Disclaimer: The characters and settings created by Blizzard Entertainment Inc in this story are owned by their creators. I do not claim them as mine in any way, shape or form. I am not receiving monetary profit from this story and no copyright infringement is intended.

Notes: If you search for 'sugar plum fairy Sylvanas', that fanart someone did is practically the costume I had in mind for her XD

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Chapter 27: Runestalkin

I know, I'm tired of hearing about Sylvanas too. But since it was a costume ball I guess, and it served some kind of purpose to dazzle everyone with what she was wearing, maybe like setting herself on fire so we couldn't look away? Another way for us to all bow down to her and do her bidding?

Hey, I'm not exactly judging here. It takes a lot of work to keep up your persona and dramatic acts can only help. Whether Sylvanas was content to have people stay frightened of her since the Scourge Era or whether she wanted to make up for losing her chance to be lady of the land, the kind of woman the then Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider himself once felt compelled to court? I think the Dark Lady nailed it.

I didn't care for it, myself. That is, I wouldn't wear it or want to see any of the women in my life, family or not, wear something like that to any kind of party. But she did this tightrope walk between merry sugar plum fairy elf of the season who looks festive and fun, and also 'I will rip your face off if you make fun of my costume'. Sylvanas put a lot of work into festival reds and greens. She looked like she might of pranced off the back of a deck of cards, as a jolly harlequin, but with a hammer to knock your head off your shoulders if you'd been naughty. And Sylvie had no problem walking right up to people with a feisty grin and pinching their cheeks—hard I guess, if they looked at her funny.

"Oh, Kael. You weren't ready for this were you?"

I overhead this while leaning on Fennore. Sylvanas, baiting Kael'thas like that. Rather than wait to be received by King Kael'thas and announced, the Blood Knights did a pretty good job of hopping the line and just moving on into the party proper.

But we could all overhear Sylvanas' silver bells jingling while she chided the King of Quel'thalas pretty loudly in her spooky-yet-merry banshee voice. Which gave me worse chills.

"Merry Winter's Veil, everyone!"

People were afraid to answer Sylvanas at first, until Nathanos sneered and shook a giant candy-cane stick at them that did look sort of dangerous. Sylvie had got into Kael'thas' lap to say that. Him sitting on the throne, with her pinching both of his cheeks to force a smile out of him. Queen Saturna was right there, eyes wide but also doing this thing where she didn't want to look directly at the predator cat and make eye contact so it doesn't pounce on you next. Haha! I was feeling less sympathy for Saturna these days. Marry the monster, marry the monster's problems. And apparently his exes.

Or what was it that Kael's father-in-law said, Saturna's father? Kael'thas had imagined he was courting Sylvanas possibly, sending her all these letters she never returned way waaay back in the day. Saturna, oversmiling, carefully pried Sylvanas' large mesh fairy wings slightly out of the way so they weren't poking her in the face at fun angles while she posed in Kael'thas' lap for Nathanos (oh, he was dressed as a holiday Gnome in giant shoes and oversized clothes, oy!) to take her selfie with one of those um… those um… like, the Goblin cameras they used to sell in The Fitz. I'd have grabbed one for myself sometime if it wouldn't have made it so obvious a Tauren Pathfinder was having actual chummy conversations with Supervisor Fitzsprocket back in Mulgore.

Mulgore. How I missed her. We were getting so close to the actual holiday too, so I wondered how my cousins, and even Baine, were holding up? Stringing bonfire-popped popcorn over the doorways? Picking the tallest pine tree to bring up the bluff? They'd found some astoundingly huge ones over the years. The scent of pine, all around me in the room, was bringing me back. Then, I got annoyed when I realized that Kael'thas, or Saturna, must have imported these trees from my Mulgore, mine, in order to decorate the palace. Ugh.

"So, Fennore…" I scanned the room, hoping to find anyone at all that might take pity and bail me out. I prayed to Mu'usha that Alessandre had made contact with Meydiri and sent her to the Sunspire. Eventhough he was a Night Elf agent, going to Meydiri would have been the smartest thing to do when I didn't come back from Al's scouting mission. And if Mey said that she worked with me, that she represented Thunderbluff as well, the Blood Elves would have to set their opinions aside and give her full access to the palace, and to me. At least until they figured out May herself was shadier than the shade under one of these giant Mulgore pines.

I still can't believe they stole my trees to have their holiday party. My trees!

"Yes? Weren't you going to ask me something?"

The blonde man had a long history of being a real healer. I couldn't miss that. Despite my size, he had his arm around my waist, my exact waist, and knew were to put pressure to keep me upright, on my good foot. And despite his hatred for me, a sort of medic's bedside manner was coming through.

"We should get you some crutches." Fennore eyed the way I was struggling.

"Oh? If I'm a patient and not a torture victim, then sure."

He was handsome, I guess I'll say. And all of the Blood Knights cleaned up alright. For torturers, they looked good. Silver and gold suits or dresses. I guess Saturna as the queen chose their wardrobes at an event like this.

"Your wife isn't coming? A succubus could pass as a holiday deer—well that's if you're the ass in the costume. Or, perhaps a festive dryad if you stick holly in her horns."

Fennore stopped walking, to give us both a rest. I waited for him to boil over, too. But the carriage ride had sobered him. Anger had not helped him on the ride over. And being the man who said too much wasn't clever either. So he was able to get perspective, slow down, and not throw oil on a situation. Tempest and Sunthraze, those two were the kind of Blood Knights who couldn't help themselves no matter what. Seems a healer like Fennore would have to calculate in an intense situation, prioritize and triage.

I don't know why I gave into him in that moment, "I think that's the first time I ever called a man's wife a succubus and didn't mean it as an insult."

Fennore did have a smirk for me, in the briefest of moments. "Mavia would like cute in holly, actually. Holly in her horns."

Had we bonded? How do I keep doing that with hateable Blood Elf men who are possibly kidnappers. I could just hear Mey's voice somewhere, reading my mind, saying that I had a kink.

"Are you going to be married, soon?"

I felt an ache in my side when I got asked that question out of nowhere. Didn't realize it was an old wound.

"Not that you care."

"Intel is that you have a woman here. A Tauren woman who is as dark as silt and just as slippery to be around." He had started to look around the room too, trying to catch whatever I had been searching for. Fennore turned back to me, slow. "I don't know that you have a prayer even if she does show up, from the sound of it."

"You know nothing about Meydiri."

Fennore stood very still, while couples were loud, chattering away or moving through peach candle lights and loud orchestral music to mingle. No one was officially dancing yet, or even eating. Plenty of food about on the tables, big haunches of roasted meat dressed in magically-frosted winter garnish and glazed, gleaming desserts piled high. But I guess it was only for show? Compared to Tauren gatherings this was all so strict.

Fennore now looked out at the world around us, dead eyes. Jaw tight. He was getting ready to mess with me. I had a strong urge to clomp down on his foot with my big hoof but then, of course, we'd both fall over. Was there a different Blood Knight chump I could get to babysit me instead?

"I know that Meydiri is a cultist." He kept looking straight ahead. "I know that she isn't here for you. Your big tip off is that a woman doesn't travel across an ocean, just to finish an argument."

I was too angry to even think about the other part. It was simply the fastest, most effective way to take me down a notch and I wasn't putting up with it. "Oh, yeah?" I nodded with my horns back in the direction of where the throne was set up. "What do you think that is, sitting in Kael'thas' lap, posing with her legs up in the air like some Goblin cover girl? To show him all that he lost?"

"Sylvans doesn't want Kael'thas?"

"She wants him to look like her little bitch. She wants to embarrass his wife, the Queen of Quel'thalas. She wants the whole room to see her doing that rather than enjoy Kael's event. Is this supposed to be the event of the season, something like that? Whatever game she's playing, she's winning. My point is, idiot, some women have strong personalities. Some women were born fight and slay. Just because you gave up on the regular dating pool of mortal women and went with a demoness doesn't mean the whole dating pool is black-and-white, angels and devils. And I suppose that's why you did it, too. Couldn't find a normal woman who would put up with you? And now all the rest are bad. Well, don't leave that on me. Or on women like Meydiri who have every right. This is a hard world we live in, very hard. If you're not fighting back, then what the fel else are you doing, man or woman?"

Fennore half laughed, shook his head. "Are you so ignorant! She wants to be around the Twilight Culitsts, she's made real friends with them. Who does that? Who consigns, at a deeper level, to the amoral values, prefers the company of, would honestly choose to breathe the same air as, people like the Twilight Hammer's Cult!"

I wanted to accuse him of not knowing anything again, but obviously, he'd done his homework. And that was what was really infuriating me. The Knights of the Blood Nexus knew more about Meydiri than made any sense? It was starting to unsettle me. Her casual comings and goings, who she knew, who she was friends with as part of her mission. Why did they hate me so very precious much that they needed to go this far prying into my personal life and into hers? I was starting to believe that any of these Blood Knights might put a knife in my back, with very little thought about the consequences at all, if they were this disgusted with me. I kept having this false sense of security about Saturna's Blood Knights, like they had a value code, a point where they wouldn't go past it because no decent Horde soldier would, not without real cause. I kept making that damned mistake over and over again.

I tried to put Fennore back on edge. I don't know how I lost control of things in the first place. "You clearly speak from experience. What is it like, serving Kael'thas in that coven of his? Can't you get out if you want to? Must be horrible to be a grown man, have a wife, a life, and still have that nutcase own your ass, if he makes one mistake or another. And of course that's how Greatfather Winter disappeared, of course. Some fuck up on his part."

Fennore looked at me, afraid. Then he tried to be angry instead.

Good cop time. He could take a butter knife off any of these tables and gut me like a fish while we were conveniently huddled together like this, after all. "I'm not saying that you did it. But I do know that one of you, Kael'thas, your wife Mavia, one of you in this coven did the deed. Is it really worth covering for someone who would put you through all this, Fennore? You're toting around a Tauren like a handbag for crap's sakes. You should be home with your wife."

"I am doing everything that I can to protect my wife. And everyone else I care about, king and country."

How was it that the end of that statement sounded like a last minute thought to add on, at the end?

"And you're just assuming there's three of us, we're not the only ones. Why not try broadening your net. Fel is a potent magic we're all well-acquainted with around here. Is every single Blood Elf who doesn't have the stomach for it supposed to ignore how well it rids us our enemies, all of them, if it is handled properly, in a controlled fashion. This is your ignorance, at best, judging a warlock, Kael'thas, for being a warlock. And of course he is a man with good connections. You didn't even consider Chief Advisor Faltheriel, for one."

"I don't think so. If the Burning Legion is still involved, Knight Fennore, then this is beyond your skill to resolve alone. Let me help you—"

Fennore actually hissed at me, "The suffering they inflict! Do you actually know it? Do you really know what it is like to break before the Legion, body and soul? To give up on everything, every last good thing there ever was in this world? And then if you are one of the fortunate ones—imagine living through all of that, without the perfect and silent embrace of the grave being a fortuity—you go on and live the best life you can, only for fools like you to act like you are a taint. A living, walking stain, a mockery of this 'good life' that the Army of Light and the Argent Dawn and the Brotherhood of Light fight against—who even does that!" He was so angry and speaking so fast, he kept cutting himself off, so ready with counter arguments. It was a justification that had gone around in his own mind many times. Something he paced rooms with, hissing and spitting about it alone, at himself, whenever his life with Kael'thas, or with Mavia, got rough. "Do you think it's all so black and white, you fool! Light this and Light that—well, let me tell you, only a Blood Knight would know. A Nexite, in fact, an original Nexite who went through all that Kael'thas endured too, in Outland. There is bad and there is evil. And sometimes the bad guys, yes that's who we've always been, surprise, Turaho! They resent evil as well and they fight back. But it doesn't look like armies waving silver battle standards in a glorious wind. It looks like hell. It looks like betrayal, and nastiness, knives in the back in the middle of the night. Illidan waking up and realizing that we will cut him, and deep, if he ever lays his hands on… one of us again. Any of us! And it looks like theft, and blackmail, and yes, abductions, too. It looks however it has to look, you damned fool! You damned, damned fool—am I supposed to walk up and have tea with someone who threatens my existence, my precious scrap of life that I held onto with these… nubs, these bloodied, chewed-on fingernails after all we Blood Elves went through?" Fennore had to let me go. His hands were shaking. I found a reception table closeby and leaned on it, hopefully not in the food, too. Fennore was focused on his light gray gloves, those trembling fingers. His hands… I had been so focused on the finger with that horrid ring-bite around it, his ring-finger. But think of it, his nails were red. Sort of. Were they? I don't often judge another guy's nails you know. But maybe. And so Fennore was having another scene, a breakdown right in front of me. At home, he paced, he chewed his nails, he raged alone and cussed about his situation, talked to himself. Fennore marched off, "I can't even explain this to you!"

Fennore abandoned me. The haze cleared some, and the Blood Elves around ceased whispering about whatever our hushed argument was. They went back to drinking, and ignoring the giant injured Tauren too, of course, who couldn't even stand on his own. Sure, thanks! I don't need any help.

"My, my." I said loudly for anyone to hear, "How fast Tauren go out of style at the Court of the Sun." I then mumbled, "Bunch of pricks."

"Boy, oh boy! That was a confession if I ever heard one."

It was right in line with my thoughts. And using the slang I would have used too, if I was leaning on the bar, down on my luck in The Fitz, back in Mulgore.

"Holy—either there's a really small person who is very good at doing Supervisor Fitzsprocket impressions under this table here, or it's the real thing." I couldn't lean down, so I edged the table cloth up a bit and craned my neck.

And there he was. Well, Fitz and Bonnie, too. Nostalgia hit me hard—my Sunwalker rites ceremony back in Bloodhoof Village. These guys really like hanging out under tables, eating huge, stolen plates of left overs in the least likely places for them to have ever been invited.

"The fel did you manage all this? And is it the third date?" I waggled my brow at Fitz and Bonnie.

Bonnie instantly laughed at me. She pointed a golden drumette my way, then took a big bite. "S'not like that. We been invited." The Goblin gal kept munching away.

"So you're hiding under the table because?"

"Have you seen these people? We're about hip-height, which is pretty decent, right Fitzy?"

So-called 'Fitzy' was digging into some holiday rum cake, ravenously with a gold spoon. "I wonder what the plates are worth!"

"Well, it's not like we're small as Gnomes. But these snooty-snoots still won't talk to us! Imagine that? And these accommodations are terrible! You can't sit on the tables covered in food, either, and nobody's eating! So we made our own party down here."

"Wait, how did you…" I took the chance, since it might also keep me out of sight. I painfully hobbled my way onto the floor and scooted mostly under the table. One of my big legs stuck out, and my horns budged it up off one table leg. "You said you were officially invited? So you walked through the portal, I guess from Orgrimmar to Silvermoon, through the actual Sunspire? They let Supervisor Fitzprocket himself pass through the throne room, putting his grubby little hands over everything that isn't nailed down."

"Well, we used an alias, duh. I'm some… trade prince robber baron or whatever. Bonnie is—"

"I was able to come as myself, because my name ain't sullied. I'm any Goblin tycoon's private secretary wherever I go, Turaho." She finished her plate of wings and hugged me before I could say anything else, "You fool! I told you to be more careful with those mahbles. I was worried about ya! I begged Fitz to get us down here and fast, by any means necessary."

"A starlit cruise, across the Great Sea. You woulda been impressed. We forged our invitations just in time after parking her down in um, in the Ghostlands. Lotsa natural harbors in the south."

"Still, they'd see a Goblin steamship, Fitz. You'll be impounded at Sunsail Anchorage before the night's through."

Fitz shook his head. Bonnie did too.

"So no? What kind of tech is the boat?"

"It's a sub." Bonnie swatted my shoulder, with pride at her beau. "Can ya believe it? Fitzy has this tricked out Goblin sub, we went at… knots. Just… so fast! Best of the line, top of the cake Venture Co. tech. It was so romantic!"

"Hrmph, romantic, huh Fitz?"

Fitz finished his rumcake and sat back. They had a bottle of something strong down there to split. I waggled my hand for me to take a swig.

"Eh, your Tauren gulps will finish the thing, but why not? I already got about ten cases smuggled back to the sub, on their way through the Ghostlands by special courier as we speak."

"By special courier, you mean your Venture Co. cronies?"

Bonnie brightened up, "Ya can't man a submarine without a crew. So I call him Captain Fitzy."

Fitz gazed at Bonnie, his reddening cheeks already rosey from all the alcohol.

"Nice family reunion. Now, can you two get me out of here? Fennore, Kael'thas or Mavia—she's a succubus, one of them has Greatfather Winter. I am going to find him if it kills me at this point." I tried to scoot forward and get back up, but pain shot through my leg. "Gods, and one other thing—geez!" I blew out a patient breath. "Faltheriel Darkweaver, that chief advisor of Kael's. Though I feel strongly too that Faltheriel threw that name out to deflect blame. Unless he likes being so loyal to Kael'thas and naming the culprit too, at the same time. Who does that, right?"

Fitz nodded at me, "Yeah, who does that. Turaho, I'm worried about you. Bonnie got me that worried, that I actually cared about you finding the old Dwarf and pulled out the company, ah, sub to come and find you."

"Keepin' an eye on you through those secret mahbles, that wasn't enough. It never was."

"More than that, though. Turaho. You sure this is all worth it? These are a bunch of snooty elves. They got money, they're givin' it to the Horde, I guess I can understand that. So keepin' em happy cause they have their uses, alright, I hear ya. But this is you and Meydiri's future. And it's all about an old Dwarf who's been kidnapped. He's immortal, he'll probably be fine."

"He could be in torment forever."

"But it wouldn't be your torment. You could get free. Now, tonight. Let us put you on the sub and whisk you away from all this."

I'd done all this already, with my own conscience. They broke my legs. And people, like the Night Elves and their dying tree and so many others too, they needed Greatfather Winter, him and his miracles. Maybe that would always be beyond a greedy Goblins' mind. "Look. I need a favor. Mey's here, right? I assume you saw her."

"Watch out, she's over there chattin' up that beefy guys, Pyro—whatsit."

"Oh. Pyorin the Tank. Seems right. He's a looker, maybe, but Mey can sniff out the weakest link pretty easily too. She's workin' on him. Think Mey saw me get down here with you?"

"We didn't say hi or anything on the way in here, but I know she saw us. And she saw us give up on this preppy party, too."

Bonnie agreed, finishing a teensy glass of sherry she was able to hold well in her delicate hand, pinky raised. "Mey's a good goil. She's not gonna lose sight of us at all when we can help her. And she must have seen your giant let stickin' out from under the table cloth too, since she knows we're down here."

"Thank the sun."

"Oy! Those Blood Elves wearin' off on you too, those expressions and everything?"

"It's also a Sunwalker expression, Fitz." I made a fist.

"Eh, calm down. I'm getting drunk off cake of all things. I can't make a joke?"

"I couldn't let on that I overheard their plans last night. Because they might panic and do anything to Greatfather Winter. But it should be safe for me to make a getaway now. And there's one more place I need to search. Al wanted me to search all the Blood Elf houses for him, the suspects. I think I've narrowed it down. I have to take a look at Fennore's house. Though, I don't relish the idea of running into a succubus who's in there… knitting or something."

"A succubus?" Fitz was overly shocked by that, considering the monsters he regularly dealt with in the Venture Co.

Bonnie went, "A whaaaaat?"

"And I need this leg healed, too. Dammit. They've done a real number on me, those Blood Knights know that they have. Is anyone coming this way? Especially something tall and harpy-shaped? With a bust out to here and red hair?"

"That's some specific holiday present your asking for Turaho…" Bonnie hit Fitz for saying that, "But come to think of it, seems it's a Winter's Veil miracle. Just the thing you ordered is strutting this way."

"She's Tempest. One of the Blood Knights who broke my legs. I don't have any time, then. Dammit! If I could only heal myself. I can't believe I suck this bad at my chosen profession."

Bonnie grabbed my big hand, compared to her small green one. "Then, focus, Turaho! Cause we can only give you robot legs. We're Goblins!"

Fitz sucked his teeth. "Alright. I'll go distract that dame. We'll all reconnoiter and such back at the sub. Don't worry, if you can walk Turaho, we'll get word to you."

"If! That's a big if!"

That left Bonnie and me alone. Bonnie slightly distracted because Fitz went with the most obvious ploy of all. Horrible Goblin flirting. And then, it sounded like he shifted to wanting to sell Tempest something. Whatever it was, it sounded complicated and expensive.

"Focus, Turaho. Please, honey?" Bonnie squeezed my hand again. "If ya can't call the Light then… I mean, is there anything else?"

I was thoroughly frustrated by then. I had enough, more than enough to finish this. But I needed my hale, strong Tauren body back. Then I could knock some heads together!

"What else is there? Light magic heals!"

"I dunno, I just… I hoped there'd be somethin' else? Me and Fitz, comin' all this way. We got fire power on the sub but that's underwater and far away. Right now, me trying to get ya to reach back to ya ancestors or… I dunno. How about that ghost wolf of yours? Is there anybody you can summon, or ya mother?"

"Oh don't bring my mother into this." Ma would create more problems with her being emotional and threatening magically-talented strangers who could freeze her in a soul shard possibly.

"Zoca… my Zoca." As I said her name, it was like I could see my wolf. In a different way. I couldn't explain it then. She didn't like all those people, she didn't want to come around. I couldn't force Zoca to come out, not even if I called to her. But she was within me. Strong and looking ahead as I was. A deeper part of herself, entwined with my own. A sort of wolf-gaze that I possessed. That we had together. Separate from us, but yet, still ours. It was the first time I really noticed it.

"I don't need to be healed right away. I just need more time. I need to move."

"Oh, right! Your um… your thing—"

The table cloth whipped up. I saw Tempest's angry, made up face. And she would be livid, after everything since we were at the mansion going exactly the wrong way for her. But I saw through that woman, for once. I saw beyond the palace guests, beyond. Beyond the walls. In my minds eye, it was all blue, liquid, passing through me, then around me. I saw myself, strong and unbroken, running wild as I craved. My two good hocks perfectly sound. Zoca was running beside me. Unafraid, determined as I was.

Then, I looked down, and she looked up at me. We always did that. We always wanted to see each other when we were really ourselves, running together. And after that… it's so hard to explain after that…

Her paws were my hooves and my hands were her paws. And we were padding along in a blinding blue streak, across the marble floor, out beyond the golden gates. I was elated, I started to realize what this was, what I was able to do! It was different than when I could charge through the spirit world. Or, more precise. I looked up and had to see it, the dark whorl of shadow that was always up above me, the mark of the world of the dead. Yes, I was passing through it, but properly this time. The way that…

The way that a shaman would. Only I could never control it.

Then, it spun out of my control. I felt scratched on all sides, it took a while for me to calm and stop struggling.

My chest expanded rapidly as a Blood Elf woman crouched nearby. She had her hand on the stone ground. It was cobblestone. We were in a courtyard. I was crestfallen that I hadn't got too far beyond the palace, then.

"He's alright, he's fine."

"Daphne. Please be careful."

That was Sunthraze's voice. I struggled all over again. And it was so strange. I was a big guy, what were a few tangled bushes to me? But I couldn't break out. I was caught underneath.

"So, then. It's true."

I felt wild. I could feel the tongue hanging out of my mouth. I was still a wolf, then. How did I change back? Should I? In this spirit form, not an inch of me was in pain. I was as free as Zoca's very spirit flowing within me. And then I flinched when Daphne touched me.

I said in a panic, "Where is she?"

Daphne's elegant brow wrankled, "Who?"

"He means Meydiri. The other Tauren." Sunthraze put a hand on his hip. "She ran out of here like a second ago, when she saw your blue wolf streak ping-pong all across the dance floor with no waltz on. We all thought you got outside the palace, way down the road. She called for her kodo to go chase you down."

Sunthraze stepped closer. Pyorin was there as well. I moved my blue lupine head enough to see Fennore seated at a garden table in the back. He was smoking a cigarette and definitely melted into his chair for the evening, with a glass of something strong, mostly finished. Pyorin took a step toward me too, but Sunthraze reached his arm out, for the others to stay back. Other than that, I couldn't see the glass doors back inside to the party, though the run of the wall suggested there were some. And we were surrounded by a couple trimmed gold trees and the night breeze.

"Turaho…" Daphne lay her hand on my ghastly furred, crystal blue foreleg, smoothed over my paw like I was her pet dog. I suppose I looked it. And they were speaking down to me because I was wolf-shaped, looking much like Zoca, I supposed, and caught in some bushes close to the ground. "The guards ran out too, because Saturna called them. Do you realize, you went around the room in there several times, down over the drawbridge to the keep, up and down the city streets… you did only what a ghost walker, a skilled shaman can do. In mere moments?"

Pyorin reached his wife with his voice, if it wasn't safe to close in on me. "He's scared. Give him room."

"No." Daphne kept holding onto my paw. "What we did to him was wrong. Look at him, we even forced him into a level of his powers that he wasn't ready for." She petted down my back next. "What if we had done worse. What if we killed him, fooling around like we did!"

All the men there rolled their eyes.

"You guys are a bunch of jackasses." I heard myself say. Alright, so I was getting better at speaking in this state.

"Tempest should be here for this."

I lashed out again, of course. Hearing her name. But I was more than stuck in bushes. I mean, I was. But those bushes had somehow snagged me, as a ghost. That shouldn't be possible. I was stuck between worlds, between life and death. That made my heart race. I wondered what the hell was going to happen to me next if I was stuck between. And these Blood Knights were being so cautious when they were supposed to hate me. That told me more than enough, that I was on the verge of something truly horrific. I couldn't help but panic.

Daphne kept speaking to mostly me. "No. She isn't here right now. Nor is Saturna. Tempest is heading up the search for our… delinquent palace guest. You. And the queen now has a political fracases to calm down. Because Sylvanas surely saw all that as well. And it won't take Warchief Sylvanas long to put two and two together, either. But all any of this really means is that we need to defer to Brother Tank right here, right now. Pyorin? Well?"

I growled when Pyorin came even closer. I wasn't sure how good my Ma's ghost wolf bite ever was, but I hoped I could swing a decent one to maul the hell out of this guy if I needed to.

Pyorin was at last pressured by his wife Daphne the Weaver, into doing the unthinkable. The smartass girl who was so good with her spellwork. But that was also when, well, everything began to change for me. The world turned a corner, it would stand on its head, everything I ever knew, and never go back. It would be impossible to.

"Turaho Runestalker." Pyorin swallowed, then uncrossed his arms. "We've had our eye on you since you got here, really. Pathfinder, Paladin—"

"Sunwalker."

"Fine, a Sunwalker. But you are also, obviously, a shaman. A paladin and a shaman at once. We don't know of anyone, perhaps among there Draenei there are a rare few. But as a member of the Horde and a user of the Light—"

"Servant of the Light."

"…we would be fools not to reach out to you. Impossible as it may seem. But this situation transcends the investigation. It's more important to us, to our people, than anything else."

Daphne was petting my head now, scratching behind my wolf ears. Okay, she was good.

She put it softly, "More importantly, we have the ability to save your life. If you allow us to instruct you now? It's that you've been sort of an enemy, that none of us were willing to come forward before. But we should have. Normally, none in our order would wait this long to make an offer."

Fennore spoken drunkenly over everything. "Saturna said it would be a conflict of interest!"

"A what?" I was barely managing all this. Maybe they were all high on Bloodthistle. I heard that was a thing.

Pyorin crossed his arms again, gave me a hard look. "Well I am Brother Tank, and right now, I see only one way forward. And yes, my wife is right. It has always been the decent thing to do."

"You all gonna lop my doggy head off? While the boss is away and you got no witnesses? Well get on with it!" I'm sure I barked pretty savagely, too. I hoped. I judged the distance, whether I could ghost-wolf-leap onto his throbbing jugular vein in that thick neck, if Pyorin got any closer.

"Brother Runestalker. Welcome to the Knights of the Blood Nexus."