He follows Anduin closely, wariness still colouring his posture, blood still on his clothing and claws. The hot beat of it still anxiously hammering through his veins.

As they emerge out into the light, he finds he isn't certain what to expect. Betrayal, as the priest of the Chained God suggested? Seduction to the Chained God's cause, Anduin having given in to the whispers? A confession?

Wrathion frowns, trying to shake off the fog from the incense, and to sharpen his focus on the man in front of him.

"Anduin?" he prompts, stopping not far from the temple. They could go somewhere more private, but Wrathion isn't certain if that would mean leading himself into a trap. "What is this?"