It was a few hours later when Hytharion began writing down notes, eager to attempt a new spell he'd spotted in his book. Cursing his nearsightedness as his glasses slid down his nose for the fifth time since he had started, he set them aside and resorted to squinting at the words. Delania sat at the table in the kitchen, busy with her own work. Kalira sat on the couch reading a book detailing various spells, always fascinated by anything involving magic, and Maxian sat on the floor playing with a stuffed red dragon missing one of its yellow button eyes. Just as he was about to head upstairs to his practice room to try it out, there was a knock at the door. Kalira leapt off the couch, rushing to answer it. "Ah, ah, Kally, what have we told you about answering the door when you don't know who it is?" Hytharion chided as he set his things down.

She skidded to a halt before the door, nearly falling over. "But I'm older now! I can fight off an attacker!"

He chuckled. "That's what I thought, Firebug," he said, wiggling his metal fingers as he held his hand up. Her eyes widened for a moment, and he chuckled as she scurried back to the couch.

"Want me to get that, Love?" Delania called from the kitchen.

"It's okay, it's probably for me anyway." Hytharion set down his things and let out a sigh as he headed to the door. His days off were rarely days off for long. It was usually something the Kirin Tor required of him, though it had gotten better now that the city was not under constant risk of attack from the Legion. There was also the occasional mishap from foolish students he was asked to fix, though. Sometimes, it was something minor like thawing someone who had trapped themselves in an iceblock, and other times, it was something more serious like rescuing someone who had accidentally teleported themselves, or worse, someone else, inside a wall. While not a teacher himself, the students found him the least intimidating of the Archmages due to his age. It probably helped that he was also known to be the most lenient with his punishments.

He opened the door and stared at his brother in shock. His long, raven hair was tied back in a messy tail, and his neatly trimmed facial hair had a few white hairs under his lip. His eyes, formerly a bright sky blue, now glowed gold with the power of the Light. He was muscular with broad shoulders but also quite lithe. Plain, silver plate armour covered him from shoulder to toe, and the tabard of the Argent Crusade covered his breastplate. A black cloak covered his shoulders and draped most of his left side. Suddenly dizzy, Hytharion stumbled back slightly and gave a shout of pain as he stepped down too hard on his still-healing leg.

Baladir grabbed his hand as he was about to fall. "Woah, careful, little brother."

Delania poked her head out of the kitchen, looking concerned. "Are you okay, Love?

"Uh... y-yeah, just, uh, just give me a minute, I-I'll be right back." He pushed Baladir aside as he stepped out and closed the door. "Anar'alah belore," he muttered as he stared down at the ground, wide-eyed. His chest felt tight, and he rubbed his eyes as his heart pounded in his head. The grief he'd felt earlier vanished, replaced by relief and excitement but also anger and confusion. He wanted to hug him but also punch him. He thought he missed his brother, thought he wanted to see him again, but now that he was really here...

"You alright, 'Tharion?"

Hytharion shuddered. That nickname only brought him sadness. "Don't call me that," he said quietly, looking up at him. "What are you doing here, Baladir?"

"Alright, alright, sorry," Baladir said, frowning. "Good to see you too. Can we talk inside?" His voice was stronger and more commanding than he remembered it being, yet it was still comforting and kind. It reminded Hytharion much of his father's.

Hytharion shook his head as he leaned back against his house. "Baladir, you left without a word over ten years ago. I thought you were dead. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't use you as the target for a new spell I wish to try. Thori shindu!" Recalling the words, he conjured a glowing, violet ball of Arcane magic that crackled with power and gripped it tightly in his left hand, the tingle of the magic in his palm strangely somewhat calming. He would never use such a spell outside of self-defence, but imagining Baladir flying through the air amused him.

Baladir stepped back slightly, glancing nervously at magic. "Please, I'm sorry, I really am, but I came to talk to you about Falaria."

Hytharion immediately straightened, the magic disappearing as he closed his fingers around it. "What? What about her? What's wrong?"

"She's fine, she's fine, at least as far as I know," Baladir quickly assured. "I'll explain the situation if you let me inside."

As far as he knows? Hytharion frowned as he narrowed his eyes at him. "Fine," he sighed. He went inside, and Baladir stepped in after him, having to duck slightly to get through the door.

Delania had come out of the kitchen to keep an eye on the kids while he was gone. She looked up, smiling, but it faded as she noticed his change in mood. "What's wrong, Love? Who is this?"

"Uhh, yeah... Bal, this is Delania, my wife," Hytharion said, gesturing to her. "Lani, this is my brother." He briefly gestured to Baladir before letting his hand fall heavily. Sighing, he headed back to his desk to retrieve his glasses.

"Pleased to meet you, Delania," Baladir said, bowing slightly.

Delania raised an eyebrow as she crossed her arms. "I've heard much about you."

Baladir scratched the back of his head, chuckling nervously. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"I'll let you decide."

"Uncle Bandolir!" Kalira shouted excitedly, running up to him and tapping on the plate armour. Baladir peered down at her and smiled as he crouched down. "Papa said you were dead. You kinda look dead. Are you a zombie? How old are you? I bet you're a thousand years old! I bet you can't guess how old I am! Why does your face look weird? Ooh, ooh, wanna see how fast I can run?"

Maxian also came over and stared up at him, hugging his stuffy tightly. "You look scary."

Baladir laughed a little. "I don't mean to look scary. Sorry about that." He cocked his head as he looked at Maxian and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I sense the Light in you, little guy. I think you have potential." Maxian frowned and ran to hide behind his mother.

"Yeah, good way to bond with your nephew," Hytharion muttered as he finished organizing his notes and put his glasses on.

Ignoring him, Baladir turned his attention back to Kalira. "You sure have a lot of questions."

"Ooh, I have more!" she said, jumping up and down excitedly. "Why do-"

"Whoa, whoa, no time to answer them all, Sweetheart," he chuckled, interrupting her before she could ask a million more questions. "To answer a couple though, I am still very much alive, at least as far as I can tell, and I'm only ten years older than your dad."

Kalira looked up at her father in amazement as he came back over. "Woah! I didn't know you were that old, Papa!"

Baladir glanced up at him, amused. Hytharion sighed again as he rubbed his eyes. "Why don't you guys go to the park for a bit? Uncle... Bandolir, was it? He and I need to talk alone for a while." He looked to Delania pleadingly, and she nodded.

"Come on, I'll take you to see Akazamzarak's magic show," she said as she took both kids' hands and led them to the door. She went to him for a moment. "Try not to hurt him?" she whispered as she leaned in to kiss him.

"No promises," he muttered as he kissed her back. She gave his shoulder a slight squeeze, then left with the children.

Baladir stood, smiling. "My wife and I are expecting our first any day now. I-"

Hytharion interrupted him with a scoff. "Pff, some father you'd be." He shook his head and began to pace. His metal foot on the floor was the only sound in the room as Baladir watched him. He stopped, frowning at his silence. "Could you stop just watching me like that? Fucking say something, damn it! It's been almost thirteen years since I saw you. I thought you were dead, Bal. Now you show up out of nowhere, and I'm just supposed to be okay with that?"

"No, no, I wasn't expecting you to be," Baladir said quietly. "I was just trying to give you time to calm down first."

Hytharion glared at him. "I'm not going to calm down unless you start doing some explaining, Baladir. Speak." He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and prosthetic foot over the other and looked at him expectantly. It was Baladir's turn to pace now, his plate armour clanking slightly. Hytharion sighed. "So you come here to talk but don't know what to say?" Baladir kept pacing, looking as if he were going to say something several times but never did. Hytharion let out an annoyed sigh and rolled his eyes. "Why don't we start with something easy? You became a paladin, I assume?"

"Yes..." Baladir muttered distractedly.

"I expected a little more than that, dumbass."

Baladir glanced sharply at him. "I hope you don't speak to your family like that."

"No, only shitty siblings."

"Anar'alah, Hytharion, I..." He sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry. I thought I knew what to say... but yes, I'm a paladin. Right now, I'm a general in the Argent Crusade, stationed at Light's Hope in the Plaguelands since the Cataclysm. Before the Crusade, I was with the Argent Dawn and, briefly, the Scarlet Crusade."

Hytharion raised an eyebrow. "Really? The Scarlets?"

"Very briefly, I assure you. I'm not proud of it."

"And really? A general? They must really be running low on men for them to give you anything higher than outhouse shit shoveler."

There was an edge to Baladir's voice as he glared at him. "I've proven my worth many times over, brother."

"Uh-huh. One more question, though. I searched those orders. I looked everywhere I possibly could, and I couldn't even find a trace of you. What's up with that?"

Baladir grimaced at that question, and it was several seconds before he answered. "I... I changed my name. I didn't want you to find me."

Hytharion stood again, his hurt and disbelief clear on his face. "...What? Bal, I... I searched for you for years! You were content to let me think you were dead!?"

"I..." Baladir looked away. "I haven't been brave enough to face you. I knew you and Fal would be disappointed when I left.

"Disappointed it the understatement of the century, Bal." He shook his head. "Disappointed..." he scoffed. He crossed his arms again and let himself fall back against the wall. Silence filled the room as he waited for Baladir to find his words.

Finally, Baladir looked back at him, his expression troubled. "Is the Kirin Tor aware of what the Horde has been up to lately?"

Hytharion was silent as he narrowed his eyes at his brother. Why is he bringing this up? I have no doubt that Falaria is with them... "We know the Horde is marching on Silithus. The Council has felt the power of Azerite and is concerned about its potential, so we're trying to keep as up-to-date as possible on anything concerning it. Why?"

Baladir sighed. "The plan to go to Silithus seems to have been a diversion to lead the bulk of the night elves' forces away from their lands. They changed course in the Barrens and headed toward Ashenvale. With so little resistance, they swept through the forest in a mere two days. They entered Darkshore yesterday, and they're moving quickly.

Hytharion shook his head in disappointment. I knew the truce between the factions probably wouldn't last long after the Legion's defeat, but it's only been two months since the Legion was defeated. What is she thinking? "Hmm. I didn't think Falaria would be interested in fighting the Alliance when she fought beside them so recently, even if it was Sylvanas ordering it. I don't see how that's my problem or yours, though." He held up a finger as Baladir frowned. "Don't look at me like that! Of course I worry about her, but she's more than capable of defending herself, and she's free to make her own decisions. Don't pretend like you suddenly care about her."

"Of course I care for her, I wouldn't be here if I didn't!" Hytharion rolled his eyes at that, and Baladir let out a frustrated sigh. "Please, Hytharion, just listen to me. I'm not concerned for her safety. I know she can protect herself just fine. It's the path she follows that I'm worried about. The banshee... her actions remind me of a terrible man that nearly slaughtered an entire kingdom..." He looked hesitant to say the name as if saying it would summon that which it belonged to despite him being long dead. He closed his eyes for a long minute before he shook his head. "You know who I mean."

Hytharion raised an eyebrow. "I don't trust her either, Bal, but don't you think that's a bit far? Yes, she's done some sketchy things, but Sylvanas is a hero. She died fighting that monster. Garrosh went into Ashenvale. I'm sure he would have kept going if he hadn't been stopped. Was he comparable to Arthas as well?"

"You're not understanding, Hythe. Yes, Sylvanas Windrunner -was- a hero, but she's gone now. Whatever possesses her body is no longer the noble soul who died defending our home. You think I'm exaggerating, but what differences do you see between her and the Lich King?" He became silent, and it wasn't until he gave him an expectant look that Hytharion realized it was an actual question. Falaria had told him once that she was present when the former Warchief of the Horde, Garrosh Hellscream, asked Sylvanas that exact question. She said Sylvanas's only answer had been that she served the Horde. Falaria had been somewhat disturbed by that answer, though it didn't stop her from continuing to follow her for long.

Surely, there's more to it than that, though. There has to be. Sylvanas can't really be that terrible, can she? "I think she cares for her people," he replied after a moment. "Maybe not for the Horde itself, but I believe she cares for the Forsaken."

Baladir furrowed his brow, stroking his beard as he paced. "Does she, though? If she's even capable, I don't think she cares for anyone but herself. The path she follows is one of darkness. She kills innocents, she has those val'kyr, former servants of the Lich King for Light's sake, go around and raise new undead... The truth is, there is little difference, if any at all. The banshee is following in his footsteps and is using the Horde, using Falaria, to further her goals. What those goals are, Light only knows, but I doubt they're anything benevolent."

He let out a heavy sigh. "I'm aware of some of the things she has done in the banshee's name, but I know she would never do those things if not for her. Back home, she was a fierce defender of the innocent, first and foremost! I -know- that part of her is still there somewhere! I -know- she wouldn't be in Darkshore if not for the banshee. He stopped before Hytharion, his golden eyes locked on Hytharion's as he placed a hand on his shoulder. "Please," he said quietly. "Find her. Steer her away from the banshee. Get her to see that her Ranger-General is long gone. Get her to see that the Banshee Queen and the Lich King are one and the same before... before she does something she regrets and comes to that realization on her own."

Hytharion shrugged off his hand and wandered away as he scratched at the tuft of hair on his chin. "I'll admit you bring a convincing argument," he muttered. "But..." He sighed. He's right. She wouldn't be there if not for Sylvanas. I know I'll regret not listening if something were to happen to her, but... she's plenty capable of protecting herself. She's capable of making her own choices. Why should I risk my life and career to make a most likely useless attempt to change her mind? "I'm not going," he said finally, shaking his head as he faced him again.

"Hytharion, please..."

"I've tried before, Balaidr, it didn't go well. You're the one that's so worried about it. Why don't you go?"

"Well, first of all," he began, sticking his thumb up to count, "I have no way to find her, but surely you know some sort of tracking spell?"

"...Yes."

"Secondly," he continued, lifting another finger, "I don't know how she would react if I came to her. I'm not sure if she would listen to me either, but-"

"Now that you mention it, probably not," Hytharion chuckled. "She hates you. She disowned you. I bet she keeps a painting of your face on her wall for target practice."

Baladir gave him a withering look. "Continuing on... I'm unsure if she would listen to me either, but you probably stand a better chance at getting through to her than I do. Lastly, my duties rarely allow me to be gone for long without my absence being noticed. If I were somehow discovered to be in Darkshore, it wouldn't look good, and if, Light forbid, I had to defend myself, I'd be punished severely, probably stripped of my rank if not outright banished."

Hytharion let out a deep, frustrated sigh. He stared at his brother for a long moment, shaking his head, his lips pursed, his thoughts racing. There were so many things he wanted to say, but finally, he turned his back to him as he headed to a window that allowed him to look at the roses in the small garden he kept. It brought back memories of planting flowers with his father in his garden and brought him comfort when he was anxious.

"Hytharion?"

"I can't just go off willynilly to Darkshore either. I'm an Archmage, Baladir. I would be risking my position in the Kirin Tor just as much as you would be yours in the Argent Crusade. You would know that if you took two fucking minutes in the last few years to come by and say, 'Oh hey, I'm alive, sorry I'm an asshole and left without saying a single fucking word.'" He turned his head, looking at him out of the corner of his eye. "Just... Just once." He turned back to the garden again, praying for Baladir to leave as he tapped his metal fingers on the window sill, the taps speeding up as his anxiety grew.

"You know invisibility spells, right? You could hide yourself if you got into trouble with night elves?"

Slivers of wood went flying as Hytharion slammed his fist into the sill and spun toward Baladir. "ARE YOU NOT HEARING ME? Yes, I could hide myself, but I'm not going! You can't just show up after all this time, pretend everything is fine, and start making demands. ENOUGH!" Aiming at the wall next to Baladir, he whipped a huge, razor-sharp icicle. Baladir gave a shout of alarm as he dove to the floor and covered his head. The icicle exploded on impact, sending sharp shards of ice flying in every direction. "GET OUT!"

Panting, his eyes wide, Baladir sat up and looked around at the scattered pieces of ice on the floor. It took a moment to compose himself and speak again. "H-Hytharion, please," he said as he got to his feet and brushed himself off. "I know you're angry, but if you love her, then you must do this! Falaria would throw herself from a cliff if Sylvanas asked her to. I'm begging you, convince her of her foolishness before she does so!"

"I love her, Baladir. Don't you fucking dare doubt that," Hytharion said, his voice shaking. "But if she refuses to think for herself, t-that is not my problem. You have no idea what I went through after you left. I'm done. I've done my share of saving her. You know what happened last time I did something as stupid as what you're asking me to do? I lost my hand and nearly died. I have a family now, I have kids that depend on me, I can't just go do whatever I want. Besides, if you haven't noticed, I'm not in the greatest shape to go traipsing off into the forest," he said as he tapped his metal foot on the floor. He chuckled slightly as he looked down, shaking his head. "Who am I kidding, though? Your head has been too far up your own ass to notice anything else. Now get out, or I promise you the next icicle won't be aimed at the wall."

"You think I don't remember holding you in my arms, terrified for your life?" Baladir whispered, visibly hurt. I wouldn't dare ask you to do this if I thought that could happen again. You're one of the most talented mages I've seen, Hytharion. You're an Archmage. You're good in a fight, and you're good at getting yourself out of tough situations. I've seen you."

"Oh bullshit, how would you know?"

"Because you haven't seen me, but I've watched you! I've seen you fight. In Northrend against the Scourge, against the black dragons during the Cataclysm, on the Broken Isles against the demons. Argus was the only place I've ever seen you lose a battle and not be able to get away! I-"

"You watched me on Argus?" Baladir's eyes widened for a moment before he looked away. Hytharion studied him for a long moment through narrowed eyes, crossing his arms and shifting his weight as a dull pain started to radiate through his leg. "Was it you who rescued me?"

"I had help," Baladir said quietly as he looked back at him. "I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to bring it up, but yes. I watched you on Argus. I'm sorry I couldn't get to you fast enough before they took you. I alerted the Kirin Tor and rallied a group to save you, but by then, you were gone. When you were finally found, I led the charge into their stronghold. 'Tharion, I..." He paused as his voice broke slightly, continuing after taking a moment to compose himself. "I hadn't felt that amount of fear in many years. When I saw what they did to you..."

He continued speaking, but his words became distant background noise to Hytharion as his mind flew back to that horrible week of pain and terror. He had been charged with leading a small scouting party to estimate the number of demons in one of their camps and report back. Just as they thought their mission was almost done and were about to leave, they were discovered and quickly attacked. They fought back but were severely outnumbered, and he watched as the others were taken down one by one. He managed to take down quite a few by himself, but eventually, he was defeated. When he came to, he and two other survivors, his friend Kamara and another man, Nyran, were in a Legion base. The chains that bound them allowed them to do no more than sit or stand, and the tight shackles were enchanted to constantly keep their mana drained.

He wasn't sure he would still be sane if it weren't for Kamara's optimism. The demons came to them frequently, torturing them both physically and mentally. After a while, they would offer a quick end to their suffering in exchange for information. He and Kamara denied them, but Nyran, unable to withstand the torture, gave them some of what they wanted. They stayed true to their word, and he was given a quick death in the form of a slice to his throat. There were many times he was close to giving in, but he always kept his family at the forefront of his thoughts and seeing their faces helped him resist. He escaped from his shackles multiple times, but every time, he was recaught, and the chains were tightened until he could barely move. On his last attempt, it took him a while, and he broke both his prosthetic arm and his wrist in the process, but he got out. He made a run for it, but it had been days since his capture, and the demons hadn't given them food or water. He nearly made it out, but tired, injured, and weak, they caught up just before he would have escaped. Fed up with his constant attempts, that was when they dragged him to the table...

"Hytharion!" He blinked and shook his head. Baladir had taken a step toward him, his face concerned. "I was calling you, and you didn't even react. Did you hear anything I was just saying? Are you okay?"

Hytharion's eyes darted around the room as it spun. "I..." He looked down at his leg and put his full weight on it. He cringed and let out a grunt of pain, but the pain helped him remind himself that he wasn't there anymore... or at least it usually did. His head began to ache. He looked down at his scarred wrist and pressed into it hard with his thumb. The bones were almost fully healed now, but pressing down hard enough made a dull pain travel up his arm. It usually helped to remind him that he wasn't chained any longer... Why wasn't it helping now? He took a deep breath as he covered his face with his hands. "Yes. No... No, I... I-I-I don't know..." He squeezed his eyes shut as the memories swarmed him. Are they really only memories? The ache in his head turned to searing pain. His heart pounded in his chest. Feeling lightheaded, he couldn't stop himself from swaying. He felt the shackles digging into his wrist again, the sting of whips on his back, the burning of a dagger being dragged across his chest. The sound of cackling demons surrounded him. "No... no, no, no!" Has it been an illusion this whole time? Has my life been a lie? How long have I really been here?

"Hytharion!"

He heard a distant whisper in the dark void around him, but he was distracted as he was suddenly slammed down onto a hard metal table and held down by horrifying demonic creatures. "NO!" he cried again as a familiar creature with too many teeth gave him a sadistic smile. It held up a huge, serrated knife as it cocked its head. "No, please! I won't escape again, I promise! No! NO, I- AGGHHHHHHH!" He screamed and writhed as the cruel creature began to saw through his leg. He struggled to break free of the demons' grip, but it was useless.

"'Tharion!" As the knife hit bone, the agony rendered him unable to breathe. The voice echoed again, but it was drowned out by the maniacal laughter of the demons. "'Tharion!" one of the demons holding him down shouted at him. He stared up at it, terrified and confused. Another on his other side put its hands on his shoulders and shook him, its fangs bared, its nails digging into his shoulders. "'Tharion! Wake up! Breathe!"

Hytharion gasped as he opened his eyes. His sight was blurred by tears as he sobbed and trembled. Looking around, he realized he was lying on the floor. His head throbbed, his shoulder ached, and his leg felt like it was on fire. "Breathe, 'Tharion, just breathe." He looked up at the terrifying face of a demon. A huge felhound stood behind him. The demon reached out to him. "Hey, are you-" Hytharion punched him in the face, causing him to shout in pain and surprise and stumble back. He attempted to scramble away but didn't get far before the demon recovered and leapt on top of him, pinning him down. "Stop, 'Tharion, you're okay!"

"N-No! Please, no more!" he sobbed, clutching his head. "I'll tell you whatever you want, please... p-please, just stop this!"

"Hythe, calm down," came a different voice. He risked opening one eye to glance in the direction of the voice. The demonic hound crouched down to look at him, yet as he stared at it longer, it turned into a young blue dragon, her long, toothy face full of concern.

"K-Kamara...?"

She nodded her horned head. "Like he said, you're okay."

"No! You aren't real, this isn't real!" His heart pounded in his ears, and he felt like it would explode at any second. "Please, stop this, please, please, please..."

The other demon turned him to look him in the eye, and as Hytharion stared at it, its face turned to that of his brother's. His eyes were full of heartbreak and concern, and a drop of blood ran down his chin as his split lip bled slightly. "'Tharion, it's me! Please trust me when I say you're not there anymore. You're in Dalaran, safe and sound." He set Hytharion against the wall and knelt before him.

"M-My brother is dead. I know this is an illusion. J-Just tell me what you want to know and kill me already."

"Damn it, 'Tharion, snap out of it!" Hytharion winced as Baladir roughly grabbed his wrist and turned it over to look at the scar. "Look at this," Baladir said. "You're not chained anymore. And this," he said, patting Hytharion's leg, "this wasn't here before." His voice became softer. "Remember that day in Silvermoon? That terrible day the Scourge broke through, and we had to run and hide in that dirty alley? I told you stories, 'Tharion. I held you as you slept and stayed awake for a week to make sure you were safe."

"Please..." The demons were master manipulators. They hadn't used the memories of his brother against him yet, but perhaps they were trying new tactics now.

Kamara cocked her horned head as she sat. "Remember when I said to think positively? Do that!"

Baladir glanced back at her in annoyance. "I thought your kind were supposed to be wise."

She frowned. "I thought you mortals liked thinking positively," she retorted, a plume of smoke blowing from her nostrils as she huffed at him. She looked back at Hytharion. "What would convince you?" She transformed into her visage form, a night elf wearing blue robes. She had small, black, curled horns jutting from her teal hair. He looked at her clawed nails warily as she offered her hand to him. They're very committed. He glanced at Baladir - or what looked like him, at least - noticing that he was staring. Hytharion looked down, scared to see the terrible, sadistic maliciousness he could see if he looked into their eyes for too long.

"'Tharion, look," came Baladir's voice, firm yet gentle. "Please." When Hytharion reluctantly glanced in his direction again, he shrugged off his cloak, and it took a moment for Hytharion to figure out what that was supposed to do. Looking around, he finally realized. Baladir's left arm was a prosthetic, though unlike Hytharion's, it appeared to be his entire arm. He offered his hand to him. Staring at it for several moments, Hytharion gave it a quick, cautious poke. He gasped slightly, his eyes widening. Shakily, he skimmed his fingers along the forearm, down the wrist, and to the fingertips, feeling the magic that permeated it. Arcane?

"Please, listen to me." His voice shook slightly, and his eyes shone. "It was during the war against the Lich King. We were getting close to breaking down the walls of Icecrown Citadel. There were catapults on the walls throwing boulders. I admit I don't have much memory of that day. I only remember someone shouting to get down. When I woke up, I was told I'd been struck by one of the boulders." He chuckled a little, shaking his head. "They said I was alive because it just grazed me. Most of my bones were broken. My arm was crushed and couldn't be saved. It took a long time to recover, but aside from a few aches and pains here and there, I'm good now." He looked down at his arm, grimacing slightly as he sighed. "This... Honestly, if I didn't prefer using a long sword, I would go without. I hate the way it looks. I keep it hidden under my cloak whenever possible, so not many outside of the Crusade know about it." He shook his head and looked back at Hytharion. "Do you really think the demons would make up a story like that for you?" he asked softly. "Do you think you would hallucinate such things? Listen to me, little brother. You're safe. You're in Dalaran. It's really me. And this drake...?" he added, glancing back at Kamara questioningly.

"Kamaragosa, but you can just call me Kamara," she said as she gave him a cheerful smile and wiggled her fingers in a wave.

The confusion didn't leave his face, and his eyes lingered on her for another moment before he shook his head and looked back at Hytharion. "Do you understand what I'm saying, 'Tharion? Do you believe me now?" he asked, his voice gentle. Hytharion, still reluctant to believe quite yet, probed his arm more. Baladir held still, watching patiently. He closed his eyes as he felt the very fabric of the spell, searching vigorously for any holes in a potential disguise, but either this was a very elaborate spell, or... could it be real? The story was believable, but still... Concentrating, he held the arm in both hands and drained the magic from it. Baladir grunted as his arm flopped to the floor. "Hey!"

Keeping his eyes shut, he held the magic in his hands. He had studied the magic of demons during the war. He did not sense the terrible, destructive power of Fel nor the dread that crept up his spine when he touched Shadow. Arcane magic tingled. It made him feel focused, and that was all he felt as he held it in his hands now. Hytharion launched himself at his brother with an agonized cry, wrapping his arms around him and hugging him tightly, sobbing in both overwhelming relief and anguish. Baladir gladly returned it. He felt like he couldn't breathe, and yet, he didn't want him to let go. For just a few moments, despite Baladir's cold, hard armour, he was sent back in time to when he was young. He remembered hugging him like this once when he was just a child after he'd had a bad dream. Back when a bad dream was just nothing more than the Boogey Man under his bed, back when 'scourge' was not a cursed word said with terror, and there were no undead monsters roaming the world. He clung to that memory like he clung to his brother now, holding it up like a torch in his mind to drive back the darkness. "I'm so sorry, 'Tharion," Baladir whispered. "I didn't realize the extent of your wounds. I didn't mean to bring it up."

Hytharion felt pathetic as he sat there crying and clinging to his brother. "I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry..."

"There's nothing you need to apologize for. I'm sorry."

After a minute, he pulled back and looked up at Baladir as he wiped his eyes. "Th-thank you."

Baladir wiped his own eyes and gave him a slight nod, his face still concerned. "Your head..."

Hytharion touched his head, hissing as he found a painful spot on the side, and brought away his hand to look at the blood on his fingers. "W-What happened? I... passed out?"

Baladir nodded, and Hytharion could hear the fear in his voice. "Not for long, but you hit your head pretty hard. I won't make you tell me what happened, but please, let me heal you." Hytharion felt his head again and nodded. As he set his glasses aside and rubbed his swollen eyes, Baladir touched his head and muttered a quiet prayer. A golden glow surrounded his hand. All of his pain slowly ebbed away. It was warm and comforting. He stopped shaking, and his heart began to calm. As Baladir sat back and reached to heal his lip, Hytharion looked at Kamara as she went to sit on his other side. "What are you doing here?"

"I was passing by and heard screaming, Hythe. I was concerned that you were being attacked or something." She looked towards the door. "You might need to replace the latch," she said sheepishly. "I didn't bother with seeing if it was locked or not. Sorry.

Hytharion gave her a small smile. "I-It's alright, shouldn't be too expensive to fix if I do. Thank you." He looked back at Baladir. "Bal, I..." He sighed as he searched for words. He was still angry. That anger would probably never leave him, at least not entirely, but he had to try. "I-I don't think I can ever actually fully forgive you. Falaria and I... w-we went through a lot after you left. But... you saved my life. You gave me a second chance to see my family. I can't thank you enough for that."

Baladir nodded as he brought his fingers away from his healed lip. "It was nothing. I was only doing my duty." He averted his eyes as he asked, "I don't suppose this means you'll go to Darkshore?"

Hytharion blinked, shocked at his brother's audacity. "W-What? Fucking hell, Baladir, I..." He let out a frustrated sigh. How could he say no now? "I shouldn't... but fine."

"Darkshore? Why there?" Kamara asked.

"The Horde is there. So is my sister. Baladir wants me to go find her and stop her."

Her eyes widened in concern. "What? Hythe, you can't go, it's dangerous, and you'll get in big trouble if you're found out!"

"I owe him my life. I can't say no, not now."

"Hythe, you-

"I'm going, Kamara."

She frowned, looking past him to glare at Baladir for a moment before shifting her focus back to him. "I don't think I've ever met an elf of any kind that's not just as stubborn as a dragon," she muttered.

Hytharion chuckled slightly. "Honestly, me either."

"Thank you," Baladir said quietly. When Hytharion looked back at him, he looked away again. "I'm sorry. I one hundred percent understand why you don't want to go, but you don't understand how worried I am for Fal. Her allegiance is wrong. Evil. I fear the path she is on now will only lead to her own death." Finally, he glanced at him. "I wouldn't ask you to go if I thought your life in danger," he said softly. "Like I said, I've watched you. You're a good fighter but you're also good at getting out of sticky situations..." He glanced at Hytharion's leg. "Usually." He smiled slightly as Hytharion let out an amused scoff at that. "I'm confident you'll get out in one piece, and I'm confident you'll be able to do it without bloodshed." He was silent for several long moments, looking lost in thought. "I'm sorry I never returned," he said softly, still looking distant, "but I failed Silvermoon, I failed Mom and Dad... I failed everyone. I had to make up for it, but after I left the way I did, I feared your judgment. I... I know I don't know what you went through, and I know that I probably never will, but even if you never forgive me for that, could you forgive me for my failure?"

Hytharion blinked at him. "What? I never blamed you for any of that, Bal. How could you even think that?"

"Grief often does strange things to the mind, 'Tharion. I-" He was interrupted by a knock at the door before he could say more.

"What now?" Hytharion muttered as he sat back and glanced at the door.

"I can get it if you want," Kamara offered. "Or just scare them off." Her golden eyes flared brightly as she flashed sharp fangs and let out a growl that definitely did not belong to the form she took.

He chuckled a little. "N-No, it's okay."

He headed to the door and opened it to see a human dressed in white robes, tall, though not quite as tall as Baladir. His reddish-brown hair was fading, and many lines of age marked his face, but he had fierce, bright green eyes, ones that Hytharion would recognize if the man were a member of the Kirin Tor. "Can I help you?"

"These blasted houses all look the same," the man muttered in a Gilnean accent. "Are you Hytharion? I'm looking for a high elf named Boralian. He said he would be somewhere around here."

Hytharion blinked. "E-Excuse me?"

"I'm here, soldier," Baladir said quickly, pulling his cloak back on as he joined them at the door. "Is something wrong?"

The man looked relieved as he shifted his gaze to Baladir and quickly saluted. "General Boralian, you've been ordered to return to Light's Hope. The scouts have noticed an increase in Cult activity. Probably nothing, but Lord Tyrosus wants to be prepared."

Baladir nodded to him. "Thank you. I will return in a moment." The priest nodded and stepped back to wait.

Hytharion raised an eyebrow as Baladir turned back to him. "You couldn't come up with something original? I'm sure Dad would be proud of you stealing his name."

"Creativity has never been my strong suit," Baladir chuckled. His smile faded as he glanced back at the man. "I'm sorry I have to go already, but an order's an order. I promise to visit again, though." He lifted his limp prosthetic arm with his other hand. "I don't suppose you'd fix this for me first, though?"

"Right, sorry." Hytharion ran his fingers over the arm and muttered the words of the animation spell. A violet glow that started at Baladir's hand spread upwards. A moment later, he lifted it, flexing the fingers. "Thank you." He turned and looked like he was about to leave, but he paused and looked back at him. "Please, be careful. I am confident that you'll be fine, but the night elves will not hesitate to attack should they see you. I love you, 'Tharion, you and Falaria both. I hope you know that. Al diel shala." Hytharion breathed a small sigh of relief as Baladir left with the man. His brother was still alive after all these years... Some small part of him was still questioning reality. He would have to think of a plan to find his sister quickly, but for now, he went to the couch and closed his eyes as he tried to calm himself a little more, Kamara at his side offering comfort.