reality deviant: On someone becoming a new qiraji queen, let's not jump the gun here. I've got plans around that subject, but way later. :) The figurative Black Widow, if we were playing a categorization game here, is Genveera, who was introduced already in Thomas' chapter. She's also called "the Swan." Finally, on the upgraded warlock demons, I've already began considering it. This story was started before Mists was released and before I heard anything on it, but already I'm thinking of how I might add in the Klaxxi (a third faction of old god minions, like the qiraji and nerubians, found in the Dread Wastes on Pandaria). I've considered Sin having other demons, but lore-wise, warlocks get them through the "Grimoire of Supremacy," which was administered to trainee's following the Cataclysm. In Stormwind, there's a book on a table across from the warlock trainers at the moment that describes this. The idea lays on the backburner for now.

Note: In game and lore, the only references to qiraji reproduction are breeding grounds within Ahn'qiraj and the hive. That I've seen, this is only shown once, just above Buru the Gorger, there is a massive, stationary silithid that is laying eggs – and, strangely, we never actually kill this figure. According to the Prophecy of C'Thun, the old god had made qiraji from the silithid, so what he did for their reproduction is up to question. I deemed it C'Thun entitling these queens to lay eggs, which can be silithid or qiraji. That is the "Queen" or "Mother" I've been referring to in Sin's chapters.


Chapter 4

The Storm


X Fallen X

"Elune blind him! Blind them all!" Linsai roared. "Send out every owl we have! Abandon southern Silithus! All riders to the Bones of Grakkarond! We harry them to the choke!"

"But the bandits-"

"Forget them! Their mission is escape, not assistance! Trust in Sentinel Narelle!"

The sandstorm raged strong and true. Winds kicked sand into walls and chipped away inches of stone, rounding edges and flattening impressions. One sand worm tried burrowing quickly, too late in its last catch of food, but a gust of wind sheered away a hole in its flank and spilled dark blood – vanishing in the storm before it even touched the ground. A second gust cut away to the bone, leaving the worm writhing fiercely, head still tucked safely under, before the relentless winds sawed away the rest of its flesh. Though the white spine still whipped and flailed about in the wind, it died unnoticed.

The sounds of deep, gruff panting and the trample of heavy feet were the only signs of movement in Ahn'Qiraj. The qiraji barreled out of gates unobstructed in a densely packed mass of Gladiators. Hundreds of the hulking muscle-bound behemoths remained for the rush. At the center of the pack was the massive queen, bright in her oranges and blues for carapace, carried by a band of stronger worker silithid. Flanking her were two Prophets, standing tall and proud and skittering forward at good pace with the rest of the warriors.

More had accompanied them for the heavy arm of the hammer. A dozen Battleguards buzzed forward, leading fifty more silithid in the skies for cover, while beetles, battle tanks, and the remaining army of workers filled any gap they could. The wind was soaked unnoticed by the Gladiators, protecting those behind them. Though the Battleguards flew low, they were knocked back and forth with each gust. Armor and thick cloaks covered all of their bodies now, but one particular sand-laced gust punctured enough holes in a silithid's wings to sent it wheeling into the sand, left to die alone.

Watching from a bluff was a single night elf, grim. So the warning of Sin de Rath the Mad came to pass. Elune forbid the rest be true, that a third old god had surfaced, so soon after the defeat of Yogg'Saron and C'Thun. One was enough for any lifetime.

With his thick cloak wrapped tightly around him, the night elf turned away and shuffled to his supplies. The storm made it difficult to search through, but he soon found a white, opaque crystal and activated the magic within. Immediately, a purple light grew within it, and all of its sibling crystals. The message had been sent:

The qiraji were on the move.

XxX

"Report! What is the news of the east? Have our preparations finished for the pincer when they pass through?" Commander Linsai demanded, his back to the fury of the sandstorm.

The messenger sucked in a breath, still exhausted from his run through the storm, and gasped out, "Commander, our defenses have been smashed apart and sent in retreat to the choke below Staghelm Point."

The purple skinned elf showed no signs of his fury beyond the tightening grip of his fist. The pop of knuckles was lost in the howling wind. "Explain."

"Our team at Southwind was ambushed by skeletons and ghosts, the work of Sin de Rath no doubt, and they raised racket to summon the silithid from under the feet of the village. It was flee or be destroyed. Worse, sir, scouts picked up qiraji Battleguards swarming around the Swarming Pillar, and they've banded together a large force of silithid to rally with those at Southwind."

Sin de Rath... Linsai sent the messenger away for rest, then faced the storm once again with the predatory eyes of a hawk. Again and again their preparations were being picked apart by the very one who issued their ordering. The choke would not fail nor their walls fall, but the battle will now be far more difficult without the traps beforehand. And this army of silithid under the madman's qiraji – is this his moment of betrayal? Will they band together for a hammer larger than anything seen since the war itself?

Abruptly, his gold eyes widened as he noticed something among the sands. A moving shape, hidden by more than just the storm but by a simple spell of camouflage. It stopped in the midst of the town's remaining Watchers and faced him. It took but a moment to realize: Sin de Rath, and he was watching him.

Linsai was about to scream orders to seize the warlock, but he knew it would get lost in the howling winds. The warlock seemed to know that too, boldly letting himself be seen in this challenge. Their stare held for a heavy moment, another, and in an especially thick gust of dust and sand, the cloaked figure vanished entirely, like a ghost.

Sin de Rath...

"Look you fly-winged slattern, this isn't in my job description," Handon growled. His white bones rattled at the constant pelting of the sands, though the undead magic that kept him alive protected them from further wear. Around him and his band of skeletons were a couple scores of silithid, shuffling about and huddling through the storm, while the Battleguards remained in the center with him.

The bug-eyed freak looked to him without any emotion, unnerving as they were, and she hissed in their rattling, shrieking voices, "You're work is done, no-flesh. You will follow Nzeeka in returning to Sin de Rath. My sister will maintain ambush before following."

That took some of the tension out of his fuzed spine. He'd be getting the hell out of here with the bugs and Specter; they were genuine, just as had Darnin promised. He left his cleaver sheathed, saying, "Let's be off then."

The undead and Battleguards departed, leaving behind a single qiraji Battleguard with the silithid. She waited patiently among the storm, huddled with the rest but watching the south. The workers reacted at the first sensations through the ground, sending alarm through the rest of the silithid, and the Battleguard straightened, tightening the psychic chains around the siblings around her.

Before she could even see the attackers, the mental strikes of the Fathers laced into her mind and control over the silithid. The All-Mind easily deflected the attacks, keeping her purpose narrow, and the silithid remained bound to it. For a few short minutes they remained still, waiting out the mental attacks, and then the first drone saw the approaching charge.

The silithid, buried partially under the sand, waited until the Brothers and the rest were close, and then the Battleguard gave the command to attack. They burrowed out the sand in great rushes, leaving behind sink holes and sand-traps, and in seconds, a shrieking and roaring battle erupted and the charge ground to an impromptu halt.

Satisfied, the Battleguard tied up the control over her silithid like knotting rope and followed her sisters north.

"Where are our Outriders? They should have abandoned their policing the south half a day ago." Linsai was weary now. It had been three days since he had seen a bed, and half that since he had even left the command room and watch tower. The Gladiators had left Ahn'qiraj twenty hours ago and were presently at the half way mark, between Southwind and the Swarming Pillar, where Sin de Rath's qiraji had gathered the last of the desert's silithid in wait.

The desert was large and the escape slow, leaving the stress of it a persistent thing that seemed to be adding wrinkles each hour. Between the bandits, qiraji, and silithid, there were perhaps a thousand enemies in motion total, and he had an equal number of Watchers at the choke waiting. Against his trained men, even united the enemy had no chance, but he could not rest until it was done.

At worst, in two days hippogryph riders from Feathermoon would arrive to assist in the defense and the tracking/elimination of any mobile threats.

Just then, a messenger broke into their council, still panting and painted with dust. About damned time. "Commander, news from the east! The silithid gathered by Sin de Rath are attacking the fleeing Gladiators, and the escape has been halted! Also!" The man gasped a few more breaths, looking about to faint. "Also, we've spotted our Outriders! The bandits had ambushed them after they were ordered to Grakkarond, and now they've let our men go to... to join the battle!"

"So I'm sure you boys and girls want some intel," Darnin hollered over the storm. His face was veiled apart from two slits for the eyes, as the sandstorm was still unrelenting. He remembered in part that the wind stones they had once tried mining had much to do with the intensity and length of Silithus' storms.

Before him were twenty night elf Watchers and their tiger mounts, freed from any restraints and sharpening their weapons. The elves were kept trained on by bows and readied swords, with Darnin and Jern standing the closest, to speak to them.

"About two hundred yards that way is a massive battle between silithid and your runaway qiraji, if our guys have done everything right. You'd do well to keep your distance and harry as you were ordered. If you are feeling fond of being foolish, you can chase after us, but remember that even though we desire freedom from here, we don't want those qiraji getting out either! Good luck, you purple-skinned bastards!"

The Watchers sheathed their weapons and mounted up immediately, the tigers shaking some of the dust and sand out of their fur. The saddles had to be killer with all the sand trapped under them. The one that led them nodded at the two bandit leaders, saying, "The Wind of the North and the Storm of the South. Your outmaneuvering of us will not be forgotten, no matter the end here. If only we had you to lead us in times of peril."

"Get moving, you sentimental long-eared buffoon!" Jern bellowed, "Before the qiraji finish feasting on those silithid's bodies!"

The night elf nodded, snapping his tiger into action. "Riders, move out!" They turned and pounced in the direction of the battle. The bandit's bows did not lower until sight of the riders were lost in the storm.

"So the Specter has given us a few hours time before the storm starts again! Let's the get hell out of here!" Darnin shouted to Jern, and both men turned to begin moving north.

The men scrambled to ready themselves, but as they did, Jern began searching wildly. "Where the fuck are the Battleguards?"

Darnin searched too, finding only bandits around them. He cursed loudly, mentioning, "Assume the worse! Let's get back to Miko, before they have a chance to turn on us!"

Banded together, both men and their followers began running through the storm. They moved slowly but surely, hardened by the desert to survive through the intense conditions. However, they had barely mounted the first sand dune out of their hole before Darnin stopped Jern with his hand. He pointed out into the swirling winds.

At the edge of the next dune, a huddle of a dozen lithe shapes could be seen. The qiraji Battleguards were there, waiting, and they gestured the bandits to hurry on. The two men shared a look, then quickened forward.

XxX

The beast was nearly blind.

The sandstorm had been a surprising help, but even so Sin's plan had progressed marvelously. Apparently the Watchers had lost sight of Handon's undead early on, and the ambush at Southwind Village had been a great success. The south Watch had spread itself thin in the chasing of ghosts from Jern and Darnin, and when the orders came to retreat, they had even managed to capture the Outriders to use their own way.

In the north, Sin and Miko's men had hit the northern Watches. They razed outposts, snake holes, and sent the Watching elves running off into the sand naked to regroup and resupply, leaving the area nearly entirely free from view. Sin was the largest contributor there, lurking among the storm himself to ambush the elves. He knew that if he had Miko doing it, there would be no survivors.

Specter of the Sands had been his nickname among the cultists during the war, from the way he moved and attacked, then was gone without a trace. The night elves, finding themselves in the same predicament, now labeled him Ghost in the kaldorei tongue. It had since spread to Common in their reports of him, always with "Sinde Rath the Mad."

The proper writing of a sand-dweller's name was "Sin de'Rath the Mad," the fools. Alas...

Everything was moving according to his designs. Handon had just returned, meaning the others would be just behind, to arrive in the hour. Miko had the bandits gathering their supplies ready for carry on the surface, while Sin was meant to be gathering the Battleguards for the final travel from inside the hive. He had carefully withdrawn all of the other Battleguards inside too, with Nzeeka outside to take in the final few from the bandit's coming.

Just then, there was the telltale roar of many Battleguards in travel from the organic tunnels of the hive. Sin stood to his feet in a swirl of shifting colors, and idly he checked inside his cloak for the object at his waist. It was clear and contained still. Nzeeka and the other Battleguards swarmed inside the chamber, joining the rest of the qiraji, and they settled to their feet to ease up the noise.

With a smile, Sin handed Sekara his pack for carry, adding, "Take good care of that, darlin'. Its contents are more valuable than anyone knows."

She held it between the nubs of her arms, nodding quickly. She wore no helmet or veil now, the only among the others. "Yeh'ess," she hissed.

Finally, Sin scooped up his worn staff and began to make his way out. The Battleguards would follow him in a few minutes, when he was through with arranging the bandits.

Sin ascended from the hive to see the scores of bandits waiting for him. Every man and woman, in their dirty rags and patched armor, stared at him with solemn silence in the midst of the dying sandstorm. At the forefront stood Miko with Jern and Darnin, and behind Darnin was Handon, his right-hand man.

Strangely, Sin's mind felt lighter, emptier, as if in a dream. Not the trance of before, but things had a blunted quality to it. He moved with the flow of the moment, watching it really; it felt like he was in the high of an opiate. He was speaking now.

"You have done well, and the time of escape is nigh. Suppose two hours before the qiraji hit the wall. Our route is a three hour march at a moderate walk, so by moving quickly, we can watch the start of the show, the movement of the Watchers as they fix their gaze upon the qiraji, then move north around them through the mountain paths, into the luscious lands of Un'Goro. Between two hundred hardened desert-dwellers and one hundred agile Battleguards, the final wall will stand no chance against our..."

He trailed off, nearly intentionally, as the scene shifted moods when every bandit drew their weapons, still facing him. Sin had half a mind to continue watching the progression of his theater play, but he quickly resumed complete control of his body and actions, thrusting himself into the present predicament.

Jern, however, turned to look, frown furrowing deep lines in his sun-blasted face beneath his beard. "Miko, you filth-blooded leech, what have you done?"

The hooded upstart stepped forward, arms spreading out in grand gesture, as bandits from behind sprinted forward to encircle Sin. Reluctantly, Darnin and Handon followed him. "Do not think that through our temporary alliance, we have forgotten who you are, Specter, nor what you have done to us. In the south, Darnin watched you flay the skin off of the previous chief, just to flaunt off your power and intimidate us. In the north too, Jern here sent valued friends to infiltrate the elves, and it was you who ferreted them out and spilled their blood into the sands. My sister was one of them, and you cut out her throat."

At blade point now, Sin let them rip away his staff, the black trails of smoke vanishing from the green crystal tip with a puff. He refused raising his hands in surrender, nor did he show any concern at the predicament. Miko noticed, throwing aside his veil and sneering. "You think those qiraji whores will rescue you now? We no longer have need for you and your plans; the way through the desert is clear now, thanks to you. Behold!"

Sin followed the path of Miko's finger to see a dwarf near the hive, and the stout man pressed down on pump-ignition. Shortly after, there followed explosions from deep within the hive, seen with great plumes of smoke and organic debris. Unflinching when the gunk was vomited from the cave mouth over him and his captors, Sin watched the entrance and tunnels collapse into themselves, trapping the Battleguards underground.

"You're a rotten fool, Miko," Jern groaned, but he made no action or order to oppose the change of events. He knew which hand held the cards presently. "And you, Darnin, for following through with this."

The wiry and leathery man did not give reaction to the accusation, still watching Miko and Sin through the storm, still veiled with slits for eyes. Miko commanded that Sin's warlock staff be snapped in half, and it did with a tremendous crack, spitting lightning into the sands around the undead girl that did it. White veins of glass were left in the wake, quickly covered by the ongoing winds.

Victoriously, Miko continued, crying over the winds, "And now the time for our vengeance is at hand, Sin de Rath the Mad. Enjoy the cold hand of the void!"

Half of bandits swung back, ready to skewer Sin all at once. His hand jumped inside his cloak, taking a step back in the stance his father had beat into his skull, but even as he drew it, he noticed the odd movements of the other half of bandits. They turned upon their comrades, gutting them clean through without hesitation, just as Sin's aged six-shooter trained on Miko.

The young leader's eyes widened at the turn of events as abruptly many of the bandits betrayed their brothers and sisters and cut them down without remorse. Handon and Jern seemed equally surprised, and their respective followers drew arms and aimed them at the other groups suspiciously.

By then, the treachery was revealed to fall in Darnin's hands. In two swift motions he took Miko's legs from under him and held him at knife point. Precise motions, striking quick as a rattler. The cunning man glanced up at Sin and the pistol, seeming to smile with just his eyes over the veil. "I see that perhaps my intervention wasn't necessary at all. I have underestimated you once again."

Sin shrugged but kept the weapon aimed. "I didn't exactly hold the upper hand either way, with just this bottle-blaster."

"Traitor!" Miko hissed. "You know what he is hiding. You know what is to come. He will-" Darnin cut him off, in the literal manner. It took only a matter of seconds before the former cultist quit thrashing, spilling his blood onto the sands.

While cleaning off his knife, Darnin said, "Forgive the brief interruption, Specter. My men will begin excavating the qiraji from the tunnels immediately." He gestured the bloodied bandits still surrounding Sin to retreat back.

"Spare yourself the effort," Sin told him, finally lowering his gun. With two fingers in his mouth, he unleashed a shrill whistle, then admitted, "I had anticipated yours and Miko's betrayal long ago. I did not foresee that you would in turn betray Miko instead."

"Can someone explain what in the Night's fucking name is going on here? Are we following the Specter or are we killing him, Darnin?" Handon interrupted finally, stomping through the sand with his cleaver drawn. "Cause I'm fine either way, but you need to talk to me."

"We will be following," Darnin replied slowly. "Forgive me, for I hadn't decided either way until we just arrived here. Miko never moved past the mindset of the Twilight's Hammer, simply fixed to the past. It is clear now, for better or worse, that our future lies in this man."

From the side, leaning against his staff now, Jern hummed loudly. To Sin, he asked, "Will you trust someone who keeps such fickle loyalty?"

The Battleguards, in response to the whistle, finally began drifting out of the hive, from the secret passage that they'd constructed over the last few days. The army of them hovered behind Sin now, to the view of all the desert-weary bandits, and Sin held himself confidently before them. Sekara stopped beside him, offering his bag back.

Sin accepted it, nodding. "That just keeps things exciting. Come on now, we move south-east."

Jern straightened, and he scratched his beard, left uncovered by the beige bandana tied over his hair. "So the plan wasn't to take the mountain paths north of Staghelm?"

Sin barked a laugh as he rummaged through his bag. "With how obvious we've been broadcasting it? No, the elves have fortified it as heavily as a goblin bank. That was to be my last laugh if Miko won out here. The path is clear at the rim of the world, just north of Southwind Village. We must hurry though, before the storm is finished." His hand found it finally, and he withdrew a long, black staff from the bag.

Burning, oily corruption writhed under his fingertips as they held the black lacquered wood. This staff was powerful, more so than his wizarding one that Miko had snapped. He let the butt tap the sand, and a thrum of dark magic reverberated through the ground, noticeable only by those attuned to such matters. He exhaled grey smoke, lost by the others in the swirling sands, as his body adjusted finally to the magic of his mother's war staff.

Confident smirk in place, Sin de Rath the Mad led the bandits onward.

XxX

(Font informal, scrawled in haste)

Sentinel Narelle Blackmoon,

Orders: Do what you feel is best, in your own judgment.

-Commander Linsai Scarleaf

Narelle tore up the missive angrily.

XxX

Victory was in sight as Sin began to climb the final sand dune. The land was in total chaos, between the sandstorm, the scattered watchers, the final collision of the hammer and anvil, and now also the lack of presence of them at the northern checkpoint. They had marched mostly along the road, moving quick as they could and trusting in both Sin's judgment and the scouting Battleguards to remain hidden. They reached their destination in roughly two hours, passing within a mile close of the Gladiator horde during interception, and arrived at the same time they met the elves.

On the climb though, with the winds strong but no longer kicking sands and the sky clear in the distance, Sin's eyes noticed something in wait at the top of the bluff. Just behind that sand dune was the rocky freedom of a hard climb down into Un'Goro, with the traversable path unknown to most.

"The elves are waiting atop there," Jern growled in his gruff voice, and he sounded ready to bite stone or draw arms. Sin couldn't tell which.

"Just one," he replied, shooting Darnin a look as he drew two hooked, makeshift daggers. "And she cannot stop us. Let me speak with her first."

Though the Battleguards were quick to try and follow, Sin commanded them back, rising the rest himself. He saw what he expected: not a sentinel, as was her position, but a warden, with her cloak switched from forest green to desert tan, still imbued with a camouflage spell much like his own cloak. She held a bow at full draw, trained at his heart even at three paces away, and he could see the green liquid dripping from its end.

When they were face to face finally, he could see her arm shaking with strain – the bow had been held in that position for minutes now, as she fought within her own mind for a decision. She accused, in a voice accented with the sweet lullaby of the elven tongue, "You knew... that I had been assigned to Watch you. You used me to displace those that would stop you from leaving." Her arm continued shaking, until her voice firmed and she announced, "You may not leave the desert with the qiraji or cultists."

Sin smiled at her, standing neutrally and with as little threat as he could manage. His black staff was vertical, grounded like the goblin rods did to lightning. "Sentinel Narelle Blackmoon. We meet at last, since I first noticed you following us to Hive'Zora... Indeed, I did use you. Otherwise, we would need to escape through force, and I could not ensure that no lives would be lost needlessly. However, you know now that you cannot stop us from leaving."

"Perhaps I cannot, but I can still kill you and more than a score of them, which is enough to leave you scattered and leaderless until Commander Linsai's hyppogryph riders track the rest down." Sin's lips twitched into a wider smile. "But tell me, are you sincere about the old god in the north? Has such an abomination truly risen, without warning or safe-guards?"

"Yes. And after consultation with the qiraji about the internal positioning, we have theorized it has stationed in Northrend, perhaps even at the tomb of its brother."

"And do you seek to join it? Or would you fight it?"

"If I can find somewhere safe for the Battleguards and fulfill my promise, then I would fight it. I'm sure you have heard about the state of my mind at the present, but I believe that with only a few more weeks recovery, I should manage solid shields again."

Narelle eased the tension from her bow, lowering its aim. She said sternly, "I have long since learned to detect truth from lies in direct confrontation. You, Sin de Rath, have fallen, but not from the side of good. If you must persist, if you must ferry these creatures of the old god out of their prison back into the world, then I will continue my duty as Watcher and accompany you. To lend advice, if you seek my counsel... and if I must, to end your threat if you fall."

Sin nodded, agreeable. "I accept you gladly. However, you are not to know where the qiraji finally settle, if I find such a place. It takes only the information in the wrong hands, no matter the argument, before your brothers and sisters come tearing down the walls and slaying them down to the last."

The hawk-eyed warden gave no reaction to the condition. "We will discuss the subject if it becomes relevant."

After a quick, pensive consideration, Sin nodded again, and he turned to wave forward the two hundred men waiting on the sand dune. He noticed the view though, of the endless sands of Silithus stretched before him, masked by the remaining clouds of dust from the storm. Only Narelle would see their escape, at least for the next hour. Viewing the desert from its very edge though also had a significant symbolic meaning; they were on the cusp of escape, after all the micro-scheming and managing.

Sin knew Narelle's attention was on his back as he continued staring at the desert, but he couldn't be shaken, mind falling into stupid trances once again. He began to wonder again how he might have fared without the bandits. They would be down many supplies, including tents and food, though they hadn't done much sleeping on the sand yet, and Un'Goro was warm enough without. They still lacked medicine. Without the bandits, the Outriders would have been fixed on their ass like Narelle had been, likely making this final confrontation a match of blood. Even with the war and storm, blinding the Watch would have been a difficult task, same with making time to ambush the Gladiators with silithid and razing snake holes.

Their speed would have been up though, dealing with only qiraji fliers and Sin on his felsteed.

Jern and Darnin reached the top first, staring at the warden suspiciously. When Handon followed, dragging his bleached bones up the dune, he declared, "Hell's Bells, why is one of their kind here?" If it hadn't been known he was from Lordaeron before then, that curse was specific enough.

"Men, this is Sentinel Narelle. You have no need to worry; she is here only as a precaution for me, in the unfortunate case that I lose a contest of wills against something nasty," Sin told them, noticing that her silver eyes within the mask never left his visage. "Our escape proceeds accordingly."

The future had become something very rough and bleak, Sin recognized. In the last two weeks, he had lost the thing most precious to himself: his control. And in its place, he'd gained the malevolent army of C'Thun, the Twilight Hammer cultists-turned-bandit, and a skilled warden who's only mission was to kill him if he slipped. All the while, an old god had arrived on the planet, sure to plunge the order of everything into complete chaos.

As they watched the bandits and Battleguards begin descending the trail to Un'Goro's surface, Sin's fingers tightened their hold over his mother's black staff. That he was even using the heirloom told of the danger of the present. Worse, he knew the questions to be bubbling on the minds of the quick witted Darnin and Jern, adding together the sudden push of the Gladiators, the Specter's turn in favor of the qiraji, and now the need for a precaution in case he lost his will.

They knew something was happening out in the world, not dissimilar to when they had worked to free C'Thun. Their questions would come soon enough, unless Sin managed to split from them at the jungle floor.

Their cloaks danced in the dusty wind, with his and Narelle's trying to distort the light and camouflage them. Such was the team that would stand against the tides of fate.