Tyrande opened her eyes, her body aching. The Light of Elune filtered through the open bedroom window, bathing the room in cool, blue light. Outside, soft voices drifted past, as The Temple of the Moon's newest apprentices hurried to their classes. Below, in the reception room, one of the serving girls swept out the braziers, singing softly to herself as she prepared the day's fires. Tyrande realised it was still early, her morning meal would not arrive for at least another hour.

Curled up beside Tyrande, Iasar still slept, purring her in sleep. Tyrande stroked the saber kitten between her ears, savouring the softness of her companion's fur. She thought of the day she had rescued Iasar from the hands of those wretched hunters of Nesingwary. They had killed Iasar's mother for her fur, and captured the tiny kitten, still in need of her mother's milk, to sell to the zoo at Darkmoon Faire, expecting a handsome price. Hunted almost to extinction for their fur, a white spotted saber kitten was a rare thing.

Tyrande had come upon the hunters poaching on the sacred grounds of the Moonwell near the Pools of Arlithrien, poking at the kitten through the bars of its cramped cage, taunting it. Her lip curled in distaste. Humans. Typical. Disrespectful, arrogant fools. How she had wanted to burn them with Moonfire, but no, unlike them, she was no murderer. Instead she rooted them, and left them trapped for half a day, while her guards removed the mother for burial and took the little shivering baby away, to be nourished by a surrogate at the stables. Tyrande had gone to visit Iasar whenever she could, their bond growing day by day. When Iasar was ready, Tyrande took her home with her, and Iasar had never left her side since.

Tyrande leaned over and pressed her lips against the kitten's head, grateful for the comfort she gave during these terrible times. Iasar chirruped in her sleep, and snuggled deeper into the blankets. Sighing, Tyrande left the bed, and went to the window. Trailing her fingertips along the wooden ledge of the window, she traced the pattern of the tree's rings, her thoughts troubled.

Bathed in the Light of Elune, she considered what she was about to do. She would have to go to her consort, Malfurion. She shook her head. He was going to be difficult. Ever since he had been captured by Xavius, and lost Cenarius to the Emerald Nightmare, Malfurion had not been the same. She scoffed. The same as when? As he was before the War of the Ancients? It was more than ten lifetimes ago when they had last basked in their love, respect and admiration for each other.

Too much had happened, too many demands outside of themselves had torn them apart. Now, they were married in name only; fighting their own battles, pursuing their own separate loyalties, seeing each so rarely she had begun to forget him. She lifted an eyebrow. Perhaps he felt the same about her. Her heart clenched, the thought wounding her. So, there was still something in her heart for him. A fragment, at least.

Yet, what she needed to ask of him today would test their relationship beyond anything which had come before. Perhaps today would be the day they would part. Once more, her heart clenched. No.

She looked up at Elune, waxing full and pure in the lavender sky, and whispered a prayer, beseeching the Moon Goddess for her aid. "Please, Great Lady, guide me. Help me make Malfurion understand."