For many days, we courted the Kaldorei and their armies. They were the most receptive to our presence, although they seemed hesitant to engage fully in this conflict. Elder priestess Ash’ana invited us to the most intimate of ceremonies, and I was adorned in the warpaint of her people. Though the pigment has now left my skin, the sentiment behind it is indelible. A saber. The leader of her people, as she termed me.

But we weren’t prepared for the loss at Mojache. The totemic ward on the Horde base turned the tide for us, at so crucial a moment. We thought we’d won. We thought we’d wipe out the invasion.

We were wrong.

Now I wait in Stormwind for a troubled young brother to find me. I cannot return to A’dal until I have found Alkrenon. If he is to learn patience, love, and forgiveness, who better a teacher than the Naaru who must forgive me for my failures?