The next day, having seen Gwen off with Ocel in his pram for another one of the dwarf's long walks, Sarah dutifully tended to Khadgar's wounds. Continually using her magic to ease the bruises and grazes, she hoped to have relieved some of the aches and pains he would be subjected to when he woke. Having put a new dressing on his shoulder wound, she was pleased to see it was healing very nicely. There would be quite a prominent scar left, but at least that would be the worst visual reminder of his injury.

She had asked Illidan to keep Khadgar's 'resurrection' secret for the time being. She wanted to ensure his complete recovery before he had to face the hundreds of disbelieving faces and no doubt the inevitable questions. She had to prepare him for that, for it was uncertain whether he would be aware that Azeroth had spent the last two weeks almost, believing their most prominent Archmage was killed at the Dark Portal.

There was no telling how long Khadgar would be unconscious for, however, and Sarah expressed concern that he may not wake at all, but remain comatose. This, Illidan assured her, would not be the case. He was confident the Archmage would be back on his feet within the next few days. He did, however, point out that the Kirin Tor may be a little problematic. Much as it irked him to think this way, he voiced that they were most likely engaged in deliberations as to who would be appointed as their new leader, given that they were still under the impression Khadgar was dead. He suggested a meeting with at least one of the Six.

Sarah gave his suggestion consideration and after talking it over with him, they both decided the best one to talk to, although neither liked her, was Modera. She had been the longest-serving and possibly the one most likely to be considered for the vacant post.

Illidan offered to escort Sarah to the Violet Citadel in Dalaran, but she refused to go, saying she would not leave Khadgar. She also needed to be home for Ocel and by all accounts, everyone had to think things were moving ahead as the populace expected - she was meant to be a bereaved woman she reminded him. Her sudden absence may be looked upon as unstable behaviour, irrational and irresponsible for her son's sake if nought else. The meeting, therefore, would take place in her home.

The night elf did not think this wise, but Sarah explained that it would likely require Modera seeing Khadgar, for her to believe he was alive. The need for discretion obviously, was paramount.

☸

A knock at the door. She ignored it. They usually went away after two knocks.

Archmage Modera continued looking through the Kirin Tor document, outlining the requirements of an individual should they be appointed Leader. Her heart was just not in it, but she was asked to give it her consideration in time for the pending meeting of the Council in three days time. They had decided that it was prudent to proceed with naming the new Leader of the Kirin Tor. She sat, staring at the script without really seeing it. The light from the tall candelabras whilst bright enough, still irritated her eyes with their flickering.

In fairness, it really was more to do with the fact she simply did not want to read this document. A light breeze blew in through her window and automatically she dropped her purple and silver Kirin Tor paperweight upon the neat pile of documents on her desk to stop them fluttering over the side.

A second knock. Again she ignored it.

She flipped over to the next page of the lengthy manuscript. She honestly had thought she would never have to pour over this ever again, or at least not for a very long time yet. The Council, however, and even Jaina Proudmore, had voiced that she would be an excellent choice. Although in years gone by she had believed herself to possess the very makings of a reliable, dependable and honourable Leader, that opinion no longer resided within her.

She was in fact very surprised that Jaina herself had not decided to reclaim the mantle again. It seemed however, the golden-haired former leader had still not warmed to the Horde being allowed back into Dalaran and most certainly would not tolerate any of them becoming part of the Council again. That bias sat uneasily with the remaining Council members, who had been in quiet discussions about broadening the reach of the Kirin Tor, as in the olden days.

A third knock sounded, this one more persistent.

She stared at the door irritably. There was no point trying to avoid this one it seemed, whoever it was. She glanced back at the document. If she was honest, she would not really mind an interlude. This was not an enjoyable task. The pain from the loss of her Leader was still very fresh, and this exercise seemed callous, even by Modera's standards.

A fourth knock sounded. She sat back in her cushioned chair and placed the document to one side. "Enter!" she called across the room a little shrilly.

A male assistant shuffled in, bowing apologetically, his hands wringing nervously. "For - forgive me Archmage, for this interruption." The boy's forehead shone with beads of perspiration.

Modera would have normally taunted the boy, enjoying watching him squirm, but she was not in that frame of mind today. "What is it Allerton?" she said, not altogether unkindly, but not exactly friendly neither.

"A gentleman - a very tall gentleman wishes to see you," he said nervously.

Modera rolled her eyes. Quinton Allerton hailed from a reputable family in the Arathi Highlands. His family had sired two very promising mages. Quinton was meant to be the third. Somehow, Modera felt the family were going to be disappointed. The boy, while keen and studious, was nonetheless dim and controlled by a painfully shy persona. On reflection now, as she studied the skinny lad, she felt a twinge of guilt at having afforded him such hostile receptions in the past.

"Does this 'very tall gentleman' have a name?" she asked.

The boy fidgeted, his hands furiously grinding against each other. "Erm, he did not say, Archmage, but - but ..." He squirmed, obviously unsure how to continue.

"It's alright Allerton. Spit it out!" Modera encouraged.

The boy moved further into the room, closer to the Archmage's desk. He kept bobbing his head, afraid to make eye-contact with her. "He is erm - an elf, I think." Allerton's voice was but a whisper.

Modera stared at the boy before movement at the doorway drew her attention. The 'very tall gentleman' stood, cloaked, a few feet inside the room. "Archmage," a velvet voice said from within the large hood. The figure inclined his head in way of a courtesy.

A squeak came from the shy assistant. "I'm sorry, Archmage, I could not stop him following me. He's awfully big." Allerton whispered.

The Archmage blinked, not surprised by the youth's nervousness. The elf was indeed tall, but most were, it was genetic after all. "It's quite alright, Allerton. Now run along." The boy's brows creased, he could not believe he had got away with this intrusion so lightly. He bowed a few times, then skirted past the 'very tall gentleman' before scuttling out the door and closing it a little forcefully.

Music: STRANGELY BEAUTIFUL by Amethystium

https://youtu.be/0EANJUqRlcw

Modera remained seated and stared at the cloaked figure. "And who are you?" she asked, straight to the point. She absent-mindedly drummed her fingers on the armrest of her chair.

"Oh, we have met before," the soothing voice of the elf drifted out across the room.

Modera thought she saw a glimmer from inside the hood. "I have met a few of your kind, but I'm afraid I do not recall everyone's name. So please be so kind as to enlighten me as I am at a disadvantage."

The elf reached up and slid the hood back. He stared at the Archmage, a slight grin forming on his mouth.

She stared back. He was an impressive male, handsome as elves go. His black hair was glossy, worn loose and undoubtedly very long though most was still tucked away under his cloak. His skin bore a purple pigment. But it was his amber eyes which held Modera's interest. She had never seen such incredible eyes before. They almost rippled, like dancing flames in a fire grate. "Do you still not remember me?" his hypnotic voice floated across to her.

Modera's mouth felt a little dry and she ran her tongue over her teeth and lips in an attempt to remove the tacky coating. "No! I think I would have remembered someone with amber eyes had I met them," she replied. Her voice had an unusual tremor. She jutted her chin forward attempting to look unperturbed by the imposing elf.

Her visitor took a few steps forward, flipping his cloak over one shoulder. In doing so Modera's eyes were drawn to the sculpted abdomen which although it was covered by a fine linen shirt was still very noticeable due to the close fit of the fabric. He had a slow, deliberate gait; one which had Modera shifting in her chair.

She was astounded to feel her heart beating a little faster. As he neared, her skin flushed. She had an uncontrollable urge to clear her throat, which she did; twice. The room was suddenly unbearably hot. Quickly she glanced towards the window to check if it was still open. It was, but only marginally. Was she coming down with an ailment? she wondered. Perhaps a seasonal cold or something?

The elf stopped a few feet from her desk. His grin widened, and she saw a glimpse of his fangs between very full, inviting lips. "Last time we met," he said, "you thought I was full of surprises."

Her brow furrowed. "Did I? Well, I - I'm very sorry but I still do not..."

"You called me Betrayer." The elf seemed to grow in height as he straightened, towering over her desk.

Modera's eyes widened. She felt herself pressing back in her chair, her hands gripping the armrests tightly, knuckles white. "Illidan?" she gasped. "B - but...how?" Finally, she managed to push herself up from her seat and she quickly stood behind it, using it as a shield between her and the former demon hunter.

Illidan laughed softly. "You do not need to fear me. I will not dangle you by your throat this time."

The Archmage stared at him, still inexplicably drawn to his eyes. Inwardly, she wrestled to look away, but despite herself, she could not. "Have you put some sort of - spell on me?" she asked, a little breathless.

Illidan looked down at her desk and spied her Kirin Tor signet. He picked it up, pretending to study its detail. Strands of his ebony hair had fallen forward covering his face. Modera found herself leaning down trying to catch a glimpse of his eyes. He inclined his head ever so slightly to look in her direction. She was instantly aware of what she had been doing and pulled herself straight. Illidan laughed softly. "Do I enchant you now, Archmage?" he smirked, his fangs just catching the light from the flickering candles on her desk. A flash of amber shot her way from under his dark lashes.

She had to forcibly stop herself from clutching her breast. "No! That is not what I meant, at all!" She said hurriedly. Her breathing was uncharacteristically short and sharp. "I meant, you look - you look ..." She was flustered, a condition she was not accustomed to.

Illidan, grinning, put down her ring and looked back at her. "Different?" he offered.

"Yes! Quite!" She felt a little unsteady.

"Hmm." He inhaled and exhaled lengthily, drawing out the Archmage's noticeable discomfort.

Turning his enormous frame to face her, he drew himself up to his full height. His charismatic smile captivated her, she seemed transfixed, fascinated, as if waiting for him to utter or do something astounding. "And you, Modera..." A small sound escaped her mouth as her name tumbled from his lips. But his smile suddenly faded and his eyes darkened. "...are just the same." He finished dismissively. Her brown eyes filled with uncertainty. Her fingers gripped the back of her chair as she was jolted back to reality.

Illidan paced in front of her desk. "My appearance does not change who I am, Archmage. Suffice to say I am still no fan of yours, but I am here on an important matter which far outweighs my dislike of you." His voice, although it still maintained the characteristic soft tone of the night elf, had another edge to it. His opinion of her was crystal clear.

The amber eyes drifted over the document Modera had been studying minutes before. She reached forward and snatched the parchment away. She was drawn to his eyes once more. "You look to replacing him so soon?" His voice was laced with disapproval.

Modera faltered. "It is, sadly, a necessary obligation, but not one I enjoy."

"Really!" he spat, remembering quite clearly how vitriolic the woman could be.

"Yes! Really! Khadgar was a great man and a prestigious leader. It saddens me immensely that... he is gone." Her face crumpled slightly.

Illidan studied the woman before him. The tremor in her voice had sounded genuine enough and her expression appeared sincere. She was quite unlike the emotionless, cold witch she normally exuded.

Had recent events made her a changed woman? Perhaps the loss of Khadgar had indeed upset her greatly, in which case, his errand might turn out easier than he thought. Leaning across the desk he spoke again. "I am here at the request of another. One I think, you should have the courtesy to meet. And perhaps apologise to."

Modera moved out from behind the chair. Carefully replacing the document on the desk, she straightened as she looked up at the elf. She needed no more clues. She knew to whom he referred.

In a way, it was a relief that Sarah had asked to meet with her, for it had been preying on her mind from the day she had seen her - broken, distraught with her world ripped from under her at the Dark Portal. And then again at the memorial service, as she bravely tried to maintain a quiet dignity amongst the hundreds of mourners. She took a deep breath. "How is she?" she asked Illidan.

The amber eyes flashed, holding her gaze, assessing the sincerity behind her enquiry. He thought how best to answer her but decided she would know soon enough.

"I suggest you do not go in your Kirin Tor's finest." His eyes raked over her attire. She gulped and lowered her gaze to her robe, thinking about how best to dress for the occasion. Illidan continued. "She wishes you to visit her home and would appreciate all discretion."

Modera nodded. "I understand," she replied. Her breathing was still being manipulated by the mere closeness of the night elf. "I will just be a moment, and then I will portal us to Stormwind."