The morning after Leylin's meeting with his mentors dawned bright and gentle, sunlight spilling through the eternal spring of Eversong Woods. Dew clung to silver leaves, and the air carried the faint scent of mana and flowers, peaceful, almost deceptively so.
Leylin was halfway through a quiet breakfast when the familiar presence of arcane signatures approached the Windrunner estate.
He looked up just in time to see Tyr'ganal striding in with his usual unrestrained energy, a broad grin plastered across his face, while Aminel followed a step behind.
"By the Sunwell," Tyr'ganal exclaimed loudly, spreading his arms, "you really do enjoy dramatic returns, don't you? Two years gone and you just stroll back in like you were out buying wine."
Leylin stood and laughed, stepping forward. "I didn't expect the welcoming committee to be this loud."
Tyr'ganal clapped a hand on his shoulder, gripping firmly. "It's good to see you alive, brother. Rumors had you dead, lost, or worse—married."
Leylin smirked. "Only one of those is close to the truth."
Behind Tyr'ganal, Aminel stood quietly. She didn't speak. She just looked at him.
Her eyes traced his face as if confirming he was real, uninjured, whole, standing before her. There was no anger in her gaze, no accusation.
Only something deeper. Something restrained. Leylin shifted slightly, suddenly self-conscious.
"…Aminel," he said gently. "It's good to see you."
She nodded once. "You too."
That was all she said.
The silence lingered, heavy but not uncomfortable at least, not for her. Leylin, however, felt a faint tightening in his chest.
"How have you both been?" he asked, partly to break it.
Tyr'ganal laughed again, slinging an arm around Leylin's shoulder. "Same old. After the war, all we ever did was training, patrolling, keeping idiots from blowing themselves up with unfinished spellwork."
"And you?" Leylin asked.
Tyr'ganal raised a brow. "We should be asking you that."
Aminel's gaze flickered briefly at that, but she said nothing. They left the estate soon after, walking beneath the golden canopy of Eversong Woods.
The paths were familiar, winding gently between crystalline streams and glowing flora. Tyr'ganal filled the air with chatter about patrols, about Silvermoon politics, about who had been promoted and who had embarrassed themselves publicly.
Leylin answered where he could, laughed when appropriate, but he noticed how Aminel walked quietly at his side, listening more than speaking.
When she did speak, her voice was soft.
"You've changed," she said at one point, eyes forward.
Leylin considered that. "So I've been told."
"Not just power," she added. "Your presence… it's steadier."
He smiled faintly. "Some journeys force you to grow."
She nodded, accepting that answer.
By the time the sun climbed high and the forest warmed, Tyr'ganal suddenly stretched and yawned dramatically.
"Well," he said loudly, "I suddenly remember I have important things to do. Very important. Urgently elsewhere."
Aminel turned to him. "You do?"
"Absolutely," Tyr'ganal replied, already backing away. He pointed between Leylin and Aminel with a grin. "Don't wait up. And Leylin, try not to disappear again while I'm gone."
Leylin laughed. "No promises."
Tyr'ganal winked at Aminel, then vanished down the path, his footsteps deliberately loud until they faded.
Silence settled in. For a long moment, neither spoke.
The forest hummed softly around them, birds darting between branches, mana flowing unseen beneath the soil.
Finally, Aminel stopped walking. Leylin halted as well, turning toward her.
"You promised," she said quietly.
The words were simple but they struck with surprising weight.
Leylin did not pretend not to understand. "I know."
She drew a slow breath. Her fingers curled slightly at her side. "And yet… you vanished. Two years. Only a letter."
"I didn't expect—"
She raised a hand, stopping him. "I know. That's the worst part. I know you had your reasons."
She finally looked at him fully, eyes shining but steady.
"That doesn't mean it didn't hurt."
Leylin felt something tighten in his chest.
"I never meant to—"
"I'm not accusing you," Aminel said softly. "I just… needed to say it."
She took a step forward, then another.
"I didn't realize what I felt at first," she continued. "You were always there, helping, teaching, laughing with us. It was easy to mistake that for comfort."
Her voice wavered slightly, but she pressed on.
"Then one day, I noticed I was looking for you before anyone else. Listening for your footsteps. Wondering where you were when you weren't around."
She laughed quietly, without humor. "And then you were gone."
Leylin remained silent, giving her space.
"For two years," she said, "every time someone mentioned your name, I wondered if that letter was the last thing you'd ever leave behind."
Her gaze softened. "I know you have Vereesa. I've always known. I never wanted to take anything from her."
She shook her head gently. "But feelings aren't always reasonable."
They stood there, close enough now that Leylin could hear her breathing.
"I don't regret caring," Aminel said. "But I needed you to know… disappearing like that broke something. Even if only a little."
Leylin lowered his head slightly, sincerity clear in his voice.
"I'm sorry," he said. "Not just for leaving—but for not understanding how much it would affect you."
She smiled faintly, sadness and relief mixed together. "I didn't expect anything else."
For a moment, neither moved. Then Aminel stepped back, straightening, as if gathering herself.
"You're back now," she said. "That's what matters."
Leylin met her gaze. "I won't disappear again."
She studied his expression, searching for doubt. Finding none, she nodded.
"Good."
They resumed walking side by side, the forest no longer quite so quiet—but lighter, as if something long-held had finally been released.
And somewhere deeper in Eversong Woods, the echoes of unspoken emotions faded into the hum of mana and leaves, leaving behind understanding if not resolution.
—
Leylin found himself wandering alone beneath the softly glowing canopy of Eversong Woods, his steps slow and unhurried. The familiar paths felt different now not because the forest had changed, but because he had.
Memories surfaced one after another, unbidden. Suramar's arcane spires. The shattered tomb and the greed that consumed Gul'dan. The torn space that flung him across time and distance. The two years were lost without warning.
And now, Quel'Thalas. Home. And the lives he had unknowingly left suspended.
He stopped near a quiet clearing where motes of light drifted lazily in the air. Taking a deep breath, he turned, sensing the presence behind him.
Aminel stood there. She hadn't followed him loudly. She never did.
Leylin looked at her for a long moment, then spoke, his voice low but steady.
"I've thought about everything you said."
Aminel's posture stiffened slightly, her hands clasped together as if bracing herself.
"My promise to you," Leylin continued, meeting her eyes, "I will keep it."
Her breath caught.
For the first time since he'd known her, Aminel's composure cracked completely. Her eyes widened, disbelief flashing across her face.
"Leylin…?" she whispered.
He raised a hand gently, stopping her before hope could run too far ahead.
"Give me some time," he said. "I won't make empty vows, and I won't hurt anyone by rushing an answer I haven't fully weighed."
His gaze was earnest. "But I swear this—I won't forget you, and I won't break my word."
Aminel searched his face, looking for uncertainty, hesitation or anything that might suggest pity instead of sincerity.
She found none.
Slowly, she nodded. "For you," she said softly, "I can wait."
There was no desperation in her voice. Only resolve.
They stood in silence for a while longer, the forest bearing quiet witness, before parting without further words—both understanding that some things needed time to grow, not force.
—
Five days passed swiftly after Leylin's return. They were peaceful days, days he hadn't realized how deeply he had missed.
He spent most of his time with Vereesa, walking with her through Windrunner Village, speaking of trivial things and unspoken fears alike. She clung to him often, as if afraid that if she let go, he would vanish again. Leylin indulged her, holding her close, reassuring her with both words and presence.
Alleria joined them frequently, her sharp wit and teasing remarks filling the air. Though she laughed easily, there were moments, brief and fleeting where her gaze lingered on Leylin longer than it should have. Vereesa noticed. Leylin also noticed.
They all pretended not to. Sylvanas, ever dutiful, was often busy with Farstrider affairs, but whenever she had time, Leylin made sure to spend it with her as well.
Their conversations were quieter, more grounded, discussions of patrol routes, defenses, and the scars the war had left behind. It was during one such gathering that Leylin made a questionable decision.