I know there are many people out there with their own imaginings as to what happened with Saché after the Battle of Naboo, especially if they've read Queen's Peril by EK Johnston.

Well, here's my own imagining. It certainly helps if you've read “Queen's Peril”, but I don't think it's required. If you haven't, though, I reccomend the entire trilogy of books that delve into the lives of Padme and her handmaidens.

For now, what we have is Saché pushing through the pain and fatigue after her rescue from the prison camps, and what happens once the battle is over and she finally has time to breathe. Fortunately, Yané is there to help her along.

To Saché it seemed as if the entire palace had erupted in blaster fire. It had been a running firefight from the main hangar into the palace proper and the battle droids were relentless. Fighting side by side with what security forces they had been able to liberate, Saché, the other handmaidens, and Padme herself, were pushing as hard as they could to get to the throne room now that the pilots had gotten to their ships. Saché might have felt better about their chances if the two Jedi were still with them, but they had their own battle to fight it seemed, and so it was up to the rest of them to press the attack.

Not long after they made it into the palace, Sabé and Padme agreed to split up. Saché wound up in Sabé’s group along with Yané, and several guards, while Padme took Rabe and Eirte, and the remaining forces to head in through the corridors in an effort to split the droid army’s focus.

The gardens were out in the open, but there were plenty of places to take cover, and that came in handy as they were set upon by droids almost immediately. Saché’s training came back to her in a heartbeat. She took cover near Yané and returned fire, hitting her targets with the same skill she had developed in Captain Panaka’s relentless combat training. She was small and all of twelve years old, but she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to fight for her planet as hard as everyone else.

It was hard, though. Days of imprisonment, scarce rations, short tempers…and the torture. She tried pushing the memory of it from her mind as she focused on the battle at hand, but it kept coming back. The droids strapping her down. The torture mechanism hovering close by…and the shocks. The burning charges of electricity coursing in blue arcs right through her clothing and searing into her flesh. She had screamed. There was nothing else to do. She refused to break. She refused to give in. So many times she was given a brief respite…a chance to breathe…and a chance to answer their questions…but she refused. As easy as it would have been to give in, she continued to refuse.

The torture had left her robes in burned and ruined tatters. Her energy was gone. She could barely move. In the time since they had been rescued from the prison camp, there had never been a moment’s rest. That first night was when she and the others had been liberated by Captain Panaka had been a rush of adrenaline and relief. The next day and night had been a blur. Food had been what rations could be spared, and sleep for an hour or two here and there. First an alliance with the Gungans and then battle planning and strategy. Now here she was in the palace she knew like the back of her hand, fighting a two-front war. First, for her life and the lives of all Naboo, and Gungans as well. Second, fighting against her own fatigue as her body screamed at her constantly to just collapse where she stood.

Yané and Sabé and the other guards were returning fire, and they seemed to slowly begin to gain an edge in the battle, pressing their advantage until they were able to work their way out of the gardens and into a side corridor in the palace. Saché hurried along with the rest of the group, her heart pounding in her chest so loud it seemed she could hear the blood thumping in her ears.

She was running mostly on adrenaline. That had to be it, she thought briefly as she ran through the halls, occasionally having to take cover to shoot down more droids. Somehow they had fought their way up to the level where the throne room was located, and had rejoined the other handmaidens and guards. Towards the back of the group and small as she was she couldn’t see the throne room clearly, but the group skidded to a halt long enough for her to hear Sabé call out

“Viceroy!” she called out in the Queen's voice. “Your occupation here has ended.”

A distraction. A decoy. That had to be it. Suddenly Sabé and the other guards turned and were running and she and Yané turned with them and ran. Droids followed and soon they were in another firefight, finding any cover they could and returning fire. Saché wasn’t sure it would ever end. Maybe this was how she would die…fighting for the freedom of her people. It would be a noble death…maybe she should just give up…

And then there was silence.

Saché hadn’t quite realized what had happened. She could hear her own ragged breathing. She realized then, the droids weren’t shooting at them any more. She was about to chance a look when Yané put a hand on her shoulder

“It’s over,” Yané said, as tired and breathless as Saché felt “Look.”

Saché lowered her blaster and saw that Yané was right. Any droids that hadn’t been shot down had fallen over or just stopped moving of their own accord. It took Saché a moment to process this revelation. They had done it. The droid control ship had either been disabled or destroyed.

The hallway was silent for a moment as that sank in for everyone. Then the cheers of triumph began. Saché began to laugh. The relief building in her was palpable. Yané laughed too and hugged Saché tightly, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by the other handmaidens. Despite how uncomfortable she had been at first about her feelings for the older girl, Saché returned the hug gratefully, hugging close to the girl she had come to care for so deeply.

The others came out from their cover to secure the area. Yané helped Saché to her feet and Saché kept laughing. At first Yané seemed to think it was simply the stunned elation that the battle had truly been won.

But Saché kept laughing. Saché realized then that her hands were shaking, then her legs, and the rest of her body. Her whole body was trembling and it occurred to her that maybe hysteria was setting in. What seemed more likely, though, was that the adrenaline that had kept her going for so long through so much stress, pain and torment, was finally wearing off.

Out of danger for, perhaps, the first time in days, any drive she had to keep going, to keep pushing, was wearing off. No proper sleep. No proper food. Fighting for her people’s freedom on adrenaline alone. Her body had to quit sooner or later.

The last thing she remembered was Yané looking at her in concern before Saché’s body finally gave out and she collapsed to the floor..

Saché drifted in the darkness…in a dreamlike state. Was she dead? Was she dreaming? She couldn’t see anything…just the dark. Maybe her eyes were closed. If they were she didn’t feel like opening them. Did she even have eyes to open? Did she even have a body any more? Dreams had that strange way of feeling both real and unreal at the same time. What was even real any more?

As her thoughts drifted in the dark she began to hear someone, as if from far away…

“...scars… …most of her body…”

Scars? Right, that was it. She had been tortured.Tortured by that terrible woman who demanded she betray her people… Not in this lifetime, Saché thought to herself. Oh there had been so many moments she had wanted to, but no…she’d rather die first.

“...surprised she made it this far…”

Then a new voice

“...is there anything else wrong with her?...”

The new voice sounded familiar. Yané, maybe? Her thoughts warmed to the idea. Alone in the darkness she let herself think about all they had been through since becoming handmaidens. Saché felt a vague pang of regret with how she had handled the whole thing. At least Yané seemed willing to still give it a chance, even after everything. That put Saché’s mind at ease.

“...needs rest… …a lot of it…. …a few days…”

More words. It was beginning to get tiresome struggling to hear what was being said. Rest sounded like a good idea, though. Maybe that’s what she really needed. It was amazingly easy to just let herself sink back into a deep slumber…

After a time, Saché realized her eyes were open. She was staring up at the ceiling. She blinked a moment as her senses slowly returned to her as she slowly became conscious. Where was she? She just barely picked up the sounds of distant conversations…ones that sounded vaguely clinical. It had to be the palace infirmary.

She had collapsed. She was beginning to remember now. She had pressed herself as hard as she could to serve her Queen and save her people…even harder than her body could handle…and she had collapsed when it was all over and energy was no longer needed, because she simply didn’t have any left. Now she was in a bed in the infirmary.

She took a deep breath. Her body didn’t ache. In fact there was no pain at all. It felt heavy…numb…like she had been given a sedative.. Tucked under the bed covers, she moved her hands slightly, testing her sensation of touch before moving her hands slowly up her body, inspecting it. Someone or something…a nurse droid probably…had removed her battle uniform at some point. All she seemed to wear now was a medical gown and clean underclothes. She felt cleaner too. She’d been bathed. That was a relief. She didn’t want to remember how terrible she knew she had smelled the night of her rescue from the camp.

As her fingers moved along her skin under her gown she began to feel the traces of the scarring. The nightmare had been real. Those hours she had spent being tortured, the pain had been all there was. The pain like fire burning through every nerve ending in her body until it had finally stopped. The marks were still there. She closed her eyes for a moment, not really having had time to come to grips with it until now. They likely would always be there. She consciously pushed her grief down, refusing to acknowledge it. She moved her hands out from under her gown and then glanced left and right to get a better idea of where in the infirmary she was.

That was when she saw Yané. The other girl was wearing a clean set of handmaiden robes as was in a chair near the bed, dozing quietly. Saché’s gaze lingered on her. She had felt something for Yané the night they first met…even if, at the time, she couldn’t quite articulate what it was. It had made her uncomfortable at the time and it hadn’t felt right to her being alone with Yané for any reason until she sorted them out, especially not even being fourteen yet. Of course once she did sort them out and realized, at the least, she was crushing on Yané, if not totally falling for her, that made things even more awkward.

Then there was the night of the concert. Saché had been feeling miserable all day for reasons that should have occurred to her, or even the other girls, in retrospect, but it’s not like she had ever had a period before. Regardless, when Saché was curled up in bed and Yané had laid a comforting hand on her before leaving that night, Saché had felt herself warm to the touch. Over time Yané had become a comforting presence in her world.

Then the invasion…and the prison camp. Imprisoned together, Saché and Yané, at last, had some quiet time in between the work they were doing to talk. To really talk, and sort things out. She liked Yané…like liked…and it thrilled her young heart when Yané said she liked her too.

Saché wasn’t sure she wanted to wake Yané from her nap, but the need to hear her voice again was surprisingly strong, so she said, quietly at first.

“Yané?” she said softly.

That was apparently enough, as the other girl twitched slightly and blinked her eyes open, as if slightly startled. Her eyes widened then.

“Saché?! You’re awake!” Yané exclaimed, keeping her voice down a little bit, but the relief in her voice was clear as a bell. Saché couldn’t help but smile in return.

“Looks that way,” she said.

“How are you feeling?” Yané asked, sliding the chair over next to the bed. She looked like she was about to hug Saché, but she hesitated a moment and settled for taking Saché’s hand when she moved it out from under the covers, holding it in both of hers.

“Tired,” Saché admitted “I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

“That’s what the doctors said,” Yané replied “You pushed yourself so hard. It’ll take time to recover.”

“How long has it been? Since the battle, I mean,” Saché asked curiously.

“That was the day before last,” Yané said, squeezing Saché’s hand gently, “You slept the rest of that day, all day yesterday and now today…well, it’s just past noon now. At first they were keeping you sedated but since last night it’s just been a normal sleep.

“Have…” Saché began, as a question formed in her mind “Have you been with me the whole time?”

“Well, aside from the time it took for me to change,” Yané said, nodding “Yes, I have. Padme and the others were here…but duties can’t wait. Even with everything going on, Padme said it was all right to stay with you…on the condition I was to tell them as soon as you were awake.”

Yané paused a moment before she continued

“I think our secret’s out,” she said.

Saché’s eyes widened slightly as she could almost feel her cheeks beginning to blush before Yané continued.

“Among Padme and the others at least,” Yané said.

Saché thought about that for a moment, then nodded slightly.

“That's ok,” she said finally, “I want them to see us. I want them to know. It’ll be nice not having to dance around each other any more.”

“As do I,” Yané said with a smile “And, honestly, I’d much rather dance with you.”

“I don’t know that I can dance that well,” Saché said, blushing slightly.

“Well, neither can I,” Yané admitted “But we can learn together sometime.”

Saché nodded and it was that exact moment when her body betrayed her by her stomach growling loudly and she and Yané couldn’t help but laugh briefly.

‘Sounds like someone’s hungry,” Yané said “Hardly surprising. I’ll go fetch you some food, and notify the Queen, ok?”

“I think I could use some,” Saché said with a yawn “And then maybe some more sleep.”

Yané nodded, reluctantly letting go of Saché’s hand before getting up to leave. She paused at the door to look back at Saché a moment more before disappearing into the hall outside.

Saché looked up at the ceiling again and felt herself smile. It felt good to smile again.

And yet, now that she was alone again, something niggled at the edge of her consciousness…a memory she didn’t want to remember. For a moment she could swear she could hear the shocks of the torture device…and for an all too long moment she could swear she could feel the pain of it again.

Her mood shifted almost instantly. She shut her eyes tight then. She had no strength left to fight. So she simply rolled over in her bed and sobbed into her pillow.

When Yané returned and found Saché in such a state, she put down the tray of food she brought as quickly as she could and rushed to Saché’s side. She didn’t even pause to ask what was wrong. Instead she sat on the bed with Saché and pulled the younger girl close, holding her tightly and began to rock her gently. Any hint of professionalism that they might have had as handmaidens was completely gone. Yané simply held Saché and rocked her gently, stroking her hair soothingly, helping her calm.

Saché had latched onto Yané as soon as she felt her presence, crying softly into her chest as the older girl held her.

“Why?!” she cried “Why’d they do this to me?!”

Yané’s hold on Saché tightened in comfort and she even cried a little herself

“It all right,” Yané said softly “They’re gone now. They’re gone and I’m here. I’m here for you. And I’m not going anywhere.”

A short while later, Sabé, Rabé and Eirté came to check on them…and they joined the two. Giving their comfort and reassurance to Saché as well.

Steaming hot water poured down like rain over Saché’s head and down her back as she stood in the shower. She was released from the infirmary the day after she had woken up again. Rest and light activity was really the only prescription at this point, so she was back in the royal suite with the others. The others were taking the ‘prescription’ seriously, though, and Padme herself had insisted that Saché continue her rest for the time being.

In the time she had been released, she had been briefed on the full extent of, not only their victory, but their losses as well. The funeral for Qui Gon Jinn had been the first one she’d ever been to. She was hopeful there weren’t many more to come in her life.

But on the opposite side, she was able to join the others on the steps of the palace to celebrate the peace that was established between the Naboo and the Gungans.

Now it was night and she was washing herself clean of the day’s activities and just letting herself soak in the steam and the hot water. She did feel much better now, physically. It was amazing what rest and warm meals did for a person.. It also helped that the sleeping rotation had been updated and she was sleeping with Yané this week…something she didn’t feel uncomfortable about for the first time since they first met.

When she was done bathing, she stepped out of the shower and began drying herself off. She paused a moment after she was finished and took a deep breath before turning to face the mirror. She forced herself, as she had after every shower over the last few days, to look at her body; to see all the scars that covered it; all the signs of her torture.

She stepped closer to the mirror and studied them intently. There wasn’t a spot on her body that had been spared. She was slowly accepting this new reality. She hadn’t had a chance to tell her parents. The secrecy of her position being what it was, she wasn’t sure how she would even begin to tell them. The families of all the handmaidens were only told they had been captured during the occupation but that they were well. Saché’s parents were told she had been injured, but she had healed and was thriving.

Saché closed her eyes and shook her head. She knew she shouldn’t put it off, but tonight she just wanted to rest. Once she was dried Saché dressed in her night clothes and headed to the bedroom.

Yané was already settled on her side of the bed reading a book on a small datapad when Saché came in.

“How are you feeling?” Yané asked softly.

“Better,” Saché admitted “I still feel a little sore in places, but I think I’m healing…as much as I can expect.”

Saché walked to her side of the wide bed and crawled in under the covers.

“You can keep reading if you like,” She said to Yané.

“Oh now, it’s alright,” Yané replied, setting her book aside “I’m at a good stopping point.

Yané turned out the lights and settled herself in bed.

“Good night, then,” she said “if you need anything…”

“I know,” Saché said, hesitating slightly before saying “Thank you…I appreciate it.”

The two were silent for a while, each one thinking the other had drifted off as they drifted off themselves. After a while though, Saché spoke softly.

“Yané?” she asked almost as quietly as a whisper “Are you still awake?”

“Yes,” Yané answered just as quietly, rolling over in bed to face Saché.

Saché was silent again, Yané waiting patiently for her to say more. Saché had been so grateful for that. Never pressing, never pushing, just letting Saché open up on her own.

“Could I…?” Saché began then stopped “I mean could we… …could you?”

She stammered a little bit but, before she knew it, Yané had slid over to her and drew her close. Not doing anything untoward, but just holding Saché, like Yané had held her in the infirmary.

“Does that feel better?” Yané asked softly.

“It does,” Saché replied.

“I don’t think any of us will get over things in just a night,” Yané said quietly “You most especially…but however long it takes, Saché. The rest of us will be here for you. I will be here for you.”

Saché hugged close to Yané then, and the two girls settled in for a well deserved rest. The road to recovery would be long, but with Yané by her side, Saché knew she could do it.

I've played WoW since the beginning and this is only the third time that a character or class moved me to write about them.

This story revolves around my newly minted Demon Hunter, Khalysta, and her long imprisonment in the Vault of the Wardens. It talks a little about who she is and how she came to be. Trapped for what seems like an eternity in the vaults, all she can do with her consciousness as it comes and goes is reflect silently on how she came to be here.

I like writing these sorts of stories as self-reflection gives me an opportunity to focus more on thoughts and ideas as opposed to actions. It's short. It's simple.

Cold. Darkness. Vague shadows and visions. In some ways, being imprisoned in crystal was not unlike aspects of the ritual that made Khalysta what she was. It was impossible for her to judge the passage of time. Time had no meaning. All there was, was the darkness, the cold and, from time to time, whispers in her mind. The whispers, a last remnant of the demon soul fused with her own.

How much time had passed since her Lord and Master, Illidan StormRage had charged her with venturing into Mardum, part of an elite force of Illidari, to retrieve a powerful keystone. Illidan had said it was the key to ending the Burning Legion. Meanwhile he would protect the Black Temple against the fierce siege pounding relentlessly on the gates. A siege laid upon it by small minded people who refused to understand what the Illidari were trying to do.

What good had it done the Illidari in the end? Despite moving with a speed and hunger that saw hundreds of demons fall before her might and that of the forces she fought alongside, they had still been too late. The last thing Khalysta remembered seeing upon her return to the temple was the helm of that hateful Warden, Maiev Shadowsong...and Lord Illidan…dead. The elven bitch then turned on the rest of the Illidari, and encased them in a crystal prison of their own demonic blood before any of them could react. Khalysta hated her. She hated all of the denizens of Azeroth who refused to see what was right in front of them.

The truth. The truth of The Burning Legion.

It was a truth she had learned the hard way. When she saw her village...her parents, her whole family decimated with such ease they all might as well have been lambs to the slaughter. After that, rage was all she felt. It was all she could feel. It drove her from her calling at the Temple of Elune where she once thought to become a Priestess. It was rage that drove her to Illidan. It was rage that drove her to Shadowmoon Valley where she demanded...not requested...demanded to join Illidan’s fight against the Burning Legion. It was rage that allowed her to survive the training and eventual bonding ritual to become one of his new elite force...the Illidari.

Now her consciousness floated in the darkness. Visions of the slaughter of her loved ones, her bonding ritual with the demon, and visions of Maiev Shadowsong drifted through her mind like so many dreams that are hard to remember afterwards. Then the whispers in her mind would come again. In her bonding ritual, it had been a succubus that had been summoned. Of course it had thought to dominate her, but in the end it had been Khalysta who ripped the creature’s throat open and drank of it’s blood in a savage rage. She often wondered if the whispers she still heard in her mind were of it’s demon soul, or merely another side of her mind made more vocal by the demon power within. The whispers would speak of the rage felt at being so imprisoned. Other times they spoke of darker things, sometimes even arousing things. Such was a succubus’ nature she supposed. As the endless eternity dragged on, Khalysta occasionally wondered in stolen moments of consciousness if the voices were teasing her or trying to drive her insane...or both.

It had been a long time after she had become an Illidari that she began to feel anything other than rage. She still felt an eternal hatred for the Burning Legion and it drove her through her intense training along with the others of her kind with a sort of madness to be the very best at what she was taught. But in more peaceful moments within the dark training halls she began to feel other emotions. Ones she remembered feeling when she had just been a simple Night Elf. Once her mind cleared enough to understand that she was surrounded by those who thought as she did...by those who were as outcast from their homes as she now was...and that despite that, would do anything, and sacrifice anything to protect the people that now hated and feared them… Only then did she begin to open up, herself.

In the silent darkness of her prison Khalysta would remember those times. The first few lessons from those who had made the transition before to begin to see in the way that Illidari did. Honing her spectral sight until it was even sharper than any mortal definition of sight could ever be. Training relentlessly both in combat and mastery of the Fel day and night and day again. She even remembered just sitting with others in the ruins of Karabor outside the Black Temple, sometimes speaking of their shared desires for victory, other times speaking of what had brought them there. In those times Khalysta formed...well...she had never been sure if she could call them friendships, but it was certainly a strong comradery. Every one of them knew that they fought for a common goal. Every one of them knew the war they trained for might bring them death. But through and through, they knew they would fight to the bitter end. And the rest of the Illidari would always back them up until their dying breath.

Of course even then the demonic thoughts of the succubus would whisper in her mind to take such relationships a step further. There had been a time, long before the Burning Legion had destroyed her life, that pleasures of the flesh were not unknown to her, and it was something she quite enjoyed. But Khalysta refused to do anything that might give the demon soul bound to her, if indeed it still had it’s own consciousness, even a moment to push her over the edge, even as her powers grew stronger.

As her training progressed, first her trainers, and then Illidan himself had begun to see the power within her. It was almost as though she had been destined since birth to be one of his demon hunters. When their first taste of combat came at their infiltration of one of the burning legion’s own homeworlds, Khalysta had carved through the masses of demon hordes alongside her fellow Illidari as though they were nothing. But not only that. She also aided and helped her brethren where she could, as they returned the favor for her. She had become part of a unified fighting force of common purpose. As the months passed and the Illidari continued to wage war against The Burning Legion across the face of Outland, she garnered more power and respect. Soon after she was able to count herself among the most elite demon hunters of all the Illidari. And so it was in the Black Temple’s most desperate hour Illidan had dispatched her and the rest of the Illidari to bring him the keystone...the key to the end of the Burning Legion.

And she had failed. Certainly they had recovered the artifact and it had allowed her and her forces to return to the Black Temple. But it was too late. Illidan was dead. And yet the Illidari had just been imprisoned. Why? Perhaps imprisonment was the worse torture. How many years would she spend in the darkness cursing herself? Cursing The Burning Legion. Cursing Maiev Shadowsong and her ignorant wardens. How long would it be before the demon within her drove her to outright madness? Presuming, of course, she wasn’t already there.

Then, after an eternity in the cold darkness where time had no meaning… ...she heard a crack.

Truely? There had been no sound before. Should could hear nothing. Even the whispers of her demon soul were inaudible thoughts and impressions upon her mind.

There it was again...and another...and another…

And then...words…

“Illidari. I’ve spent my entire life as keeper of the wicked…”

Maiev. Would there be no end to Khalysta’s torment? Must she now endure her jailer’s voice as well?

“Thousands of years, my only solace, knowing the world is kept safe from your kind!”

One shot, Khalysta thought to herself, feeling the rage swell within...just one opportunity to strike…to avenge her Lord and Master and to avenge all Illidari... Even as the thought passed through her mind, she felt the demon power within her begin to stir.

She could see Maiev now. Slowly, her spectral sight was coming into some sort of focus as she became slowly aware of herself beginning to draw breath again, slowly becoming aware of her own physical body once more as her spectral sight focused on Maiev’s visage beyond the emerald wall that separated them. Was that really what Maiev was here to do? Awaken Khalysta only to torment her. But...no...there were cracks in the emerald prison that surrounded her. It was then that she saw Maiev draw back her weapon to strike.

“But I would do anything to save Azeroth!”

Khalysta would do the same...had done the same. Perhaps finally Maiev saw the truth as well…

In mere moments came the crash as Khalysta’s prison shattered around her and she found herself falling forward, collapsing onto the floor of the prison as she breathed in the fresh air and felt all her senses awakening rapidly, her demonic power swelled within, her soul demanding vengeance...a vengeance Khalysta was only too happy to unleash.

Maiev walked to a nearby rack of weapons and tossed Khalysta’s own warglaives onto the floor in front of her.

“Even if it means releasing you,” Maiev finished.

A moment of silence hung in the air as Khalysta stopped dead and looked up at her, disbelieving. Had the elf gone mad? Or was she actually trying to side with the Illidari after all this time? If it was the latter Khalysta wasn’t prepared to give her the chance. Not after Illidan’s fall. Khalysta was moments from taking up her twin blades and attacking the warden with a savage vengeance when she felt the entire vault shake. Maiev looked up at the ceiling before speaking.

“The Burning Legion is at our gates. Will you help us, demon hunter?” Maiev asked, almost challengingly. Khalysta could tell Maiev didn’t like this any more than she did.

In the end, Khalysta stayed her blades. Despite all that had been done to them, the Illidari always fought relentlessly against the truth that was the Burning Legion, sacrificing anything and everything, even the love of the people that had once bore them. Khalysta could tell nothing had changed in Maiev’s heart. Had the Legion not come, Khalysta would still be locked away.

But they had come. The Burning Legion was her enemy before all others. The denizens of Azeroth were only her enemy when they foolishly tried to interfere. And in those times she would strike them down just as viciously. But this was not one of those times. There would be time to deal with Maiev and the wardens later on for what they had done, but for now…

“The enemy of my enemy….” came the soft whisper in her mind, and she took up her blades.

“Yes, Warden Shadowsong,” Khalysta said, a hint of contempt dripping into her tone. Nevertheless she nodded “I will help you.”

Star Wars: 1. The Road to Recovery

World of Warcraft 1. Khalysta's Awakening