He stood near the edge of the Moonwell, his silhouette sharp against the silver glow of the sacred waters. Insignious. We had not spoken since the fires of the Fourth War had cooled, and the sight of him here, in the heart of the Night Elves' fragile recovery, felt like a glitch in the tapestry of the world. He wore the weathered leather of a traveler who had seen too many horizons, his eyes reflecting a weariness that mirrored my own.

Visit the World of Warcraft Forums for community discussions.

"I didn't think you'd return to this place," he said, his voice a low rasp that cut through the soft chirping of the night insects.

"Some roots go deeper than fire can reach," I replied, stepping into the light of the Moonwell.

Browse the WoW Roleplay Wiki for character and lore inspiration.