Silence fell after Illidan's departure, thickening the already present tension in the air around Eliana. All she could manage to do was take a deep breath, and her gaze remained locked on the dirt beneath her boots. When her vision clouded and swam with unshed tears, she angrily swiped the back of her hand across her eyes.

She was fed up with crying over matters of the heart.

Cytheas' warm hand settled on her shoulder, his touch light and gentle. After taking another deep breath, she straightened and looked up into his eyes. His brows were furrowed in concern, but he didn't say anything to her about what they'd overheard. What could he say? He knew better than anyone else exactly how she was feeling right at that very moment.

Unable to form a coherent sentence—or at least, one that would convince Cytheas that she was fine—she held his gaze as she placed her hand over his. A slight nod was all she could manage, but it seemed that was enough for him. He returned the gesture and retracted his hand, looking back over his shoulder in the direction that Illidan had gone.

A few moments later, he faced her again. "We should return to the main part of the camp."

Again, Eliana nodded in agreement. Without another word, the pair headed back into the depths of the encampment. Rays of deep gold and burnt orange filtered through the space between tents, enveloping them in a surprisingly comforting warmth. Their people were at their strongest during the darkest hours of the night, but Lord Ravencrest had pushed them to gain ground during the day as well. After prolonged exposure to the daylight hours, Eliana found herself more fond of the sun than she'd been before. Unfortunately, the beauty of nature did little to ease her tender heart.

This particular section of the forest was still blessedly untouched by the demons, and as the sun continued to sink, the forest gradually came alive with the sounds of nature. The chirping of insects filled the early evening air, and Eliana glanced about them as they walked. Though the familiar sight was a comfort, she knew with heartbreaking certainty that it would not remain this way for long; anything the demons touched withered and died, tainted by their twisted, foul presence.

It seemed like there was little to be happy about in the world now.

When they reached the center of the camp, Cytheas faced Eliana. "You should try and get some rest. We'll likely be moving out soon."

"What about Malfurion and Lord Krasus? They still have not returned."

He shook his head. "I'm not sure the commander plans on waiting for them to return . . . You should take advantage of every opportunity to rest—it will come in handy later. You saw how long we rode for this last time."

Slowly, she nodded. "You're right. I just . . ." She trailed off, breaking eye contact to stare at the ground. It was torture, and she knew that, but she couldn't help but wonder where Illidan had wandered off to, how he was handling Tyrande's rejection. From the past times that the two of them hadn't been in agreement, she couldn't imagine he was handling it well.

But, this time around, comforting him would only bring grief to herself. Perhaps it was time to stop trying to be his friend and simply accept things for what they were.

As always, Cytheas seemed to know where her thoughts had drifted. With a slight sigh, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her head. "Do you want me to stay with you?"

For a moment, she almost said yes. Being alone meant being overwhelmed by her thoughts, her worries, and mostly her insecurities. However, something made her hesitate at the last second, and she shook her head. If she wasn't willing to torture herself, she wouldn't hurt Cytheas by visibly pining after another male. Not all over again.

A few seconds passed before Cytheas pulled away. He leaned down to peer into her eyes, his own narrowing in suspicion. "Are you sure?"

Though she wasn't in the best of moods, the corners of her lips quirked upwards. "I'm positive, Cyth, but thank you," she replied in a quiet voice.

After squeezing her shoulder in reassurance, he nodded. "Then I'll see you tomorrow. Promise me you'll try and actually get some rest."

"Didn't I say that I would?"

"Yes, but I know you. You'll probably lay awake all night, staring up at the moon or something."

The tiniest of chuckles escaped her. "I promise to rest."

"Good," he said. "I—" He broke off, hesitating for the briefest of moments before he finished with, "I'm sorry about what happened, Eliana."

Her smile faltered, and her mood quickly sobered once more. All she could offer was another nod, which Cytheas returned before he finally—albeit reluctantly—walked away. As soon as he disappeared from her sight, she headed towards the section of camp where all of the priestesses had settled. In a time such as this one, perhaps Elune could soothe her when no one else could.

As she wandered through the camp with a heavy heart, and a newfound numbness, her eyes remained locked on the dirt below her feet. The pain had subsided little since she'd overheard Illidan's confession, and it didn't seem like that would be changing anytime soon. Unbeknownst to her, her steps gradually slowed as she approached the priestesses' pale, silver tents, until she came to a stop.

Lethargically, she raised her head and her eyes locked on the crescent moon that topped the High Priestess' tent. The last of the sun's rays, right before it dipped below Mount Hyjal in the distance, glinted off the decorative jewels on the surface of the moon. An errant ray of reflection shone straight into Eliana's eye, and she shielded her face with her forearm.

Was this a sign? Was Elune telling her that this was not where she should be?

After lowering her arm, Eliana looked back up at the decorative moon with cinched brows. A moment of hesitation kept her gaze locked on the symbol of her people, of her faith, but eventually, she turned away from the tents. Her mind raced, thoughts assailing her from all directions. With a frustrated shake of her head, she glanced to the side and noticed that the treeline wasn't too far past the encampment.

Filled with the sudden urge to walk among nature, Eliana beelined for the trees. Perhaps she would be able to feel Mother Moon's presence more in a familiar environment than in a camp that was erected by the pressing call of war. That, and being as far away from where Illidan was sounded like the best solution to calm her thoughts.

Right before she moved into the forest, a soldier dressed in full armor popped out from amongst the leaves. Eliana's hand flew to the hilt of her dagger at her side, but when she realized it was one of her own people, she sighed in relief.

"Apologies, Priestess. I did not mean to startle you," the soldier said by way of a greeting. "I'm sorry, but per Lord Ravencrest's orders, I'm not to allow anyone to leave the camp."

Eliana frowned. "I will not go far."

"I am sure that is true. Regardless, the commander wishes for everyone to stay within the camp. We cannot guarantee that you will be safe in the depths of the forest. The Burning Legion is never far behind us."

"I understand that, but . . ." She dropped her gaze before locking eyes with the soldier once more. "It is difficult to feel Elune's presence within the camp. I'm afraid I'm feeling a bit . . . discouraged. I simply need a quiet place to collect my thoughts. I won't go far, I promise."

The soldier hesitated, glancing over his shoulder before looking back at Eliana. She could sense his ambivalence, and she understood why he was hesitant. If he prevented a Priestess from feeling Elune's presence, that could ripple down through the soldiers and affect them as well. However, he also had his orders, and disobeying them brought consequences.

"Would this be an acceptable compromise?" Eliana asked, stepping towards the soldier. "I promise I won't go beyond those trees there—" She pointed just over his shoulder. "—and you'll be able to see me at all times."

He followed her finger, and turned back to her with a satisfied nod. "That would be fine. But please, Priestess . . . no farther."

Eliana crossed her arm over her chest, placing her palm over her heart. "On the Mother Moon, no farther." As she brushed past him, she placed her hand on his arm. "Thank you."

Seemingly embarrassed, he dropped his gaze and his cheeks darkened. "It—It's no trouble."

With a tiny smile, Eliana let her arm fall and she moved into the trees. The farther she walked, the quieter the world around her became. The hustle and bustle from the camp eased off into silence as the sounds of nature grew. Every step she took allowed a little bit of tension to leave her, and by the time she sat down on a fallen log—within sight of the sentry, as she'd promised—she felt much more relaxed.

A sigh escaped her as she tilted her head back, peering at the moon through the canopy of leaves above her. Why did it always seem as if her life was an endless, tumultuous journey? It stretched on seemingly forever, like the vast expanse of the star-filled sky that surrounded the moon on all sides.

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she chastised herself for being so selfish. It was true that she still didn't know whether her father was alive or dead, and yes, it hurt beyond words hearing Illidan affirm something she already knew, but both of those things paled in comparison to the threat against her people. Suddenly, she felt juvenile and disgusted with herself. She was a Priestess of Elune, someone who was supposed to remain strong and faithful, to inspire her people to continue believing in something. Yet here she was, wallowing in her own losses.

With a scoff, Eliana rose to her feet, intent on returning to the camp. She'd barely turned a quarter of the way around when the sound of someone brushing through the leaves—rather quickly, too—came from her right. Again, her hand flew to her weapon. A moment later, to her surprise, it was Illidan that came bursting out of the trees.

When he saw her, his amber eyes widened in surprise, and she let go of her dagger. "It seems both you and Malfurion enjoy surprising people by appearing out of the forest," she deadpanned. Normally, her words might have been taken in jest, but her flat tone implied otherwise.

As such, he rocked back on his heels with a neutral expression. "I . . . didn't realize there was anyone else in the forest. I didn't mean to startle you."

"That's what they all say." Eliana straightened and turned away from Illidan, trekking back towards where the sentry stood.

She took her time, hoping that he would say something, despite the chances being slim. When a moment passed and he still hadn't said anything, she let out a quiet sigh and picked up the pace.

Not a second later, Illidan called out, "Eliana, wait," as he tromped through the underbrush after her.

Surprised, she halted in place and slowly faced him once more. She watched him walk towards her without a word, fighting to keep her expression blank. Her face seemed to be torn over whether it wanted to look extremely happy at the fact that he'd called out to her, or whether it was time for her to burst into tears over the whole situation.

Finally, he stood just in front of her. "I—It's been some time since I've seen you."

Eliana shrugged. "This morning. Not so long ago." I saw you a few minutes ago, but you didn't see me. Funny, and terribly sad, how some things never change.

Illidan's expression was somber when he replied, "In times of war, a few hours seems like eons."

"I suppose that's true," Eliana mumbled as she lowered her eyes.

Silence fell between them, and when Eliana looked back up at Illidan, he was looking off to the side, his mouth set into a thin line. On any other day, in any other situation, she might have asked him what was wrong, but this time was different. She knew what was wrong, she just didn't think she could handle hearing him speak about Tyrande. Not now.

So instead, she clasped her hands in front of her and stared straight ahead at his chest. In the past, having him stand so close to her might have left her feeling lightheaded, swooning like a young female. Right now, she only felt numb. Her vision faded out of focus as she absentmindedly traced the stitching of his leather jerkin with her eyes, lost in thought.

When he next spoke, the sound of his voice startled her out of her reverie. She glanced up at him, unable to recall what he'd just said, though she'd heard the low murmur of his voice.

"I'm sorry, I must have been miles away. What did you say?"

Though his expression was tight—clearly he was still upset about Tyrande—the corner of his lips quirked upwards. "I asked if everything was all right."

"Oh . . . yes, everything is fine. Why?"

"You seem . . ." He trailed off, his eyes narrowed as he inspected her face. "Sad."

An appropriately sad smile graced her face. "There is much to be sad about, Illidan. I suppose I can't help it."

"Did you learn something about your father?"

She looked up at him again, sharply. "No, did you?"

Illidan shook his head. "I apologize, I didn't mean to make you think I had. I only thought that . . . if you looked this sad, something must have happened to make you so. I thought perhaps you'd received bad news."

"No. Some say that no news is good news, but . . . when it comes to my father, I'm beginning to think that's not true," she replied in a quiet voice.

Gently, he touched her upper arm. "I'm sorry, Eliana. We will find him."

"You can't promise that." His touch was overwhelming and she took a step back, away from him. Normally his touch would set her afire, but now it only felt . . . pitying. It was a reminder that she would always be his second choice, even if he put Tyrande's refusal behind him. His expression darkened at her avoidance of his touch, but he didn't say anything further.

Overcome with another wave of sadness, Eliana shook her head. After tearing her gaze away, she said, "I'm sorry, Illidan, I must go. I only came out here for some peace and quiet so I could meditate, but it didn't seem to work. I—I must rejoin my sisters."

When she moved to walk away, he reached out and grabbed her shoulder, stopping her in mid-turn. "Please, Eliana, wait."

She didn't look back at him, closing her eyes as she took a deep breath. "Illidan, I—I cannot be near you right now. Please, let me go."

"What have I done to offend you so?" he asked, his voice quiet. He didn't sound upset, but by now, she knew him well enough to recognize that his ire simmered just beneath the surface.

Reluctantly, she planted both feet and Illidan let go of her shoulder. She turned back and met his gaze, brows drawn together. "Do you really not know? Is it of such little importance to you that you don't understand?"

At first, his face remained scrunched in confusion. Eliana saw the moment it dawned on him; the grooves in his forehead smoothed out and he looked surprisingly ashamed. "You overheard us," he said, more of a statement than a question.

A nod from her was all he received by way of a response. He let out a deep sigh before he stroked the strong lines of his chin and looked away from her. When a few more seconds passed and he still hadn't replied, Eliana turned, intending on walking away from him again.

She'd only made it a few steps before his voice chased after her.

"I'm sorry, Eliana."

Against her wishes, her body responded to the sound of his voice and she paused, though she didn't turn around. His steps brushed aside the leaves on the forest floor as he approached her. When he stood just behind her—which she knew because she could feel the waves of heat emanating from him—he reached up and cupped her shoulders with his hands. The warmth radiated through her body, and she fought to suppress her body's responding shudder. Even when he'd broken her heart, she still wanted him, and she hated herself for that.

"I never meant for you to hear that conversation," he said, his voice deep, and as rough as the coarse dirt of the forest floor.

"I didn't think you did," she replied quietly.

"I never meant to hurt you."

"I know, but it doesn't change the fact that . . . you did."

"Eliana," he protested, turning her around to face him. "How do I fix this? I don't wish for you to be upset, not with me."

With tears pooling in her eyes, she looked up at him. They held each other's gaze for a few tense seconds, until she said, "I'm not sure that you can."

Seemingly frustrated, he dropped his hands and took a small step back. "I've never hid how I felt about Tyrande. You knew that better than most."

"I did, and I never said that I blame you. I don't. I blame myself," Eliana replied, a tear sliding down her cheek.

"For what?" Illidan asked, sounding exasperated.

"For letting myself think I had a chance. For letting myself enjoy every touch and every kiss that you gave me, when I knew how you felt about her. I was a fool, and I've only now come to understand just how much of one I have been." Equally as frustrated, she swiped the tears from her face.

This time, he stepped forward again. "You are not a fool, Eliana. It is true that . . . that I love Tyrande—" Eliana cringed. "—but I have told you that I feel something for you as well."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" she asked bitterly.

"Perhaps not, but it is the truth."

"And your supposed feelings for me are meant to render your feelings for Tyrande unimportant? No longer true? What am I to do with that knowledge, Illidan, when I see you choose her, time and time again, over me?" Eliana took a step towards him, holding her hands out imploringly. "How long am I to wait for you to love me as you love her?"

The question rendered Illidan speechless, and he dropped his gaze to the ground. Disappointed that she'd let herself be swept up in her emotions, Eliana let out a shaky exhale as she moved away from him. The parallel between she and Illidan was not lost on her, and she almost laughed at the irony. Or at least, she would have if she hadn't been so upset.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to . . ." She trailed off and turned away from him, looking back towards the camp. "I have to return now. Be safe, Illidan." She'd meant it in the same way she'd meant all of the other entreaties she'd asked of him, but this time it felt strangely like a goodbye.

As she walked away from him, another tear escaped, but she let this one fall. It seemed fitting, and she knew that she couldn't hold it in forever. She'd tried that, and it hadn't worked in her favor then. She doubted it would now.

When she was nearly at the forest's edge, the sound of quick footsteps approached her from behind. Confused because she knew it could only be Illidan, she turned back around with cinched brows.

Before she could ask him what was the matter, he was in front of her with his hands cradling her face, tilting it up to meet his as he bent down to kiss her. A gasp escaped her as his lips pressed fiercely against hers, and the sound was swallowed whole by him. Though she knew she should pull away, that she shouldn't give in to him whenever he tried to control a situation by doing this exact thing, she simply couldn't. She knew that the best thing for her to do was to walk away from Illidan, in every sense of the meaning, but she knew she never could.

He would call, and she would come running.

Her eyes slid shut, allowing one final tear to leave its prison as she reached up to place her hand on his cheek. He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue into her mouth and sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to her lower abdomen. Without warning, he pushed her back and they moved in tandem until she hit the rough bark of a tree.

He slid his arm behind her neck, protecting her head from the trunk while simultaneously keeping her in his embrace. After what felt like ages had passed, he pulled away, though instead of straightening, he traced kisses along her jaw. When his tongue snaked out and swirled along the skin just underneath her earlobe, she threw her head back against his arm.

"Illidan," Eliana gasped, sliding her fingers into his hair. It would likely ruin his ponytail, but he didn't seem to care at the moment.

When he didn't respond, and moved to capture her lips once more, she pulled away as much as she could in the close quarters. "Illidan, wait."

Just before he pressed his lips to hers, he paused. "Why?"

"I—Can you step back for a moment?" she asked, breathless.

He lowered his brows, but acquiesced, keeping her in the space between his arms. Now that he was standing some distance away, her head felt less foggy, and she finally was able to string together words.

"Why did you do that?"

Illidan frowned. "Did you not enjoy it?"

"That wasn't my point; I enjoyed it immensely. But . . . I thought I just made it clear that I didn't wish to be your second choice," Eliana replied, her voice soft.

Illidan let out a long sigh, before stepping back completely and rising to his full height. "You did, and that's not why I did it."

"Then why?"

He looked away from her, back towards camp. "There is little I can do to make you not feel like you were my second choice. Inevitably, that will always be how it seems. But when I saw you walking away from me, and when I went over what you had said in the moments before, I—I didn't know what else to do."

Eliana cinched her brows in confusion. "I do not understand."

"You had made it sound like, once you walked away, that was the last I would see of you. That from that moment on, I could no longer hold you if I wished to, nor could I kiss you if I wished to. I don't wish to lose that—to lose you, Eliana. I can't. Losing the ability to call you mine was not something I could live with."

Though her heart soared at his words, her mind ever-so-kindly reminded her that though he might say these things, his actions spoke louder. "So am I to wait for you to let go of Tyrande? Is that what you're asking of me?"

"No," Illidan said sharply with a shake of his head. "Well . . . perhaps. Regardless of how I might still feel, Tyrande has made her wishes very clear."

"And that leaves us where?"

"I know it makes you feel like I am choosing you second, and again, there is little I can do to help you feel otherwise. But . . . I couldn't let you simply walk away. Not when you are the only person who seems to think I'm worth something, worth believing in."

Eliana watched him, waiting for him to speak again. Briefly, he glanced away before meeting her gaze once more.

"What I am asking is still unfair to you. I'm asking you to be patient with me. It will take time for me to move on; I have loved Tyrande for . . . as long as I can remember. But I never anticipated caring for anyone else, and I do care for you. It will take time, but . . . if it is something you still want—if I am who you still want—I do not want you to give up on me." He looked down at her expectantly, before muttering, "I would like to see what the future brings, provided we survive this damned war."

A chuckle escaped Eliana before she could stop it, and Illidan smiled ever-so-slightly at her reaction. Then, their expressions sobered and she remembered that he was waiting for her to respond.

That same part of her mind that had been telling her to be wary was still setting off alarms, but she told herself that Illidan had always been honest with her. From the beginning, as he'd said, he had always been clear about his feelings. She had no reason not to believe him this time. Still, it didn't stop her from feeling reticent.

Tentatively, she raised her eyes and met his. "I want to say yes . . ."

Illidan reached down and cupped her cheek. "Then say yes."

"I-I'm not sure that I should. I'm afraid that . . . that every time Tyrande looks your way, or if she so much as hints at having feelings for you—"

"That time is done, I promise you that. Today has taught me that there is little hope in that endeavor." He still sounded bitter, but he at least seemed less angry than when it had first happened.

"Perhaps that is true, but . . ." Eliana trailed off, lowering her gaze. "I don't want you to feel like I am turning you down, but I—I need time, Illidan. Time to decide if that is truly what is best."

Though his expression darkened again, he nodded. "Very well. I suppose that is fair."

"Thank you for understanding," she said, cradling his cheek.

He hesitated for a moment, before leaning down and planting a chaste kiss on her lips. "Come, let's return to camp before the sentry comes to find us."

-----

The next morning, as per Cytheas' prediction, Lord Ravencrest ordered everyone to ride out before the sun had fully risen. With drooping eyelids and lethargic motions, the entire battalion and all of the refugees saddled up and prepared to travel. Because the demons had pushed them back to Mount Hyjal, there was nowhere else for them to go in that direction. So, per the commander's orders, they rode south once more.

Eliana faced forward, hoping that the land around Mount Hyjal would remain untouched by the Burning Legion. Even if the demons razed the entire continent, she prayed that this sacred place would remain pure and whole. Beside her rode Tyrande, who was staring ahead with grim determination in her eyes. The young female that Eliana had seen with her friend a couple of days ago was just on the other side of Tyrande, though her expression was a bit more reticent. The young one had seen violence, likely just as much as them, but she didn't have as much experience as Tyrande and it reflected in her wide eyes. Every move Tyrande made, the young female mirrored with awe.

Eliana smothered an amused smile and kept her eyes on the backs of the soldiers who were ahead of them. Lord Ravencrest was difficult to miss on the front lines, what with his multi-colored plumage rising high in the air, and she knew that Cytheas, Illidan, Rhonin, and Broxigar would be close to the commander. Lord Krasus and Malfurion never returned to join the troops, and Eliana suspected that much of Tyrande's silence was due to Malfurion's absence.

When the herd of soldiers and refugees rode past Black Rook Hold again, this time heading in the opposite direction, Eliana looked over at Tyrande in question. Her friend shook her head, seemingly just as confused as Eliana was. They rushed past the Hold, sticking close to the main dirt path that wound its way through the remnants of the once-lush forest.

Not long after, as they were almost to Suramar, a short, sharp blare from the commander's horn had Eliana sitting straighter in her saddle; it had been the horn of warning. Before the herd could slow to a halt, multiple felhounds leaped out of the treeline and whizzed past the priestesses. One had flown so close to Eliana, she could smell the foul stench of its breath. She and Tyrande pulled back on their reins hard, and their mounts reared up before skidding to a stop.

Quickly, she dismounted, daggers in hand before her feet even hit the ground. Worried for Kal'Shalla, she tapped her nightsaber's hindquarters, indicating that she wished for her to take shelter in the woods. With a slight growl, Kal'Shalla shifted behind Eliana and turned around to face the trees, guarding Eliana's flank. Gratitude spread through her, but she didn't have time to dwell on it.

The closest felhound rounded on them with saliva dripping from its sharpened teeth, and the ends of its tentacles puckered in anticipation. Priestesses of Elune were nothing in comparison to a true sorcerer, but they still held magical energy, and the felhound wanted it.

It pounced, and Eliana rolled under its tentacle and off to the side, dragging the serrated edge of her dagger against the beast's side. On the opposite side of the beast, Tyrande pushed her charge out of the way before nocking an arrow and aiming for the creature's eye. When it faced Tyrande, Eliana threw her other dagger at the felhound to get its attention, buying her fellow priestess enough time to shoot. Her dagger met its target—the base of the felhound's tentacle—and the tip of the blade embedded itself into the monster's hide.

The felhound screeched in pain, turning on Eliana once again, the spines on its back twitching in anger. Tyrande used the given opportunity to loose her arrow. True to her aim, the arrow speared the felhound's left eye, and it collapsed onto its knees, its screech increasing in volume.

To both Eliana and Tyrande's surprise, her charge raced past Tyrande, grabbing the blade from Tyrande's hip. She sprinted towards the felhound, diving into a slide and slicing up and under its chin as she flew past. Its putrid, viscous blood rained down on the dirt below and it teetered on its hooves, on the verge of death. Kal'Shalla raced forward, and after letting out a guttural roar, clamped her fangs down on the felhound's neck. With a jerk of the saber's head, the felhound went immobile and collapsed onto the ground.

Tyrande's charge rose to her feet, exuberant from her kill. With anger twisting her features, Tyrande stomped over to her and tore the blade from her charge's hand. "Shandris, I ordered you to stay out of the way! Don't ever do that again! You could've been killed!"

Instantly, Shandris' expression fell. "But I—I killed it for you! I only wanted to prove myself, and—"

"This is not the place nor the time to do such reckless things," Tyrande scolded.

Before they could continue their argument, another horn blared and the three of them turned towards the front of the company. Eliana studied the front line, trying to see what was going on, but to no avail. All she could glean was that they were fighting in rotating waves again, trying to give the soldiers their much needed respite so that they could continue to push forward.

"We can't fight here long," Eliana noted as she faced Tyrande again. "We're too in the open, and the trees only provide cover for the demons, not for us. We've been herded into a trap."

Tyrande nodded in agreement. "You're right. But if we can't push the demons back, we'll never make it past Suramar."

Before Eliana could reply, High Priestess Dehjana sprinted up to them on her mount, hair flying behind her. "Tyrande, I need you to spread out your team and protect the refugees from the demons coming in through the trees." Her gaze flickered to the felhound's corpse just behind them, and she added, "I see you've already done so."

Tyrande stepped up and bowed, placing her palm over her heart. "We were ambushed, High Priestess, but we've managed."

"Out of the sisters I assigned to you earlier, how many remain alive?" the High Priestess demanded.

Tyrande glanced over her shoulder, doing a quick head count. "Seven, High Priestess."

After nodding, though her expression was grim, Dehjana instructed, "Three on each side, one to protect the flank. Lord Ravencrest and his soldiers are trying to push the demons back enough so that we can reach Suramar. We need to survive until then."

Tyrande nodded, bowing once more, and the High Priestess turned towards Eliana. "Priestess Starhelm, Lord Ravencrest has demanded your presence at the front lines."

Astounded, Eliana reeled back. Recalling herself, she quickly bowed to the High Priestess before saying, "I do not understand, High Priestess. Why would I be needed there more than I am here, with my fellow sisters?"

"I was not privy to that information." High Priestess Dehjana faced Tyrande once more. "Elune guide you, Tyrande. Quickly, Priestess Starhelm! We need to ride back to the front!"

Eliana nodded, swiftly hopping onto Kal'Shalla and giving Tyrande one last look. Her friend nodded as well, and their mutual plea for one another to remain safe was heard. With a shout, Eliana flicked Kal'Shalla's reins and rode after the High Priestess towards the front lines.

As they rode through the throng, Eliana saw far more casualties than she had hoped for, and her chest tightened. Death was inevitable in war, she'd seen that firsthand, and yet it seemed like more and more of her people were dying in droves. And for what? Briefly, she squeezed her eyes shut, sending a quick prayer to Elune for the souls of the dead. Ahead of her, High Priestess Dehjana was equally silent, and she was likely doing the exact same thing.

Minutes later, they approached the ornamented, violet banner of Lord Ravencrest. Up here, the sounds of battle were far more prominent than they had been where the other priestesses were. The twang of metal against metal, and also against flesh, rang out through the air. The cries of the soldiers, both fueled by anger and filled with pain, were interspersed with the hale of war.

The High Priestess' mount skidded to a halt and she hurriedly dismounted. Eliana followed suit, rushing after Dehjana towards the commander himself. Lord Ravencrest was barking orders to his captains, who quickly rushed off down the hill towards the battlefield itself. When Dehjana and Eliana approached, he turned and his expression cooled, falling into the role of leader versus commander.

"High Priestess Dehjana," he greeted with a slight incline of his head. "I see you've brought me Eliana, as requested."

"Indeed. Now I must return and aid my own warriors. Elune guide you, Lord Ravencrest," the High Priestess said, before facing Eliana. "Be safe out there, Priestess Starhelm. We cannot afford to lose any more of our sisters."

Eliana nodded, her expression grim. "May Elune guide you, High Priestess."

"And you," the High Priestess replied, before hopping onto her mount and racing off in the direction they'd come from.

When she was out of sight, Eliana faced Lord Ravencrest, bowing in greeting. He nodded at her, and explained, "I requested your presence because I thought you might be a valuable addition to the scouting party."

"Scouting party, my lord?"

"Indeed. Cytheas and Captain Shadowsong are leading a small troop into the plains to see how far the demons' force stretches along our forest. We need to know how many demons we are dealing with in order to form a plan. I wish for you to join them—to heal and aid in the fighting if needed, but mostly for morale. The soldiers will feel more motivated with you among them."

Eliana bowed again. "I am honored you thought of me, Lord Ravencrest."

He waved her reverence aside and that was when Cytheas approached from below the hill, ichorous demon's blood smeared across his forehead. When he saw Eliana, he started, and then his expression tightened. He bowed to Lord Ravencrest, keeping his expression professional and detached.

"You called for me, commander?"

"Yes. You and Captain Shadowsong are to leave immediately and head towards Suramar. Find out how many of these monsters we're dealing with," Lord Ravencrest instructed, before striding off to the opposite end of the front line.

Once he was out of earshot, Cytheas whirled on Eliana. "What are you doing up here?"

"High Priestess Dehjana brought me when Lord Ravencrest requested my presence. Apparently, I'm to join you on this scouting expedition."

"What?" Cytheas exclaimed.

Eliana shrugged. "I'm to aid you with healing and offense if needed, but he was worried about morale."

Incredulous, he stared down at her with a tense expression. "Risking your life for morale. Ridiculous."

"Are you really going to question your commander?" Eliana asked, raising her eyebrow at Cytheas.

"Of course not, but that doesn't mean I can't disagree with his decision." Cytheas swiped his forearm across his forehead, transferring the blood onto his arm. "Let's go get Jarod and head out. The sooner we find out what we're dealing with, the better."

Together, they made their way through the troops until they found Jarod towards the outer edge of the battalion. Beside him stood Brox and Rhonin, and Eliana was filled with relief to see them both alive. They too greeted her with equal fervor.

Jarod nodded at Cytheas. "We're ready when you are."

Jarod had brought Il'hadras for Cytheas, and after a quick greeting to the sabercat from Eliana, Cytheas hopped into the saddle. The rest of their small contingent followed suit, mounting up in quick succession. When Brox and Rhonin also mounted up, Cytheas looked over at them in question.

Rhonin inclined his head and said, "We've volunteered to join you. Brox and I have seen more than we wish of the Burning Legion, and hope that our expertise may come in handy."

Jarod nodded as he said, "I didn't see anything wrong with being prepared."

Cytheas guided his mount to ride beside Jarod, gesturing for Eliana to follow. "Neither do I. Let's go."

Much to her chagrin, Eliana found herself searching their small party for Illidan. When she didn't see him, she lowered her eyes to her reins in disappointment. It was silly to have hoped for him to show; he was far too important to Lord Ravencrest for the commander to send him off on a simple scouting expedition. Still, she'd hoped to have at least spoken to him before they set out.

Beside her, Cytheas leaned over and nudged her with his elbow. She looked up at him and he jerked his head back towards the battlefield. "If you're wondering where he is, he's up at the front lines with the commander. He won't be coming along."

"Oh, no, I—I wasn't—" she stammered, embarrassed at having been caught.

With a wry grin, Cytheas flicked his reins. "Of course you weren't," he muttered, low enough so that only she could hear, before racing forward.

Annoyed, she followed after him, and their small party diverged from the main army. Suramar wasn't far—perhaps only a few miles south of their location—but much of the land between them and the city was scattered with ruined foliage and destroyed settlements. There was much to sift through, and they had to avoid detection by the Burning Legion at the same time.

A few minutes into their ride, Jarod lifted his hand, indicating for the group to come to a halt. Once they'd stopped, Cytheas ambled up to him. "What is it?"

With his mouth set in a thin, tight line, Jarod jerked his chin in the direction of the field below them. The entire plain was covered with an unnaturally thick, sickly green fog. It curled around every tree husk, and coated the hills that were once alive and thriving with nature's benevolence. Eliana's stomach clenched at the nightmarish sight, and from the look of disgust and fear on the soldiers' faces, they felt the same.

Cytheas gripped his reins tightly, his knuckles pale. "What have they done?" he murmured.

In a terse, grim voice, Rhonin said, "The Burning Legion destroys everything that they touch. They pillage, they burn, they eradicate. That is what they're trying to do now, as they've done before to so many others. The fog shouldn't harm us, but it won't make our task any easier."

Brox's grip tightened on his own reins, and Eliana surmised with sadness that that must've been what the orc had experienced. Was there no end to this barbaric quest of the demons? Would her people fall to the same fate of Brox's people?

Cytheas turned away from Rhonin, staring at the dark shadow of Suramar's ramparts off in the distance. "We will not allow them to win. We cannot."

A moment of tense silence passed before Jarod flicked his reins, moving his mount forward and down the hill. "No, we can't. Let's ride."

Together, the small band of soldiers, and Eliana, descended into the fel fog, heading for Suramar. She could only hope and pray to Elune that they would return unscathed.