War was not a new concept to Lord Ravencrest, and it was immediately noticeable in the way he organized his troops. When Eliana and Illidan emerged from her tent a few minutes later, they'd discovered that the commander already sent out scouting parties, tasked with finding out just how far the demons' destruction had spread throughout Kalimdor.

As a result, the camp seemed less boisterous than their last one; the clanging of hammer against anvil was less common, and there were fewer bodies milling about. But...that could also be because much of their force was decimated in this first major battle in the war, and that knowledge sobered Eliana.

She and Illidan stood beside one another, gazing around at the remainder of their army. Though she knew there'd been little she alone could do to save them, she hoped that they had a better chance at winning this, now that the spell on the Well of Eternity had been lifted.

Or so Rhonin had said.

That had been part of the reason Illidan had come to find her. He'd spoken with Rhonin while waiting for her to awaken, and the red-haired sorcerer had surmised that Malfurion had succeeded in whatever it was he'd been trying to do back in Suramar. While it seemed like all of the sorcerers were elated at the return of their power, both Rhonin and Illidan were worried for Malfurion.

It was true that the spell being lifted boded well for the Night Elves, but if that was the case, then where was Malfurion? Why had he not arrived with Tyrande and Broxigar to join them at the camp?

Illidan was worried for his brother, and Eliana was worried for their people's survival.

She knew war was a morbid affair, filled with death and destruction and little cause for smiles, but the reality was always far worse than one thought. It seemed like there was constantly something for them to worry about.

The worst part of it all was that their only viable course of action was to wait. Lord Ravencrest had commanded that they do nothing until the scouting parties returned with news of Kalimdor's condition. Only then could the leaders of the army determine what their best plan would be.

However, waiting made soldiers restless, and even Eliana found herself shifting in place more often than not from impatience.

Illidan suffered from it far more than most. He paced back and forth relentlessly for the better part of the last few hours, and eventually, he pivoted on his heel to face Eliana.

"I'm going to see if I can find out anything about the status of those search parties. I'm anxious to return to the battlefield."

Concerned, Eliana cinched her eyebrows together. "Illidan, you've hardly rested. We don't know what Lord Ravencrest's plans will be. We could ride out in five minutes or five hours."

"Exactly, except it feels more likely to be five hours. We should hit them now, when they least expect it."

"And have half the troops keel over from exhaustion? Not everyone is gifted with the same amount of burning passion as you, you know." Though she was trying to convince him to rest, she made it sound like she was teasing him, lest he bristled.

An anxious Illidan made for a rather irritable Illidan, as she'd discovered during their wait. His only response to her comment was a grunt, and then he continued his incessant pacing. She sighed and sank down onto a crate that rested just outside her tent, her thighs aching in protest. The healer had mended the wound in her side, but they couldn't take away her soreness.

It wasn't necessarily a bad thing; she didn't want to forget the fact that she was lucky to be alive, while so many others were not.

A few minutes later, Illidan threw his hands up in the air and announced, "I'm going to speak to Lord Ravencrest. I'll be back momentarily," before stalking off in the direction of the commander's tent.

Eliana barely had time to wave farewell, he'd turned around so fast. Not wanting to stare after his retreating figure like a lovesick sabercat, her gaze flitted around the camp. Nothing held her interest, as she wasn't necessarily looking for anything in particular. Eventually, her eyes drifted up towards the walls surrounding the capital.

They were still a few miles away, in what had once been the plains just outside the city's walls. When the demon's retreated behind the gates, they'd swung shut with a final thud that echoed across the battlefield. Ever since then, the city had fallen eerily quiet. There was no motion from the inhabitants, and an unnatural, sickly green fog had rolled out from the gates shortly after.

Unable to look away, Eliana shivered in fear, disgust, and sorrow. If the city was that quiet, it was likely because there were no inhabitants left. The demons had rushed out of those gates with a thirst for death in their eyes, and she couldn't imagine they'd left any elf alive before they reached the plains.

If that was the case, though, then what was everyone in the palace doing? Illidan had mentioned that Malfurion suspected the queen was part of all this, but why? Why would she throw all of her people to the demons? What reason could she possibly have?

Footsteps scuffing through the dirt approached from behind her tent. Eliana whipped her head towards the sound, all thoughts of the queen forgotten. As she slowly rose to her feet, she gripped the handles of her daggers, tensing in preparation for whatever was coming.

When Cytheas strolled into view, looking nonchalant and amiable—albeit exhausted—she let out a relieved sigh and relaxed her hand at her side. "You can't sneak up on me like that, Cyth," she reprimanded.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Sorry, I thought you heard me coming."

"I did. That's why I was tense. I didn't realize it was you." She brushed an errant strand of hair back from her face, before looking towards the palace once more. "Do you have any news?"

"No, not yet," he replied as he sidled up to her. After crossing his arms over his chest and following her gaze, he added, "The Moon Guard teleported Jarod back to Suramar to check in with the hold. Once he sends word, I think Lord Ravencrest will determine what we do."

"What are our options?"

"Well, we don't have much. Either we stay here and form another offensive plan, or we return to Suramar and recuperate until a new plan comes together. We need new intel in order to choose."

"Which is why we're waiting on the scouting parties and Jarod's report, right?"

"Right. Look at you, figuring out all sides of the problem. Why didn't you decide to become a soldier instead?" Cytheas teased, reaching up and tugging on her earlobe.

She brushed him off with a smile, and said, "I can't be a soldier, you know that. I am a novice, training to be a fully-fledged Priestess of Elune."

"I've seen your Sentinels fight. You are soldiers."

"The Sentinels, perhaps. Me..." She trailed off at the reminder of her newfound experience in battle, and her smile fell. With her gaze still trained on the palace, surrounded by that perverse green fog, she quietly added, "We are what we need to be, when we need to be it. Be that soldier, priestess, or otherwise."

Cytheas' mirth dissipated at her response, and he let out a long sigh. "Eliana, I know I gave you a hard time before, about joining us in battle. But you know why I did, don't you?"

"Because you didn't think I could handle myself out there," she stated, utterly sure of his reason.

He faced her head-on, gently turning her shoulder so that she was facing him, too. "No, that's not why at all. I trust that you can handle yourself just fine. The Temple has trained you, I've trained you. I know that you are capable."

"Then why? Why couldn't you simply believe in me?"

"I do. I just couldn't...I couldn't stand to lose you. We still don't know where your father is, or whether he's alive. We don't know how Malfurion is doing back in Suramar. There are so many unknowns right now, so many people missing. I couldn't let you be one of them, too."

Eliana blinked back tears at the mention of her father. Her home had been almost completely destroyed, razed nearly to the ground. How he could've possibly survived that, she had no idea. All of the evidence pointed to his death, and yet, there was still an inkling of hope deep in her heart. Elune had taught her to never lose faith, and until she had solid proof, she would choose to believe that they may find him yet.

However, Cytheas was right. There were many elves who had perished already, but even more still had been lost in the throes of battle—casualties of war. What of all of the inhabitants of the capital? What of all the elves who had fled Suramar before the war had escalated?

Tears welled in her eyes again, and she dropped her gaze to the floor, unwilling to succumb to the grief she'd been holding back thus far. When Cytheas' arms enveloped her in a tight hug, she let out a gasp and reeled back in surprise.

"You need to let it out, Eli. I know you've been trying to keep it in, and remain strong for everyone around you, but sometimes, being able to let it out makes you stronger."

"I don't want to—I can't just...lose it in the middle of the camp. I—"

"You can. Come on." He pulled back and lifted the flap to her tent, leading her inside shortly afterwards.

She floated along after him, her body feeling numb from all of the emotions that were coursing through her. When he sat her down on the bed and crouched down in front of her, the memory of Illidan doing the exact same thing flashed through her mind. Her cheeks darkened in remembrance, and she looked down at her hands in her lap, trying to hide her face from Cytheas.

She and Illidan had done little more than kiss, but it wasn't exactly something she wanted to broadcast to her closest friend, who just so happened to have feelings for her.

He rested his weight on the balls of his feet, letting his arms drape down over his thighs. She'd expected him to reach up and touch her, offering physical comfort, but to her surprise, he didn't. He simply peered up at her, concern etched on his face.

"Eliana, let it out."

"No," she stated, shaking her head.

He sighed. "You have to let it out."

"No, I don't wish to."

Finally, he reached up and grasped her hands in his own. "I've known you a long time, Eliana. You've always cared for others, probably more than was healthy for you. I remember once, when we were younger, we found an injured saber-kitten in the trees behind your house. Do you remember that?"

A tiny smile lifted the corners of her lips. "I do."

"Do you remember wanting to heal it, and then take it from door-to-door to find its owner?"

"Yes..." She trailed off, knowing where this story ended.

"And then, do you remember how devastated you were when your mother couldn't heal it, and it died on your kitchen table?"

She glanced upwards and blinked rapidly, trying to hold back her tears. "Yes, I remember."

Cytheas fell silent, gently stroking his fingers along the back of her hand. "I remember how much you cried for that little kitten. All you wanted to do was save it, to take away its pain. But you couldn't do anything for it, and you can't do anything for the soldiers who've already died. In truth, all that you can do is grieve for them, for the loss of our people.

"But you have to let yourself do that, Eli. You can't hold it all in. It's not who you are. Your ability to empathize with any living being is one of your most beautiful qualities."

A tear finally slid down her cheek, and once the first one was free, it was impossible to hold back the rest. It was like a floodgate opened, and before Eliana knew it, she was sobbing so hard that her entire body was shaking.

Since her eyes were closed, she didn't see Cytheas rise from the ground and sit beside her—though she felt the cot bow from his weight. His warmth surrounded her, and she leaned into his embrace.

Through her sobs, she whimpered, "So...many...deaths."

"I know," he murmured, stroking her hair.

"And for...what? Why did they have to die?"

"There's no right or wrong answer to that question, Eliana. I wish that there was."

She tucked her face into his chest and closed her eyes, lost to her grief. As a result, she didn't see the flap of her tent open, or Illidan stepping inside. Cytheas tensed around her ever-so-briefly, and when he straightened, Eliana wiped her face before leaning back, thinking he was trying to pull away from her.

"Illidan. What can we do for you?" Cytheas asked in a clipped tone.

At that, Eliana whirled around, spotting Illidan on the other side of the tent. Before she had a chance to greet him, or apologize for her disheveled appearance, Illidan scowled and replied, "I've news from Lord Ravencrest."

"Oh? Last I spoke to him, nothing had changed."

"Last you spoke to him? You've been here, what, the past half hour? I just left his tent."

"Very well," Cytheas conceded from between clenched teeth. "What did he say?"

"The scouting parties have returned. Apparently, the demons have reached farther on the continent than we anticipated. He wants to reform ranks at Black Rook. We—meaning Eliana and I—are to return to Suramar to touch base with both the Hold and the Temple. We leave in a few minutes."

"And what am I to do?"

Illidan shrugged. "I don't know, he didn't say. I assume you'll have to get your own orders from him."

Muttering under his breath, Cytheas released Eliana and rose to his feet. "I suppose I'll go and speak with him, then. I take it we're all leaving soon, from the sounds of things."

Eliana nodded, standing as well. "We'll find you later before we leave."

Cytheas nodded in response and made his way out of the tent. Once the flap fell, Illidan faced Eliana again, holding her gaze with a level of intensity she'd yet to experience. By this point, she'd thought that she'd seen more sides to Illidan than before, and yet, he was still surprising her.

"Are you all right with riding back to Suramar with me?" he asked, his voice low.

"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just—never mind. Where is your Nightsaber? Did it survive the battle?"

"Kal'Shalla is her name—and yes, she survived. She's over with the other sabers."

"I hadn't realized you'd named her," he murmured.

"It's a new development. I named her while we were at my fath—" She paused and cleared her throat. "At my house."

Sorrow and understanding passed over Illidan's face, and he slowly nodded at her statement. "We'll have to ride swiftly. I have to speak with Jarod before returning to Black Rook and informing Lord Ravencrest of what the state the city is in."

"I understand." Eliana turned and started gathering up her blankets, folding them neatly before setting them aside.

Illidan watched her for a few moments before he joined in, and between the both of them, just like before, the tent was packed up in no time. They stacked its components neatly in place of where it had stood, and then made their way over to the herd of sabercats on the edge of the encampment.

After singling out Kal'Shalla—who was napping under the low-hanging fronds of a tree—Illidan started securing their packs to her saddle. Without looking back, he said, "Go say your goodbyes. It is likely that Cytheas will be returning straight to Black Rook."

Eliana's mouth formed a small, surprised "o". She'd thought he'd have time to return to Suramar with them, but she supposed Illidan had said it was only the two of them who would be going back to the city. Cytheas was a soldier in Lord Ravencrest's ranks. It stood to reason that he'd return to their base of operations with the rest of the troops.

Sensing Illidan's ire, she reached out and touched his forearm. He stilled and hesitated for a moment, before looking over at her with shuttered eyes. Softly, she said, "Thank you, Illidan. It means quite a bit to me that you're understanding about Cytheas. I wish I could say exactly how much, but it is more than I can express with any semblance of eloquence."

His expression lightened when she said that, and he nodded at her. "Go, I'll be waiting here when you're ready."

With one last grateful smile, she headed back through the throng of sabercats and made her way towards Lord Ravencrest's tent. Many of the soldiers were already preparing to pack up and leave, and the hustle and bustle of the camp escalated to familiar levels. Oddly enough, it was comforting, reassuring even. Though many of their brothers had perished, the soldiers were still ready to fight, to ensure their people would survive this.

It was a strange thing to find relief in, but Eliana felt it nonetheless.

Finally, she reached the commander's tent. The soldier standing guard recognized her from afar, and held the flap open for her to enter. Once she stepped inside the warm, dimly lit space, she paused by the entrance.

Cytheas and Lord Ravencrest were conversing behind the commander's massive strategy table, and once they reached a lull in the conversation, she politely cleared her throat to announce her presence. They both turned, and Cytheas bowed respectfully to Lord Ravencrest before coming around the table.

"Are you leaving now?" he questioned, when he stood beside her.

"Yes, I wanted to come and say goodbye before we go. Just in case I...in case it's some time before we see each other again."

Though she spoke the truth, as much as it was the grim reality of things, she hoped that it wouldn't be nearly that long until she saw him safe and standing beside her once more. Despite the rockiness of their friendship in weeks past, considering the fact that her father may be dead, Cytheas was all she had left in terms of family.

Lord Ravencrest must've sensed their need for privacy. In an uncharacteristically thoughtful moment, he stepped forward and announced, "I'm going to address the troops and inform them of our plan, Cytheas. I'll meet you at the sabers in a few minutes."

When Cytheas bowed his head in acknowledgment of his commanding officer, Lord Ravencrest turned to Eliana. "Priestess. I was doubtful of your presence when you first arrived, but even I cannot deny that seeing you amongst my soldiers gave them hope in a situation where there may have been none otherwise. I thank you for your contribution."

Surprised, Eliana raised her eyebrows ever-so-slightly before recovering and schooling her expression into something more neutral. "There is no need to thank me, my lord. I was happy to help in any way that I could."

He inclined his head in the slightest of nods—the most respectful gesture a man like Lord Ravencrest would likely offer—before brushing past her and leaving the tent.

Once they were alone, the corner of Cytheas' mouth quirked upwards in amusement. "I never thought I'd see the day where Lord Ravencrest would actually thank someone for helping, let alone almost bowing to them in the same minute."

Embarrassed, Eliana shifted in place. "I'm sure it wasn't as big of a deal as you're making it out to be."

"I've been under the commander for a long time, Eliana. That's not something you see every day. You should feel proud that you're representing the Temple well—well enough to make a male like Lord Ravencrest acknowledge it."

She hesitated for a moment, before allowing a tentative smile to grace her face. "I suppose that is a small accomplishment."

"Hardly small," Cytheas noted with a reassuring smile, before falling silent.

They stood there for a few seconds, gazing into each other's eyes. The way Cytheas' gaze flitted across her features felt like he was trying to memorize everything about her; her face, her smile, the way she stood. In turn, she was doing much the same. Her eyes traveled down from the rich, streaming navy strands of his hair, to his assured, wide stance. He was the very epitome of a strong male, one who would be there by her side at every turn, at any sign of danger.

She only wished she could see him the way he saw her.

But, they both knew now, more than ever, that that would never come to be. Despite that knowledge, Eliana still found herself yearning to stay by his side. Standing next to him, she knew for certain that he was still breathing, still very much alive. Without him nearby, she was left to worry about him, to wonder whether he was still walking on Azeroth. It was a fear that she hoped would never be realized, and briefly, she closed her eyes to compose her rampant emotions.

They didn't know whether her father was dead or alive yet, and she refused to think of Cytheas in the same manner. In this very moment in time, he was standing in front of her, whole and well, and she'd try her very best to remember that while they were apart.

He stepped forward, opening his arms for her, and she immediately fell into his embrace. With his arms wrapped around her, and she was encompassed by his warmth, she felt safe. He rested his head on hers and they stood there, simply holding each other.

Eventually, he murmured, "Be safe, Eliana."

"That should be my line."

His chuckle tickled the hairs on the top of her head. "We both know you need it more than I."

She reached up and pinched him in the side, and when he squirmed, she giggled. This is how they were meant to be, the way they were before the day of the festival. They were each other's closest companions, like siblings who fought at every turn, and yet, would do anything for one another.

After she pulled back from his hold, he rested his hands on her shoulders. Briefly, he brushed his knuckles along her cheekbone. "I mean it, though. Stay safe. If not for me, for your father—when we find him."

"I promise, as long as you promise to do the same."

A smile lit up his face. "I promise," he whispered. He turned her in his hands and pushed her lightly towards the door. "I'm sure Illidan is waiting ever-so-patiently for you. Best not keep him waiting too long."

"Illidan? Patient?" Eliana jested, glancing over her shoulder at Cytheas.

To her surprise, he didn't look angry or hurt that they were talking about the male who held her affections—the male who was not him. Perhaps he truly had accepted things and only wished for her to be happy, as he'd said in the Temple.

As she backpedaled away from him, he raised his hand. "Goodbye, Eliana. I will see you again."

Tears blurred her vision, and quickly, she raised her hand as well. "Goodbye, Cytheas!" she called out, before turning around and hurrying back towards the sabers.

Exactly as Cytheas had predicted, Illidan was already seated atop Kal'Shalla, gripping the reins tightly in his hands as he scanned the camp for any sign of Eliana. When she finally ran into view, he steered her Nightsaber in her direction and met her halfway.

"Finally," he grumbled.

"Sorry, I guess we had a lot more to say to one another than I expected," she explained, breathless.

Illidan reached down and offered her his hand, scooting back slightly so that she would fit in front of him. She glanced up at him in surprise and he said, "She's your Nightsaber."

She smiled in appreciation and placed her hand in his, pulling herself up and into the saddle with his help. Once she was settled and the reins were in her own hands, Illidan pointed towards the opposite end of the camp. They ambled through the few tents that hadn't been taken down yet, and within a few minutes, they were back on the trail that wound through the forest.

With his hands gripping her tightly, they gained ground faster than she'd expected to. When the encampment was well and truly behind them, she glanced over her shoulder at Illidan. He'd been silent thus far, and she was curious as to why he hadn't said anything.

Immediately after turning around, her eyes met his. He was staring down at her with a pensive expression, eyes tight with an unreadable emotion.

Surprised, she started. "What?"

"You are by far the most confusing female I've ever known."

"That's the second time you've told me that, Illidan. I might start to think you mean it in a derogatory sense," she joked, facing forward again.

He scoffed in response. "Hardly. I mean it exactly the way I said it. It's neither good nor bad, simply...confusing."

"How is it that I'm confusing, exactly?"

"One minute, you and Cytheas are fighting. The next, you're kissing me. Then even after that, you and Cytheas are closer than ever. I suppose I feel like..." He trailed off, gripping her hips even tighter in his hands. "I suppose I feel like I'm simply the male you come to when the two of you aren't getting along."

At that, Eliana fell silent. Often times, that was how she felt. When the two of them were alone, it was as if Illidan saw nothing else, saw no one else. But she knew that wasn't true. As soon as Tyrande walked into the room, or if his thoughts happened to drift towards the other priestess, it was as if she no longer existed.

Quietly, she muttered, "I know how you feel."

Illidan sighed, and his breath whooshed past her ear, fluttering her hair in its wake. "I know I have no right to complain, or...or feel jealous. You are not mine, and not a piece of property that I can claim, but...I cannot help what I feel."

"Neither can I." She shifted in the saddle, inadvertently brushing up against Illidan. He cleared his throat, and she muttered an apology before ending with, "I suppose we're much in the same boat."

He didn't respond, and hesitantly, Eliana placed her hand on top of his. "Illidan, I want you to know that...despite the fact that I am not yours, my heart is."

A beat passed, before he quietly asked, "What do you mean?"

She let out a tiny sigh, trying to compose her thoughts. Facing forward, she explained, "I know that you love Tyrande, and have for many years. We've spoken of this, and I know where you stand on that. Even though I know that to be true, it doesn't change the way I—the way I feel about you. I care about you, quite a bit, and...you've no reason to be jealous of Cytheas and I."

"No reason? I find that hard to believe," he murmured in her ear.

"He and I are simply good friends—close friends. He is like a brother to me, and if my father is dead, then he is all I have left. But I don't care about him the way I care about you."

Again, he was silent. When a minute or two passed and he still hadn't responded, she shifted in the saddle again. Silently chiding herself, she said, "I'm sorry, I spoke too boldly. I shouldn't have—"

"No, no." He flexed his fingers on her hips again, causing a slight shiver to race up her spine. "I was simply thinking about what you'd said."

Panicked that he would somehow take her admittance the wrong way, she hurriedly added, "I mean, I know that you know that I care about you. I've told you as much. But what I was trying to say was that Cytheas is not someone you need to worry about.

"When I say I've cared about you for a long time, I mean a long time. The first time I met you, at my coming of age party, we didn't talk much. It's silly, but I think even from that day, I knew I was fond of you. As the years passed, the feeling grew, and with each passing time we saw each other, it increased even more.

"What I'm basically saying is that it's been you for as long as I can remember, Illidan. Nothing will change that. I—"

Unexpectedly, he reached around and cupped her face, turning her towards him so that he could capture her lips with his own. Since she hadn't expected him to do that, she pulled back on Kal'Shalla's reins harder than she should've, and the Nightsaber skidded to a halt. As a result, she fell back into Illidan's chest, and his arms came up to cradle her.

It was strange, being in two different men's arms in one day. It also put into perspective exactly how different they both made her feel. Being in Cytheas' arms made her feel warm, and safe, as if nothing in the world could harm her because he would always be there to protect her.

While there were some similarities in Illidan's embrace, the difference was that his touch made her skin feel like it was on fire. Whereas Cytheas gave her a comforting sort of warmth, like coming home to a fire burning in the hearth, the heat of Illidan's body against hers made her feel like she was going to burst out of her body.

Every time he held her, she didn't know which way was up or down. All she could concentrate on was the feel of his skin against hers. All she could smell was the familiar and unique scent that was wholly Illidan: the tinge of metal, the trace of pine trees, and an inherently masculine spice.

As his tongue swept along hers, she was unable to hold back her reaction and moaned into his mouth. The sudden onslaught of emotion left her feeling overwhelmed, and she reached up, placing her right hand against his bicep.

Just as quickly as he started the kiss, he pulled back, leaving her disoriented.

"Illidan, what—"

Sweeping her hair back from her face, he placed his forehead against hers. In a hushed voice, he explained, "Never in my life have I felt like anything was truly mine. Malfurion and I, as twins, have always shared everything—even Tyrande."

Not knowing what to say, Eliana stayed quiet. Illidan took the opportunity to continue. "I know I've just finished saying that I cannot own you, but...hearing you claim that your heart has always been mine, it—it made me feel as I've rarely felt before: wanted."

"You are wanted," she whispered. "I want you more than I could possibly put into words."

"And that is something that means more to me than I can put into words. I cannot promise you anything," Illidan murmured. "But I want you to know that giving your heart to me makes me feel something no one has ever made me feel before."

His words made Eliana's heart feel like it was soaring through the night sky, free like the birds she'd so envied as a child. It floated up above the stars, above all the death and destruction that littered their world in that very moment. It was as if nothing in the world could bring her back down, except for the very male who had his arms around her right now.

A smile slowly spread across Eliana's face. When Illidan saw her expression change, he mirrored it with a smile of his own, lightly tracing the line of her jaw. After a few seconds had passed, he flicked the end of her chin before reaching around her and taking the reins in his own hands. As they lurched forward on the path, continuing towards Suramar, he pulled her back to rest against his chest.

"Come. Let's go home."