Sleep was fitful, plagued with nightmares. One dream, however, left an indelible mark on my conscience. One that I simply didn't want to entertain. Yet, try as I might, I couldn't erase certain images.

To take my mind off the torment, I busied myself brewing some tea and cooking up eggs and ham for everyone. The aroma stirred my sleeping cohorts, and they started to shuffle over to where I dished up breakfast. Even Aden joined us. He was limping a little to begin with but didn't appear to be in any desperate pain.

Felenn poured the cups of tea as I passed out the plates of food.

"Your elixirs and potions have done wonders," I whispered to her, nodding in Aden's direction.

She smiled almost coy. "Thank you, but I think much of his healing is his own spirit and lots of determination. Plus..." She leaned closer so he wouldn't hear, "...it wasn't too bad an injury. I think his pride was hurt more."

I fought a smile and continued with breakfast. One plate, other than mine remained. I looked up, searching around the second and third sledges, but no sign of our intrepid hunter. "Where's Araellor?" I asked.

"He's... um, close by," Garret said with a grin.

I nodded and proceeded to dish up my own eggs and ham.

"I'm here! Don't start without me." I looked up to see Araellor approaching, his demeanour light, practically jovial.

I laid my plate down ready to serve him his food, but he gestured for me to continue with mine. He crouched and plated up his breakfast then picked up a mug of tea and sat in the circle we'd formed around the small fire.

I ate in silence, occasionally glancing in his direction. I thought of what he told me the night before. Remembering that distance in his eyes; the hurt, the loss. It was another revelation about elves for me; they experience the same emotions that we humans do and feel the same pain and grief. Why wouldn't they, really?

Still, it took hearing and seeing about such matters from the source that made me see the truth. Until then, I saw them as deceitful, sinister, wicked and untrustworthy beings.

There was still an element of those old assumptions. It was hard to forget the incident on the border between Lordaeron and the elven lands. I doubted I would ever be able to erase that image from my mind. And the fear. The dread.

Yet now, as I sat between two elves - one delicate, kind and beautiful, the other strong, daring and protective - I believed I was perhaps flanked by the best of their race. In fact, I was in real danger of feeling almost comfortable in their company.

"What's it like out there?" Aden asked the hunter as he shovelled a spoonful of eggs into his mouth. His appetite certainly hadn't been injured anyway.

"Nippy," Araellor replied, winking at the two other males then grimacing. The magi laughed and nodded, obviously understanding whatever Araellor was inferring.

Felenn and I just looked at each other. Men!

"He means..." Aden began, still laughing. But Garret, interrupted, telling him we didn't need to know the details.

I then realised something else about elven males. They were sometimes as juvenile as human men. "Nice of you to spare us our blushes," I said to Garret. "However, Felenn and I will also have to brave the 'nippies' before we start out on our journey."

At that, Araellor did laugh. Out loud, almost losing his plate of ham and eggs in the process. I have to admit, the sound of his laughter was pleasant and infectious. And attractive. I inwardly blanched at such a consideration and quickly added, "I trust there is somewhere close by that is both private and safe?"

"Yes," Araellor managed between giggles. "I will stand guard of course, with my back to you, but rest assured you can answer the call of nature safely."

I nodded.

"The 'nippies'," I heard him mutter low, mirthfully. The two magi chortled. Soon we were all laughing. It felt good. Normal. And safe.

After about twenty minutes, with breakfast finished, the plates and cups cleaned and packed away and we ladies having seen to our toilet, we were all ready to start the last part of our trek.

Surprisingly, Aden felt strong enough to take charge of his sledge. Credit due to the man, for I thought Felenn, and I would have to bear the weight again.

With the same formation as previously, we left the safety of the Eastern Point and made our way to the Nexus.

Thankfully, the snow had stopped falling, and the winds were less unforgiving. Naturally, it was still cold, but our trek was made a little easier in the absence of extra wintry conditions.

Other threats, however, were as prevalent as ever. Perhaps worse, now that we could see them more clearly.

The enormous Nexus Watchers, blue dragon sentries, still patrolled overhead, accompanied by several juvenile drakes. The latter seemed uninterested in anything other than having the freedom of the skies. They were the species that Raelorasz required for his studies at the Shield. He was known to set their subjugation and retrieval as part of the training exercises, he issued newcomers to Coldarra. I was thankful it had not been on our agenda. Then again, our task was fraught with enough dangers as it was.

The Nexus loomed ahead of us. There was definitely more to it than met the eye. An imposing entity, it consisted of complex caves, portals and floating land masses.

Hovering above ground level and reaching towards the clouds, rotating ice-covered rings were stacked on a beam of arcane energy which rose from the bowels of the fortress. Their structure raw and ragged, resembled to some a set of inverted crowns connected by icy chains, while others saw more remnants of a turbulent past as if their undersides were monstrous talons or teeth.

The midsection, which was primarily a large cave carved within the rock and ice, was accessible by several fissures, all merging to the fortress's centre. Meticulous excavation opened out on three inner levels and on each level, a portal. These magical doorways would take one deeper into the guts of the fortress, and again, many floors and platforms awaited the curious adventurer. A network of underground caves and corridors filtered out in all directions, quite possibly the full length and breadth of the island. But no one knew for sure. Only scant details from those who'd survived the fortress were documented. The ones that never resurfaced were assumed dead, lost within the underground maze, unable to find an exit.

And lastly, surrounding the entire complex is a collection of floating stone platforms. Their surfaces smoothed as if planed or buffed, decorated with vast, runic symbols.

I'd studied the available information whilst still in Dalaran, hoping to be suitably prepared for what I'd (possibly) have to navigate through. Of course, until Berinand had confirmed matters, we'd both believed we'd only be studying what lay outside the fortress. And once we found out the truth, I was truly relieved I'd had the foresight to do some research. Yet now, as we traversed the vast white landscape towards our goal, I realised no amount of study could've done justice to this mega-structure, with all its magnificence, complexities and layers. And dangers. In reality, all my reading had done jack-shit for what we were about to encounter.

It became despairingly clear that our survival depended on the expertise of our two magi colleagues ... and Araellor.

The sounds alone, which echoed over the isle, caused my spine to shear in two. The cry of dragons was unlike anything I'd heard before. Guttural, forlorn, hollow. I couldn't help but wonder what horrors they'd witnessed down millennia. Or caused. And amid these alien cries, others resonated. Torn. Desolate. Could it be that of the missing magi? Were they calling out in the hope of salvation? To be reformed to their true selves? Or had my nightmares simply given license to my already overactive imagination?

A shadow fell over us. It seemed to linger as if it were deciding what or who we were. My lungs threatened to burst if I did not loosen the breath caught in my throat. I felt a hand on my shoulder. Looking askance, Araellor's chiselled features came into view.

"Breathe, Klara," he whispered. "We don't need another casualty to burden our load."

My hands curled into fists. If I wasn't so terrified of the enormous dragon above, I would've kicked Araellor in the shins. His corresponding grin did nothing to dampen my annoyance.

Felenn locked eyes with me. She looked inordinately calm as she issued me a sweet smile. A gentle reassurance, I guess. How I wished I possessed her demeanour at that moment. Garret and Aden stood stock still, their eyes bulging, furtively looking for further threats to our persons. But the shadow moved on, and I watched it slither and shift across the snow towards the Nexus.

Finally, I breathed. Huge gulps of air filled my lungs, and I expelled them as quietly as possible through pursed lips.

"Good," the hunter commended. "The watchers are not really the problem. It's the wyrmkin, mage hunters and spellweavers that pose the real threat." He gestured to the plains beyond. Between us and the Nexus.

"Not forgetting the spell-binders and the roaming Ancients," Garret added.

At that moment, all the research I'd done, the tomes and scrolls I'd poured over prior to our arrival suddenly became invalidated. As if I'd never read anything about the island at all.

"Spell-binders? Ancients?" I gasped.

The spell-binders are the ones who look the least threatening," Aden began.

"Because they're human in appearance," Araellor finished, his hands resting on his up-ended crossbow.

"Yes," the magus continued a little uncomfortably, "and the Ancients."

My perplexed expression said it all.

Aden pointed to the west, where I saw... a walking tree! Enormous, yes, yet incredibly, it managed to almost blend in with the landscape, making it appear innocuous, safe, and benign.

"Granted, they're easier to flee from, but if they do manage to catch you..."

"Splat!" Araellor clapped his hands, causing Felenn and me to jump. "Flat as a pancake or crumpled like a piece of parchment." He shrugged and rubbed his hands together. Garret and Aden just snickered.

I glared at Araellor. He seemed to find it amusing. He flashed me a smile, his tiny fangs just catching the filtered rays of the sun. "Right, then. Let's get going," he said still wearing that infuriating, smug smile.

And with that, we started moving again. Towards the fortress. Towards danger and... potential disfiguration, putting it mildly.

___________________________________________________________________________

Just as we thought Araellor and Klara might be getting along, the big oaf - oh, I mean elf - has to torment her again. Still, some may think it's a sign of affection. Unfortunately, I don't think Klara sees it that way.