Rebellion - 1 (Patreon)

"He wouldn't want you to cry, Trix." I said softly, stroking my apprentice's golden hair as she wept into my side. "Just think of what he would say if he could see you now; the little brat would call you crybaby until you got mad enough to chase him down, making you have to trip him up with roots to stop."

Just thinking of the kids I'd cared for, I'd taught for years, and how Trix and Richard would never play off their rivalry again made me want to cry.

The funeral hit both of us hard. He was gone, gone like four others who had given their lives in the defence of the wall. Witches who proved their worth, their bravery, and two of them children. Who didn't deserve to... who should never have been in a position to die. But they did.

Now their graves would be tended to by the treants Lord Renard left behind, their amber eyes shining in the dark of the bramble thicket which covered the graveyard at the base of the wall.

"He–he's gone." Trix sobbed, clinging closer and burying her shoulder into my shirt. "I know he's gone. He's gone. But it– why does it hurt all over again?! It's my fault! My fault– if I– if Tricks–if–if–"

I held her tighter. I knew that refrain all too well, refusing to allow myself down that path. I couldn't blame myself for everything. I couldn't. "It's not. It was the demon's, they planned their attack and made sure we were unprepared for it. You came as quick as you could; I didn't keep you with me by choice."

That tiny fraction of me that did wonder what would have happened if I'd had Trix with me, had Tricks ready to call Lord Renard from the very beginning, was left dead and buried.

My apprentice would be dead. I had little reason to think she could survive that ambush with me, that she could resist the mind control, and Tricks... would he have ignored my little fox friend? No, we survived, we won. There was a price, like Richard, like Uncle Thomas, but we won.

Even if it didn't feel like it at times. Emma still wouldn't look me in the eye.

My door creaked open and I looked up to glare at the intruder; I'd done my shift at the medical tents already, I wasn't on duty until morning and– it wasn't a soldier. Frazzle stood in the doorway with a grim expression.

"Gwen, it happened." She said awkwardly, seeing Trix crying in my arms. "Archmage Arugal sent me to fetch you. Shall I...?"

Trix shook her head. "N–no. Go, it's–it's important?"

"You don't have–" I started, but she shook her head again, adamantly. "Okay. I'll be right there, Trix. Just give me a few minutes to change – unless it was immediately urgent?"

"It isn't." Frazzle replied, moving up and taking Trix's hand. "I'll stay with her; if that's okay, Trix? We can work on your enchanting if you like? A good puzzle to distract the mind, oh, I know something that'll take you all day! You'll be too tired to think once you're done with it."

"Take care, I'll be back soon as I can." I told her, setting about changing into something more appropriate than mourning garb.

Tricks slipped off the bed from beside Trix, giving her leg one last brushing with her tails before she followed at my heels. Part of me would have liked her to stay, to keep an eye on Trix for me, but considering what had come of her being absent before, her desire to stay close was understandable.

And she would undoubtedly be relevant to the matter at hand.

Though Frazzle had forgotten to explain why I was being summoned, it didn't really matter. It wasn't like it could be for anything else; to top off burying my third-ever student, today would be the day the first Gilnean worgen was turned.

Shrugging on a coat, I stepped out the door. "When will it bloody end." I muttered, looking up at the gentle snow falling down on us.

Trick's tired yip, telling me it was just snow and would be gone by tomorrow, wasn't exactly much comfort. She knew what I meant as well as I, and it wasn't like it was going to stop any time soon.

-oOoOo-

"So, ah," Private Williams winced as Archmage Arugal, Krennan Aranas, and I examined the tuft of fur growing on his arm. "I figure this be a bit more serious than I thought when I came to ask." He tried to chuckle but it quickly turned to a hiss; unable to restrain himself he started scratching at his arm, leaving red lines as his nails dug into his flesh.

"Growth of fur along the wound line, causing additional itching to induce further aggravation and increase the speed of spreading...?" Krennan murmured to himself, stepping back to take notes. "Describe the feeling, please."

"Like I got bit by a bleedin' worgen and my arm’s run through a whole field of nettles." He hissed back irritably. "Came to ask questions, not get asked them. Can you fix me or not?!"

In time I might have questions to ask him myself, but for now I was settling for watching. Or, rather, listening; there was nothing about the worgen curse to see, my 'sight' translated it all as sound.

A constant, unending, growl that merely varied in tone and pitch. One that left me feeling on edge and ready to act at a moment's notice.

"Not yet, no." Archmage Arugal said calmly. "It is hard to have a cure prepared for the first case of a new illness, however!" He tilted his head in what I'd come to learn was his equivalent of a smile. "We have begun preparations for this eventuality and have a number of tinctures for you to try – now, if you would indulge my own curiosity...?" He trailed off, leaving the option for Williams to refuse.

The private huffed, his eyes narrowed, then after a moment he settled and nodded. "Go ahead. Bloody well weren't even me fault, tosser riled the thing up and I had to be a hero an' help him." He snorted. "Right naff it is.

"Brave, perhaps foolish, but brave and commendable." Archmage Arugal complimented him. "Now, do you mind saying why you came forward? I know many in your state would rather hide their illness, out of fear of, well, medicine."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Keepers I wished he wasn't right. "Stupid bloody ingrates," I muttered. "Thank you, by the way."

No matter that I would rather this was unnecessary, that it hadn't interrupted my time with Trix, him not hiding his condition was good. So far it was still an isolated incident and the worgen hadn't turned on us – which was so much a thing to be thankful for.

Williams barked out a laugh, as in, literally barked in a manner that was deeply worrying. "Ah, well, saw how much you lot tried against the Plague thing. Figured... figured it was better not to let it get bad if it was. Figure if it got me it might get others. Thought it weren't... weren't this kind of big, though." He looked down at his arm, fear and frustration burning in his eyes – one of which seemed to waver slightly. "It just wouldn't stop itching. And now it burns and fur and– and– and–"

Krennan pulled a flask from a bag. "This, quickly please."

Within an instant the flask was snatched from his hand and downed, poured down William's throat as he clutched at it like a lifeline – and then he reached the bottom. His muscles relaxed and he started to slip to the side. "Wha– what was... that?"

"Sedative, my apologies, but you were becoming quite distressed."

"Ah." Williams blinked. "It... it doesn't burn...?" His eyes drooped and he fell into a slumber, the potion taking effect.

I turned on Krennan with a frown. "That was awful, Krennan." I snapped out at him. "Drugging him? Immediately? He was still speaking!"

"He was on the verge of a breakdown, of a violent sort if my feeling is correct." He replied with a raised brow. "Unless you believe we should be the next victims of the curse?"

"As if he has the fangs or claws for that yet! The curse is still in progress, it doesn't work that fast."

"And how can you be so–"

"I can hear the damn thing!"

Archmage Arugal raised his hands between us. "Calm, please. I agree that sedation without warning is, perhaps, an overstep. But Krennan is also correct that something needed to be done. Your findings, Gwyneth? I have my own observations but desire to hear yours first."

Crossing my arms I snapped my gaze away from Krennan and onto our patient. The wolf still growled, it didn't stop just because he was sedated. "No change due to unconsciousness, the curse is still progressing. I hear it as a wolf's growling; an angry thing fighting itself as much as its host. There's a faint echo of... shapeshifting, transformation, that I am familiar with. Unsurprising considering the origins."

"As a best guess, by the way it sounds, he will complete his transformation sometime tomorrow. I will note that, when irritated – such as when Krennan seemed dismissive to him – its progress accelerated." I nodded to Arugal. "Offering him the choice, a measure of control, settled him and the curse down. Partly."

Rocking his head back and forth Arugal hummed. "But never completely."

"No."

"Pity. Will you help us prepare the tinctures? We have several recipes for wolfsbane-moonleaf tonics, with a variety of other herbs from kingsblood to dreamfoil. I have my suspicion the dreamfoil will be most effective–"

"Briarthorn is a natural curative, dreamfoil is..." Krennan wrinkled his nose. "Unreliable. Growing it in captivity is also impossible, despite many efforts."

Because it was a flower that touched on the Dream, hence the name, and the Dream was all about the natural world. Trying to artificially grow dreamfoil was doomed to fail. "Well, I sadly suspect we'll have plenty of chances to try them all," I said wanly. "Is there a particular spell you wished for, or just general aid? I'm not an alchemist by any means..."

By the time Williams awoke, we had three tonics for him to try. They certainly had an effect... but I didn't think turning the growling of the curse into a howling fury, a frothing rage that boiled over and made him try to attack us, was the goal.

None of us were hurt, I had hardly let my guard down. But from now on, no matter how... horrid it sounded, the victims needed to be chained.

At least it wasn't infectious through saliva alone or we'd be a lot worse off. His frothing rage was rather literal.

-oOoOo-

Adept Arcman cling much too tightly to my waist, squeezing my stomach painfully as he kept telling himself not to look down. It was a frustrating distraction when we were both supposed to be on the lookout for anything which might threaten Donovan in the air.

When someone decided that Silverlaine Keep needed to be checked up on, reassured that the army was coming – As if they'd make it before the worgen turned on them – they decided to send me too.

It made some sense; a witch to resupply their food stores, perhaps grow a crop out of whatever orchards or planters might be within the keep's grounds. What didn't was that it had to be me.

That was what the orders had been, however, and I couldn't ignore them without causing issue. So here I was, squeezed between Lorna and a mage who was afraid of heights, as we flew to provide some measure of relief to distant fortification.

"I see the keep!" Lorna yelled back to us, and I peered around her shoulder – earning an unhappy whine as I dragged Arcman to the side with me. "A few minutes more, half an hour at most. Sky's still clear."

"Still clear." I agreed, the wind whistling in my ear with a fearless, if somewhat morose, tune.

No great concentrations of undead, no demons, no flying gargoyles. Almost nothing at all. There were still scattered patches of ghouls here and there, and I'd called lightning down on them as we passed more than once, but nothing like what had assaulted the wall.

Had the Scourge... given up? Were the Legion ignoring us for softer targets?

It seemed likely, they – or, rather, Archimonde – didn't care about the Eastern Kingdoms. His goal was Nordrassil, the Well of Eternity, and in that we were merely obstacles. Or perhaps fodder to feed into the meat grinder that was Ashenvale Forest; if we cost the Legion more than they gained by killing us, or made the trade less favourable than elsewhere, then they didn't have reason to attack us.

In theory. But at the same time, we'd beaten a dreadlord; we’d taken out one of their infiltrators. Beaten back an assault.

While possible, the idea that they weren't interested in revenge at all didn't sit well with me. Demons were, if nothing else, vindictive... weren't they? I... could be wrong. I didn't know enough about demons.

Just faint memories that grew ever fainter, and the politics, personalities, desires, and opinions had never been my focus.

I was drawn from my thoughts as a loud cheer erupted on the battlements of the keep. With us flying close enough to be seen properly they must have recognised Donovan and found hope in the fact we, and presumably Gilneas, still lived to fly out from.

The keep, though, was a sorry sigh up close. Perhaps not as much as the wall had been before repairs were made, but the stone was gouged and torn, chunks of masonry melted away.

Where the drawbridge had crossed the gully that separated the mighty keep from the road there was a bridge of corpses. Ranging from meagre zombies up to abominations, clogging it and leaving the stream that had formed the gully to run with rot and death.

Even in the air, the stench was horrific.

Arcman practically jumped out of the saddle, crashing onto the ground, the moment Donovan landed. He hadn't even detached himself properly and was still tangled up.

"Thank the Light we're here. Never again." He whined, pressing his face into the cold stone. "Never. Not even if an archmage asks, never flying again."

"Lady Lorna! It is good to see you and your brave mount; Gilneas still stands, I presume?" A rather haggard-looking man in full armour called, marching down one of the battlement stairways. "We saw a great number of columns headed your way. Some occasionally stopped to throw themselves at us, those were always the worst days, but they moved on. The big ones, at least."

"It was close at times, Baron Silverlaine, but the wall held." Lorna said as we dismounted. "My father's preparations were thorough enough to last the siege – and when they threw themselves at us in a great push, within and without, our trump card came through."

Lorna's hand clasped my shoulder and I couldn't help but feel a swell of pride – which faded in moments as I remembered that I'd still failed in some ways.

We won, I could be happy about that. But not proud; Genn was partly right that Gilneas suffered a greater assault because of me.

"Gwyneth Arevin, witch of the Order of Amber, My Lord." I said, offering a curtsy. "While we're present, I will..." The courtyard was hard stone, no plants in sight. "Do you... have an orchard, or garden, somewhere?"

The baron barked out a laugh. "Never had much need of one! Though... perhaps we'll change that, heard about the Harvest Miracle even up here." He scratched his chin. "Changes a siege quite a bit. Some of the townsfolk are trying to prepare fields in the hills, in case the siege doesn't stop. We know the undead aren't gone – hiding in the ruins of Pyrewood during the day, but they come out in the dark to try and find victims still. Better than an assault but still bad."

He grimaced. "Food is... enough, we've enough. But it's plain fare, and I wouldn't give us much more than the winter on meagre rations. Only reason we're good for firewood is this many people heat the halls by themselves."

It was hard to miss the gathering throng of people, peering out of corners and pressing up towards us – though never getting in the soldiers’ way. None of them looked to be in the best condition, everyone seemed tired and hungry. "I've seeds for some trees, I'll see about getting you an orchard. Then... healing for those that need it.

I might not've wanted to come, but I wasn't going to half-arse the job now that I was here.

"And you've got me too!" Arcman said, getting up after Lorna disentangled him. "Adept Arcman of the Kiri– ah, under Archmage Arugal. I'm here to set up a teleport back to the wall; messages, supplies, people, and so on."

The reaction from the crowd was instant, a great clamouring as people saw a chance at safety and comfort behind the Greymane Wall instead of being trapped in the cramped quarters of Silverlaine Keep. Questions and begging came in such great numbers nothing was coherent.

There were much, much better ways that could have been handled. Especially since I'd already heard the explanation of why it wasn't possible from Frazzle.

Baron Silverlaine raised a hand, and one of his men shot a single round into the sky. The crowd quietened swiftly after that.

"I must say, I am glad to hear that. Silvlaine will hold, much as we always have, but is not an easy thing." He looked around, his eyes lingering most on mothers and their children. "Knowing that there is an escape? It gives me hope."

My hand covered my eyes as I bowed my head. How... grand for us all.

"Um, ah..." Arcman prevaricated. "I... may have not been clear enough? It is a minor teleport framework, for single mage-to-mage transport. Not... not the great portal networks of Dalaran. Perhaps we can send one, two people per day?" He hesitated. "Or less. It was meant for supplies. Powder, if you need it. Foodstuffs and the like. Inanimates are much easier to teleport than animates, we don't have a Leyline to use here you see..."

The silence that followed his words was damning, all the clamour vanishing as the hope that had been kindled died.

"There is other news!" Lorna said quickly, trying to cut off the potential riot. "King Greymane wished to give his assurances that the army is moving, driving back the undead, and will relieve you soon."

Not taking his eyes away from Arcman, Baron SIlverlaine scoffed. "I shall believe that when I see it." His hands clenched and he whirled on the spot. "Across the Pyremarsh? In winter? To relieve me? Hah!  Even if the idea weren't insanity on its own, the king didn't care when he walled us off. I find the thought he cares now laughable. Come, Lady Crowley. I must thank you for your father seeing at least two of my children safe from this nightmare; my home is yours this day. You as well, Witch Arevin; we shall speak on how best to feed my people."

I felt a moment of concern for following him without Arcman, leaving him to the crowd, but at Lorna's prodding Donovan was already crowding him along. The gryphon would keep him safe enough for now.

There was worse than giving people false hope only to snatch it away, but those things weren't common.

-oOoOo-

As we landed back at the wall I helped our passenger, an old lady with rickety bones – that I did heal, for the moment at least – off of Donovan and down to the ground. "There you go, Gunny. Safe and sound." I said, giving the woman a tired smile.

"You're a good one, witchcraft or not." She muttered, patting the top of my head like I was a child. "Light's blessings, girl."

Brushing off the indignation I felt, I waved her off and gave the proper farewells. It had taken a little over two days to fill Silverlaine's stores completely, mostly due to my desire to give them some variety. He was now the proud owner of the largest cliffside orchard in Gilneas, with cherries, apples, pears, walnuts, and a few banana trees that weren't likely to survive long but had fruited plentifully.

Where someone had gotten a Tel'Abim banana to give me, I didn't know. It made for a nice treat, though, and I was going to add them to my collection in Darius' greenhouses. Assuming they survived the war.

"Hey, Gwen," Vivi said; her voice was thin, but still caught my attention easily.

"Vivi!" I brightened immediately, turning to embrace her – but my cheer only lasted a brief instant. Tear tracks ran down her cheeks, her eyes puffy and red, and her arms held tightly at her side. "Hey, Vivi... Ah! Lorna, can you–?"

"Take care of her!" She called back, shooting a sorrowful look of her own our way. "I'll be there soon as I can."

Taking Vivi's hand I lead her away from the fields we'd landed in; it would be better to go to Lorna's rooms if we wanted privacy, and while this was private time... Lorna was Vivi's oldest friend. She should be involved,  even if my first instinct was to keep her to myself. "C'mon, let's go cuddle. We can send Lorna for... You think Frazzle knows how to make ice cream? Snow cones with fruit syrup aren't the same but could work..."

"Don't you... aren't you meant to go work with the archmage and alchemist?" Vivi said weakly, not resisting my tugging. "I just wanted to welcome you back, but, then I... I..."

I shook my head as she tried to hold back her sobs. "You're more important right now."

If they needed me, they could send someone. And even then I would probably refuse; I wanted to take part more than they needed me to at this point. I was a glorified assistant when they were working with potions, tinctures, or anything more advanced than a basic herbal remedy. It just wasn't my speciality and it very much was Krennan's, and Archmage Arugal was at least familiar with the terminology he was using.

When it came time to start implementing Astral magic into the mix, trying to usurp the White Lady's part in the curse with the Blue Child, or some other magical cure, I would be there.

For now... there were other things I needed to be doing.

-oOoOo-

"And he  gave me my first lesson when I was a little girl, I didn't know what swords were for I just wanted to do what my brother was doing and he... and he... he'd..." Vivi's voice fell away into tears as she faltered in telling another story about her father. "He's gone."

"I know." Lorna said, opening her door and carrying in a tray of teas and more. "Huh, you're very tightly bundled there, you two." She noted with a raised brow. "Have you considered where I'm going to sleep tonight, though?"

I shrugged with one shoulder, being careful not to jostle Vivi where she leaned against me. "In the nest, same as us."

Making a bundle of blankets, pillows, cushions, and other bedding to nestle in with Vivi had been something of a spur-of-the-moment thing. It was very much a nest which made me somewhat suspicious of where the instinct came from; I didn't do this before when I was upset or trying to comfort someone.

But it felt right, and... I didn't really see a reason to find it wrong either.

"I couldn't even– even look in... his casket, it's closed." Vivi sobbed, pressing herself against me harder as Lorna found herself a spot on her other side. "Howard told me not to look. And I was too scared. I can't– I don't even know what happened to him!"

It couldn't have been pretty. "Remember him how he was, not... he was your father, a brave man. Remember him as he ought to be remembered." Seeing the dead after they died, getting a measure of closure, I could understand it.

Yet, that didn't always make it the right choice. If her brother told her not to look for herself, then I'd push that line too.

"He died bravely, fighting against a demon. He died a hero. That's what's important." Lorna said as she pressed a freshly baked biscuit into Vivi's hand. "No ice cream, I'm afraid; but Frazzle did bake these after I told her what you said."

"You heard me?"

She snorted and wrapped an arm around both of us. "I was listening because I was worried too. Did I ever tell you about the first time I stayed with Tobias, Gwen? I was only seven and..."

Before the night came to a close, the fire in the hearth flickering out, Lorna was crying as well. Tobias had been like an uncle to her. She and Vivi found a lot of comfort in telling stories to one another, and, though I was close to both of them, I almost felt like an outsider.

I let them have their time to mourn, turning into a fox and letting myself be squeezed, stroked, and cuddled by Vivi. The snot and tears would come out in the morning.

-oOoOo-

Unlike so many others who would be buried far from home at the wall, Northglade was close enough to the gate that a single long, sombre procession had been assembled to carry the noble lord home. Mistmantle colours and banners hung over us all, making clear who it was for if any had not heard the news.

There had been a number of farmsteads and villages along the roads; despite the weather, as we drew closer, more and more people came out to bow their heads and pay their respects.

Tobias had been a well-liked lord by his people. For good reason, I knew, remembering my first meeting with the man.

Until we arrived I stayed as close to Vivi as I could; though she had tried to remain stoic, present a stiff upper lip and noble bearing, it hadn't lasted beyond the first glimpse of Northglade on the horizon. Her tears flowed, though the drizzling rain hid them well.

As we readied ourselves for the ceremony, which itself would be a fairly swift burial – so many men and women, lords and ladies, heroes who had fallen and needed to be tended to – I couldn't help but think of Mama.

Though it hadn't been so long, mere months, it felt far longer. I needed to see her again, to speak with her, to remind myself I still had her. Our connection was rebuilding, we were becoming family again, and... and losing her would hurt in ways I didn't want to imagine.

"And so we gather here to lay to rest a hero of Gilneas, a brave soul who stood against the most dread of foes and did not falter." Intoned Priest Landen, a member of the Church of Dawn charged to see this done right. "One amongst many but let that not diminish the worth of his sacrifice, the honour he brought his house by his deeds, the defiance he showed against unimaginable terror."

He clasped his hands and bowed his head over the coffin as it was laid on the ground. No grave had been dug, no place to put the coffin prepared, but that was where my part came into play.

At the opposite end of the coffin, I planted the seed of a misting willow that Howard had given me. It dug greedily into the sodden ground, reaching deep and far to tap the waters of the hill and the spring within.

"Light, we ask that you bring him into your embrace, grant him peaceful rest, and offer eternal sanctuary from the clawing hands of Undeath." The priest continued. "Bless the Life that blooms this day such that it guards him until the very end."

The willow reached over my head, its winding and wispy branches clinging to the stonework of the castle for stability as roots reached up and the ground below subsided.

Tobias, and his coffin, sunk into the ground.

"May thy soul be clad in white, in the kingdom of the Light." I sang softly, my eyes closing fully as tears filled them. "Rest well, Tobias. And... thank you."

For thinking well of a witch, for welcoming me into your home, for giving me the chance to make a difference. For being a good man.

I blinked the tears away as I stood, making way for the sorrowful and yet still angry Isobel, who began her speech on her husband's virtues. Her, Howard, and lastly Lorna. It wasn't right, Vivi should have been granted a chance to speak too, and I would've had my own words to offer.

But those here were due elsewhere, Priest Landen due ten miles east to see to another funeral for a Wall Lord – or rather his cannoneer wife.

Better than a mass grave but even then not the full accolades he deserved.

Howard took over from Isobel, who had spoken on the dutiful nature of her husband and his strong hand raising their children, and began to talk of his certain when it came to their place defending the wall. As they had in defending Northglade, and the Northgate Woods, since they were granted these lands centuries ago.

And at last, came–

"Make way! Make way!"

Everyone turned as a horse, which must have climbed the narrow stairs cut into the back of the bluff, thundered into the courtyard. Prince Liam on its back and breathing hard. "My sincerest apologies, but this matter cannot wait." He declared as he rode through the crowd towards Lorna.

The muttering, the shock over the impropriety, and the curiosity over what could have driven him to do this rang loudly through the crowd.

"Quiet! Quiet," Priest Landen called, raising his hands. "This is a solemn affair, Your Highness. You shall pay your respects before you depart."

Prince Liam nodded to the priest, though his head didn't divert from Lorna for a moment. "Of course, honoured brother. Lord Tobias died bravely and deserves his time of peace." He held a hand to his heart as he dismounted. "But he would wish for this also, as it concerns those who he holds dear. Lorna, allow me to speak with you please?"

"If this is a proposal..." Isobel hissed angrily, her hands clenched in her mourning robes.

For perhaps the first time, I agreed with the woman.

"Bad enough we allowed heresy to take part, we are interrupted because of her." She spat. "Never should have welcomed her as a child, nothing but trouble. Oh, Tobi... you would still be with me..."

Or... maybe not fully.

Close as I was, and with my senses already straining to hear Prince Liam, I was likely the only one to hear her. But what Prince Liam said did shake me further.

He leaned into Lorna's ear, his voice low and hushed, and scarcely audible at all. But I did hear Calia's name.

Calia. He knew about Calia, the princess, the one we had brought home. She was supposed to be in Crowford, waiting in the manor, and with the wall finally stable we could think of how to handle the situation, have her appear before the king in a way that isn't suspicious...

But Prince Liam knew.

How?

"We did not." Lorna answered firmly. "It was never his intent; Father did not even know, Liam. Gwen informed us idly, and, pressuring her, we acted. She was meant to go with the dwarf, Thane Kindfeather, but she refused. To meet your father."

"And now she will." Liam said with grim finality. Slowly, he turned to meet my eyes, frustration and accusation mixing there for a moment, though I felt it was not wholly aimed at me. Then a world-weary resignation, one unsuited to his years, took over. "It should not have come to this. It should never have come to this." Standing tall, he projected his voice clearly. "Brave defenders of Gilneas, sons and daughters of our kingdom, I bring grave news. My father, King Genn Greymane, has ordered the arrest of Lady Lorna Crowley and Witch Gwyneth Arevin, on the crime of colluding with foreign powers and acting as collaborators to a plot of treason."

My breath hitched as the worst possibility, Darius' words of reprisal becoming near prophetic, was made plain and true. The sharp gasps of breath that rang out all around us made clear others were near as shocked as me.

"I ask not that you fight for them, merely that you hide my part in allowing them to flee." He rested his hand upon the misting willow that stood as Tobias' tombstone. "For the man who was Lady Lorna's uncle in all but blood, give them a chance to prove themselves innocent."

Lorna snatched my arm as she let out a sharp whistle. "We have to go." She said quickly. "Now. They can't be that far behind him."

"We'll keep your secret, Your Highness." Priest Landen said with a bowed head. "What is spoken of at the internment of the dead is not meant for the ears of the living. In his honour you spoke, in his honour we shall keep your words."

"Aye aye!" Loyal Mistmantle soldiers raised their arms in agreement.

But all it would take was one. And I could see the scowl on her face, a rictus of anger and disgust, from here.

Vivi snatched up her skirts, following after us as Lorna brought us to the battlements overlooking the new town where Donovan now hovered. "You're not leaving me!" She cried. "I'm– they'll go after me too."

Not stopping to argue, Lorna pulled her onto Donovan after me. And we were away.

The cold and wet wind did little to ease the numbness I felt all the way down to my bones. The war against the Scourge was hardly over, the worgen still lingered, and the rebellion was about to begin. And it was our fault.