Malfurion's Meditation - Steel and Honey
(Fragment of reflection, written in Malfurion's hand)
We sat by the canal this afternoon, light gilding the water, petals drifting in the current. Tyrande's laughter filled the air as if it had been waiting there all along, needing only her voice to wake it.
Lytavis sat straighter than I have ever seen her, dirt still on her hands, scratches across her arms, and yet she looked more radiant than any priestess clothed in ceremony. She had walked into the wild alone and returned with her head unbowed.
Illidan was himself—sharp smile, quick retort, laughter like a blade drawn against stone. And yet even he laughed truly, as though her words had struck some hidden place within him.
I watched the four of us share pie, forks clinking, crumbs stolen by the raven. No prophecy, no solemn ritual. Just warmth—the kind that binds without binding.
If the world one day calls us to greater trials, I will remember this simple sweetness: honey on the tongue, golden light on the water, and the certainty that courage blooms as easily in friends as it does in heroes.