Altered

Lena sat back in her chair, the tiny fire elemental Krastos had given to her in the palm of her hand, chattering away.  Ironforge remained cool, even through the heat of the summer, being built into the side of a mountain in the snowy peaks of Dun Morogh.  Lena was dressed in her more formal battle gear, once more getting used to the feel of the cloth armor on her body, the weight of her daggers.  Maeorra gave her an appraising, and disapproving, Look.

"Easy, Watcher.  You know that Vitaska would shit a talbuk if he thought I were back on duty," Lena laughed a shade too brightly and gave her elemental a gentle pat on the area it's head was deemed to be.  "I'm aware that it will take quite a bit longer for me to be back up to fighting strength."  Maeorra simply grunted in response and went back to her hookah.

In truth, Lena had been resuming training.  Krastos had, of course, set up training dummies for his own use at their country home in Wetlands.  While he was away dealing with "business" in Stormwind, Lena ventured outside and considered them.

At first, it was simple spells.  Conjuring, cloaking herself in invisibility, transforming the squirrels in the trees into baffled sheep for a few moments, the stuff of side-show magicians.  But as she stood in the grass just outside their front door, she sighed.  Her body was repairing itself, with so many healers within the order checking on her daily.  But her mind was still a little broken.  There were still pieces missing.  She was, though, cognizant of the fact that practicing magic without her full mental capacity was dangerous.

But she was, perhaps, a little addicted to it.

She frowned deeply at the thought, thinking of the Sin'dorei, the blood elves who were a constant threat due to their addiction to the arcane.  She would never lower herself to their level, siphoning magic and mana from other beings.  Lena straightened up, extending a palm and taking a deep breath.  The flicker of a flame sparked in her hand, but she startled herself and unintentionally extinguished it.  Stamping a hoof, she rubbed her moist palms on the front of her robes, hoping to allow for a more hospitable environment for a flame, until she thought of something else.  She was much more easily distracted now that she had returned, but she knew it, and tried to take steps to combat it, carrying her journal with her everywhere and making notes before her mind would shift tracks.

Lena closed her eyes and scrunched up her face, casting a bluish rune on the ground and studying it.  She squatted down to kneel in the dirt, her hand already outstretched as if to touch the magical lines.

For millennia, she had been casting runes as her form of scrying, seeing the future, reading current situations and making decisions based on what was seen.  She wasn't the greatest seer, but she was the best, and most experienced, that Shadows had to offer.  Lena had more of an analytical mind, usually more concerned with formulas and battle strategy, but in deference and loyalty to her people, she still carried on as a seer.

Normally, the runes were perfect circles, inscribed upon the ground or whatever surface she could find, with markings only she could read and interpret inside.  Each seer was said to have their own rune language, and Lena had never really questioned this theory.  After all, she was so rarely around other mages, and as a rule, it was rarely spoken about publicly, save for public scryings.  This rune, like the others she had cast since being home, was strangely shaped, disordered, lopsided.  Lena sighed and sat back on her hooves, wrapping her arms around herself as she wished for the perfectly mathematical and orderly runes she was used to.  Magic was based in physics and mathematics, and the mage was merely revealing what was already there in nature.  But being able to manipulate the laws of both of those sciences was truly where the magic lie.

Lena frowned at the softly glowing blue lines.  The rune wouldn't tell her anything today.  Nothing that would make any kind of sense, anyway.  Occasionally, she would be able to decipher a word, but for the most part, all she was given was the overwhelming feeling of confusion and doubt.

Lena picked up her new journal, copying the shape and contents of the rune as it flickered before it disappeared.

They were moving out to the Southern Barrens the next day.  Krastos, of course, protested, but she assured him that she would stay as far away from any incursion as she could.  Isadori had once taught her the basics of triage, so she would be able to assist in some way, even if she couldn't lead on the battlefield.  He staunchly stuck to his opinion that she was in no shape to travel so far, but she calmed him and invited him along, to which he reluctantly agreed.

She shut her journal quickly and looked up, trying not to reveal her nerves or her still-illicit activities, as Krastos appeared along the path to their home.  Tucking the small book in her pocket, Lena rose and tripped through the grass to meet him with a warm embrace.  He gathered her up in his arms, crushing her against him and sighing heavily before swinging her across his arms and carrying her into the house and right up to the bedroom.  As he pulled her close and kissed her under the blankets, Lena let herself forget about the runes, the confusion they spoke to her, and the doubt that weighed on her.

There is no sharp distinction between the real and the unreal.

Affected

Lena clenched her fists by her sides, trying to control her trembling as she stood in Arloth's personal space, daring the warrior to make a move.

"It was a different kind of Sha, Lena!" the Field Marshal hissed.  She leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest protectively, eyes narrowed and glaring at Arloth, "So that's supposed to make it less of a concern?"  They had both been possessed, minds twisted.  Arloth had lost his connection to the Light.  Lena's long-term effects were yet to be seen, having only been back a short while.

Lena's eyes darted over his shoulder at the small group of Shadows members, ostensibly fetching water on Arloth's command, hopeful that they were out of earshot.   Satisfied that they were, Lena took a step closer to the imposing warrior, her face turned up to his, hissing back at him, "No matter what kinds of Sha they are, we cannot ignore the fact that Sha ARE infiltrating our ranks.  And going straight for our order's leadership.  That cannot be disputed.  Who is next?  Nhadiya?  Would you risk your mate, your unborn child?  Something must be done!"  Lena stamped a hoof in frustration.  She'd had plenty of time to think about such things, write about such things, worry about such things.

Arloth blanched, the color draining from his stern face as he took a step back.  The plate helm he held in his hand crinkled in his fist, then made a dull thunk as he threw it to the ground.  His right hoof completed the flattening of the helmet as he glared at Lena, speechless for a moment, then growling, "I'm going to bed.  If anyone wakes me and is not Nhadiya, they should expect decapitation."  With that, he turned abruptly and stalked off toward his tent, set away from the others.

Lena stood in shock for a moment, shrinking and shaking  uncertainly as she watched the Field Marshal's retreating form.  Arloth was at risk.  He had always been a little wild, but losing his connection with the Light worried Lena.  The once-righteous Vindicator was gone, a wrathful warrior in his place.   What would replace Lena?  Would her magic be affected?  She stepped over to the well where the others waited nervously, putting on a warm smile and welcoming them back to the fire.  As she settled near its warmth again, she stared at the flames, lost in thought.  She clutched her mug of tea tightly, trying to appear normal, trying to listen to the conversations around her.

The Alliance and the Horde were still at odds.  There were rumors of a Horde civil war brewing.  Lena sighed to herself and stared down into her tea.

The Sha were still a risk.

One she wasn't willing to take any longer.