Anduin's expression softens slightly at that, though the frown does not entirely disappear from his face.

Wrathion is right of course, the cogs definitely are turning. Circling around and around the revelation of just how far the disease has spread already. Karsa has given them hope, revealed that not all is entirely lost. And yet...

Anduin glances away, uncertain he can meet Wrathion's gaze as he speaks his next thought. He doesn't particularly enjoy the feeling that accompanies voicing it.

"The Light does not heal the sickness," he explains. "I have already tried -- and failed. The best I can do is minimize their pain, for a time." Anduin chews on the inside of his lip for a moment, before he continues. "The disease has already claimed so many. I -- am worried, Wrathion."