My apologies for the lateness of this chapter. Yesterday was one of the few days that my new roommate and I were able to get together to make moving plans; we're finding our own place in a couple months, and had to get things set in motion.

Instead of forcing this chapter out late last night, I decided it would be better served by extra time and consideration. Hence, the delay. Again, I apologize, but I hope that you understand the quality of the story was at stake.

Next week's chapter will be up as scheduled.


Olrec was used to walking quickly so as to keep up with the strides of his longer-limbed compatriots, but he was breaking into an all-out run just to keep Sylvanne Sil'nathin in his line of sight as she swept in and out of the afternoon rush of residents and tourists through the Trade District. Kayli seemed torn between following her mistress's lead and running for help; at the mention of the name "Sythius," she'd gone pale—with just the barest hint of green—and seemed thoroughly nonplussed at how desperate Sylvanne apparently was to see him—such behavior seemed out of place for her.

Olrec did not bother to ask; whatever the big elf had done to earn exile explained Kayli's reaction easily; it was Sylvanne that had the shaman curious. He said nothing. This was no time for words. Once the trio made their way across the central bridge and outside the city limits, Sylvanne stopped and waited for Olrec to take the lead—he did so without comment.

The old dwarf found Sythius, looking despondent and panicky—a bad combination for any soldier—as he watched little Kin, who was hunched over and retching up the watered broth he had gulped down that morning for breakfast. It struck Olrec that, as sad and sorry a sight it was, it was probably a blessing in disguise; there was no race on Azeroth more prejudiced against Kin's kind than the kaldorei, and it was probably for the best that the child's first impression be made with his eyes scrunched closed.

It was a wonder that Sylvanne was able to keep her fine robes in order in the well- guarded but still wild Elwynn Forest; it only took her the barest of moments to collect herself and present a mask of neutrality. Kayli was not nearly as successful, hiding behind the other two and trembling such that she might have been suffering a seizure, though whether this was borne of terror or anger was unclear.

When Sythius looked up to see who had encroached upon this private misery, there was no reading his expression; certainly, as feral and sharp-reflexed as he was, the druid had sensed their presence long before now. He'd simply decided that now was the time to regard them, as Kin moaned piteously and tried to hide from the world.

Amber eyes found silver; brother's eyes found sister's.

The world stopped to watch, and listen.

Sythius let out a breath he had been holding. Sylvanne clenched her thin, delicate-seeming hands into fists and then let them drop again. Kayli continued to shake.

The druid stood.

Sylvanne took a step forward.

"Mistress…" came Kayli's quivering voice, like the prayer of a desolate acolyte to her deity. But Sylvanne only had eyes for the man in front of her.

Sythius moved closer. He seemed apprehensive.

And then, all at once, with no visible catalyst, both rushed forward at once. The druid swept the priestess up into his mammoth arms and all but crushed her to him. There were no words, no cries, no sobs. Only silent reunion.

Olrec grinned, but did not miss from the corner of his eye the almost mortified expression on the servant's face. He elected merely to make a mental note of it, and remained silent. Sylvanne's thin arms clung to Sythius's neck; her feet were several inches off the ground. She was tall, but could not hope to match her brother's height. It should have looked ludicrous, that embrace, but somehow it didn't.

Somehow, it seemed the most natural thing in the world.

A self-contained eternity passed before Sythius finally set the girl down—for indeed, as disciplined as she seemed to be, Sylvanne Sil'nathin /was/ a girl—and beamed down at her. There was something in that smile that Olrec had never seen: understanding. Here, with this priestess, Sythius Sil'nathin understood exactly where he was, what he was, who he was.

"Dear one," the druid murmured, sounding just as tender and docile as he ever had with Kin, and Sylvanne's smile—already threatening to overtake her—widened. "Of all places to find you…of all times to see you…" He seemed perfectly willing to stare at her for the rest of his waking days; it was Sylvanne who turned the subject back to the boy, who still shook and whimpered on the forest floor.

She kneeled down. "What has befallen this child, Brother?" she asked.

"Plague," Olrec said, and Kayli flinched. Sylvanne merely turned a curious gaze on him. "As I was fit ter tell Grayson, this'n tests the faith. I beg ye, m'lady, remember mercy afore ye turn to this lad. I hear tell ye can feel it in 'em."

Sylvanne's delighted expression turned somber. She frowned.

"Yer brother's been fightin' 'longside the Argent Dawn, m'lady. One o' the best damn recruits the order's e'er had, mark me. Found this little one, too stubborn to believe 'im dead. None o' our healers, meself included, cannae do for 'im."

"You are trained, dear one," Sythius murmured, taking a knee beside her and putting a hand on Kin's trembling shoulder. "You…are chosen."

Sylvanne bit her lip nervously.

"Mistress," Kayli said, but she was ignored.

"I have trained, Brother," Sylvanne admitted. "I have trained with our best. But I know not whether I've the power to combat plague. This…this boy is…" Her frown deepened, and she reached out.

The priestess rolled Kin onto his back and her hand inched toward his sunken face. Sythius wrapped one of his own hands, almost ludicrously huge compared to his sister's thin wrist, and murmured, "My sister...do you trust in me?"

Sylvanne blinked. "Of course," she answered without hesitation.

Sythius watched her face for a long moment before he nodded, and relinquished his grip. Sylvanne pulled at one of Kin's eyelids, revealing a blankly agonized bright green eye. To her credit, the priestess did not react visibly, nor even physically; though she did take in a sharp breath.

Kin's illness chose that moment to seize him, and his tiny body heaved with another fit of vomiting, though nothing remained in his stomach. Olrec hissed, and Sylvanne closed her eyes. She held out a hand, and began to whisper something.

A soft, moonlike glow began to thrum about her hand, and a moment later, Kin had calmed; a moment later, he sighed with relief. A m—

Hands clawed at Sylvanne's thin frame and snatched her away, with such suddenness and panicked force that no one—not Sylvanne, not Olrec, and not Sythius—could understand for a moment what had just happened.

Kayli stood over her mistress, who was now flat on her back. Breathing hard, the young servant looked torn between horror and disgust. She said, harsh and confused, "Mistress! I was tasked by your father to watch you! I cannot allow you to waste your gifts on such monsters!"

The dwarf shaman stared, slack-jawed.

Sylvanne was stunned to speechlessness.

For a wonder, Sythius recovered first.

He stood, lifted Kin into his arms. "…Thank you, dear one," he said, strangely distant and almost professional. "You…helped him. But you should not anger your father with this. You must not soil your hands. I will find someone else."

Sylvanne all but threw Kayli aside as she struggled to her knees; Sythius began to walk. "Brother!" she called. "Where will you go?"

"I will go to Mother," Sythius said, with grim finality.

"Brother!" Sylvanne was back on her feet. "Sythius! You cannot."

The druid turned. "I must. Olrec has brought you to me. You cannot do this. You must not anger your father for this."

It did not escape Olrec's notice that he kept saying "your father."

"I will find someone who can."

The strange part of it was, Sythius did not sound reproachful. It simply sounded as though he were stating cold facts.

"Hold on, elf," Olrec said.

Sythius stopped.

Sylvanne took a step toward her brother, but Kayli reached out and grasped her arm. "Mistress," she said, trying to sound stern, "In the name of your father, I cannot allo—"

"You were not given permission to speak!"

Kayli quailed, and one of Olrec's fists found its hammer.

Rage—not just anger or irritation but real fury—boiled off the young priestess like waves of physical heat, and she suddenly seemed ten feet tall. She turned a withering glare on her companion. She seemed bathed in light, wreathed in it.

Engulfed by it.

"If you will remind me of my place below my father," she hissed, and her voice echoed and shook the leaves, "then I will remind you of yours. You do not deliver orders to me. You do not remove me from my actions. I answer to Elune. If you are so stupid as to think I place my father's wishes above those of my goddess, then I will treat you like the servant you are destined to remain. Be silent, be still, and do not touch me. My brother is no monster of yours. You will call him master, or you will call him nothing. Am I understood?"

Kayli fell to her knees, shaking with unabashed terror.

Sylvanne whirled on a heel, returning her attention to her brother.

Sythius was gone.