A night elf clad in Purple robes was pacing through Boralus, he had over the course of the weeks accounted for each of the insignia’s he had identified once the collective had met in Boralus. A relatively simple task, but time consuming for a single magi. All attempts to scry on brother Maeshkin directly were met with interference. It was fairly obvious whoever had abducted him had some working knowledge of the Collective. Had they not they would have never been able to abduct brother Maeshkin in the first place with a small enough force to have traveled through Darkshore and only be seen by one Sentinel. Yes they must be aware of their strengths and weaknesses, this was indeed a disadvantage.
With a swipe of his hand Mirodiil would open a portal letting out a burst of cold air before stepping through out of Boralus and away from prying eyes. With the portal closed behind him Mirodiil set himself down on the floor of a moderately sized icy cavern. It was lined with rows of shelving holding all sorts of ingredients, utensils and supplies used in the mages cooking and lit with low violet arcane light from a flameless lamp affixed to the roof. It was a quiet place and one Mirodiil would come when he needed to be alone. The cold didn’t bother him much any more.
Setting out a mirrored platter in front of him he would trace his fingers over the surface revealing the glow of a hidden arcane inscription. After a moment of repeating an incantation the mirrored surface would reveal what he sought. A tree? yes and an owl’s nest. Judging by the flora and the darkened moon somewhere in Darkshore. Buried in the nest with an egg in it’s mouth was the creature he sought, a blue marsuul that had adopted Brother Maeshkin on their expedition to Argus. Scram it seems was still safe, last time he was in a pantry of one of fallen homes of Lor’danel stuffing his face with molded bread and cheese. Satisfied the creature would survive another night Mirodiil cleared the vision from his platter and began again.
The Darksong had not turned up yet in his attempts, likely obscured by the same source that blocked brother Maeshkin from magical sight, but persistence and patience was needed for this effort. Focusing on the unsettling energy the sword radiated from it’s saronite blade, Mirodiil was a little surprised when on the platter before him appeared a draenei, lightforged even walking down a paved road. They were clearly well armored and bathed in the power of the light as the lightforged were. However this one lacked the normal calmness composure their kind had shown on the vindicator. They more stomped than walked, their chest was pushed out and their hands balled into fists. Yes, something had this one worked up. He memorized the lightforged’s features. Behind him on the path was a Keep overlooking a coastal cliff and further on the horizon a large, easily recognisable port city, Boralus. They had been close this whole time as suspected. Comparing the image to a map of Kul’tiras he was able to identify the keep in the background. Greystone.
This was the lead they needed. Hastily packing up his implements he wiped the image from his platter taking one more good look at the face of the lightforged. They would surely meet and when they did he had to be ready to do what was necessary, for brother Maeshkin.
"Magic is like a fine wine, best used responsibly."