The conservatory was an enormous, rounded glass-sided building the size of a warehouse that sat on the top floor of House Nethari. It was by far the most beautiful room in the house, given the state of everything. Part of the glass ceiling had been torn away to reveal the blue skies above, letting in a gentle breeze blowing through the entire room. The floors were covered in moss, vines, mushrooms, and other foliage of the outdoors, due to decades of nature getting in through the ceiling. Bright colored butterflies fluttered about from colorful flowers growing on vines. The only visible structure in the large airy room was a massive marble pillar laid impaled sideways in a large deep crater on granite floors, most likely the object that had crashed through the room causing the large opening in the ceiling. A small pond had formed over the years inside the crater around the slanted pillar in the middle of the room, filled with small frogs which could be seen under the murky waters darting about, catching smaller insects. Birds had perched throughout the crevasses of the room, calling to each other now and then with high pitched chirps.

Even after so much destruction, the Conservatory was filled with life now, the wilderness claiming that which had been neglected and making it her own. The way up to the conservatory had been cleared out by someone else, most likely Jassan, who had mentioned earlier he had come in to pilfer what remaining usable furniture there was up here, which left much of the floor bare. Tragique had no problem finding his way through the foliage and scanned the large room for the Huntmaster. After a few seconds of searching, he finally locked eyes with a pair of deep amber-colored eyes, which had been fixed on the Dreadlord possibly since he entered the room.

Brisa Arrowsong sat casually on one of the window sills, her long, braided copper hair shining brightly in the sunlight, draping down one side of her chest. Though she was just as beautiful as her younger sisters, there was something raw and wild about her visage. A faint scar marred her right cheek, which hadn't been there the last time he had seen her last - perhaps acquired sometime during the Four War. Unlike the twins, however, Brisa chose practical clothing when outside of battle. A tanned, fitted leather jerkin was worn over a simple, white, flowy cotton top, with snug leather pants and high leather boots. A slim dagger sheath was strapped onto the side of one boot. She had been whittling away at a long piece of wood with the thin dagger into something that could have been a flute.

Tragique took a few more steps toward Brisa, when the huntress suddenly whispered a soft command, "Tama, to me." She said this, not to Tragique, but somewhere past where he was standing. He turned to glance over his right shoulder at a large beast that had appeared from somewhere out of the shadows of the marble pillar in the middle of the room. How? He didn't even sense it when he entered the room. The large beast, Tama, was an enormous Pantera, a graceful cat-like animal found on the broken Draenei world of Argus. Its deep purple and black fur glowed with unnatural light, and long, feathery, iridescent fins crowned its head and down its spine. Tama's massive head stood at about his shoulders height, huge paws silently pawed past him, never taking its glowing violet eyes off Tragique. A deep, guttural sound purred from somewhere within the striking Pantera as it made its way towards the window and gently laid down where Brisa had been perched.

Judging it safe to approach, the Dreadlord moved in closer to where she sat. Brisa stopped carving and gazed out her window, onto the stretches of Sunstrider Isle, located directly northwest of their current location.

"Well, I'm here," said Brisa, her voice somehow tired and forgone. "I didn't think I'd come but..."

"Your reasons matter not, cousin," interrupted Tragique. "What matters is that you're here now. It's all I could really care about right now."

"Straight to the point, as usual," sighed Brisa. She turned towards Tragique and said, "were you always this cold?"

"Were you always this distant?" he replied. She turned to face him and forced a slight smile.

"I've given it thought, even after everything that's happened," Brisa said. Tragique said nothing, his skeletal adorned faceplate giving away nothing to his reactions, save two glowing eye-holes in the helm, their eerie chilling light stared back at her with impasse.

After a few moments, she continued, "No matter how many times I've replayed all my actions during these last few years, I don't think I have the right to help the Horde again-I'm here, but I don't know what I'm doing here." Her amber eyes searched for something outside the room, desperation creeping across her face.

"Not for the Horde, cousin. For Azeroth. For our world. The banshee betrayed us all, Brisa. You know this more than anyone," said Tragique gently. "It takes great courage and bravery to face all odds and be loyal to your cause..."

"And where has that loyalty brought me to?" replied Brisa, her voice now angry, a sadness looming over her pointed face. "Look at me- a fugitive of the Horde I've sworn to defend. A betrayer of our people. I was loyal to Sylvanas Windrunner until the day she showed who she truly was. Because of my loyalty, I've betrayed what truly mattered. The Horde, my friends, my own family," she shouted, "All because of my loyalty." She spat this last part. She held his gaze for a moment, feral anger burning in her eyes.

A bitter silence followed Brisa's sudden outburst, in which she turned back to look out the window. Choosing his words more carefully, Tragique said, "I know you did what you felt was right at the time. Your heart is broken, that much is plain to see. But your family is here now, Brisa. They stand with you now, even after everything that's happened. Your sisters and your brother are downstairs right now, waiting on you. They still look up to you. They look up to your leadership because you know what it means to have remorse."

The sound of wings fluttering out one of the open windows broke the silence. Colorful birds danced across the window and flew away from the Conservatory. After calming down, Brisa responded softly, a waver in her voice, "I can still hear the screams at night and smell the burning of trees. The nightmares don't ever stop." She looked back at Tragique again, her eyes haunted by something buried deep in her memories. "I was there, cousin. I helped her do it. Without question. I stood on the bloodied shores of Darkshore and watched Teldrassil burn alive, and all the innocents with it."

Tragique knew all about what the former Horde Warchief had compelled many of her loyalists to do during the thick of the Fourth War. There were many of the Horde who did not want to participate in her actions, but Sylvanas Windrunner managed to spell many of her followers into decimating the entire city of Teldrassil, the home of the Night Elf nation- an action condemned unanimously by the current Horde leadership. Even in war times, mass genocide was not something many resorted to. Brisa had been through much, deciding to side with the former Warchief. Brisa was a soldier and followed orders. But like many of the Banshee Queen's loyalists, Brisa followed them blindly. This was around the time Aeri, Runa, and Jassan had distanced themselves from Brisa, as she was becoming someone different around them. Someone that was not their eldest sister. Brisa Arrowsong had become a puppet, and when the Banshee Queen left, she threw away her followers as they were broken playthings.

The once-grand huntress that Tragique had known was but a shell of her former self. But, he thought, she still chose to arrive today. That meant that some part of her sought some form of redemption. She still had some will to fight, and that was all Tragique could ask for. It was not his place to offer consolation or to judge her.

"If you still wish to fight while find redemption for the dead, I can think of no greater quest than the one I have to offer you. Come downstairs to join us, Arrowsong. I will go over all the details with you and the others, should you choose to accept," said Tragique in his usual terse manner, then abruptly turned around and headed back downstairs.

After a few minutes passed to mull over his words, Brisa took one last look at Sunstrider Isle and took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, as if releasing one of her arrows. She to a moment to reflect on her time as a child, training on Sunstrider Isle, her instructors always reminding her to 'breathe' as she let loose arrow after arrow at her practice targets. But breathing was a lot more difficult when she was holding on to so much.

Nonetheless, she slipped the thin dagger into its sheath on her boot, pocketed the unfinished wooden flute carving, and silently hopped off the window sill. She rested a hand on Tama's great head, the Pantera purring softly with her touch, and together, they descended down the stairs together, leaving the glass conservatory back in the hands of nature.