Warcraft Chronicles: The Wanderers of Azeroth​ ⁽⁵⁵⁾

Leon and Iris lay panting behind the ridge, the adrenaline crash leaving them trembling. The sounds from the canyon had shifted—the shrieks of the satyrs were now mixed with deep, guttural roars and the crackle of powerful magic. The battle was far from over, but…

The silence in the canyon was absolute, broken only by the faint, skittering sound of the satyrs' hooves on the stone. They moved with an unnatural, fluid grace, their forms shimmering as if seen through heat haze. Their eyes, glowing with a sickly green light,…

Dawn in the valley was a gentle, muted affair, the sun's rays struggling to pierce the high canopy of pines. Leon awoke to the smell of herbal tea brewing over the fire. Iris was already up, her movements quiet and purposeful as she packed a…

For a long time, they did not speak. Words were inadequate, clumsy things compared to the simple, profound fact of their presence together by the fire. The wind whispered through the pines, the flames danced, and the vast, starry sky arched overhead, indifferent to the…

Following the path of the tauren druid was like chasing a ghost. The mountain lion left no tracks on the wind-scoured rock, and the high passes were a labyrinth of stone and shadow. Leon pushed north with a renewed, almost feverish determination, driven by the…