by Anthalos This would break my heart if I still had one. The killing of a Night Elf, my enemy, my kin, should evoke something in me. I know I should remember how to grieve for him, but I can’t seem to. The Wretched should move me, for I am so near them in desperation, but they do not. I stand apart from myself and look down upon my deeds as if they were someone else’s and feel nothing. I look down upon this dying Night Elf and I wish I still knew how to mourn.