As is often the case with these projects of mine, people show up out of the blue. This story is somewhat unique, in that while most of the cast is laid out for me (as is typical with fanfiction), they are—for the most part—my own.

Sythius, as has been mentioned, is my druid. He is also the sole level-85 character on my World of Warcraft account.

Sylvanne is my priest, hovering in the mid-60s.

Olrec is my shaman, a lowly 17.

But Kayli is as new to me as she is to you.

I wonder what role she will play in the future of this tale.


Big Olrec Stoutfeather was no stranger to the politics between master (mistress) and servant. He said nothing as the two night elf maidens stared at each other, one in abject fury and the other in rampant terror.

"If ye'd seek ter catch up t' him," he said a moment later, softly but firmly—this was no place for sheepishness, "I'd suggest ye start movin'. Here in th' wilderness, the druid's at an advantage."

Sylvanne turned to look at the dwarf. "Of course," she said quickly. "You would, of course, return to your comrade. I would accompany you." She glared again at Kayli, then turned her attention back to Olrec. "Though I admit I am to attend to a meeting with the good King Wrynn on the morrow."

"Then we'd best be quick, m'lady."

Olrec set to moving, following Sythius's trail. It was more difficult than one might have thought, considering the size of the man. But he was a shaman, and he knew the turns and twists of forests. Sylvanne met his stride some moments later, with Kayli following sheepishly behind.

Olrec caught a glance at the young servant every once in a while; she moved gracefully, with ease and confidence, though her face bespoke supreme discomfort. Eventually, Olrec sighed and murmured, softly, "Yer attendant's got a question on 'er lips. She'd not seek ter anger ye, m'lady, and I'd not presume ter encroach on yer affairs. But if ye'd seek an old dwarf's opinion, a matter o' this nature cannae be left t' fester."

Sylvanne scowled, but after all she was young, and Olrec had always exuded a quiet sort of authority. She nodded, rather curtly, and said without looking back, "You would ask a question of me, Kayli. Speak freely."

"…Your esteemed father has spoken to me on the subject of…of your brother. I remember well his exile. You must, as well. I…I merely wished to…to—I don't understand! You know what he did! How can you defend him?"

Anger met Sylvanne's face again, but she mastered it.

Her face a mask of neutrality, the priestess said: "You know what you have been told. I know the truth. The sad truth. My brother is no villain. He has accepted the mantle of a criminal because he cares nothing for reputation. If you needed proof of that, realize that he is now seeking to enter the land from which he has been cast forever, with a plague-infected member of the sin'dorei in tow."

"You see such blasphemy as heroic?" Kayli asked incredulously.

Again, Sylvanne controlled her anger.

"Where you see blasphemy, I do indeed see nobility. Surely you saw the size of that child. How old do you think he is, Kayli?"

"…Some ten years. Perhaps."

"And do you think that in ten years, he would have been able to make the conscious choice to blaspheme anyone, least of all a race of people he has never met?"

"I…do not know."

"He was fed fel energy, Kayli. There is no other way for it. Even the most gifted of sorcerers do not harness their gift in so little time as to have fallen into corruption in so short a span."

"I did not…think of that."

"No. You did not. You also did not think of what it means, that my gifts made themselves manifest for the boy. It is the will of Elune that I perform the task that you interrupted. I, like my brother, will heal the sick. I care nothing for ideology, nor race, nor history. If my goddess bids me to do my part, then I will do it."

She would say no more on the subject. Kayli, sensing this, fell silent again.

There was guilt on her face, and chagrin, but not so much confusion anymore.

For a solid hour, the three companions trekked through the forest of Elwynn. In a clearing some half a mile east of where they'd started, they found the young blood elf huddled in his savior's cloak, lying against the white fur of a gigantic bear. Sylvanne stopped dead, Kayli gasped and reached for a weapon, but Olrec merely chuckled.

"Never seen 'im transform, have ye?" he asked. "Meet Sythius, Druid o' the Claw, rising star o' the Argent Dawn. Them claws've taken down more Scourge soldiers'n most the rest of us put together."

"The stars be praised…" Sylvanne whispered. "He has done it." She began to step forward, as though in a trance. Olrec made to stop her, but decided against it. Nonetheless, he drew one hammer from his belt and held it at the ready, unsure what it was that he intended to do. The white bear was near on five times his size, as savage a beast as had ever walked Azeroth's wilds.

The priestess reached out. She touched the white fur.

Sythius's gigantic eyes snapped open, and he was up with a growl of such primal fury that Olrec went stiff, and nearly lost his grip on his weapon. Then those eyes caught sight of Sylvanne, stared at her—still he snarled.

"Brother…" she whispered. "Do you know me? Do you know my mind? My heart? Be at ease. I will help you."

The growl turned soft, and the bear began to shrink.

Soon, the elf druid knelt before his sister; only the eyes were the same.

"Are you angry with us?" Sylvanne asked, not sheepishly but directly.

Sythius blinked, as though he had no idea what she meant by the question. "No," he said. He stood, and removed himself from Sylvanne's way. She lowered to the forest floor and held her hands over Kin. He moved his gaze slowly to Kayli, who was staring at him, terrified.

The exile's face scrunched up in thought.

Finally he said, as if seeing her for the first time, "…Oakwalker."

Kayli blinked. "W-What?"

"Tanavar…Oakwalker. You look like him." Sythius spoke slowly, unsure of the words.

"He is my father," Kayli said, mystified.

The big elf grinned his signature grin, clearly pleased with himself.

Kayli's tentative, fearful smile was answer enough.

Olrec nodded in satisfaction.

The trouble had passed.