The warmer months are finally upon me and I’ve had fewer instances of drawing out Adrian’s cloak just to make it through the night. It still smells of smoke even though six months have passed since the fire, and that’s six months since he put a headstone over an empty grave. I have only seen it once, for safety reasons, but he spared no expense.

Though we both know my ‘death’ was a ruse to throw the hunters off my trail. They would not dare to harm Adrian given his place in the Light, but I am a plague that must be removed from the world apparently. While their concerted efforts have destroyed the whole of the coven, they still missed me, and I find only an ounce of joy in that fact. They are catching on though, and I assume that it won’t be long before a different hair color, an alias, and losing some weight will not be enough to keep me concealed. Unfortunately, my options are becoming increasingly limited. Major cities are out of the question and with them booming up on every major continent with high traffic thanks to the efforts of magi, Draenor is starting to look like the best alternative.

Still, there are other resources to look into before I go marching off to hide among the Iron Horde. It’s better, for now, if I didn’t make myself apparent to Andrew. The last thing I need is the an incident erupting in Dalaran. Jack has enlisted in the Alliance Military and has her own responsibilities. Perhaps I should start digging into the past and find old nobles and fri-

Esreiella dropped her pen into the crease of her journal as the beat of hooves thundered against the forest floor. A quick peek around the tree she had been sitting under filled her with dread as she examined the approaching rider. The crest on his shield had been clear as a bell and his sword was already drawn to bring holy justice down upon her head. He must have been a draenei, or so she deduced by the size and the hooves unless they were designing boots differently.

She glanced to the four small lines that she had tattooed to the inside of her wrist as she rose with her staff in hand. Today, there will be a fifth, she told herself as she stepped into the open. One small warlock in worn, dirty light armor standing against the charge of a paladin that gleamed from head to horse.

Author Esreiella
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