Stirring thoughts

He feels he'll suffocate if he spends even one more minute in the Undercity.

Eireannan hurries through the narrow passages and corridors, pushing aside everything that stays in his path, dead or alive.

Thoughts roam in his head like angry buzzards.

Of course Lothemar agreed. They were rumored to be lovers before the Plague and he was her second in command. Saw her die. Risen as a banshee.

I wonder how he gets along with the situation...

Kael’thas Sunstrider had sworn allegiance to a demon. Their people, out there, did nothing but hunt illusions. The promise of magic, freely flowing again through their beings.

Weaklings.

Addicted.

The same as the Wretched.

Bending their wills to the dominion of the Burning Legion itself, in exchange for another sip of magic energy.

Disgusting.

He bursts into the inn and only seeing them he is finally able to relax, tension withdrawing from his being as from a bowstring when the arrow has finally been released.

Laandra holds Daria, who still sleeps uneasily, making some whimpering sounds at times.

They look so fragile, both of them, and only now does he understand how much he has feared that the Dark Lady will do, after all, something reckless, to force him into submission.

Because he's vulnerable through them and he knows it and she knows it as well and he's grateful that she hasn't resorted to this yet.

Fragile. He must protect them.

But then Laandra looks up at him and Eireannan suddenly remembers her own strength of mind and will, as their eyes meet and he can breathe more easily now, for he's not alone.