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In Quel'Thalas...

"I hope you can understand Thalassian, Paladin." The queen, wearing the blue hood and gilded chain armor of a Ranger General of Quel'Thalas, had told Grayson without irony before they departed Lordaeron along with Lady Liadrin by way of the red orb translocation device still positioned in a side courtyard not far from the city's main entry. "Those present at this gathering won't be speaking human common."

It was still another reminder of the conditions of the "new life" he had embraced since falling from his gryphon's back. Human common was so widely known that even most members of the Horde understood at least a few words. It was the main lingua franca used for trade across Azeroth, and could be heard spoken by human, elf, Orc, or goblin among the apolitical Orders. But the elves of Quel'Thalas would have no need to resort to it at a gathering of their own people. He would be the outsider. It would be his responsibility to keep up.

"It's rusty, but yes." Had been his response. In truth, he had picked up Thalassian as a much younger man towards the end of the second war when Quel'Thalas had been a solid member of the Alliance, but had only recently had the chance to practice it during the Legion war with the Blood Knights who had become an integral part of the Order of the Silver Hand. He could understand more than he could actually speak, however.

"Good, I don't want to have to hold your hand through this." Liadrin had then responded in Thalassian.

He had understood her meaning clearly, both explicit and implicit. She still didn't trust him for many reasons. Grayson had not known Liadrin well even during the Legion war. He had spent much of that conflict within the Sanctum of Light as a strategist assisting the Paladin Highlord with logistics, planning strikes, and with coordinating the resources of the Order of the Silver Hand. It had been an important if inglorious role for the Stormwind Paladin lord. Liadrin had frequently been out in the field under fire alongside Lord Tyrosus, the Night Elf Paladin Delas Moonfang, and Vindicator Boros when she wasn't called on to lead Silvermoon's own troops against the Legion forces in Suramar City. He hadn't actually worked closely for any length of time with any of the Sunwalkers or the Blood Knights, communicating with them when he needed to for missions and no more, and at the time had been secretly thankful he hadn't. He had imagined waking up one morning on a mission only to find an elven or Tauren sword in his back.

He could never have imagined the role he was now being called to play. It would have been unthinkable.

The strange turn of events in Grayson's life over the last week and a half was beginning to take its toll, those events becoming more and more surreal as they unfolded around him. He didn't know how much more drastic change his mind could take. In that time, he had gone from the intent of destroying Jeshua's followers to joining them. He had gone from rejecting and despising Jeshua to serving him with his whole heart and mind willingly. He had moved from despising Sylvanas Windrunner, warchief of the Horde, to agreeing to help her reconcile those elves which were hostile to the Horde. And while he found himself still not necessarily in her good graces, she at least was not still aiming an arrow at his unarmored breast.

After she had lowered her arrow from its lethal mark in the Cathedral, she then appeared to be wrestling with herself as she looked at him appraisingly for several minutes. And then she stunned everyone present when the queen requested that Grayson Shadowbreaker accompany her and the Blood Knight Matriarch to Quel'Thalas. It had surprised no one more than himself when he found himself agreeing to help the Warchief of the Horde.

Was he himself now a traitor to Stormwind for doing it? He wrestled hard with that question. But the greater question which always came to him in response was, "Who is your first allegiance to?"

The answer would always be, then and forever, the Holy Light. And he knew it had been the Light calling him to serve it in this way, and not the Horde or the Alliance, by assisting Sylvanas in bringing peace and not more bloodshed to the people of her birth.

And within him he had felt more than heard Jeshua explicitly telling him, Go with her. He took it as an order from his true sovereign lord and obeyed. Yes, my lord.

They had been immediately teleported from Lordaeron City to a chamber just off the throne room of the royal palace within Silvermoon City. He had as a matter of course experienced teleportation magic many times, but he found himself just slightly disoriented and his stomach a touch queazy at the abruptness and immediateness of the efficient, ruby colored, elven orb which gave no warning, no time to prepare oneself for being relocated as a Hearthstone or a mage's portal did.

The three were met by a tall elven man with long white blond hair and crimson eye patch. A long scar ran across his face which looked worn out and tired as though the burdens and welfare of an entire nation about which he cared deeply fell on his shoulders and was threatening to crush him entirely. He wore crimson, regal robes with gilded fringes over a leather and chain hauberk. A two handed sword of uniquely elven make hung from a harness on his back.

He had been accompanied by an honor guard of half a dozen elven soldiers in golden ceremonial armor reminiscent of the firebirds Grayson had heard of which resurrected themselves from the flames when they died.

The elven nobleman greeted his Warchief politely in the elvish tongue, "Thank you for coming, although I had hoped it would have been sooner."

"It couldn't be helped, Lor'themar. I am Warchief of the entire Horde, not only of Quel'Thalas." Sylvanas had replied in the same language, her voice hard with authority. "I had far too many Orc shipping captains to placate, and bereaved families to see to because of what's happening here."

And then Lor'themar's eyes fell on the bare foot human stranger he did not know. Sylvanas had insisted that Grayson wear something else than the dirty, plain clothes with which he had entered the Cathedral, and Liadrin had agreed that his smelly, worn travel attire wouldn't do. She had been adamant that her elven kin would hesitate at the very least with the presence of an outsider, they would be aghast at one dressed as a homeless vagrant. It had been Alonsus Faol who had then remembered a set of plain white cassock and trousers that had sat folded in a sealed chest in the cloister unused and forgotten. They had been initiate's robes from the time before Lordaeron had fallen to the Scourge, and a far cry from his gilded nobleman's armor. The only adornment had been a monogram on the accompanying stole which reflected a devotion to the Holy Light. The Paladin had donned the clean clothing, but Grayson had insisted on leaving his feet bare as Jeshua had. Sylvanas had pronounced him acceptable.

"Why is this human here?" Lor'themar asked brusquely, addressing the two elven women. "This matter concerns our own people, not outsiders."

Sylvanas paused for a moment and then responded with the same tone of authority, "Because I chose to bring him, Lor'themar. That should be enough of a reason for you."

Lor'themar's expression had then reacted as though he had been physically slapped, even though she hadn't laid a hand on him. "Of... Of course, Warchief, but the Quel'dorei may not see it the way the Sindorei would."

"This human is one of Jeshua's... emissaries." Lady Liadrin spoke up, her own face set as though ready for combat. "The Warchief believed it would be beneficial if the risen Quel'dorei met one of the representatives of the man responsible for their resurrection, and that he is no enemy of the Horde."

The faintest glimmer of surprise at Liadrin's words passed across Sylvanas' features before they too hardened once more into that of a Warchief that did not take well to having her decisions questioned. She added nothing verbally to Liadrin's explanation, but her facial expression spoke volumes as it demanded the Regent Lord submit to her will.

Surprised and disturbed by Liadrin's explanation, Grayson once more wrestled within himself. I am no enemy of the Horde? He felt his grip on his previous life slipping even further from his grasp. My first allegiance is to the Holy Light, not to the Alliance. He reminded himself, though the unease did not lessen quickly. And then her explanation of his presence fully registered, She called me one of Jeshua's emissaries? That deception didn't sit well with him at all. He did not feel worthy of such a title on any level.

What could she have been thinking? He wondered. Better to call me a slave, or an attendant of some kind.

Nevertheless, he responded in heavily accented, but recognizable Thalassian, "I live to serve the Holy Light through Jeshua Lightborn." He didn't know where the words came from, though he knew they were true.

"Very well." Lor'themar relented, considering this. "Perhaps it is wisdom after all. Please, come. There are mages waiting to teleport us to Tranquilien."

He gestured for them to begin walking. Sylvanas then took the lead as he came up next to her to continue their conversation.

"Tranquilien?" Grayson heard Sylvanas question, an uncertain tone in her voice.

"Yes, I have been informed that the Quel'dorei delegates will be waiting for us there... along with your sisters, Vereesa and Alleria, Warchief. I am led to believe that they have resumed their occupation of your family's former holdings at Windrunner Spire and are using it as a base of operations." Lor'themar told her.

Sylvanas' whole body appeared to tense up at the mention of her ancestral roots even as she walked. It took a minute before she replied, "As I might have expected them to. Those lands are just as much theirs as they are mine."

"Of course, Warchief." Lor'themar answered.

It hit Grayson just then that Sylvanas Windrunner did have a family. That she did have emotions and feelings. He had known it of course, that some time before she had died she had to have had a family. How could she not have had? But for so long he had seen her as only the Banshee, the undead ruler of undead horrors, incapable of emotion or feeling. Suddenly he realized she was a living, breathing person. She had been someone's daughter before the Lich King stole her life from her, and someone's sister. There had been people who had loved her, and that she had loved in return, and those relationships had been brutally twisted and damaged by Arthas' violation of her. Silently, in spite of himself, his heart went out to her as he gauged the pained reaction she tried to hide at the mention of her sisters.

They reached an ornate chamber where three elven mages in crimson and purple robes stood waiting. Lor'themar gave a signal and the entire party gathered together tightly in a circle in the middle of the room The magic users took up positions at three points around the party and began their incantations.

Grayson knew the magic very well as he mentally prepared himself for the shift and counted down from ten as the blue shimmering power built around them until it reached a crescendo and Grayson's silent count reached zero. And then in a flash of light, the chamber was empty.

And Grayson found himself and the rest of the party he had teleported with in the middle of a High Elven village situated on both sides of a paved stone highway. The domed, gilded buildings were elegant and graceful even in their current state of repair or lack thereof. The sky above was clear and sunny, the noon time sun having reached its apex just then, and the scents of fragrant trees wafted on cool breezes. He had never visited Quel'Thalas before, but the sights and the scents, and the sounds of the woods which surrounded the town were everything he might have imagined the elven lands would be, magical and beautiful.

Sylvanas too appeared to be affected, though she struggled to hide it, Grayson briefly saw her eyes mist over at the sight of her restored homeland. It had then occurred to him that she had not made the return home in a long, long time. How many memories must be surfacing by being here? How many of them pleasant, how many not? He wondered.

Around them, interspersed among the buildings, and surrounding makeshift cooking fires were elves, men and women, young and old, though none who appeared young enough to be children. Among them were a few humans still wearing armor and clothing decorated with the symbols of death which had been favored by the Forsaken once upon a time not long before, although their tabards had been replaced by the new white, gold, and red symbol of Lordaeron.

"Your majesty! Thank you for coming!" A human man in armor came up quickly but respectfully to address the Warchief also in Thalassian, dropping to one knee and bowing as he did. "High Executor Mavren, at your command."

"Rise, High Executor. What is happening?" She told him, assuming a business like posture and persona, ignoring the additional dampness in her eyes as she met his unflinchingly.

"There is a table set up with seats for the delegates inside the meeting house. Appropriate food and drink has been conjured by those mages with the skills. The Quel'dorei have already gathered and been seated inside alongside those of our own people." The man told her, motioning to the large domed, guilded white marble building with arched ramps like wings just to the east of the highway.

"They are all our people, High Executor. Remember that." Sylvanas mildly rebuked him for his use of words.

"Of course, your majesty. My apologies." The man replied, humbled. "I should mention, Vereesa and Alleria Windrunner have also taken seats inside as well. They have... They have not been helpful." He told her trying to be tactful. "It's all we can do to keep the newly risen here from outright rebellion."

"So I have been told." She replied, once more tensing up at the mention of her sisters' names. She then added, "You have done well so far keeping what peace you have under the circumstances. I commend you for it."

Surprised by what was generous praise coming from her, the man responded humbly as he bowed his head to her with one fist over his beating heart, "I only do my duty, your majesty, but thank you."

"Shall we?" Lor'themar Theron then asked somewhat pleasantly, having witnessed the exchange.

Sylvanas turned and took the lead, followed by the Regent Lord. Lady Liadrin and the High Executor as they were flanked by the Silvermoon City royal guard. Grayson, being invited by the Warchief, stood next to Liadrin behind her and Lor'themar in the procession as they made their way to the elven town's meeting hall.

He could feel many pairs of elvish eyes on them, though hadn't observed any ill will. Instead, upon sight of Sylvanas, he could see some hopeful expressions in those eyes as they recognized their former military leader and hero, trying to work out what had happened to them over the last month.

Grayson wondered how many of the knew about the change which had recently been wrought in her as well. Would they have seen her as a hero if they had known about who and what she had been for the last thirty years?

It would help no one if they did. He decided. Who she was is clearly not who she is now.

They entered to find a large open chamber within the elvish building. True to the High Executor's word, there was a long meeting table and several plush, comfortable chairs ringing it which had been provided for the gathering. Crimson and Sapphire draping had been raised above opposite sides of the table, and magically produced lights floated in globes around the circumference of the room. The table itself had been covered with a purple silken table cloth, and golden goblets, plateware, and utensils. Bottles of wine and several dishes of Thalassian delicacies were spread along it. Elves dressed in serving clothes waited along the walls for someone to gesture for their services.

"Forgive me for the spartan nature of the room. Our resources have been sparse as I'm sure you can imagine." The High Executor apologized as he drew up next to Lor'themar.

Grayson had to remind himself of the opulence to which the Sindorei and the Quel'dorei were accustomed to put his comment into context. Still, he felt it ironic at best.

"It is adequate for our purposes." The Regent Lord replied in a generous tone.

A gasp was heard from across the chamber as the Warchief entered the room, her sapphire blue hood drawn over her head only barely hiding her face. Grayson's attention was drawn to a younger looking, attractive elven woman who bore a striking resemblance to Lordaeron's current queen. The woman had stood up from where she sat at the opposite end of the table as Sylvanas became visible to her. She had white blond hair braided back into a thick pony tail, and wore the armor and livery of the Silver Covenant faction of High Elves who had remained loyal to the Alliance. Both of her gloved hands had been brought involuntarily to her mouth in shock, her eyes wide at the sight of Sylvanas' living flesh.

Sylvanas' attention as well had been drawn to the elven woman immediately, as well as the other woman sitting at her sister's right hand who bore more than a passing resemblance to her. This woman wore a ranger's hood and cloak similar to the Warchief's chosen attire, except that they were a faded forest green. A bow and quiver of arrows were held securely to her back. Grayson could not see this woman's full expression, but only her mouth under her hood which appeared to twist in surprise as well.

The Warchief's expression grew sad as she looked upon both of her sisters for the first time in many, many years, since the second war if Grayson remembered correctly. She drew back her own sapphire hood to reveal her full, living, and, if the human was to be honest, heart stoppingly beautiful elven features for everyone to see, but said nothing by way of address to her kin. Only acknowledging their presence, a look of melancholy on her face as she saw them.

Sylvanas settled at the head of the table opposite her sister, Vereesa at the other end. Lor'themar took his position at Sylvanas' right hand, where Lady Liadrin, as the Matriarch of the Blood Knights, took her position at Sylvanas' left. The Paladin Lady gestured for Grayson to join her at her own left hand. The High Executor sat at Lor'themar's right hand. Opposite them were several elves which Grayson did not recognize at all, but assumed they had been among those restored after the New Dawn.

Except... they felt dark to him as he took his seat. He noticed as well that the one, a woman with jet black hair, who sat immediately next to him looked physically disgusted or ill as he sat down and attempted to move her own seat further from him.

As Grayson looked around the table, he realized that most of the Quel'dorei delegation were discreetly and not so discreetly directing their eyes uncomfortably towards him. At first, he thought it was because he was human, but they paid no such attention to the balding but virile High Executor who was clearly human himself in spite of his fluent Thalassian.

There were several tense moments as the elder Windrunner sister also appeared to be appraising Grayson's presence as though something about him upset her. He did not know what it might be however. He had not said one word since entering.

"It is... good to see you again, sister." Alleria finally spoke, addressing Sylvanas, as she drew back her own ranger's hood to reveal a woman who was every bit her younger sister's equal in beauty and natural authority. "In spite of your new found allegiances."

"I would say the same to you, Alleria. It has been a long time." Sylvanas replied, her own voice even. "And also to you, Vereesa."

"But I must insist that this human you have brought with you leave at once." Alleria then demanded. "He is an outsider with no stake and no useful input into these discussions."

Surprised, Grayson then looked to those he had come with for any indication for what he should do, but the Warchief's gaze hardened as she replied with one authoritative word, "No."

"No? Just like that you would force an outsider on us?" Alleria responded. "Is that what the Horde does? Is that who you've become?"

"Grayson Shadowbreaker is a representative of the man who gave all of the restored Quel'dorei back their lives. It is only because of the death and resurrection of Jeshua Lightborn that we are even sitting here today having this discussion. He stays." She told her older sister in no uncertain terms.

And then Grayson thought he saw the elder Windrunner sister flinch at the mention of Jeshua's name. Once more, many of those other high elves around the table also looked ill when Sylvanas said his name.

What is going on here? Grayson wondered as his own instincts, honed by combat, kicked in. It felt as though he were in a room surrounded by hostiles, even though supposedly in support of the Alliance, and he didn't know why. They should have been more accepting of a human presence, not less.

Alleria laughed, a mocking unnatural laugh. "Lies. Horde lies all of it." She announced to those present. "How could anything like this have originated within Horde occupied territory." The timbre of her voice... there was something not quite right with it.

Next to her, Vereesa nodded in agreement. "We've been fighting against the Horde long enough to know that nothing good can originate from them. Theramore, the destruction of a peaceful druid academy in the Stone Talon mountains, the betrayal at the Broken Shore which resulted in Varian Wrynn's death. Need I go on, sister?"

Sylvanas visibly winced at the mention of the Broken Shore. It had been her decision to call the retreat when Warchief Vol'jin had falled in battle. If she hadn't, the Horde leadership would have completely collapsed and they all would have died anyway, including Varian Wrynn. But the Alliance had never seemed to understand or forgive.

"This has nothing to do with Horde or Alliance." Sylvanas responded, controlling her voice. "We're here today to talk about why your people fired on ships carrying food and supplies to Quel'Thalas."

"Horde transports." Alleria then said, almost spitting the words.

"Does it really matter where they come from? Our people here in Quel'Thalas need the supplies now more than ever whether they come from Orc farms or human ones. The restored human populations of Lordaeron have been receiving their supplies from Orgrimmar as well as the Argent Crusade without incident." Sylvanas told them. "High Overlord Saurfang has been more than generous, as has High Chieftain Bloodhoof, and you repaid that generosity with damaging Orc ships and murdering Orc sailors. I have neither seen nor heard of supplies being delivered from Alliance lands to Quel'Thalas. Either let the shipping come through and make landfall, or watch our newly living people starve themselves back into their graves."

Sylvanas hadn't raised her voice. Her tone, forceful though it had been, was not threatening, but matter of fact. Still, as Grayson looked around, he knew it wasn't having the effect she had wanted. Her sisters and their companions had walked into the meeting chamber with their minds already made up. Around him, he could feel a shadow rising.

"Is that so, sister?" Alleria returned, twisting her words. "You would see our people starve rather than have us seek assistance from our true allies in Stormwind, Ironforge, and Darnassus?"

"No. I would not, but it is clear to me that you would, Alleria." Sylvanas answered her, her own voice taking on steel. "That is not the Ranger or sister that loved our people that I remember."

Alleria stood up from where she sat, "It doesn't matter what you look like now. You will always be the monster that the Lich King created." She spat at her sister, taunting her.

Grayson listened to the exchange between the two sisters feeling powerless and wondering why he had been instructed to be here. It broke his heart and the vicious words being spoken all while there were truly people suffering who needed their help.

Step aside, Grayson. A voice spoke within him. Let me handle this.

What? He responded internally, confused at the instruction.

Look carefully at Alleria and her companions. See what the Shadow doesn't want anyone else here to see. He was told.

Grayson then turned his eyes towards Alleria and studied her. The Light within him then enveloped his eyes and he saw. He saw the shadowy truth surrounding and speaking through the elven woman, and he saw that woman trapped and gagged.

The familiar voice intoned within him, Step aside and surrender yourself to me. It's time I put an end to this charade. It's time to set Alleria free.

He knew the voice and its owner. It was the same being who had led him to come with the Horde Warchief to be there at that very moment. He looked deep within himself and called on the Light for peace to let the owner of that voice to take control as he will.

I surrender to you, my lord. He responded. Use me as you will.

And then Grayson found himself standing up from the table. It was his choice to stand up, it was his movements and his motions, but... it was also as though he were observing himself as a bystander. He observed a soft glowing golden radiance envelope him, his hands and his person. He heard words coming from his mouth as he addressed Alleria Windrunner, and saw those elves seated near her back away from him as though in pain.

"Enough!" The word exploded almost forcefully from his own lips. "Be silent, servant of the Void!"

Instant, Alleria's mouth went closed as if against her will. When she tried to open it, no sound would come out and she began sputtering and making angry, enraged faces at him that seemed almost demonic in nature but far, far more dangerous and maniacal than those demons he had fought against in the past.

"What is going on?" Vereesa demanded as she too stood up and looked between the man dressed as a Holy Priest and her oldest sister. "What are you doing?"

"It isn't your sister speaking, Vereesa." He then responded, much to his own surprise, in fluent Thalassian. "It hasn't been for several years."

Grayson then left his seat and deliberately moved around the table to where Alleria Windrunner had been seated. He felt his hands and arms lift to reach towards her as he did. Both of his hands glowed with radiant, holy white Light.

Alleria stumbled over her chair as she tried to escape from him, NO! She screamed silently, mouthing the words, DON'T TOUCH ME! She backed herself up against a wall as Grayson approached her.

And then a deep, unnatural voice could be heard shouting, "NO! SHE'S MINE!" Though no one could say for certain who spoke it or where it had come from.

Around them, everyone else appeared frozen in shock at what was happening.

"Jeshua Lightborn releases you from this Void possession, dear one. Be free." Grayson told her, and then placed the palm of his hand against the bare skin of her upper right arm.

And then all anyone heard was a deep, throaty scream as the Holy Light enveloped Alleria Windrunner banishing the Shadow which had possessed her for so long since her encounter with a Void god in the Seat of the Triumvirate on the shattered remains of Argus. That Shadow attempted to manifest and wrap itself even tighter around the elven woman, reinforcing its hold, but everywhere it tried to bring further into the Void, the purifying Light purged it, searing the shadow away from the woman, separating it and enveloping it in holy flames that carefully did not touch the Alleria's own flesh or soul.

Many of those other elves which had been with her then erupted into deep screams themselves as void shadows began to envelope their bodies in its darkness. "NO! You cannot stop us! The Void is eternal and all consuming!" They yelled as tendrils of darkness began to lash out towards Grayson. "It will destroy you all!"

As Alleria's form was wrapped in and purified by the Light. Grayson then turned and calmly looked towards the Void possessed elves which had revealed themselves. Once more he watched them as a mere observer, and the words which left his lips were not his own even as he said them willingly.

"Hold." He spoke, his voice filled with authority and power, and the tendrils disappeared, the elves themselves freezing where they stood. And then his next words were, "Leave them at once and never return!"

Terror spread over the Void elves features as they twisted in rage and confusion. And then from each one of them an inky, shadowy darkness bled out and coalesced into a barely recognizable humanoid form of pure shadow. Those shadows found themselves fleeing desperately from the presence of the Holy Light that Grayson was manifesting. It was a presence in which no darkness could survive and they knew it. Within seconds, they were nowhere to be found as the elves which had harbored them collapsed unconscious on the floor.

"What just happened here?" Vereesa demanded to know, her own voice panicked.

Grayson then turned to see the rest of the delegates at the table on their feet and surrounding himself and those he had just exorcised. Many of them had weapons in their hands, and the Warchief was no exception, her bow nocked with an arrow, though it appeared she did not know who or what to aim it at. It was strange that he hadn't noticed them leave their seats or move in any way as the Light had led him to engage the darkness.

He then turned his attention back to Alleria who lay slumped against the back wall unconscious. Once more, he called on the Light's power, and with a single, gentle touch to her forehead, the Light flowed from his person and into the woman who then gasped as her sapphire blue eyes flew open and looked around in surprise and shock.

"Vereesa?" She asked, looking up towards her youngest sister who had still stood frozen next to where she had sat. Her voice was pained and emotional as tears ran down her cheeks. And then she turned her head to see her other sister across the room, surprise and familiarity written in her eyes. "Sylvanas, is that really you?"

Vereesa rushed to her sister's fallen side and held her hand as the woman exclaimed with tears, "It's been so dark for so long! I'm... I'm sorry... I didn't have any control over what I said or what I did... I didn't know what was real and what wasn't. I..."

And just then, tears erupted from the Warchief's own eyes as she dropped her weapons, her hands releasing them involuntarily, and hurried to join Vereesa by Alleria's side on the floor of the meeting hall.

Grayson got to his feet and backed away respectfully watching the scene.

"Alleria, I..." Sylvanas didn't know what to say as she gripped her oldest sister's hand.

"Oh, Sylvanas, Vereesa, I'm so, so sorry!" Alleria told them both as she sobbed. "I wanted to say something, I wanted to scream for help but I couldn't! The darkness had my body and my memories and all I could do was watch."

And then Sylvanas, not knowing what else to do took her oldest sister in her arms and held her against her own shoulder as she sobbed. Within seconds she was joined in her embrace by Vereesa.

The last thing Grayson saw before he attempted to step away and afford the Windrunner family their privacy was Sylvanas turning her head to him and mouthing, "Thank you." Her own eyes and cheeks streaked with tears.

Grayson nodded respectfully, and then overcome with his own emotions moved away from them and stood apart by himself trying to work through what had just happened there that day to and through him. Somehow, the Light had used him to give Sylvanas Windrunner back her estranged sisters, and it had exposed something much, much darker at work in Azeroth; something that was desperately trying to undo what Jeshua Lightborn had done for their world.