up.

The further they went, the more the land began to change. Thick, lush trees gave way knotted husks with decaying leaves that seemed to cling to the branches only out of desperation. Grass thinned and soon disappeared altogether, leaving only a carpet of dead leaves that crunched as he ran.

The rain had not yet slowed, and the footing remained treacherous as they ran. The wet leaves were mixed with mud, making the ground slick like ice. More than once he stumbled and nearly fell, recovering only at the last moment.

If they were not on the border of Ashenvale, they were near it, and Valzul's mind raced with ideas of where they possibly could be. Azshara was too far to the east, and Darkshore beyond Astranaar to the west. It had to be Felwood.

"Shana!" Valzul called again. Felwood was one of the last places he wanted to be in at this point. Even he had heard of the corruption that had seeped through the valley, strangling and twisting the life there into shadows of what they had been. Fel pools and demon camps peppered the landscape, making traveling hazardous - much less spending the night there.

He had nearly caught up with her when she stopped suddenly, seeming to be on the edge of some steep hill. Valzul, less than a step behind, slid through the mud, crashing into her back and sending both tumbling over the brink.

For a brief, flash of a moment, Valzul could see the White Lady resting on a bed of stars before falling downward, tumbling through water streams and smooth rock. He reached blindly for roots, branches - anything - to grab hold of as he rolled, yet nothing stopped or even slowed him.

Pain spiked like needles through random parts of his body. Between the dark and the rain, he saw no base of the hill.

Abruptly, the ground leveled, yet his body did not stop. He continued to roll violently, stopping only after hitting a jutting rock. The back of his head smashed against the hard surface, sending a shockwave of pain, dizzying him. His vision lacking focus, he turned his head to see Azshana laying motionless nearby. Far off, a flicking orange light warned him of a fire, or perhaps a torch. It was difficult to tell.

Looking up, seeing the rain fall unabatedly, was the last thing Valzul saw before losing consciousness.