The sea had grown calm.
Night crept in gently, draping the coast in deep blues and silvers, moonlight scattering across the water like shattered glass. Leylin and Vereesa remained by the shore long after the sun had dipped beneath the horizon, unwilling to break the fragile peace that wrapped around them.
They sat close together on the cool stone, her head resting against his shoulder, fingers clutching the fabric of his sleeve as though anchoring him to the world.
Leylin spoke quietly. He told her everything.
Of Suramar, frozen in twilight beneath an ancient artifact. Of the Nightborne nobles drowning themselves in decadence while demons prowled just beyond their gates. Of Eliones and her ambitions, of Gul'dan and the Tomb of Sargeras, of torn space and drifting islands, of waking alone beneath an unfamiliar sky.
He spoke of battles and shadows, of death narrowly avoided, of time slipping through his fingers without mercy.
Vereesa listened without interrupting.
Sometimes her grip tightened when he spoke of danger. Sometimes her breath hitched when he mentioned moments where he nearly didn't make it back. Tears fell silently more than once, soaking into his shoulder.
"You shouldn't have gone through all of that alone," she whispered.
Leylin turned slightly, pressing his forehead against hers. "I wasn't alone," he said softly. "Not really. You were always here."
Her arms tightened around him instantly.
"Promise me," Vereesa said, voice trembling. "Promise me you won't disappear like that again. Not without telling me. Not without coming back."
Leylin cupped her face gently, thumbs brushing away lingering tears. His gaze was steady and unwavering.
"I promise," he said. "No more vanishing. No more silence. Wherever I go from now on, you'll know. And I'll always come back."
Only then did she finally relax, resting fully against him, as though a knot she had carried for two long years had finally loosened.
When the night air grew cold, they rose together and began the walk back towards Windrunner Estate.
The estate glowed warmly in the distance, lights spilling from the windows, laughter faint but familiar. The sight alone stirred something deep in Leylin's chest, nostalgia, guilt, and longing woven tightly together.
Inside, the Windrunner household was alive with motion.
Alleria was setting plates on the long table, arms full, voice lively as she spoke to Lirath about patrol rotations and supplies.
Sylvanas stood nearby, arms crossed, expression cool as ever, though her ears twitched attentively at every sound. Lirath laughed easily, the tension of the war momentarily forgotten within these walls.
The door opened.
"Vereesa!" Alleria called first, turning with a bright smile. "You're back late—"
Her words cut off mid-sentence. Vereesa stepped inside, then paused and turned back toward the doorway.
Behind her stood Leylin. For a heartbeat. Silence.
The plates slipped from Alleria's hands, shattering loudly against the floor. Sylvanas froze, eyes wide, breath caught somewhere between disbelief and shock. Lirath stared for a second… then broke into a wide, disbelieving grin.
Leylin inclined his head slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"…I'm back."
Alleria moved first.
She crossed the room in a blur, slamming into him with enough force to nearly knock him backward. Her fists pounded weakly against his chest as tears spilled freely.
"You idiot!" she cried. "Do you have any idea what we thought?! You vanished for two years! Two years! I thought—you—"
Her voice broke completely.
Leylin wrapped his arms around her without hesitation, letting her hit him, letting her cry, his hand patting her back gently.
"I know," he said softly. "I'm sorry. I'm alive. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
Her punches turned into sobs, her face buried against his chest as she clung to him fiercely.
Lirath joined them next, laughing as he pulled Leylin into a crushing embrace. "You really have terrible timing, brother," he said warmly. "But damn am I glad to see you alive."
Sylvanas stood where she was, eyes sharp, unreadable. Then she turned away with a huff.
"…You're late," she said coolly. "And you owe us explanations."
But the slight curve at the corner of her lips and the way her shoulders finally relaxed betrayed her relief.
Dinner that night stretched long into the hours.
They gathered around the table, warmth filling the room as Leylin spoke once more, this time to all of them. He described Suramar, the Nightborne, their arcane dependence, their isolation, their looming fracture. He spoke of ancient elves preserved in time, of a city untouched by sun, of politics as dangerous as any battlefield.
Alleria leaned forward, fascinated. "An entire elven civilization hidden away for ten thousand years?"
Sylvanas's eyes gleamed thoughtfully. "And demons at their doorstep… yet they feast?"
Lirath shook his head. "Sounds unstable."
Leylin nodded. "It is. And it's going to break soon."
Questions came rapidly and relentlessly, and Leylin answered them all patiently, honestly until the fire burned low and exhaustion finally claimed them.
As the night deepened, and laughter slowly replaced tension, Leylin looked around the table. For the first time in a very long while he was home.
—
Time slowed. After storms of war, demons, and shattered timelines, the days that followed felt unreal in their simplicity. Leylin remained in Quel'Thalas, no longer as a traveler passing through history, but as a man reclaiming something precious that had nearly slipped from his grasp.
He spent most of his mornings with Vereesa.
They walked the forest paths near Windrunner Village, the silver leaves whispering softly overhead. Sometimes they spoke of nothing at all, just the warmth of each other's presence, hands brushing, shoulders touching. Other times Vereesa would ask about distant lands, about magic beyond the Sunwell, about the places he had seen and the dangers he had faced.
And sometimes she would simply hold his arm a little tighter, as if afraid that if she loosened her grip, he might vanish again.
Leylin never pulled away.
When Alleria was present, things were… different.
She laughed as freely as ever, her confidence undiminished, her presence commanding as the eldest Windrunner always had been. She trained with Sylvanas together with the Farstriders at dawn, sparred with Lirath in the afternoons, and shared stories of distant battlefields by night.
But Leylin noticed it immediately.
She kept her distance.
Where she once stood close, she now lingered a step away. Where her gaze once lingered on him, now it slid aside. When conversation grew too personal, she excused herself with practiced ease.
Alleria Windrunner was not one to flee from danger but guilt was another battlefield entirely.
She believed she had overstepped. She believed she had taken something that belonged to her little sister.
Leylin, however, had no intention of letting that distance remain.
When Alleria attempted to quietly slip away during one afternoon patrol briefing, Leylin followed her without hesitation. He fell into step beside her as if nothing had changed.
"You're avoiding me," he said casually.
Alleria stiffened. "You're imagining things."
He smiled. "You were never good at lying to people who know you."
She stopped walking. For a long moment, she said nothing. Then she exhaled slowly, shoulders sagging just a fraction.
"…Vereesa loves you," she said quietly. "And I won't pretend I didn't see it coming. I should've been more careful."
Leylin turned to face her fully.
"Alleria," he said gently, "you're not taking anything from anyone."
Her eyes flashed with frustration. "You don't understand"
"I do," he interrupted softly. "And I don't care."
That made her freeze.
"I didn't come back from torn space and lost years just to measure affection like territory," Leylin continued. "I care about you. I care about Vereesa. I care about Sylvanas. One does not erase the other."
Alleria looked away, ears tinged faintly red. "…You're infuriating."
He laughed quietly. "I've been told."
Vereesa noticed. She noticed everything.
She noticed how her eldest sister lingered farther from Leylin than before, how her smiles came slower, how she always found reasons to leave when conversations grew warm. And Vereesa, gentle as she was, understood more than Alleria gave her credit for.
One evening, as the three sisters shared a rare quiet moment together, Vereesa suddenly spoke up.
"Sister," she said lightly, though her voice carried unmistakable intent, "you don't need to act like that."
Alleria nearly choked on her drink. "Act like what?"
"Like you're afraid of your own feelings," Vereesa replied calmly.
Sylvanas, seated nearby and sharpening her blades, paused, just for a moment.
Alleria flushed instantly. "Vereesa!"
Vereesa turned to Leylin then, her expression earnest, vulnerable, and brave all at once. "You should treat my eldest sister well," she said seriously. "And Sylvanas too."
The room went silent.
Sylvanas slowly lifted her gaze, one perfectly sculpted brow arching. "…Excuse me?"
Vereesa winced slightly but pressed on. "I… I thought it would be you at first," she admitted softly, glancing at Sylvanas. "But feelings don't always follow plans. Still… you're my sisters."
Alleria stared at her youngest sibling in sheer disbelief. "You— You're just going to say that out loud?!"
Vereesa nodded, cheeks warm but eyes resolute. Alleria turned sharply toward Leylin, mortified. "This is your fault."
Leylin burst out laughing. A real, unrestrained laugh, the kind that shook off years of tension.
"I'll gladly take responsibility for that," he said, smiling at all three of them. "But you're worrying too much."
He stepped forward, his tone gentle but certain.
"I don't love halfway," Leylin said. "And I don't abandon people who matter to me. You don't need to compete. You don't need to retreat. I'll treat you well, all three of you."
Sylvanas scoffed lightly, though there was no real bite in it. "You speak dangerously easily for someone surrounded by Windrunners."
Leylin met her gaze evenly. "Danger has never scared me."
For a moment, Sylvanas said nothing.
Then she smirked. "Hmph."
Alleria covered her face with one hand, groaning. "I can't believe this family."
Vereesa smiled softly, relief blooming in her chest.
For the first time since Leylin's return, the unspoken tension eased—replaced by something fragile, complicated, and undeniably real.
And beneath the eternal skies of Quel'Thalas, the Windrunner household settled into a new, uncertain but honest peace.