Dolls. Those cursed things. Anduin isn't surprised to hear they're nearby but he could have gone the rest of his life not knowing they were up and about again. He makes his way out of the cage as he grips Wrathion's arm for balance. The sudden rush of blood that accompanies the movement almost makes his head spin and for a few seconds Anduin idly wonders if he's going to pass out before the world suddenly rights itself again.

"I do not know who did this, they did not show their faces in the few times we saw them." Fingers dig deep into Wrathion's arm briefly as Anduin's mind reminds him of the few bits he does remember, of pain, noise, music and so many questions. Oh Gods, he'd told them everything and the guilt is almost overwhelming. They'd worked so hard not to let slip about things and they had pulled that information from Anduin like it was nothing.

Anduin knows he'll have to come to terms with that more than anything. Injuries can heal and hair can grow, but information cannot be taken back and he quickly sends a silent prayer to the Light that those responsible can't do anything with the intel they've gleaned.

"I don't know. But what I do know is that I was not the only one and I fear if those responsible are no longer here then there is nothing to stop them striking again."