I own Vician Trannyth, Itris Highbinder, Kaxet Botfuel, Ororan Lonesnarl, Elkemin Winddreamer, Uraz'Do, Tibarn Bonefever, Rili the succubus, Death Knight Borgan Van Talen, Shadow Priestess Victoria Painbinder, Lightslayer Hiro Tombweeper, the concept of the Society of Uncorrupted Warlocks, Zachery Lancaster, Taniel the incubus, Rose Oxworth, and Faith Nightreaper, all else to Blizz

A/N...

Warning: Near kiss, chanting, drama, and impending war

Borgan races out of the Royal Chamber, on the heels of Kalira. Sighing, he looks from left to right, not having seen where she went. He runs a hand through his brittle green hair as he turns towards one of the Royal Guards standing by the entrance. Before he can speak, however, the guard speaks up. "She went to his house, Death Knight."

Borgan blinks before slowly nodding his head, "Thank you." He turns and storms off into the Undercity heading towards Vician's hovel. When he arrives, he finds the door ajar. Carefully, he steps into Vician's house, pushing the door open gently. Inside, he finds Kalira sitting at Vician's desk, her head in her hands and her shoulders shaking. Looking about Vician's house, Borgan admires the cluttered chaos. Books and papers strewn about, yet everything seems to serve some purpose; from the narrow walkways formed haphazardly throughout the front room to the board of inter-connected lines and names along the back wall. Borgan really gets a sense of what it's like to be inside Vician's mind.

Focusing his eyes back on to Kalira, he tilts his head to the side, feeling the strong pull of empathy. He resists the urge to bound across the room, gather her in his arms, and let her weep onto his chest. Instead he stands straighter and coughs slightly to announce his presence.

Kalira pops her head up and locks eyes with Borgan. For just a moment their eyes lock and an entire conversation seems to take place between them; her eyes communicating helplessness and his communicating empathy. All too quickly, however, Kalira breaks eye contact and wipes the tears and smeared makeup from around her cheeks. "Oh, Borgan; I-I didn't hear you come in," Kalira stammers, her voice still muddied from her lingering sadness.

Borgan offers her a small smile, before gesturing to the chair on the other side of the desk. "May I?" When Kalira nods her head, Borgan carefully crosses the room and sits before her. He rests his hands on the desk and he bites his bottom lip gently. He knows the answer to his next question, but he asks it anyway. "Are you alright?"

Kalira blinks and wipes her eyes again, "Ye-yeah, I'm fine."

Borgan rolls his eyes and offers a wry smile, "Right. And Garrosh is made of sunshine and flowers." Kalira smiles lightly, her spirits lifting as she chuckles softly. Borgan chuckles alongside her, before growing serious again. "How are you really?" he asks again.

Sighing, Kalira looks away from Borgan before she turns back to him. "Honestly; not good." She buries her head in her hands again.

Borgan lifts one of his hands, reaching over to place it on her shoulder. He decides, however, it seems too forward and instead he brings it back down to rest on the desk again. "We'll find him," Borgan says, causing Kalira to glance up at him, "and we will awaken Sylvanas, the rest of the council be damned."

Kalira smiles and nods her head. She reaches out and rests her hand on top Borgans'. "Thank you."

Borgan smiles and nods his head, intertwining his fingers with hers, "Anytime."

Kalira sighs and looks down at their combined hand. Her mouth opens slightly and her eyes flick up towards Borgan. Borgan's eyes lock onto hers and his tilts his head slightly, this thumb rubbing along hers. The two of them stare at each other for the longest time, before Borgan pulls his hand away with great effort. "So, uh," he mutters, "Do you have any plans to awaken Sylvanas?"

Kalira's cheeks blush and she bites her lip, looking away. "Yeah. I want to keep this in the Horde, so I might go to Vol'jin."

"Are you sure he will help?" Borgan asks, reentering his serious mode.

Kalira shrugs her shoulders, quickly putting the hand holding behind her. "I don't know. If he doesn't then I can always . . . persuade him."

Borgan sighs gently, almost reaching for her again. "I don't like to see you exploit yourself like that, Kalira."

Kalira smiles wryly, "You are like Vician in that regard." She grows somber again at the mention of Vician.

"And what about Vician?" Borgan asks, a double meaning to his question.

Kalira blinks, reading in between the lines of his words. She blushes and looks away again, biting her lip. "I have to get him back," she says, answering Borgan's hidden question.

Borgan nods his head and looks down sadly for only a moment. He lifts his head again, a mask covering his emotions. "I think I know of someone who can help."

"Who?" Kalira asks, almost in a rushed tone.

"An assassin I've known since days of Arthas. Her name is Faith Nightreaper. She is skilled in tracking and can find practically anyone from out of thin air. I've kept in touch since the death of Arthas. I can put a letter out to her and ask her to help, but she'll take a few days to answer."

"Send the letter," Kalira says as she stands up. "I'll head over to Vol'jin in the mean time and see if I can secure his help. We have to get Sylvanas back up and running before that Council destroys the Forsaken."

Borgan nods and stands up, heading towards the door. He stops and turns, heading back towards Kalira. Gently, he places a hand on her shoulder, feeling the shiver throughout her body as they come into contact again. "Be safe out there, Kalira."

Kalira nods her head. "I need you to keep an eye on things here. Make sure the Council doesn't do anything too crazy. Write to me every day and give me updates, until I return with Vol'jin." She gives him a pointed look, "That's an order, soldier."

Borgan smiles wryly, nodding his head sharply. "Aye Ma'am." His eyes dance over her features again, his mouth parting slightly, a question on his lips. A question he knows he would not like the answer to, but feels he must ask it away.

Sensing his question, Kalira places her hands on his chest, feeling how he trembles beneath her. "I-I can't," she begins, stepping closer to him, looking up into his glowing blue eyes. "My heart belongs to Vician and Sylvanas. I don't want you to get hurt, Borgan."

Borgan takes his hands and places them on Kalira's hips, pulling her closer until she resting against him. He dips his head down, closer to her lips. "Then why did you step closer to me, Kalira?"

"Yo-you dragged me closer," she begins, her voice hitched and her body trembling.

"No, you stepped closer to me. You put your hands on my chest. Why?"

Kalira looks up, her hands snaking up his chest, wrapping around the back of his neck, "I-I don't know." She whispers softly. She pulls his head down until their noses brush up against each other and their lips are inches apart.

Suddenly, Kalira pushes Borgan back, escaping from his arms. "I'm sorry," she mumbles, her eyes filling with fresh tears. She bumps into Borgan as she runs out of the house, leaving a confused and heartbroken Death Knight behind.

As both parties are wrapped up in their own growing affairs, neither one of them notices a figure lurking in the background, who had been snapping several photos at them using a fancy goblin camera. The figure smirks and chuckles darkly, heading away from the would-be star-crossed lovers heading deeper into the Undercity.

A few days later, Shadow Priestess Victoria Painbinder steps out before a gathered crowd of Horde members. Between choosing targets with the Council and sending off letters to the other Horde leaders, she had been busy. But, at last, the time has come to announce to the whole of Azeroth the fate of Sylvanas Windrunner. Climbing the platform, she stands tall before the gathered Horde. Her eyes flick throughout, catching sight of all manner of creatures.

Folding her hands in front of herself, she clears her voice before she speaks loudly and clearly. "Ladies and Gentlemen of the Horde, hear my voice and listen to my words. A tragedy has befallen the Forsaken. Lady Sylvanas Windrunner, the Banshee Queen, has fallen into a coma and has been unresponsive for a month."

A gasp ripples throughout the crowd, as members of the Forsaken stiffen considerably, too shocked to move. Victoria pauses just long enough for the crowd to settle, before continuing. "We have tried everything to awaken the Dark Lady and we have failed.

"But, we do know who dared to strike at the Banshee Queen: the Alliance Dogs." Victoria reaches into her robe and pulls out two posters. On one is a portrait of Zachery Lancaster and on the other is Rose Oxworth. "These villainous vipers snuck into the Undercity and poisoned our Dark Lady. This priest and paladin—under the orders of the Alliance High Command—struck into the heart of the Forsaken, seeking to kill our Queen.

"But the Shadow had protected the Dark Lady. It defended against the Death Magic, only causing Sylvanas to slip into a coma. And still, these villainous vipers escaped, blowing a whole in the side of the Royal Chamber and causing the Zeppelin to crash. They even add insult to injury by kidnapping the Grand Warlock himself!

"I come to you, members of the Horde, because the Banshee Queen needs our help. We must strike back at the Alliance and make them suffer as they have made us suffer! They dared strike at one of our leaders; I dare say we should respond in kind. Members of the Forsaken and of the Horde heed my call and serve on Her Majesty's service by striking at the devious Alliance; for the Horde, for the Shadow, and for Sylvanas!"

A great roar erupts from the crowd, the loudest coming from the Forsaken. Victoria raises her fist in the air and the crowd matches, showing their support and solidarity towards their undead brothers in arms. Soon a chant begins in the crowd: "Syl-van-as! Syl-van-as!" Fists pump the air, rocking back and forth, matching the speed and tempo of the chant. Victoria smiles broadly, having sent the Forsaken into a wild fury. The Alliance have no idea what is awaiting them in the coming bloody war.