To Rhonin it felt like yesterday that Jaina and Sylvanas had stepped into Dalaran. And like a year. Or something more creative of a metaphor for very long period of time but whatever. Like he could be bothered by semantics right now.

Vereesa.

He had – as terrible as it felt to say – had to get used to worrying about her and the way that the lethargy of magic depriation seeped into her in conjunction with the wearying series of calamities that had deprived their corner of the world of all semblance of peace and good things these last years. Would that also be what they would found themselves getting used to one day?

It was getting to Rhonin. All of it.

Vereesa had been his strength for most of their time together. Just to keep up with that kind of tireless bundle of arcane energy she turned into whenever they were travelling, that in his opinion warranted both free spellcasting and the theory that Windrunner elves were in fact arcane golems with permanent glamour spells for concealment.

Getting up, alone, on days like this one. Having breakfast, alone, because even when he tried to make it into a cozy occasion it caused Vereesa more stress than anything else when he ate next to the bed where she lay.

On days like these, it was hard and not even the admittedly quite stellar progress they seemed to be able to make with the Forsaken was enough. Rhonin munched disinterested on some slice of bread he had roasted. Or set on fire briefly, if they were going to be so nit-picking.

"Rhonin?"

Wait now, even a drowsy call this early was actually more than most days.

"Darling?" Vereesa was a shadow in the grey and black of their bedroom. She was lying on her back and looking right up but even in her listless position something was different now. A clarity of the eyes that was not usually there.

"What time is it?"

"An hour after sunrise or so."

"What day? What I mean – how many days since – ?

"It's been seven days. I haven't heard back from your sister. Or from Jaina. But I delivered our answer the day before yesterday."

"I know. You told me. And it all becomes a blur." Vereesa was looking very intently at their ceiling. Rhonin resisted the urge to double-check if there was some particularly offensive cobweb there. "I am not getting any better, lying here."

It hurt so because it was unfortunately true. Rhonin couldn't think of an answer.

"Love." Vereesa's hand nestled into his. "You've taken care of me all this time. You've never complained, never been angry, never been impatient with me. Even while you have watched over my rangers and the lost souls of our ramshackle city. Thank you."

Vereesa was smiling slightly. A pale and tired smile. The finest Rhonin had seen in days.

"I have waited so long for Sylvanas. I had hoped so much that she would come, and that all would be different and better in some unexplainable way. But it isn't."

Rhonin wanted to argue the point but he got the feeling that Vereesa did not want it.

"It won't be. I won't be getting any better. And I can not lie here waiting for it anymore. And I think that it has to stop now."

"I miss you." Rhonin found himself mouthing. It was illogical but he couldn't help it. "I miss you with me."

"Help me get out of bed." Vereesa held out her hand, and she swayed like a drunk about to tip over when she stood up. Rhonin wondered if she had done it too fast and experienced light-headedness from the movement

"Have you been able to make any progress with supplements? I'm so sorry, Love, I am sure you have mentioned it many times and I just – "

"Only variations of mana wine and potions, so far. At least grape juice would be healthier than wine in the long run…"

"Barbarian." Vereesa mumbled, and then she sighed. "Well, if it doesn't go with mana wine it will have to go without." She took a wobbly step forward and grabbed hold of the doorway in order not to topple over. "I think…I have this feeling that…it's not me who…"

Just then and there, a small ray of sunshine snuck between the curtains and shone rebelliously into the room. Rhonin found himself liking that ray very much.

"Get me my ranger uniform. My sister needs me."

Being home.

It was both unreal like a dream and completely familiar so that everything from yesterday and earlier was starting to seem like one. Had nothing changed over such a long time? The stacks of paper were even where Jaina thought she very well might have left them that fateful night late in summer.

She yawned. Was it morning? It was hard to tell. Not night at least because there was light coming from her window.

"My Lady?" Pained stifled a yawn from the door. She was carrying a steaming cup of familiar tea.

"Hi Pained. What's the time?"

"Indecently early." Pained put the cup of tea down on the tiny nightstand next to Jaina, who sat up in her bed.

"It feels like I have slept for ages. I think the time is different on the other side of the sea or something like that…" Jaina sipped on the tea. "…there was a long treatise of that which Dalar Dawnweaver wrote on the subject some three decades ago. Aran Spellweaver did his best to shoot it down of course…"

"You did sleep for a long time. I am very sure you needed it."

That was true, but wise from experience Jaina looked closer and saw the reddening of Pained's eyes.

"You sat up awake to make sure I would keep on sleeping, didn't you?"

"No." Pained cleared her throat. "Not too much…" She managed to almost look guilty.

Jaina cautiously put her cup of tea down and reached up to hug Pained, who had sat down precariously perched on her bedside.

"I promise I'll go to bed early tonight so you can get some rest then at least." Jaina smiled fondly at her.

"What's this? Are we no longer arguing about My Lady's sleep schedule?"

"Suffice to say that I have been taught the futility of such things. You have kindred spirits across the sea. You really should meet some day." The moment she said it Jaina remembered herself and her mood plummeted. The chances of Pained getting to meet anyone of the Forsaken were not stellar. Jaina did not look forward to when the events from yesterday would catch up and hit her with full force. For the moment it was all dulled. And unreal.

Jaina managed to pack most thoughts of the day ahead of her away while she had breakfast. Stubbornly so.

But what now? On the one hand she both wanted and knew she had to check in on what had happened in her little town in her absence, and make sure that everyone else were safe and sound. On the other she dreaded what said everyone would have to say about her being gone for such a long time without previous warning.

Could archmages volunteer for watching the bed for, say, the rest of the day? Just to make sure nothing was broken or needed replacing after being out of use for a few months, maybe.

What if the citizens of Theramore would be to Jaina as the Forsaken had been to Sylvanas upon her return? Did Jaina really expect it to be that bad? Maybe not quite. But she couldn't be sure. Jaina had been gone far longer too. It hadn't been the entire Undercity being angry with Sylvanas but it had been many enough. What if there would be a throng of furious Theramorians gathering in the day once word leaked out that Jaina was back. She wasn't seriously worried about her personal safety – she had gotten (overly) used to relying on her own magic first and last in every situation – but hearing those kind of things, and knowing how some would very likely be justified…

It felt a little like her breakfast wanted to escape her belly now.

"My Lady?"

Jaina hummed something in return.

"If you have finished your breakfast I would strongly recommend that we go downstairs. There are a couple of visitors."

Here it came. Either she teleported away now or she was done for.

In other words she was done for.

Jaina nodded queasily. The fluttering moths in her stomach had been replaced by wyverns. At the very least.

She followed Pained down the stair to the bottom floor. It felt just like that time she was on her way to explain to Master Antonidas how she had wanted to try out a certain water conjuring spell and inadvertently flooded the library with all its expensive books. Whoever it was that had come calling was not waiting indoors at least. Jaina probably felt better about that fact but she hoped she wouldn't have come across as too inhospitable on top of everything else.

When Pained moved to open the sturdy front door she looked back at Jaina with affection. She was even smiling. Did that eccentric night elf look forward to see Jaina being torn apart (hopefully only figuratively)?

The moment the door opened there was silence.

Then a roar.

It was a wave of sound that swept through Jaina, the collected shouts and exclamations of at least several dozens Theramorians who did not look the slightest disgruntled but relieved and surprised and, if Jaina had not known better, unreservedly happy to see her.

"We have missed you." Jaina heard Pained mumble close to her ear, and wanted to cry of relief. Was this really true? Nobody who wanted to so much as shout at her? Not even a little bit?

Instead, a score of children were running towards her. Jaina knew most of them by name, but…how big they were! Then again, it had been a long time since she had regularly been out to meet people, even before the Forsaken spirited her away. It had been such a long and dreary time.

She raised her hands and snowflakes materialized and rained down over them, which led to everyone yawning widely trying to catch and eat the falling snow.

The crowd was so tightly clustered that it would be quite a feat to get anywhere, save by a rather impolite teleportation spell.

"Order! Make some space, good people! Let Lady Jaina pass."

A determined Theramorian lieutenant was making his way through the crowd with several other city guards in tow.

"Lady Jaina, you are a sight for sore eyes. Welcome back!"

"Lieutenant Hornblower, thank you. It's so good to see you again. Everyone." Jaina said to all who stood around her. "I don't know what to say, even."

"Everybody made it!" he boasted, and it took Jaina a blink to remember that he had been the one commanding the guard patrol that encountered Sylvanas and her rangers by the docks. "You got all our hides out but when we got our bearings and returned there was no sign of you, Lady Jaina! I swear we looked everywhere. What happened?"

"That, uh, is kind of a long story…" More than that Jaina did not manage to get out before a new wave of pleads and demands that she tell it overtook her. It took some time to restore some semblance of listening.

"Maybe this would be a good time to relocate to the city hall?" Pained suggested. "We can't stand and freeze on your doorstep indefinitely."

"City hall? It's finished?!" Jaina almost shouted.

"Yep." Pained sounded outright smug now. "And there is an impromptu delayed opening party scheduled just right now in fact, so we had better make our way there."

More than Pained appeared not a little pleased by Jaina's clear surprise and followed up with one piece of news after the other meant to astound an already overwhelmed archmage. The harbour was coming together steadily and by next spring they could accommodate a third more vessels if nothing unexpected happened. A local kind of kelp – of which the Dustswallow Marshes had plenty – had been found suitable for grinding and mixing with clay to bake bricks that may even prove stronger than ordinary ones. What would they think of next?

The city hall – it was indeed finished, Jaina noted with growing pride – was a long two-storey building of stone and wood in typical Lordaeronian fashion even though there was visible emphasis on windows and hatches in order to adapt to the Kalimdorian climate. The lower floor resembled that of a tavern, but far larger, with a kitchen in the further end where a couple of stairs led upwards. Jaina made a mental note to inspect the floor above later to make sure the ropes and rope ladders were also in place by the opposite end above the gate, added in case a fire would break out and blockade the stairs. The upper floor would house most of the city's administration and Jaina foresaw many coming hours of reading and writing by lamps and candles. She knew the territory.

There were benches here and there but far from enough for everybody. They looked very new and more would undoubtedly be made later. Jaina found herself led by Pained towards one next to the hearth furthest inside. The dozens of people – the hall was truly becoming packed – must have multiplied for there seemed to Jaina to be more like a couple of hundreds and they would have to open the windows even if it was late into the autumn in order to let in enough air for everyone. That was not all, for somehow someone had made heaps of food be brought inside. Loaves of bread, pieces of cheese, fruits and smoked fish. This was looking more and more deliberate by the minute and Jaina found herself casting an equally baffled and suspicious look at Pained.

"Would you happen to know how I managed to return to a hitherto unknown Theramorian festival, Pained?"

"I might have let slip that someone long expected was finally back, last night. I may even have wandered as far as down to the Gull and the Herring and mentioned off-handedly how we would probably need something to snack on today."

Theramore, like any proper port city, had taverns and foremost among them 'The Thieving Gull' (or 'The Screeching Gull', opinions differed of which was the correct name) and 'The Tusked Herring'.

"Oh, you didn't need to – "

"I beg to differ. Look around, how are your poor subjects going to last through an entire recounting of your adventures without provisions. An army listens on its stomach, isn't that how you humans put it?"

"Marches on its stomach."

"Anyway, you should be pleased. Because evidently I did other things than keeping watch by your bedside, correct?"

Pained looked so pleased with herself that Jaina had to smile back.

She had better say something to every Tides-blessed decent, generous Theramorian who had welcomed her home with open arms when she had felt sick fearing the scorn she expected. It was…it was so good being home right now, in their warm and sturdy new hall in their warm and sturdy little town.

"Ladies and gentlemen, everyone, thank you so much for coming here like this and thank you for not being angry with me for being away for so long. It was not intended to be for such a long time, or it was not intended at all actually."

Jaina would have liked to leave it at that and perhaps add some more reassurances that she would now get back to work as Theramore's archmage and catch up with the city's affairs.

Her audience – yes, her audience indeed and not just guests – did not have the same idea.

"What happened?"

"Were you kidnapped, Lady Jaina?"

"Were there dragons?"

"Was it the Horde?"

Jaina raised her hands pleadingly and looked even more pleadingly to Pained, but her bodyguard only gestured magnanimously for her to please go on and that the stage was hers. Jaina closed her eyes briefly and then resigned herself to her fate. She would not be getting out of this one, apparently.

"This is of course a rather long and somewhat complicated story, but I have in short been spending the time away with the Forsaken, who are the free undead that have broken away from the Lich King's domination…"

That was neither what her listeners had expected nor wanted to hear, Jaina could tell.

"I understand that this sounds downright insane, but I can attest that they are every bit their own and they are fighting bitterly against the Scourge across western Lordaeron. I have been helping them."

There were low murmurs across the hall, and dark glares. Not at Jaina personally, at least she hoped so, but more in response to the dark and looming subject of the fate of Lordaeron and the nightmare that they had left behind to chase a desperate hope on the other side of the oceans.

"Curse them all…"

"They can stay there and rot!"

"Better dead than undead…"

Jaina conjured a huge glittering snowflake that fell apart into sparks. It served no purpose other than to reclaim everyone's attention. Sometimes it paid to be really, really showy when casting spells.

"Please! Order!" Jaina called out and it took some time for the hall to settle down.

"Well, what are they like then?" The voice of the inquirer was gruff and unwilling.

"They are like us." Jaina let it sink in before she continued. "They are those who didn't make it out from Lordaeron and Dalaran and Quel'thalas. Men, women, old, young, rich or poor. Anyone could have eaten the plague-infested grain or been claimed by the Scourge. We escaped that fate. They didn't."

Not a sound was heard in response.

"Many of the Forsaken are withered dead and terrifying to look at, but inside they are ordinary people having escaped one nightmare only to wake up to another one that is an existence as undead without a friend in the world. Some of them are kind, some are not. Some are spiteful. Some are generous."

Some give the most thoughtful gifts and sit up all night to make sure you will not freeze when you sleep.

"There are those who undeath treated very unkindly, who are withered and decrepit, and there are those who are nearly whole. On the outside, at least. They…the Lich King forced them to do his bidding. We all know that and we all know what that entailed. It is my impression that every Forsaken remembers at least partly their actions as his slaves."

They suffer like I can not even imagine and how anyone can hold themselves together after something like that will never cease to astound me.

"I think…I think that in order to understand the Forsaken my first advice is to not overcomplicate anything. They have, for lack of a better term, woken up to a world ready to reject them at every turn. Their queen sent emissaries to neighbouring kingdoms that were shot on sight. They had no way of letting anyone know that they were no longer Scourge."

"They have a queen? What, a Lich Queen?" someone said sceptically.

"No! Not at all, she is a Banshee Queen in fact…"

And she is, she is… Aaah! She is a complete bloody disaster that I want nothing more to do with and that is that! She is a cold-hearted and uncaring manipulative piece of filthy lies that only makes you think she gives a damn about you!

"She is called Sylvanas Windrunner and she – "

At least three benches toppled over when elven occupants stood up in distress.

" – and she used to be the Ranger-General of Quel'thalas before she was killed and turned into a banshee. There are some others like her and they are…they are all acutely aware of what they are and what they were made to do…"

Anya.

Clea.

Kitala.

Lyana.

"Even…even banshees can be kind, despite that. That goes for all the Forsaken. They are not what the Lich King made them into. Not only. They are people again, not mindless monsters. The queen crossed the sea in search of new allies and came here. She encountered our city guard who mistook her escort for Scourge – understandable – and I intervened and managed to prevent a disaster but lost consciousness from the strain. Then I woke up onboard her ship…"

Where she had probably stood guard next to me just like Pained would. And she was angry when I was repulsed by Captain Bones but somehow she calmed me afterwards and when I tried again to do better she let me, and then she spared no effort keeping me fed and warm as best she could for the entire journey.

"…we crossed the sea back to Lordaeron and I came to assist the crew with navigation and some water magics when the wind died…

And we became friends and she and her rangers were so kind to me and she saved my life and I saved her city, and we…

"…we have been in the field for the better part of over a month I think, and managed to push the Scourge back and clear a path to Dalaran even, and the Forsaken and the Kirin Tor have begun negotiations…"

And I betrayed your trust and you betrayed mine. And it tainted that moment that should have been our finest and I would have left you then and there if it had not been for Anya.

Anya!

She wanted us to mend it. Fix it. She put so much on the line and I honestly thought I approached you respectfully that night and that you would also want to talk. And instead you spoke…what did you say to me? That I meant nothing to you, like the necklace? How could you?! How could you bloody damn mean something like that, you incomprehensible fucking ghost?!

The cloth in front of her had dark stains now.

With each new tear that dropped another unseemly black splotch formed on the clean – mostly – and clear white.

Anya couldn't help it.

What did it matter anyway?

Nothing mattered any more.

Jaina was gone.

Jaina's warmth. Jaina's kind eyes. Jaina's laughter.

Jaina's heartbeat, that was the safest sound Anya knew next to Sylvanas' voice, but fuck stupid damned Sylvanas right now because she had ruined everything and Anya didn't want to think about her anymore!

Jaina had kissed her.

Soft and gentle and lovely so that Anya stopped herself from crying in wondrous surprise, even if Anya knew that Jaina would just have kissed her again if she had been crying.

Jaina's lips. She had only felt them for the briefest time. She missed them like it was a hole that had been dug out somewhere inside her.

It was all gone. The only thing that was left was her sack of clothes. And her slippers that she hadn't got to use nearly as much as she should have. And the poor shirt in Anya's hands that Anya couldn't put down or let go of.

Something tugged at her awareness. Someone who was knocking on the open door.

A gentle voice.

"Are you here? All alone?"

Obviously she was here because she was sitting here and nowhere else. Damn it.

Lyana. Flanked by Clea and Kitala. No one would let her be apparently.

"Go away!"

"Anya – "

"Pick a new squad leader, I don't care any more! I don't care!"

"Pull another one." Clea tried to sound cocky but it was truly a pathetic try.

"You do care." Kitala's turn. "You care so much so of course it hurts."

"Leave! Leave me alone!"

"Anya. Did you ever leave me alone when I was in pain?" Lyana now, too? "If so I must have fainted at those times. What kind of ranging partner could leave the other on her own now? What sort of person would that make me?"

"A monster! Like all of us! A wretched, stupid, fucking monster who should just have stayed dead!"

Anya stubbornly turned her gaze away. Away from everything and everyone.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me that you truly meant that."

Anya did not look her in the eyes. She did not look at anything.

"Not – " Couldn't they just disappear? All of them, together, so none had to hurt any more. "Not you."

"Not you either, Anya. Not you either. Not any of us."

"Then why do we do these things?!" Anya screamed.

She burrowed deeper into the cold – empty – white linen. Somewhere inside it Anya still imagined that some little scent of Jaina lingered.

Cyndia and her squadron had returned to a city of ghosts. Like, not in the literal and obvious way but in the poetic and metaphorical one. The free undead were themselves…haunted. And afraid to go out at night. Or day, it appeared.

Someone had apparently lost their shit completely, the Dark Lady was nowhere to be seen, and their archmage was gone.

Great.

Home sweet home.

Was it so surprising that Cyndia had never liked the Undercity?

The thing was, on top of everything, that they returned with really damned decent news for a change and now there was no one bothering to greet them and hear it. When, for just once, you came back with something less than pitch black darkness including the true deaths of an unspecified number of people, a little bit of an audience wouldn't be out of place. She would even take a pair of bored dreadguards in a pinch.

The Kirin Tor had got their beards out of their armpits, or whatever was the proper jibe for human wizarding tardiness. There had been a delegation, or more like one wizard and his obviously superfluous guard detail that mostly managed to look uncomfortably around while the odd fellow introduced himself with irreverent ease. Not even Kalira's sternest look managed to faze him.

Try as she might to keep an open mind, Cyndia could not help thinking that Rhonin Redhair somehow didn't look quite like a Kirin Tor wizard was supposed to. He had no white beard, and it was not very long either, but on the other hand he had a great deal of hair and all of it as red as a fox in a sunset. Then he had the gall to appear completely unafraid and just as stubbornly curious as Jaina about everything around him. Not even a small yelp. That had to violate the professional pride of the dark rangers in some way.

But Cyndia couldn' deny that Rhonin had proven to be undeniably charming. Even Kalira had thawed up – and she had very obviously been painstakingly trying to make a good impression on their supposedly potential allies too, which was absolutely hilarious to observe – before long. Before much longer than that, the archmage had – for real – engaged Velonara in a spirited and completely serious discussion about the theoretical applications of polymorphing enchantments on arrows, after Kalira let drop how Vel' had wanted to misuse Jaina's staff at first opportunity.

Cyndia had to admit that the thought of Scarlet knights turning into sheep after a volley had its charms.

The Kirin Tor would be with them. Not as an army, maybe not even side by side on the battlefield. But they would not be enemies.

And with Dalaran, the Forsaken would have a secure stronghold to anchor their front on, maybe even to make use of as a base for their operations in time, and better than that they would have a voice to speak for them in the rest of the Alliance.

Rhonin talked exciredly about portals and portal anchors and a load of other things that begged for someone scholarly to be there to listen to it. Cyndia didn't get half of the highbrowed explanations but anything that meant more of the marvellous portals Jaina had supplied was a sure win in her book. As a final treat, Rhonin had opened one of them for the squadron to step right back outside the capital to report the developments to Sylvanas.

And now they were here, Kalira had ran off in search of their Dark Lady and Cyndia and the rest had been given some time for themselves. The next minute they had met Lyana on the way to the apothecary and tagged along to hear one piece of lousy news after another.

Velonara and Lyana were talking insistently ahead of her and Cyndia was droppig back to hear what the other 'Naras thought about the state of things.

"People were always weird down here but this is insane…" Neither Lenara nor Cyndia were great fans of the Undercity.

"Yeah…serious graveyard vibes." Nara looked around. "We should scout this out, try to find some other squadron and get us up to speed."

"Sounds good. I'm gonna stick with Vel'. Vel', are we going somewhere?"

"The dungeons." Velonara answered immediately.

The dungeons. This was getting weirder and weirder.

Cyndia shrugged.

Lyana was soon done with whatever purchase she was supposed to make and led them out to the surface again and through the Lordaeron Keep down to the lower levels. Cyndia grimaced. Marginally better than the crowded city but still…kind of cramped.

"What's the hurry?" Cyndia asked. Lyana wasn't usually an impatient ranger but the three of them were close to running through the ruins and the keep's corridors.

"You'll see." Velonara answered in her stead.

Cyndia hadn't had the opportunity to go down into the lower levels of the building for quite some time, and it was just as well in her opinion. These circular stairs led down to storage rooms, and guard rooms, and the dungeons. Fortunately the magically warded ones were not completely below ground and small trickles of sunlight from barred narrow shafts set high in the walls.

They passed one open door leading to a deserted room, and one more, and then into one that was not deserted.

There was a small tent set up with a barrel and a couple of buckets next to it. A couple of bedrolls were spread out by the other wall. Someone had obviously lived here.

Now no one lived here but three dejected rangers who haunted the cellar together with Lyana.

They looked seriously worse for wear.

Clea and Kitala were glumness given elven form. Anya was even worse. She was, well…wrong, where she sat and hugged a white shirt that Cyndia after some thought would guess had been Jaina's. It was pitiful to look at.

Cyndia had always found Anya Eversong easy to like since Velonara liked her so much. They were an odd sort of best friends. While Cyndia knew perfectly well how Velonara could be pure steel through and through when the situation called for it, Anya tended to strike you as just a little too scrawny sometimes. It wasn't that she was malnourished in any way - she and Vel' were of almost identical height and size – but maybe something about her demeanour more than her stature. But Anya was still a ranger lieutenant and however she did it she had managed her own squadron for a long time and done it good as far as Cyndia had heard.

The thing with Anya was that she always had her eyes on everyone around her on some level. She really saw you when she looked at you, in some vaguely put platitude-like way.

Yes, that was what was most out of place here. Anya just ignoring everything around her. In favour of a rumpled old shirt.

Well, in all fairness, Cyndia guessed she shouldn't say anything about not being too talkative about…stuff. Velonara had acquired a good deal of experience having clams for friends lately.

Better than having clammy friends at least. Probably.

Vel' had sat down and started whispering with Anya, or to her it looked like. Cyndia supposed she ought to sit down too. This would take a while.

Frankly, it could take as long it had to for all Cyndia cared. Anya was alright, scrawny or not. What words from Vel' would get through to her was more than Cyndia could think of, though.

"Do you remember when we first met? You were crying that time too. And I told you that I had packed booze and a hug." Anya made some sound that only came out as a sniff. "I only brought a hug this time."

Anya clamped down harder on herself in response, wrapped tight into a stiff and hard stone figure that let nothing close. Velonara would have none of it though.

"We all miss her like it hurts. Of course we do." She was sitting down in front of Anya and resolutely grabbing hold of all of her, and Anya had bundled herself up so tightly that she couldn't do anything but topple over when Velonara pulled her closer. "I can't believe she could even be gone just like that. It's terrible! Anya, babe, you poor thing!"

"Leave." Anya sobbed and clawed harder at herself. For all the stupendously horrifying things Cyndia had borne witness to, she still winced at the sight of quiet, gentle Anya digging her nails into her legs so hard that it made her tremble, undead or not.

"Never. You're my bestest friend." Velonara was mumbling into her ear. "You can Wail until my ears fall off for all I care. Not leaving."

With one hand on either cheek, Velonara carefully pried Anya's face free from her knees and tilted it up towards her own. Cyndia could only see a mess of pale hair when Vel' was leaning down over her friend.

"Sooner or later there will be a spring. Then I know someone who will want to set sail with the Banshee's Wail." Anya twitched when she said that. "And I know someone who will want to come along."

Anya whimpered in her arms.

"We made the crossing once, on our own, with no magic admiral to help us. Now Captain Bones has all her notes and charts and stuff. We can be in Theramore in no time, or in a month if that is what it takes. We don't need to be bothered with rotting fishes and stuff after all."

"We…c-could g-go…"

"Always. I'll follow you and look for Jaina as soon as the storms pass. I promise." Cyndia could hear that Vel' smiled as she said it. Damn. Some mad seaside adventure it would have to be then, if that was what Vel' said it would be. Because there was not a chance that Cyndia would let them be separated again.

"But for now, should we pack Jaina's things for her? Perhaps we could send them to her in Theramore in advance. So she doesn't have to freeze through the winter."

Anya mumbled something that sounded like an 'alright'.

"I mean, it wouldn't do to make the people of Theramore think we dark rangers nicked her knickers, would it?"

Cyndia sighed and closed her eyes. Anya probably showed some similar reaction judging by the gleeful follow-ups of Velonara.

"At least we didn't snitch her snatch…"

"Ve-el'!" Cyndia had to smile at how Anya groaned. "That's rude and it doesn't make any sense at all."

"Hm, you sure? That's a relief. We wouldn't want them to think we snatched away their archmage last summer…"

Velonara grinned incorrigibly. On the other side Cyndia could see even Clea and Kitala trying hard to keep a straight face too.

"Does she have her ranger pants with her? Otherwise we are looking into a veritable hose-heist. Or since she is a mage maybe it becomes more like a robe-ery?"

Velonara, the most foul-mouthed and irredemable troublemaker of her generation. The most annoying, insufferable and altogether marvellous ranging partner you could ever wish for, that Cyndia would trade for nothing.

Jaina's day had certainly been eventful. Going over her stay with the Forsaken in satisfactory detail had taken all morning. If not for the fact that not even arcanely blessed cities did not run themselves she would likely have ended up storytelling twice as long. After that she had been promptly summoned by her actual council which had been no less enthusiastic and fervent in their demand for another retelling of the events since late in the summer. Jaina however had given as good as she got in that regard and interrogated them about the slightest detail of every development of Theramore in her absence with seldom seen vigour. How much they had managed!

Master Carpenter Oddricht had insistently offered her so many candied cherries that Jaina half feared her teeth would fall out and a cherry tree would sprout from her belly the coming spring. But they were tasty.

She could not leave the graceful taverns without a sincere thanks for the prodigious breakfasts they had provided and of course there were patrons who only waited to cheer for her return and be regaled with even more tales of her adventures – the wilder and more embellished the better.

Jaina did not have the heart to deny them and she found herself mostly swept up by the good mood. But it was an undeniable fact that her adventures were centred on a specific small group of people and chiefly one person that she would have liked to keep her thoughts away from no matter how impossible it proved.

Sylvanas Bloody Windrunner.

Later in the evening Jaina found herself restlessly pacing back and forth, attempting to read a book, or beginning her catching up of civic affairs, or anything else than thinking of the banshee queen. Consistently without success.

Jaina would not let Sylvanas' behaviour damn the Forsaken. The people were not their queen and were not to blame for her hurtful and outrageously insulting ways. She had decided upon that from the beginning and kept her account as free of personal biases as she could. Just, even when she tried to stay objective and focus on the facts and the events and nothing more…it saddened her. Saddened and angered her something terrible.

They had done so much together. And…and for lack of a more proper term, they had had so much fun even in the middle of everything that was tragic and terrible in Lordaeron.

Sylvanas had been so unbelievably kind and caring at times. She had known exactly what to say or do to make Jaina feel better.

Then everything had been ruined because Jaina could not stand the thought of Sylvanas becoming the tyrant she was – in the worst case – prepared to be for her people's sake. And since then no one had been truly happy.

They had been at it again when Jaina left, hadn't they? Jaina doing something rash, Sylvanas being angry, Anya trying to save the situation.

Oh, Tides, Anya…

Jaina had left without so much as a goodbye to anyone and least of all Anya. How terrible.

She could see the logical chain of events leading to that and still not be overly inclined to blame herself for reacting the way she had. Not really.

But how terrible it felt, still.

Damn you, you insufferable, uncouth walking dead…ruffian!

Jaina had more important and constructive things to busy herself with than fretting over vain and futile what-ifs.

What-ifs were dangerous things.

What if something was not what it seemed?

What if there could be an explanation that Jaina did simply not fathom?

What if she could have talked to her rangers before opening that portal home?

What if she had said goodbye to Anya if nothing else?

What if by some wonder everything could one day become good again?

What if that thick-skulled Banshee Queen could have the decency to apologise for being a stuck-up, rude, inconsiderate ass whose behaviour was so aggravatingly hard to reconcile with her personality as Jaina had previously come to know it?

Jaina suddenly quit her pacing and marched resolutely towards her desk. She was both fuming and fretting when she took out a fresh sheet of paper and uncorked the bottle of ink. She would do the responsible thing and inform the ruler of the Forsaken that she was back in Theramore. And then she would give said ruler a good piece of her mind.

Writing her thoughts down did her good. Jaina sighed as she mentally discarded a good deal of colourful but less clear and coherent expressions. She was a head of state with a far-reaching responsibility to her people and to Azeroth at large.

She was also mightily cross with the recipient.

Sylvanas,

I write to tell you that I am back in Theramore. And in one piece I should likely add since there are ample reasons why teleportation spells over long distances are neither recommended nor regularly employed.

I also write to say that I have, to the best of my ability, spoken the truth to you. I have not told you everything about everything regarding me as you are well aware of, to ruinous consequence for us both.

I therefore wish to say that I also write because against my better judgement I am unable to let go of what you said to me during our last conversation. There is a small part of me beneath the greater part that feels hurt and disappointed, that can not stop itself from questioning how you acted. What was it truly that I witnessed when you sat looking at me like a living person at a ghost instead of the other way around, and with the greatest effort could only manage the barely coherent insults of a dead drunk dockside thug? I do after all know exceedingly well that you do not want for eloquence when riled.

As the ink of the words above is already drying there is no reason to omit that I am lastly enormously angry with you and I suppose that I write to tell you that as well. If what you said to me was indeed what you meant and intended to, then I do no longer know you and I do not think I will ever want to. And if the annoying hunch that will not leave me be should prove to somehow be more than a hunch, then I am quite possibly even more angry with you in ways that I lack the words to properly convey.

I bid you a good night, as that is the current time in Theramore though it will likely not be in Lordaeron.

Jaina Proudmoore

When she was finished it was dark outside and late in the evening.

"Pained?"

"Yes?"

"Why are people so stupid sometimes?"

Pained thought about it for a moment, or possibly she was gauging Jaina's mood.

"I honestly think it is the feeble noses."

"The…? What?"

"Beasts can just smell what the issue is about, plain and simple. People need to talk it over all the time and mess it up by not saying what they are truly thinking."

Jaina let out a huffed laugh.

"I frankly can't argue with that. But then, you night elves are more or less feral so you should know." Jaina added cheekily.

"You do not know half of it, My Lady." Pained said and grinned just like that, ferally. "GROARR."

Pained would probably make a really fine frostsaber.

Joking like this made Jaina think of the other night elves, and miss them. There were so many people she hadn't seen in months and now she found herself longing for all of them. Malfurion and Tyrande in particular.

"I think…I feel like…I don't know what I feel like. Foolish. Probably. I feel like thinking of second chances. That's the thing." Pained looked questioningly at the only a little bit cluttered couch, made from two very packed chests with a lot of blankets stacked on top. They sat down there together. "At what point is it the right thing to do to say 'no!' for the final time?"

It was a rhetorical question Pained did not answer.

"It is easy to be right about things when you are safe and secure in your own home, that isn't on the verge of extinction. That isn't death and grief and terror and Tides-damned madness all around!"

"Not one year ago your own – our own – home was not safe at all." Pained pointed out calmly. "And even if you had not already suffered through enough grief and terror yourself to last you centuries I could not be more relieved that you are back in it."

"Not everyone gets to go home. Or has a home to return to. And what does that do to you?"

"Lady Jaina, is this one of those times when you…want me to omit your titles even more than you usually do?"

"That was very smoothly put."

"Are you debating whether the other persons that are strongly on your mind should be given a second chance, or whether or not you should?"

That was really an uncomfortable question to ask and it left Jaina thoughtful and not answering.

"I do know very little about what happened while you were gone and I can only speak of what I have seen…"

"Do go on. Please."

"I saw you come back through magical means that even I recognise were the fruit of either prodigious advancement or great desperation, crying like rain and upset. I understand that you are deeply and personally hurt. But I also see how good and hale you look, the healthiest I have seen you ever since last winter before the miseries begun."

Jaina looked down over herself and nodded. Pained was not wrong. She winced at the difference.

"I am not your parent, Jaina – not that I think it would make you listen more to my advice –"

Jaina smiled amusedly at her but Pained had stopped herself abruptly and darkened.

"I apologise. I should not have brought the subject up. Please forgive my inconsiderate manners."

Jaina swallowed. She felt no ill will towards Pained, it was just…just… Being back in Theramore and talking about the past year, with Pained, it was different than ordinary talk about someone's lost parents. But she refused to let it ruin their conversation. She refused. She had to learn to face what had happened or it would never get better.

Face your fears, Lady Proudmoore. Know them, or they will always hold you in their grip.

Unbidden, even here Sylvanas' words echoed clearly in her mind. Echoing in more ways than one, of course. While they made perfect sense, it made Jaina irritated.

Get out of my head, you conceited banshee. I am busy being angry with you!

"There is nothing to forgive. I – we – have to be able to talk freely." Pained still looked regretful but Jaina moved on before she had the chance to dwell any more on what she had said. "I think you would probably make a nice mother in fact. So long as you don't make fish soup. And as for your question, I can not say for sure. It is a good question."

"Then I can only suggest you sleep on it and send this letter tomorrow at least."

"You're probably right. It will have to be tomorrow night then since I wrote good night in the letter. Good night, Pained."

"Good night. Oh, and Lady Jaina?" Pained turned around by the door and looked somehow more firmly at her.

"Yes?"

"First, no running off anywhere on your own no matter what ships moor outside our harbour, young lady. Secondly, stay in the den, my cub."

"I promise. For now."

Pained rolled her eyes but smiled all the same.

Freezing cold drifts of rain covered both ground and sky in its murky grey haze and battered against anything unwise enough to be outside. Winds almost approaching a gale threatened to take these anythings in their hand and throw them wildly about in any and all directions across Lordaeron.

"Are we climbing, Master Blacksilver?"

"Sinking."

"Do we need to drop weight?"

"No, the engines are on their last leg. I am keeping us steady to let the wind carry us with it for as long as possible. I don't think we can count on having enough in reserve to make it worth to land and refuel. Better make our last drops count for as much as possible."

"In this storm any landing may prove to be our last regardless. How are you holding up in the front seat?"

"Freezing. We should have bought scarves for ourselves too."