BEYOND THE STARS

ABLATION

QUEST OBJECTIVE: Avoid friendly fire!

— E O N A —

— T H E   B R O K E N   S H O R E —

"If you die, you will be grounded. Understand?"

"Yes."

"And you must keep a safe, three-foot radius from your enemies at all times —"

"Can we go now?" said Eona. It took a lot of willpower to keep a groan out of her voice.

The battle was already waging around them. The sand hissed as it was kicked up by demons and plated boots. Sulfur and brimstone burned their nostrils from the fel all around them, oozing from crystals, streaking across the sky, whispered from demons' lips.

Sylvanas Windrunner shot Khadgar the finger as he continued to lay out the "rules." Eona was tempted to shoot one back, but the Archmage didn't seem to notice.

"Keep your distance from Sylvanas as well. It looks like she's giving friendly fire — Lor'themar's got an arrow in his side." Khadgar shuddered.

Sure enough, as Eona looked out upon the field of sweating, bleeding bodies, an old blood elf with an eye patch had an arrow poking out of his abdomen. He stared at the shaft with a depressed look. Halduron Nightwing stood next to him, poking the arrow with his finger so it blurred like a hummingbird's wings.

Eona agreed to that one without complaint. She tried not to tap her foot as Khadgar assessed the battle, actively prolonging her absence in it. One of the demons toppled over, collapsing to the ground with an audible crunch. Varian came into view. Dark ichor stained his face.

"Don't judge! I'm parenting!" Khadgar shouted. His fist clasped his staff tighter as steel shrieked the air.

Varian shrugged. He made his way over to them, avoiding the Azerothian bodies and nonchalantly stepping on the demon ones.

"You have more than one?" said the Alliance king when he neared. His eyes shifted to Eona. He didn't recognize her from her human form. That should've been a relief, a testament that her disguise was truly foolproof. However —

"I only have one daughter," said Khadgar.

Every ounce of blood fled Eona, leaving her cold and trembling. Leave it to Khadgar to take out the subtlety.

Varrian's eyes narrowed. The scar on his face stretched wide as his expression changed. Eona watched as he put the puzzle pieces together, glancing at Sylvanas, then at her. Realizing who was really in his son's bedroom —

"Having a redhead must be a handful," Varian said.

Eona blinked. She heard him wrong. It was only a matter of time before he pointed his bloodstained blade at her. How the disgust would curl his features, making the scar across his nose widen like the twisted Path of Glory on Hellfire Peninsula.

But it never came.

"Oh, yes. It's never dull," Khadgar ruffled Eona's hair.

Varian casually leaned against his sword as he stood with them. Eona couldn't feel any animosity from him. If anything, he seemed calm in the chaos surrounding them. His armored shoulders moved with each slow, measured breath. No wounds, no (human) blood. Varian was at home on the battlefield. Anduin always had a similar composure, but not when it came to violence.

Anduin's face haunted Eona behind her eyelids before they parted. His hollowed and glassy-eyed stare held hers as if he were determined not to let her out of his sight. Her heart poised itself to rip in two as she imagined him now. How could he survive each passing moment, while they were leagues away, risking their lives, and he was trapped in the keep, forced to do nothing but spout comforting words to others?