Back in her dorm room, Idira gazed out her window at the distant, dark smear of the Broken Shore, its ruined reaches a sullen blister against the ocean's pristine horizon. Logan was dead, she was certain of it. Long after he'd landed, hundreds of others had fallen on the ground his men had claimed, soaking the beach in their blood.
She rubbed her hands against her hips, distracted, thinking of when he said what they had experienced in Westfall had only been a taste of what awaited them on the Broken Shore. At the time she hadn't believed it could possibly be any worse, but it was; even her darkest imaginings hadn't come close to what she had witnessed that afternoon. With the battle lost, and the demons still holding the island, she realised no one would be able to return to collect his body. He would never be buried or properly mourned, instead he would lay there on that wretched beach in his rusting armour, the sun rising and falling over the skies of Azeroth, following its endless, uncaring cycle while he succumbed to the decay of his flesh and rotted alongside the thousands of others blanketing that dreadful shore, friend, ally, and foe.
A timid knock came to her door. Idira turned as Wynn pushed the door, already ajar, open. She looked in, shy.
‘Can I come in?’ she asked, diffident, glancing at Idira's eyes, furtive, then down at the empty bed.
‘Of course,’ Idira answered, grateful for the company. She sank down onto her half-made bed, waiting while Wynn settled herself onto the bare mattress opposite and smoothed down her dress.
‘It's just,’ Wynn began, her eyes sliding up the wall past Idira to roam along the cornice, tracing out its intricate design, ‘today I met one person and then they turned into another one, a really scary one, with an awful lot of power. I know you saved my life and all, and don't get me wrong, I'm really grateful but now I don't know who you really are, and I told you all that stuff about me, but I don't know anything about you except you're from Westfall. I mean, maybe you're a Kirin Tor spy, and now I'm going to be in big trouble for all the things I said.’
She inhaled as she finished, catching her breath after saying everything so fast, her words so quick at the end they blurred together. She peeked at Idira, then down at her hands, her fingers folded together, her knucklebones standing out, white.
‘I am the one you first met,’ Idira said, gentle, ‘the other part only happens when my life is in danger, otherwise my power doesn't do anything, apart from making my eyes this colour.’ Idira decided not to mention the dreams or visions, no need to complicate matters.
‘Oh?’ Wynn said, glancing at Idira, hope igniting in her eyes. ‘So like a defence mechanism?’
‘You could call it that,’ Idira said, finding a wan smile for her friend.
‘So . . . you're not a spy?’ Wynn said, scrunching up her face like a child who'd been caught with their hand in the pastry tin. She looked so ridiculous, Idira burst out laughing.
‘No. Not a spy. Not by a long shot.’
Wynn exhaled, relief spreading over her face. ‘You do have weird eyes though,’ she said, blunt. ‘Margot's going to give you a lot of hassle about them I bet.’
‘I expect it won't take much for her to persecute any of us,’ Idira scoffed, glancing back out the window, another arc of pain slicing through her as she thought of Logan laying alone and forgotten on the beach.
‘I didn't see you at dinner,’ Wynn said, looking out the window, following Idira's gaze. ‘There's been a bit of a to-do. Everyone's talking about it, did you hear?’
Idira looked back at Wynn, curious. ‘No, I haven't,’ she answered. ‘I suppose it's about what happened today?’
‘Sort of,’ Wynn shrugged. ‘The Council of Six had a big fight, the Leader, Jaina Proudmoore wanted to kick the Horde out of Dalaran because she blamed them for King Varian dying, said they abandoned the Alliance on purpose for their own ends.’
Idira raised her brow, knowing that from what she had seen, Jaina's twisted version of what happened wasn't even close to the truth. She didn't have time to say anything, though, because Wynn was on a roll.
‘Anyway,’ Wynn continued, ‘Khadgar tried to calm things down saying Azeroth needed to be united to fight against the Legion, but Jaina kept saying, no she wanted them out immediately. I don't know if you know but more than half the students and tutors here are from the Horde, orcs and everything!’ She wiggled her backside across the mattress until she could lean back against the wall, her feet waggling over the edge of the mattress. ‘Well, then Jaina got really mad because someone was disagreeing with her, apparently she really hates that, so the Council decided to call a vote. It was close but she was outvoted by one, Khadgar's vote. So guess what she did?!’ Wynn leaned forward, gleeful, her heels drumming against the mattress, impatient.
Idira shook her head, she literally had no idea.
‘Ha! I knew it!’ Wynn exulted. ‘Well, she threw a little temper tantrum and said—’ and this part Wynn recounted in an annoying, whiny falsetto ‘—'If the Horde will be a part of the Kirin Tor and Dalaran then I want nothing to do with it' and then poof, just like that, she teleported out of the Council chambers and left the Kirin Tor!’
She nodded once, meaningfully, eyeing Idira as she leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest, looking like the cat that got the cream.
‘So, that's the big to-do?’ Idira asked, perplexed, not really understanding why what the Council did had any relevance to Wynn's life, or her own for that matter.
‘Ah no!’ Wynn slapped her hand against her head. ‘I missed the best part!’ She scuttled to the edge of the bed and leaned in close, lowering her voice. ‘Because this is what really matters to us: the new Leader of the Kirin Tor is none other than, guess who? Khadgar!’