Tyrande stood on the deserted pavement on the outskirts of Zin Azshari, only a hundred meters from the temple where she had spent many decades of her life, firing arrows at the daemons circling the city over and over again. Her face did not reflect the torment that was in her soul, and she desperately tried not to think about the events taking place around her, but this was impossible. After all, no more than half an hour had passed since the moment the first explosion cut through the silence of the city, and a whole half hour since the former life for her was irretrievably lost.

What has she seen so far? A quiet and native village to her heart, which she had to leave after her friends. The peace and comfort of the temple of Elune, in which evil had no power, and everyone found solace. Conversations with Cenarius, who was kind and attentive to all his students, to everyone, even to those who did not listen to him. This whole beautiful and filled with joy and expectation world died tod