seen from Yemen
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from China
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Russia
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Austria
seen from Australia
seen from China
A letter tucked into Roiya’s journal
A rolled up piece of parchment sealed in green and the old seal of the Suramar Guard is tucked into the journal.
Brother -
Kind of you and Shadowgrace to remember an old comrade such as I. That makes this more difficult to write. I would not take you from Shadowgrace if it were not needful. I am sorry.
Meet me in Hyjal's shadow as soon as you might.
- J
Keydyn // Awake
Song:
It was dark when the message came. He could hear the crickets singing outside the little cottage halfway between the lodge and Aerie Peak. He’d made arrangements with the Quel’dorei so they wouldn’t be disturbed, but the bird had come directly to him and it was a summons he couldn't deny no matter how much he wanted to.
He didn’t send a bird unless it was important and Keydyn was willing to bet that this one was a doozy.
Still, he couldn’t bring himself to leave in those long hours before the sun came up. Instead he sat there, staring at his sleeping wife, her face and body relaxed, looking as innocent and vulnerable as she had been more than ten thousand years ago.
He still remembered the night he’d snuck into the temple, the night of her first Trial as one of Elune’s Grace. He remembered her tears and the fear in her eyes, how much she’d needed him then.
He still hated himself for all of the years they’d spent apart. Roiya had needed him then, too, in all of those dark hours, through all of the death and the killing and the wars and he hadn’t been there.
I wasn’t there and she needed me.
The sun was coming up in the east and he could care less. Fingers calloused by years of bowstrings and arrows caught in her hair as he ran them through it, his throat tight and butterflies in his stomach.
“Never again, dalah’surfal,” he breathed as the first rays of sun hit his sleeping lady’s face. “I’ll be here this time. This time, we’ll pull through together.”
The courier-scout pressed a kiss to his sleeping wife’s temple and slipped out into the breaking dawn.
Needle in a Haystack // Saving Grace
Arms gathered her in and lifted her up. For half a heartbeat, she thought she was dreaming. Then it struck her that in order for her to be dreaming, she’d have to be sleeping and that, in turn, defeated the whole purpose of her presence in the infirmary.
Her eyes snapped open as she startled, finding abruptly that she had not been dreaming—not about being lifted from her chair by a pair of strong arms, at least.
She blinked blearily. “But I didn’t tell you it was safe to return.”
“After word of an attack here, did you think there was any possibility of my staying away?” Keydyn’s lips brushed her temple as he held her a little closer. “Nikus sent word it was safe. Aneria’s in Darnassus with Siryn and as safe as anyone could be in the whole damned world. My place is here.”
“Put me down, Keydyn.” She squirmed, twisting, trying to make sure everything in the infirmary was as it had been when she’d dozed off. Her husband held her tight, showing no sign he’d do as she’d asked.
“No.”
Roiya froze, looking up at him and blinking blearily. “What?”
“I said no. I’m not going to let you do this again, dalah’surfal. I remember this pattern all too well.”
She sighed, sagging. “Please, Keydyn. Put me down.”
“Keydyn! When did you get here?”
Roiya winced at the cheer in her niece’s voice. Aekatrine had to be at least as tired as she was—how did the girl sound so bloody cheerful?
“Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes ago,” Keydyn said, shifting his grip slightly so Roiya rested more comfortably in his arms. He shot the young druid a smile as she rose on tip-toe to kiss his cheek. “Long enough to check in with the Wildhammers and check to see if there was anything I could do.”
Roiya’s heart stutter-stepped. “Did they say yes?” she asked weakly.
“It wasn’t anything that couldn’t wait until morning,” he said, finally setting her on her feet again. “Tonight is for watching over you, dalah’surfal. I’m not going to watch you rip yourself apart inside again. I came to make sure that doesn’t happen because it doesn’t do anyone any good.”
Aekatrine cleared her throat. “Sandy asked if you’d eaten, Auntie.”
She had, but it hadn’t been much. Her appetite had been nonexistent since the attack. “If you see her before I do, tell her she’ll see me in the mess for breakfast.” Roiya’s hand found Keydyn’s, fingers interlacing and squeezing hard. She looked over her shoulder, staring at Thoran’s furry back for a long moment before looking up at her husband, at the other half of her soul. “The only time I’ve ever felt more helpless was when you lay dying in my arms.” Her free hand drifted up, fingers grazing his cheek. “I hate it.”
“I know,” Keydyn murmured, leaning down to kiss her ear, then her cheek. “But running yourself into the ground does no good. These people—your friends—they need you whole, Roiya. They don’t need the fading shadow. They need you.”
She leaned against him, tears pricking her eyes. “You’re right,” she murmured. “Goddess knows you’re right. It’s just hard. I care about them. I need them.”
“It wouldn’t be you if you didn’t,” Keydyn said, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped despite her efforts to hold them in. “Do they know that?”
“I’ve tried not to let them know that. They’re safer that way.”
“Are they?” Aekatrine arched a brow as she studied her aunt. “I know that you’ve held a lot of people at arms’ length over the years, Auntie, but maybe it’s time to finally stop. Let them in.”
Roiya sighed, weariness suddenly pressing down on her like the weight of every single one of the keep’s stones. “Maybe,” she agreed, her voice faint, barely more than a whisper.
Aekatrine’s gaze shifted to Keydyn. “Take her to bed. She needs to sleep—probably worse than Da and I.”
“She’ll get it,” Keydyn murmured, his arm sliding around his wife’s shoulders. “Keep a watch over it for her.”
“I’m still awake,” Roiya said quietly.
“But not for long,” Keydyn said with a faint smile. He gathered her up into his arms again and this time, she didn’t protest, resting her head in the crook where his neck and shoulder met. “Sleep, dalah’surfal. I’ll be with you and your swordbrethren will be safe. I promise.”
“Mm. You’d better be right.”
He laughed quietly as he carried her out. “Aye. I’d better be.”
Needle in a Haystack // Safe.
“After you leave in the morning, I don’t want you to come back here until I’ve told you it’s safe.”
Keydyn froze in mid-motion, letting his tunic slip back into place as he turned toward her, brows knitting over argent eyes. His frown deepened as he stared at her for a long moment. Roiya looked away. Her mate knew her far too well.
His fingers touched her arm, feather-light and gentle, the tips roughened by bowstrings. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t—”
“Can’t,” he echoed, cutting her off. “Why?”
“Because the more who know, the more dangerous it gets,” she said. “Because knowing would make you even more of a target than you may already be. I won’t risk you like that, Keydyn.” Roiya took his hand, squeezed it hard. “I lost you once. I wouldn’t survive losing you again.”
The fingers of his free hand brushed across her cheek, across the crisp green blade tattoo beneath her eye. “You’re stronger than that, dalah’surfal. Don’t say things like that.”
Roiya glanced away again and Keydyn sighed, wrapping his arms around her waist and drawing her close. It was chilly in the room he’d borrowed from the Wildhammers, the usual one he occupied when he came to Aerie Peak. This most recent circle had brought him here to drop off a sheaf of official Alliance communiques and a bulging packet of other correspondence. The fire he’d built just before she arrived crackled softly in the sudden silence as one lover stared at the other.
“You’re in danger,” he murmured.
“That’s hardly a new state of affairs,” she said, finally meeting his gaze with a faint, rueful smile. “I’ll be careful. I’m worried about you.”
“You’re always worried about me.” His arms tightened around her. “I’m completely capable of handling myself, Roiya. You know that.”
“I do,” she agreed. “But you and our daughter are the most important things in my world. I would see you safe, Keydyn, and right now, safe means that you stay away from here.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “After tonight.”
She smiled. “Yes. After tonight.”
“Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m not leaving ‘til morning.” He kissed her gently, though hard enough to temporarily steal her breath, reminding her that though they were apart, though they were two, they were also one. When he finally pulled back, almost as breathless as she, he asked, “Do you or any of the Servitors have mail to send?”
“I’ll check in the morning,” Roiya said, reaching for the hem of his shirt. “No more talking, now.”
“You want to feel,” he whispered, palm cupping her cheek, calloused thumb brushing across her lips.
The priestess stared at her lover as she nodded.
Words, after all, were pale, ephemeral things. Devotion—and love—were eternal.
At least for them, they had been, and always would be.
The scout smiled a crooked, tender smile back at her and led her to the bed.
