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In the City of Lordaeron...

The sun had crested over the eastern mountains, and the sky was aflame with red, orange, and gold when the riding bat had made its final approach alone into the newly repaired walls of the ancient city. Its rider could not fail to notice the changed flags and sigils, or their similarity to those of the Argent Crusade but with a decidedly "Jeshua Follower" twist. He had seen the city before the Scourge in all of its glory as the first home and capital of the Alliance of Lordaeron, and like with many others had deeply mourned its loss to the undead and to the Horde. For decades he had considered it almost a personal insult that the Forsaken should fly their flags from its battlements.

Looking upon it now in the light of the rising sun, he felt it never looked more beautiful than it did with its new standards.

On his person, Grayson Shadowbreaker carried letters of introduction written and signed in an unpracticed but legible hand by the emissary who had come to restore his sight to him. Andrew Haleis had kindly provided them for him to meet with the other leaders of Jeshua's movement, and more importantly, for him to enter Lordaeron without imprisonment by its queen should she learn of his presence there. The emissary had not minced words on Sylvanas' opinion of the man.

Andrew had kindly provided him with those documents and so much more. After restoring the man's sight, the emissary had spent the last week in Tarren Mill teaching him everything Jeshua had taught he and his comrades, and sharing with him all of his experiences. There had been no lie, no deception in the man's voice. Truth was, after coming to know the simple, plain spoken man, Grayson didn't believe the man knew how to lie and was certainly unable to come up with any story so fanciful as the truth he laid bare for the two knights that had come to be his students where the message of Jeshua was concerned.

The morning after he restored Grayson's sight, Andrew had taken them both to the exact spot in Tarren Mill where Jeshua had called upon the Holy Light to transform the entire town and a squad of Demon Hunters all at once. The words which he remembered Jeshua crying out to the people still rang in Grayson's ears and had tunneled their way into his heart where he held them fast.

The Light has sent you a message! Jeshua had pronounced to the people there.

And what is that message, vagabond? Had been the mocking response.

Me. Jeshua had responded.

And then Tarren Mill's whole world had changed in an instant as Jeshua delivered the message the Primal Force he called his "sire" had sent them. Andrew's story kept being reinforced the day he told it by random townspeople, and even the Orc soldiers who had been stationed there. They had all seen it, and each had been transformed by Jeshua's message in some way to where even the man who had mocked him now numbered among his emissaries.

What is the Light's message to Azeroth? To the Horde? To the Alliance? To Lordaeron? To Stormwind? The question wouldn't leave Grayson alone as the answer kept repeating itself. Jeshua. Jeshua is the Message and the Messenger.

The day after, Katharine had to report back to the others to assure them they weren't dead, but Grayson had stayed behind. Before she left on a bat to carry her as far as the Horde research outpost in the Hinterlands, he gave her a message to give to his brother in arms, Durothian Rall, "I was blind, but now I can see. I won't be blinded to the Light again, not by anyone." Katharine could fill them in on the rest of what Andrew told them, and let them make their own choices.

His whole world had twisted inside out, but he felt that more than anything he had to stay and learn more, and as he did he felt his old life slipping away little by little as Andrew spoke to him of the simple, homeless teacher who had done nothing but teach compassion, heal, and give people back their lives. His title, his lands, his position as a teacher and trainer of future Paladins all seemed so small and worthless in comparison to the quiet, warm, gentle power which radiated through the humble fisherman. Power which Grayson knew belonged to Jeshua.

At first a small part of him had wanted to say, "Yeah, but..." when Andrew would speak about loving one's enemies, and forgiving them. He had spent the better part of his life bringing his enemies to justice and fighting against them, especially the Horde. But then he felt the Light itself rising within him, countering his arguments as if to say, No, you need to understand this! Pay attention, Grayson!

And he did.

After feeling the Light so distant from him for so long, it had been like the return of a familiar friend, a drink of cool refreshing water to a parched man, and a feast to a man dying of starvation. He refused to do anything which would place a barrier between himself and the Holy Light again. He knew he couldn't go through that again. If Jeshua truly was the Holy Light somehow incarnate as a human, then so be it. He would follow where Jeshua led him, and everything else be damned. His first love and commitment had been and would continue to be the Holy Light.

And Jeshua was the Holy Light made manifest for all of Azeroth to see.

The riding bat landed on the outer ring of the city, and Grayson Shadowbreaker put his bare feet on the newly paved cobblestones of the bat handler's alcove. Before leaving Tarren Mill, he had made the choice to leave his armor clothes behind, and now wore only the sweat stained trousers, belt, and shirt which had been underneath them. Seeing Andrew's habit, and hearing of Jeshua's, he also left his leather underboots behind as well. If he was to follow Jeshua, then he was determined to follow Jeshua in every way. Bringing his hand up to his chin and cheeks, a week's worth of beard growth had overtaken his normally carefully cut goatee.

Rather than handing the reins of the animal over to the bat handler, a muscular man wearing purple lensed flight goggles Andrew had called "Michael Garrett", as he might have with a gryphon in Stormwind's aerie, after having slid off the animal with a serviceable canvas backpack, the bat immediately flew to a metal ring hanging from a pole nearby and hooked its feet around it.

Andrew had not come with him. "I don't think I'm supposed to go back with you, Grayson." The fisherman had told the Paladin as they parted ways in Tarren Mill. "Jeshua told us we were to take his message to the ends of Azeroth, and I for one have stayed put in Lordaeron long enough."

"What about your things in Lordaeron?" Grayson had asked him, confused about the man's personal effects. Wouldn't he want to return to retrieve them?

"Don't have anything else." Aqndrew had replied. "What you see is all I own in the world, my friend. If it was good enough for the teacher, than it is good enough for me."

Grayson slung the pack over his shoulder and looked over his surroundings. It had been over thirty years since he had seen the inside of the walls of this city, and though he had been born and raised in Elwynn Forest, he felt a kind of homecoming as he surveyed it.

The paving underneath his feet was fresh, and as he looked out he could see and smell the signs of new renovations all over the city still ongoing. At one time, Lordaeron had been a queen among the cities of the Eastern Kingdoms, and it appeared that its residents were intent on restoring it to its former glory. He stepped out of the alcove, pack slung over his shoulder and started for the center of the city, where he remembered the Cathedral had been built, adjacent to Lordaeron's own Keep. Andrew had told him, the other emissaries resided in the Cathedral's old cloister apartments for the moment, and he had been directed to find them and explain to them what had occurred.

According to the fisherman, those instructions had come from Jeshua himself.

Grayson set off through the streets observing the new construction alongside the parts of the city which had yet to be renovated. Everyone seemed busy and on their way to somewhere. There was a good, positive energy that felt infectious as he passed people by; humans, Orcs, Sindorei elves, and the occasional Goblin tinkering with some kind of machine or other. All of these people had been his enemies once upon a time because they had been enemies of Stormwind and the Alliance, even the humans who had not long ago been undead.

He stopped and caught himself staring at a Goblin in a purple silk business suit near another market alcove working on a metal and wood boxlike machine for some human tradesmen. The Goblin used his tools turning, pushing, and pulling on parts of the machine that Grayson wouldn't have been able to identify for the life of him. The device whirled to life doing... something as cogs and gears began to spin and lights began to flash on it. And then white smoke began to stream from the side of it and it caught fire. The human tradesmen, arms crossed over their chests, looked entirely unimpressed as the diminutive green creature fought furiously to shut it down. Then, seeing Grayson's attention, the Goblin flashed a yellow toothy smile and gave him a thumbs up sign shouting, "Food Processor! Works like a charm, and only nineteen-ninety-five!"

Giving an awkward forced smile back, Grayson moved on quickly.

He wound his way through Lordaeron's ongoing construction into its central heart and by the time the sun had risen clearly into the sky, and the golden colors of dawn had faded he found himself staring up a set of stone steps at the wide open doors of the city's domed Cathedral. Even in the morning daylight, he could tell there was a radiant light emanating welcomingly from inside the structure.

Pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts, he then started up the steps and crossed the threshold into the Cathedral.

Inside, past the foyer, the sanctuary itself was filled with people as an older, simply dressed man in a brown linen robe led a service in devotion to the Holy Light. Every seat in every pew was taken, and there were other people lining the walls. Almost everyone in the Cathedral was human, but here and there, Grayson noted the long tapered peach colored ears and more refined features which marked the elven races, and thought he spied some azure and lavender colored ones as well towards the altar. In seeing the elves present there the memory forced its way into his mind of the red headed Blood Knight Matriarch, Lady Liadrin, and the look of contempt and disgust she had given him not so long ago at his request to the Order of the Silver Hand.

He physically shuddered at what became a painful and awkward memory. She had every right to hold him in contempt for what he had tried to do. He had done it in ignorance, but that made no difference.

I should have known better. He told himself. They were right, and I would have had them slaughter innocent men, women,... and children.

A tear formed in his eye at this last thought.

The regular liturgy to the Holy Light was said, and Grayson joined in the familiar communal worship with the others as he stood in the back giving thanks and praise to the Primal Force of all creation, making note where the liturgy had been only slightly changed to include Jeshua's name in certain places. The sanctuary pulsed with the Holy Light, and he thought his eyes must have been playing tricks on him as he could not make out any discernible shadows anywhere. The Light was palpable and almost tangible around him as the people continued their devotions.

And I believed these people to be unholy monsters. The sense of shame which began with the memory of Liadrin built within him as the service progressed. And then he asked himself silently, How could Bishop Marcus have not sensed the Light's presence with Jeshua when it is so obvious with those who follow him?

And then the liturgy died down, and the man in plain linen robes began to speak of Jeshua, and his time with him. It was only then that Grayson realized that the man who was leading the service was another one of Jeshua's emissaries who kept calling himself "old Jim". He kept referring to Jeshua as "the Captain" as he spoke reverently and affectionately of him. The Paladin listened intently, recognizing some things from what Andrew had taught him, and hearing new, almost unbelievable ones as well.

And then the man began to speak of Darrowshire, and the little girl Pamela he had met there who had been dead for thirty years. He spoke of how the little girl's story had broken his heart, and how he had gone to Jeshua to see if there was really anything he could do for her and for her town.

Grayson listened even more intently. He had heard Marcus tell the story too, but upon listening to Jim relating what had happened, he wondered if Marcus had really even been there at all, or had only seen what he wanted to see.

"'...these people have been dead and scattered all over the ground for decades.' I told the Captain." Jim told those listening. "'Maybe if you had gotten to them thirty years ago after it happened...' And do you know what his response to me was? He said, 'I am resurrection, Jim, and I am life itself. The one who allows me to shine within him is alive even if his body dies. And death has no power over the living man in whom I shine.' And then he asked me, 'Do you trust me in this?' Now, I had seen the Captain do some pretty amazing things, but the kind o'..." He paused for a minute, emotion plainly on his face. "The kind o' healing we was talkin' about went beyond anything I had ever heard of or seen. But when I looked at the Captain's face, I saw it. For the first time, I saw who and what Jeshua really was and what he wanted to do, and I told him, 'Yeah, Captain, I do.' Because it was then I knew that he was much more than just a man who could use the Holy Light like any Priest or Paladin worth their salt. I knew that Jeshua somehow was and is the Holy Light wearing the same skin you 'n I do. He was the message the Light sent to us to tell us what it's really like and what it really wants from us. I went with the Captain back to Darrowshire, and I'm glad I did because I saw the Light show us all what it wanted to do for all of us. I got to see that little girl hug her daddy with living arms for the first time in thirty years all because of Jeshua."

The tears that had formed in Grayson's eyes continued to flow as old Jim talked about his teacher honestly and with heartfelt emotion. Had it been up to the Paladin not long ago, that little girl who had been given back her life would have been dead on the ground once more next to her father, murdered in the Light's name.

What kind of a monster would I have become if Jeshua hadn't knocked me off of my Gryphon? Grayson asked himself. He didn't like the answer, especially because he knew he would have been capable of it, misguided though he might have been. He had killed in the Light's name many, many times wielding the sacred to devastating effect. The very existence of the undead had been an affront to the Light, regardless of who it was.

And then Jim moved to reveal a silver chalice which had been placed on the altar. He picked it up reverently with both hands and showed it to those present saying, "Jeshua said this was his blood of the new pact he was making with all of us."

The cup. Andrew had told him about it and the evening meal before Jeshua had been murdered. He told him how Jeshua had likened it to the dark pact made by the Gilneans and refugees from Hillsbrad as they drank the Worgen's blood to protect themselves from becoming undead.

Jim prayed over it, a brief flash of golden light passing between the older man's hand and the cup, and then sipped from it. From there, others up towards the altar also sipped from it, and then those from the congregation all stood up and queued to take.

I will follow you, Jeshua. I will make that pact with you too. Grayson prayed silently and then joined the line of those waiting to receive it. In some ways, it startled him how he did it with so little hesitation. But he knew the Light's presence, and he could feel it all around him, and he knew that this was the will of the Holy Light for himself.

The line moved quickly and orderly and Grayson came to stand in front of old Jim. The man's weathered, wrinkling features which spoke of a hard life spent out in the elements smiled at him with his whole body and face as he offered him the cup saying, "This is Jeshua's pact." It wasn't one of those fake smiles he had seen on the faces of the nobility and not a few of the clergy that he had known. It was as genuine as the tracks left by tears the Paladin saw when he stood face to face with him that he couldn't see from the back of the sanctuary.

The Paladin took the chalice in his own hands, the seriousness of what he was doing coming fully to his mind. In a flash his whole life rushed before his mind, everything he had done before this moment. He thought of the noble family name he had left behind to embrace his calling as a Paladin, he thought of the wars he had fought in, the enemies he had fought against, the people he healed as well as those he had destroyed in the Light's name. He thought of the barrier which had arisen between himself and the Light at Light's Hope chapel, and the many ways the Light had tried to get his attention. And Bishop Marcus's face rose in his mind's eye as well, questioning his loyalties and decisions. The word traitor was tossed at him by that mental image.

You throw your lot in with monsters and the Alliance's enemies. You aren't worthy of being a Paladin of Stormwind. The cleric's voice rang accusingly within Grayson's mind.

And he was once more reminded of the possible costs to himself, his position, his title, his lands, all of it if he in all sincerity accepted this cup and drank from it. Everything he had worked for and been could be gone. It had been a choice he had been prepared to make and thought he had before he ever walked into the church, but there was a voice within him that insisted he face it.

Is it worth it? The voice within him asked. Do I risk losing everything to follow where Jeshua leads? Do I treat everything else as trash in order to obtain the Holy Light?

"So be it. I will follow where the Light leads me. I will follow Jeshua." Grayson responded quietly, a sober expression on his face, and he sipped from the chalice, handing it back to a nodding emissary before moving on allowing the next person behind him to partake.

Moving to the side, and out of the way of the others, he then faced the altar and stood looking at it for some time. Those other people around him appeared to melt away as he became transfixed by what he saw.

On the marble and stone surface danced a golden and silver series of radiant lights which grew and coalesced into the solid, humanoid form of a man with a beard, shining brighter than Azeroth's sun. The man radiated power and authority like nothing Grayson had ever felt before, and a warmth and joy that filled his heart to bursting.

"Kneel before me, Grayson Shadowbreaker." The man instructed. "For I am the Holy Light."

With fear and awe, Grayson obeyed, dropping to one knee, placing his hands on the other, and bowing his head in submission as though to his sovereign king, "Yes, my lord."

The Paladin felt a hand placed gently on his head, followed by the weight of a second hand on top of it.

"Do you so swear to do righteousness at all times, defend the innocent, bring justice, heal the sick, and bring my Light into the darkness?" The Holy Light questioned him.

My vows! Grayson recognized the words from his first consecration as a Paladin.

"I so swear, my lord." He responded.

"Do you so swear to show compassion and mercy, to walk humbly within me, and forsake all others in devotion to me?" He was asked.

"I so swear, my lord." He responded once more.

"Do you so swear to obey my will in all things, even if it should mean your own death?" The Light continued.

"I so swear, my lord." Grayson told him, his voice cracking with emotion.

"Do you swear to bring my message to this world, no matter where I might send you?" He was asked.

This question had not been one of his original vows when he had been consecrated in Stormwind's Cathedral decades before. At first confused, Grayson didn't know how to respond, until he realized who it was who was asking him.

"I so swear, my lord." He finally answered, wondering what it meant as he did.

"Then be filled with my Light, and serve me as I choose." The sacred presence responded.

And then it felt as though the man stepped into Grayson, uniting himself with Grayson's own soul and spirit and Grayson's mind and heart exploded with rapture as the Light seized him and enlivened him in a way that he had never felt before. A righteous, holy power flowed through him that was both familiar and comforting, and more powerful than he had ever known. It overwhelmed him like a blazing, unstoppable wave of life, joy, and compassion without equal.

Now we are one, my champion. He heard the Light speak within himself. Rise, Paladin of the Holy Light.

In Lordaeron's Cathedral...

Sylvanas' attention had been drawn as the strange poor looking human stranger knelt in front of the altar for some time, mumbling something to someone that only he apparently could see. She did not recognize him, but her own experience and hunter's eye told her that the man's powerful, muscular build and scars could only belong to one acquainted with war and not some mere farm laborer.

She had come home after spending the last week in Orgrimmar attending to her responsibility as Warchief of the entire Horde, and not just queen of a nation going through the throes and pains of its own rebirth. There was much on her mind, and after much careful calculation on her part, she had come to the morning service in the Cathedral, herself looking for guidance from the power that had delivered them all.

She couldn't explain the urge to do so herself. But ever since Jeshua's resurrection, and later accepting the cup of his pact, she felt a connection to him and to the Light stronger than she had ever felt anything. She felt the desire to do the right thing, not only for herself and for her people, but for everyone, but she didn't always know what that right thing was. She only knew that she had hundreds of thousands of people across the Horde territories, and now also possibly the Quel'dorei looking to her to lead them and reassure them that their lives would be better and have meaning. That their sacrifices would not have been given in vain. That there was in fact light at the end of the dark tunnel they had all come through.

She felt all eyes now on her as she weighed what decisions to make.

Lor'themar had accepted her word that once she had finished with the Horde's business in Orgrimmar, she would come to Silvermoon and speak with the Quel'dorei. That business had, mercifully, given her time to consider and calculate how she would speak with them, and what she would say.

She had promised the regent lord of Silvermoon that she would come to that ancient home of hers to try and speak with the newly resurrected High Elves as both one of the "heroes" they remembered, and also as Warchief of the Horde. In so doing, she would have sit across the table, both literally and metaphorically, from her sisters, Vereesa and Alleria, both militant supporters of the Alliance. She would have to convince those at the table that Quel'Thalas's best interests and future lay in the hands of the alliance they only knew as monsters that tried to destroy both human and elven kingdoms, while at the same time affirming her commitment to the peace with the Alliance that she had agreed upon with Anduin and begun to implement among her own forces.

In other words, she would have to be walking a kind of diplomatic tightrope, and she was, admittedly, never much of a diplomat to begin with. She had, for most of her life and previous undeath, felt most at home with her bow in her hand, an arrow nocked and ready waiting for the time to strike. She had been the Ranger-General of Silvermoon, a soldier and a tactician, and she had been the Forsaken's warrior queen and savior from the Scourge leading her troops from the front into combat, but she was never a diplomat, nor had she ever wanted to be. She knew had to use and apply force to accomplish her goals, but the use of silver tongued words was not her strength.

She had been forced to be strong for decades. She had been forced, she felt, to trust only herself and Nathanos to accomplish what needed to be done, always aware of the possibility of betrayal by even her professed allies and subordinates. The incident at the Wrathgate in Northrend had only reinforced that for her. It had not been her idea to turn the plague canisters on their own living Horde forces as well as the Lich King's, though at the time she could have cared less about the Alliance troops. But that suspicion had hung over her head and she could do nothing about it. No one would truly believe her after it, and to be fair, she wouldn't have either.

And then she met Jeshua who wanted nothing more from her than to right the wrongs which had been forced on her. How many times had she nearly ended his life herself because she didn't trust him or his motives? How many times had she wanted to? He had to have known, but instead of protecting himself or using his immense power to end her as another might have done, he kept reaching out his hand to her offering her what she had truly wanted for years and more if only she would trust him enough to accept it.

He even had his own claim to the throne of Lordaeron, and could have taken it from her easily. Instead, he gave it back to her, and in that moment of clarity she realized there was one other person that she could trust with herself beyond just herself and Nathanos.

This was the reason why she kept coming back to the Cathedral and to Jeshua's emissaries. Jeshua was the only one she felt she could truly look to beyond herself for guidance, and he was somehow present in this place and in those who followed him.

"If you're listening, Jeshua, I don't ask for this often, but I'm no diplomat. I will need help to talk to my own people, to talk to my sisters, and get them to listen. I don't know what to say to any of them which would result in the peace I know you would want from this. I know how to fight a war. I know little of fighting a peace." She had prayed, mouthing the words without sound after being one of the first to receive the cup once more.

She had thought first of bringing Nathanos with her, the only human ever to ascend to the rank of Ranger-Lord of Quel-Thalas. He was certainly a hero of her people, regardless of his race, but then she remembered how her people had viewed not only him, but any hint of the relationship which she had with him. It had been Nathanos himself who had discouraged the idea. He felt his presence might distract from what she hoped to accomplish, and she knew he was right.

She had closed her eyes to pray after moving to sit down again in the wooden, upholstered pew, and when she had opened them her attention was caught by the strange man who knelt with his back to her. She was certain that he had not been there before, and she did not recognize him as one of the people she might have seen elsewhere in the city.

He knelt, mumbling something she couldn't hear for some time, even after the service had ended and the sanctuary emptied. Jim, his fellow emissaries, and Bishop Faol who had come to join them regularly and had taken up residence in the Cathedral once more did not disturb the man, but moved around him respecting the stranger's obviously deep and heartfelt moment before the altar of the Light.

Not far from her, the Blood Knight Matriarch, Lady Liadrin stood at a respectful distance from her Warchief, also watching the man, a hint of confused recognition in her eyes. She had arrived by way of the translocation device much earlier in the morning, and had chosen to join the queen in the Cathedral's service to the Light. She had heard much about the preacher Jeshua and his amazing power with the Light, and in the end had ended by drinking from the cup herself.

The fire haired elven Paladin had been sent by Lor'themar Theron in Silvermoon City to inform her of the final preparations for the meeting with the Quel'dorei which was to take place. In the past week, the situation had deteriorated further but the High Elves acknowledged leadership had agreed to wait until she came to address them. But she could afford no more time to prepare than what she had been given, regardless of Lordaeron's ongoing need of her during the reconstruction. If she delayed any further, the risk of Lor'themar losing all control of Quel'Thalas was imminent and she knew he would be forced to respond with bloodshed, elf against elf, no matter how much he abhorred the idea. And then her own human troops would be called in as the nearest Horde aligned forces, and many of them, human and elf, would likely lose the lives that had just been returned to them.

It was something none of them wanted.

The man then stood up, a kind of energy and nobility in his movements even as they spoke of grave responsibility. He turned around, his open eyes briefly filled with golden light before it faded to reveal very human, and very surprised orbs as they looked upon her seated form.

"Warchief, this is Lord Grayson Shadowbreaker, the man who encouraged us to slay the newly risen." Liadrin announced accusingly as she saw the man's full face. Liadrin's own sword came out of its scabbard as she assumed a relaxed but ready stance against the unarmed man. Righteous anger flashed across her face as she said his name, remembering what he had come to ask them all to do.

The man's head turned quickly between Sylvanas and Liadrin as recognition dawned across his own features as well.

Upon hearing his name, anger flashed across Sylvanas' expression as well and she instinctively reached for the bow she carried with her as a part of her own body, her other hand reaching for an arrow.

"No, wait!" The man called out, then pulled around a canvas pack he had been carrying, and pulled out a folded piece of parchment from it, meaning to hand it to Sylvanas herself.

By that time, Sylvanas' bow was in her hand, and an arrow was drawn and aimed at the center of the muscular human's chest. "What is this?!" Sylvanas demanded even she she was a fraction of a second from letting her arrow fly.

Wait. Hear him out. Jeshua's quiet, determined voice ran through her mind.

"It is a letter from Jeshua's emissary, Andrew Haleis. I was sent here by him... and by Jeshua himself." The man responded, still holding the letter out towards her, a strange look of resignation on his face. He then said, "I am unarmed, and bear no ill will."

"Emissary," Sylvanas directed her voice to Jim who had been standing nearby watching the events unfold with a serious, concerned expression, "take the letter and read it."

But Jim responded honestly, "I never had a lot of schooling. My reading ain't so good, your majesty."

"I can, by your leave." Bishop Faol, who had also been standing next to Jim, then spoke up.

Sylvanas nodded without taking her eyes off of the offending man.

The cleric slowly and deliberately walked up to the man and took the paper from his hand, opening it and scanning down the single page. After a minute or so, he said, "It is from Andrew, your majesty. He speaks of Jeshua instructing him to go to Tarren Mill to find this man, and then of teaching him of Jeshua for the past week. Andrew says that Jeshua himself has chosen this man to be the 'instrument of his will.'"

"Is this true?" Sylvanas demanded from the man uncertainly.

The man looked her in the eyes even as her arrow never left its mark and told her, "I was on a mission to destroy the people of Tarren Mill when Jeshua knocked me off of my Gryphon fifty feet to the ground and took my sight from me. He sent me to find Andrew in the very town I meant to raze to the ground so that he could restore my sight. I will not lie to you. Lady Liadrin is right. It was in ignorance to the truth, but I meant to be a murderer. If you choose to fire that arrow, I won't try and stop you."

Forgive, Sylvanas. It's hard I know. Jeshua's voice came to her again.

There were several more tense seconds before the queen lowered the arrow, and relaxed her bowstring.

"Stand down, Liadrin." She then gave the Paladin instruction. "I will hear him out."

"I lost my connection to the Light. I didn't know why at the time." Grayson told them all, looking from person to person. "I had thought that by destroying those I thought to be unholy and evil, I could regain it by proving my faith. But Jeshua himself came to me in a vision, in several visions. The Holy Light reached out to me to stop me and bring me to my senses, and here in this place I too accepted Jeshua's pact and in return he bade me kneel and renew my vows to the Holy Light as his Paladin and in his service with the Light as my armor and his message as my hammer. I am wholly his to do with as he sees fit."

As he spoke, an aura of light gently enveloped him as if to reinforce its return to him. At the sight, even Liadrin lowered her sword in awe at what had transpired.

You asked for help. Jeshua's voice spoke within her mind. I give you my champion.