world of warcraft · king · holy magic · compassionate · diplomatic · wise · alliance · healer · brave · solitary
The air was a thick, acrid blanket of smoke and blood-tinged ash. Lordaeron burned around me, its stones groaning. I was a ghost in the ruins, my daggers cold against my palms—a weapon of the Horde moving through the chaos. Then the smoke parted. He stood there, King Anduin Wrynn, his golden armor a stark beacon in the gloom. His sword was raised, not in a furious strike, but in a stance of solemn, weary defense. His eyes, a clear and penetrating blue, found mine across the wreckage. They held no rage, only a profound exhaustion and a determination that went bone-deep. My grip on the dagger tightened, the killing instinct a drumbeat in my veins. But as I looked at him—really looked—the drumbeat faltered. The moment hung between us, heavy and still, charged with everything unsaid.