A collective sense of valor and hope drove the Night Elven forces towards Zin-Azshari. The entire force rode hard and they made good time, though the capital was some ways ahead still. It wasn't until two hours into the daylight that Lord Ravencrest called for them to halt and set up camp.

Eliana still felt a lingering exhaustion that she suspected wouldn't dissipate until after this was all over. A full day's rest sounded magnificent, and relief washed over her when she heard Lord Ravencrest instructing that guards be posted along the perimeter of the camp. It was never a guarantee that they wouldn't be ambushed, but she felt considerably safer nestled within their vast ranks.

The Priestesses of Elune were designated a section of the camp to themselves. Rather than setting up individual tents like most of the soldiers did, to save room and time, the priestesses would all be staying in one large tent together with the exception of the High Priestess herself.

Once their tent was erected, many of the priestesses retired for the daylight hours, getting as much rest as possible while they could. Sleep evaded Eliana, however, and she tossed and turned for much of the day. True, deep sleep never quite settled in, and she floated through the limbo of restlessness—not quite conscious but not truly asleep, either.

Eventually, when the sun began to dip below the mountains, she packed up her sleeping bag and quietly exited the tent. By Elune's good grace, the area they'd set up camp had remained unaffected by the scourge of the demons. The forest around her was tranquil, alive, and she felt a calming sort of comfort. Listlessly, she wandered to the edge of the encampment and sat down on a supply crate to watch the setting sun.

Though she preferred the pale, cool light of the moon, she had to admit that the fiery blaze of the sun was beautiful in its own way. Its golden rays filtered through the crags of the mountains and the towering pine trees, and covered the camp in a muted cloak of light. Unlike the moon, these rays were warm, and enveloped her in their balmy embrace.

Her eyes slid shut, at ease in nature's embrace, but when she heard the rustle of branches being disturbed behind her, they shot back open. In reflex, her hand flew down to the handle of her dagger. As she bolted to her feet and faced the sound, she let out a tense sigh when she saw that it was Malfurion who had come out of the forest.

In a mollifying gesture, he held out his hands when he saw her offensive posture. "I apologize if I startled you, Eliana."

"What are you doing coming out of the forest like that, Mal?" she questioned, straightening and falling back into a more relaxed stance.

"I...work better with less chance of being disturbed."

Confused, Eliana tilted her head to the side. "Doing what exactly?"

"It's hard to explain," Malfurion said, shifting his weight to his other foot. "It's easier for me to connect with nature when I'm in the midst of it, but it's also better if the environment is quiet and devoid of...distractions. Soldiers and the commotion of camp during the night hours is..."

"Quite the distraction," she finished for him. Recognition lit up her eyes then, and she asked, "Were you doing something similar to when you came to the Temple? And you needed the Chamber of the Moon?"

He smiled. "Precisely. I—"

Another loud commotion from the trees interrupted him. The sound of someone—or something—crashing through the branches got progressively louder, until Jarod Shadowsong burst out of the pine bristles, looking harried and a bit angry.

"Master Stormrage, you can't just—" He started to reprimand Malfurion, until he saw Eliana standing beside the druid. "My apologies, Priestess Starhelm, I didn't see you there."

She offered a smile, though the corners of her lips twitched in amusement. "Just Eliana is fine, Jarod. I'm nowhere near important enough to be addressed so formally."

Not only that, but hearing her surname reminded her of her father, and the fact that they still hadn't located him. A tiny voice in the back of her mind whispered that they may never find him—or at least, not alive—but she tried to quash that thought as quickly as it had manifested.

Jarod nodded in response to her statement, and then looked at Malfurion. "Master Stormrage, Lord Ravencrest assigned me to guard you, but I cannot do that if you continue to slip away and run into the forest alone."

"Continue to?" Eliana teased Malfurion, and a short sigh escaped him as he glanced over at her.

"I am not intentionally trying to lose you, Jarod, but I cannot do what I need to do—what Lord Ravencrest has asked me to do—if I am surrounded by soldiers. I am sorry, but, that includes you."

"Yes, but—"

Malfurion held up his hand, interrupting the young soldier once more. "If I promise not to leave without informing you first, can we please drop this?"

With a disgruntled expression, Jarod offered a reluctant nod before saying, "Very well. If you intend to remain with Priestess—with Eliana, I will return to my tent for the day."

"Please, Jarod, get some rest," Malfurion prompted in agreement, before taking a step closer to Eliana.

Though he still looked a bit irked, the slightest hint of gratitude flitted across Jarod's face before he stomped off back towards the inner part of camp. Eliana shook her head as she watched him go.

"He's just doing his job, Malfurion. I'm sure he doesn't intend to be... well, Jarod. He's simply eager to do his job well."

"I know that," Malfurion noted, "but I wasn't lying when I said I can't work with him hovering over me."

"I suppose that's true."

A few seconds of silence passed, before Malfurion faced Eliana. "What are you doing up so early?"

With a sigh, Eliana glanced at the setting sun. It was now below the mountain range, and the only remaining evidence of its time was the ochre slice of sky just above the peaks. The rest of the sky was rapidly darkening to a rich, deep navy.

"I couldn't sleep," she explained with a shrug.

He glanced down at his feet before a slight smile graced the corner of his lips. "I understand how that goes."

They both shuffled in place awkwardly, unsure of what to say. Though they'd always gotten along, they'd never really been alone before and didn't know each other well enough to hold up an extended conversation.

Eventually, he faced her again with an open expression. "Walk with me?"

Eliana's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh! Er...I'd be delighted to."

In silence, they ambled along the edge of the camp in a circular path with no particular destination in mind. It was an amiable silence, but Eliana still felt the pressing need to say something, though she had no idea where to start. Thankfully, Malfurion saved her the trouble.

"So...Tyrande tells me that...you have feelings for my brother."

Immediately, her cheeks darkened in embarrassment. "Does she often speak about my personal, private feelings?" she asked, a bit sharper than she'd intended to.

"Oh, no, we just...it came up in a conversation...a little while ago." Chagrined, he rubbed the back of his neck as they fell back into silence again.

"It's all right, Mal. I'm not angry, I just...it isn't exactly a secret, but I don't speak about it to everyone at every opportunity. I've told Illidan how I feel, but things are...complicated."

"Yes, aren't they always? If he feels the same way, then I am happy for you," he offered with a smile.

"Well, that's why things are complicated. He—" She broke off and glanced over at Malfurion, unsure of how much she should say. She didn't know whether Tyrande, or even Illidan himself, had told Malfurion about his twin's feelings—feelings she suspected Malfurion also had for Tyrande. "He hasn't overtly admitted to having feelings for me, no, though I hope that he is at least somewhat fond of me."

"Somewhat fond?" he echoed. "I think it goes far deeper than that, Eliana."

Again, she blushed. "I hope so."

He reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder, and she stopped walking to face him. With a true smile on his face, he said, "I've seen the way he looks at you, and I've seen the way you look at him. I do not think you simply have to 'hope' that he feels the same way. I believe that he already does."

She stared into his eyes, at a face that was so like Illidan's, and yet, not. Their features were the same, but Malfurion's expression was more open, warmer; it was the sort of face an elf that you'd trust implicitly without rhyme or reason would have. While Illidan's face was more stern, and almost always twisted into a scowl, for whatever reason, the sight of it caused her heart to flutter, whereas Malfurion's did not.

It did, however, encourage her to trust him and his words. A grateful smile spread across her face, and she reached up to squeeze his hand. "Thank you, Malfurion. It truly means a lot to me to hear that."

"You are welcome, Eliana."

By now, it was undeniably night, and the camp around them was beginning to stir. On the far end of the encampment, a group of scouts racing away on their sabercats caught her eye before she looked back at Malfurion. Finally, his gaze shifted behind her and over her shoulder. When his expression illuminated—like he was looking at the most beautiful work of art, or the most breathtaking landscape he'd ever seen—she surmised that he must've spotted Tyrande. He moved to walk past Eliana, but halted in place so suddenly that she turned as well, her brows cinched in concern.

She opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, until she spotted Illidan and Tyrande a few yards away. They must've been speaking in low tones, for their heads were rather close together. When Tyrande shook her head in denial of something Illidan had asked, his expression darkened. With a pained, tight expression, he muttered something else, and then stalked off towards the opposite end of camp.

Tyrande remained where she stood, completely still with shoulders slightly drooped. A few seconds later, Broxigar approached her, and she straightened with renewed purpose. Eliana heard the dirt shift behind her, and when she turned, Malfurion was moving past her.

"I'm going to see if she's all right. I'll see you later, I'm sure?" he asked, looking back at her for confirmation as he paused in mid-stride.

"Of course. I'll go speak with Illidan and make sure he's all right, too. He seemed upset."

Malfurion nodded. "He did. I can think of no better comfort to him than your presence," he said, before waving and heading in Tyrande's direction.

"I can," Eliana muttered under her breath, suspecting that the reason Illidan was upset was the exact reason Malfurion was ever-optimistic.

Still, despite the fact that he'd likely be no great joy to speak to at the moment, she couldn't simply let him wallow in his sorrows alone. Well, more like anger, really. Besides, he'd been there for her when she was a blubbering, emotional mess after her father disappeared, so it was the least she could do in return. With a determined nod, she strode off in the direction of the soldiers' tents, assuming he'd be posted close to Lord Ravencrest as he had been before.

When she spotted the commander's ostentatious tent, she studied its surrounding tents with a keen, thoughtful eye. They all looked identical, but she knew that Illidan had a penchant for details and, though he was nowhere near as gaudy as Lord Ravencrest, he still preferred a touch of elegance to his surroundings—unlike his twin, who preferred a style of decor more down-to-Earth and unembellished.

Her eye passed over the third tent to the left of the commander's, and when she spotted the perfect, neat way the flap was pinned back against the base, and the way the supporting ropes were tied to the stakes in perfect alignment, she beelined towards that one. As she approached the tent, she caught a whiff of sandalwood and metal, and knew with utmost certainty that she'd found him.

Her hand was already reaching out to lift the flap when she remembered herself and pulled it back, clearing her throat as she adjusted her breastplate. After a few deep breaths, she called out, "Illidan? Are you in there? It's...It's me, Eliana."

Shuffling came from within the tent, and when he stepped out and nearly collided with her, she let out a gasp and quickly stepped back; she'd expected him to reply and tell her to enter, not come out and greet her himself. He straightened and glared down at her with a gruff, tight expression. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and he looked just as grumpy as the first time she'd ever seen him. Though she knew she wasn't the object of his ire, she shifted uncomfortably all the same.

"I...I saw you speaking to Tyrande earlier. I just wanted to see how you were doing. You seemed upset," she said, cringing when she realized how juvenile and petty that sounded. By Elune, she did more than simply watch his every move, and yet, that's not what it had sounded like.

A grunt was his only response before he glanced over her head. Without a word, he waved her into his tent. When he disappeared through the flap, she followed him in. As she'd suspected, his tent was decorated far more than it needed to be for such a small stop on their journey to the capital. Like her first tent, it had an opulent, plush rug in the center of the space, and a bed that looked far more comfortable than a cot resting in the far corner. In addition to that, he had various crates stacked along the edge of the area, working as makeshift tables that were currently littered with papers and candles. Clearly, she'd interrupted his work.

He crossed the room quickly and sat back down on a crate that was propped in front of the messiest surface out of all of them. With a flick of his wrist, he said, "You can sit on the bed, if you want."

"Oh, uh, okay," she murmured, wondering if perhaps she should've just let him be until the morning. "If you wish for me to go, Illidan, I can—"

"You can sit."

She fiddled with her fingers for a second before squaring her shoulders and heading for the bed. On normal circumstances, considering their history by this point in time, she'd have no problem with his suggestion. However, this was the first time she'd been in such a private space of his—his kitchen didn't entirely count, in her opinion—and with his dour mood, it seemed a bit...out of place.

Illidan continued to work as she sat there, and she watched him scribble the occasional note down with a quill. After a few minutes had passed and he still hadn't said anything, she scooted farther back on the bed with a sigh, figuring she might as well get comfortable. The sound of her shuffling along his blanket prompted him to look up at her, and she grimaced.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you." She started twirling her fingers again, oddly nervous under his intense gaze.

He stared at her for a second before he tossed his quill onto the papers. "Don't apologize. I'm not being very sociable, am I?"

"It's all right," she reassured him, but he shook his head as he let out a sigh.

"Tyra's always telling me that I'm a terrible host. Perhaps she's right," he murmured.

After he mentioned Tyrande, he shook his head again before rising to his feet. Slowly, he paced around the room, seemingly lost in thought. With nothing else to do, she watched him as he wandered aimlessly. When he completed one revolution, he came to a halt in front of the bed and met her gaze.

A few seconds later, he asked, "Am I a fool, Eliana?"

His question caused her to frown, and she lowered her eyebrows. "I've never thought of you as a fool, Illidan. Why would you ask such a thing?"

"I feel like a fool," he admitted with a grunt as he rested his hands on his hips. "All these years I thought I stood a chance, and now... Now it seems as if I've waited too long."

Still a bit confused, Eliana recalled how his earlier conversation with Tyrande had seemed to go. He'd started out merrily enough, approaching her with an amiable expression on his face. As they'd spoken further, his countenance had darkened, and by the time Eliana and Malfurion had seen him walk away, he'd looked rather upset. Something they'd discussed, or something Tyrande had said, must've sparked this train of thought.

Hesitantly, she spoke. "Does this...does this have to do with Tyrande?"

It felt wrong asking him about such a personal matter, a matter that had nothing to do with her and everything to do with another female. But she'd come to his tent to comfort him, to be the person he could come to or speak to if he needed to vent, and so that was what she intended to try and do.

"Of course. What else?" he asked, frustrated. After making his way back to his makeshift stool, he fell down onto it and stared at her, morose. "I'm sorry. I know it isn't fair of me to speak of this with you, but...I can't go to my brother, and there really isn't anyone else."

When he seemed open to sharing how he felt with her, she let out a quiet sigh of relief. "Perhaps not, but before anything else, I'd like to believe we're friends. So I don't...I don't really mind. I'd rather we spoke about it than have you hold it all in."

The corner of his lip twitched upwards in a pseudo-smile, though it disappeared soon after. When he didn't say anything else, though, she straightened and prompted, "What exactly happened?"

"Something that shouldn't surprise me, if I'm to be honest. I approached her, thinking this would be the ideal time to tell her exactly how I felt. I'd mentioned it before, when we returned to Suramar before the first battle, but we hadn't really discussed things."

"And she said?"

"Nothing. She blew me off and said perhaps this wasn't the time. I have a feeling I'm simply too late. I'm not blind, you know. I see the way she and my brother look at each other—how every time we re-unite, he's the one she goes to first. It's always been that way, ever since we were young."

Unsure of what to say, Eliana stretched her legs out and rested her arms in her laps. A few seconds later, she opted for, "I'm sorry, Illidan. Perhaps there is still hope?"

A wry smile graced his lips then, and he looked up at her with his chin angled down. "If that had come from anyone else, I'd have believed they'd meant it, but...I know you really don't."

She cinched her eyebrows in annoyance. "That's not fair. I just want you to be happy, Illidan. If this makes you upset, then of course I'd wish for there to still be hope."

"But if there is no hope for me and Tyrande, wouldn't that mean I'd have all the more reason to see you?"

Her mouth dropped open indignantly, and she sputtered in protest. "I—I—That's not what I meant at all! I would never wish for that!"

His teasing smile slowly dissipated and he traipsed over to the bed, sitting down with a fwoomp and a deep sigh. He leaned back, and his shoulder brushed against hers. "I know you wouldn't. You're far too good for that."

Unsure of what to say in response, she looked down at her hands in her lap, clenched tightly in response to their conversation. Illidan must have sensed her trepidation, because his large hand engulfed her slim ones a few seconds later. She glanced up at him, and when her silver eyes met his amber ones, he spoke.

"I did not mean it as an insult, Eliana. It's one the things I value about you. Most elves...are not so honest, and truly good."

Somehow, no matter what way a situation drifted, Illidan always seemed to know what to say or do to make people agree with him. This one was no different. Eliana's cheeks darkened and she squeezed his hand, thankful for his words. To her surprise, he didn't pull away like she'd expected him to. They sat there, hand-in-hand, for a few amiable minutes.

Finally, he took a deep breath and said, "I know that it is stupid to still harbor hope. Perhaps it is time I simply give up on her."

She traced the veins on the back of his hand as she murmured, "As a Priestess of Elune, I can safely tell you that it is never stupid to harbor hope. Hope is what keeps us going; it drives us forward, gives us something to fight for, a reason to continue on. We should never just give up."

"But war and love are two very different things."

At that, Eliana glanced up at him. When he looked over at her, she quietly asked, "Are they?"

Intently, he stared into her eyes, his brows furrowed slightly in thought. After a few seconds, instead of replying, he reached up and traced her jaw. "How can I argue with your sound wisdom?"

A chuckle escaped her, and she tried to look away, but he held her chin in place. When she looked back at him, he slowly leaned in, his gaze trained on her lips. Briefly, the thought of always being second to Tyrande, of never being the one that Illidan thought of first flitted through her mind, but then his lips met hers, and all of her worries disappeared.

It was nowhere near as long as the kisses they'd shared prior, but it was no less intense. When he pulled back, he traced his thumb across her lower lip. He moved to speak, but the shrill sounding of Lord Ravencrest's horn shattered the silence of the camp.

Illidan leaned back, his head turning towards the flap of his tent with concern etched on his face. "That's the horn to march. I wonder what's happened."

Quickly, Eliana slid off of his bed. "We should go find out."

"Agreed," he said, leading the way out of the tent.

Together, they briskly made their way to the commander's tent. When they brushed the flap aside and headed in, they were met with what appeared to be a small war council.

Lord Ravencrest himself was standing behind the strategy table, flanked by the flame-haired sorcerer Eliana had met before, and Cytheas. To the side of the sorcerer stood a pale, tall being that Eliana did not recognize. His ears tapered up and behind his head much like their own, but his skin was so white, he nearly seemed transparent. His hair was equally as waxen, and though she could sense the strength of his magic from across the space, he seemed...tired, almost.

In the far corner to their right stood Broxigar with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. Clearly, he'd been present for whatever discussion had taken place, but it didn't appear as if he'd been entirely included.

Illidan stepped forward, his head swiveling from side to side in confusion. "Where is my brother, my lord?"

Lord Ravencrest gestured to the entrance they'd just come from. "I've sent word for them to prepare to mobilize the Priestesses of Elune. I believe he was with them."

Illidan nodded in acceptance—though Eliana saw his expression twist in displeasure ever-so-briefly—and he moved to stand beside Cytheas and the flame-haired sorcerer. Eliana drifted towards the corner to stand next to Broxigar, and that was when Lord Ravencrest pointed to the map on the table in front of him.

"If the scouts spotted the refugees here—" A thud echoed throughout the room as he jabbed his finger onto the table. "—then we should ride out and meet them. We should be able to reach them in time, if the reports are accurate."

"And if they aren't?" Cytheas questioned.

"Then we save as many as we can," the commander instructed with a grim set to his lips.

Illidan lowered his brows in confusion. "What refugees are we speaking of?"

"Reports have returned of a group of refugees trying to escape the clutches of a band of demons—mostly Eredar. The commander wishes to attempt to sideline the demons and rescue the refugees," Cytheas explained.

"Then we ride now," Illidan affirmed.

Lord Ravencrest and Cytheas nodded, and Illidan pressed his fist to his chest. "I will prepare the Moon Guard."

"Good. We ride in five," Lord Ravencrest instructed, rolling up the maps and handing them to Cytheas.

The pale, elven-featured male leaned in towards Lord Ravencrest and appeared to be rebutting the plan, but the commander waved his advice aside before striding out of the tent.

Illidan moved for the entrance, but paused in front of Eliana before he stepped outside. They stared at one another in silence, before Illidan reached out and grasped her hand tightly in his. With a terse nod, which she returned, he left the tent.

Cytheas had been right on his heels, but instead of heading out of the tent like she thought he would, he too approached her. They'd had little chance to speak since the troops had left Black Rook Hold, so Eliana found it comforting to see his face. He winked at her, likely because of the short interaction she and Illidan had just had, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she shook her head at his mirth. How he managed to find humor in all sorts of serious situations, she had no idea.

"What would I do without you, Cyth?" she asked, a teasing smile on her face.

"I wonder that too, sometimes." He stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders as he stared down into her eyes. "You will be safe, yes? I know I say that every time, and you're likely tired of hearing it, but we're going back into battle and...I cannot be by your side every second."

"I will, Cytheas. But only as long as you will be, too. I've already—" She broke off and took a deep breath. "I'm afraid that I've already lost my father. I cannot lose you, too."

He let out a short breath, and the corner of his lips twitched upwards. "You won't," he murmured. After pulling her in for a brief, but tight embrace, he left the tent.

Eliana watched them go before turning back around. When the pale stranger approached her, she bowed in reverence, though she couldn't quite explain the reason why. Rhonin, the flame-haired sorcerer, gestured to the male and said, "Priestess Eliana, this is Krasus, my mentor and a good friend."

"Sir Krasus, the honor is mine."

A warm, low chuckle filled the space. "Simply Krasus will do, child. The pleasure is most certainly mine." His smile faded ever-so-slightly, and he asked, "You are close with young Illidan, yes?"

"We are friends, yes," Eliana admitted. "Why do you wish to know, if I may ask?"

"Would it be too much of me to ask you to keep an eye on him during battle? He is powerful, but I worry that, unchecked, his magic could run rampant."

Concerned, Eliana pressed her lips together. This was the first she'd heard of Illidan possibly being unable to control his magic, and it concerned her. "It may be difficult for me to leave my sisters, but I can see if the High Priestess would be willing to station me in a group closer to the Moon Guard."

"Please do. Rhonin and I will do what we can to supervise him, but in the heat of battle, as I'm sure you know, things can be amiss."

Again, Eliana bowed her head. "Of course, Sir Krasus."

A short half-sigh, half-chuckle left the male, and he briefly touched her shoulder before he too left the tent. Rhonin was not far behind, and that left Eliana and Broxigar. The orc turned to Eliana and nodded, a grim expression on his face.

She returned the gesture and asked, "Would you like to go find Tyrande, Brox?"

"I have already spoken to the shaman, but this warrior thanks you. I will be at your sides on the battlefield," he grunted, patting the broad handle of his war axe.

"Then, I am grateful for your presence. We are safer for it. In that case, I shall go find my sisters and, as always, Elune's blessings upon you, Brox."

He bowed his head gratefully before trekking after the other soldiers, his steps heavy and thudding on the dirt.

Hastily, Eliana made her way back to the area the Priestesses' tent had been erected in. Most of the camp had already been taken down, and the soldiers were securing their supplies to the spare sabers in the herd. As she scurried past, she noted that Illidan's tent had also been packed up; he was likely at the front of the formation already.

When she arrived at the priestesses' tent, her sisters were already packed and preparing to saddle up. She scanned their ranks, searching for Tyrande's tell-tale mane, but couldn't find her anywhere. Unfortunately, Malfurion was also nowhere to be seen, and she surmised that he too had joined the main battalion.

She'd moved to head to the other end of the squad, when Tyrande appeared from behind a stack of crates. The sudden movement prompted Eliana to glance over, and Tyrande beelined for her as soon as they made eye contact. Oddly enough, there was a bow and quiver in her hands.

In lieu of a greeting, Tyrande asked, "Where have you been?"

"I was with Illidan for a moment and then we met Lord Ravencrest in his tent. Why, what's the matter?"

"Nothing, I simply didn't want to ride out without you. High Priestess Dehjana has assigned us to the same squad."

Relief flooded through Eliana. At least there was one person she cared about that she could keep an eye on. "Thank Elune."

Tyrande nodded, her expression mirroring Eliana's. "I said the same. We are to be nearby the Moon Guard, acting as medical support when needed. Otherwise, we are to fill the role of full offense."

Eliana nodded in acknowledgment, pleased that both situations had worked out so well. "Lord Krasus asked us to keep an eye on Illidan, though he wasn't very informative as to the reason why."

"Lord Krasus is concerned for Illidan?"

"You know Lord Krasus?" Eliana questioned.

"I've met him—once. He..." Tyrande trailed off, seemingly unsure of what to say.

It seemed strange that Eliana knew exactly what Tyrande was trying to explain. There had been this...aura about Krasus, this compelling strength, and magical prowess that immediately demanded a strong sense of respect. It felt like she knew him, though she knew that wasn't true.

Eventually, Eliana said, "I couldn't explain the way I felt about him, either."

Tyrande nodded, and they stared at each other in silent communication. A few seconds later, Tyrande handed her the bow and quiver. "These are for you."

"You know I can't use this very well," Eliana protested, her face scrunching up in embarrassment.

"I've seen Cytheas train you. You're proficient enough to use them in an emergency. I know you prefer your daggers, but just in case you need these, I want you to have them."

Warmth flooded Eliana's chest and she briefly touched her hand to her heart before taking the weapon from Tyrande. "Thank you, Sister."

Tyrande smiled. "Of course," she said, before she turned and walked away with Eliana on her heel. "Mount up. We should be riding out momentarily."

"Affirmative." She branched off and headed for Kal'Shalla, who was just beside Tyrande's mount. With a quick, affectionate rub behind the sabercat's ears in greeting, she hopped into her saddle and adjusted the quiver and bow on her back before ensuring that her daggers were secure in their sheaths.

Within seconds, a second horn sounded out throughout the camp. One-by-one, a few of her sisters filed in next to her and Tyrande pulled her mount around to face them. "We ride to the front of the troop, my sisters! For Elune!"

"For Elune!" they echoed back, weapons raised into the air in added fervor.

A sudden bout of nerves swarmed over Eliana, and her palms broke out into a sweat, even though they were encased in her leather gloves. Though it had been a few weeks since they last rode into battle, it still seemed too soon to return to an environment rife with pain and death. It would always be too soon. Her posture must've betrayed her, because Tyrande reached over and held her hand out to Eliana.

Surprised, Eliana glanced up at her fellow priestess. When Tyrande offered a reassuring, warm smile, ease flooded through Eliana, and she placed her hand in her friend's outstretched one. Things were different this time around, because they were all fighting together to save their people.

Briefly, they squeezed each other's hands before Tyrande let go and faced forward again. With a resounding cry, she broke out into a run, leading her squad to where Illidan and his Moon Guard were, just to the left of Lord Ravencrest.

They sidled up to the sorcerers and Illidan glanced over in response, his eyebrows furrowed low over his eyes. When he saw Eliana and Tyrande at the forefront of their squad, his expression darkened in displeasure. "What in Elune's name are you two doing here?"

Eliana was unsure whether he meant at his side, or at the front lines. Thankfully, Tyrande maneuvered the situation as gracefully as always, and explained, "We're your support. Someone has to watch over you."

At that, Illidan's expression worsened. Clearly, he didn't seem to take Tyrande's teasing very well, and quickly, Eliana added, "High Priestess Dehjana has assigned us as your healing aid. If you or any of your Moon Guard need us, we'll be there, Illidan."

At that, Illidan's expression smoothed out, though he still didn't look entirely too happy with being assigned anything akin to supervision. However, he couldn't deny that, in times of war, having aid immediately nearby could never hurt. He also didn't have time to protest as Lord Ravencrest sounded the final horn for the force to finally ride out.

All he could do was send a stern look in their direction. When he met her gaze, she knew it was one he meant to mean, "Stay safe".

Not long after, Lord Ravencrest and his main squad lurched forward and before she knew it, they were all riding ahead for the forests of Kalimdor.