As if stirring from a lengthy hibernation, Lyrah let out a moo-like grumble as her small-horned head shook off the leafy sheets, squinting into the sunlight that pierced their temporary home in the Moonglade.  The chocolate-furred shaman let out a long sigh as she pushed aside the sheets, exposing her naked torso casually to the warm air.  Her arms stretched above her head, and quickly she realized that her father wasn't by her side.  A half-frown adorned her muzzle, her thoughts turning inward at the... unusual pause their relationship had been at for a while.  There was no doubt in her mind that she loved Drenan with every fiber of her being, and she knew that he felt the same in return, but both of them stood upon a threshold that neither of them had garnered the courage to cross.  Five and a half years had passed since they'd first broken the taboo and began to share a bed, and in that time Drenan had religiously taken his potion to keep the two of them from accidentally bearing children.  Lyrah had brewed so much of the stuff that she knew the recipe by heart, but the past year he'd chosen to stop, hoping it might grant them a bit more strength to follow through with their shared desires... yet each time he neared his finish --sometimes it was at Lyrah's request, sometimes he did it of his own accord-- his seed would simply mat her fur.
	
The mild thrum of frustration settled into Lyrah's mind as she pulled on an ornate, leaf-woven, druidic robe --a gift from Shele and Soren as a token of their appreciation for... well, awakening their own relationship-- and pushed aside a screen of vines to step into the open meadow beyond.  It wasn't uncommon for Drenan to awaken first, but before Lyrah could seek him out, he would often appear out of seemingly nowhere instead.  She had to wonder if there was something he wasn't telling her, but she trusted him enough to know it couldn't be anything serious if there <i>was</i> something.  Still, curiosity got the best of her, and there was one more place in the glade she'd been meaning to try and check in the morning.

A short walk led her down a winding marble path, and soon she found herself at the base of a small temple to Cenarius.  The curvaceous tauren quickly strode up the steps, and lo and behold, her eyes fell upon Drenan himself, kneeling before the shrine with his head bowed.  A look of concern slowly spread across her face, and quietly she stepped up behind him and placed a tender hand on his shoulder.  "Daddy...?"

The world-weary paladin flinched at this, his one-horned head turning to look up at his daughter in shock.  "Lyrah?  How did-"

"I was bound to find you eventually," she said and slowly knelt down beside him.  "What's going on?  Why are you here or all places?"

Drenan's shock melted into a stoic look.  "It is nothing, really, sweetheart.  No need to worry-"

"But I <i>do</i> worry," she insisted and squeezed his shoulder tighter.  "Is something wrong?"

The muscular bull remained quiet for several moments as he contemplated her words.  He, too, wore a similar druidic robe, inherently showing off a few of his smaller scars.  A small streak of gray color had begun to appear at the root of his mane, and it was apparent that there were internal demons he was struggling with as much as she was.  "Lyrah... I have lost my connection to the Light."

This completely put Lyrah off guard.  "What?  How!?"

"I have a few ideas," he rumbled, "But the cause does not matter.  The Light within me has been fading for some time now, truthfully.  I have not been able to cast a proper spell in years, and even back in Thousand Needles I had to resort to utter physicality.  I have been coming to the shrine every morning for a year now.  Part of me hoped I might be able to reach out and-"

"-regain your abilities?" Lyrah finished for him.

But Drenan shook his head.  "And ask for the blessing to overcome my fear.  But this shrine is for the druids, and the Light has forsaken me.  I have heard nothing from any force."

"Daddy..." Lyrah spoke quietly, then slowly wrapped her arms around his shoulders to embrace him as tightly as she could.  Soft sniffles were muffled by Drenan's mane, and Lyrah's shoulders began to shudder in her sadness.

Drenan's arms closed in around her just as quickly, one hand reaching up to stroke her mane as soothingly as he could.  "Shhhhh," he whispered into her ear.  "Do not be sad.  I have not given up, nor do mythical beings steer our fate.  It is what we make of it."

Those last words seemed to pacify Lyrah's sniffles.  "What we make of it...?" she repeated, and with a soft gasp she drew backwards to arm's length, mirroring her azure-eyed stare straight into her father's eyes.  "Daddy... I think that's it!"

It was Drenan's turn to look confused.  "Pardon?  I do not-"

"The Light's no good, nature's no good, and I don't think the elements are gonna do much for us," she reasoned out loud.  "But, you know, Shele's been telling us about all of the Shadowlands stuff going on, right?  It would be quite a trip, for sure, but I think if we ask around, we can sniff her out easily enough!  I mean, she wasn't <i>really</i> a sinner, and I don't think she was a <i>bad</i> person either...."

The ex-paladin's confusion deepened.  "Lyrah, you are speaking nonsense."

"No!" the shaman insisted and threw up one hand, while the other began tracing invisible symbols in the air.  "See, there are, like, five big afterlives, right?  One's for sinners, one's super bad, one's for super-devoted saints (which, as great as she was, I don't think she was destined for that, it just doesn't make sense), so that leaves just two to check, right?"

Drenan's brow furrowed in frustration.  "Lyrah, please, speak plainly.  I do not follow at all."

Lyrah's chest heaved softly as she tried to quell her excitement.  "Dad, I think we need to go have a talk with mom."
