Author's Note:

First things first: I apologize that y'all have waited so long and this is just a filler chapter. There needed to be a bridge between the last chapter and the next. More thoughts and news at the bottom! I hope you guys enjoy :)

Illidan stared into Tyrande's eyes, marveling at the fact that she was alive—though clearly not doing well. He fought to collect his thoughts and form a coherent sentence that would not give him away in the presence of Varo'then. Much to the priestess' credit, she schooled her expression much sooner than Illidan himself, dropping her argent gaze to the dirt-ridden, stone ground beneath her knees. To anyone other than Illidan, she would appear the very definition of a hopeless, broken prisoner.

If he was to maintain his thus short-lived cover, he needed to do as Varo'then asked, regardless of his personal feelings on the matter. His brother, his twin, had been the only other time he'd managed to interrogate someone by probing their mind. It . . . hadn't gone well. He hoped he could soften the sharp, invasive pain of the experience as much as possible this time around—for Tyrande's sake.

From beside him, Varo'then shuffled, his cape swishing through the stale dungeon air. "Well, sorcerer, can you do it?"

Illidan pressed his lips together, brows furrowing for a brief moment before he relaxed his face and looked at the Captain. "If you are asking whether or not I can look into the mind of another, see their thoughts and memories, then yes, I can. If you are asking if I will be successful . . . I cannot tell you that until I attempt it."

"Very well, then. Get to work!" Varo'then snapped, brushing past Illidan to head back up the steps. "When are you finished, send one of the guards to come and get me. I wish to see your progress."

Though the Captain didn't look back at him again, Illidan inclined his head nonetheless, wishing to appear the very picture of acquiescence. Once the doors to the dungeon slammed shut with a resounding thud, Illidan looked back at Tyrande.

Her head remain bowed, her gaze flickering up to the single guard standing beside the door to her cell. Illidan followed her gaze, staring at the guard until the Highborne turned his way.

"Yes, sorcerer?"

"A moment, if you please?" Illidan said.

Immediately, the guard frowned. "I cannot leave you without supervision."

"I was not asking you to," Illidan replied with a shrug. "But with how powerful the magic required for the interrogation will be, I cannot guarantee that it will not affect you as well. For your safety, standing over there—" He pointed towards the stairs on the other end of the hall. "—may be in your best interest."

The guard's eyes narrowed, his hand gravitating towards the sword hilt at his waist. "None of the other sorcerers have ever made such a request."

Illidan quirked a brow. "And have any of the other sorcerers been successful in their endeavors?"

A moment passed as the guard considered Illidan's words, and then, eventually, he relaxed his arm. "A fair point. You've ten minutes before I come back to assess the situation."

Again, Illidan inclined his head. He watched as the guard walked away, his heavy, metal boots clanking against the dungeon floor. When the guard reached the steps and about-faced, staring ahead at the wall in front of him, Illidan turned back to Tyrande once more.

"We're alone," he murmured, and she finally looked up at him.

Once again, he was struck by how disheveled she appeared. In addition to the mangled mess of hair that had once been beautiful, silken strands, her eyes were dull—their glow lessened with pain and likely hunger. There were deep, expansive circles under her eyes, and her cheeks were sunken. It had only been a few days since she'd been taken, and he wondered what exactly the other sorcerers had done to make her condition spiral so quickly.

She opened her mouth to speak, but let out a quiet groan and closed it once more. Shifting her weight from one leg to the other, she sat fully on the ground and looked back up at him again. "What are you doing here, Illidan?"

Her tone was scornful, as if she already had conceived notions about his presence in the palace. Anger flared within him at her assumption, but he pressed his lips into a thin line as he fought to control his own reaction. Crossing his arms, he glanced over at the guard. In a low voice, he said, "It is a long story, but . . . I have a plan."

"Elune help us, your plans rarely go as intended."

A surge of hope replaced his previous anger. If she was feeling well enough to poke fun at him, perhaps her condition appeared worse than it actually was. "That is true, but I am hoping this time 'round, luck will be on my side."

"What exactly is this plan?" she asked, rolling her shoulder. Manacles encircled her wrists, chained to the wall behind her. The position looked extremely uncomfortable, and he wished that there was something he could do to alleviate her pain. With the guard standing watch, though, he couldn't risk it.

Illidan dropped his arms to his side again. "I cannot tell you that. If anyone else probes your mind after me, they'll discover what I've told you."

Tyrande held his gaze, her eyes searching his for the truth. After a tense moment, she said, "It is too high a risk, then."

His sole response was a single, near-imperceptible nod.

She shifted her weight, before offering a nod of her own. "I suppose it is better that it be you than another one of their . . . monstrosities."

A frown pulled at his lips, and he drew his brows together. Though he understood why the Queen's forces had chosen to interrogate Tyrande the way they had, it made him even more uncomfortable knowing that they'd violated her so. He'd been relatively safe at the camp, surrounded by his brethren, his brother . . . and Eliana. Yet here Tyrande had been, in a dank cell, tortured and pushed to her limits while he enjoyed comfort in a time of war.

"I suppose so," he murmured.

Before either of them had a chance to speak again, the guard called out to them. "Are you interrogating her or not, sorcerer?"

Irritated, Illidan pressed his shoulders back. "I was merely assessing the prisoner's condition, finding weaknesses. If you would feel less inclined to interrupt me so much, this would be going far better." The guard moved to reply as he reached for his weapon. Illidan jerked his head towards the bars before the guard could speak or act. "Besides, I cannot interrogate her without being in the cell. If you'd be so kind?"

The guard paused, his eyes narrowing. "You do not plan on doing anything untoward, do you?"

"Like what? Freeing the prisoner?" Illidan scoffed. "Don't be so obtuse. The faster you unlock the cell and let me in, the faster we can get this interrogation over with. I will even let you be the one to deliver the good news to Captain Varo'then, hm?"

The mention of his captain had the guard practically preening, and he ambled over to Illidan. Quickly, he pulled a ring of keys from his belt loop. A tiny, seemingly inconsequential key was eventually the one chosen, and the guard made quick work of the lock. Once he pushed the door open with a squeak, he stepped back. "Five minutes left, sorcerer."

"If you want a thorough interrogation, I'd advise you not to rush me."

The guard huffed, seemingly displeased at being told what to do by some lowly newcomer. Despite his obvious irritation, he returned to his previous spot along the far wall, glaring out of the corner of his eye at Illidan.

He stepped into the cell, the corner of his lips quirked upwards in amusement. Crouching down in front of Tyrande, his smile disappeared as his gaze flickered to the chains around her wrists once more.

"I am sorry, Tyrande. I wish there were more I could do about this," he murmured.

A slight shake of her head was her only response for the first few minutes, and he watched as her chest rose and fell. Eventually, she met his gaze with her own tired eyes. "I understand, Illidan. All I ask is that you make this less painful than those before you."

"I will try my best—I need something to give them, though. Something that will not threaten our own people. Something that is just enough to get their captain to trust me."

Tyrande's gaze shifted from left to right subconsciously as she thought. When she raised her eyes again, she licked her chapped lips and said, "The battle patterns. All of Ravencrest's warriors, all of the sorcerers. We all have tactics we follow, often times predictable. If you provide those to the Queen's inner circle, perhaps it will be enough to tide them over. Our people can always adapt."

Illidan frowned, resting his elbow on his thigh. "I suppose that may work. None of the previous sorcerers were able to get anything from you?"

"No," Tyrande said, her voice cracking. "I prayed to Elune to protect me. None of them have made it past the first . . . barrier—or so they called it."

A sigh escaped him. When she narrowed her eyes at his reaction, he turned his palm upright as he explained. "The first 'barrier' as you called it is the easiest to breach. Most sorcerers of even the slightest skill have little trouble peering into your mind, to hear surface thoughts. The first layer is similar to . . . showing emotion on your face. It's easy to find and decipher. It is forcing past that layer that takes more skill, more talent."

He paused, dropping his gaze to the ground. It felt like his chest was being compressed, his lungs tight with little ability to draw air. When he finally was able to take a deep breath, on his exhale, he added, "It is also more painful."

Tyrande's breath hitched in her throat. At first, she reeled back slightly, leaning away from him. The chains riveting her to the wall clanked in response, rippling as she shifted her weight. "More painful?" she whispered. "Than what they've done thus far?"

"They've likely pushed at that barrier," Illidan explained. "Obviously they were not able to break it, but the pain stems from their attempts, yes."

A moment passed, before she finally kneeled, resting her hands atop her thighs, palms down. She was the very picture of calm acquiescence, and he admired her bravery in the face of danger—in a way that was very different from the way he used to see her. "I . . . I trust you, Illidan."

An echo of a voice, saying a similar statement, flitted through his mind. He clamped down that train of thought, knowing he could not think of her now—not here, not when he needed to concentrate. "I thought you didn't trust me anymore?"

Tyrande met his gaze, unwaveringly. "I have no choice."

The door to the dungeons shut with a deafening echo that felt as if it were reverberating through Illidan's bones. His gaze remained locked on the extravagant, polished tiles beneath his boots as he made his way through the main hall. Where he was going, he wasn't entirely sure, but he knew he had to put distance between himself and Tyrande—to get away from what he had done.

She had known full well what was coming, what awaited her the moment his fingers threaded their way through the now-coarse strands of her hair. At one time in his life, he would've revelled in the contact, in the intimate touch. But this was something entirely different . . . a different time, a different feeling. He was different now.

Tyrande's face, twisted with the agonizing pain he knew she was feeling, flashed through his mind. He stumbled, fingers trailing on the wall beside him as he veered down a side hallway, away from the prying eyes of the guards lining the main hall.

He had been the cause of that pain.

It was one thing to break his enemies, to burn their flesh from their bones and obliterate them from this plane of existence. To hurt someone he'd once loved . . . still cared for, in a way . . . he felt sick, nausea roiling in the pit of his stomach.

Bracing both palms on the wall in front of him, he let his chin drop to his chest. As his eyes slid shut, he breathed in through his nose, trying to calm the torrential storm that raged within him. The sound of approaching footfalls had him bolting upright and fighting to school his expression. He pivoted on his heel as Captain Varo'then turned the corner, cape swishing in his wake.

"Sorcerer," the Captain boomed. "Any luck where the others have failed?"

Illidan straightened. "I've some luck, yes, though I'd prefer to chalk it up to skill. I managed to wring the Night Elven battle patterns from her, but I only broke through the first barrier. The rest will take more time."

"Battle patterns?" Varo'then raised a well-groomed brow, a physical indicator that Illidan found odd, considering the war that raged outside the capital's walls. "We could have easily gotten those from you, could we not?"

"I only know a single piece of the puzzle. With what I gained from her, we can form a more solid, complete image. Your soldiers can then act accordingly."

Varo'then's gaze lowered as he thought, seemingly processing Illidan's words. When he looked back up, his eyes were shrewd. "This is only marginally more than what the previous sorcerers have given me. If you expect to be of value here, you must provide the Legion with more information than this."

Panic flashed through Illidan, though he fought to control his expression. "It will take time to break her mind."

"Time is something you have little of."

Inclining his head, Illidan held his breath. "I understand, Captain."

"Go back. Get me something more worthwhile. When you have something of use, come to the Queen's chambers. I've another matter to attend to, but I expect an update after you progress further."

Again, he bowed. With a flourish of his cape, Varo'then turned and marched back down the hallway. When he disappeared around the bend, Illidan let out the breath he'd been holding in one big, long whoosh of air.

I do not normally pray, but Elune, if you can hear me . . . Tyrande and I both could use your help.

Back at the Night Elven encampment . . .

Pulling her now-damp shift tighter around her body, Eliana stumbled back to camp with tears brimming in her eyes. It was foolish to cry, for what would tears change? Tears would not bring Illidan back. Tears would not fix what he had done, would not reverse what she had lost.

Tears did little good for anyone these days, it seemed.

When she was finally safe within the perimeter, she brushed at the wetness rolling down her cheeks. Her tent was with the rest of the Sisterhood, on the far end of the encampment. It was well into day now, the sun shining down on the stillness below. Every single elf within the camp's limits was taking full advantage of this brief respite from the battle that normally waged beyond the trees.

She only wished that she, too, could enjoy the quiet and the calm.

Bare feet stumbling on the dirt, she avoided the violet tents that marked the Sisterhood, veering instead towards the soldier's tents. There was only one soldier on guard, posted at the very first plain, canvas tent. When he saw her approaching, he rose, offering a deep bow of respect.

"I—" Eliana broke off, hating how much her voice was trembling. "I need to see Cytheas. Please point me in the direction of his tent."

"Of course, High Priestess." The soldier pivoted, pointing to the east. "His tent resides in the third row, fourth from the center path to the left."

"Thank you." She did not even wait for his responding bow, hurrying down the dirt walkway and turning left as he'd instructed.

Even as she ran, her vision blurred with tears. Cursing at her propensity for feeling so deeply, she swiped at her cheeks again with more roughness than before. Her father used to always say she had a bigger heart than the world deserved, and it was in moments like this one that she hated how much she felt.

If she hadn't cared so much, after all, it would not hurt so much.

When she finally reached Cytheas' tent, her chest was trembling with stifled sobs. Not wanting to catch him off-guard, she slowly peeled back the entrance to his tent and slipped inside, pressing herself against the canvas. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she worked on slowing her frantic breaths. The sound of his breaths—slow, and even—filled the air, and she watched the steady rise and fall of his shoulders, curled towards the wall as he was.

It reminded her of all those days in the past, when the murky gray clouds filled with rain littered the sky above, and all they did was stay inside, watching the drops fall beyond the window. His presence, the familiar sound of his breathing, had always brought her comfort.

She knew it was not fair of her to ask Cytheas to comfort her. It never had been fair, on his part. All the times she'd watched Illidan pass them by, with love in her eyes and wistful sighs on the tip of her tongue, had never been fair to Cytheas. All the times she'd spoken of Illidan's achievements with pride, before she even knew him on a personal level, when he was simply a far-off dream that she never thought she'd attain, had never been fair to Cytheas.

Yet here she was, in the wake of Illidan's absence, staring at Cytheas in the hopes that he would comfort her. She hated how selfish she was, how much she always seemed to need one of them.

His breathing stuttered, and he rolled over with his eyes cracked open. When he saw her, when their eyes met, Eliana covered her mouth with her hand, trying to quiet the sounds of her tears. Immediately upon realizing that something was wrong, Cytheas shot upright in bed.

"Eliana, what is it? What's wrong?" Without waiting for her to respond, he threw off his covers, at her side before she could even catch her breath.

"I—Illidan, he—" She could not continue, instead shaking her head as she dropped her gaze to the ground.

"What about him?" Cytheas pushed, his touch warm as he gently laid a hand on her shoulder. "What has he done?"

She met his gaze again, her vision swimming as she finally embraced what she knew to be true. First, her father disappeared, and now, the one she loved had left. She found herself wondering whether it even mattered why, simply that he was gone.

Would this war ever cease to take everything from her? From all of them?

Inhaling deeply, she prayed to Elune for strength in the coming days, strength she knew she would need. On her exhale, though her voice trembled, she knew she had to speak the truth aloud—otherwise she could never move on.

"Illidan is gone."

AN:

Okay, really, though. I am sorry D: It's been MONTHS and everyone has been waiting so patiently, and all I managed to stitch together was a filler chapter. I've worked on this piece three different times over the span of ... well, since the last update to now. My final semester of college was way more hectic than I ever expected it to be, and I ended up starting a second job back in March to help with moving expenses. As such, my free time was practically nonexistent between the work demanded from my two classes, and my two jobs. However, graduation is in two weeks and I am so excited! That would normally spell good news in terms of free time, but that leads me to my next bit of news ...

I am moving down to Southern California for the summer! In an ironic and insane twist of fate, I accepted an offer for an internship at Blizzard! This is the third year I've applied for their summer internships, and I got the screening email back for a potential interview back in February. I was absolutely floored. Screening email turned into two interviews, turned into three, and then turned into an offer. I still feel like I'm dreaming most days, if I'm being honest! That being said, I'm unsure whether I can continue working on this story during the internship. Though I'm not on the writing team, I'll actually be working with as a Program Manager, I'm not sure whether there are rules concerning Blizzard IP and creative, unpaid content. I had to sign a bunch of non-compete forms, and since I'm not being paid to write fan fiction, I don't think that it would fall under that policy. However, I'd rather be safer than sorry, so until I know for sure, I won't be posting updates :( (although, the summer is only three months and that seems to be my update schedule anyway, so ... heh)

I will, however, continue writing for the story and just keep everything close until the end of the internship - or until I receive the go-ahead to work on it. So there is a light at the end of the tunnel! I'd love to hear from all of my readers, since it has been quite awhile, and I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter despite the absolute filler-ness of it!

I encourage y'all to follow me on Twitter (LILYisatig3r) and Instagram (h34rt1lly) if you want updates about the internship :) I'll be posting tons of stuff (whatever I'm allowed to anyway) during the summer! And as always, thanks to Arenoptara for beta-reading : 3