Wrathion whirls around, a snarl of rage in his expression and blood in the air. Blood on the claws of one hand.

For a second, it seems like he'll turn on Anduin too. Like he's out of control, won't even recognise him through the haze.

Then, recognition lights in his eyes.

He stumbles, dumbfounded, and stares at the priest.

"Anduin?"

Is it him? Can it be him? How? He saw him -- saw him leave, leaving him chained outside.

Abandoned. Discarded. He doesn't trust you, he never has.

His anger seems to be well back up, but there's something else in it now. A different energy to it.

"What is this?" he asks, low, hurt. "Is this a game to you, now?"