It is dark in the Spire, dark everywhere, and if Rommath were honest with himself it had been growing darker with every bloody foot they lost to Kael'thas on Quel'Danas. He sees Kael for what he is now, maddened, broken by the weight of the responsibility he'd tried to shoulder, but still dangerous, as he'd proven when Quel'Danas' last defense had crumbled against him. Rommath looked to Lor'themar, sitting next to him, his gaze far beyond the window in front of him, "You know what he'll do if he captures us alive," Rommath said, because he was afraid, and in the face of Lor'themar's serenity he was torn between being comforted and wanting to take him by the shoulders and shake him. Lor'themar turned then, his eye alight with something Rommath couldn't name, his scar chiseled deeper by the shadows, "You think I would yield Quel'Thalas onto him while I still live?" he asked quietly in return, with the surety of one who had faced death a thousand times in defense of what they held dear, and Rommath understood.
