The grandeur of the banquet faded behind them like a dream dissolving at dawn.
Leylin and Eliones returned to the Jeweled Estate in silence, their footsteps echoing faintly along the mana-lit corridors. The manor felt different at night, quieter, heavier, as though the walls themselves had listened to too many secrets and learned to keep them.
It was Eliones who broke the silence. They had barely entered the private library when she stopped walking.
"Enough games," she said, turning slowly. The playful edge she often wore was gone, replaced by something sharp and exposed. "You didn't come to Suramar for knowledge. Nor for power. And certainly not to serve me."
Leylin halted as well, facing her calmly.
"So tell me," Eliones continued, violet eyes narrowing, "what are you really after? And what do you intend to do here within the city?"
Leylin did not answer immediately. He glanced at the towering shelves, the ancient tomes glowing faintly with residual arcane signatures, knowledge hoarded while the world outside burned.
Finally, he spoke.
"I'm here to change fate," he said simply.
Eliones blinked. "Fate?"
"The fate of someone I love."
For the first time since they met, Eliones was genuinely caught off guard. She stared at him, searching his face for deception, sarcasm or anything. Finding none, she let out a short, incredulous laugh.
"You crossed oceans, infiltrated Suramar, fought the Burning Legion, and risked your life… for love?" she asked. "Don't tell me she's a Nightborne."
Leylin smiled faintly, neither confirming nor denying.
Eliones scoffed, pacing slowly. "Impossible. Even if she were Highborne, even if she stood among the nobility, do you think their kingdom would allow a human at her side? Do you think the other nobles would permit it? Tradition alone—"
"It's possible," Leylin interrupted gently. He met her gaze, his eyes steady. "With enough will."
Something flickered across Eliones' expression, envy, sharp and unguarded.
"…A man willing to walk alone into hostile lands for a single person," she murmured. "How foolish."
"Love is mutual," Leylin replied quietly.
That did it. Eliones laughed sharply, turning away. "Naive. You mistake obsession for devotion. The world doesn't bend for feelings."
"Maybe," Leylin said. "Or perhaps it's you who doesn't understand."
The air between them tightened. Eliones' hands clenched at her sides. For a moment, Leylin thought she might lash out with magic but instead, she turned her back fully.
"Leave," she said coldly. "Before I decide you're more trouble than you're worth."
Leylin inclined his head slightly and departed without another word.
Deep beneath the manor, past sealed corridors and dormant wards, lay the dungeons.
The air grew damp, heavy with old magic and resignation. Arcane lanterns flickered along stone walls etched with containment runes, each one meant to suppress, to weaken, to erase hope.
Leylin cloaked himself in illusion, adopting the form of a Nightborne noble, robes immaculate and posture disdainful. Guards stepped aside without question as he approached a reinforced cell.
Inside sat Morhun.
The tauren looked up slowly, his massive frame coiled with restrained strength. His eyes hardened. "So," Morhun rumbled, "have you come to kill me now?"
Leylin stepped closer.
"No."
With a flick of his fingers, the illusion shattered.
Morhun's eyes widened. "You!"
"It's time," Leylin said calmly. "You're free."
Shock rippled through the tauren's expression. "How… how did you disguise yourself so perfectly?"
Leylin smiled. "That's not important. What matters is where you'll go next."
Morhun stood slowly. "Highmountain," he said without hesitation. "My people must know, the Burning Legion has returned."
Leylin nodded. "I'll help you leave the city."
Morhun hesitated. "Come with me."
"I can't," Leylin replied. "Not yet. I still have things to do here."
The tauren studied him deeply, then inclined his head. "Then when my tribe is ready… I'll come back for you."
Leylin shook his head. "Don't. Worry about your people. I'll manage."
With precision and care, Leylin dismantled the dungeon wards, rerouted patrols, and opened a forgotten passage leading beyond Suramar's outer defenses. From a distant balcony, he watched Morhun disappear into the forests beyond, heading toward Highmountain.
Only then did Leylin turn back.
Hours later, Leylin sat once more in the manor's library, absorbed in a tome detailing pre-Sundering arcane conduits. The rhythmic hum of mana steadied his thoughts until footsteps approached.
Eliones stood at the doorway.
"I have another task for you," she said flatly. "Demon camps have surfaced near the western ley junctions. Clear them."
Leylin closed the book. "Understood."
---
The camp burned quietly. Leylin moved like a shadow between ruined obelisks and fel-corrupted growths, spells precise and lethal. Fire lanced through demon ranks, arcane bindings crushed others into silence. Blood, horns, and fel crystals were collected efficiently.
Then—
A ripple of mana.
Leylin froze, surprised that he hadn't sensed a spell laid by another mage. He began to manipulate the arcane threads, searching for a flaw in the complex web of runes. It was a masterfully crafted prison.
Just as he found the breakthrough point, a voice drifted across the clearing, cold and curious.
"You move efficiently," she said at last, her voice calm yet sharp. "Too efficient for a wandering magister."
Across the clearing stood a figure cloaked in regal violet robes, her staff embedded with a Magistrix sigil. A Nightborne Magistrix. She had been observing him.
Their eyes met. The air grew tense. Leylin's hand tightened ready to cast a spell if needed.
So, he thought calmly, this is where things become complicated. Her gaze never left him.
"Who are you?" she continued. "And what is your purpose in clearing Burning Legion camps so close to Suramar's borders?"
Leylin did not answer immediately.
Instead, he allowed the silence to stretch, his mind racing faster than any spell he could cast. So I wasn't only being watched by Eliones.
The realization settled heavily in his chest. From the moment he stepped outside the city's wards, he had felt occasional fluctuations in the surrounding mana, subtle, masked beneath the chaos of fel energies. He had dismissed them as remnants of demon activity.
Now he knew better. Someone powerful had been observing him.
Carefully, Leylin straightened, ensuring his hands remained visible, his stance neutral. Even so, he subtly adjusted the flow of arcane energy around his body, no spell formed, but his magic stood ready, coiled like a drawn bowstring.
"My purpose?" Leylin echoed, his voice steady. "If I had ill intentions toward Suramar, Magistrix, you wouldn't be standing here speaking to me."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "A clever answer," she said. "But not an answer."
She took a step closer.
"Every action in this city has weight. Every spell cast near our ley lines is noticed. You are not Nightborne by birth—yet you wear their magic convincingly. You move with discipline unfamiliar to our scholars. So I will ask again."
Her staff lowered just a fraction.
"What are you after?"
Leylin felt it then—a faint pressure, not hostile, but probing. A layered detection spell, subtle and refined, brushing against his illusion, testing for instability. First Arcanist-tier magic, he realized.
This was no ordinary Magistrix.
For a brief moment, Leylin considered half-truths, evasions, fabricated allegiances. But the longer he weighed his options, the clearer it became this was not a situation where clever lies would suffice.
After several heartbeats, he spoke.
"I am acting under orders," he said calmly, "from Priestess Eliones of the Jeweled Estate."
The effect was immediate. The Nightborne Magistrix froze. Her arcane probing faltered for a split second before she regained control, but Leylin had already seen it, the flicker of genuine surprise in her eyes.
"Eliones?" she repeated slowly.
She studied him anew, her expression shifting from suspicion to something far more complex, calculation, uncertainty, and a trace of disbelief.
"…That is unexpected."
Leylin said nothing, letting the name sink in. The Magistrix exhaled softly and finally lowered her staff completely.
"So she has begun moving pieces of her own," she murmured, more to herself than to him. Then she inclined her head slightly, a gesture not of submission, but acknowledgment.
"I am Thalyssra," she said. "First Arcanist of Suramar. Advisor to Grand Magistrix Elisande."
The words struck Leylin like a thunderclap. For the briefest moment, his composed exterior cracked. First Arcanist. Close advisor to Elisande.
A dozen thoughts surged through his mind at once. So the Grand Magistrix already knows. Is this a test? Surveillance? Or worse, containment? Did Eliones send me here knowing Thalyssra would appear?
Leylin's heartbeat quickened, though his face remained carefully neutral.
"I did not expect someone of your standing," he admitted cautiously.
Thalyssra watched him closely, missing nothing.
"If Elisande had ordered me to watch you," she said quietly, "this conversation would be very different."
Her words gave Leylin pause. She turned her gaze toward the distant spires of Suramar, glowing faintly beneath the night sky.
"The Burning Legion encroaches upon our borders," Thalyssra continued. "Their numbers grow by the day. Yet inside the city, the nobles feast, debate etiquette, and cling to the illusion that time itself will protect us forever."
A faint bitterness crept into her voice. "You clear demon camps efficiently," she said. "Without demanding recognition. Without rallying troops. That alone makes you… suspicious."
Leylin listened carefully.
"So tell me," Thalyssra said, turning back to him, eyes sharp once more. "Is Eliones acting on behalf of Suramar or for herself?"
The question hung heavy between them.