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All in the Family
NELTHARION WAITED JUST OUTSIDE the temple. Snow began to slowly fall across the
wastes. His black scales covered in a soft white layer of snow. The Great Black looked to the
overcast sky, seeing a shifting color from the Northern Lights shimmering above the clouds. He
shivered slightly, folding his great wings around his body like a wrinkly, leathery, black cloak.
The only sound he could hear was the shifting ice beneath his feet and the soft fall of snow.
It was deathly quiet.
He snorted a thin cloud of steam from his nostrils. Neltharion always felt lie an outsider
coming to Dragonblight and visiting Wyrmrest. His fault entirely, but long ago, it was not
always that way. He was always welcomed in the north in the time of the Ancients, long before
he was tormented by the Voices, before he was driven to Madness, and then into enslavement by
them, feeding his dark desires to create Deathwing, the monster that lived inside of him. He was
stronger to them now. At least that was how he felt. Despite defeating the evils of the world that
were brought about by his sins and gaining their trust, he still felt estranged.
A figure poked out from the top level of the great spire.
“You should come and join us, brother,” called a motherly voice.
“I’m fine down here, Alex,” said Neltharion.
The Life-Binder shook her head and hefted a sigh.
“We need to talk to you,” she said. “And I hate it when you separate yourself from us.
Any Aspect is welcomed. You treat us like strangers.”
“I feel like a stranger,” said the Earth-Warder. Neltharion dragged his claw across the
snow.
“Stop it,” said Alexstrasza. “Come up here. Stand to my right as you used to. I want my
brother beside me, not a frightened stranger lurking outside the walls of Wyrmrest.”
Neltharion rumbled and suddenly vanished. The Black Dragon appeared right beside the
Blood Elf with the fiery red hair. Alexstrasza was in mortal form, finding it more convenient
than her dragon form. All the dragons were disguised in their mortal forms, all but Neltharion,
who decided to remain in dragon form. He shrank himself down, his size was that of a rather
large war horse. Kalecgos, the Spell-Weaver, dipped his head.
“About time you came up,” he said. “You looked almost lost standing out there in the
cold, Earth-Warder.”
He backed away as Neltharion took to Alexstrasza’s right. She placed a hand upon his
shoulder and leaned her head down upon it. Neltharion relaxed and brushed his broad chin on
the crown of her head.
“Just as I remembered,” she said. “Don’t be so distant anymore, brother. I won’t bite.”
“It’s been so long since I felt apart of the group,” said Neltharion, brushing his cheek
against hers. The Great Black gave a small kiss to his sister’s forehead, which made her smile.
He parted, his green eyes focusing upon her golden ones. “I feel like I’m trespassing when I
come here.”
“You are an Aspect, Lord Neltharion,” said Siderion. “As I am welcomed here as your
ambassador, should it not be right for you to be welcomed as well?”
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“You seem at home here, Sid.”
“I am, my lord,” said Siderion.
“Siderion is right,” said Alexstrasza. “You are always welcomed here, Neltharion. Don’t
ever think that you are not. I want you to come here, I get so worried about you.”
“Shouldn’t it be the big brother who worries about the little sister?” Neltharion asked.
“And not the other way around?”
“Perhaps,” she said. “But, with you out there in the world, and the world...the world
rejecting you...so much. At least know that you have a place here.”
“The world rejects me because I once rejected it,” said Neltharion. “This was my fault. I
can’t force them to love me like they did long ago before I betrayed all of them and you. But at
least I have some who are my friends. And having a few friends is better than having no
friends.”
“And you have a family,” said Alexstrasza. She slapped him on his foreleg. “Which you
need to visit from time to time! My consorts say I grow bald from pulling my hair out worrying
what is happening to you out there. My mistake of thinking you should handle the world all on
your own...you should grow to rely on us. Such a heavy burden shouldn’t be carried by one.”
“The world is indeed heavy,” said Kalecgos. “Now I know why Khaz’Goroth made you
so big.”
“He didn’t make me this big,” said Neltharion. “I’m the one who made myself fat, not my
father. I’m too fat for my own scales, I still need big metal plates to hold all the fat in.”
On que, he gave a bang to the line of elementium plates that lined his spine.
“Grew fat on power,” he said. “Grew fat on corruption. And I’m still fat. No amount of
starving is making me any thinner. But at least the swelling isn’t happening anymore. If I got
any fatter, I wouldn’t be able to move.” He turned to Siderion and smiled. “I’m glad you are
happy here. I needed a new ambassador after my old one ran off and decided to make Karazhan
her home. Until she was slain.” Neltharion gave a snort. “Never really like Nalice. Too stuckup.”
“I didn’t really like her either,” said Kalecgos. “And I had to deal with her on more than
one occasion.”
Neltharion rumbled his agreement: “Deathwing chose her, not I. And I only pity the
dragon who had to listen to her.”
“Don’t give me any pity,” said Kalecgos. “I called it endurance.”
“So, that’s why the moons chose you to be the next Aspect of Magic,” said Neltharion, a
grin curling his mouth. “Took a magical trick to deal with Nalice every day without wanting to
strangle her in her sleep.”
“Endurance,” said Kalecgos. “Nothing more. Siderion is at least easier to deal with.
He’s politer.”
“I try my best, Spell-Weaver...”
“Young Spell-Weaver,” corrected Neltharion.
“Still call me a whelpling despite what I am now, Neltharion?” said Kalecgos.
“I didn’t call you a whelp, I called you young,” said Neltharion. “Nothing wrong with
being young. You’re barely ten thousand years old, you’ve had a childhood, you hatched from
an egg. And you had a mother and father who loved you, raised you and made you one of the
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finest dragons ever to grace Azeroth. Calling you young was a compliment. If only I was that
lucky.” He took in a deep breath. “I never hatched out of an egg, only made them. I popped out
of the gola that birthed me a fully grown wyrm, my childhood spent in embryonic fluids,
machines and wires hooked up to every orifice. Probably took days to make me grow from a
little tadpole to a wyrm, after using bits and pieces of Galakrond to make me. Shoved out of a
machine with all the knowledge of the Titans, same for Malygos. Lived 68 thousand years, all as
an adult. So, yes, Kalecgos, you are young.”
“And I was born long after the Earth-Warder became the Worldbreaker,” said Kalecgos.
“And the Oathbreaker.”
“So, you like to remind me,” said Neltharion with a heavy sigh. “So everyone likes to
remind me.”
“Kalecgos,” said Alexstrasza, shooting him a cold glance.
“Forgive me,” said Kalecgos. “Neltharion, I meant nothing...I...just...”
“You hate it when I say ‘Young Spell-Weaver’,” said Neltharion. “As if I cannot give you
the full title because that title alone belongs to my older brother. He died doing his job, and I
nearly died never doing mine.”
“He died because...he wished to never share knowledge with the mortals, because he
feared...” said Alexstrasza.
Neltharion held up a claw: “He died protecting it because he feared what I once feared. I
live among mortals now, I’m married to one. I know their ambitions even more than you, sister.
Those ambitions are dangerous, just like a frightened, rabid dog is dangerous. And they are
afraid, that is why they are what they are. And now is not the time for fear. Now is not the time
for division. There’s a darkness brewing, and this time, I have nothing to do with it’s birth. The
world needs to be united, not divided. And the war the mortals are fighting will tear this world
apart more than I ever could.”
“And how is your mortal wife?” asked Alexstrasza, shifting the topic when she noticed
how stern her brother’s face became.
“Busy,” said Neltharion. “Busy snooping around in cities to see what her enemies are up
to, fighting the king’s war, a war I cannot fight.”
“A war you want to fight,” said Alexstrasza.
“I do not like Garrosh,” said Neltharion. “And being married to an assassin and a spy, I
begin to realize what he’s been doing. For that, I curse my neutrality. This war he wants to fight
could be a danger that we have to face. I know I have to face it. Garrosh has the fury of
Gul’dan’s old Hoard, the expendable foot soldiers of the Burning Legion. They came here under
the orders of their demon masters. Though I don’t fight the war, doesn’t mean I don’t defend my
home when Hoard warriors come knocking down the gates of Theramore. That little island city
is all alone in a sea of enemies. Innocents are going to be harmed, and I must protect those
innocents. I protect those who cannot fight.”
“My brother the hero,” said Alexstrasza. “Just like it was long ago.” She took in a deep
breath. “Let’s just get on with our meeting shall we? We’ve wasted enough time already
bickering.”
Neltharion took in a deep breath. He once more focused upon Siderion. Just like many
black dragons, Siderion preferred to wear a human form as his disguise. His thick black hair was
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feathered. Neltharion noticed he had cut the ponytail off. He was also more clothed, wearing a
black fur cloak draping over his shoulders. Black dragons were not fans of the cold, preferring
the heat of jungles, steamy swamps, and the innards of a sweltering volcano. Thankfully, there
was a jungle not far from Dragonlight, created unnaturally by the Titans long ago. Neltharion
heard that Siderion and some of his siblings had made their home there. Though being black
dragons, they carried the stigma of their more evil brethren. Alexstrasza personally vouched for
them to the mortals who shared the jungle. Neltharion had five black dragons loyal to him now
on Azeroth. The others were either slain or exiled to Outland. Among the five dragons was a
female, the sister to Siderion, named Nameria. It was because of Nameria that Neltharion was
there. Nameria had offered to become broodmother for the newly purified Black Dragonflight.
She offered herself to the Black Aspect.
Nameria was there in human form. Her black hair touched her shoulders. She was
dressed in black, dark red, and brown robes and a heavy velvet cloak and hood. Neltharion
stared at her with uncertainty. She was lovely, but too young for his tastes, at least where
dragons stand.
And she was no Sintharia.
Nor was she Calia.
Calia was human, his wife and Prime Consort. But she could not give him a flight, only
love and companionship. If it was just that, Neltharion would be happy. He would let the
younger black dragons give him a flight and not worry about breeding again. But he was the
Aspect and they all knew that the Aspect could produce stronger dragons than the regular ones.
Neltharion had to breed whether he wanted to or not.
“I present my sister, my lord,” said Siderion with pride. Nameria gave a pert curtsy to the
Great Black.
“I read her spirit, Neltharion,” said Alexstrasza. “Not a drop of darkness or corruption in
her. Like the others, she has fought the Old Gods too. Your song cures them.”
“If they all wish to hear the song,” said Kalecgos. “Then they all would be cured. But
they must want to hear it, otherwise they are lost to the madness.”
“I will not force anyone to do anything against their will,” said Neltharion, shaking his
head. “Deathwing did that and I wish to separate myself from his ways as much as I can. But let
whatever consequences befall my ill-be-gotten children if they so wish to continue Deathwing’s
treachery.”
Alexstrasza leaned upon her brother’s shoulder: “I approve of her, my brother. She will
make a fine consort for you. And she will give you many strong hatchlings.”
Neltharion’s face grew dark and he lowered his head. He shifted uncomfortably. Then,
he focused upon the young black dragon staring into her dark eyes.
“Nameria,” he began. “I have chosen my Prime Consort. Her name is Calia Hastings, but
she was once known as Calia Menethil, daughter to King Terenas, and sister to Arthas, the Lich
King. Do you have any issues with her being human or any issues with her lineage?”
“I have heard of your human Prime, my lord,” said Nameria. “No. Who you chose as
Prime is not my say. I will not argue with your choice.”
“Good enough,” said Neltharion, taking her reply in stride. “But Calia might. Humans
practice monogamy. To her, I belong mind, body and soul, and to no one else. Those were the
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vows I made standing before the bishop that day nearly 20 years ago, and I aim to keep those
vows. But Calia knows that she cannot give me dragons to rebuild my flight. She knows I must
mate with another of my kind to ensure my flight’s future, but there is some jealousy in her.
Though she knows Siderion, and likes him, I would suspect she would like his sister. But I think
before I mate with you, Nameria, my wife should stand here and give her approval as well. Any
problems with this, sister?”
“If Calia wishes to inspect my choice,” began Alexstrasza. “Then she has her right. She
is your Prime after all.”
“Thank you, sister,” said Neltharion, heaving a relaxed sigh.
“Oh, Neltharion,” said Alexstrasza. “I would never do anything that would drive the two
of you apart. I feel the love between you and Calia and how much it heals you, my brother. I
think that song the blacks talk about is the love you feel for her.” She paused and licked her lips
and Neltharion could see the wetness welling up in her eyes. “Love I shared once with
Korialstrasz.”
Neltharion felt a slight pain in his chest when she mentioned Korialstrasz. The lover and
Prime Consort to the Life-Binder and sacrificed himself to prevent the spread of infected
Chromatic eggs from corrupting her eggs. Krasus’ death was Neltharion’s doing as he was the
one who ordered Nalice to infect them. Krasus had intern became infected as well, but before he
was completely changed, he destroyed the Crimson Sanctuary in a burst of energy. Neltharion,
who could sense the deepest thoughts and emotions, felt the hole still inside his sister’s heart.
His head lowered and his thick, scaly lips drew a sharp line. Neltharion’s eyes became
downcast. He could feel the sting of tears filling his emerald eyes.
“I am sorry for what I did to your love, my sister,” he said softly, fighting back a deep
sob. “I would only think out of vengeance, you would try to destroy mine...”
“I am...not Deathwing,” said Alexstrasza. “Though, it hardened my heart when
you...I...can forgive...”
“But cannot forget,” said Neltharion. “My betrayal was a shock to all. How could I do
such things? To you especially? Those monsters that possessed me...it’s so easy to blame them,
when it was me who did it. I take responsibility for his death, Alex. If now you wish to punish
me...” He backed away from her and knelt down. “I await any judgement you have...”
“I’m not going to punish you, brother,” said Alexstrasza. “Just like I shouldn’t have done
so to Malygos. Talk, that was all we needed. Talk. I think you and I need to talk.”
She left the circle of dragons and began to walk out onto the ledge of Wyrmrest.
“This meeting is over,” she said. “I will speak to my brother alone.” She looked over her
shoulder and smiled at Neltharion. “Meet me in the Ruby Dragonshrine, Neltharion.”
Neltharion took in a deep breath as he watched the guised dragon disappear. She
reappeared once more in her full form, crimson wings flapping in the chill. The Life-Binder took
off towards the massive ruby tree growing out of an icy gorge.
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Brother and Sister
NELTHARION LANDED AT THE GATE to the Ruby Dragonshrine. He folded his massive
wings across his back, allowing to drape over his sides. The metal armor that lined the leaning
edge of his wings scraped the snow as he slowly entered the shrine. Here, it was always spring,
the massive ruby tree grew high and strong in the magical warmth. His feet touched the green
grass that melted the snow the closer he came to the tree. There was a warmth of life all around
the shrine despite it being the graveyard for the Red Dragonflight. Corpses of red dragons
littered the grassy gorge, preserved perfectly. Neltharion found Alexstrasza planting seeds of the
tree next to the corpses. Vines shot out from underground and folded themselves around the
bodies only to drag them under. The Great Red turned to her brother and gave a small smile.
She lifted a claw to him and he slowly lumbered towards her, stepping lightly over the saplings
around the ground. Neltharion paused and took her claw into his.
“I have missed my brother,” said the Life Queen. “I know these past months, are
relationship hasn’t been well.”
“The past ten thousand years, our relationship hasn’t been well,” said Neltharion. His
head lowered. “My...”
“Don’t,” said Alexstrasza. “Don’t lay the blame entirely on you. I remember what you
said to me when I locked you up in your own shrine. The blame comes to me as well.” She
looked up to the crimson leaves of the tree. The mist around the tree bathed the shrine in a soft
red glow. “You were right. I just did not see it then. We need to have a talk, Neltharion. Just
you and I. It has been too long since we actually talked..without you wanting to kill me...”
“Or you saying you will end me like you did Malygos,” said Neltharion. His brow
cocked up at her.
“Neltharion...” she said, shifting slightly.
“He was only doing his job, Alex,” said the Earth-Warder. “And you ordered his death.”
“He killed innocents,” said Alexstrasza.
“They were not,” said Neltharion. “He feared the Kirin Tor would become reckless with
power and with good reason. He was only doing what he was made to do. I hurt innocents as
well, but I did it because I rejected my position. I didn’t do my job. That’s why we have wars,
that’s why the mortals fight. I am to blame for that.”
She took in another breath and wagged her head.
“And I protect life,” she said. “My job is to protect it and nurture it. Anything that
threatens it, I have to take a stand against...regardless to reasons.”
Neltharion shook his head, the braids bouncing on his chest. The sound of his
elementium spine plates clanked behind him.
“You are more than protector of life, my sister,” he said. “Something I’ve noticed you’ve
failed to realize. You must also guard the dead. Death is a part of life. Death is the equalizer.
For without death, there is no life.” He looked around and licked his lips. “Things are born, they
live, and then they die...” Neltharion touched the ground. Alexstrasza watched as her brother’s
paw phased through the ground as if it held no substance. Then, he pulled it out, holding a black
rock in his his paw. Neltharion held the rock up to his sister. “This is coal. Coal is made from
peat, which was once the remains of plants. Plants died and after years of pressure and heat, they
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became coal.” Then he clasped his other paw over the coal and pressed hard upon it. Heat and
pressure cracked the coal. And then, he opened his claw again, and smiled. In his paw was a
diamond. “More and more heat and more and more pressure turns the lump of coal into a
dazzling diamond. Interesting what a few dead plants can do?” He lowered the diamond to the
ground. “The ground you walk on was made from death. Life dies and renews the dirt. It
metamorphosis into rocks and the lower it becomes, the hotter it gets. Then, it reaches the
mantle. The mantle as it moves the crust of our world around sinks in, turning the hot rock into
molten soup, taking with it the precious dead, decomposed masses with it. When it sinks,
volcanos form, pushing up through the crust to erupt in a violent explosion of hot rock and gases!
And that gas build the air we breathe and the fresh molten rock renews the lands. Some of the
most fertile places come from volcanic eruptions. My shrine for one, it does exactly what it is
supposed to do. The gases the volcanoes explode out condense and become the clouds and rain
to build the sea, which helps life to flourish. It’s a cycle, Alex. And so long as these forces
remain in check, our world will thrive.” He came closer to her. “That is why you, I, and Ysera
are so close. We are that triangle that keeps these forces in check. We can’t survive without one
another. Life, nature, and the world it grows upon. I must keep the primal forces of this planet
in perfect balance. That is my job. Yours is to keep the balance of life and death. One cannot
over power the other.”
“It is almost an irony that I am called the Life-Binder if I deal in death as well,” said
Alexstrasza.
She leaned upon her haunches and opened her forelegs to her brother. Neltharion moved
closer to Alexstrasza and wrapped his forelegs around her in a strong embrace. Tears streamed
down their eyes.
“I missed my brother so much,” she said. “To finally hear that you understand why you
were made, I know I have you back now.” Her older brother nuzzled her with his snout against
her neck. His great wings folded around her. It had been too long since her brother had hugged
her like this. She could feel the slick, soft, black beard tickle her nose as he laid his chin upon
her crown.
“Neltharion,” she began, her voice laced with a sob. “I never wanted to lose you or
Malygos. But at least I was able to save one if I could not save both. I am so sorry!”
“You never lost me,” said Neltharion. “I lost myself.”
He leaned away from her, kissing her forehead the way a brother would. His ebony claw
wiped the tears from her ruby cheeks.
“I just wish you wouldn’t be so distant,” said Alexstrasza. “I don’t want to push you
away. You were distant before you became Deathwing. And it–scares me that you might...I just
don’t think I can handle another fall. I relied on you, brother. I was hurt when you struck against
us.”
Neltharion held her claw gently in his: “If I fall, catch me this time. I will rely on you for
that, sister.”
The Great Black took in a deep breath and sighed, a puff of black smoke escaped his
nostrils.
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“Sometimes, Alex, I wish...I wish I could turn back the clock. Correct every sin I did.
Stop myself...” He peered down at her. “If given the chance, knowing what you know now, if
you could go back, would you stop me?”
“I–I can’t answer that, Nel,” said Alexstrasza. “I know what has happened should not be
changed...”
“Krasus once saw me as an evil greater than the demons of the Burning Legion,” said
Neltharion. “If we could change it, then lives would have been spared. I’m not thinking of
myself, I took so many lives, destroyed them. If I had not been thrown into madness, then lives
would have been spared. Just to have the chance...”
“Speak no more of this, Neltharion,” said Alexstrasza.
“Alex,” he began. “Krasus would still be alive if I hadn’t turned evil...”
“No,” she said with a shake of her head. She tore herself from him. “I will hear no more.
What has been is done. You’re not evil anymore. I have my brother back and the world has its
Warder. That’s what matters. Learn from your mistakes. We will build a better future because
of them.”
“But,” he protested. “I...”
“No!” called Alexstrasza, her eyes flashing. Neltharion shrank back. “Nozdormu said it
was meat to be. Why change what was meant to be?”
Neltharion sighed, shaking his head.
“I just want to correct the biggest mistake I have ever done,” he said. “To make it right
again.”
Alexstrasza leaned into her brother’s shoulder.
“By being here, you are making it right,” she said. “I love you, big brother, even when
you made such mistakes, I love you. And that’s what you need to hear as well. And I need to let
go of the past. I don’t want to lose you again.”
“I love you too, sweet sister,” said Neltharion. He joined his deep purr with hers and they
embraced again. They stood there, his wings enveloping his sister, keeping her warm and safe.
Alexstrasza lifted her paw to the back of his neck, running it down along the metallic, bolted
plates.
“I can still heal you,” she said. “And take off the armor.”
“Leave them,” he said. “I don’t mind them. It remains as a reminder not to become
Deathwing ever again. You said I shouldn’t change the past, I don’t want to change what the past
has done to me. Besides, Calia said she likes me plump.”
Alexstrasza laughed.
“You have to make sure you please her then,” she said. “You don’t look all that bad
plump. At least you don’t look like you’re falling apart anymore. I couldn’t stand seeing you
like that. The plump look I can handle.”
She took in a deep breath and they parted again.
“Come on,” began the Life-Binder. “Let’s return to Wyrmrest, Neltharion.”
“You go on ahead,” he began. “I wish to pay my respects to your fallen mate. It was my
fault he died and I never...never got a chance to...”
“I understand, my brother,” said Alexstrasza. “Don’t take too long. I want you beside me
at the temple just in case we have visitors seeking our wisdom. It would be an excellent treat for
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them to receive the
great wisdom of the
Earth-Warder and it
will show them that
you are not Deathwing
anymore.”
“That would
be a treat,” said
Neltharion, his mouth
curling into a smile.
“It’s been a long while
since I’ve given my
wisdom to mortals
formally, though I
have done it
informally...at the
local tavern in
Theramore.”
“The only wisdom you’d probably share in that setting is whatever alcoholic induced
hallucination you’d had that day,” said Alexstrasza.
“It’s been a while since I’ve gotten that drunk,” said Neltharion. “Don’t worry, I’ll be
there. Just...give me a moment...”
Alexstrasza dipped her head and took off, flying powerfully back towards the temple.
Neltharion sighed as he turned to face the enormous crimson tree in the center of the shrine.
Looking up, he saw the muted sun peaking through the leaves.
“Krasus,” he began. “I wish...I wish I could bring you back to her. She misses you so
much. How dare I tear you away from her, murdering you. I am so sorry, Krasus. You were my
friend once and I abandoned you, betrayed you, like I did all the others. I took you away from
her.” His head lowered and his eyes focused upon the trunk. “The Dragon Soul, this is all the
Dragon Soul’s fault. If only I had not created that damnable thing. If only...” Neltharion’s voice
trailed off as he stared deeply at the tree. For an instant, he thought he could see the Blood Elf
form of Krasus standing at the base of the tree. More like it was a figment of his memory
recalling what Krasus looked like. As almost a recollection upon a past event, he saw Krasus
sitting upon the back of...Korialstrasz, Krasus in dragon form. As the vision played out, he saw
Alexstrasza there, and Ysera, with her eyes closed. And then there was Malygos. But standing
beside Malygos was a black dragon, slightly larger than most of them in the room, but slender,
stately, elegant, with a spine of glowing purple crystals running along his back and a braided
beard. The black dragon was Neltharion’s younger self from the War of the Ancients.
Neltharion blinked and his heart thumped hard in his chest. “The Well of Eternity...you...you
were there!” His mind began to play out the scene. Krasus, in the form of a Blood Elf, back
when Blood Elves did not exist yet. Their eyes focused upon each other and Krasus saw the
building madness. “You were there...there were two of you!” His mind began to recall what
transpired afterwards.
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“You know me,” Neltharion recalled himself projecting into Krasus’ mind. “But I do not
know you.”
He knew me alright, thought Neltharion. He knew Deathwing.
“You would speak against me...make the others see me as you do...you would have them
distrust their brother...You will not be allowed to spread your lies!”
And then with that final thought, Neltharion had cast a geas upon Krasus, preventing the
red dragon from speaking a word about the Earth-Warder’s plans. Neltharion lowered to the
ground, his lip trembling, finally awakening from his memories. He clinched his teeth tight.
“You had the opportunity to stop me then,” he said. “You went back in time, but why?
How? You could have stopped me. You wanted to stop me. And now I want to stop myself.”
Neltharion deflated and sighed. A tear ran down his cheek.
“No, I can’t,” he said. “It all happened for a reason. I mustn’t alter time, no matter how
much I know that maybe good would come from it. But the thought of saving Sintharia,
Nefarian, Onyxia, and you as well...to keep Alexstrasza from becoming a slave to the
Dragonmaw Clan, to save Malygos from his madness, not to destroy so many lives. I would, oh,
how I would. I was wrong, Krasus, wrong for putting that spell on you, wrong for a lot of things.
You were right, not to trust me and I would have done something if it weren’t for the demon
controlling me. I am sorry, Krasus, and all I want is your forgiveness. Nothing more.”
As if in response, a light wind blew across his body, picking up locks of his beard.
Neltharion looked up at the sun peeping through the leaves. Then, a gray cloud slowly obscured
the brilliant rays. It seemed he had been dismissed. The Earth-Warder took in a deep breath and
slowly walked out the gate. Once he came outside, the Great Black spread his wings and took
off for Wyrmrest. As he flew over the icy wasteland, Neltharion caught the glimmer of gold
coming from the Bronze Dragonshrine. The gold light flashed brilliantly in his eyes.
“What is that?” he whispered. Neltharion banked off towards the shrine. As he landed,
he settled just beyond the rocky crevice. t the center was a large, sandy desert and many
fluctuations of light. Bones of dead bronze dragons lined the rim of the desert. Nozdormu was
not present as he usually was. Neltharion shuffled closer as silently as a gigantic black dragon
could. At the center of the desert was a swirl of gold. The ripple ungulate as an ashy claw
pushed through. Neltharion’s eyes grew wide to see a dragon come through the rift. He backed
away from the gate. The strange dragon was the color of ash with pale blue lights crackling up
and down its form. The dragon appeared to phase in and out of reality. Neltharion ducked
behind the rocky ledge.
“The Earth-Warder hiding behind a rock,” called the dragon. “Amusing.”
Neltharion poked his head out from behind the ledge.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“I am Chronomus,” said the dragon.
“You’re one of the Infinite Dragonflight,” began the Earth-Warder. “You...were once a
bronze dragon...one of Nozdormu’s...”
“You know what will befall him,” said Chronomus. “That you cannot prevent. We need
him. We are building for a better future, a future that is not the bleak horror we have foreseen.”
“I...don’t want my older brother to follow my...actions,” said Neltharion.
11
“He won’t follow your actions, Deathwing,” said Chronomus with a smile. “We are not
going to destroy the world, we are saving it! But, in a way, didn’t you believe you were saving
the world as well...when you became Deathwing?”
“I was an idiot!” said Neltharion. “What world was I saving by becoming him?”
“None,” said the infinite dragon. “We’ve been watching you. You want to know how
Krasus went back to the War of Ancients? Through us, though we had no plan on him or his
human companion to follow us. But we do have a plan for you, Earth-Warder.”
“Look,” Neltharion said with a dismissive claw. “Whatever you have to offer, I don’t
want it.” He began to back away from the shrine, turning away from the infinite dragon. “I
should be reporting you to Chronormu.”
“If you do, then you would never have the chance to follow Krasus, or to stop yourself
from betraying the others, or even stop the construction of the Dragon Soul.”
Neltharion stopped dead in his tracks. He swallowed dryly.
“Think of the lives you would save, Earth-Warder,” said Chronomus. “The world would
never having to suffer the plight of Deathwing’s evil, or ever knowing of him. Your Sintharia
would still be alive and she would love you, not hate you! And you would have your other
consorts as well for no mating would kill them. Onyxia and Nefarian would not have their heads
on trophy posts. Calia would never have known the pain of Deathwing’s rape. Malygos would
be there beside you, brother and brother, like it was before.”
Neltharion shook his head, turning away again. He did not want to hear anymore. The
infinite dragon moved closer, peering up at him. He reached out with a claw to touch the line of
elementium plates on the Black Dragon’s tail.
“You would not be so marred,” he said. “Your form would be perfect again. Slender and
nimble, not bloated and clumsy. The fiery core that boils under your scales will be sealed away.”
Neltharion began to breathe heavily. He fought back a sob as it tickled his throat.
“I could ask Alexstrasza to heal me any time I wanted,” he said in defiance.
“Can she make you slender again?” asked Chronomus. “You are a swollen, bloated
behemoth, Earth-Warder. And no amount of fasting can fix it. But if that does not please you,
then there is another. The continent. Whether you deny it or not, your Dragon Soul split it apart!
The world is the way it is because of you. If the others are not your greatest evils, then this
surely is.”
Neltharion perked his lips, his eyes darkening.
“Do you not think it is right for the planet to remain sundered?” the infinite dragon asked.
“When you caused it?”
Neltharion sighed: “No.” He turned back to Chronomus. “I look to the east from
Theramore, seeing the cloud bank on the horizon...I see that typhoon I created. I hear stories of
ships attempting to go near it, only be taken by the waves. And I have not the power to stop it.”
“Why stop it now when the storm is out of control?” asked Chronomus. “When you can
stop it before it happens?”
“I’m not supposed to fiddle with what was written,” said Neltharion. “Nozdormu
would...”
“Who do you think sent me here but your brother Nozdormu?’ asked Chronomus.
12
“When he’s taken by his own madness,” said Neltharion. “Murozond, that’s what he calls
himself in your time. Like I called myself Deathwing, when he abandoned his ward, he changed
his name!”
“Is it madness to build a brighter future, or is he taken by the desire to save all he loves?”
asked Chronomus. “Even Nozdormu found out he needed to make sacrifices, which is why he
became Murozond. But he does not want you to become Deathwing. He told you himself, he
knew of your fate, beginning to end. He knew, and as Nozdormu, he refused to stop it. But now
as Murozond, he wants to give you the chance to stop it yourself! Do what he failed to do! Stop
yourself from becoming Deathwing! Stop the Sundering, Neltharion. He is offering you this
chance. As the humans say...” a dark grin appearing upon the dragon’s lips. “...Don’t look a gift
horse in the mouth...”
Neltharion’s eyes narrowed at the infinite dragon: “Who were you before you
became...that?”
“Chronormu,” replied the dragon.
“Chromie...” said Neltharion, lowering his head. “Not you too...” Then he paused. “Wait,
that means you were really a guy...who dresses as a female gnome...and now you’re an infinite
dragon....gnome drag-queen.”
Chronomus chuckled: “Funny how time changes people.” He looked beyond the wall.
“We don’t have much time, Neltharion. My past self will be here with the other Aspects. Do
you wish to change your history or not?”
“I...I don’t know...”
“Your brother wants you to have this gift,” said Chronomus, his crackling face softened.
The infinite dragon almost looked sincere. “Because you are my friend, I want you to have it
too.”
Neltharion glanced behind his shoulder, seeing the shadowy forms of dragons flying
swiftly towards them.
“Hurry!” shouted Chronomus. “Come with me, into the portal!”
“Just this once,” said Neltharion. “To see myself as I was...and what I will become. And
stopping it. Fine. I’ll go.”
He slowly entered the Bronze Dragonshrine, moving for the shimmering portal. Behind
him, he heard the others land.
“Neltharion, no!” called Alexstrasza.
“What are you doing?” asked Kalecgos.
“Oh dear...” he heard the familiar voice of Chronormu. “Is that...me? Neltharion, don’t!”
Chronomus took one glance back at himself as he was and then stepped through the time
portal. Neltharion rumbled and joined him, stepping through as well. The portal vanished
behind him.
“Oh no,” said Alexstrasza. “Chromie, go get Nozdormu!”
“Nozdormu...Murozond...he was the one who sent...me...” said the small bronze dragon.
“Fine. I’ll go get Nozdormu. I swear, sometimes, this whole time travel thing just gives me a
headache.”
13
Gotta Get Back in Time
HE AWOKE WITH A SPLITTING headache. Neltharion laid upon a vale of grass. He
moaned, rolling over. His claw touched the ground. It felt different, younger. His eyes opened
up as he felt the vibrations within the ground. He extended his ears out to the land, and allowed
his sonic sight to fill his mind. Gray vibrations coupled with flashes of white light and dark
where no sound could phase through, he got the topography of the land.
No, it was the world.
Through the sonic sight, waves of sound echoed their reply back to him. Neltharion saw
the shape of the world, and the continent in which he was laying upon. The continent was
massive, whole, perfect.
“Kalimdor!” he breathed. “Old Kalimdor!”
“That’s right,” said a voice behind him, sending a tremor through his vision. Neltharion
backed up from the ground and turned around to find the infinite dragon standing behind him.
Chronomus smiled.
“Those ears of yours are really good,” said Chronomus. “Though it isn’t what you hear,
rather what you feel. Isn’t it? That’s where you get that special sight of yours from. So, you can
see the continent, what it looks like, just by touching the ground?”
“I can see everything, the topography of the land, the depths of the seafloor,” said
Neltharion. “And as long as I stand on land, I can see in all directions through vibrations coming
from the rock. Flying through air will blind the Sight, and water only makes the Sight fuzzy.”
“Three hundred and sixty degree sight,” said the infinite dragon. “That is a cool ability.
Did Khaz’Goroth have that too? So, can you see where you are?”
“I...” began Neltharion. He touched the ground with his paw again. “There is a small
Night Elf village over that ridge.”
“No, not you...you...your past self,” said Chronomus.
“Oh,” said Neltharion. He leaned up and cracked his neck. Then, firmly planted,
Neltharion slammed his black fist into the ground in a rhythmic pattern. Chronomus felt the
ground itself began to vibrate beneath his feet. He leaned down and planted an ear to the ground,
hearing a strange tone coming from the depths as Neltharion continued to send his thrum of
seismic vibrations deep into the bedrock below. Then, he stopped and the vibrations became like
echoes through the rock, bouncing off of harder stone and going through softer stone. The Black
Aspect planted his paw down, feeling the echoes of his tone reverberating off of the deeper
strata. Then, the vibrations came back to him and the ground jostled. It was like the beat of a
massive heart. Neltharion rumbled and leaned up.
“We better take to the air,” he said, looking back down at the smaller infinite dragon.
“He...I...my past self won’t see us if we take to the air.”
“So, where is he?” asked Chronomus.
“Seven miles below us,” said Neltharion. “Now, I remember, before I was Deathwing, I
built vast caverns below, working with the Earthen to shape the landscape. But they had to be
deep so they can go under the seabed as well. And the deeper we got, the hotter it was. We
moved the crust, shoving plates together, raising mountains, spreading apart the seafloor at
diversionary zones. It all begins in the sea. Any earthquake you’d feel were the growing pains
14
we inflicted upon the crust to create the mountains according to Khaz’Goroth’s worldly plans.”
He took in a deep breath. “But he’s not building any mountains or laying any valleys, or
spreading the seafloor, he’s...I can sense it...”
“The Dragon Soul?”
“He’s got those damned goblins down there building that horrible thing,” he said. “And I
hear a cry...wait...it stopped...something crying out in agony, and then stopped...” He moved his
claw around on the ground. “And...the Dragon Soul being used.”
“This is not the time when
the Dragon Soul had all the
power of the other dragons,” said
Chronomus. “Why would you
use it?”
“ To t e s t i t , ” s a i d
Neltharion. “I remember using it
on a Man’ari Eredar. I wanted to
know if the energies could very
well destroy the creature as well
as seal its power inside. It was...a
success. I suppose I’m doing it
right now...”
“Well, then this will be a
good time to strike,” said
Chronomus. “And I shall leave
you to it.”
Neltharion looked back as
he saw the golden portal open up
and the infinite dragon beginning
to step through.
“Wait!” he called. “Wait,
what...how am I supposed to get
back when I’m done?”
“Oh, you’re not,” said
Chronomus. “Don’t you know
anything about time, EarthWarder? Once you change the
past and destroy your creation,
there by freeing yourself from its thrall, you...as you are now...will cease to exist. So, there’s no
going back for you. You are stuck here, until you do the job. And you better hurry, you have one
month before the Sundering happens, before you reveal your treachery and weld your first set of
armor on you. And you want to stop yourself before you start swelling up like a fiery balloon,
right?”
“Uh...” Neltharion paused, scratching his head. “I...”
15
“Of course you do!” said Chronomus. “So, get to it. Trust me, all that has happened to
you, or will happen, will be erased. Including you as you are. You can’t exist when there is no
time line for you to exist in.” He turned back around and phased through the portal. Neltharion
rushed after him, but the portal closed swiftly.
“No!” Neltharion bellowed. “Wait...wait...I changed my mind! Wait...Chromie! Titans
damn it!” He leaned back, looking at the dark surroundings of the grassy vale. Primordial
Azeroth, a month before the Sundering. His heart pounded. “Oh...fuck.” The Earth-Warder fell
back to his back and swallowed. “I’m trapped here. I’m–trapped ten thousand years in the past,
and the Burning Legion is invading, my past self is making the Dragon Soul, and I’m trapped
here. I’m trapped here, in the past with no way home, no way of seeing Calia again...no...way
of...oh...nice going, Neltharion, you thick-headed, boyscout!” He swallowed. “Save lives, stop
yourself from becoming Deathwing, destroy the Dragon Soul, and then what? Cease to exist!
Because the Neltharion who would have become you won’t. All because you wanted stop
yourself from...becoming Deathwing. And follow a crazy infinite Chromie through the time
portal. Brilliant. Alexstrasza, remind me, if I ever get home, remind me to tell you to give me a
good slap across the face for good measure for ever listening to my heart.” He rose up off of his
back and gave a flap to his wings. “I am doing this for the good of the world. Kalimdor won’t be
destroyed...I won’t become Deathwing...ever...maybe I can tell Queen Aszhara not to turn evil
herself. Yeah, no more nagas either. I am fixing the world.”
Neltharion leaned up off the ground. He took in the night air, looking up at the starlit sky.
And then, he lowered his nose to the ground, sniffing around. Once more, he was connected to
his Sight. When the vibrations echoed back what he was looking for, he paused. He could hear
the sounds of every burrowing creature down below, no matter what the size.
“Ah,” he said. “Found it.”
Leaning back up, Neltharion thumped the ground hard with his tail. A slab of ground
opened wide, revealing a dark, hidden shaft. He could feel the heated air escaping from the
shaft, indicating that it went down deep. The deeper the shaft would go, the hotter it would
become. And this shaft was going close to the core. Only black dragons would create a tunnel
that went so deep. Neltharion took in a deep breath and dove into the shaft. He fell down the
dark shaft, but the darkness did not matter to him. Wings folded tightly to his side, he continued
his long dive. Hot wind whizzed by his scales, creating a whistling sound in his ears. His speed
increased greatly. After nearly a few minutes of his dive, Neltharion started to feel the pressure
of the planet upon him. The deeper he went, the greater the pressure and the greater the heat. He
reveled in the heat and pressure. Only black dragons could withstand the fire and the strength of
the core, Neltharion especially. The shaft began to widen, spreading out into an enormous
cavern system. Lining the walls were thousands of crystals growing in the heat. Amethyst and
citrine covered the ceiling while diamonds sparkled in veins along the walls. Mithril glistened in
spider webs along the floors. Neltharion ducked down and landing upon a bank of cobalt and
quartz. He swept his wings to his back and scanned his surroundings with awe.
“I have forgotten...” he breathed, taking it all in. It had been years since he had seen
something this grand with his own eyes. Neltharion’s time in Deepholm had been spent in
darkness while Deathwing tormented him. His body tingled in excitement. A broad grin spread
across his face. Neltharion shrank back, hearing a loud boom and a deep rolling growl as a flash
16
of light blinded him. Glancing up, Neltharion saw a fluctuation among the crystals. Clouds
rolled over the crystals and lightning forked through the billows. The cavern was like a world
beneath the world, though not as massive as Deepholm.
Though the cavern mirrored
Deepholm’s look. His keen ears picked the sounds of hissing steam as water splashed upon the
molten pools below from the ground above.
This was his home.
There was sounds of industry from the tinkering of the Earthen, mining away at the gems
and precious metals. And then there were the dragons. Neltharion’s eyes sparkled as he gazed
upon the massive numbers of black dragons, drakes, spawn, and drakinoids. He heard the chirp
of newly hatched wyrmlings and his grin grew larger, his lips pulled across his dagger-like teeth.
There they were, his flight, the Black Dragonflight, his children, alive and well.
Maybe not well...
He could sense it, the growing darkness, like a festering plague infecting them, the
madness of the Old Gods. His smile faded as he sensed their madness and his heart fell.
Neltharion rumbled and leapt down onto the lower ledges. He filed his great body through the
mass of crystals growing out through the floor. The dragons took no notice of him, their
expressions appeared vacant. They acted as aimless as shadows, awaiting any order from their
lord and Aspect. But he was their lord and Aspect and they still took no notice. Coming back in
time severed his connection with them. It was like he was just another black dragon to them.
Just as well, Neltharion much rather steal the Dragon Soul without incident. As he lumbered
passed them, Neltharion felt a growing weakness. He thought he could feel it above ground, but
the longer he stayed in the past, the more he felt it. Though his resolve kept him strong. Seeing
the look of his flight, their vacant, zombified expressions, pushed him more to his goal.
“Time and fatigue be damned,” Neltharion said in a rumble as he walked faster. “I will
destroy that accursed disk. The future will never know of the evils of Deathwing and my flight
will be freed!”
His senses lead him to a corridor of rock and crystal. Neltharion rumbled as he noticed
his strength returning. He heard voices down the lower end of the corridor, one large and
masculine, and the other softer and feminine. He heard the voices struggling with each other.
Then, there the sound of a slap. Neltharion moved towards the sound of the voices. There he
found two black dragons, one male, the other female. The male was massive, but not nearly as
massive as Neltharion was. There was a line of glowing purple crystals ran from the crown of
his head to the tip of his tail. Gold and silver veins speckled his black scales. Neltharion’s eyes
widened. This slender black dragon was him.
Neltharion of the past.
He watched his young self rake his claws against the female’s face.
“I will not accept excuses!” his deep, thunderous voice bellowed. The cavern quaked
with his anger.
No, not me, thought Neltharion. He’s acting like Deathwing.
Though his younger self lacked the metallic plates that he wore on his spine, the actions
spelled out who was in control.
Deathwing, the mad Aspect.
Deathwing grabbed the female by her horn and slammed her into the rocky wall.
17
“You do as you are told, Sintharia,” he growled. “No more, no less.”
“Yes, my lord,” whimpered Sintharia as she slowly rose.
“Sintharia,” Neltharion breathed. “Damn you..” He growled and broke a large shard of
crystal from the wall. “Damn you, Deathwing!”
“I will have no failure in my flight, or you will bare your neck to me,” said Deathwing,
shoving her back to the wall. “I can find another Prime to suit my needs.”
“Forgive me, my lord,” said Sintharia. “I will not fail you again.”
Neltharion charged for his younger self, rearing to his hind legs. He raised the shard hide
and swing it like a bat against Deathwing’s head. The evil Aspect slammed upon the wall,
sliding down to the floor. He lifted his head painfully to see who the attacker was.
“Stop hitting yourself!” Neltharion scoffed at his younger self and knocked him
unconscious with a final blow. He leaned back, gasping and dropping the shard. His eyes
blinked, realizing what he did. “Son of a fucking bitch, what did I just do?”
Sintharia backed against the wall in confused horror. Neltharion looked up to her and
rushed to her side.
“Sintharia,” he said. “My mate, are you alright?”
“Who...who are you?” she asked. She backed away as Neltharion approached her.
“I’m...Nel...” he broke off, realizing what he was about to say. “No one. Just someone
who can’t stand domestic abuse. It doesn’t matter. Really. Did he hurt you?”
“No,” she said.
“Sintharia, the Dragon Soul, where did the Earth-Warder put it?”
“I...I...” she stammered.
Neltharion sighed as he leaned against the wall: “Of course, you wouldn’t know. He
would never trust such valued information to you...to no one but himself.”
He glanced down, seeing his younger self moan again. Deathwing moved slowly rising
to his feet. Neltharion knelt down and took hold of the evil Aspect’s neck, slamming him face
first into the wall. Once more, Deathwing fell unconscious.
“I’m bigger than you,” said Neltharion. “Stronger than you, and I can rip your head off.
But I won’t, not now. You have to survive, but I won’t let you continue your evil ways. I will rip
that slimy parasite that inhabits your mind. And then, you will be Neltharion again. You will be
the noble Earth-Warder as you were made to be, who loves the world despite its imperfections.
And you will be a guide to the mortals, not their taskmaster.”
He touched the wall and felt a slight tingle from the pads of his claws. Neltharion
focused upon the wall and then allowed his claw to phase through the rock. Then, pulling his
claw free, he found a tiny golden disk no larger than his smallest scale on his palm. The disk
glowed a bright light. Deep inside, he could sense the festering darkness.
“Found you,” he said. He looked to Sintharia, and then back to his younger self. “You
should treat her like a queen, not a pawn. For she may be the only mate you will ever have.”
His eyes fell once more back to Sintharia. “I love you, with all my heart, and whatever I have
done, forgive me, dear Sintharia.”
“I...I don’t understand,” said Sintharia. “Who are you?”
Neltharion leaned down to her and his pink tongue licked at her cheek. Sintharia only
responded with more confusion. As he backed away, he gazed deeply into her golden eyes. His
18
smile faded away. There was no feeling inside her heart, none for him, none for anyone. She
was as vapid as the others.
“You never loved me, did you?” he asked. “You never loved...him...you just mated with
me because it was your duty. A shadow of him only fit to bear his children. I am sorry,
Sintharia, that I made you into such.”
A glimmer of recognition lit her eyes and she tilted her head: “N...Neltharion?
But...how? You’re...right there...” Sintharia pointed at the unconscious Deathwing. “How can
there be two of you? What...what happened? Why do you...look like that? What’s that armor on
your back? Why are you fat?”
“Fat?” Neltharion asked. “With metal plates on my back? You’ll see. Well, if all goes to
plan, hopefully you won’t.” He lifted a claw to her chin. “Don’t say anything, Sintharia. Not to
him, especially not to him...” Then, the much larger Black Dragon began to phase through the
rock. “It shouldn’t be about duty, Sintharia, it should be because you love him...”
As soon as Neltharion disappeared, Deathwing rose up. He shook his head, turning to
Sintharia.
“Who hit me?” he asked.
“I...I...”
“You...you what?” Deathwing asked, once more taking hold of her neck.
“He took it!” Sintharia bleated.
“Took it?”
“The disk,” she replied. “The project you were working on with the goblins. He took it!”
Deathwing looked to the wall and placed his claw upon it. His eyes widened and glow
with a fiery fury.
“The Dragon Soul...” he said. “My Dragon Soul!” Deathwing threw Sintharia down to
the floor. “You...”
“I swear, I had nothing to do with it...” said Sintharia, curling up under the fuming
Aspect. She folded her wings over her body and shivered from his fury.
“Who did?” Deathwing asked, his voice trembling the cavern again.
“A black dragon,” she replied. “A rogue black dragon.”
“What?” Deathwing asked. “The black dragons are under my control! I am their Aspect,
I am their leader!”
“Not this one,” she replied. “He...defies you, Lord Neltharion.”
“Who is he?” Deathwing bellowed, black smoke seeping from his jaws.
“He’s...” Sintharia began. Then, she felt her mind shut down. She could not say the
name, despite the fact that his name was Neltharion also. She could not allow her mind to reveal
this...strange doppleganger of her mate. “I...I don’t know his name. But he’s big, bigger than
you, my lord. With metal plates...metal like I’ve never seen before. Black metal.”
“I know every metal on Azeroth,” said Deathwing. “I am the Earth-Warder!”
“This metal is not from Azeroth,” she said. “It smells different. It’s not right...it smells
like...”
“What?” he asked.
“Elementium,” she replied. “From Deepholm.”
19
“Deepholm?” asked Deathwing, his fury calming. His eyes narrowed. “I know what that
metal smells like. Those planes have been shut off from our world, only I would know how to
get there. How would this lone black dragon get such metal?”
“He had it bolted on his back, my lord,” she said. “And an elementium blade on his tail.”
“Then this rogue black shouldn’t be hard to find,” said Deathwing. “With armor like that
on his body, he’d make quite a noise roaming around the surface of Azeroth.” He leaned back
and began to think. “A black dragon with armor bolted on his body, why would a black dragon
want armor bolted to his body? Protection?”
“It’s only on his back and tail, lord.”
“Not much protection. He left his belly exposed. And I will run him through with my
claws for stealing my Dragon Soul, and take his armor for myself!”
He touched the rock again and closed his eyes, listening for any vibration that seemed
different. He heard the clank of metal against metal, many plates banging together as the sound
grew distant.
“The surface,” he whispered. “He’s on the surface...I will kill him!”
Deathwing phased through the rock shifting through the strata towards the surface.
20
Enter the Exposition Dragon
NELTHARION LOOKED DOWN UPON golden disk in his claws.
“I have you at last,” he said. “And now, I will destroy you!”
He raised a claw up to the disk, preparing to squish it into powder. Then, something
tackled him to the ground. The disk fell from his claws.
“No!” he called, reaching for it. A bronze claw came down and slammed his wrists to the
ground, pinning him tight.
“Do not dessstroy the Dragon Ssssoul, brother!” bellowed a voice touched by a lisp.
Neltharion’s eyes widened as he looked behind him. Pinning him down was an enormous bronze
dragon wearing a very large, striped scarf around his neck.
“Nozdormu?” he asked. “What...?”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, you big idiot!” Nozdormu asked, leaning up
off of his brother’s back. Neltharion rose from the ground, shaking the dirt off of him.
“What am I doing?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”
“Ssstopping you before you make a missstake,” said Nozdormu. “Hasss ten thousand
yearsss really dulled your sssensssess? Are you insssane?”
“That’s not funny,” said Neltharion. “No, I’m not insssane.” He hissed mockingly at his
older brother, mirroring his speech impediment. “What I’m doing is for the good of Azeroth.”
“As if I didn’t hear that line before,” said Nozdormu. He leaned back on his haunches,
crossing his forelegs.
“Oh, stop it! I mean it this time. What I’m doing will benefit everyone! There won’t be
anymore Deathwing. The Dragon Soul, it won’t shatter Kalimdor. People won’t have to die
because of Deathwing!”
“And many livesss won’t exissst either, Neltharion,” said Nozdormu. “Including
yoursss.”
“I don’t care about mine,” he growled, turning away. He knelt down and picked up the
tiny disk. Once more, he prepared to crush it.
“Don’t,” said Nozdormu. “Think about it, what you did wasss necessary. It was, it really
wasss. Thissss wasss supposed to happen. Deathwing wasss supposed to happen.”
“I don’t want him to happen!” said Neltharion. “I don’t want to spend the next ten
thousand years, being the bitch to that parasite! I don’t want to suffer, and I don’t want to see the
world suffer.”
“You don’t underssstand,” said Nozdormu, raising a claw to his brother’s shoulder.
“I understand plenty!” said Neltharion, shaking off the bronze claw. He pointed at
Nozdormu. “You are a fucking hypocrite, Murozond!”
Nozdormu shrank away when he heard his brother call him by that name. His blue eyes
locked upon Neltharion. He felt his own body shake.
“You don’t like it, do you?” Neltharion asked. “You don’t like it when someone calls you
Murozond? But it hasn’t happened to you, but it will. Murozond, that’s what they will call you!
Another Aspect who fell to the whispers of the Old Gods, tragic, right? Murozond! You know
what, Murozond, I don’t like it when people call me Deathwing!” Neltharion puffed his chest
21
out. “But it has to happen, right? It has to happen, no matter what you want to do, it has to
happen. Why? Why does it have to happen when you have the power to change it?”
“You think I want to become him?” Nozdormu asked.
“Sounds like it,” said Neltharion.
“You have no idea, Neltharion,” he began. “You have no idea what it isss like to know
your own fate, when and where and how you will die.”
“I’ve seen how I would die...”
“Only because Ysera shared it with you, and even then, that vision isss changeable,” the
Time Lord said, swallowing dryly. “But mine? Sssset in stone. Aman’Thul, my own father
made sure I saw it, every detail, from every angle. He ground it into my mind to make ssssure
that I would not see my cosmic power as higher than anyone else’s, to remind me that not even I
am forever! But the Old Gods, they ssssensed it. They ssssensed my weakness, my need to
prevent my own death and they offered it to me. And like a dessssperate child, I listened.
Because, no one wantsss to die, not really. Death is...unknown. Death...I fear death. I fear it so
much that I would become Murozond to prevent it. But Deathwing, he embraced death. But
then, I realized with every attempt to ssstop that fate from happening, I was playing right into
Aman’Thul’s hand. I wasss making that event more real than ever. So, I’m locked, Neltharion,
locked for all time to a fate that I cannot change. Murozond is my future, and I will die as
Murozond. I don’t have the power to change it!”
Neltharion curled his claws into fists, gritting his teeth. He felt the sting of tears welling
up in his eyes.
“You and I are kindred spiritsss,” said Nozdormu. “They would never understand what
it’s like to be usss. To know the voices of the Old Godsss and to fall into madness. I can sssee
why you came here. I can ssee what drove you to ssstop yourself. But you saw down there that
there is no going back. The damage hasss been done, had been done for thousands of years more
than you remember. It was not here that you fell to madness, you were already maddened before
you completed the Dragon Soul. And there isss nothing you can do about it.”
The Earth-Warder wiped his eyes.
“I can at least stop the Sundering from happen!” said Neltharion as he looked down upon
the Dragon Soul.
“Don’t!” Nozdormu said. “Don’t. The world you will create from this will only be as bad
as the world the Sundering created. And even if the Sundering would not happen now,
eventually it will happen all because of Aszhara’s actions. In fact, the Sundering made the world
better. You helped create a world that will fight for its sssurvival instead of just wasting away
from apathy and lethargy. Think about those livesss who will never be born. Think about Calia.
If the Dragon Soul is destroyed now, she will never exist.”
Neltharion paused for a moment and swallowed.
“You love her?” Nozdormu asked. “Then, don’t do thisss to her. When I gave her
timelessness, I bound both of your fates together. If you cease to exist, so will Calia.”
“But I...he...the me down there won’t cease to exist,” said Neltharion.
“You as you are right now are bound to your wife as she is bound to you,” said
Nozdormu. “When you go, so will she.”
“What world would I create if I destroy it now?” he asked.
22
“One that isn’t much better off than if you didn’t,” said Nozdormu.
“Time for you to come clean, big brother,” said Neltharion. “I want to know everything
that you’ve seen.”
“Very well,” said Nozdormu. “But first, your past self is coming here. And he isss not in
the bessst of moods. Don’t worry, I can hide you.”
He spread his golden wings and folded them around Neltharion. Suddenly, the world
seemed to speed up. Neltharion saw himself land swiftly, looking around, but not taking any
notice to either of them.
“Throw the Dragon
Soul at hissss feet,” said
Nozdormu. “Let him find
it.”
Neltharion
hesitated, clutching it
tightly.
“Do it!”
The Earth-Warder
tossed the Dragon Soul
and Deathwing swung his
head to the sound.
Kneeling down, he picked
up the disk and peered
down upon it with wonder.
“I have you,” he said. “I have you. And I will not let you go. Never.” He looked around
again. “Rogue, I will find you, and I swear, I will destroy you!”
Then, Deathwing flew off. Neltharion and Nozdormu faded back into regular time.
“You interacted with him,” said Nozdormu. He slapped Neltharion on the shoulder.
“Hey!” Neltharion grabbed his shoulder.
“Idiot!”
“Piss off,” he growled. “Oh, excuse me.” Neltharion leaned in and spat into Nozdormu’s
face with every syllable. “Pisssss offpfffff!”
“Sssay it don’t ssspray it,” Nozdormu growled, wiping his face. “Boulder brain.”
“Sand up your ass.”
“Neltharion, what world would you create had you stopped him?” asked Nozdormu. “It
would not matter. You saw them, all of them, all you dragonsss, you sssaw them...”
“Sintharia...” he said. “And the others. Vapid, expressionless faces. It...pained me to
look upon them. At first I was happy to see them, but...what the hell did I do to them?”
“You ssstole their sssouls when you sold yours to the Old Gods,” said Nozdormu. “But
you got your sssoul back, and you managed to get some of their’s back too. Those five you have
left, they are free. And if you had changed everything now, they would have never been free...”
“The future,” he began. “Tell me...” Neltharion focused his eyes upon his older brother.
“You promised.”
23
“There are many different futures,” began Nozdormu. “However, one I wish to happen
ssso much, and the other, the part of me that is becoming Murozond, does not. There are two
different endings to the Hour of Twilight, one ssssoft, one hard. The one that is ssssoft is the one
you saw, though you end up dying, it is a future in which I would sssurvive, as Murozond, for a
time. Then, I will die as well. For the Old Godsss will no longer need me. But this future is the
future in which Deathwing does win. Then, there isss the one where we saved you, you became
good, but ssstill the Hour of Twilight happened. Even with you back on our sssside, I fell to
madnesssss, and the Old Gods released. And we all die, but it is still soft. Another is not so
pretty. Another, neither I or Murozond wants to have happen. It is a horrible fate. The Hour of
Twilight means not only the Old Gods, but the coming of the Burning Legion, in full force. Not
the few we had here and there, not even what we had when the Sundering happened. No, I am
talking about all of them, billions upon billions of them, led by Sargeras, not an avatar, Sargeras
himssself. And one after another, we die, we all die, and I as Murozond die with the others.
Sargeras uses the chaos brought on by Life and Death being out of control, the streaking magical
fluxes, nature running wild and time dilation to his advantage All these events start ripping the
world apart.”
“And me?” he asked.
“For creating the Dragon Soul,” began Nozdormu. “He doesss what he said he would do.
To feast upon the world, he must feast upon you for you contain the Heart of Azeroth. But you
welcome it, for with usss gone, you feel the pain of the world ripping apart. And it starts to rip
you apart as well. You feel your own reality warp, the nature of your being in flux, and you age
swiftly as the world begins to age rapidly.” He took in a deep breath. “I am the Time of the
world, but you are the world, in dragon form, you sssserve as its avatar, as its consciousness.
You die, the world dies, but if we die and you live...”
“The world ages, fluctuates, rips apart, and I feel it...and I die...when the world finally
dies,” said Neltharion. “Azeroth cannot exist without me and I cannot exist without Azeroth.”
“You die the most horrible death I have ever seen,” he said. “Magic boils you, time ages
you as it begins to age the world, nature withers around you, and you feel the life in you sssseep
out. But you welcome the death Sargeras grants you, for it is a quick one. And he feasts upon
the Heart of Azeroth as he always wanted to. And then he movessss on, to another world to do
exactly the same thing he did to Azeroth. All is left of Azeroth is dust in the solar wind.” He
sighed. “There is a second horrible end of Azeroth.”
“What is it?” Neltharion asked, studying Nozdormu.
“One where we kill Deathwing,” said Nozdormu, he let out a sigh. “And the world begins
its deterioration. A cataclysm greater than the one Deathwing caused. With the Heart dead, that
is it. There can be only one of you. And that heart isss hard to pass onto another. Especially
after we destroy every atom of you and end up giving up our powers in the process to do so. Not
only will there be no more Earth-Warder, but no more Time Lord, no more Life-Binder, no more
Spell-Weaver, no more Dreamer. We become regular dragonsss. And you...dead. And that is
why the world begins its deterioration. With the Earth-Warder gone, it would have been a ssslow
process, but with all five of us without the powers that we were born with....it happens rapidly.
And then, we become easy pickings for Sergerassss.”
24
“No happy ending,” said Neltharion. “I’ve been saved, you don’t have to give up your
powers, but the Hour of Twilight still happens. But at least the Old Gods kill the world before
Sargeras does. Now I know why you called that the soft ending.”
“There is a happy ending,” said Nozdormu. “One you are creating right now by being
involved with mortal livesss. We are not involved with them as much asss you are. Because of
our aloofness, our warning to the coming threat will go unheard. Why should they help us? But
you have helped them. They will listen to you.”
“It all falls on me,” Neltharion sighed. “Wonderful.”
“Not everything,” said Nozdormu, patting his shoulder. “But the mortal world, yesss.
The Night Elves will listen to Ysera, and the rest of us will call upon old allies as well to help in
the coming battle. But the humans and the orcs, the Alliance and the Horde, they will listen to
you more than they will listen to ussss.”
“Why?”
“Because of who you are married to,” he replied. “One day, she will return to her rightful
position, which will place you in a position of power within the Alliance.”
“I cannot take sides,” said Neltharion.
“Because of your friendsssship with Thrall, you, Calia, and Jaina will help create a new
alliance with the Horde,” said Nozdormu.
“Thrall is not the Warchief anymore.”
“Oh isss he? You will convince him to take it back, or at least appoint a Warchief that he
can truly trust. What Garrosh is doing will be the end of the Horde unless Thrall intervenes.”
“Happy ending,” Neltharion said, a smile appearing upon his face.
“A rocky peace, but better than we had before,” said Nozdormu. “But it issss brighter
than all the others. Not perfect, but better.”
Neltharion rumbled and looked up at the night sky: “I like it. What about the Hour of
Twilight?”
“Nothing lasts forever,” said Nozdormu. “Not even us. But at least you will die knowing
you preserved something in this world for its people for by the time the Hour of Twilight begins,
all this won’t matter anymore. They will be too late. And Khaz’Goroth’s last laugh at the Old
Gods will be your death. It will be your lasssst laugh too.”
“At least I’ll laugh at him,” said Neltharion. “And the world dies after I’m gone.”
“That’s it,” said Nozdormu. “The end. The end for all, even the Old Gods. Azeroth
floats on as a dead lump of rock through the ethersss. We can’t live without the Old Gods, but
they will soon find out that they cannot live without usss. The fight that will come between
Azeroth and Sargeras will leave the world heavily scarred. And you will know that it will be
time for the world to wane. Because all things must end. It can’t go on forever. It will continue
on for a few hundred more years, but we Assspects will feel its weariness. It just can’t go on.
Your job is to keep me from trying to make the world go on for a few more thousand years.
Murozond wants to survive, wantssss to live forever. And to do that, the world must live forever.
That is why you will kill me, Neltharion, so that you can finally allow the End happen. You will
rally up the last of the greatest heroes to your side to end my madness so that you can finally
come to your own death. But death is never painlessss. It will hurt, it will hurt you and the
others. But it has to happen. You will save people’s lives and make them ssstronger for it.” He
25
shifted his weight and rustled his wings. “The mortals will leave Azeroth eventually as the world
begins its aging process due to the war brought on by Sargeras. Even our dragons may decide to
go with them. But we Aspects cannot. We are too much apart of this world to leave it, you
especially. We were born to ssserve it and when our time is over, we will die upon it. But our
descendants will live on. What fate will befall them, I cannot see. I cannot sssee beyond the end
of our world.”
“Alright,” said Neltharion, rising up, his voice sounding resolute. “Alright. At least I
know. Well, take me back, Nozdormu. I’m probably doing enough damage staying here longer.”
“Possibly,” said Nozdormu. “But not enough. This time line, I have a personal hand in.
You state you were the one who made the Sundering happen because of the Dragon Ssssoul, but
only because I made sure you did.”
“Now, I am confused.”
“I was the one who sent Krasus and Rhonin here to investigate the anomaly,” he said.
“Well, Murozond did. By doing all of that, Krasus interacted with your past self, which forced
you to finish the Dragon Soul early and reveal your treachery. Because of that, a few extra blue
dragons survived. In the original timeline, only Malygos ssssurvived...”
“Meaning no Kalecgos,” said Neltharion. “And no future Spell-Weaver.”
“Yesss,” said Nozdormu. “Not only that, but this altered timeline forced you to use the
Dragon Soul asss a weapon against the Burning Legion, which alerted the Night Elves to its
power, and when you betrayed everyone, they stole the disk and then, it was taken by the
Highborne to bring forth Sargeras, thus the Ssssundering happened, and only in a month from
now. However, I need to make sure it all happens.”
“So, what I did was actually a good thing...what a twist!” Neltharion blinked and
scratched his head. “So, why am I here now? Why are you letting me be here?”
“The timeline must be altered a little bit further to create the End that needs to be
created,” said Nozdormu. “Which is why, I did nothing when you ssstepped through that portal
following the maddened Chromie.”
“But Murozond...”
“He wasss hoping you would destroy the Dragon Soul,” said Nozdormu. “Which would
have resulted in what he wanted. I am making sure that I get what I want. This is what I want.
To push this timeline into full swing, you musst interact with two other people. One of those
cannot be Alexstrasza. The other cannot be yourself, at least to tell yourself who you are and
how you will come to be. However, you can ssstop yourself from killing the first person, but that
is the final leeway I will grant you.”
“And who are these two I must interact?” asked Neltharion. He scratched his neck plates
in a grating metallic sound.
“You will know when you sssee them,” he replied. “But to sssee the first, you must stick
close to yourself, but out of your self’s sight. Follow him right up to the point he reveals the
Dragon Soul to everyone.”
“Okay,” said Neltharion. He sighed and ran a claw along his armored neck. “Now I
know why you went crazy, brother, all this timeline nonsense would make me crazy too.”
“You became crazy for a different reason,” said Nozdormu.
“I had voices in my head, you have confusion,” said Neltharion.
26
“Go back down there and watch yourself,” said Nozdormu. “But do not talk or interact
with yourself or anyone else. Let yourself finish the Dragon Soul.”
Neltharion shifted his stance and shook his beard. He took in a deep breath and
swallowed hard.
“Don’t stop myself, let myself finish,” he repeated. “Got it.” He straightened up, and
puffed out his chest. “I won’t do any other than contact these people. I wish you would be more
specific.”
“I’ve given you too many detailsss already,” said Nozdormu. “Neltharion, one thing I’ve
regretted wasss not connecting with any of you. I wasss too full of my own duties as well as my
own death that I neglected my siblings. So, me telling you the end is my way of trying to
connect to you. But, let just say that thisss is between us to brotherssss. And we are the only two
brothersss left.”
“So, keep Alex, Ysera, and Kalec out of the loop?” asked Neltharion.
“Considering that you and I fall into similar situationssss, yessss,” he replied. “Ysera may
have an idea, but for now, let Alex be surprised. Just help me work towards that goal and things
will fall into place.”
“No problem,” said Neltharion. “Uh, one thing, why do you have the lisp? Not even I
could figure it out.”
Nozdormu sighed as he shook his head. He rolled his blue eyes and licked his lips.
“My father made me with an oversssized tongue,” he replied. He allowed his long
tongue to roll out between his fangs.
“Yeah, that looks thicker than normal,” said Neltharion. “You know they’ve got a surgery
to fix that.”
The Time Lord growled: “Sssshut up.”
Neltharion chuckled deeply. Nozdormu growled even louder, punching his younger
brother in the shoulder.
“Ow,” said the Earth-Warder. “Asshole.”
“Dick.”
“I’m bigger than you!” Neltharion said, showing off his full height. He was a full neck
taller than Nozdormu. The Bronze Dragon only coming up to the Black Dragon’s chest.
“I’m older!” Nozdormu called trying to stretch himself as tall as his younger brother.
However, Neltharion still was taller. He shrank back down. “How the hell did you get taller than
me?”
“I drank my milk, and you didn’t,” said Neltharion, grinning.
“Feh.”
The Earth-Warder chuckled.
“And I’m better looking too,” he continued.
Nozdormu could feel his blood boil slightly.
“Don’t push it,” said the Time Lord. “Don’t ever push the dragon who can change your
hissstory.”
Neltharion chuckled again.
27
“Look, just ssstick to the plan,” said Nozdormu. “That’s it.” He backed away. “It isss
time for me to go. You must ssstay here, and watch the Sssundering. When it happens, I will be
ready to pick you up.”
28
Me and My Evil Self
HE WATCHED INTENTLY AT the gathering of dragons in the vast corridor system that hid
this secret meeting. He was nothing more than a shadow upon the wall, a silent sentinel
Neltharion watched all of them, red, blue, bronze, and green. He heard their chatting, some
confused, others unsure, and many excited. Then, his eyes shifted to the sound of Alexstrasza
welcoming her much younger consort, Korialstrasz. Neltharion passed from wall to wall, getting
an angle around the young consort.
“Krasus...” he whispered. No, this was not Krasus, or rather he did not call himself
Krasus, at least not yet. Still, there he was, the love of Alexstrasza’s life. A soft smile appeared
upon his face when he looked upon the young consort. “Hello, Krasus.”
Korialstrasz made no motion that he heard the sound of the shadow on the wall.
Neltharion’s voice could not sound beyond the wall. Perfect for what he was doing, what he was
watching. Though he could hear the sounds of their voices.
“My queen,” Korialstrasz dipped his head reverently at Alexstrasza.
“It is good you have returned,” she said.
“What has been going on, no one has answered my calls?” he asked. “Or even explained
the silence.”
“I am sorry, but it was necessary,” said Alexstrasza.
Neltharion knew very well why. Within the last five days, the appearance of the Burning
Legion continued to become more and more frequent. Isolated attacks became full on invasion
raids. He had been watching the attacks, hiding himself within the rocks. He did exactly what
Nozdormu instructed him, keeping to himself, not revealing himself to anyone unless he found
the two he was to reveal himself to. Still, he was not sure who those two were. Deep inside,
though, he hoped one would be Korialstrasz, at least to have one word with him. But in this day
and age, the young red dragon still believed Neltharion’s younger self to be noble and good, and
on their side. Such thoughts could be farther from the truth. He shifted across the walls again
and looked down at Korialstrasz and Alexstrasza interacting.
“Is Krasus with you?” asked Alexstrasza.
Krasus? Thought Neltharion. “Krasus is here? He’s here? Now? Where? Where is he?”
“He chose to stay behind,” said Korialstrasz.
“Of course he would,” said Alexstrasza, smiling subtly.
“Stay behind?” asked Neltharion in the wall. “Stay behind where? Where?” He reached
to his back. “Oh, if I could just glue some purple crystals to my back and...loose about 200 tons,
I’d could disguise myself as...myself and get the answers that way!” He sighed. “I need to go on
a diet.”
But then, he turned to the rumble and his face grew dark.
“It is necessary for all dragons to take part in this ritual.”
“Never mind, the disguise wouldn’t work anyways,” Neltharion sighed. “I’m...already
here...two of me would be bad enough.”
“Mine have already done so,” said his younger self.
“You are a fucking liar!” Neltharion growled at his younger self, though his voice still
went on unheard.
29
“The other flights must do so as well...” Deathwing, or rather young Neltharion
continued.
“My final consort is here,” said Alexstrasza, stepping aside to reveal Korialstrasz beside
her.
Neltharion swallowed: I can’t just stand by and let this happen. Alex, don’t touch that
thing, you don’t know where it’s
been!
“The bronze flight has
come,” continued Alexstrasza.
“Though we have noted
Nozdormu’s absence.”
“He was with me,” said
Neltharion in the wall. “And we
were having a jolly old time, calling
each other names, acting like two
children. It was fun!”
“ W h a t ’s o n e d r a g o n
missing?” asked Alexstrasza.
“Would that matter so much,
Neltharion?”
“Shouldn’t matter,” said
Neltharion in the wall. “Doesn’t
make sense for two Krasuses to impart their souls to the damned disk. That would be redundant.
He’s already done it! No sense in him doing it again.”
“One dragon,” said Deathwing. “No, I suppose not.”
Good answer, you dick, Neltharion thought. I can’t believe Nozdormu is making me sit
here and listen to myself, and watch myself. What am I gonna do that I know I haven’t done
already? Look at me, the pompous ass with his smug smirk, his zombie flight, and his... “I’m
your master, bow before me” stance. Why haven’t you people figured it out yet? He’s evil, don’t
listen to him! And they call me stupid...well no, I’m not stupid because apparently I pulled the
wool over these morons’ eyes. He snorted as he looked upon Malygos, who was peering down
upon the Dragon Soul. The same goes for you, Malygos! You were supposed to be my best friend
and you didn’t catch the evil? He flowed down towards the Spell-Weaver. I’m evil, look at me!
Look how evil I am!
He scoffed and leaned against his rocky cover, continuing to watch.
“What exactly is it?” asked Korialstrasz.
“The plan Neltharion has devised,” said Alexstrasza replied. “Probably the only hope we
have of ever defeating the demons.”
Korialstrasz looked down upon the golden disk: “But what exactly is it?”
“That which I will use to exercise the demons from our world,” Deathwing replied. He
looked upon the disk with marvel, almost worshiping it. “I give you, the Dragon Soul...”
And then, there goes the neighborhood...Neltharion sighed from the wall. You could cut
the dramatic tension with a butter knife, Deathwing. Nice going. It’s power, endurance, self30
control which is keeping me from wanting to leap out of this rock and strangle you right now.
Oh, Kalecgos, I now know how you feel.
Deathwing passed his green gaze to the other dragons, a smile curling up the corner of his
lips.
“He’s not even attempting to hide it now,” Neltharion bellowed allowed. “And you idiots
are still fooled. How the hell did I do it? How did I fool all of you? Was that damned evil
personality of mine just that good at what he does? Now look at me, where’s all that charisma
gone? I aged ten thousand years, and now...I’ve got as much charisma as a murloc. When
Deathwing left my mind, he took the charisma with him.” He scratched his beard in thought.
“Or maybe being that evil just gives you charisma. I was just too much of a goodie-good to have
that kind of charm.”
He growled and settled back into silence. They all gathered in the Chamber of the
Aspects, all four Aspects, save for Nozdormu, were present. And of course one extra EarthWarder, hiding in the shadows. Neltharion continued to eye his more evil counterpart and past
self, once more seeing the intense stare he had to the Dragon Soul. His consorts, Sintharia
among them, still were nothing more than shadows only following his movements. Neltharion
took in a deep breath, barely wanting to watch the scene that transpired afterwards. His cover
made perfect, not even his past self could sense his presence. He passed along the walls. Then,
he paused again, to peer at Malygos, who was also just as dazzled by the creation. Neltharion
shook his head. And then, with eagerness, Malygos approached the disk and imparted his power
to it, his flight followed his actions. Neltharion noticed the grin upon Deathwing’s face as his
older brother gave of himself.
“Wasn’t all that bad after all!” Malygos said in a cheery tone.
“Oh, if you only knew,” said Neltharion within the wall. “Dear big brother...”
Malygos attempted to describe what he felt when he parted his essence, Deathwing only
smiled slightly, his gaze never leaving the disk. Not receiving a reply from his old friend and
brother, the Spell-Weaver shrank away.
“I suppose it could wait...” he said.
Only a rumble of agreement was the reply Deathwing gave him.
Then, Saridormi, the Prime Consort of Nozdormu, imparted the power contained within
the hourglass to the disk. The disk drank the golden sand up and in a flash, all of the energy
vanished. That was Nozdormu’s power. Neltharion sighed again.
“And he knew about this,” he whispered. “He knew exactly what was going on, and to
preserve the timeline, he still did it!”
But Neltharion’s darker self kept watching the Dragon Soul as it displayed the
kaleidoscope of color all around the room. Neltharion swallowed again, feeling a chill run down
his spines as he stared at his former self. Deathwing’s breathing became more rapid, growing
impatient. Neltharion pulled at his braids, feeling an anxious tingle running along the pads of his
claws. He bit his lower lip. Lastly, it was Alexstrasza’s flight now to impart their power.
Alex...Neltharion swallowed. No....please...don’t...
She did as she was told and glistening energies of brilliant crimson flowed out from her
and the other red dragons. She backed away and dipped her head to her black brother. The only
31
other red dragon who had yet to part his energy was Korialstrasz. Alexstrasza leaned down and
whispered.
“My love...”
Korialstrasz blinked, staring at the disk. Then, Neltharion watched his closely as his evil
counterpart did. There was so much hesitance in his movements. He slowly approached the
floating disk. There was a look of almost fear in his eyes and Neltharion drew closer.
“You...know...don’t you?” he whispered. “If you know, then don’t do it.”
Korialstrasz continued to stare at the disk. From deep within, he could sense a darkness.
“It’s waiting for you,” rumbled Deathwing. Korialstrasz focused upon him, taking note
of his change in demeanor. He was growing impatient, as if the wait itself was almost agonizing
for him. Then, the red dragon swallowed hard and raised his chest up. A flash of light emanated
from the disk and his crimson energy met it. With two glowing hands, the disk snatched it in,
trapping it. Korialstrasz backed away, breathing heavily as he felt as if something precious was
stolen from him. Neltharion closed his eyes, his head lowered. Deathwing snatched the disk
into his claws.
“It is done!” he bellowed triumphantly. “All that has given, and now I will seal the
Dragon Soul forever.”
Neltharion watched his former self take on a purple black glow about his body. His glow
flowed over the disk, swirling around it as if it was binding it. The murmurs of the other dragons
filled the room. Finally, one voice, a voice that always brought a smell to Neltharion’s face
spoke up.
“Should it be like that?” Ysera asked.
“For it to be as it must,” Deathwing rumbled, Neltharion saying it along with him. “Yes.”
Neltharion swallowed dryly, and then turned to Malygos, ready to hear him chime in.
“It is a weapon like no other,” said the Spell-Weaver. “It must be like no other.”
And Deathwing nodded in agreement with him. Neltharion’s eyes rolled back into his
sockets and he growled in defeat. He hung his head heavily upon his shoulders.
“It is not quite finished,” said Deathwing. “The final casting must be done privately.”
“Lie,” said Neltharion. “Just keep doing it, no one cares anymore. Not even me.”
“Will be ready on time?” asked Alexstrasza.
“It shall be ready when it needs to be ready, sister,” said Deathwing. He dipped his head
in parting respect and then vanished. The other dragons then began to vanish as well, only
leaving Alexstrasza and her dragons remaining, along with one sorrowful and much older
Neltharion still hiding within the walls. He saw the last glimmer of worry upon Korialstrasz’s
face just as both he and Alexstrasza vanished. When the chamber was empty, Neltharion phased
out from the walls. He landed in the center of the chamber, looking around in its vacancy. Then,
he plopped upon the floor. Tears streamed from his eyes as the echoes of his sobs bounced off
the walls. He clawed the ground, curling up into a ball in the low, golden light.
“It’s like it was before,” he said. “Made to watch this happen, like before, and I can’t do
anything about it! Why make me see this? Why? They saw nothing, they saw not his change in
character, or his attitude, they saw nothing!”
He knew it would be a while before they would have to return to the chamber. He felt the
world around him tremble as he spread his Sight through the ground. He could see the battles,
32
hordes of demons battling Night Elves. They poured out through the black portal, being
combatted by the resistance. The battle itself seemed to be going in the Night Elves’ favor, but
still they were loosing by the numbers. Then, Neltharion’s mind drew closer to the portal itself,
sensing its violent vibrations as its energies fluctuated across the ground. His eyes were dry as
he looked upon the vibrations, a darker, and more troubling tone echoed through the rock. And
with every measure he listened to the tone, the colder he soon felt.
The way is not yet open to me...I had expected better...I will not be denied.
The voice was chilling and Neltharion knew exactly who was speaking. He rose from the
ground, swiftly disconnecting from what he was witnessing. He did not need to see the face of
the being who’s voice he heard. He knew who that was.
Sargeras.
“And, now it just got worse,” Neltharion whispered. Wiping his eyes, he lowered back
down to the rock, swimming his way through back towards the surface. His thoughts raced
around upon this discovery and then he suddenly came to one conclusion.“Krasus. Krasus, I
have to find Krasus. Displaced out of time, like me, perhaps he is the one I must meet.”
Though before he would go to Krasus, there was one being he wanted to interact, despite
Nozdormu’s warnings. So, he had to be careful. He could sense some of the energies of the
magical leylines as they etched through the mountains and the valleys. He did not sense them
the way Malygos would who knew exactly where they were and the junctures and streams they
created, but the magic gave off an interesting effect upon the rock they flowed through. And the
vibrations he felt through these affected rocks created an even more curious sound. It was that
sound that Neltharion followed which brought him close to the glowing streams that fed the
world its magic. They all flowed out from one central point, and that is where he would find
Malygos. As the sound bent and into a sharp note, Neltharion knew he was getting close. The
tone crescendoed to a choir of tones, like bells ringing and he could hear that he was coming
close to the affected rock. That rock sang. He could hear the song of the Heart of Azeroth
joining in with the song of the magic that etched its way through it, almost like a chorus of
singers playfully delighting in their harmony. A harmony that Neltharion and Malygos once
shared. Truly, the Heart knew the Magic was his best friend. The part of Deathwing that was
still Neltharion also knew it too and tried his best to sing out, but Deathwing’s continued hidden
treachery masked the song so not to fool Malygos. Neltharion himself could hear the subtle
masking and the real tone that his past self was giving off. It was one of desperation, discord, as
if he was trying to warn Malygos of the coming danger.
Warn Malygos, I tried to warn him....should I? Should I do it? Perhaps I can instill some
uncertainty in him and maybe he’ll be better prepared.
If Nozdormu had meant for Neltharion not to even say something to Malygos, he would
have stopped him right here.
Nothing. Nozdormu did not make a move.
Neltharion rose himself out of the ground, hearing the song come to its peak. There, he
found the Blue Dragonflight on an icy hill. Blue dragons had always loved the cold, the brisk
clean air, and the high altitudes. Here, Malygos could survey everything. There he was in the
center with his flight, talking as merrily as he ever did before the betrayal. He had a glow about
his face, grinning from ear hole to ear hole. Alexstrasza was right, perhaps Malygos should have
33
been the Life-Binder instead, he certainly was filled with life. He was also filled with love, the
love of his consorts, his children, and the admiration of his siblings. Neltharion came to a ledge
and passed his gaze upon the Blue Dragonflight.
“If I am going among them, then I must not look like I do now,” he said. “Malygos must
not see me like this.”
He slammed his forepaw upon the rock and an immense black dragon rose from the
ground. The dragon was not as large as himself, and much slender. It was made from obsidian
rock with tiny gold and silver veins etched through his scales. And of course, lining from his
head to his tail was a row of amethysts. Its eyes were made of policed emeralds. Neltharion
looked upon this likeness of his younger self and then nodded, phasing through the rocky cliff.
He possessed the avatar, awakening inside of it. Neltharion looked about his new body, feeling
up and down with a smile. He was himself as he once was before, at least that was what he
looked like. He was not completely himself, though just a rocky look-a-like. Still, it was perfect
enough to fool Malygos in the darkness. Though, the only problem was, he could not fly. His
wings were made from the rock, they were not like real wings.
“Good enough,” he said. Neltharion slid down the cliff of the mountain, ice and rock
flying up from him. As he reached the valley, he padded towards the group. Blue dragons
looked behind them and then parted. He heard them murmur...
“The Earth-Warder, the Earth-Warder...”
Malygos silenced his discussions with his consorts and looked to see his old friend and
younger brother running for him. He had the look of confusion as to why Neltharion would want
to visit him now.
“Neltharion!” he called. “Good friend!”
“Hey, big brother,” said Neltharion, a smile spreading across his face. He gathered the
Blue Dragon up in his forelegs and hugged him, squeezing tightly. It was a hug he longed felt
needed. Malygos was always his close friend besides his brother and the two were rarely apart,
except for the time when Neltharion started to fall into madness.
“Ho, ho, what is this?” Malygos laughed. “You haven’t given me a hug like this in a few
centuries...what brought this on?”
Neltharion pulled away, and if his eyes had tear ducts, he would be crying.
“I just...missed you, that’s all,” he replied.
“Missed me?” Malygos asked. Then he started to laugh louder. “Dear Neltharion, you
just saw me.”
“Right!” Neltharion said. “Right! I just miss coming to visit you and you and I just
hanging out and...talking...and you wanna go for a walk?”
“Excuse me?”
“Walk...me, you...walk alone, to talk...” stammered Neltharion.
“We’re talking now,” said Malygos, his face changed to a look of worry. “Neltharion, are
you alright?”
“I’m fine, Malygos,” said Neltharion, shuffling his feet. “And I mean you and I talk by
ourselves.” He pointed to the other blue dragons. “Without them.”
“Alone?” Malygos asked. “Well, of course, anything you need to say to me, I am always
here for you, little brother.”
34
Always here for you, little brother, that statement alone nearly broke Neltharion into a
sob. He was fighting it, fighting the tears he could not shed in this form, but he was fighting it.
“Yeah, always...here for...me,” he swallowed, trying to hold it back even further. He
perched his lips together, his face contorting into a pained expression. Then, he motioned away
from Malygos’ flight. “Walk? Now? Yes? Please? Walk?” His tail smacked across Malygos’
shoulder. “Let’s go!”
“What is the matter, dear Neltharion?” asked Malygos as he began to walk along side the
Earth-Warder.
Neltharion looked behind his shoulder, seeing that they were coming to a good distance
away from the other dragons. He bit his lip and swallowed.
“Neltharion?” Malygos asked. “Is there something wrong with the Dragon Soul? I
figured the matrix I had instructed you to create was correct? Is there something wrong? Do you
need me there to help?”
“The Dragon Soul?” asked Neltharion, slowing. “No, Malygos. There’s nothing wrong
with it.” Now you’re lying! Of course there is something wrong with it, it’s evil!
“Then, what?” asked Malygos.
Neltharion pulled to a stop and looked back at his blue brother: “I...I just wanted to say
I’m sorry!”
“Sorry?” asked Malygos. “Sorry for what?”
“I...I...for a lot of things,” he replied. “For...not visiting as often. And for things that
might happen during the fight. Just, I’m sorry.”
“What things?” asked Malygos. “Neltharion, you’re not making any sense.”
“I know,” said Neltharion, dipping his head heavily. “I know. I just...I can’t say. I just
want to apologize ahead of time. Trust me, you’ll know when you see it. Something bad is
going to happen, and I fear the worst for you.”
“Something bad?” he asked. “What?”
“I...I can’t say,” said Neltharion. Suddenly, he felt sick to his stomach. His lips would
not work, or rather each time he tried to even think about saying exactly to Malygos about the
betrayal, he grew sick himself. “I’ve said too much already. But a little heads up and maybe it’ll
soften the blow. Just don’t take it too personally. It’s not you, it’s not Alexstrasza, it’s not any of
them. I’m...just a bit crazy and don’t know what I say when I will say it.”
Malygos looked away, his cheery face fading: “You...sound a little like that stranger
Krasus.”
“What?” Neltharion asked. “Krasus? You met Krasus?” His memory came flooding back
to him...yes, he did, didn’t he?
“Now you really are not making any sense, little brother,” said Malygos, his orange eyes
looking concerned. “Of course I met Krasus, and so did you! Have you forgotten? Alexstrasza
called us to a meeting to see about him. He was in a mortal disguise, riding on Korialstrasz.”
“And?” asked Neltharion.
Malygos’ eyes narrowed: “Well...he...I don’t know when exactly it happened, but, there
was something about him, especially when he looked at me.”
“You noticed that? How about when he looked at me, did he seem a little off when he
looked at me?”
35
“Yes,” said Malygos. “That’s when he started not making any sense, like you are just
now. And he looked a little sick...”
Neltharion was feeling a little sick himself, even worse now than he did before. The
moment he tried to tell his brother, instill some sort of question inside his brother, his stomach
began to churn. Nozdormu was trying to stop him after all. He could just dance around the truth
and he would not feel as sick, still, the need just made him even more ill.
“You look sick,” said Malygos.
“I feel sick,” said Neltharion.
He’s not the one you’re supposed to talk to, Neltharion.
He shut his eyes when he heard that voice echo into his mind.
“I will say this,” said Malygos. “He did seem a bit, perturbed about you. He felt that way
about me, but you...it was as if his world shattered when he saw you.”
“I...I suggest you follow his worry,” said Neltharion. “Just follow it. He’s got a good
reason.”
“What reason?” asked Malygos.
Neltharion felt his stomach churn even faster: “I can’t say!” He swallowed and tried to
regain his composure. “Malygos, um, have you noticed something odd about my flight?”
“A little, they seem more orderly than they were before,” said Malygos. “They’ve always
been orderly, but, this time...they don’t act like dragons, but...just shadows, shadows of you.”
“Tell me, dear brother,” began Neltharion. “When exactly did you start noticing this?”
“About...oh...maybe two thousand years ago,” he replied. “Maybe less. It was right when
I noticed you stop visiting me as often. You only started visiting me because of this Dragon Soul
business. You never visited me because you needed something, you just visited me because...”
“Because you were my brother and we were close,” said Neltharion. “Anything before
that? Any change in behavior?”
“Well, you seemed distraught when you did visit,” said Malygos. “And when I would
press upon the matter, you...would grow distant.”
“Distraught,” said Neltharion.
“I figured perhaps your duties were getting to you,” said Malygos. “The weight of the
world, it is a heavy burden. I fear you would be like Nozdormu, and just disappear altogether!”
Neltharion lowered his head again, shutting his eyes tightly.
“Now, you seem distraught again,” said Malygos. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
Truth time. “I’m not,” he said as he raised up to look upon his brother. “And I want you
to keep that in your mind when you join the fight. When you go for the meeting after I call
everyone, after I make the final preparations for the Dragon Soul’s completion, I want you to
keep in your mind that I am not alright! That there is something wrong with me. Keep it in the
fore of your mind. But don’t let me see it. Don’t let me see that you know something’s wrong.”
“Why?” asked Malygos.
“Because that thing I said, that may happen to you, may be even worse if you do,” said
Neltharion. “You should have known that there was something wrong when I placed my bind
upon the Dragon Soul just a while ago. That dark glow that I had around me, you should have
sensed it then. So, I’m telling you now! Something is wrong with me!”
“I still don’t understand,” said Malygos.
36
“Well, maybe this won’t make me as sick if I tell you,” he began, puffing his chest out.
“When I said that everyone must impart their power into the Dragon Soul, one flight did not.”
“Which?”
Neltharion felt a tightness in his throat, but he fought against it: “Mine.”
“Yours,” Malygos asked. “But you said...”
“I lied,” said Neltharion.
“Lied?” Malygos asked. “Why would you lie about something like that?” He blinked in
confusion and then he looked away, wagging his head. “Why would you...but that would mean
that...” Then, his eyes lit up in realization. He looked upon the Earth-Warder with horror. “That
would mean...”
“Now you know,” said Neltharion. “What I am planning.”
“But, why would you do such a thing?” asked Malygos. “Why? Why would you...I don’t
understand...we’re your family, your brothers, your sisters...why would you...betray us?”
“Malygos, you must do me a favor,” said Neltharion. “Don’t speak of this, for one, don’t
let me see that you know, for the other, and know that I am not myself, the being you saw in that
meeting who told you to give your power to the Dragon Soul...it was me and it wasn’t me. I
can’t get any clearer than that, you just have to take my word for it...”
“But, if you lied about imparting your power to the disk...how can I trust you now?”
Malygos asked.
“Look into my eyes and see that you can,” said Neltharion.
Malygos squinted at his brother’s eyes, but only saw that they were merely gems.
“This...this is not the real you,” he said. “Those are not your real eyes. This is some stone
golem you sent...”
Neltharion sighed and his body crumbled into a pile of rocks and crystals. Malygos felt
the ground tremble below him as a hulking, black figure burst out of the ground. The figure
looked very much like Neltharion, except he was three times as large, bulky, massive, not the
slender black leviathan that he knew. And there were the plates, strange metal plates lining from
the top of his head to the tip of his tail, which replaced his glowing crystals. A few glowing
splits lined his shoulders, which some of the plates tried to keep from splitting further. His beard
was braided and feathers and glowing stones hung from the locks. A blade was attached to the
end of his tail. Malygos gasped at what he saw.
“Neltharion!” he said. “You...what...happened to you?”
Neltharion nearly doubled over, his stomach popping and growling, his punishment for
revealing his true self.
“I...can’t say...” he replied. “Just...that Krasus is like me...we come from the...same
place.”
“I see,” said Malygos, relaxing in some understanding. “I see. This world you come from
must be horrible.”
“It’s the world my betrayal creates,” said Neltharion. “But it gets better, it gets a lot
better. I get better, for one. Or else I would’t be here right now with you.”
He straightened up and swallowed.
“So, you’ve come back to warn me of your betrayal?” asked Malygos. “That I may stop
it?”
37
“No,” said Neltharion. “It cannot and must not be stopped. If it does, worst things will
happen. My betrayal was...supposed to happen, meant to happen. But there is something I need
you to do. Remember to just play along, act like you don’t know anything. And when the
betrayal happens, just remember that there is still love for my family inside of me.”
“I...understand,” said Malygos.
“Another thing, big brother,” said Neltharion. “I want you to take half of your dragons to
the north, the far frozen north.”
“The north?” asked Malygos. “But why?”
“You’ll know why,” said Neltharion. “Just do it. Take them and leave them there. Tell
them not to join you. Keep them safe and keep them away from my flight as best as you can.”
“To save them...” said Malygos. “From whatever evil you will do...” He took in a deep
breath. “I will do as you ask, little brother, though I do not understand fully what will happen
when it does happen. Or when it will happen...”
“You’ll see it, you’ll know it,” said Neltharion. “That’s all I can say. Most importantly,
not a word to Alexstrasza or Ysera of this.”
“What about Nozdormu?” asked Malygos.
“He...already knows,” said Neltharion. “He’s known from the beginning when he was
made.”
“I see,” said Malygos. “Then it really was meant to happen because it has already happen.
I will not try to stop you...”
The Earth-Warder shook his head, his teeth clinched tight. He rose up and gripped his
brother’s shoulders.
“Oh, stop me when the betrayal happens,” said Neltharion. “Just don’t beforehand. Don’t
let me know that you know. And don’t let me know when it does happen that you did know. Say
something like: ‘How could you, brother?’ and act just as shocked as the rest of them.”
“I have been always the good actor,” said Malygos, with a small smile.
Neltharion smiled, letting loose a tear. He once more gathered up his brother into his
forelegs, hugging him tightly. Malygos chuckled.
“I see now why you hugged me as you did,” he said. “You had not shown such emotions
in a long time.”
“You don’t know how much I’ve missed you, big brother,” the Great Black rumbled.
“You...better not tell me anymore,” said Malygos. “I think...I know enough.”
Neltharion pulled away and wiped his eyes: “Right. Sorry.”
“If it was meant to happen, then I shall have no hard feelings about it,” said Malygos.
“No hard feelings...” Neltharion rumbled. Then his eyes widened. “Oh...shit!”
“What?” Malygos asked. “What’s the matter.”
“Oh...what have I done?” asked Neltharion. “You...no hard feelings...but you’re supposed
to have hard feelings. Lots of hard feelings. You’re supposed to be...really angry.”
“Well, I would be angry if you try to hurt my flight, of course,” said Malygos.
“No, not that kind of angry. Mad. Mad, really mad. Crazy mad.”
“Crazy?”
38
“Oh, what have I done?” asked Neltharion. “Fucked up again! You’re supposed to go
insane after this, very insane. Now, since you know and I gave you some closure over it, you
won’t.”
“But I don’t want to,” said Malygos.
“But you’re supposed to,” said Neltharion. “Like I’m supposed to be crazy now. You go
crazy later.”
“You go crazy, and then I go crazy?”
“Yes!”
“That’s crazy!”
“I know!” Neltharion fell back to his back, his wings spread. “I shouldn’t have told
you...I shouldn’t have told you anything. Now, I’ve messed things up. Nozdormu, just go ahead
and kill me know.”
“Nozdormu?” asked Malygos. “He brought you here?”
“Technically,” he replied.
“Then, did he bring Krasus?”
“No...maybe...I don’t know,” he replied, raising his claws to his face.
“He did or he didn’t...”
“I don’t know if Krasus is from my...part of the time line. I don’t know, but I do know
he’s from...my past, but probably not my immediate past.”
“How do you know he’s not from your future?” asked Malygos.
“Because...Krasus...dies before I get cured,” said Neltharion. “And I’m the one who kills
him.”
He leaned up and his head lowered again.
“He is a dragon?” asked Malygos.
Neltharion nodded.
“One of Alexstrasza’s flight?”
Neltharion nodded.
“But you can’t say who?” asked Malygos.
Neltharion wagged his head.
“But you know who?”
He nodded.
“Well, this is a fun game of twenty questions,” said Malygos. “I suppose it is best that I
not know. But I go insane, do I become what you become as well?”
Neltharion shook his head: “Just...a little crazy...but not as crazy as me. Now I’m hoping
the horror I will unleash will be enough to make you go crazy.”
Then he looked back at Malygos with eyes almost pleading.
“I see...” he said. “I will be the best actor in all of Azeroth. I think hearing what I heard
now will be enough to drive me to madness.”
“Good,” said Neltharion. “Keep that in your thoughts too.”
For a moment they stared at each other, eyes locked. All they could hear was the sound
of the cold wind blowing in the mountains. Neltharion’s eyes became moist as he looked into his
brother’s orange ones. Malygos broke the connection and sniffed, looking off to the side.
Neltharion rumbled, allowing his claws to graze across the snow, sifting through it. He waited
39
for Malygos to say something, anything and he felt his heart quiver just for an instant. Malygos
turned back to his younger brother and licked his lips.
“It is saddening that it has to be this way.”
“Not a word to anyone,” said Neltharion. “Not to Alex, not to Ysera, not to the evil me.
No one!”
Malygos allowed a nod and smiled slightly at his brother.
“Not a word,” he said. “It will all happen as it is supposed to. But if it is supposed to
happen when the demons come...without you...I mean we need all five to fight them...”
“I can’t say anymore,” said Neltharion.
“I see,” said Malygos. “Very well. Farewell, old friend.”
“Good bye, big brother,” said Neltharion.
“If only I knew about this madness sooner, I could have...” began Malygos. “Oh...then it
would be for the best that I didn’t.”
“I know,” said Neltharion. “It hurts me right now just to see it all happen again and I
can’t do anything about it. I don’t want to become that monster. But...I have to.”
“There is one thing I need to know, Neltharion,” began Malygos. “Why would you betray
us?”
“Something evil is inside of me,” said Neltharion. “Controlling me. And you can’t help
me get rid of it.”
“How did this thing...”
“You’re asking too much now,” said Neltharion in warning.
“I understand,” said Malygos. “No more questions.”
“Thank you,” said Neltharion.
With that, he dove back into the ground, disappearing. Malygos sighed and turned back
to his flight. He placed his cheery smile upon his face again and flew back to them. Calling
their attention, he began to state his plan.
“We must be ready when the Earth-Warder summons us,” he began. “However, I want
half of you to remain behind and head up north. Sindragosa, you will lead them.”
“Why?” asked Sindragosa. “We must stay with you, my lord.”
Malygos sighed, unsure whether or not he should reveal all that he had heard from the
strange, time-displaced Neltharion. Then, he turned to his consort and smiled sweetly.
“I do not want to put all my eggs in one cave,” he simply said. “And while I face the
Burning Legion, I will need you to lead the others if the battle turns ill. You are my queen after
all.”
“I will do what you ask,” she dipped her head.
“And that is all I can ever expect of you,” said Malygos.
Return of the Exposition Dragon
“Are you completely sssstupid, or just totally sssstupid?” asked Nozdormu.
“Totally stupid,” said Neltharion.
“I figured as much,” he said. “Well, the damage hassss been done. Sending Sindragosa
up north, you know what this means?”
40
Neltharion shook his head.
“When the time comes,” he began. “When it happensss, she will die. You have made
sure that the Lich King has his Frost Queen.”
“How?” asked Neltharion. “She’s going up north, taking half his flight!”
“When you betray everyone,” began Nozdormu. “Malygosss will call for help in his
desperation. And as she attempts to return, Sindragosa becomes lost in an ice storm. She diessss
from exposure, grief, and hatred in her heart, her body becoming locked in ice over the centuries.
Then, Arthas comes, and resurrects her body ten thousand years from now.”
“I’m responsible for that?” Neltharion asked. “Me? Not the me of this time, but present
me...me...Post-Cataclysm me was responsible for the...”
He looked towards the north, unfurling his great wings.
“No!” Nozdormu called. “Do not do anything!”
“But!”
“What hasss been done hasss been done,” said the Time Lord.
Neltharion frowned lowering himself, swallowing with ill.
“Just bring me home,” he whispered.
“No,” said Nozdormu.
“I wanna go home, now!” the Earth-Warder bellowed.
“Now you’re acting like a ssspoiled brat.”
Neltharion lifted his head, spitting a lob of lava at his brother’s feet.
“Fuck you! Take me home. I miss Calia, I miss my wife, take me home!”
“You are not done,” said Nozdormu. He took hold of his little brother and hefted him to
his feet. “You must meet someone...”
“No!” Neltharion protested, pulling away from the Bronze Dragon. “No more. I’ve
screwed up enough. I don’t want to meet anyone here!”
“You have to,” said Nozdormu. “I allowed you to come here because I knew that I can
count on my brother to make sure that someone does not stop the Sundering from happening.
You must meet that person and prevent him from stopping the Sundering. For Calia.”
“Why me? Why not Alex?”
“Because of the connection with the Dragon Soul. You have it, she does not. It all
revolvessss around the Dragon Soul. And you can make sure that it gets into the right hands for
the Sundering to happen.”
Neltharion rumbled once more and haunched over. He felt Nozdormu’s claw upon his
back, giving it a comforting pat.
“You’re lucky you’re my brother, Nel,” said Nozdormu. “Or I would have broken your
jaw...like Ysssera did. Make you wear another elementium brace on that chin.”
“I looked silly with the first one,” said Neltharion.
“Just go,” said Nozdormu. “And don’t mess up this time!”
“I’m going!” said Neltharion as he phased through the rock.
“Great Sssscot!” Nozdormu sighed. “When Deathwing left Neltharion’s head, he took the
furniture and the deposssit.”
41
A Fly on the Wall
NELTHARION WAS A SHADOW UPON the walls of the Chamber of Aspects. Everyone was
there, including his evil self. He saw Malygos, who was once more putting on that cheery grin
of his. Despite now knowing of “evil” Neltharion’s betrayal, he was still in good spirits.
Neltharion let his face form from the wall, and Malygos looked up momentarily. He gave a wink
of assurance and Neltharion slid back before his other self could see him.
“Oh, this is so exciting!” said Malygos.
“Indeed,” said Deathwing. “I am glad you are excited, Malygos.”
However, Malygos made one small peer into the surface of the Dragon Soul. It was as
the future Neltharion had stated, all colors were there, but the energy of the black seemed not a
part of it, but rather binding it. Neltharion had not imparted his power like the others. This disk
could very well be the thing that Neltharion could control the other flights with with the way he
formed the matrix. Malygos quickly withdrew.
It is as it is meant to be, he thought. This is supposed to happen. I must remind myself of
this. But now...now that it has been pointed out, my brother truly does not seem like himself. A
complete stranger is standing beside me, with the face of Neltharion.
Not another word! Malygos heard a voice inside his mind. It was Neltharion’s, but not
the one standing beside him, but the one watching from the walls.
Sorry!
Don’t think anymore about it. I’m counting on you.
I shall think no more about it.
Deathwing made no notice to Malygos’ change in demeanor. He was still too enthralled
by the disk.
Neltharion once more passed along the walls, watching. He looked to Alexstrasza, and
then to Ysera. As he passed from Ysera, his gaze came to a strange shadowy figure right beside
her.
“What?” he asked. “An uninvited guest?”
Peering closer, he noticed that the figure humanoid in shape. It was a Night Elf. Green
hair flowed from his shoulder and he had a small green beard upon his face. He was dressed in
leaves and leather with a woolen cloak and a moon broach. Then, there was something about the
druid he recognized, the power that came from the druid. He knew this Night Elf and it was
through Ysera that he knew him from. Upon the elf’s forehead was a pair of budding antlers.
Neltharion’s eyes widened.
“Malfurion!” he gasped.
Malfurion, one of the greatest druids upon Azeroth, stood beside Ysera, his eyes focused
upon Alexstrasza. But then, he turned to the disk and his eyes darkened with horror.
Neltharion’s mind whirled when he attempted to remember just what came next. He recalled
Malfurion intruding on this meeting, but he could not remember what happened next. The
answer came to him when he saw the shadowy form of Malfurion cry out in silent agony.
Neltharion looked to his younger self, seeing a small snarl grow upon his jaws.
“Dick me is pulling a dick move,” Neltharion rumbled. “I...better save the elf.”
42
Neltharion let himself phase through the rock to appear much further away from the
meeting. He had to separate himself from the others, making sure that his past self did not see
what he was about to do. He laid his head down and relaxed his body, bidding it to go to sleep.
He could enter the Dream, he had done so many times before, especially since his curing. Ysera
had been there for him, keeping his spirits up after he went into a dive of depression over the
evils he had caused and the Emerald Dream was a place he met her in private so that she could
be his guiding presence. He could enter the Dream at will, though his presence was not as great
as a druid would be here. Still, it was a formidable presence. He awoke in the same place he
laid upon before, but the world itself took on a haze of green. Neltharion looked around. His
powers here had no effect upon the Dream, but his strength was enough for him to rely on. He
could sense himself and Malfurion. Neltharion flew towards the mighty mountains that had
begun to shape because of Deathwing’s dealings. These mountains were not originally here
before. Deathwing was already beginning to change the landscape, to steal away resources,
change the flow of rivers, create draughts, literally change the ecology of the planet itself to
make the world he wishes to rule. Neltharion landed upon the rocks, seeing a shadow breathe his
green flames on a fleeing Night Elf.
You try to steal my precious Dragon Soul!
“Ah crap,” said Neltharion, recognizing that voice. “There I go.”
He flew down to the lower ground where Malfurion was. The Night Elf ran passed him,
pursued by the shadowy figure.
I will not surrender what is mine by right! Only I am fit to rule! You will not stop me!
You will tell no one!
Neltharion tilted his head and popped his neck. Taking one deep breath, he unleashed his
powerful lava upon the specter. Malfurion dove to the ground as the lava splashed upon the
draconic shadow. Neltharion continued his spray, pushing back the specter from Malfurion. He
walked around, placing himself between the two. The specter looked to the attacker, his fiery
eyes wide. Then, he looked upon the line of plates upon Neltharion’s back.
You! He called. The rogue! The traitor to my flight! You will not have my Dragon Soul
either! Neither of you will stop me.
“Your geas won’t work on me,” said Neltharion. “And I suggest you back off before I
give you another dose of hot lava.”
We blacks do not breathe lava...
Neltharion shook his head: “You know, I don’t have to explain myself to you, jackass.
Beat it!” He looked down to Malfurion. “Night Elf, grab a plate and hang on!”
“But...” Malfurion protested.
“Just do it!”
Without another bit of argument, the Night Elf grabbed one of the elementium plates
upon the dragon’s tail. He climbed up onto Neltharion’s back and the Black Dragon took off.
No! I will have both of you, mark my words! I will not be stopped!
“I can probably help give us gain distance from him,” said Malfurion.
“I suggest you do it,” said Neltharion. “My sister only taught me how to be solid in the
Dream, she didn’t teach me how to manipulate it.”
“Your sister?”
43
“Ysera,” said Neltharion. “The Dreamer.”
Malfurion concentrated upon his own body, willing himself to return to it. Neltharion
sensed his power as it began to lead him to where Malfurion’s body just so happen to be. Then,
he concentrated upon his own, ordering it to follow him. The four would meet just at the
juncture of the mountains. He looked behind himself as he flapped swiftly away, his past self
shrinking back to his own body. He took one sigh of relief and smiled.
“He’s gone,” Neltharion announced.
“Good,” said Malfurion. “Can you sense my body?”
“Yep. And mine is about to appear right beside yours.”
“Before we return, I must know,” began the Night Elf. “Who are you?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” said Neltharion.
“I would,” said Malfurion. “Trust me. I would.”
“I’m Neltharion,” he said. “The Earth-Warder.”
“N...N....n...” Malfurion stammered. He began to feel a growing sickness as he tried to
say the name. Something dark was keeping him from speaking it. Neltharion turned back at
him.
“Malfurion?” he asked. “What’s wrong? You look sick!”
Malfurion continued to mumble incoherently, his stomach churning. Neltharion’s green
eye lit up in realization.
“Oh no,” he said. “The geas. It’s okay, it’s okay. Just don’t...hurl on me. You don’t have
to say it. It’s fine.”
Malfurion swallowed and nodded.
“I can help you though,” he said. “I can help you get that geas off of you. Because I...or
rather...he that will become me put it on you.”
Neltharion landed upon the ground where both their bodies were. Malfurion dismounted,
sliding off of his plates. Shrinking down to a humanoid size, Neltharion approached him.
“Just stay still,” he said. He raised a black claw to the Night Elf’s head. Malfurion began
to feel a pressure being raised from his mind and his stomach no longer churned. Neltharion
grabbed him. “Okay, say it, say my name, say what you saw in there.”
“Neltharion!” called Malfurion. “And, what I saw...the disk, that disk...I thought I saw
hope, but then I saw only darkness. That horrible thing the dragons created, it’s just as hideous
as the Burning Legion! I have to warn...”
“You won’t be doing any warning,” said Neltharion. “You can’t.”
“Why?” Malfurion asked. “Why do you share his name? Why won’t you...”
“I’m from the future,” said Neltharion. “I’m displaced, like Krasus is.”
“Displaced?” asked Malfurion. “Krasus is from the future as well...so he knows about the
disk...”
“He’s always known about it,” said Neltharion. “But don’t worry, things are going to get
better, trust me.”
“I saw within you, within him, that same darkness,” said Malfurion. He looked back
where the more evil Earth-Warder had come from. “Horrible...but...” He peered into Neltharion’s
green eyes and he licked his lips. “That evil...you don’t have it! You’re...you’re not like him, but
you are. I don’t understand.”
44
“You know, to save confusion,” said Neltharion. “Call that monster Deathwing from now
on. He is me, and then again, he isn’t. I have been cured of my darkness, but it took a few
thousand years for that to happen. But the things he is about to unleash must happen. Because if
it doesn’t, then many millions of lives
will not exist. Good lives, Malfurion.
Good lives. Including the woman I
love. They all must be born, and so,
Deathwing must do his evil. It won’t
be pretty, and you will hate me as the
rest of the world will. But keep in
your mind that good will triumph.
Things will get better.”
“I do not understand what you
are saying,” said Malfurion, taken
back that this dragon even knew his
name. “But after meeting Krasus,
Rhonin, and Brox, I suppose I have
no choice but to...they are all very
confusing.
You are all very
confusing...I suppose that you have
met me in the future as well, since
you know my name.”
“Rhonin is here?” asked
Neltharion, disregarding his conclusion. “Rhonin? Human with magical powers?”
“I’d say he nearly rivals some of the best of the Highborne,” said Malfurion.
“Oh, oh...oh...I...damn...damn...” Neltharion leaned away, feeling his head swim. “Oh,
damn. Not good. So you know what a human is?”
“Yes,” said Malfurion. “He is from your time as well?”
“Maybe,” said Neltharion. “It doesn’t matter...and Krasus, you met Krasus?”
“Yes.”
“You know where he is?” he asked.
“Yes, he is with me,” said Malfurion.
“Right now?” asked Neltharion. He took hold of the Night Elf’s upper arms, pulling him
closer.
“Yes.”
The Earth-Warder’s face brightened and he smiled: “Save the one who will lead me to the
one I will meet. I was supposed to meet you and you are to take me to Krasus...”
“I am?” asked Malfurion. “For saving me, I will take you to him.”
“And Rhonin too?”
“If I can,” said Malfurion. “But Krasus is insistent to see his Alexstrasza. I could not get
to her though.”
“He’s gonna try and warn Alexstrasza of my betrayal,” said Neltharion.
45
“Possibly, but also to ask for her help,” said Malfurion. “We are horribly out numbered.
The Burning Legion is attacking many of our lands. My people are dying.”
“Well, I might be able to even the odds,” said Neltharion. “If my brother will let me. But
Krasus cannot warn Alexstrasza of my betrayal...the lives...it’ll destroy those lives. This is an
event set in stone, it has to happen. I don’t want it to happen, but it has to.”
“I see,” said Malfurion. Still he looked to the dragon with some confusion.
“You said someone else is here, who?”
“Brox.”
“Who’s he?” asked Neltharion. “That name...sounds familiar.”
“He calls himself an orc,” he replied. “Green skin, tusks...a little hot headed, but Tyrande
has taken a shine to him because he is kind. He calls her ‘shaman’...I don’t know what that
means.”
“An orc?” asked Neltharion. “Here? So, you know what an orc is?”
“Yes,” said Malfurion.
“Great,” Neltharion sighed, slumping. “And ten thousand years before the opening of the
Dark Portal.”
“The what?” asked Malfurion, tilting his head. His long, pointed ears twitched in
confusion.
“Never mind,” said Neltharion. “You know, fuck the time line, and fuck Nozdormu. Take
me to Krasus, I’ll see what I can do to help you.”
“There is a portal that the demons are coming through,” said Malfurion. “The
Highborne...”
“Yeah, I know,” said Neltharion. “The Highborne and their queen made it. She’s calling
Sargeras here because she’s nuts and thinks he can give her great power. In reality, it’s just
gonna destroy the world.”
“Yes.”
Neltharion placed his black claws upon the druid’s shoulder: “Take...me...to...Krasus!”
Malfurion swallowed and nodded. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to once more
rejoin his mortal form. He was jostled awake by a voice calling for him.
“Druid, Malfurion Stormrage!”
“I’m...awake...” said Malfurion, he looked upon the face of the Blood Elf guised dragon.
“Krasus!”
“Did you reach She of the Dreaming?” he asked.
“I did. And she agreed to bring me to where they were meeting.”
“All five Aspects?” asked Krasus, his eyes widening with hope.
“I saw only four,” said Malfurion. “Ysera, your Alexstrasza, and a shining blue dragon...”
“Malygos, the Spell-Weaver,” said Krasus. “How that one will change...”
“And...and...” the Night Elf broke off. “The black one...and his...creation.”
Krasus could not speak of it, but the look in his eyes, Malfurion figured he knew about
the Dragon Soul.
“And I found a friend,” said Malfurion, placing a reassuring hand upon Krasus’ shoulder.
“One who says he is like you...displaced...”
“What?” asked Krasus. “Who? So...you know...how do you know?”
46
“The black one...Neltharion,” said Malfurion. “Um...it is a bit hard to explain, but I hope
he came. He said he could.”
“Wait...” said Krasus. “What...”
There was a moan behind a tree as a black form doubled over onto the ground. Krasus‘
eyes heard the sound of metallic plates clanking together. It was a black dragon, only a black
dragon that was as small as a drake. However, his form looked fully grown and very hulking.
“Ow...” the dragon moaned. “Ysera is right, I do have to be careful when I wake....”
“What?” Krasus swallowed. He saw the line of plates going along the spine of the black
dragon, a few glowing splits here and there along his sides and legs. But the more curious thing
was the blade on his tail. That part, he did not remember. “D....D....” He could not say it, not
even for an instance. His stomach lurched and his illness grew. He fell to his knees.
“Neltharion,” said Malfurion. “I have brought you to him. There he is...Krasus.”
Neltharion rose to his feet and began walking for him, only to slam right into a tree’s
trunk. He fell backwards.
“Oh...hangover...bad hangover...” he moaned, lifting a claw to his head. “It’s like that
time I drank that dwarf’s still...oh...”
Though the spell upon Krasus did not allow him to speak the Great Black’s name, he still
could ask a question. There was one question he would plague the black dragon.
“By the Titans, what are you doing here?” he asked, his eyes growing ever wider.
Neltharion rose once more to his feet and shook off the dirt from his scales. He focused
upon the Blood Elf and a smile appeared upon his face. Not one of malice, but one of happiness
and relief. Neltharion slammed a foot into the ground and a piece of rock shot up under Krasus’
feet, sending him flying, only to fall right into the Earth-Warder’s massive forelegs.
“Krasus!” Neltharion called. “How ya doin’, buddy?”
“B...buddy?” asked Krasus. His voice was soon muffled by the Black Dragon’s massive
chest as he found himself being squeezed in a massive hug.
“I’ve been looking all over for you!” said Neltharion.
“Let go of me!” Krasus called, squirming in the Aspect’s grip. Neltharion let him drop to
the ground.
Krasus scrambled to his feet, pointing his finger to him.
“You...you...you...De...De...”
“Oh, there’s that geas,” said Neltharion. “Hang on, I can fix it.”
He raised a claw to Krasus’ temple and the dragon mage felt a pressure finally lifting
from his mind.
“DEATHWING!” Krasus called, finally being able to say the name. He covered his
mouth in a shock realization how much he needed to release the name from being trapped upon
his tongue.
“Not so loud!” said Neltharion, raising a claw up. “Keep your voice down, the rocks have
ears...mine.”
“You’re not Neltharion of this time, you’re...”
“From your time?” asked Neltharion. “Am I? No, I am not. I’m from after your time.
But I wonder how far...”
“After?” asked Krasus.
Neltharion touched his nose with a grin.
47
“Do not be afraid, my friend, I will utter no word of where you truly come from, or where
your friends come from either,” Malfurion said. “For saving my life, I owe that much to
Neltharion as well.”
“I suppose since we are keeping our identities,” said Neltharion. “Just call me Prestor,
Malfurion.”
“Prestor,” said Malfurion. “Very well. I shall do that. If it were not for Prestor, I would
have fallen to Neltharion’s madness. Or rather as you call him...Deathwing’s madness.”
Daval Prestor, Krasus knew that name all too well. It was the name Deathwing used to
disguise himself as a noble human to trick the Alliance.
“Future, my future?” asked Krasus, his eyes focusing upon Neltharion. “You...you are the
most evil, most vile...most...”
“The biggest victim of all of this, Korialstrasz,” said Neltharion.
“Victim?” asked Krasus. “How can you...”
“I can, very easily,” said Neltharion. “Look again, into my eyes...you saw them...you saw
the madness when you were in the chamber with your past self...now look into them again.”
Krasus focused upon the Earth-Warder’s eyes. He expected to see the madness, in all its
fury and horror, revealed. What he saw was not madness, but sadness, however, love, hope, and
most important, sanity.
“You’re...you’re not Deathwing,” said Krasus. “You’re not the maddened Aspect. You’re
not the Black Scourge...why? The armor...the damage to you...some of it is still there but...”
“Healing,” said Neltharion. “And a lot. Look at my plates. I suspect the last time you
saw them, they were made of adamantine.”
“Yes,” said Krasus. He walked behind the Black Dragon and felt along the plates. They
were warm, but not scalding hot. And they were not adamantine. “Strange metal.”
“Alien,” said Neltharion. “A metal from Deepholm. It’s called elementium.”
“I have heard of it,” said Krasus. “But it’s so rare, how can you have enough to make
plates?”
“I had more plates all around me,” said Neltharion. “But thanks to my sister Alex, only
these are left.”
“My queen...she healed you?” asked Krasus. “Why? Why are you not...in your madness?
I don’t understand.”
“Do you know why I became insane?” asked Neltharion.
“No.”
“Would you like to know?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“My duties were to this world, to the planet itself, and to those who the Titans trapped
within the planet,” said Neltharion. “An evil long forgotten. They whispered to me, horrible
things. I didn’t want to listen to them, I didn’t want to hear them, so they hurt me. They tore my
mind apart until I was nothing more than a weeping little whelp hiding from every shadow I saw.
To save what sanity I had left, my mind fractured and created a monster that they wanted to
control. Krasus, the Neltharion you saw in the chamber, and the being you came to know as
Deathwing, is an entity controlling me. And it will continue to control me until I am freed from
it by a powerful shaman with the help of my sister.”
48
“A split personality,” said Krasus. “That...explains it. But this evil...what is it?”
Neltharion paused and looked to Malfurion. And then, he leaned into Krasus and
whispered into his ear. Krasus eyes lit up.
“That’s who?” he asked, knowing exactly what it was. “That’s...oh no...”
“What?” asked Malfurion. “What did he say?”
“That is something, I’m afraid you cannot know, not at this time,” said Krasus.
“You will know, Malfurion, eventually,” said Neltharion. “And you will help us in
defeating it. At least for a time. There is no destroying it, I’m afraid. But I have merged with
that evil personality at last, and now I am what remains. I am of one mind, Krasus, and I have
returned to my duties as Earth-Warder. That much you can know. This I have been waiting a
long time to say.”
Neltharion took Krasus by the shoulder, pulling him close. The Earth-Warder lowered his
head.
“I just want to say I’m sorry,” said Neltharion. “For everything I have done, to you, to
Alex, to everyone. Forgive me. Before I came back here, I was visiting the Ruby Dragonshrine
with my sister. And we had a long talk. I asked her if I could go back in time and change
everything, I would, but she said I shouldn’t. I still came back. But I found out that I was meant
to come back, not to change my evil deeds, not to stop me from betraying everyone...but to make
sure it all happens. It has to happen, no matter what, Krasus.”
“And that’s why you need to see me,” said Krasus. “Because I...”
“Because you would stop me and that cannot happen,” said Neltharion. “Deathwing must
do his horrible acts of evil, even if you and I don’t want it to happen at all.”
He looked around, his eyes darting too and fro.
“My past and evil self is hot on your trail,” he said. “We have to go.”
The ground trembled beneath them and they started off.
“We have to get to the hippogriffs!” said Krasus.
As they came to the hippogriffs upon the ledge, one of them leapt into the air. From
where it stood rose a massive worm with a maw filled with teeth.
“Whoa, not that way!” said Neltharion as he watched the worm swallow the second
hippogriff. He swept his feet and a large boulder rose from the ground. Swinging his tail, he
sent the boulder colliding into the worm’s head. “Move!”
“Can you control that creature?” asked Krasus. “Since you were the one who sent it?”
Neltharion held out a claw to the worm, hoping to call its will to him. But the creature
only snapped its jaws at him when he approached.
“Um...no,” the Earth-Warder replied.
“I see,” said Krasus. They began to walk backwards. “Like my self having my dragon
form, your self has most of your powers.”
“Yep,” said Neltharion. “Looks like it. Run!”
“Scatter!” called Krasus. The three parted. Neltharion paused for a moment and began
stamping his feet, sending the pulsating vibrations through the earth. The worm turned towards
him and moved closer. Krasus and Malfurion stopped, seeing the Black Dragon distract the
worm. Neltharion looked over to see Krasus form a glimmering portal in front of him.
“Prestor!” called Malfurion as Krasus went through. “Let’s go!”
49
“I’ll be fine,” said Neltharion. “Go through the portal, we’ll meet again, Malfurion.”
He continued to stamp his feet, keeping the worm occupied.
“Hurry!”
Krasus and Malfurion rushed through the portal. He stopped and the worm awoke from
its trance. The creature dove for the dragon, its jaws snapping. Neltharion shrank back from the
smell of the acrid beast. Then, with one large inhale, he sprayed his lava upon the worm. The
worm screeched as the lava swiftly set fire to the creature, eating away at its skin. The monster
fell before the dragon. Neltharion looked to the sky and his eyes narrowed. The stars were
coming into alignment.
“It’s almost time,” he whispered. “I better get to the spot where it all happens.”
For the Dragon Soul to be at its peak, the stars had to be in perfect alignment. Neltharion
remembered that much. He grew to his true size and swiftly took flight.
50
Skies are Bright Like Day and Night
FLYING BY NIGHT AND resting during the day, Neltharion kept his cover to the ground. As
the moons took to the sky, he looked again at the positions of the stars. Today was the day, and
he dreaded this day most of all. The Dragon Soul would be a full power, and the fury of his
madness will be unleashed to all. Neltharion sighed as he rose from his rest and yawned. He
took to the sky again, his eyes focusing upon the growing alignment. Then, he looked down,
noticing a growing mist flowing out. Down below, he knew, there was an army of the Burning
Legion. They traveled through this horrible mist they created, spreading death and despair where
they went. But he knew this would pale in comparison to the destruction his younger self will
create. A flash of red flickered in his eyes and he turned. A red dragon dove down into the
forest, battling two black dragons.
“Uh-oh,” he whispered. He dove swiftly towards the three dragons. Just as one was
about to latch its jaws upon the red, Neltharion snatched it up into his claws. His claws dug
deep, instantly killing the creature. And he felt nothing for its death. At long last, he began to
realize that these black dragons were not his flight, not anymore, not from the moment they gave
into the madness. He looked to see the other black dragon entangled with the red. The two
crashed down into the forest below. Neltharion dropped the dead dragon from his claws and
followed, landing in an opening. He uprooted the trees, weeding a path to the red dragon. He
saw the dragon lying deathly still. The other black dragon was limp and he could smell its death.
However, he could feel the soft beat of the red dragon’s heart. Neltharion approached carefully
and dipped his claw down to lift the much smaller dragon’s head. The dragon could almost fit in
both of his claws. His eyes lit up in recognition.
“Korialstrasz!” he called. “No...the younger one. That means...oh...Krasus!”
“Nel...thar..ion...” he heard the red dragon moan. “How...could...you...”
“I’m sorry, I really am sorry,” said Neltharion. “Really. I’ll find Krasus, I’ll find him...”
“No...” said Korialstrasz. Then, he closed his eyes.
“No, no,” whispered Neltharion. “Oh, what did I...Deathwing, damn you to hell! Oh,
Alex is gonna kill me.”
He slammed his foot down upon the ground once more in a rhythmic pattern. Then, he
stopped and listened and felt the vibrations answer him. The vibrations carried with them voices
and images of beings, one leaning down upon another. He could hear their voices and he
recognized them.
“Malfurion,” he whispered. “And Krasus.” He looked to the red dragon. “Hang on,
Korialstrasz. I can get help and stay with you at the same time.”
He closed his eyes and felt a part of himself meld once more with the rock. He found the
spot where he heard the voices and his body began to form from the dirt, the mud, the pieces of
weed that were around them. Malfurion looked back, his eyes wide. He reached for something,
any sort of weapon he could find to fend off this strange creature.
“No!” called Neltharion. “It’s me. Prestor.”
“Prestor?” asked Malfurion. “How...”
“I am the Earth-Warder,” said Neltharion. “It’s what I do. I found Korialstrasz. He is
dying. I’m with him.”
51
“So is Krasus,” said Malfurion. “Korialstrasz is his former self, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” said Neltharion. “And if he dies, so does Krasus.” He settled down upon the
ground. “He will cease to exist.”
“I can heal him,” said Malfurion.
“Whatever you do, do it quickly,” said Neltharion said. He looked to the sky again. “The
world does not have enough time.”
The druid nodded and began to concentrate. He focused upon the scale that linked the
two beings together. Back with Korialstrasz, Neltharion looked down upon the red dragon’s
body, seeing a similar scale upon his body begin to glow. He backed away, watching the golden
glow spread about the dragon’s body. A smile appeared upon his face as the wounds began to
heal.
“I knew you had it in you, greatest druid who ever lived,” he whispered. “Keep doing
it...”
Korialstrasz began to raise his head up as he came back to consciousness. The red dragon
opened his fiery eyes up and focused upon the massive black behemoth who looked to him with
worry.
“Korialstrasz!” called Neltharion. “Alexstrasza doesn’t need to skin me after all.”
The red dragon lifted slowly to his feet, shaking his head. He felt his strength renewed to
him. He turned to the Black Dragon, shaking his head in disbelief as he backed away.
“You...” he said. “You traitor...you...you’ll betray us all...you’ll betray Alexstrasza...”
“Kori, wait,” said Neltharion. “Wait, let me explain.”
“No!” he said. “No, you’re no Earth-Warder, you’re a betrayer!”
“Now, wait a moment!” bellowed the Great Black. Before Korialstrasz could take to the
sky, Neltharion slammed his claw upon him, pinning him down.
“When will your treachery end?” asked Korialstrasz. “She’s your sister! You’re
her...right hand...her advisor...”
“Listen to me!” bellowed Neltharion, his broad voice shaking the ground. He dipped his
head down to show off the metal plates. “Did I have these plates when you last saw me?”
Korialstrasz shook his head.
“Did I?”
“No.”
“You were as tall as my elbow, remember?” asked Neltharion. He lifted the red dragon
up, wrapping a single paw around him. “Now you can fit in my claw. Was I this big when you
saw me?”
“No...” Korialstrasz.
“Krasus,” said Neltharion. “You know who he is now, don’t you? He’s you, isn’t he?”
“How...how do you know?”
“I’m in the same position he is,” he replied. “I’m from the future too. And I am not going
to kill you. I’m sorry I sent my dragons at you, but...that was because...I’m evil right now. You
saw it, you saw what that thing is, the disk, the Dragon Soul. You felt its dark power.”
“How could you create such a thing?”
“Because I am not myself,” he replied. “I am not as you know me, nor will I ever be
for...a very long time. But the madness will end, trust me. It will end, and I’ll be back to my old
52
self...well...sorta. I might have a few loose marbles in my head afterwards. The point is, I won’t
be that maddened monster for long. Okay?”
Korialstrasz nodded, though his eyes still shown with worry and uncertainty.
“Look,” began Neltharion. “If it confuses you too much, call me Prestor. But just trust I
won’t hurt you. However, I don’t have the connection to my flight like my more evil self does.
So, I can’t stop them from attacking you.”
“Is this another trick of Nozdormu?” asked Korialstrasz.
“I’ll say yes and leave it at that,” he replied.
He lowered Korialstrasz to the ground.
“Now that you know, you have to stay with Krasus and I,” said Neltharion. “I can’t let
you take this news back to Alexstrasza.”
“She must know!”
“She can’t,” said Neltharion. “Not until the deed is done. It’s apart of the time line, it has
to happen.”
“So, that means Nozdormu knew too,” said Korialstrasz.
“Yes,” said Neltharion, his head lowering. “He did. And he and I had a long talk about
that.”
“What happened to you?” asked Korialstrasz. “Why do you look like that?”
Neltharion looked up and pointed to the stars: “You see those stars? They are about to
come into alignment in just a few hours. When that happens, my evil former self will direct all
the dragons to focus on the matrix which will allow him to use the Dragon Soul upon the
advancing demons. At the same time, the elves will begin their attack. Then, when Alexstrasza
orders for the matrix to be broken, that is when my former self will reveal his betrayal.” He
turned to Korialstraz. “Every flight except mine gave their power up. My former self will use
the bound power to control you and as he does so, he will begin to swell into the massive giant
you see before you. And then, this will happen.” He held his breath and began to puff himself
out. As he puffed himself out, his scales began to stretch and reveal several of the still glowing
tears upon his body. Korialstrasz backed away, feeling a great heat coming from the tears along
Neltharion’s body. Neltharion exhaled, and many of the rips closed again. “My creator made me
with the core of the world inside my body, when I begin to swell, that core is revealed. And I
cannot contain the power that my body obtains. It literally starts ripping me apart. So, to control
it, I order my goblin forgers to build me an armor, armor that does not keep things out, but keep
that power in. Which is why...I have these plates on my back. My back gets the brunt of it. But
because Alex cured me of my madness, and healed me, I don’t need as many plates. I told her to
keep the plates on my back as a reminder of the past. I don’t want to forget what happened so I
won’t make the same mistake again.” He took in a deep breath. “In several more weeks’ time,
another event will happen, one that has to happen as well. You, I, and Krasus will make sure it
does happen.”
He rose to his feet and spread his massive wings. Korialstrasz gasped, seeing how they
literally blocked the night sky.
“Come on, I’ll take you to Krasus,” he said.
53
The two dragons took to the skies and down below, Krasus, Malfurion, and the mud
Neltharion traveled on the ground. They filed their way through the forest. Neltharion could
sense his true body flying towards them.
“I’m coming,” he said.
“The evil you or...” began Malfurion.
“The good me,” said Neltharion. “The me that sent me.”
“Oh, thank the gods then,” said Malfurion.
“I cannot believe that Deathwing knows you’re here!” said Krasus. “How could you let
yourself know about yourself?”
“I didn’t tell him anything,” said Neltharion. “He thinks I’m some rogue black dragon he
can’t control.”
“When he puts on the armor, it’ll be all too clear as to who you are, Prestor!” said Krasus.
“One look in the mirror, and he will know!”
“And I’m hoping that his madness is so great that he’ll forget,” said Neltharion. “Now,
can we drop it? Nozdormu already beat me over the head with that. He punched me too.”
“You met Nozdormu?” asked Krasus.
“Twice,” said Neltharion.
“And why hasn’t he come to pick Rhonin and I up?”
“Because you two are an integral part of what is about to occur,” said Neltharion.
“You’re not going to tell us what, are you?”
“Well,” began Neltharion. “He didn’t hint on that. Only that you help me save a few blue
dragons.”
“And how will we do that?” asked Krasus as he fumbled over a rock. Neltharion caught
him.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “Which is why I kinda alerted Malygos of my treachery and
told him to send a few blue dragons to the north...since he’s going to end up there anyways.”
“You what?” Krasus asked. “Did Deathwing take all your sense when he left your head?”
“You know,” Neltharion began. “Everyone keeps asking me that.”
“I don’t believe this...you told Malygos?” asked Krasus.
“He won’t do anything,” said Neltharion. “Don’t worry. And at least he won’t be lonely
up there.”
“I am going to ring your neck,” growled Krasus. “I will pull every plate from your back
when I see you.”
“Good luck, Khadgar already tried,” chuckled the Great Black.
Krasus pulled upon his hair, his face contorting in his anger. Malfurion placed his hand
upon the mage’s shoulder.
“Calm yourself,” he said.
“His stupidity is pissing me off!” growled Krasus.
“My stupidity?” asked Neltharion, arching his neck.
“Your stupidity!” called Krasus. “If you didn’t feel the need to come back here and
correct your mistakes, none of this would happen.”
54
“Oh, and what the hell were you doing?” the Earth-Warder asked. “Why do you think I
put that geas on you and Malfurion? So you two could share a bond of silence together? My
evil self didn’t want you to tell anyone about what he was going to do. And rightly so!”
Krasus stomped his foot: “I was only trying to save our own damned species!”
“Why do you think I was here trying to fix everything?” Neltharion asked, snapping his
jaws. “Just to be cheeky? My flight is nearly gone, I was trying to save it. And in tern, also save
everyone else. But by doing so, things would not happen, things that needed to happen. I’m not
the idiot, you are!”
“You are a selfish child!”
“Child?” Neltharion asked, leaned back up, his brows arched. “I’m forty thousand years
older than you!” He paused, turning away. “You want to know why I came back here? I came
back here because you were here! I came back here with the idea that maybe if I stopped myself,
I could save you! Call that selfish, fine, but I was saving your life.”
“Save me?” asked Krasus. “From what?”
“From me,” said Neltharion. He shut his eyes tightly and let loose a heavy sigh. “One
year ago, in my time, I, as Deathwing, unleash a plague inside the Crimson Sanctuary. That
plague turns all Alexstrasza’s eggs into twilight and chromatic dragons.”
Krasus held his breath, his eyes became wide.
“In order to stop the spread of corruption to the other eggs, you sacrifice yourself by
blowing up the sanctuary,” Neltharion said. “You die. Alexstrasza, in her grief destroys
Wyrmrest. Then, she is found by Thrall...”
“The Warchief?”
“He isn’t the Warchief anymore,” he said. “He becomes known a the World Shaman,
seeking alliance with the Earthen Ring, in order to quell the maddening elementals I send forth in
the Cataclysm.”
“Cataclysm?”
“Cataclysm,” said Neltharion. “I become known as the Worldbreaker. I break the World
Pillar and the planet itself begins to break apart. Then I kill you. Thrall finds Alex and shows
her what really happened, she sets aside her grief and rejoins the Accord. Thrall and the other
Aspects then find Archbishop Benedictus, who betrayed Varian Wrynn to become the Father, one
of the leaders of the Twilight Hammers. Through Deathwing’s power, he creates a five headed
dragon from the essence of all five dragon flights. Thrall, Ysera, Alexstrasza, Nozdormu...and
the new Spell-Weaver combine their powers to face this dragon. That is when Thrall connects to
me, the real me, my spirit, trapped inside my own body by that evil monster known as
Deathwing.” He took in his breath. “And I impart my power to Thrall to give him the ability to
fight against that draconic monster. Because of your death, Thrall had the means to help
Alexstrasza bring me back from my madness. Your death has a meaning even more so than you
think or than Alexstrasza thinks.” He lowered his head. “Your death helped me and I felt a
personal grievance because of it. I felt that I could do you a favor, maybe you don’t have to die
and I won’t have to be evil. I would kill two birds with one stone. But my evilness is necessary
right now. It has to happen. And your death has to happen as well.”
“But our species...”
55
“Will live on,” said Neltharion. “Maybe not as many as it used to be, but we will live on.
I managed to save some of my flight. I saved them from my madness. Not many, though. All
the other flights still outnumber mine.” His brow arched. “I wanted to come back because I love
my sister and I’ve caused her so much...anguish by my...selfish paranoid acts. It costed her so
much to loose you...”
The mage ran a shaking hand through his hair, trying to digest all what the future EarthWarder had just told him. He looked up at Neltharion. There was indeed a change in him. He
looked pained by all the evil he had caused over the thousands of years as Deathwing. And that
pain was genuine. But to Krasus, he looked like a completely different being altogether. The
colorful feathers braided into his long mutton chops, a simple of shamanism. He almost looked
like he had reached a new peace in his own heart. Still, the results of his horrible deeds
remained.
“Thank you...for telling me, Neltharion,” said Krasus. “But you shouldn’t have.”
“I’ve learned something,” said the Earth-Warder. “I can tell anyone about their future all I
want, so long as they choose not to act upon certain events...then the timeline is preserved. As
long as you say nothing to Alexstrasza about your death and you do not stop it...”
“The timeline is preserved,” said Krasus. “You will not tell me when.”
“I will not,” said Neltharion. “I told you how, the when is different.”
“Alright,” said Krasus. “I’m...sorry for calling you stupid. You’re an Aspect, I should
show some more...respect.”
“I don’t care about the title anymore, Krasus,” said Neltharion. “I care about my job. I
was created for a purpose, and I aim to fulfill that purpose. Okay?”
“O...okay...” said Krasus.
“Okay,” whispered Neltharion. “I feel better, getting that off my chest.” He turned to
Malfurion. “Not a word of this to anyone.”
“My lips are sealed, Prestor,” said the druid.
“Thank you,” said Neltharion. “Oh, well, here I am.” He turned to see the others almost
reading themselves for a fight. “The good me!”
With that, the mud avatar crumbled. The mighty Black Dragon landed softly to the
ground. Following him was a much smaller red dragon.
“Korialstrasz!” called Krasus, running up to greet the red dragon.
“Krasus!” said Korialstrasz. The two paused and studied each other. “It is true, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is,” said Krasus.
“Then I am more than thrilled to see you,” he said. “And...I brought...”
“Prestor,” said Krasus. “I know. I know who he is too.”
“This will be a story I would tell my young someday, but I don’t think they’ll believe
me,” said Korialstrasz.
“Best not do that,” said Neltharion. “Or Alexstrasza.”
“Right,” said Korialstrasz. “It’s hard to believe though that he would betray us.”
“I know,” said Krasus. “We must return to Rhonin and the others. Will you take us
there?”
“Of course, climb aboard!” the red dragon dipped down and the two climbed to his back.
He turned to Neltharion. “Will you follow us as well, Prestor?”
56
“Uh, well...” Neltharion began. “I...don’t know if I should...”
“It wouldn’t be much of a reunion of the future people if you didn’t,” said Krasus. “And
after the damage we’ve all done, I don’t think it matters any. Just...don’t call yourself the EarthWarder.”
“Why do you think I’m calling myself Prestor?” asked Neltharion. “But it would be
confusing to see a dragon with big metal plates on his back, only to find him later on attacking
them...”
“You don’t look too much like yourself,” said Malfurion. “If you’ve managed to fool
yourself twice.”
“Didn’t fool anyone else,” said Neltharion. “Fine. Why not? Love to see the look on
Tyrande’s face too.” He leapt into the air. “Let’s go!”
“He is an odd one,” said Malfurion as Korialstrasz followed the enormous Black.
“That’s how Neltharion used to act like,” said Krasus. “He was the snark of the family.”
As the two dragons flew onward, the ground suddenly became covered a thick, gray mist.
Neltharion whistled to the others, pointing down at the growing fog.
“I see,” said Krasus. “The Legion is advancing.”
“Won’t be long now,” said Neltharion. He looked to the stars again. “The time is almost
right.”
“As I fear,” said Krasus. “He’s going to see you flying around.”
“He’s going to see you too,” said Neltharion. “We’re both boned if he does.”
“Agreed,” said Krasus.
“I have an idea,” said Neltharion. “Let’s cause a little chaos for the army down there.
Maybe buy some time.”
“What?” Krasus asked as the massive dragon banked down towards the fog. His body
dove in and suddenly the fog itself lit up with a fiery light. Korialstrasz dove in as well. He
could barely see through the fog, but he saw the fiery light scatter. He heard the sound of roaring
demons and then Neltharion lifted above the fog. A sweep of his massive wings and the fog
cleared slightly. Korialstrasz looked through the clearing down to see a swath of molten rock
and burnt dead demons. Still, even after that attack, there was no end to the Legion. Another
wave rushed in and replaced the dead. Neltharion banked again for another attack, the inside of
his mouth glowing with white-hot fire. Doomguards followed him and Korialstrasz dove into
the fight. He snapped his jaws upon one, crushing the attacker, only to spit the remains out in
disgust. Malfurion called forth a torrent of vines from his pouch, catching a few of the demons.
Many of them began to hack and slash their way free, however, one fell, impaled upon a thorn.
Neltharion spun around with incredible agility, folding his wings in. The demons latched to his
back, banging upon the elementium. However, their efforts hardly made a mark in the armor.
Neltharion swooped over in a roll, knocking the demons off his back from the force. He laughed
as he spun, spreading his wings wide as he came about. It had been a while since he flew so
swiftly and freely. He dove back in and released his powerful lava breath. Korialstrasz blinked
for a moment, slightly confused by the lava that Neltharion produced. The little red dragon
could not remember when the Great Black ever used such a weapon before. He rolled away just
as the spray came close to him, nearly singing his wing tip. Krasus held as tight as he could,
feeling the dragon swing away from the searing mix of fire and molten rock. Malfurion
57
58
swallowed, bracing himself upon his back. Neltharion made for another dive, folding in his
black wings and his jaws parted again, releasing his lava upon the leading edge of the second
wave. He almost laughed at the thrill to be fighting evil once again. To release his lava upon his
enemies, Neltharion felt lighthearted joy thumping inside his chest. Eradar broke their ranks,
ducking away from the fiery rush. Those who could not were instantly incinerated. They called
upon their dark magic and focused their power upon the much larger dragon. With the force of
their black spells, they knocked Neltharion out of the sky. The Black Aspect bellowed, crashing
upon the burnt earth. He shook off the fall, rising up to his feet. Neltharion watched as the
Legion began to close in on him. They circled in from all sides, brandishing their poisoned
blades.
“Bad move,” he rumbled. “You’re touching the ground and so am I.”
He splayed his claws out and the ground under the advancing demons changed, becoming
almost like a liquid. As if the earth itself held no more substance to hold them, the demons fell
through it, disappearing underneath. The Eradar focused their powers again and cast their spells.
Neltharion nearly toppled over from the force of the fell energy they rammed him with. He
roared, fanning a wing to shield himself. The knuckles of his wings began to glow as their spells
tore through the skin. Tiny holes began to form through the membranes. Then, Korialstrasz
dove forth above him and circled behind the Eradar. He released his flames upon them, burning
away the Eradar while Krasus cast a counter spell to negate their force. Neltharion lowered his
wing. Korialstrasz circled again, flying over his head.
“Come on!” he heard Krasus called. The Great Black spread his wings again and
ignoring the sting of one, took to the sky once more. Another wave was heading right for them.
Neltharion prepared to dive, releasing a wave of his lava upon the third wave.
Korialstrasz dove as well, joining his fire with the Earth-Warder’s lava. They cleared a
wide line of the ground troops with their attacks. But the Burning Legion always had more in
waiting. Neltharion banked as a missile spun by him. Another impacted upon his wing, little
more than a mosquito biting the membrane. He growled and pushed upward above the fog once
more, releasing his breath again.
“I think we’ve got them thinned out, Korialstrasz!” he called, looking at his side again.
The little red dragon was no where to be found. “Krasus? Malfurion?” He paused and heard the
sound of a roar coming from the fog. “Titans damn it!”
Diving back down towards the fog, he swiftly made for the roar. Then, the mist began to
thin. Neltharion found the smaller red spinning and finally leveling out. Korialstrasz made a
triumphant bellow as the demons themselves seemed to looking on with some unease and
confusion. As the fog continued to thin, they began their retreat.
“Damn it!” Neltharion said as he pumped towards them. “Don’t scare me like that again.
Give me a heart attack, and I’m old enough as it is!”
Korialstrasz laughed: “Look at them, fleeing from us! They have soon learned never to
contend with dragons!”
Krasus looked al around him, taking note of the fog suddenly thinning. The demons were
not running from the two dragons attacking them, they were running from something else
entirely.
“The fog,” said Krasus. “Neltharion, the fog!”
59
“Fog, what fog?” asked Neltharion looking around. His eyes searched the air, realizing
how clear it now was. “It’s gone...it’s...oh...shit.”
“I’m having a sense of deja vu,” said Krasus.
Neltharion was silent, his eyes wide. The fog was clearing and he knew the cause.
“I smell them!” said Korialstrasz. “I smell all of them, Krasus!
“I sense them too,” said Krasus. “Prestor?”
“Remind me again why I can’t go over there and punch myself in the face, Krasus,” said
Neltharion.
“Because this has to happen,” said Krasus.
“Yeah, that. Just keep reminding me of that.”
“What’s happening?” asked Korialstrasz.
“What’s happening?” Neltharion repeated. He looked to the stars. They were finally
aligned. “The other dragons are coming, and I and my Dragon Soul...are leading the charge.” He
swung his head around to the smaller red dragon and his passengers. “We have to hide!”
“Agreed,” said Krasus.
60
This is Bad Comedy
“ALL MUST KNEEL before me, now!” Deathwing bellowed, finally revealing his treachery.
All about him, demons and whatever Night Elves that were left knelt. The others still looked on
with confusion. However, down below, his much older, and much, much larger self, watched,
tied to the ground by vines.
“Yeah, just...just keep me tied,” said Neltharion. “That guy sucks, that guy sucks so
much. I wanna rip him apart right now! Look at him, look at him, so smug. I’m gonna squish
him! How dare he do this to Alex, to Malygos, to Ysera!” He struggled against his bindings.
One wing remained unbound with Korialstrasz, Krasus, and Malfurion hiding underneath.
Because Neltharion was immune to the beam of the Dragon Soul, they used him as a shield
whenever his younger self burned away
at those who opposed him. The Dragon
Soul flared and another wave of light
rushed the ground, impacting upon the
massive black dragon.
The others
ducked close to his flank, still protected
by his immunity. Neltharion slammed
his head upon the ground and then
muffled his own screams of protest. “I
wanna kill him so much!”
“You kill him, you cease to
exist,” said Krasus.
“I don’t care!” Neltharion
bellowed. He swung his head around.
“You don’t understand what it feels like
to sit back and do nothing as that monster
hurts your own family...and you know
what he does with me inside my own
mind? Horrors unspeakable it would
make your grandchildren cry!”
“Hence the enormous hatred you
have for this other personality of yours,” said Korialstrasz. His golden eyes turned back to the
frozen dragons above, focusing upon the great form of his queen. “Yes, I can share your anger.”
Neltharion growled and winced again when he heard Alexstrasza call out.
“There is no one among us who has committed more heinous crimes than you!” she said.
“Neltharion, this is not you! You always sought to make the world one of peace and harmony...”
“And I will, when all obey me, there will be no more chaos, no more war!” Deathwing
called.
Neltharion slammed his head against the ground again. He lifted his head to the sky:
“You’re a fat, fucking liar!”
Korialstrasz leapt upon the Black Dragon’s mouth, shutting it immediately. Neltharion
growled again, snorting out a plume of black smoke from his nostrils.
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“We have to do something,” he said to the others. “He has Alexstrasza prisoner!”
Neltharion knocked the red dragon from his head. The little red dragon rolled onto the
ground. He pulled his restraints taunt, hearing a few vines snap under the stress.
“No, he is too powerful,” said Krasus. “Deathwing cannot be defeated so long as he holds
the Demon Soul.”
“Demon Soul?” asked Korialstrasz, rising up. “I have to agree, such a device would have
been made by the Legion.”
“Been made by worse creatures,” said Neltharion. “With tentacles.” He huffed again.
“Do you mind letting me up? I’m done. I’m done.”
Malfurion nodded and touched the ground near the dragon’s body. Neltharion felt the
vines weakening around him and he extended his massive, leathery wings. The vines snapped,
prying away as he rose to his feet. His tail thumped the ground, sending a tremor rolling into the
dirt. Malfurion and Krasus ducked as the Great Black shifted his weight, the ground continued
to quake beneath them. He turned his head down to the smaller individuals at his feet.
Malfurion’s eyes shifted to Krasus.
“What can we do?”
“The disk is not invulnerable,” said Krasus. “Deathwing is the key.”
“Destroy it?” asked Malfurion.
Neltharion’s eyes then lit up: “Wait...”
“But we could use it to save my people,” said Malfurion.
“No,” said Krasus. “Druid, that disk cannot be used by any of us. The evil inside of it is
too great it would corrupt any wielder who touches it.”
“Except for me,” said Neltharion.
“What?” asked Krasus. “What are you saying? It’s corrupting you now!”
“If you haven’t noticed, I’m already corrupted!” Neltharion bellowed, pointing at himself
in the sky. “And do not destroy it! It cannot be destroyed, not now.”
“Why?” asked Krasus.
“Because...”
“Because why?”
“Because we...need to use it in my time,” said Neltharion. “And...those events have to
happen, including...well...” He eyes looked wet and Krasus swallowed, knowing what he meant.
“I’m sorry, again.”
“You keep saying that,” said Krasus.
“I mean every word,” said the Earth-Warder.
“What happens?” asked Korialstrasz, swinging his head to his more older self.
“You don’t...want to know,” said Krasus. “Not yet anyway.”
“I am...immune to the whispers now,” said Neltharion. “It has to do with my connection
to Thrall, and my love to Calia...”
“Calia?” asked Krasus. “There’s only one Calia I know of...and that’s...” His eyes darting
away.
“I’m still married to her,” said Neltharion, smiling sweetly. “She is my love...like
Alexstrasza is yours. She is my world, Krasus. And her love and Thrall’s friendship keeps me
from...becoming him again. With that, I was able to use the Dragon Soul one last time against a
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creature I created that would have killed all five of us. The Dragon Soul was the only thing that
could destroy it.”
“I see,” said Krasus. “But there is another reason.”
“A really bad one,” said Neltharion. “A third event that must happen that the Demon Soul
helps to create.”
“And what is that?” Krasus asked.
“Turning this continent into four,” the Earth-Warder replied.
Krasus’ eyes lit up, realizing exactly what he had implied. However, before he could
interject a protest, the red dragon roared.
“I can’t stand anymore of this!” called Korialstrasz. “We have to do something.”
“Something,” said Krasus. “If the Demon Soul cannot be destroyed, it must be taken
away from its wielder.”
“That, I agree,” said Neltharion. “Korialstrasz, go up there and kick my ass.”
“Gladly, Neltharion,” said Korialstrasz, dipping his head swiftly. He launched into the
air, shooting up towards where the young Earth-Warder still was making his evil monolog.
Neltharion chuckled, looking back down at Krasus.
“You are a hothead, Krasus,” he said.
“The years have mellowed me,” said Krasus.
“Did they?”
“Shut up...”
“And I thought I had the temper,” said Neltharion, still chuckling.
“Shut up!”
“We have to go!” said Malfurion. “My people need me! Prestor, can you take us there?”
“Sure,” said Neltharion. “Get on and hold tight. It’s probably best we not stay on the
ground any longer than we need.”
“Why?” asked Krasus. Malfurion began to take a foot hold upon the Black Dragon’s
scales, climbing up the side of his foreleg. Krasus then followed, catching his feet carefully on
some of the sparse plates holding one of the glowing rips in Neltharion’s scales together. They
settled themselves between his wings, looking nothing more than two specs on the metal plates.
He turned to the sky, seeing the battle between his younger self and the former Earth-Warder.
Korialstrasz clawed at Deathwing, trying to grab the Dragon Soul from him. The much larger
Black Dragon slung him away and roared, spitting his fire upon him. They locked claws again as
they collided. Deathwing kicked off and slammed his tail into Korialstrasz. The red dragon
spun into a dive, opening his wings out to catch himself. Once more, he rose into the air, ready
to strike at the Betrayer again.
Neltharion looked up, hearing his other self bellow: “You are no longer amusing, young
Korialstrasz! Enslavement is too good for you...”
With that, his younger self blazed with the glow of the Dragon Soul. His laughter echoed
in the darkness. And as he laughed, his body began to swell out of proportion. The older
Neltharion flexed his wings and took to the sky. Krasus and Malfurion held tightly to the
elementium plates on his back.
“No reason,” he replied to Krasus question.
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“Your transformation!” said Krasus, looking back at the brilliant light engulfing the
younger Neltharion. “But that will mean...”
“One giant volcano...” said Neltharion. “Right where we stood!” He turned his head to
his passengers. “Unless you both want a nice lava bath...”
“No thank you!” both of them shouted.
“Huh, really?” Neltharion asked. “Lava baths are rather relaxing.”
“Just fly!” said Krasus. “And out of sight of your...evil self.”
Neltharion paused in his flight, turning back to see his former self grow and grow. He
was watching it, from the outside now, his transformation from the Earth-Warder to the Black
Scourge. It was all happening in a few minutes. His passengers took to his head, sitting down
between his massive horns.
“Keep watching,” said Neltharion. “You two need to see this.”
“First the Burning Legion, and now this...” said Malfurion. He looked down to watch as
the earth below began to buckle. Demons and Night Elves scattered as the earth itself opened
up, releasing the fire of molten rock from below. Lava fountains shot forth into the sky as hot
steam broke through the rock. Trees fell ablaze. And he who was once Neltharion continued to
swell and grow.
“Insects!” he bellowed. “You are all nothing but insects!”
“This is bad comedy,” said Neltharion, watching with no amusement in his tone. His
mouth drew a taunt line across his face.
His former self’s crystals began to melt from his back as a rip formed on his chest.
“Ah, there it is,” he said to his passengers. “A rip. See?”
More rips followed, revealing the fiery, molten core that lay beneath his black scales.
The beard on his chin burned away in the heat. His green eyes flashed, becoming like two fiery
orbs, holding no more goodness, no more sanity inside. His chest opened wide, rips forming
along his legs and wings. More rips even formed along his back. And Neltharion looked to
Malfurion.
“Now you know why I wear the plates,” he said.
“You’re ripping apart!” said Malfurion.
“We joke about this a lot,” he chuckled. “I’m becoming too fat for my scales!”
Malfurion looked down to see the rushing lava coming for his people: “We have to do
something!”
Neltharion growled and dove for the ground. Angling back out, he clapped his claws and
exhaled. The land itself fell away, forming a trench between the lava and a few of the Night
Elves. Lava began to pour in, filling the trench quickly.
“How’s that?” he asked.
“Good!” said Malfurion.
“Hang on,” he commanded. “The show isn’t over till the other fat dragon sings.”
With that, he moved his claws in a fluid motion, and the rest of the lava obeyed. It rose
up higher and higher into a thin wall of fiery rock. Neltharion gave a might flap to his wings and
the gush of wind quickly solidified the rest of the molten rock into black glass. The Great Black
landed, standing upon the volcanic glass. He looked back to see his more evil self calling upon
the glow of the Dragon Soul again. Then, he turned to see Korialstrasz flee from Deathwing’s
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power. Neltharion slammed a foot into the ground, raising a slab of rock. Once more, with a
swing of his tail, he sent the rock flying, colliding with Deathwing. The other Great Black broke
the rock, his attention turned away from the fleeing red dragon. He looked to see now the being
he called the Rogue standing there amid a sheet of volcanic glass.
“You!” he bellowed.
“Oh, bad idea!” said Neltharion.
“He saw you,” said Krasus. “Fly, now!”
“I will kill you, traitor!” Deathwing bellowed. “You do not belong to my flight!”
Neltharion flew off and Deathwing flew after him. His mind now occupied, he forgot to
keep hold of the spell that held the others. Alexstrasza, now freed, saw the being who her
traitorous brother was now following. The other massive black dragon flew swiftly passed her
and she caught a glimpse of Krasus upon his plated back. Not only that, but a glimpse of the
black dragon’s eyes.
“Neltharion?” she asked. “Two...of them?”
“Rogue, I will have you!” Deathwing bellowed.
“You’re all steam and no fire!” Neltharion bellowed back.
“Not helping with you talking to yourself like that,” called Krasus. “He’s going figure it
out!”
“Two Neltharions?” asked Alexstrasza. “Two of them? How? Wait...like there is two
Korialstrasz. But...that one...”
“Can you feel it, sister?” asked Malygos, flying up to her. “One good, the other evil.”
“Another trick of Nozdormu?” Alexstrasza. “But why?”
“I haven’t a foggiest, sister,” he said. “But maybe someday we’ll find out why. I’m going
to distract him while our faithful brother saves Krasus. Come, we must make our brother pay for
his treachery!”
With that, he commanded his flight to attack.
Upon Neltharion’s back, Malfurion was sending his silent message to Tyrande. Krasus
looked behind him to see Malygos attacking.
“No!” he called. “Neltharion, Malygos is attacking Deathwing.”
“I...I know...” said Neltharion. “Remember, a few of them have been saved.”
“Yes,” he said. “Saved.” He looked behind his shoulder to see his mate still watching
with saddened eyes.
“Prestor,” said Malfurion. “Land there!”
The Great Black banked off, landing in a clearing. There, he saw Tyrande. And see saw
him with widened eyes. However, he did not make any greeting to her, only leaning down to
allow his riders off. Malfurion fell into her arms and they held each other closely. Neltharion
looked back to see his former self slaughter many of Malygos’ flight. And Malygos himself
watching with horror. Then, with one shot of the Dragon Soul, the Spell-Weaver was sent flying
over the hills. Neltharion dropped to his knees, burying his face in the dirt, sobbing. His body
shook with each sob, tears flowed into puddles from his eyes. He toppled over, causing the
ground to shake with his fall. The Earth-Warder curled up, his tail between his legs, reaching his
head. He folded a wing over his body and his whimpering muffled. Yet, Krasus could still hear
his wailing, and his heart also dropped to his knees. Malfurion parted, hearing the sound of the
65
Black Dragon’s weeping. With Tyrande in hand, he circled the large dragon. Krasus came to
Neltharion’s head.
“Now that he is Deathwing,” he began. “What shall we call you?”
Neltharion lifted his head from his wing, staring with dripping eyes at the mage.
“Mud...” he replied, his voice broken by his sobs. “My name is Mud!”
Tyrande looked to Malfurion who shook his head.
“No,” said the druid. “It’s Neltharion, the Earth-Warder.”
“And he,” said Krasus, looking to the other black dragon, flying away. “He is the Black
Scourge, the Aspect of Death.”
“Xaxas,” said Malfurion. “That is what we should call him, Xaxas.”
“Xaxas...” said Tyrande. “Deathwing.”
Neltharion lifted his head up, wiping his dripping nose: “The...Worldbreaker.”
Tyrande looked to him, focusing upon his green eyes. Seeing the purity inside of him,
she nodded in agreement to the name he gave the horrid black dragon who killed many of her
people.
“The Worldbreaker,” she said. “Come, all of you. We must return to Lord Ravencrest.”
“You go on ahead,” said Neltharion as he rose to his feet. He wiped his eyes.
“Why?” asked Krasus.
“Because I have to find Korialstrasz for you,” said Neltharion. “I...I owe him that
much...after shooting him.”
“Find him,” said Krasus. “And then find us. I don’t want to lose you too.”
“You won’t lose me,” said Neltharion. He spread his wings and took off.
Krasus took in a deep breath and turned to the others.
“Come, let’s get to Ravencrest.”
66
When it Rains it Pours
HE FOUND KORIALSTRASZ within a few hours, combing up and down the slope of the
newly birthed volcano. The red dragon laid upon his side, his scales looking a little singed from
the beam of the Demon Soul. Neltharion waved his claws, spreading the lava away from the red
dragon, seeing it threaten to send him along the flow. He landed upon the ground and felt the
dragon’s body, checking for life. The red dragon breathed softly and the Great Black smiled with
relief. He gathered the young dragon up in his claws, leaning back to his haunches. Turning his
head towards the sky, he heard the sound of thunder rolling through the choking ash clouds
above. Lightning flashed, lighting up the darkness. They were surrounded on all sides by
molten river of rock slowing flowing around them. Their island of safety slowly began to break
away at the edges, sending loose rock down stream. Korialstrasz moaned as Neltharion lifted
him up.
“P-Prestor,” he whispered, preferring to use that name instead of calling him the name of
he who betrayed all.
“You look a little well done, Kori,” said Neltharion. “Need me to stick a fork in you to
make sure?”
“What?” Korialstrasz asked, lifting his head to the larger Black Dragon.
“Never mind,” Neltharion chuckled. “A human saying I learned.”
He slid his foot out and by his command, the lava rushed away. As if he was parting the
water around him, he directed the lava in waves away from them. Laying the dragon down,
Neltharion gave a flap of his wings and the lava solidified into a curved formation of black glass.
He lifted up, taking the dragon into his claws again and then launched into the air. He held
firmly, yet gently to the smaller dragon. Neltharion slowly flew through the air, surveying the
damage done. The sulfuric smell of the volcano drowned out the smell of death. Neltharion
growled uncomfortably, hearing the discord and agonizing song Deathwing inflicted upon the
planet. He began to feel even weaker than before as the planet’s weight made his body heavier.
He flapped slowly, struggling to stay aloft himself. Korialstrasz looked up at the Great Black,
taking note of his pained expression.
“Are you injured, Prestor?” he asked.
“The planet is injured,” Neltharion in a pained rumble. “And I can feel the pain.”
He spied a cool, dark patch of rock away from the volcano started his descent.
Korialstrasz, concentrating upon Krasus. He could feel the mage searching for him. He could
feel Krasus’ relief in his reply, which relaxed him. Neltharion landed upon the ground, calling
upon a slab of granite with a stomp of his hind foot. He laid the red dragon down upon the slab
as gently as he could. Korialstrasz looked up at him again, seeing the frozen pained expression
upon his face again. He watched as Neltharion laid upon his side, breathing heavily.
“I have contacted Krasus,” said Korialstrasz.
“Hope he gets here...” Neltharion rumbled. He curled up again feeling his heart begin to
pound inside his chest. The song’s discord begins to ring into his ears. The red dragon lifted his
head, seeing the Great Black’s wings tremble slightly. He heard Neltharion begin to hum softly
and for a moment, he thought he could feel the rock beneath his own body vibrate as if it was
coming to life.
67
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Shhhh...” Neltharion hissed back. “Just...be quiet for a moment.”
He started his hum again and the vibrations continued. Korialstrasz laid his head to the
ground, pressing his ear hold to the slab of rock. He could hear the sound of Neltharion’s hum
through the rock, but the vibrations felt like they were answering it. To Neltharion, his hum was
more than just that, but a tone itself, quelling what discord he heard through the rock of this land.
Volcanoes were integral parts of the life of the planet, but the creation of this one was not one of
good, but one of evil. It was an open wound upon the planet, not a source of renewal, or a
regulation of heat to keep the planet from freezing to death. However, it existed and Neltharion
was soothing it. Korialstrasz herd the sound of the volcano rumble as it spewed forth its ash and
lava. Lightning continued to flash into the sky.
“A corruption of the great power you were granted...” he said.
Neltharion lifted his head to the little red dragon: “No. Volcanoes are the raw power of
the planet, a symbol that it is alive. Without them, this world would be dead...and cold. You
would not exist. They are destructive, but they serve a purpose.”
“Are you...trying to destroy this one?” he asked.
“No,” he replied. “I am only soothing it.”
“Soothing it...”
“Shhh...” said Neltharion. “Now, let me do my job...I cannot have any other noises.”
“Forgive me, Earth-Warder,” he said.
“There is a massive plume under here...” whispered Neltharion. “I’m hoping it is rather
loose. The low viscosity will only produce more lava, but at least we won’t have any massive
explosion.” He felt a slight rise in the ground that they laid upon and another vent opened up,
spewing forth steam from underground. “Ground water...being heated by the plume.” He
continued to hum once more. The volcano echoed his rumblings. Neltharion lifted his head and
smiled weakly. “There...there. Let it continue it’s eruption, it will stop in a day or two.” He then
looked back to Korialstrasz. “We were lucky this was a cinder cone and not a stratovolcano.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Stratovolcanoes, when they clear their throats,” he began. “Blow their tops off
completely. No lava is involved, but instead a violent serge of hot debris rolling down the
mountain, traveling faster than any flying creature alive. Only dragons may be able to stay ahead
of the serge. The serge incinerates all that it touches, but this volcano...viscous lava and slow
moving. A Night Elf could walk faster.”
“But it is destructive,” said Korialstrasz. “You...he...Neltharion caused a lot of destruction
with this fiery mountain.”
“He caused more destruction by forming it, releasing the pent-up gasses below the
surface,” he said. “The best thing to do is just let it do its thing. The volcano will build its top
and then it’ll stop.” Neltharion rumbled. “Don’t think of the volcano as a force of evil, but rather
he who used it as such...that was evil. It isn’t the volcano’s fault, it was Deathwing’s. Creating it
wasn’t a perversion of his power, Korialstrasz, nor an anthesis, but his reasoning to use that force
was.”
“I suppose, I understand the role the Earth-Warder plays,” said Korialstrasz. “But what he
has done here...”
68
“What he has done is unspeakable,” said Neltharion. “That I agree.”
He winced again, laying down on his side. He placed his claw on the rock and closed his
eyes once more, feeling vibrations of familiar footsteps traveling closer to them.
“Krasus is heading here,” he said.
“How...how can you tell?” asked the red dragon.
“Everyone steps differently as they walk upon the ground,” Neltharion replied. “It is like
a fingerprint, you walk differently, I walk differently. The vibrations Krasus makes as he walks
have a distinct feel. Trust me, he is heading here. But he is alone.”
“Alone?”
“Malfurion is not with him,” he said. “Nor is Tyrande. Something has happened...”
Thunder boomed in the sky and Neltharion looked up.
“That was not the static discharge of an ash cloud,” he said. “Thunder clouds...”
Lightning flashed once more and the thunder rolled on. Suddenly it began to rain.
Neltharion looked up, feeling the rain pelt hard and cold upon his scales. He looked to
Korialstrasz, who was still slumped upon the slab of rock. The Great Black rose to his haunches
and slammed his foot down, causing thee sharp rocks to jut forth. The rocks closed above them,
creating a stone shelter.
“Better?” he asked the red dragon.
“Much, thank you, Prestor,” said Korialstrasz.
Neltharion looked to the little dragon’s wound.
“Let’s have a look,” he said, touching the burned flank. Korialstrasz growled, sensing the
tenderness of the afflicted area. Neltharion rumbled. “It could have been worse. You could have
been vaporized.”
“Lucky for me,” said Korialstrasz.
“I can’t heal you,” said Neltharion. “But I can ease the burn.”
With a slow, fluid motion of his claw, Neltharion called forth a stream of water from the
rain. The water covered his paw and hardened, becoming an icy glove. He lowered his claw
upon the dragon’s flank. Korialstrasz growled, shocked by the sudden cold, but then relaxed,
finding the cool ice soothing.
“You can manipulate water?” he asked.
“I discovered that I can manipulate all forms of matter and the heat that makes it,” said
Neltharion. “Heat, ice is created by the manipulation of heat, or rather the absence of it. The
molten lava is a liquid form of rock created by enormous heat. Air can become solid when it
cools. There you go...”
“I suppose,” he said. “Just keep talking to me, keep my mind off the pain.”
“I’ll try,” Neltharion chuckled.
He turned his head when he sensed someone
approaching. “Though, I won’t have to. Krasus is here.”
Krasus came through the opening and shook of the rain. He glanced behind his shoulder,
hearing the sound of the wind begin to howl outside.
“This storm is not natural,” he said. He looked around the rock shelter. “Convenient,
Neltharion.”
“Drier than outside, at least,” said Neltharion.
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Krasus saw Korialstrasz and a smile of relief spread upon his lips. Walking over to the
dragon, he placed a hand upon his neck.
“There you are,” he said. “There you are. Safe and sound.”
“I almost wasn’t,” said Korialstrasz.
“He got nicked,” said Neltharion. “And almost burnt to a crisp, but he’ll live, at least.”
“Thank the Aspects,” sighed Krasus.
“Only one Aspect,” said Neltharion with a grin, lifting his icy paw from Korialstrasz.
“Right,” said Krasus. “Thank you, Neltharion.”
“Prestor,” corrected Korialstrasz.
“You want me to call him Prestor?”
“I will never say the name of the Betrayer,” he whispered. “Not after what happened...”
Neltharion rumbled, lowering his head. His eyes became downcast and he dismissed the
ice from his hand, heating it to dripping steam.
“Deathwing,” said Krasus. “Call he who betrayed everyone Deathwing. That is his name
now. He stopped being Neltharion the moment he revealed his evil...” He looked to the much
older Neltharion who still held his head low. “Right?”
Neltharion rumbled in agreement. And then he sniffed: “He’s right. For now on, my
name is Prestor. Until I am returned to my time, call me Prestor. Neltharion no longer exists.
And he will continue to do so until he is cured of his evil.”
“Very well, Prestor,” said Krasus.
Neltharion–or rather–Prestor gave a nod and smiled.
“Deathwing and Prestor...” said Krasus. “But eventually...”
“No more,” said Prestor. “No more. Leave it at that.”
“Very well,” said Krasus, realizing that Prestor no longer wished to press upon future
matters.
Prestor growled again at the sound of thunder.
“You right,” he said. “This storm is not natural. Deathwing did not cause it.”
“He flew away before its coming,” said Krasus. “All the dragons are gone.”
He walked around Korialstrasz and placed his hand upon the wound. Closing his eyes,
Krasus called upon the healing powers gifted to his kind. Korialstrasz rumbled pleasantly as he
felt the healing energies seep into his wound. The burn slowly disappeared from the dragon’s
flank. Korialstrasz lifted up as Krasus leaned away. He dipped his head. “There, much better.”
“Thank you,” said Korialstrasz.
“Krasus,” said Prestor, he swung his head down to the Blood Elf. “Malfurion
Stormrage...where is he?”
“I lost sight of him when we were ambushed,” said Krasus. “And Tyrande.”
“I am feeling much better,” said Korialstrasz. “I could help you find him.”
“So can I,” said Prestor.
“Tell me the location he is in,” said Krasus.
Prestor rumbled and slammed a foot down upon the rock, sending out his vibrations once
more. They echoed back and he nodded.
“Not far from here,” he said. “Not far from where I felt your presence before you came
here. East.”
70
“Korialstrasz,” began Krasus. “Take me to Malfurion. Prestor, if you can, create a shelter
for a few of the survivors, do so. Pick up as many as you can. Maybe we can find a source for
this storm.”
With a thrust to both claws, Prestor dismissed the shelter. The ground trembled slightly.
Rain started to pelt them again. Wind blew violently around them. Krasus covered his eyes,
feeling the rain sling across his face. Korialstrasz knelt down to allow him to mount. Prestor
swept his head around, hearing the creaking sound of roots bending. Trees along the bank began
to tilt as the ground below, saturated with water, shifted.
“Oh no,” he whispered.
“What is it?” asked Krasus.
“Do you see the creep there?” he asked, pointing to the bank. “The tilt of the trees?”
“Yes.”
“The ground is heavy with rain water,” said Prestor. “If it gets any heavier, and with the
combined volcanic ash from the volcano, we’ll have a flow. This whole place is going to slide
off the mountain.”
“Find as many survivors as you can,” said Krasus. “Can you stop the slide?”
“No,” he replied. “But I can redirect it.”
“Do it,” said Krasus. “And be quick about it.”
“Rain, water, and volcanic ash,” said Prestor. “A nastier mix than lava, Krasus.”
“Let’s go,” said Krasus. “When you are done, make a large shelter so we can find you.”
“Got it,” said Prestor as he leapt off into the air. Prestor followed along the side of the
steep bank. As he flew over the points he spied, he dipped an elementium-tipped wing down and
touched the ground. Rock walls jutted out from deep under ground. The slide began, sending a
roar of slurry down the side of the mountain. Volcanic ash added to the heaviness of the slide,
turning it gray as it splashed around, following the creases of the mountain. Night Elves ran as
fast as they could from the rush of mud, ash, rock, and water. Prestor dove down, landing upon
the foot of the bank. Giving a whistle, he called the elves to him. Rather than not argue with the
monster in front, who seems to be planning on saving them from the monster at the back, they
ran passed him. He stood right at the place he knew the slide was going to be directed. Prestor
took in a deep inhale of breath. He lifted his claws up and then exhaled, slamming them down
upon the ground. The ground gave way, creating a long, wide, and deep trench. The slide
splashed down into the trench. Debris, trees, rock, water, ash swiftly began to fill the trench. He
glanced back at the elves.
“How many are you?” he asked.
“Ten,” one replied. “Who–who are you?”
“Prestor,” he replied. “Don’t be afraid, I won’t harm you. I am a friend of Malfurion
Stormrage and Krasus. Krasus sent me here to help.”
He signaled for them to follow him as they made their way down from the foot of the
mountain. He extended his wings, protecting the elves from the rain. Prestor paused, feeling an
area of solid rock beneath them, rock so solid it would not be moved by any other force but his.
“I am going to build a large rock shelter,” he said to the elves. “If you like, you can join
me and wait out the storm.”
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Once more, he flexed and jagged rocks thrusted from the ground, creating an even larger
shelter than the one he had before. The elves rushed in. Their bodies shivered from the
dampness. Prestor looked on to see the demons retreating, hacking away at any other elf they
found. Still, he could see no end to the storm and he knew not even his walls will hold for long.
The rush of the slurry continued down the mountain, being redirected into the trench, or flowing
elsewhere. A few of the elves gathered wood for a fire, but as they tried to light it, only found it
would not burn.
“The wood is too wet to build a fire,” said one elf.
Prestor stretched his front paws, letting loose a great yawn. He lowered himself down to
the ground.
“Warm yourselves next to my belly,” he said.
The Night Elves stared hesitantly for a brief moment. Then, they nodded, slowly
approaching him. They leaned against his black belly, feeling comfortable in his great warmth.
“What happened?” asked another elf. “Why did that black dragon attack all of us?”
“Did the dragons betray us?” spoke another.
“What was going on?”
“That dragon is known as Deathwing,” said Prestor, making sure to use that name instead
of his true one. “And he betrayed us as much as he betrayed you. He tricked us. And you should
keep mind of that. The dragons would never do this, but Deathwing is a traitor to all of us. I
cannot express my apologies enough for his actions.”
“Are all black dragons like him, or like you?” asked the first elf.
“All black dragons are under his control,” Prestor replied. “But I am the exception. He
has no power over me.”
He looked up, seeing Korialstrasz land with Krasus, Malfurion, and one other Night Elf.
The Great Black smiled.
“I figured you were lost to us, Malfurion,” he said.
“Not only have I found him,” said Krasus. “But the source of the storm as well...”
Prestor tilted his head. Malfurion lowered his.
“Malfurion is the source,” said Krasus.
“What?”
Malfurion dismounted and slowly sauntered to the edge of the shelter. he was dripping
wet as were his companions. He sighed, frowning, looking sadly at the churning storm.
Lightning continued to flash in the sky, igniting the clouds above. Prestor rose up, stepping over
the elves, and then settled right beside him.
“I could not save her,” said Malfurion. “And now, in my grief, I am no better than the
Burning Legion, no better than Deathwing...”
“Is Tyrande dead?” asked Prestor.
“No,” he replied. “Captured by the demons.”
“Then, there is still hope,” said Prestor. “Tyrande is tough, very tough. She is powerful
as well and Elune will take care of her. You have to trust in that.”
“I failed,” Malfurion said, leaning over to weep in his hands. His heart fell from his
chest. As it did, the storm became more violent.
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“You only fail if you give up!” Prestor bellowed over the thunder, leaning down to the
Night Elf druid. “Stop the storm, Stormrage! Do you think that creating it is helping us or
helping you find her? There is no purpose for this storm than to let your emotions out. You are
only Deathwing if you let the destruction continue with no regard to the lives you hurt. Stop the
storm.”
Malfurion shook his head.
“Your love is strong,” said Prestor. “So is hers.” He leaned back up. “If you like, I can
see for myself if she is in good spirits.”
“You could?” Malfurion asked. “Please!”
“He’ll only do it if you stop the storm,” said Krasus.
Prestor dipped his head. Malfurion closed his eyes and extended his mind to the storm.
He could sense his own emotions within the clouds, his sorrows, anger, and loss for Tyrande.
Then, he took heart in that, took heart that he would find her and that he had help to find her.
“Do you think Tyrande would want you to destroy lives for the loss of her?” Prestor
asked softly.
“She would not,” said Malfurion. He grimaced, trying to stop the storm itself. “I...I
cannot control it. My emotions...”
Prestor rumbled, shaking his head: “If you cannot stop it, then direct it. Like I directed
the slide. Send it somewhere else where it will not harm your people.”
Once more, he reached out with his will to the power of the storm. As he did so, the rain
began to lessen and the storm itself slowly slipped away. Prestor looked to the sky, noting the
clouds finally clearing up. However, in the east, it was not so, the storm still raged on as it made
its way following the fleeing demons. It was obviously heading for Zin-Azshari.
Prestor rose to his feet and once more began to thump the ground, sending out his
vibrations. He closed his eyes and listened carefully to the sounds. Once more, he was rewarded
with an image, however, it was fuzzy. The rain as it pelted the ground, sent blinding white
flashes into Prestor’s mind. The Great Black growled, shaking his head.
“The water is making my Sight blurry,” he said. “The rain is distorting the vibrations,
confusing me. I see the demons, but...I can’t see if they have Tyrande or not. The ground is too
loose, too soft. But...I could make out her voice. She sounds like she is with them.”
“Then, she is alright?” asked Malfurion.
“She’ll be fine,” said Krasus. “Trust that. A priestess of Elune, she may be rather
valuable to them. Which would keep her alive.”
“Once the rain lets up,” said Prestor. “I’ll be able to get a clearer picture.” He lowered to
his belly once more. “Remember, she is tough. That means you have to be tough. We will get
her back.”
Malfurion took in a deep breath, his hands curling into fists. Prestor turned to Krasus and
rumbled.
You want to know of the horrible thing I am trying to keep you from stopping,
Korialstrasz? He projected into the dragon mage’s mind.
What, Neltharion?
It is the Sundering.
The Sundering?
73
Yes. The Demon Soul will have it’s hand in the Sundering, said Prestor. And I have to
make sure that happens.
I figured as much when you mentioned about one continent becoming three. You’re right,
I don’t want it to happen.
It has to. Nozdormu is aware you are here. You are the anomaly that may prevent the
Sundering from happening.
And you are here to make sure I don’t.
Unfortunately.
§§§
For three days, the storm continued to rage on before it finally dissipated. Prestor
decided to stay with the group this time, meeting up with the resistance. After the betrayal with
the newly named Deathwing and the now ravaged volcanic lands he had created, the survivors
were picking up the pieces. Prestor flew along the volcanic lands, using his powers to soothe the
boiling furnaces as best as he could, but each time he found a growing weakness within him.
The world was beginning to lurch from the agony of the now insane Earth-Warder and his future
self could not keep up with healing the lands. The volcanic lands placed themselves between the
resistance and Zin-Azshari. And they would burn on.
“This region...when the Sundering happens,” began Prestor. “Becomes a chain of
submerged volcanoes. Eventually, they’ll birth islands. Nice little archipelago, filled with all
manner of tropical life.”
“You keep saying things like that, Prestor,” said Krasus. “As if you’re reminding yourself
that something good comes from that horrible event.”
“The month is running out,” said Prestor. “And we do not have time. You and I have to
witness it. Then, we can all go home.” He turned to the mage. “The Sundering will end this
war.”
“Well, what if I said I didn’t want the Sundering to happen?” Krasus asked, walking
around the massive Black Dragon.
“It has to,” said Prestor. “It all has to.”
“No, it doesn’t,” said Krasus. “None of this has to happen. Kalimdor doesn’t have to be
destroyed. The Three Wars don’t have to happen either. My queen and love doesn’t have to be a
slave. Everything that will happen, everything horrible that has happen...it’s all because of you!”
He pointed a trembling finger at Prestor. “Everything horrible that has happened in my life. It’s
all your fault. Even my death is your fault! Well, it doesn’t have to happen, none of it does.”
“Yes it does,” said Prestor, his voice sending a tremor through the ground. “It has to
happen, it all has to happen!”
“Why so Calia can be born?” Krasus asked. “So you could have your love? What about
mine? She gets turned into a slave. You’re selfish, Neltharion!”
“Not selfish,” Prestor shook his head. “Not selfish. It may be centered around her, but
that’s just it. I am doing this for one person because it’s more simple to think of it that way.
Easier to carry than the heavy burden I already carry now. Easier to think about, saving one life
when really you’re saving all lives.”
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“If you want things so simple, then let me destroy the Demon Soul right now,” said
Krasus. “I will pluck a scale from your body and smash it.”
“And I will make sure you never return home if you do so!” Prestor bellowed. “And then,
Alexstrasza’s eggs become Twilight Dragons because she has no one to protect them. You see
what your actions will do? Or mine? There is a reason why Nozdormu hasn’t even erased you
yet. He should, you’re the anomaly. You’re not supposed to be here.”
“Neither are you!” said Krasus.
Prestor growled, his face flushing with frustration: “I’m here because of you, because you
have the potential to completely screw everything up.”
“My flight gets turned into slaves, Neltharion,” said Krasus, his glowing blue eyes
flashing as they narrowed. “Your Demon Soul made it that way. The rest of us hid ourselves
from you. I don’t want my flight to be afraid...but it all starts here. It all starts right now!”
“I know what I’ve done, Krasus,” said Prestor. “There’s not a single day I don’t live
without some reminder. Someone pointing it out, shouting ‘Deathwing!’ or some alteration to
the landscape I caused. I wanted to come here so I could erase it all too. I don’t want to be
Deathwing. I told you what made me become that monster. But still, even you blame me. So,
blame me.” He gripped the ground. “Everyone else does!” He paused and his eyes darted
around, looking at the ground and then at Krasus. “I am here to make sure you live, but also to
make sure you don’t fuck with the timeline. It’s what my brother has asked me to do. My...only
brother that I have left, Krasus.”
“Malygos...”
“Dead,” said Prestor. “It pained me to see him. Alive. And I wanted to tell him what
would happen to him. You’re not the only one who wants to make sure that certain events don’t
happen. I wanted to make sure that Malygos didn’t even go. Maybe trap his entire flight in earth
while my younger self betrays everyone. I could have saved him from his own madness. But I
didn’t, Krasus. That’s the point. My inaction will see to it that he becomes what he will become,
and that he will die later on.” He continued to paw the ground. “You have to do the same. It all
has a reason...”
“A reason for an Aspect to die?” asked Krasus. He stepped forward. “Then why don’t
you die too? Why didn’t you die? Why don’t you die?”
Prestor shrank back: “That...is an incredibly mean thing to say, Krasus.”
“Oh, that was mean?” Krasus asked in mock concern. “Did I hurt the Earth-Warder’s
feelings? Well, why didn’t someone come along to kill you? Why the hell are you still here?
You deserved nothing less.”
Prestor folded his wings up as if he was trying to wrap himself in a blanket.
“I wanted to die...”
“Why don’t you then?” asked Krasus. “You killed me, you broke my queen’s heart, you
nearly destroyed all of Malygos’ flight. You are the worst being in the world. How could any of
the Titans decide to make you...give you the power to guard the world. All you have ever done is
fail. So, do us all a favor and die!”
“I can’t...die...” he replied.
“Oh, why?” asked Krasus. “Deathwing scared of death?”
“Do you love this world?” Prestor asked lowly, his wings folding tighter around his body.
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“Yes,” said Krasus.
“And all the life that lives on it?”
“Yes.”
“Then,” Prestor began. “I cannot die.” He sniffed. “It takes the power of all Aspects to
destroy the world, Krasus. I am the world. If I die, the world dies with me and the Old Gods
win.”
“No one can replace you?” asked Krasus. “Has anyone replaced Malygos.”
“One.”
“Who?” he asked.
Prestor shook his head, looking away, staring at the ground again as if it was the most
interesting thing he had ever saw.
“You won’t tell me,” said Krasus.
“No,” he replied.
“But no one can replace you,” said Krasus. “Why?”
“Because how I was made,” said Prestor. “What dragon do you know bleeds lava? What
black dragon do you know bleeds lava? Do my blacks bleed lava?”
“No,” said Krasus. “Only you do.”
Prestor ripped a scale from his shoulder, allowing it to drop heavily to the ground. A
wound opened up from the empty space of the scale and oozing out of it was of course lava. It
trickled down the rough black scales of his foreleg. Krasus watched that as the lava trickled
down, it began to harden with the cooler air and then turn black, solidifying into rock. Prestor
brushed the cooling shard of lava off his arm and it fell right before Krasus. The mage looked at
it and then looked up at the Black Dragon.
“There isn’t a dragon alive that is made like me,” he said. “Made with the very core of
this planet for his insides. That’s why...no one can replace me.” Prestor swallowed. “Not unless
Khaz’Goroth personally comes down here and makes a new one.” A salty tear fell from his
lower lid and he wiped it with a claw. “I think the only thing that is real water are my tears, even
my spit is lava. But...they aren’t the tears of normal creatures. They’re sea water. Because sea
water came from the gasses of volcanoes. Life comes from the earth, Krasus. And I am the
earth.” He sighed, sniffing as he wiped his eyes. “The Earth-Warder is built, Krasus. Made.
Constructed. The powers I have are tied to my heart. I can’t give them to anyone. Believe me,
there are times I wish I could. There are times where I wish I could give up being the EarthWarder and just stumble off to obscurity. Let some one else have the job. I can’t. Another one
has to be made, but if the Titans came down here and found out what had happened with our
world...they would be more inclined in destroying it than to make another Earth-Warder to
replace me.” He lowered himself down to the Blood Elf, an emerald eye coming close. Krasus
stood back, seeing the reflection of himself within that eye. “We have to live with what we got.
Because we are not going to get another chance.” The great eye blinked as another tear dripped
down from the black lid. “Even if that means the horrible things have to happen. Believe me, I
want nothing more than to stop myself, but I can’t. Just like I couldn’t when my mind was
locked in my own body, my actions controlled by a demon created by those squids...I can’t do
anything. We just have to let it all happen.” His head tilted as he leaned upon his side on the
ground. “I don’t make sense, Krasus. I’m some sort of freak of nature. My biggest secret kept
76
from the others. This secret was even kept from me. I never knew exactly what it was until my
scales ripped apart. A dragon made with hardly any organs, just...filled with magma. Do I have
bones, do I have a stomach? I think I do, I’m hungry a lot. I suppose I do have bones, I’ve
broken them a few times. I eat regular food. I can breathe. I have a heart because it beats...but
it’s the heart of the planet. And it hurts and it is heavy. How can I feel so much strength when I
also feel so frail and sickly? I have no blood, not real blood. If I get too cold, the lava starts
solidifying and I’ll start having either a stroke or a heart attack. I vomit lava. Only after I
became Deathwing did I start using it as a breath weapon because I found out I could renew it.
My body makes it.” He sighed. “Maybe that’s why the Old Gods picked me off so easily.
Inside, I was insecure about myself, about what I am. I’m not even like my own damned flight.
I’m not like anyone. I’m some sort of hideous freak. At least you’re normal.”
“Normal,” said Krasus. “And smaller than my own mate.”
“Every dragon is smaller than their Aspect,” said Prestor.
“I’m smaller than Tyranastrasz,” said Krasus. “He’s more her size. I’m practically a
juvenile compared to Alexstrasza.” He looked away from his refection in the Black Dragon’s
green orb. “You’re not a freak, Neltharion. You’re just different. You were made so you could
do your job properly. I don’t think any average dragon could do it. They would have to be built
like you.”
Prestor purred as he moved his head around, pressing his snout against Krasus’ back. He
raised his head and gave a shake to his beard.
“Four original Aspects left,” said Krasus. “And some dragon who took up the Aspect of
Magic. Is he good at his job?”
“He has a lot to learn,” said Prestor. His head lowered down between his paws and he let
loose a soft whimper. “I really do wish I could undo everything or even prevent Alex from
becoming the slave. Don’t think I don’t agree with you about her or about any horrible things
I’ve done. But if they weren’t meant to be a part of our world, then Nozdormu would have
stopped me first, wouldn’t he? He knew all along that all of this would happen, you’d think he’d
stop me.” He rumbled. “I asked him that and he told me it was meant to be.”
“Then,” began Krasus. “If it all was meant to be, the Sundering was too.” He swallowed.
“If I try to stop it, then he would have to kill me.”
“This world is fragile, Krasus,” said Prestor. “Time is too. Nozdormu was made
differently as well. If you haven’t noticed. We both have to make sure that it is all protected.”
“I hoped to stop all of this from happening,” sighed Krasus, finally giving up. “But even
that my very well destroy the world too.”
“I hoped to stop myself from betraying everyone,” said Prestor. “Fat good that did.”
“It won’t be long,” said Krasus. “He’ll put that armor on...”
“And then, he’ll add it all up,” said Prestor. “He’ll know who I am. So, I am really
betting on his madness making him forget.”
“You might lose that bet,” said Krasus.
“I hope I don’t,” said Prestor.
They finally met up with the rest of the resistance at Black Rook Hold. Krasus was
greeted by Rhonin, Malfurion did his best to introduce Korialstrasz and Prestor to the group, but
the latter was not received with warm welcome. The moment Rhonin saw him, he dropped to the
77
ground, fainting from the shock. Brox brandished his axe, charging for the now horse-sized
Prestor.
“Blood’s Shadow!” he bellowed. “I will have your head!”
The Night Elves looked on in confusion as they watched the orc run for the Black
Dragon. Prestor held out his claws in protest.
“Wait!” he called. “Wait, I can explain!”
“Brox!” shouted Krasus. “Stop!”
Prestor growled and swung his tail at the orc, knocking him back. The dragon took hold
of the orc’s collar and pulled him up.
“Prestor, let him go!” shouted Krasus as he knelt to Rhonin. He shook the human awake.
“Rhonin...”
“Krasus...did I just see Deathwing...walk into our camp?” he asked as he opened his eyes.
“Yes...you did,” said Krasus. “Prestor!”
“He’s calling himself...Prestor?” asked Rhonin. “As in Lord Daval Prestor? Again?
Why?”
“Just wait a damned moment!” Krasus huffed. “Rhonin, look at him...”
“He’s got...the armor on,” said Rhonin. “Wait...he just swelled only a few days ago
and...now he’s got the armor on?”
“Wrong Deathwing,” said Krasus. “He’s...like us.”
“What?” asked Rhonin. He swallowed hard as Krasus rose him to his feet. “He’s from
our time?”
“Not exactly.”
“Listen to me,” said Prestor. He pulled upon the feathers hanging from his braids. He
held out a circular, stone ring dangling from one of the feathers and showed it to Brox. “You see
this? Huh? You see it? You know what it is?”
“The symbol of the Earthen Ring,” said Brox.
Prestor let go of the orc, and raised a claw. The wind began to whirl around him. Fire
from the torches sprung out and wrapped around him. The ground itself trembled beneath him as
the water flowed about him.
“I swear by the elements of earth, fire, wind, and water, that I will harm neither you, nor
anyone of this camp,” he said. “On my honor as a member of the Earthen Ring. Let the elements
hear my words and judge them true. My goal is to soothe the forces that make and bind this
world, not to use them to destroy it, for if I do so...I will destroy myself in the process.” The
elements he called upon then left him. “I have been named by Go’el, also known as Thrall, as the
Dragon Shaman, for all shamans feel their connection to me. I am the Earth-Warder, and my
power is like theirs. And I have named Thrall as my brother and the Earthen Ring members of
my flight. I will not betray them now...not in this time, or no other.”
“He’s from our future, Brox,” said Krasus. “Yours, mine, and Rhonin’s.”
“Our future?” asked Rhonin. “You mean to tell me that Deathwing...becomes...”
“Cured of madness?” asked Krasus. “We’ve been down that road already...and yes.”
“How far?” asked Rhonin.
“That, I am uncertain,” said Krasus. “And perhaps it is best that we do not know.”
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“Not far enough for Rhonin to have passed on,” said Prestor. “And no, you are not an old
man either, Rhonin. So, judging your age now, I’d say...five years at the most.”
“Five years?” asked Rhonin. “Not at all long.”
“No,” said Prestor. “And don’t call me Deathwing. I am not Deathwing. I am Prestor.”
“Lord Daval Prestor,” said Rhonin. “And King of Alterac.”
“I wasn’t even crowned,” said Prestor. “You two put a stop to that. And I have you to
thank for it too.”
“Now I must say I am confused,” said Brox. The orc snorted, scratching his head. “Very
well, Shaman, I suppose the elements have judge you. Not that I am that much of a judge of
them. But step one foot out of line, and I will cleave your head right here.”
“It would make my wife sad if you do,” said Prestor. “I will be on my best behavior.”
“Wife?” asked Rhonin.
“Calia Menethil,” said Krasus. “He’s still married to her.”
Rhonin once more felt his knees buckle and he knelt to the ground. He moaned, his head
swimming. Krasus could not help but to chuckle softly.
“I think he’s had enough,” said Prestor.
“Indeed,” said Krasus.
They brought the bodies of Lord Ravencrest, who had fallen during the battle as well as
many other dead to the hold. They held their wake that night and built the funeral pyre.
Malfurion asked Korialstrasz to set the pyre ablaze, an act that the dragon solemnly agreed
perform. Malfurion was then left to his own thoughts. Prestor settled himself down beside
Krasus and Rhonin, drinking some of the ale he found in the hold. Drinking was one way to
wash away the sorrow he had over the deaths his former self’s betrayal had caused. He felt his
weakness begin to grow again as he settled in for the night. The world was once more in pain.
Prestor laid his head down upon the moist ground. His keen ears picked up the sounds of
hammers smashing upon metal. Fresh smolder was being poured. He swallowed hard, and his
lips perched tightly. They were building it, they were building his first armor. Prestor glanced
back at the elementium plates of his own armor, the upgraded version of what the goblins once
applied those centuries ago. Of course at various times, he did go back and have the armor
repaired, or even replaced, but it was still his old armor. He closed his eyes, allowing a single
tear to fall to the ground.
79
Two Flies on the Wall
THEY SENT OUT DIPLOMATS to the four corners of the world, to the Tauren, the Earthen,
and the Furblog. And each one answered the call. Rhonin, Malfurion, and Brox were there to
handle the negotiations while Krasus and Prestor went on another mission. Prestor took Krasus
to one of the lands once owned and now abandoned by the Blue Dragonflight. Though
Neltharion had instructed Malygos send a few to the north to save the flight, Krasus knew the
only way to secure its survival was to find some blue dragon eggs.
“So this was how you saved them,” said Prestor.
“I suppose we both have now made sure there are blue dragons left,” said Krasus. “But
this will give us more of a guarantee.”
“It is the least I could do for Malygos,” said Prestor. “After what happened.”
Krasus and Prestor gathered up the eggs, or at least the ones they found were not
withering away or dead. Prestor felt the shell of the dead eggs, watching them crumble to dust at
his touch. He shook his head.
“Without an Aspect or broodmother to protect them, they are vulnerable,” said Prestor.
“After you told Malygos,” began Krasus. “Would he not sink down as low as he did
before?”
“I don’t know,” said Prestor. “Would he feel as betrayed knowing that it would happen, or
would he come to accept it...would being accepting drive him even further down into his own
madness.” He cocked his head. “I don’t know.”
“I will find out when this is all done,” said Krasus.
“So will I,” said Prestor.
Once the eggs were gathered, Krasus called upon a small pocket dimension in which to
hide the eggs in. They would be protected for a time, long enough to grow.
“They will have mothers to take care of them,” said Prestor.
“Yes,” he said. “At least. I wish we could go to the other dragons now with these eggs.”
“They’ve all hidden themselves well,” said Prestor. “Myself included. They won’t be
willing to come out of hiding just yet. But I do remember that they did. Something made them
do so.”
“What?” asked Krasus asked.
“A simple theft...” replied Prestor, a grin spreading across his face.
Krasus thought for a moment as he mounted up upon the Great Black’s back. He held
upon the elementium plates and Prestor pushed off sailing into the chilly sky. They arrived, after
a half a day’s flight, once more into the Night Elf lands where now the other races had joined the
fight. A battle ensued between the resistance and the demons. Though things looked hopeful
when Krasus saw Tauren fighting along side the elves. Prestor smiled to see the Earthen do the
same. However, the battle was not going well. It was time to even the odds. Prestor dove down,
angling himself as he released his lava upon the demons. He spun swiftly, avoiding their
missiles, only to round and attack again. His attacks sent the demons and Eradar back, forcing
them to a retreat, and bought time for the others to make their retreat as well. Once the demons
disappeared back into the mist, Krasus and Prestor rejoined the others.
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“A good battle!” called Brox. “And many deaths to sing of. Warriors to be praised for the
blood they’ve spilled.”
“Wonderful,” said Rhonin. He walked over to the hulking Black Dragon and his
passenger, who slid down the metallic plated back. “You are a welcomed sight, Krasus. And I
would never thought I’d say the same for...him...as well.”
Prestor snorted a bout of black smoke from his nostrils.
“Another reprieve,” said Krasus. “Temporary, enough to rest, but...we can’t continue like
this.”
“It will continue,” said Rhonin. “We have a few allies here, and one giant dragon, but...it
is not enough. If we had an army of dragons...”
“The dragons won’t come so long as Deathwing has the Demon Soul,” said Krasus. He
then looked up at Prestor who let loose a deep, breathy growl and smiling intently. “However...if
we steal it...”
“Steal the Demon Soul?” asked Malfurion. “Yes, if we do that, then the dragons will
come and assist us. They will have nothing to fear from Deathwing.”
“You can’t be serious,” Rhonin sighed. “Please tell me you’re not serious.”
“We are,” said Prestor. He shrank himself down to his more human-sized form. The
Black Dragon extended his wings with a stretch, and then snapped them to his back.
“We don’t even know where Deathwing is!” Rhonin protested.
“We don’t, but...Deathwing does,” said Krasus. He glanced up at Prestor who nodded in
agreement.
“I know where I am hiding,” he said.
“But...I thought we were going to keep him away from himself,” said Rhonin. “He’ll
know, won’t he? He’ll know who Prestor is.”
“He will know eventually,” said Prestor. “The armor is a clue.”
Rhonin took hold of a lock of his red hair, gritting his teeth hard.
“I made the mistake of already interacting with my former self,” said Prestor. “The
damage had already been done. However, we still need to sneak in. I can sneak in, but making
myself tangible will alert Deathwing to my presence.” He turned to Malfurion Stormrage. “If
you go on your own, you will have a hard time getting through his shielding. But if we go
together...our combined abilities will be able to infiltrate his hideout undetected and we will be
able to retrieve the Demon Soul.” He smiled at the druid. “Cenarius has given you a great
ability, Malfurion. However, this is an Aspect we are talking about, and not any Aspect, one who
is the Master of the Deep. The most secret of places are never secret to him.”
“You have to go now if you ever hope to get the Demon Soul away from Deathwing,”
said Krasus.
“Yes,” said Prestor. “I heard them banging the armor. They’re making it. Right now, he
is at his vulnerable because his power is so out of control. His body cannot contain it, and he is
ready to blow up. We can grab the disk while he is distracted with getting his armor on. We
won’t have another chance once they’ve applied it.”
“I can help you get passed him,” said Malfurion.
Prestor rumbled and lifted his paws up to cross his forelegs. His green eyes fell upon
Malfurion’s silver ones and narrowed.
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“He knows you as well,” he pointed out. “I had to rescue you from him, remember?”
“Then who better than the two of you to find it?” asked Krasus, placing his hands upon
both the dragon’s shoulder as well as the druid’s. “Prestor can lead you to the disk, Malfurion.
However, Prestor, Malfurion can make sure you are both not spotted.”
“I would be honored to have him join me,” said Malfurion. Prestor smiled and nodded in
agreement.
“The problem is that Deathwing’s powers are greater than mine,” said Prestor. “Like
Krasus, who’s powers has mostly went to his former self, mine has gone into mine. But I can do
my best to protect you. I know how he thinks.” He got up from the ground, shaking his scales.
“We will need a quiet and protective place.”
“Follow me,” said Malfurion.
Prestor walked along side Malfurion as the druid lead him down to a quiet glade.
Malfurion could feel the songs of the forest giving him some comfort. He always felt at home in
the forest. The Black Dragon rumbled, also sensing that this was a perfect place to do what they
needed. He could feel the earth beneath his feet giving him comforting vibrations. He turned to
the druid and called his attention with a growl.
“Cenarius may have gifted you with fantastic abilities, Malfurion, however, to enter
safely into Deathwing’s sanctum, you must forget all that you have learned. We will not be
traveling through the Dream.”
“Then how?” asked Malfurion.
“The only way he would least expect,” said Prestor with a grin. “Come.”
He motioned for the druid to set down. Malfurion sensed the presence of Cenarius as he
settled to the ground and began to relax. He could feel the watchful eye of the Lord of the Forest
comforting. Malfurion came to his meditative position before the Black Dragon as he settled to
his haunches. Prestor placed his claws upon Malfurion’s shoulder.
“Listen,” he whispered gruffly. “Upon my birth, I was told this one thing...I am the
protector of the land and the deep places, including what lies inside every living creature. It is
inside ourselves that we find our truth strength, for it is the rock of the land we stand upon. Trees
wither and die, but the land that nurtured them will always be here.”
“I was always taught to find strength in the forest,” said Malfurion.
“You see why I told you to forget what you were taught?” asked Prestor.
“I...”
“Don’t be afraid to,” he said, patting a shoulder. “And you can always come back to it
when we are done. For now, time to leave the comfort zone. I am about to impart to you a piece
of my power. When I am done, I will take that piece back.”
His emerald eyes closed.
“Listen to the sound of my heart,” he commanded. Malfurion closed his eyes and
listened tot he sound of a deep heart beat thumping side the dragon’s massive chest. Prestor
rumbled again. “Now listen to yours...note that yours is faster than mine. We are out of rhythm.
If it goes any faster or any slower, the connection will be severed and you will be lost.” Prestor
breathed deeply. “Calm yourself. Slow your heart.”
Slow your heart...let it beat with the rhythm of the planet...
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Malfurion felt his heart slow, coming in time with Prestor’s. As his heart slowed, his
hears picked up the strangest of sounds. He could hear the roots of trees gripping the ground,
and the creatures crawling in the soil. For a moment, this brought him comfort for he had heard
this sounds before. Cenarius had always thought him to listen to the sound of the forest. But
then, the sound extended down. Malfurion felt his body lower into the ground. He felt heavy,
but firm and stable. However, the deeper he went, the heavier he became. And then the heat
struck. Malfurion struggled, feeling the heat, the pressure and the heaviness grow. It pressed
against his lungs and he started to choke. His heart quivered in his chest.
Do not let your heart loose its rhythm. Find mine, hear my heart!
The heat, the weight, I feel so heavy! My body...what is happening to it?
His body screamed as he felt it being crushed under the weight of the pressure. He could
feel his body squeeze and contract upon the pressure he could not fight against.
I can’t breathe!
You don’t need to! Malfurion, open your eyes.
My eyes will burn!
I can make the pressure go away. Just open your eyes. Open them, mortal!
Prestor’s voice was so powerful, so commanding, it was hard for the druid to disobey. He
opened his silvery eyes. He still could not breathe, but he suddenly felt the pressure slowly
release around him. All around him was an orange glow, but right in front, filling his vision was
the massive visage of the Earth-Warder. He could not move, the thick glowing soup held him
tight. Prestor exhaled a bubble of air around Malfurion. The druid gasped, finally allowed to
breathe. His lungs screamed as he took in the air. It felt so good to breathe again. Then, the
dragon lowered his head down, leaning an elementium plate close to Malfurion. He reached out
and touched the plate, finding it oddly cool. Then, he grabbed hold. The Great Black pushed
forward through the soup.
Where are we?
The plume.
As he swam through the magma, Malfurion spied fragments of rock floating by.
What is this heaviness I feel?
The weight of the world, and its affliction.
What affliction?
The darkness you sensed in the Demon Soul, there is a reason for it. This world has
parasites, creatures who’s malice equals that of the Burning Legion. They were the ones who
drove my former self mad.
Why would they?
We Aspects are the keepers of the failsafes to their prisons. And I watched them, as is my
charge. Being so close, it drove me to madness. This madness is curable, thankfully.
They passed through a layer of solid rock and the pressure continued. Malfurion heard
the sounds of the world around him. he could sense a greater connection with the world itself
through Prestor, and also its sickness. There was that darkness he sensed through the Dragon
Soul, darkness old and secretive. He felt repulsed by it, almost as if he wanted to vomit out his
own organs for the sickness was everywhere. It was no wonder why this sickness drove the
Black Dragon to madness. Neltharion was not evil, he was sick, just...sick. It was an illness that
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perforated through the planet and because of what Neltharion was, it affected him more than any
other creature. The heart he heard beating inside Prestor’s chest was the heart he began to hear
inside of the planet itself. Neltharion, the Earth-Warder, was born with a sickness that after
thousands upon thousands of years, he finally found a cure for. With that, Malfurion almost
pitied Prestor. Though, there was a bit of hope. He could sense that the world was not always
ill. This new connection he was sharing with Prestor showed him that the world was once well
and like a virus affecting the body, these monsters invaded. There was hope that the body can be
cured. The one thing he sensed more than anything else was the age of the planet. It was old,
older than the forests, older than perhaps even Cenarius. Prestor shared that age with it. Was he
as old as the planet? No, Malfurion did not sense that, but because he was made literally from
the planet itself, he shared the age. Malfurion could sense the soothing will the Earth-Warder
next to him had on the world. There was a concerto to the soothing energies he felt. A song, a
simple song. The song of the world all of its aspect. Then, he felt something even more, the beat
of Prestor’s heart. His heart was the drum keeping time with the song, making sure it stayed on
the steady rhythm, as if life itself depended upon it. Malfurion felt his own heart beating once
more with Prestor’s and they chimed on. Then, there was a sour note. It startled him and he
thought he was about to lose time again.
Keep rhythm.
The closer they came to their destination, the louder the discord. Malfurion covered his
ears as it grew louder. And then, Prestor stopped. Malfurion looked on, seeing a vast chamber of
stone and crystal. Goblins worked tirelessly upon enormous metal plates, hammering, molding
shaping the plates. A goblin walked along side the wall and Malfurion withdrew.
“They can’t see us,” said Prestor. Malfurion looked back at the Black Dragon, taking
note that he had now shrank down to a smaller size. The elf’s head came up to Prestor’s collar
bone. The Great Black took in a deep breath, his massive chest expanding out and the druid
could see some glowing separations in the scales. There was that heat again, but it felt
comforting to him. Prestor placed a claw upon his shoulder. “To them, we are nothing more than
the wall itself.”
“But we can see through the wall,” said Malfurion.
“Yes,” said Prestor. “The rock acts as a one way window.”
“Meklo!” bellowed a thunderous and heavy voice. Prestor and Malfurion both shrank
back. “Meklo!”
“I have belched,” said Prestor, knowing who’s voice thundered. The two shifted through
the rock, rising up to the ceiling to get a better view of the scene. There he was, the being who
was once known to them as Neltharion–Prestor’s past self. Prestor made sure his name was
changed. This monster was indeed Deathwing now. He laid upon his belly, grimacing in agony.
He looked much larger than he did at the time of his betrayal, finally swelling closer to Prestor’s
true size. The splits in his scales widened and lava-like blood oozed and bubbled out from the
wounds. His beard had been burned off, the glistening crystals completely gone from his back.
In the Great Black’s claw glowed the Demon Soul. Prestor took hold of Malfurion, nodding to
the disk.
“He still has it!” he said.
Malfurion’s heart sank as he looked into Deathwing’s paw.
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“How can we remove it from him?” the druid asked.
“There is something you must learn about me being the Earth-Warder,” said Prestor.
“There is a neutral status in which I have become when melded with the rock. You must learn to
wait and listen. Listen carefully.”
“I am listening,” said Malfurion.
“I am hoping all that I am teaching you now, you will use later,” said Prestor. “Cenarius
will be amazed by the knowledge you have been granted. It will help you in your training with
him as well. He will tell you the same thing, but what I am teaching you now is another way of
looking at it. Watch and listen.”
He pulled Malfurion again and the two manifested from the ground. Malfurion felt solid
once more, finally able to have hands and feet.
“Hide us,” said Prestor.
Malfurion nodded and then took hold of the dragon’s neck. Prestor could feel himself
becoming slight intangible, light, and almost non-existent, but Malfurion kept hold of both their
forms. The two ducked down behind one of the cooling metallic plates. Right before Prestor
could say how they would be able to steal the disk, Deathwing bellowed again.
“Meklo!” His tail slammed into a wall. “Attend me! Now!”
Deathwing rose up, lava spilling out from his chest’s rips and splashing with a hiss and a
pop upon the ground.
“Meklo!” he bellowed again. The cavern trembled with his fury. “What is happening to
me? Why is my body no longer able to contain my magnificence?”
Prestor groaned at his younger self’s over dramatic question. He slammed his paw upon
his forehead. Malfurion looked to his companion with an eyebrow cocking up. Prestor rumbled.
“I know,” he said in utter embarrassment. “I know! Our mission alone is keeping me
from breaking his jaw right now.”
They turned back to the ailing dragon and the goblin.
“My lord,” said Meklo. “I knew this would happen. You exerted too much power from
the disk upon yourself. It is literally ripping you apart. You must separate it from yourself or
you will burst!”
“Never!” Deathwing bellowed. “I will never let it leave me!”
He curled his claw protectively around it.
“My lord,” began the elderly goblin. “All has been prepared. The plates will be ready
soon and we can help contain this great power you now possess. But until that time, while you
are in that state, you must keep yourself from the disk. When we have contained your greatness
within your new shell and also further bind the disk, you will be able to use it again.”
“I understand, gnat!” Deathwing growled. “I understand.”
Prestor raised a claw to one of the smaller plates bolted to the side of his upper foreleg.
Malfurion reached out to touch it. He spread wide the slit it was binding, peering deep into the
glow of the Black Dragon’s molten core. The black scales of the dragon shifted slightly,
revealing even more glowing stretches underneath. Then, the druid turned to one of the large
plates still cooling on the chain above.
“This isn’t the same metal,” he said. “It has a different color, a different smell.”
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“I’ve had two sets of armor since my body swelled so much my scales began to rip
apart,” said Prestor. “The first set was created by goblins. That is the set you see hanging right
now. Meklo mixed adamantine with steel to create a light, but durable armor. And for a time it
worked. And I kept that set for the longest of time. But then, about 20 years ago my time, I had
a fight with the other Aspects, who found a way to destroy the Dragon Soul using one of my
scales. Their powers released, and I was outnumbered. They tore many of my plates off and I
flew, heavily wounded to the Maelstrom...”
“Maelstrom...?”
“Uh...never mind,” said Prestor. “Look, I was found by a group of rather evil beings who
knew how to work with a substance known as elementium. It is a very rare metal and very
heavy. However, I had swelled so much because my armor was ripped off of me...I grew greater
in size, that they felt that I could carry it. It was more durable than adamantine, and stronger. I
demanded armor that could not be damaged, armor that could contain me and match my power.
That is the armor that you see me wearing now. Elementium makes adamantine look like flimsy
rice paper.” He turned, revealing the layered plates upon his back. “Take your knife and scrape it
across the plates.”
Malfurion did so, and found he could not make a single mark on them.
“Not even adamantine can claim that,” said Prestor. “It is a superior metal. So rare that
when I became good, in order to repair some of the plates I wanted to leave on, they had to melt
the ones I already used down to make the repairs.”
“And the lava?” asked Malfurion asked.
“How can a living creature be made out of lava?” asked Prestor. “Not even I know. I was
made with the flesh of Galakrond, a proto-dragon, but, my creator knows greater knowledge
about life than I ever could. Perhaps you should ask him instead of me. However to be the
Earth-Warder, I had to be created with the very core of the planet as my heart. Which is why I
often joke to my wife that I am crunchy on the outside, but with a nice spicy gooey center.
Sometimes I wonder if I just carry the shell of a dragon, but all that is inside is nothing more than
molten rock. Do I even have organs? I don’t know.”
“You have a heart,” said Malfurion. “That much I do know.”
“So does he,” said Prestor. “And right now...it’s as black as pitch.”
“No, only sick...” said Malfurion. “An illness that threatens him. Threatens you...”
Prestor smiled slightly: “Not anymore.”
“Thank Elune it doesn’t,” said Malfurion. “I’m sure where you come from, you and I are
compatriots.”
“Of course,” said Prestor. “You are helping my sister and Cenarius, why shouldn’t we?”
“Good. I’m glad we are friends, Neltharion.”
“Prestor...” said the dragon. “Don’t call me Neltharion until I return...”
They paused when they saw Deathwing rise from the floor of the cavern. His massive,
bloated body pushed its way through the tunnels as he sought out a safe place to place his prize.
Molten lava dripped from his body as he made his way through the tunnel. Once, he could wind
his way through these tunnels with ease, when he was much slender, but now, his bloated form
could barely pass through them. Deathwing growled in frustration as he stomped on through,
taking no note of the two spies following him. He scanned the area slightly and then dipped his
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claw into the rock ledge, allowing it to phase through the surface. When Deathwing withdrew
his claw, it no longer held the disk. Malfurion gasped, no longer able to sense the darkness of the
Demon Soul. However, Prestor remained firm. He could still sense it. The two ducked just as a
massive claw rose over them, only to thump just inches behind them. Prestor breathed as he and
Malfurion planted themselves against the rock wall, watching as the great behemoth lumbered on
by, shaking the cavern with every step.
“Now I know how you mortals feel when ever I walk around,” said Prestor. “Always
afraid I might step on you like an ant.” He looked to Deathwing and then to Malfurion. “Remind
me to be more careful where I step in my true size.”
“Agreed,” said Malfurion. “Though, he still not as large as you.”
“It’ll be a while before he grows as big as me,” said Prestor. “He’s half way there
though.”
Prestor climbed the rock ledge as if he was a spider upon the wall. He came to the spot
where Deathwing hid the Dragon Soul.
“Can you sense it?” asked Malfurion.
“It’s right here,” said Prestor. “Hold up...”
He allowed his claw to phase through the rock, dipping in as Deathwing did to hide the
disk. Malfurion urged him on, looking back at the other Black Dragon, who was still carefully
combing the area for any intruders. He remembered his disk was stolen before, he would not
allow it to be stolen again. Then, Deathwing, swept his head right back around to the wall when
he began to sense a strange movement where the Demon Soul was.
“Prestor!” Malfurion hissed.
“No!” Deathwing growled, sensing the Other in the room. He fingered the spell keeping
Prestor hidden from his gaze. Breaking the shell piece by piece, Deathwing pealed away the
spell. Prestor’s form was revealed. “The Rogue!”
Prestor leapt from the wall just as a massive tail slammed against the wall where he was.
His form shifted and he dove into the wall, growing to his true size. Deathwing glanced to the
opposite wall, seeing the still more massive black dragon leap out from it.
“You will not have my Dragon Soul!” he bellowed. “I will rip your heart out for this!”
He charged for Prestor and the other dragon slammed his own tail at him. The blade
raked across Deathwing’s neck, releasing a spew of his fiery blood from the wound. Prestor
gasped in horror upon realizing what he had just done. Deathwing rose up, holding the wound
upon his neck. Prestor seemed relieved for a moment. Deathwing reared up as best as he could
despite the cramped tunnel. He slashed his claw at Prestor, who grabbed it. He reared as well,
only to bang his head on the ceiling.
“Too big for the tunnel, Rogue?” Deathwing asked.
“Why don’t you take a look at yourself in the mirror, Porky?” Prestor asked. “You’re
getting too fat for your scales as well.”
“I am bursting with my own magnanimousness!” Deathwing announced in a bellow as
the two locked claws. Deathwing looked up at the much taller and wider Prestor. He looked to
the claw, and with his fiery eyes wide, he noticed that Prestor was not burning. Deathwing’s heat
was not effecting him. “My glory is not even burning you...like it did with the others...why?”
“Others?” asked Prestor. “What did you do?”
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“I shared my glory with my mates,” Deathwing chuckled, a wild, maddened grin spread
across his face. “What wonderful children we would make. But many of them were unworthy of
withstanding it! All except one...Sintharia.
Unfortunately, she was horribly scared in the
process. I suppose she will do for now...”
“You...” Prestor growled. His heart was exploding inside of his chest. His face flushed
with heat. “You...you...sick bastard!” With great strength, he tripped Deathwing, slamming him
upon the ground. As his rage swelled inside of him, his body seemed to swell as well revealing
the hidden glowing stretched areas underneath. His chest scales spread wide, revealing his
glowing core. Prestor’s eyes began to glow with a fiery light that echoed his rage. And much
like Deathwing, he started to smoke. “How could you...how could you, you narcissistic, fat
fuck!” He gripped Deathwing’s neck. “I am going to rip you apart!”
“Prestor!” Malfurion called. “Don’t! Don’t do it!”
Deathwing kicked Prestor right between his legs and in a lurch of pain, Prestor fell over
in a slump.
“Oh...god why?” he moaned. “Why do people...always do that to me?”
Deathwing growled as he rose up and took hold of Prestor’s neck, slamming him
squirming against the wall. He moved closer to the other dragon, taking a sniff of his scent.
Prestor shut his eyes tightly, shivering from Deathwing’s strength. Deathwing pulled his face
closer and Prestor opened his eyes, turning them towards him.
“You look familiar,” he said. “You look so familiar.” He raised his claw up to Prestor’s
snout, feeling it around. He then reached up to touch his much larger horns. Then, he touched
his own, noting how similar they were. Prestor spat a lob of his own lava into Deathwing’s
cheek. He flinched and shook it off. “You breathe lava as if every fluid in you is nothing but
lava. Even your saliva is lava.” He shoved Prestor further against the wall, causing the dragon’s
scales to spread, revealing more of his own glowing rips. Deathwing growled. “Who are you?”
He then looked to his own self, seeing his oozing rips leak their fiery blood and his eyes lit up.
Diving a talon into Prestor’s chest. Prestor bellowed in pain as the talon seemed to unzip his
plated chest. Deathwing growled again and opened the wound wide, revealing the molten heart
inside of Prestor. Lava dripped out from the opening. “No...no...it...can’t be...”
Prestor swallowed, shivering from the agony of his open chest. Tears began to flow
down his cheeks. He looked down upon Deathwing who then began to chuckle darkly.
“My...how the little whelp has grown...” he rumbled.
“Don’t ever call me that,” Prestor growled. “Deathwing.”
“How did you get here?” Deathwing asked. “How did you even come here? Eh, whelp?”
“Let me go...” Prestor growled. “Let go!”
Malfurion darted his eyes between the two dragons. Clearly, despite the fact that these
two dragons were in fact the same dragon, he could tell a difference between them. The one
oozing and breaking apart was Deathwing, and the other he held against the wall was Prestor.
He could sense the darkness from Deathwing, but the light from Prestor. And now, it was
obvious, Deathwing knew it as well. He had to get Prestor out of the clutches of Deathwing.
“How did you free yourself from me?” asked Deathwing. “Eh, whelp? How? When? I
suppose that’s the biggest question. Isn’t it? When? So, when? When are you from, whelp?”
“Don’t call me that!” Prestor growled.
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“You know, this is even more convenient,” said Deathwing. “Now I have something solid
to play with...”
Prestor growled again, shutting his eyes. All those horrible memories came back to him.
Every last, depraved, nightmarish one. Malfurion reached out to Prestor’s foot and touched him
just as Deathwing closed in. Prestor felt himself becoming insubstantial once more. His body
phased through the rock, but not by his own power or will. Malfurion took hold of him pulling
him away from the monster. And Deathwing bellowed in fury as his captive escaped him. The
two pulled themselves out of the rock, returning to the quiet glade they once were in. Prestor
breathed heavily as if he had been drowning in the rock as well, must like Malfurion was. Both
shook violently, but Prestor was stunned. He lurched and then wretched his stomach was ripping
itself apart. His chest was wide open and the lava spilled upon the ground, igniting it in a blaze
of fire. Prestor belched his lava from his mouth in his sickness, coughing and sputtering.
“Prestor!” called Malfurion. “Prestor! Prestor, the forest, stop it! Don’t burn the forest.”
Prestor coughed, trying to hold his wound closed, but the sickness would not evade him.
Through his own will, Malfurion called upon a storm and rain began to pelt down upon them.
The fires slowly died, cooling the now black rock that was once the lava. Prestor rolled to his
back trying to keep the rest of his core inside.
“Don’t fear, my friend,” said Malfurion. “Just relax.”
He turned to see the the gash in the dragon’s chest, the beating glowing, pulsating core.
Then, he laid his hands upon Prestor’s chest. He called upon his own will, and the will of his
shan’do, pleading to all the spirits of the woods to aid him. Prestor felt the flow of energy seep
into his black scales as Malfurion focused upon the wound. Then, his chest began to zip up, the
pain and the burning swiftly subsided. Then, Prestor began to rumble softly. Malfurion lifted the
dragon up. He still looked ill, weak, as if a lot of his strength was stolen from him.
“I need to take you back to Krasus,” said Malfurion.
“Krasus...” Prestor said, his mind seemed to wonder to and fro. Malfurion placed a hand
on the dragon’s beard.
“Be strong, Prestor,” he said. “Don’t let that monster get to you...” He lowered his hand
and rose up. “I now know what that monster did to your mind when he was in control. And I
curse that monster for doing it.”
Prestor nodded weakly and the two made their way back to camp.
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In Trouble Now
EVER SINCE HE REVEALED himself to his past self, Prestor felt weaker and weaker. He
returned to the camp only to pace around in a listless fashion. He murmured to himself, folding
his wings around his body and shivering. Prestor’s face was frozen in silent horror. Krasus
began to worry. However, his thoughts on Prestor would soon be cut short. The Legion began to
attack again. Night Sabers and Maieve’s forces did their best to push them back. Prestor took up
the rest of the slack. He was their heavy siege engine against them and helped to even the
playing field, though Krasus noted his growing weakness. He feared the dragon would be
overtaken. Prestor took to the skies, keeping low and releasing his lava upon the Legion. His
mind was distracted though and he was only attacking upon automatic, taking note not to attack
the allies. A flash of green felfire from the spell of a warlock, and the weakened Aspect was
knocked from the sky. He toppled upon the ground, flattening the trees and sending up debris.
Krasus gasped.
Prestor was down.
The Black Dragon roared terribly as demons surrounded him.
“Prestor!” Krasus called. “Prestor!”
Krasus and Rhonin called forth the powers of ice and arcane, sending shards of cold to
impale them from the sky. A demon dodged a shard as his comrades fell, his poisoned axe ready
to cut into Prestor’s large eye. Prestor drew the moisture sealed away from the plants with a
wave of his claw. The grass from the spot dried and died. With his will, the water froze and the
shards ran through the demon’s belly. The demon fell upon Prestor’s neck, dropping his axe.
Another replaced him, leaping into the air to cleave Prestor’s eyes. Before Prestor could dodge
away, the demon was snatched up into the jaws of a large red dragon. Prestor looked up,
grimacing as Korialstrasz sent forth a cone of his fire to the battle ground. Prestor rolled over
and swatted the demons with a flap of his wings. He looked to the orc Brox, who cleaved
several demons with ease. The rest began to push on through, fleeing from the resistance.
“You live because Saurfang allows it!” Brox called, brandishing his axe. “And tell that to
your pathetic masters!”
Prestor got to his feet and gruffly added at the orc: “And the night comes because
Saurfang orders the sun to flee.”
“That he does, Blood’s Shadow,” said Brox.
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that,” said Prestor. “And mind me asking, where did that
name come from anyway? Blood’s Shadow...why would you call me that?”
“It is what Gul’dan called you,” said Brox.
“He was the poetic one,” Prestor sighed, scratching his head. Rhonin, Krasus, Malfurion,
and Korialstrasz walked up to him. Prestor rumbled with a smirk: “At least I know who started
the Deathwing–thing...”
“You did,” said Krasus.
“And here I thought it was you,” said Prestor.
“All of us then?” asked Rhonin.
“Alright, I’ll buy that,” said Prestor. “We’re all to blame for calling me Deathwing.”
Krasus looked to the fleeing foes as they made their way back to their gray mist.
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“They are just whittling us down,” said Brox. “And no doubt they’ll report back about
this to their superiors.” He turned to the Black Dragon. “Blood’s Shadow isn’t holding his
weight like he should. He should be burning them all to ash! Leave no enemy alive!”
“Blood’s Shadow is feeling under the weather,” snorted Prestor.
“Bullshit!” Brox bellowed.
“The reason why Prestor is feeling weak is because he is only half himself,” said Krasus.
“He can never be whole unless he returns home. Or get a scale from his younger self like I did.”
“It’s more than that,” said Prestor. “My evil half is that, my evil half. I looked into his
eyes when we were there. The alternate personality, that demon that inhabited my body, wasn’t
in his head. Which means that I am the main personality...the real Neltharion, while that monster
is my alternate personality infesting my past body.”
Krasus took in a thought when he heard this news. Suddenly, it all began to make sense
to him.
“Which means he is not Neltharion at all,” he said. “The moment you came back,
Deathwing stopped being Neltharion. But he has your power.” The mage sighed. “And that
makes him dangerous.”
“I got scared,” said Prestor. “I’m...frightened of him! He’s this monster who’s tormented
me for most of my life and I wanted...I begged for a way to get rid of him...and when I had the
chance, I couldn’t do it. I just became that scared child again. My mind split to create this
tormentor.” He folded his wings upon himself again. “I couldn’t. I have my own body, and he
has his, but until I go back home, I can’t be free of him. I can’t get away!”
“Split minds and now split bodies,” said Krasus.
“At least you had an extra mind to share,” said Korialstrasz. “I feel like half of my mind
has gone to Krasus.”
With the group now united, they spit off from the night sabers to an open area.
Korialstrasz had come with good news, beaming from end to end.
“I have found our kind, Krasus!” he announced. “Alexstrasza wants to help as much as
she can.”
“Wonderful news!” said Rhonin.
“However,” said the dragon. “The Demon Soul...”
He turned to Malfurion and Prestor.
“We did not retrieve it,” said Prestor.
“Deathwing discovered us,” said Malfurion.
“But this time we will get it,” said Krasus. “And that will free Alexstrasza.”
“Our queen and love has allowed me to assist you,” said Korialstrasz. “Under one
condition.”
“What is that?” asked Krasus.
The red dragon looked up at the Black Dragon. Prestor eyed him, his brow raising in
confusion.
“The one known as Prestor must go to her and speak with her...alone,” said Korialstrasz.
“What?” asked Prestor. He slammed his foot down, causing a tremor to roll through the
ground. The smaller humanoids ducked. “No! No! I was told by Nozdormu not to speak to her.
I can’t.”
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“And we need him to help us find the Demon Soul,” said Rhonin. “Who better to sniff it
out than Deathwing himself?”
Prestor flinched after hearing that name being called and then cleared his throat.
“What he said!” he nodded in agreement.
“Those where the conditions,” said Korialstrasz. “The Life Queen demands answers. She
saw you traveling with Krasus and I told her how you saved me as well.”
“Tell my sister that I cannot meet with her,” said Prestor. “Under the orders of the Time
Lord himself.”
“An Aspect taking orders from another Aspect,” said Rhonin. “Interesting.”
“He’s first born,” said Prestor.
“She won’t take no for an answer,” said Korialstrasz.
“You better do what she says,” said Krasus, crossing his arms. “When my queen calls...”
“Fine!” bellowed Prestor. The ground trembled again. “I will see her. Here is my
condition, I will go with them as well.”
“You can’t be in two places at the same time,” said Brox.
“Technically he is,” said Krasus. “But he’s right...” Then he looked to Korialstrasz. “And
you can’t transform. You can’t follow us completely.”
“I can help as much as I can,” said Korialstrasz. “At least take you part of the way.”
“Agreed,” said Krasus. “Rhonin, I need you to stay behind and keep working with the
Night Elves.”
“Of course,” said Rhonin sighed. “As always.”
“Next time you can come,” said Prestor.
Brox and Malfurion mounted upon Prestor’s plates while Krasus mounted upon
Korialstrasz’s back.
“Riding Blood’s Shadow,” said Brox. “A story that would make...”
The two dragons kicked of, angling towards the tall mountains. The mountains Krasus
remembered when they all first met. As they flew over, the mountains became taller. There was
an evil emanating from them. The landscape was desolate, dry, dark. Nothing would grow for
miles upon these sharp peaks. Death shaped these mountains. The air grew chilly as Prestor
scanned the area, hearing a roar in the distance.
“My flight lives right down there,” he warned.
“We are close then,” said Krasus. “Take us down!”
The dragons landed right at the ledge where Krasus and Malfurion visited before.
“I should go no further,” said Korialstrasz.
Prestor stomped his foot and a black dragon who looked like Prestor leapt out of the
ground. The dragon was made from black rock of the mountain with iron running along his
spine.
“And now, I can be three places at once,” said Prestor.
Krasus noted the stone dragon’s size. He stood a half a head taller than the mage.
“Perfect,” said Krasus. “Korialstrasz...”
“As agreed...” he began. “I will wait for your return.”
“And if you don’t come with me,” began Prestor. “How do I find Alexstrasza?”
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“I will show you,” said Korialstrasz. He locked gaze upon the Great Black’s eyes.
Passing between them were images of a distant land filled with crimson trees and green grass.
But there were no red dragons. They were hiding. He could feel the presence of his sister and it
sent a chill down his spine. The plates rattled as he shivered. She was cold. Prestor broke his
gaze and sighed.
“My Queen awaits,” said Koriastrasz.
“So she does,” said Prestor. His shoulders slumped. He let loose a growling sigh. “My
big brother will not like this.”
“Noted,” said Krasus.
“I’ll return as soon as I can,” said Prestor. “My golem cannot fly or use most of my
powers, except some manipulation of the rock.”
“We’ll take care of him,” said Malfurion.
“Be brave, Blood’s Shadow,” said Brox. “The Dragonqueen is powerful.”
“She’s my little sister,” said Prestor with an uneasy laugh. “What could she do?”
Krasus shook his head. Prestor swallowed and spread his massive, leathery wings. He
dove off the ledge of the mountain, gliding swiftly through the air. The Black Dragon banked
off, disappearing in the high mist.
“That is a dead dragon flying,” said Brox.
“Hey!” bellowed a voice. Brox turned around to the golem. “I’m right here!”
“Blood’s Shadow’s ears are long indeed!” the orc laughed and patted the stone Prestor
upon his shoulder. “Come, warriors, the battle calls!”
“No battle,” said Krasus. “We must keep as quiet as we can.”
“There is no honor in snooping around,” said Brox.
“Get used to it,” said Prestor.
Korialstrasz waited silently, relaxing as he watched the others began their descent
through the mountains. The four moved on with more care, watching every corner and every
shadow. Most of the way, Prestor lead the party. He pointed out the landmarks, feeling along the
vibrations of the activity underground. By his logic, they were nearing their goal, which made
Krasus churn and swallow. A few times, Brox led the way, staring at every rock in their path,
determining whether or not it hid some foe. Prestor shook his head in dismay at the paranoid
orc.
“You cannot be too careful!” said Brox.
“Trust me, if that rock was going to kill you,” began Prestor. “I would know before you
did.”
“Keep reminding me that,” said the orc.
As day gave way to night, and despite that Malfurion could now see much better, feeling
the comfort of the night, they stopped to sleep. The druid felt certain they were nearing the
opening to the vast cavernous system Prestor had took him during their meld. This news only
made Brox too anxious to rest.
“I’ll take first watch!” he announced, holding his axe close to his chest.
“We will take turns through the night,” said Krasus. “We will all need our strength.”
“Perhaps you all should rest and I will keep watch,” said Prestor. “In this form, I need no
sleep.”
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“Two pairs of eyes are better than one, Prestor,” said Malfurion.
“Have it your way,” said Prestor.
He settled down upon his belly and began his dark vigil. As the others began to sleep,
Brox settled himself beside Prestor. As the night waned on, the orc’s head began to bob up and
down, sleepiness slowly closing on him. His eyes fluttered closed. Prestor snorted, hearing the
sound of a loud snore coming from the orc. His wing flexed and smacked the warrior upon his
side. Brox awoke, blinking several times.
“You’ll wake the dead with that noise!” hissed Prestor. He huffed. “And my wife
complains about my snoring.”
“Wife?” asked Brox. “I don’t recall you ever being married. You had females, but...”
“Consorts,” said Prestor. “But yes, I am married.
To a human woman named
Calia...Menethil.”
“Menethil?” asked Brox. His dark eyes lit up. “The Betrayer of Lordaeron? His sister?”
“My wife,” said Prestor with a grin. “And I love her.”
“I never found humans to be...pleasing to the eye...” said Brox. “But Arthas’ sister?”
“She’s pretty!” Prestor said. “And she...knows how to kick my ass.”
Prestor growled, hearing the orc chuckle at him.
“Blood’s Shadow...defeated by a human female,” said the orc. “That is what I would love
to see.”
“I bet,” said Prestor. His head rose as he felt strange vibrations coming from not far
where their camp was. He rose to his feet and began to feel around. There were the sounds of
tinkering over the rocky corner. “Brox...you hear that?”
His tiny pointed ears twitched: “Hear what?”
“Hammering,” said Prestor. “Tinkering...over there. Come on, quietly.”
The two crept through, rounding a corner to an opening of a mining shaft. Prestor
motioned for Brox to follow. The orc held his axe at the ready.
“No, this is no good!” said one voice in the mine.
“Not enough to make another plate here either,” said another.
Brox and Prestor looked beyond a rock to find goblins mining away. Brox held his axe,
fighting the urge to attack right out. Prestor placed his claw upon the orc’s shoulder and shook
his head ‘no’.
“What are they doing?” asked Brox in a whisper.
Prestor sniffed around and then licked at a gray black vein of raw ore. He tasted the ore
and then he turned to the goblins mining it out. The ore itself was all too familiar to him. It
tasted musty and bitter, with a sharp lead tang that he could detect at the back of his tongue.
Prestor nearly gagged from the sharp tang, licking his tongue in and out of his mouth as if to try
and rid himself of the horrible flavor with the sharp points of his teeth. He swallowed with
disgust.
“Adamantine,” he whispered. “They’re digging for adamantine...to make my first armor.”
Prestor signaled for Brox to follow him back out the entrance. As they turned, he felt
footsteps towards them. Prestor paused just as something slammed against Brox’s head. The orc
fell onto the rock.
“Intruders,” squealed a high pitched voice. “Intruders!”
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Prestor swung his tail around and knocked the goblin against the wall. The other goblins
picked up their pick axes and began to rush through the tunnel towards them. He looked from
goblin to goblin. A smile appeared upon his face.
“Insignificant little insects!” Prestor bellowed, the tunnel quaking at the sound of his
voice. “How dare you attack my magnificence!” He slammed his tail upon another goblin,
knocking him to the other wall. “I will finally have my goblin snack after all! Starting with you
tasty morsels. Then I’ll have that conniving Meklo for dessert!”
Brox moaned as he rose up from the rock, seeing the rock dragon standing over him and
bellowing at the goblins. The goblins with wide eyes began to back away. Prestor stepped
forward, his head lowered. He let loose a low growl at the goblins, circling them. The dragon
spread his wings, slowly forcing the goblins out the tunnel. Brox came to his feet. He followed
the dragon out. As they came outside, fire began to rain down upon them. Prestor felt himself
being pushed aside as Brox ran for the goblins. Amid the chaos of the fire, the orc started
cleaving heads. Prestor turned his head as Krasus and Malfurion appeared over the rise.
Lightning flashed and a goblin sizzled. Prestor leaned back against a rock, smiling an almost self
satisfied grin and watching as the two elves and the orc did his work for him.
“Make sure we get them all!” Krasus called. “Prestor!”
“What?” asked Prestor, leaning up from the rock.
“Make yourself useful.”
The dragon turned towards two goblins fleeing. He dove right into the ground, melding
his body with the soil. The goblins could not feel his approach as they continued to run scared
nearly to death towards another entrance. Then, Prestor burst from the ground sending shards of
rock and loose dirt upon the goblins. He could smell their fear leaking out of them as he rose
and in a way he took delight in it. Normally he would not, but these were Deathwing’s goblins.
He could care less of them. Prestor swung his claw at one, breaking his neck as it smashed into
his face. The claws ran a bloody gash upon the goblin’s green cheek. The other goblin ran back
the other direction. Prestor bounded after him, and snatched him up into his jaws, tearing the
body into a bloody mess of entrails, bone and tissue. He growled, pausing when he heard the
sound of Krasus, Malfurion, and Brox running up. Prestor spat some of the meat out, licking his
lips with a rock-like tongue.
“How’s that for being useful?” he asked.
“Could have done that earlier,” said Krasus. He paused taking note of his surroundings.
“How close are we to the entrance?”
“Not far,” said Prestor. He motioned for them to follow him.
After another day’s and night’s travel and much sore feet, they finally came upon the
entrance. They descended down, drawn to the sounds of industry. The noise grew louder as they
pressed on, hammering, tinkering, pouring of hot metal into molds. The heat also became more
noticeable. Malfurion wiped his brow, recalling just how hot it was when he first visited here.
The one who looked comfortable in the heat was Prestor. However, he was showing a different
sort of uncomfortableness, his own deep fears. Coming back to odds with Deathwing again, the
being who tore his mind apart, who turned him into a simpering whelp, he could not press on any
further. Krasus sensed his distraught as the stone dragon stopped.
“Prestor?” he asked.
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Prestor turned away, staring blankly at the wall.
“You have to come,” said Krasus. “You have to...”
“I...” he began, trying to find the right words. But they became lost in his mouth.
“Neltharion,” said Krasus, finally speaking the dragon’s true name. He placed a hand
around Prestor’s huge neck. “Earth-Warder. That is who you are. That monster down there is
not you. Do not be afraid of him! You only will let him win if you do.”
“I...fought him before,” he said, feeling as if his throat was becoming dry. The moister of
the rock that made his throat was leaving him. “Calia...Calia, he was going to hurt her again! I...I
didn’t want him to. So...I struggled with him inside my own head. And outside, I was ripping all
my plates off. One final heft, I tore the big metal brace from my jaw.” He turned away.
“Alexstrasza came and...I heard her crying...crying over my nearly dead body and blaming my
wife for...letting me get like that. She...was so afraid of loosing me she...locked me up in my
own shrine. She didn’t want to loose me again.”
Krasus took in a deep breath: “I had often thought if Alexstrasza had not been your sister,
perhaps she would have been your mate. You two...would have made a...”
“Stop!” Prestor backed away. “No...” He shook his head. “No...nonononono...”
“Well, what I’m saying is...”
“Me and my sister...ew...” Prestor growled. He wagged his head several times. “Ew.”
“I mean if she wasn’t your...”
Prestor swiftly held up a claw, stopping Krasus from continuing any further. Krasus
sighed, leaning back.
“My son and daughter may have done...that...” Prestor began. “But...no...no...not another
word about it, got it?”
“I got it,” said Krasus. Prestor pushed on passed him.
“You are sick, little Korialstrasz,” said the Black Dragon. “Siiiiicckkk!”
They continued on by, sneaking quietly around the mills. There, the goblins worked
diligently, throwing fuel into massive forges, melting the ore, refining it. Prestor could smell the
ore of adamantine being refined, that same stale, pungent scent that made him swallow in disgust
again. Elementium had a better smell. Then, they looked on along the walls. There were plates,
massive plates, many of them damaged and torn, obviously useless now.
“Prototypes,” said Prestor. “I ran through many of them until we got the mix just right.”
“Your swelling was so great it broke the armor?” asked Malfurion.
“Yes,” said Prestor.
They crossed over one of the vats where the goblins were mixing the new smelt. Prestor
took a whiff at the bubbling, glowing, molten metal below him.
“Yes,” he said. “This is the right mix. This will be the beginnings of the first set.”
“Then, we mustn’t linger,” said Krasus. “Once Deathwing has his armor on, and the
Demon Soul at his disposal, that is it. The only thing that’s keeping him from leaving this cavern
is his ailment.”
“And the armor will fix that,” said Brox. “Yes, I recall Blood’s Shadow having basically
a suit of armor bolted to his hide...more than what he carries now.”
“I took most of it off,” said Prestor. He cleared his throat. “I liked the look of my
elementium spine plates. Ysera said they gave me a distinguished look. And they were pretty
96
when they were polished.” He looked to Krasus who gave him the ‘and-tell-me-another-one’
look. The mage crossed arms. Prestor shrugged. “What? She even made oogly faces upon their
reflections.”
“Oogly faces?” asked Malfurion.
“It was cute!” said Prestor.
Krasus mouthed: Oogly faces...
They shuffled on through again, hiding themselves within the chaos of the hammering.
They came across the tunnel where Prestor and Malfurion saw Deathwing slink himself through
before. Harden, black, volcanic rock littered in oddly shaped ‘pools’ along the walkway. Then, a
bellow sounded from the vast chamber onward. Pieces of rock fell from the ceiling as the
chamber shook.
“Meklo! I have returned! This next shall work or I will dine on every miserable one of
your kind...with you as my appetizer!”
“What a loud mouth,” grumbled Prestor as they came to the clearing looking out over
Deathwing’s main lair.
“Yes, we’ve met,” said Krasus, turning his head to Prestor, and recalling those time where
his even more thunderous voice shook and broke the ground.
The goblin known as Meklo turned around just as Deathwing burst through.
Brox, shaken by the horrible transformation of the former Earth-Warder, could barely
speak a swear. Prestor craned his head down, his mouth drew a tight frown. His eyes narrowed.
“Meklo!” Deathwing bellowed again. “My good patience is at an end! Have you the new
plates, or not?”
Upon the Black Dragon’s body were already a few plates spaced here and there, but
these, like the ones they saw earlier, were damaged. Obviously the power that was consuming
and swelling Deathwing could not be held back by these inferior plates.
“Two!” Meklo called, gesturing where they were toiling hard. “Two! See, my lord?”
“Stronger than the last, I hope,” said Deathwing. “They failed miserably!” He growled.
And then he spoke much more lowly. “If only we had the elementium plates my...dear beloved
whelp of an Earth-Warder had...”
“Elementium?” asked Meklo. “There are pieces here and there. But, not enough to build
the armor like you want. Where would we get such material?”
“Somewhere...where he’s been,” said Deathwing. “And how did he do it?”
Prestor growled, a snarl appearing upon his face.
“He saw your new plates?” asked Krasus.
“Shut up,” growled Prestor, his eyes narrowing. If he had blood in this form, it would be
boiling as well.
“Enough,” said Krasus. “You three continue on. I shall remove myself from this cave. I
do not want him to sense me.”
With that, the mage vanished.
“We are on our own,” said Prestor. He turned back to his former self again and growled.
“But these will do just as well,” said Meklo. “Imbued with the energies you instructed us
to do. The mix is perfect. Stronger than steel, but light as a feather! A mixture of iron and
adamantine.”
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They brought out the first of the plates to be inspected by the Betrayer. However, Prestor
knew there would be needed more to do exactly what Deathwing wanted. Deathwing eyed the
plate with eagerness. His breath became labored as the fiery plate passed him.
“All we need to do is set it in the water tank for a short time,” said Meklo. “Then...”
“No!” Deathwing roared.
“Beg pardon, my lord?”
“I want it bolted now!” Deathwing reared.
“But the remaining heat will only add to the stress on you,” Meklo warned with fear.
“The bolts have to be hot out of necessity. Surely, it would do only to wait a little...”
The Black Dragon growled, stomping the floor mere inches form the goblin. He lowered
his massive head down: “Now!”
Meklo’s eyes widened and he swallowed: “Yes, my Lord Neltharion. At once! My Lord
Neltharion!” He routed upon the others. “Move, you bastards!”
“Here we go,” said Prestor he watched the goblins heft the first plate. Malfurion looked
to the much older Earth-Warder, his eyes now wide. Prestor turned to him. “You gonna watch
them dress me? Go right ahead.”
With wide, gaping eyes and mouthes, the orc and the elf looked on with silent terror as
the massive Black Dragon settled to the ground, exposing his right flank. A wing lifted up,
revealing the gaping rips that seethed with liquid fire.
“Do it now!” Deathwing roared.
“Get the bolts ready!” Meklo ordered. “Hot as possible!”
Prestor cleared his throat: “You know, funny story. I was in Uldum with Calia. We were
going after a goblin who wanted a doomsday machine...”
Several dozen goblins maneuvered a pair of gigantic tongues into a furnace. As they
looked on, the goblins plucked a massive bolt as large as Prestor’s stone dragon golem from the
furnace.
“Hammer crew! Ready the machine!”
“And then I met up with one of my sons...” said Prestor, trying to continue with his story
despite the noise of the crew raising the massive hammers in place. “His name was Myzerian.
And he didn’t like the fact I became good...you know...”
The hammer pulled back by chains and pulleys.
“The plate!” Deathwing bellowed. “Set it place!”
Prestor continued his story: “Well, we had a little fight, you see, and Myzerian grabbed
hold of my spine plates and tore about three of them clean off!”
Then, the goblins swayed back and forth with the plate, trying desperately to position it
properly despite Deathwing’s heavy breathing. Finally, with a signal from Meklo, they leaned
forward and let the plate fall against the hide. The three kept watching, Malfurion swallowing
hard. A searing sounded through the cavern, but the terrible rip under the plate caused it to
shake. However, it did not fall off.
“It’s holding,” said Meklo. “Quickly! The bolts!”
Malfurion wiped his mouth and then felt his beard, shivering at the sight he was seeing.
Brox was silent, his eyes narrowed as he clutched his dagger white-knuckle tight. Prestor’s
former self seemed to be in ecstasy, elation as the plate was being sealed upon the rip in his hide.
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His mouth was in a twisted smile, his glowing eyes half lidded. His chest heaved in and out
faster and faster.
“Well, I killed him,” said Prestor, continuing his efforts to get their
thoughts off of the maddening scene they were witnessing. “Because he was
helping that goblin. And Calia and I picked up the plates he tore off and
we went to a blacksmith.
Luckily the guy knew how to repair
elementium plates and he heated those things up white hot...just like
what you’re looking at now...so...”
The goblins that held the tongs brought the gigantic bolt
to one of the several holes located around the edge of the
plate. Malfurion darted his eyes back and forth, counting
each hole in the plate. There were about a dozen or so. He
gripped hard the rock ledge he leaned upon, his jaw
setting. The goblins maneuvered the bolts into one of the
holes, despite the difficulty with the dragon’s breathing.
Another group popped another bolt in and so on and so
forth until all the holes were filled.
“Get the hammer in place!” called Meklo. “Ready
for the striking.”
“And once he repaired it, he and his crew had
to...hammer the plates back on...” said Prestor. “To my
damned spine!”
“Pull!” Meklo called.
As he was nearing the end of his story, the goblins got their
cue and the hammer swung down and struck the bolt, driving it deep into
the dragon’s scales. Deathwing bellowed out in agony as the bolt was drove deep into him, but
the pain soon gave way to bliss as he called for another strike.
“Again!”
One by one, each of the hammers follow suit, striking each bolt into place. When finally
the plate was held in place, they readied the second one. Prestor sighed as he looked to the now
wide eyed druid and orc. Both turned to him, casting the horror they expressed for the dragon
who had those plates welded upon his hide, to the dragon that he would become.
“Let’s just say...” began Prestor. “I wasn’t a very happy dragon when they were driving in
the bolts.” He took in a virtual breath. “Calia always hated it when I had to get one of my plates
repaired. She could never stand hearing my...agony as they drove in the bolts.”
“Let’s just find the Demon Soul,” said Malfurion.
Prestor sniffed and nodded: “Yeah. Come on, Brox.”
As they filed down through the tunnel, Prestor paused, hearing the sound of tumbling
rock. His eyes grew wide and he took hold of the two others, pressing them against the wall.
There, a humanoid shape made of a pile of boulders that seemed to be held together by an unseen
force. The stone creature turned and then floated away. They peered over the rim as the creature
disappeared down the other tunnel.
“What was that?” asked Malfurion.
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“An earth elemental,” said Prestor. He looked around, searching through the rubble
tracks left by the elemental. His claws sifted through and then he came upon a shiny, black rock.
Lifting it up, he held it for the orc an the elf to see. “Look, elementium ore.”
“That’s where it comes from?” asked Brox.
“Not many elementals on Azeroth right now,” said Prestor. “That’s why elementium is so
rare.” He looked around, sensing the pulsating darkness of the Demon Soul. He was nearing.
Tossing the ore to the ground, he waved to the others. “Come on. It’s this way.”
They finally came to the spot where Prestor felt the vibrations from the disk grow. The
Black Dragon leapt upon the wall and started to thrust his claw straight through the rock.
Malfurion and Brox urged him on, looking back where they heard the agonizing roar of
Deathwing.
“Hurry,” said Brox. “I don’t want to stay here any longer than I should!”
“You’re scared?” asked Prestor, feeling around for the disk.
“No,” the orc replied.
“Liar,” said Prestor.
“Just hurry,” said Malfurion. “Before...”
Prestor paused, smelling something putrid, something disgusting, something nasty move
towards them. He turned just to see a tall, hulking creature with knobby skin, oily black hair,
and a muddy, rocky face. A pair of tusks grew from its bottom lip. A black glowing gem was
embedded in his forehead, Deathwing’s method of keeping him under his thrall.
“Oh, shit!” he growled.
“Hello, supper...” the creature said.
“Troll!” Brox called.
“What is a...” Malfurion asked.
“Never the fuck mind,” said Prestor. “Just distract him while I get the disk.”
Brox growled angrily and raised his axe. More trolls followed, bounding out of the holes
in the walls. They all started in for the two. A troll climbed the wall, gripping hold of the rock
like a spider. Malfurion concentrated upon one of his spells, calling upon the strength of nature
to aid him. As he allowed the energies to flow into him, gathering into his hands, he sealed the
final one, aiming it for the troll. The spell fizzled.
“He’s got a magical dampener here,” said Prestor.
“A what?” Malfurion asked just as the troll snatched him up and flung him to the wall.
“You make a pretty splat, supper,” said the troll. “Eat your brains raw and cook your liver
for something special...”
The troll seized his wrist and hoisted him up. Malfurion gripped hold of the troll’s arm,
digging his nails into the muscle. From down below a shriek sounded and the troll became
distracted. Brox leapt up and buried his dagger deep into the attacker’s shoulder. The troll
toppled over as Malfurion kicked him in the stomach. Brox swung his axe, cleaving the head
off. Blood splattered everywhere. Another grappled with Malfurion slinging him down to the
floor. Malfurion rolled backwards, taking the troll with him.
“Blood’s Shadow!” called Brox. “Do something!”
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Prestor growled and slammed his tail against the rock. Out from below, popped
duplicates of Neltharions, each one coated with a different assortment of rock. One was even
made of pure crystal.
“How’s this?” asked the voices of the multiple Prestors. The dragons dove into the fight,
clawing, biting, slashing at the trolls. Malfurion finally was able to put a spell to use, calling
upon his powers once more. He felt a tickling feeling leave his fingers and onto the back of the
troll. Then, the creature began to squirm uncontrollably. He dropped the druid, who backed
away to notice thousands of insects crawling all over him. With the troll distracted, Malfurion
swung his fist upon the jaw of the troll, sending it leering back. He looked to the crystal Prestor
who then tore through the troll. The black stone Prestor still felt around for the disk. Then, his
claw came upon it, sensing its evil energies along with the powers of all the other Aspects. He
pulled away from the rock only to find the golden disk in the palm of his claw.
“I’ve got it,” he said. “Just keep them distracted a little bit more...I have to remove the
protective spells.”
“Hurry...” said Malfurion as he watched the last of the trolls be dealt with by the other
stone dragons and Brox.
Prestor closed his eyes, resting upon the ledge. He held the golden disk in his claws,
silently whispering to himself as he began to unravel the protective spells. He knew the spells
very well, he knew how to cast them, for he had cast them himself. Piece by piece, bit by bit, he
pealed away the protection, sensing his over powering energies keeping locked the essence of the
other dragons. Then, he felt the greater darkness inside, the black tentacles now seeping out
from the disk.
The whelp is trying to foil our plans...
Or is he?
Hello, Neltharion.
Have you come to play with us again?
N’Zoth, Prestor projected into the disk, recognizing the voice. No...
Take the disk with you, Neltharion.
We know what you are planning.
We will it to happen!
Deathwing has proven himself most unreliable.
However you, whelp, you will do our bidding at least one last time.
I do not do this for you, Yogg-Saron, Prestor called out the second name. The future is
written. When you finally get your Hour of Twilight, you will find a world unable to even
support you.
So it may seem...
Do as you must.
We will not stop you, Neltharion.
Take your Demon Soul!
“I have it,” said Prestor. A time for celebration was over. Echoed through the cavern was
a deafening roar. Prestor felt his heart stop and he started to gasp, heaving in and out. His
dragons fell back to the walls. “We gotta leave...now!”
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The tunnel thundered as the Black Dragon, half dressed in his new armor stormed out
from his lair.
“This mountain will be your tomb!” he bellowed. The three ran as the rumbling grew
closer, hearts pounding, chest aching. Brox commanded his legs to run as fast as they could
despite their screams of defiance. Malfurion turned to the galloping stone dragon running along
beside him.
“Use it!” he called. “Use the disk!”
“I can’t,” said Prestor.
“Why not?” asked Malfurion gasping as he ran. “You made it.”
“This golem cannot wield the power of the Demon Soul,” said Prestor. “It was made from
a part of my blood and so...me...as in my body flesh and blood must wield it. A piece of rock
cannot!”
“Then let me,” said Malfurion.
“Don’t,” said Prestor. “I dare not let you touch this evil thing. It will change you as it
changed me...him!”
“Somebody better do something!” said Brox. “We are all dragon food if you don’t!”
“Don’t worry,” said Prestor. With every pad he made, he could feel life seeping through
the rock. A joyous vibration echoed into the chamber unheard by Deathwing, but bringing a
smile to Prestor. “Just keep running...my real self is almost here...”
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Tea with the Dragonqueen
PRESTOR LANDED IN THE glade surrounded by a forest of crimson trees. All was silent
save for a screech of a hawk in the distance. For all he knew, he felt like he was the only being
there. The rustle of the leaves told him otherwise. Prestor waited silently, lowering to his belly.
His great black wings folded swiftly to his back, stirring up a few loose leaves on the ground.
He felt a tingle of nervousness in his claws and he pawed the ground. His tail swayed with
agitation, the metal bladed tip thumping the ground. He began to word in his mind what all he
could say to Alexstrasza. What should he say? What can he say? Where should he draw the
line? He was a time displaced Earth-Warder and she had just seen his former self betray her and
kill half the Blue Dragonflight. How would she react to him now if he told her she was
responsible for bringing him back? His tail thumped harder and the pads of his paws tingled so
much they began to ache. Still, he remained silent, preferring not to look threatening. He knew
they were watching him, studying him, seeing what he could do. Prestor growled in frustration
and rolled over to his back. This position had meaning, it was a stance of submission. With his
belly exposed, he signaled to the others that he was safe. The rustling leaves quickened and he
could hear many of them heading his way. Prestor began to breathe heavily as he heard the beat
of large wings coming closer. The first to appear were the dragon spawn armed with swords and
pikes. Next were several small crimson drakes, fanning their wings as they landed and snapping
their jaws at him. Then several adult dragons landed, growling at him. They parted to let an
enormous dragon followed by an entourage of elder wyrms land in the open. Prestor rolled to his
feet and looked at the dragons who encircled him. Alexstrasza, the Life-Binder rose her head to
study the strange, massive Black Dragon who held the face of her betraying, murderous brother.
Her eyes narrowed with intent. Walking up beside her was her current Prime Consort
Tyranastrasz. The consort was much, much larger than Korialstrasz. Prestor recalled that he
would eventually die by the sinister claws of Deathwing himself. Upon seeing him for the first
time in 20 years, at least for Prestor, he felt his heart quiver and drop below his knees.
“He is big,” said Tyranastrasz. “Bigger than any dragon I know, my Queen.” He swung
his head to her. “And he does look like Neltharion.”
“But is he Neltharion?” asked Alexstrasza. She stepped forward. “Are you the one who
Korialstrasz calls Prestor?”
“I am Prestor,” he replied, straightening his back. Some of his metallic plates clanked as
he moved. “Life Queen.”
“That does not sound like the name of a black dragon,” said Tyranastrasz.
“It is the name I go by,” said Prestor.
“And what is your real name?” asked Alexstrasza.
Prestor swallowed. He glanced around at the murmuring of the other dragons. His lips
perched together. Taking a deep breath and blinking softly and shook his head.
“You told Malygos,” said Alexstrasza. “Why not me?”
“I...I...” he began, trying to find a good reason for it. Prestor lowered his head and
sighed. “My name is Neltharion, I am the creation of Khaz’Goroth, created to Ward the land and
the deep places below.”
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The murmuring grew louder. Prestor looked around him again and then focused upon his
younger sister.
“I was told not to speak to you,” he continued.
“And who told you this?” asked the Life Queen.
“Our brother...Nozdormu.”
“You have seen Nozdormu?”
“You might say he sent me here,” he said.
Alexstrasza slowly approached him and began to circle him. She studied his form, lifting
his tail by the blade, running her claws down the metal plates. She touched the metallic armor
covering the leading edge of his wings. She took note of his size, her head barely reaching his
enormous chest. She saw the glowing stretch marks between the plates, revealing themselves as
he took in a deep breath. With a claw, she gently lifted one of the thick chest scales up. The
glow pulsated as his heart slowly thumped in his chest. Then, she rounded to the front and
reared to her hind legs. Leaning upon his chest with her front paws, she looked deeply into his
green eyes. They locked their gaze with each other and silent images passed between them. She
saw visions of death and destruction, future events that the monster who she called her brother
would perform. Then, she saw the moment where she reached out to him and the madness that
took him was cured. All that replaced the hatred and madness was deep remorse, heaviness, but
eventually love and happiness. She saw the future of her brother hugging her and she hugged,
making up for the centuries they spent apart. He was her brother again.
I don’t want to lose you again, Neltharion, she heard herself say from his memories.
You didn’t lose me, Alex, I lost myself, he said to her.
She raised a claw to his cheek. He saw her memories, especially the events that had just
happened. He could sense the betrayal. Her heart was ripped out. He was her brother, born just
before her. She relied on him and he stepped on her sisterly love. He called her a traitor,
accused her for crimes she did not understand and then annihilated most of Malygos’ flight for
even trying to help him. Neltharion wanted to rule over all else. Prestor did not, she could tell.
Alexstrasza felt the sting of tears fall from her eyes.
“I see why you call yourself Prestor, Neltharion,” she said. “But why? What crimes have
I wronged you with? I don’t understand, why did you betray us?”
“You have done nothing,” said Prestor. “No wrongs, no crimes. What spoke to you that
night was the voice of a paranoid, maddened mind, controlled by the evils he was meant to guard
against.”
“Evils?” asked Alexstrasza. “What evils?”
“As I told Malygos,” said Prestor. “You are asking too much. Only know that I am sorry
for all I did back there. It will get better. It will, and I won’t leave my dear sister again.”
Alexstrasza let herself fall upon his chest. Prestor gave in and wrapped his forelegs
around her and he curled his thick neck over her head.
“Neltharion,” she said, her voice cracking in repeating her question. “Why? Why?” She
sobbed, burying her face in his chest. “Why?”
“Because of what I am,” he replied. “That’s why.”
He let a tear drop from his right eye, holding her closely.
“I have to watch you perform such evil acts,” said Alexstrasza. “For so long...”
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“Yes,” he said. “Because I am being controlled. I don’t want to do those things. I don’t
want turn against you. They hope that you will eventually kill me.”
He pulled himself away from her and sighed. Alexstrasza rumbled and shook her head.
“I will not kill my own brother,” she said.
“You might change your mind...” he rumbled. “For everything I have done, you would
wonder if I deserve to be saved. There is a large part of me who believes I shouldn’t.”
Prestor turned to her and smiled at her weakly.
“There is hope,” said Alexstrasza. “You are here.”
Prestor rumbled again in agreement: “So I am.” He took in a deep breath and placed a
claw upon his sister’s shoulder. “Maybe you should know, sister...all this, my madness
included...were the plans of...”
His words were broken by a scream of panic: He is coming! He is coming!
Krasus? Prestor swung around, his heart thumping in his chest as his mind was beaten
with the fear of another. His eye became unfocused as he tried to feel around for the source of
the voice. Krasus? What’s happening?
“Neltharion?” Alexstrasza asked.
Prestor, help! Now!
“I fear I may have to cut this short, sister,” he said, turning to her, his face paling.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Krasus,” Prestor replied. “I have to help Krasus. Malfurion the night elf and the orc
Brox. They’re in trouble.”
He began to zero in upon what his golem was doing. In the stone dragon’s claw was the
Demon Soul.
“Titans, they have it!” he breathed. “They have it! And my...past self is coming after
them!”
“Have it?” asked Tyranastrasz. “Have what?”
“We had the idea to steal the Dragon Soul from my former self,” said Prestor. “So that
you all would have nothing to fear. So, I...manifested an avatar to help them while I was here
with you. They got it, but they’re...trapped. They can’t get out and my golem can’t get them out
and...Deathwing is hunting them down!”
“Deathwing?” asked Alexstrasza. “Who’s Deathwing?”
“Me!” said Prestor. “I’m Deathwing! That’s what everyone will call me...call him...my
past self. The name of Neltharion has died, it died the moment he betrayed you. That’s why I
won’t call myself Neltharion nor call my former self Neltharion either. I’m Prestor, he’s
Deathwing. And if I don’t get there, he’s gonna kill the two people who are stealing the Dragon
Soul from him.”
“Deathwing...” Alexstrasza breathed. Then she nodded. “He does not deserve to have my
beloved brother’s name anymore...not until...”
“The day will come when Neltharion returns,” said Prestor. “I promise.”
“Go,” said Alexstrasza. “Prestor. Save my beloved...save both of them and those who are
helping them.”
“If we get the Dragon Soul away from Deathwing, will you finally come?” asked Prestor.
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“Yes,” said Alexstrasza. “Oh, the bravery of mortals, risking themselves to help us! Of
course we’ll come! We’d be fools not to.”
“Thank you, sister,” said Prestor. He spread his great wings and launched into the sky,
flying as fast as he could through the air. Alexstrasza looked to her Prime Consort and nodded.
By her command, all red dragons spread their wings and took off, flying towards the Night Elf
lands.
§§§
“Give it to me!” Malfurion called, turning to the stone dragon. “If you cannot use it, then
at least give it to someone who can. I will be able to use its power at least to save our hides!”
“And risk you falling to the voices’ whims as well?” asked Prestor. “You are nuts, druid.
This thing is not yours to use. You cannot control its power.”
“Neither could you,” said Malfurion, reaching for the Demon Soul. They ducked as a
splash of molten lava came towards them.
“Give it back!” Deathwing bellowed. “Now!”
“I can control it, a lot better than you!” Prestor called.
Rocks fell upon them as they made their way through a narrow tunnel, following the draft
of air that Malfurion had sensed earlier. The stone dragon did his best to clear much of the rocks
and to keep them safe, but even his powers had limits. Deathwing was closing in, blasting at the
tunnels.
“I will burn all of you!” Deathwing called.
“Oh, shut the fuck up!” Prestor echoed back.
“This isn’t the time for you to argue with yourself,” said Malfurion.
“Oh...ha..ha...!” Prestor snorted. “Funny. Funny elf.”
Just as the mountain continued to rumble, Prestor stopped running. Malfurion and Brox
turned around.
“Prestor!” called Malfurion.
“Blood’s Shadow, what are you doing?” asked Brox.
Prestor opened his claw as the Demon Soul began to glow. He smiled slightly and let the
Demon Soul drop to the ground. Then, his form crumbled into a pile of black rocks.
“Prestor?” asked Malfurion.
The Demon Soul began to float above the floor of the tunnel. A massive claw broke
through the floor and the Demon Soul landed upon it. Another massive claw tore through the
floor where the druid and the orc stood, grabbing hold of them. Malfurion closed his eyes, saying
whatever prayers he could say to both Elune and Cenarius. All three of them were enveloped
within the glow of a golden light. As Deathwing pushed himself further through the tunnel, the
glow suddenly vanished. The monstrous Black Dragon bellowed.
Far above the mountain peak, Prestor hovered. In one claw, he had the Demon Soul, and
in the other, his comrades. Malfurion’s heart quaked in his chest, his eyes bulging out and his
breath shallow.
“I think I just shat myself,” said Brox, shakingly rising up.
Prestor turned his great head to the orc, his eyes wide.
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“I hope you didn’t do that on my paw, or I’m dropping you right now!” he growled.
Malfurion backed away from the edge of the massive paw and turned around, leaning
back upon a digit. Prestor chuckled at the druid.
“You doubted my ability to use this thing?” he asked. “I told you, it won’t affect me like
it did before. I once used the Dragon Soul against one of my creations to save all of Azeroth.
And what happened to the Blue Dragonflight, the same thing happened to the evil Twilight Cult
as well. All turned to dust. It can be used for great good...”
“But the darkness,” said Malfurion. “What is that darkness?”
“Aye, the darkness,” said Prestor. “This disk is a power conduit to a source even greater
than the dragons. However, that source comes from three main beings bound in Azeroth. Those
creatures I told you about, the parasites. That’s them.”
“It’s channeling their power as well,” said Malfurion.
“That’s why I won’t let you touch it,” said Prestor. “Through the disk, they can speak to
you and take control of your mind. You’ll be as needy of the disk as Deathwing is.”
“But you...why are you...?”
“Immune?” asked Prestor. “It’s like a type of illness. Once you’re afflicted, if you are
cured, you’re cured for life. My mind has become hardened to their voices. It doesn’t mean I
can’t hear them, it only means they cannot control me anymore. They are talking to me right
now and I piss on everything they say!”
He raised his claw and allowed them to settle themselves between his enormous horns.
“I will say this,” he continued. “You have to dive deep into your madness to be cured.
And do the most dark and heinous things as well. Allow your mind to be torn asunder and be
called a monster for the rest of your life. It’s not worth the price. Best not ever coming in
contact with them at all, druid. Which is why neither of you are touching this disk!”
Below him, the mountain shook violently. The snow upon the peak slowly began to melt
due to the massive heat generated by Deathwing’s rage. Then, finally, the mountain blew its top.
Prestor dove down and away as the ash cloud funneled up into the air. This one was the worst.
Pyroclastic debris flowed out from the peak of the mountain, flattening the dead trees along its
slope. Roaring out from the newly formed crater came Deathwing.
“Ah, if it isn’t the whelp!” he bellowed. “Give me back my disk, Neltharion.”
“Piss off, monster,” Prestor bellowed. He lifted his claw that held the Demon Soul.
“You cannot destroy me with it,” said Deathwing. “No more than I can destroy you.”
“True,” said Prestor. Then he rose his other claw, pointing a thumb talon downward
towards the surface of the disk. “But like you, I can destroy it!”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Deathwing called, his eyes lighting up with horror.
“Wouldn’t I?” Prestor asked. “Fly away, Deathwing. Fly away, or the Dragon Soul gets
smashed.”
“I will kill you!” Deathwing fumed, fluttering closer to his counterpart.
“And I will destroy it before you do,” said Prestor. “Now, be a good boy and go away.”
Deathwing let loose a roar of outrage and turned away. Prestor sighed and lowered his
claw.
“A close one,” said Brox.
“He will return though,” said Malfurion.
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108
“He will,” said Prestor. “But he won’t dare attack us so long as I hold the disk...at least
for now. He fears that I will destroy it.”
Then he dove down to the forest below the mountain, and away from the surge of hot ash.
As he landed in a wide opening, he set his passengers down and swiftly shrank to a more
convenient size. Prestor touched the disk and formed a glowing golden chain from its top,
looping it round his neck.
“But why not destroy it?” asked Brox. “That disk is evil, it should be destroyed.”
“Because it cannot be destroyed right now,” said Prestor. “Eventually, it will. Right now,
it can’t.”
“Why?” asked Malfurion.
They started walking, stepping over downed tree trucks and rocks. Prestor rolled his
eyes.
“It just can’t,” said Prestor.
“You’re holding back something, Prestor,” said Malfurion. “And I want to know what it
is. You and Krasus seem a little jittery about something...something having to do with that disk.
Now I heard you say something about splitting a continent. The only continent existing is
Kalimdor. Now, what is going to happen? Why won’t you destroy the Demon Soul?”
Prestor paused and huffed a cloud of black smoke from his mouth. He turned back to the
druid, his green eyes flaring.
“Because if I do, then the future is lost!” he replied. “I wanted to destroy the Demon
Soul. No one on this world wants it gone more than me! It’s my creation, it’s my sin, I created, I
should destroy it. But I can’t. Not now.”
He clinched his teeth and lifted the disk to his eyes. He peered into his reflection upon
the shiny, golden surface, seeing it warped by its convex shape.
“This thing was brought to my time so that I may use it to stop the end of the world,” he
said, his voice wavering in his throat. “My wife...Calia...she got ahold of it and it started to
corrupt her. I had to see her turn against me...and I had to fight her. I was...lucky to save her
from its evil. But then I had to use the damned thing, to kill thousands of lives as I have done
before, but this time for a good reason. But certain events must happen to shape the world I live
in. One of those events this disk helps create. It’s coming, in a few days time, it is coming. And
it has to happen.” Prestor turned his head to Malfurion. “Don’t worry, you survive it, druid. You
and Tyrande and many others. But this land will be changed forever. One continent will become
three.” He finally gave in. “We call it the Sundering in my time.”
Malfurion took in a breath, trying desperately to digest all that he had heard. He felt
weak in the knees. His head wagged and his mouth opened and closed like a fish fighting for air.
His eyes stared at the Black Dragon. Prestor lowered his head.
“The Sundering!” Brox called. “You mean it happens now?”
“Yes,” said Prestor.
“You...” Malfurion turned to Brox, his eyes growing wider. “You knew? You knew about
this...Sundering?”
“Everyone in the world knows about the Sundering,” said Brox. “It’s one of the reasons
why traveling from Kalimdor to the Eastern Kingdoms is hazardous. There’s a big Maelstrom in
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the center of the Great Sea. We all have to chart our ships to follow different paths or get
swallowed up by the whirlpool.”
“Maelstrom?” asked Malfurion.
“The center where it all happened,” said Prestor. “It is the Well of Eternity. Or it was.”
He walked over to the druid and huffed again. “Malfurion, the Well has to be destroyed. It’s the
thing that calls the demons. And this...” he touched the disk. “Has the power to destroy it.” He
lowered his claw. “It also has the power to bring the leader of the Burning Legion to Azeroth.
That leader is Sargeras. That is what Queen Azshara is working on, she wants Sargeras to come
here. And when he does, he will devour our world. She believes he will grant her great power,
but that is not true. She is as fooled as I was to the voices of the Old Gods.” Prestor took in a
deep breath. “The Well is tainted, druid. Even you seem to agree to that.”
“It has to be destroyed,” said Malfurion. “But the destruction...”
“It is unfortunate,” said Prestor. “But by doing so, despite what happens, you will prevent
the Burning Legion from finding Azeroth again. You will save everyone. The Sundering will
happen, but what comes from it will be a better world.”
“I...did know that the Well had to be destroyed,” said Malfurion. “I just never knew...the
cost of destroying it.”
“That price is worth it,” said Prestor. He turned the disk up to his eyes. “I’ll have to work
on some spells to hide it from my other self.”
No need...
Prestor blinked and sighed: “Right...you’ll do it for me, won’t you, N’Zoth?”
We do not wish to return to him.
“Of course not,” said Prestor.
Malfurion tilted his head, confused by what he was seeing. The dragon was talking to
himself. Prestor looked up and smiled.
“N’Zoth,” he said. “He’s been the...chatterbox that well...turned me into that monstrosity
you saw.” Prestor looked down at the disk and replied to some unheard question. “No, you may
not meet the druid! You are going to stay away from the druid! Bad squid monster.”
You are no fun, Neltharion.
“Shut it,” said Prestor.
Brox held to his axe, poise as if he was about to strike.
“Put away the axe,” said Prestor. “They can talk to me all they want. And that is all
they’ll get.” He sighed. “They are making sure to hide the disk’s energies from Deathwing.”
“Why?” asked Malfurion. “Why would...they do that?”
“Because they don’t want to go back to him,” said Prestor.
“How...thoughtful of them...” said Malfurion.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” said Prestor. “They’re only doing this because they know they
can get something out of it in return. What, I don’t know. I never knew, in fact, not as
Deathwing, and not as myself. But they want something. I’m just doing what needs to be done.”
They continue their walk, keeping their eyes upon the sky for any sign of Deathwing’s
approach. For one split moment, they thought they heard a roar off in the distance, but still no
sign of Prestor’s former self. As they continued their trek, Prestor could not help to notice a
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growing, gloomy, gray haze covering the forest. They trekked deeper in and Prestor could have
sworn he saw the brilliant color of his feathers become stolen by the gloom. All color just
seemed to disappear around him. He felt a chill rattle down his spine and dark eyes watching
him. Then, a slam from an armored figure with wings knocked Malfurion down. A Doomguard
attacked. Another creature with tentacles and the size of a night saber bounded behind him,
coming for Prestor. It was a felbeast. Prestor all but touched the Demon Soul and the beast
suddenly burst into ash within a golden flash. Malfurion grappled with the Doomguard as Brox
leapt for him, axe in hand. Another flash of gold and the Doomguard burst as well. Brox fell
upon his faec and Malfurion rose from the ground. Prestor stood there and shrugged, the disk
around his neck glowing.
“That was easy,” the dragon said.
“You could have done that earlier,” said Malfurion.
“I didn’t sense him,” said Prestor. “He was flying.”
“And his pet?” asked Brox.
“Light on his feet,” said Prestor.
“We need to find Krasus,” said Malfurion. “If you would fly us there...”
“Deathwing is up there,” said Prestor. “I don’t want him to get the disk. We’re safer
down on the ground.”
“Safer he says...” said Brox, throwing up his hands in frustration.
Prestor sighed and then touched the disk. A fan of glowing energy flowed out from it.
“There, you satisfied?” he asked. “No demon will come within 50 feet of us so long as I
keep this up.”
Once more they started their walk, Prestor sweeping the beam around to guard them from
demon attack. A few more demons leapt out of the trees only to be rendered to ash the moment
they came in contact with the golden beam.
“I feel like a damned lighthouse,” Prestor rumbled as he swung the Demon Soul around
in an arc.
“Lighthouses don’t talk,” said Brox.
As they strode further, Prestor suddenly lost sight completely. As if a darkness covered
his eyes, he could no longer see. However, that did not mean he could not feel. Immediately, the
vibrations became stronger as feet raced for him. Prestor struck where the source of the
vibrations were coming from with his lava. Then, something thumped upon his head. The
dragon toppled over. Malfurion and Brox were quickly subdued as well. Prestor soon regained
consciousness, lying still as he heard voices speaking. A metallic grazing sound was heard and
he felt the chain around his neck lifted.
“You let them live, why?” came a voice that was indeed Night Elf.
“These two will be of great interest to our lord?”
“What of the dragon?”
“Kill it...”
Prestor’s sightless eyes widened and he held his breath. He heard Malfurion muffle in
protest.
“Oh, and why, dear brother?” asked the second Night Elf voice. Whatever it was that
kept Malfurion from speaking, it was soon removed.
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“I would not kill him,” said Malfurion. “He is the dragon who made the disk.”
“The mad dragon who wielded this great power,” said the strange Night Elf. “You don’t
seem to be bursting at the seams anymore.”
“I...got better,” said Prestor. “Nice going, druid. Why don’t you tell him where my home
is too...”
The voice continued: “Cooperate, all of you. That is all I ask. Cooperate and you all may
live.”
“Queen Azshara would like to speak with you, dragon,” said the other voice. “As well as
our lord.”
“Goodie,” Prestor said through his clinched fangs. “I’d love to talk to him also. I’m sure
we’d be the best of friends!”
He felt a whack upon his head.
“Ow!” he growled. “Not nice to pick on a blind dragon.”
“You will get your sight back soon enough,” said the second voice.
“Allow me to give you my thanks when I do, Illidan Stormrage,” said Prestor.
There was a pause in Illidan’s voice and Prestor could hear him chuckle.
“You know me,” he said. “I never knew that my name would be known to a Dragon
Aspect.”
“Word gets around about you, Illidan,” said Prestor as he rose to his feet. Though he was
blinded, he could still see very well through the combinations of vibrations and his keen hearing.
“And I’m surprised you know what an Aspect is.”
“I’m not so ignorant as you lofty dragons think,” said Illidan, a smile appearing in his
voice.
As they began walking, Prestor swatted Malfurion with his tail.
“What?” Malfurion asked.
“Don’t spill the beans next time,” Prestor growled.
“I was saving your life,” he protested.
“Like I need your help to save my life.”
“No thanks necessary then,” Malfurion grumbled.
112
A Ripe Pickle
PRESTOR HATED HAVING having to walk upon his hind legs with his front paws bound and
his wings tied to his sides. He was haunched over, his tail dragging on the ground. Still, he
could see very clearly through the ground. Even then, he still walked more awkwardly than
Malfurion, who too shared his blindness. He could smell the presence of a few demons walking
along them, keeping guard. Illidan and Varo’then, the captain that rode along with them were
chatting, revealing their plan rather loudly.
“And this disk will do everything you say it will, sorcerer?” Varo’then asked.
“It will,” said Illidan. “And more. Isn’t that right, dragon?”
“I kicked your demons’ asses with it,” said Prestor.
“But can it be powerful enough to transform the portal to what Sargeras desires?” asked
Varo’then, glancing back at the dragon.
“Possibly,” replied Prestor.
“Interesting how corporative you are,” said Illidan. “I would never expect that out of an
Aspect.”
“What are you doing?” asked Malfurion, hissing at Prestor.
“They will try to put the Demon Soul over the Well of Eternity,” whispered Prestor. “In
attempt to bring Sargeras here. Fortunately, the result will be as we want...the destruction of the
Well itself.”
“You are wanting this to happen,” said Malfurion.
“It has to get to the Well of Eternity somehow,” said Prestor. “Why not in the hand of
those who command it?”
Prestor felt the tug of the rope as he continued to follow along. Varo’then lifted the disk
from the pouch and held it to his eyes. He peered upon the perfect surface seeing his own
reflection in it. A smile curled upon Prestor’s face.
“It has the power greater than the dragons,” said Illidan.
“Perhaps we should test it then,” said Varo’then. He stopped his night saber and pointed
the disk at Prestor. He felt his will become one with the disk as a warmth fluctuated upon his
palm. A beam of light flashed upon Prestor, causing him to squint. He felt the warmth of the
beam upon his chest, but, it did not burn him. Varo’then lowered the disk, disappointed. “It
should have harmed him...”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Prestor. “Was I supposed to scream in pain at that time? Here, try it
again, this time I’ll do it right!”
“This disk is garbage!” Varo’then shouted, looking towards Illidan. “You lied!”
“I don’t understand,” said Illidan. “He should have been writhing in pain.”
Prestor chuckled and shrugged. Illidan pulled his mount up beside the Aspect.
“Why didn’t it hurt you?” he demanded.
“Because all members of every flight gave of themselves,” said Prestor. “Except one.
Myself and my flight.” He took a sniff to the air. “I sense you have a scale of mine. Was that
how you found us? Ingenious. If you scrape that scale across the surface, you’ll find something
rather interesting. But I wouldn’t...especially if you plan to use the disk for its intended
purpose.”
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“Why?” asked Illidan.
“As I am its creator,” Prestor began. “So am I the disk’s destroyer.”
“Then I think it prudent that it stays far away from you,” said Varo’then. “Illidan, do not
let that dragon touch the disk.”
“I will not,” said Illidan.
“Smart for a couple of mortals,” said Prestor.
“And that is enough out of you, beast,” said Varo’then. Prestor merely chuckled again.
He heard the sound of Malfurion stumble as he tried to keep up. The dragon could smell the
scent of blood. The druid’s knees were scuffed up from falling. Prestor, however, able to sense
every rock and tree, walked as if he never lost his sight. Still, his other eyes had their limits. He
could not manipulate the other elements like he could if he had his true eyes as well. Still, at
least he could technically see where he was going. Malfurion stumbled again, nearly falling
upon Prestor’s bladed tail. Swiftly, the dragon swept his tail out of the way to avoid an
unfortunate and fatal accident.
“Give him his sight back!” Prestor heard Brox call. “He’ll walk better then.”
“Very well,” said Illidan. He passed the dragon. “I suppose you want your sight back
too.”
“Well, it would make some things easier,” said Prestor. “Consider it payment for telling
you about the disk.”
“Granted.”
He lifted the scarf from his eyes to reveal the green, glowing sockets. The shadow that
blinded the two faded. Malfurion and Prestor blinked. Upon seeing Illidan’s glowing orbs, both
stared with silent horror and curiosity. Prestor lowered his head. He knew all too well what will
be the next transformation for Illidan Stormrage. The transformation had already begun.
Illidan’s fingers had elongated into crude claws. Even his feet were taloned. The affects of the
fel energy was already starting to corrupt him. Illidan gave a fanged smile.
“Illidan, I am so sorry...” whispered Malfurion.
“About what?” he asked. “I have been given something much more than greater sight. I
have lost nothing, understand?”
Then, he rode up front, ordering the rest to continue. Malfurion looked to Prestor, who’s
head hung low.
“My brother,” he said. “You knew this would happen to him too.”
“Knew,” said Prestor. “Did not know when it did.”
“What is he like, Illidan in your world?”
“As he is now,” said Prestor. “You just saw it in his eyes. What more do you want to
know?”
Malfurion shook his head: “Why...why would he...”
“Same reason why I fell to my own darkness,” said Prestor. “Power.” He took in a deep
breath. “But, does such a thing surprise you?”
“No,” said Malfurion. “It doesn’t. I should have seen it coming.”
“My sister said the same thing,” said Prestor.
They continued their trek downward towards Zin-Azshari, at least that is where Prestor
had a feeling that they were heading for. The elven city was located upon the shores of the Well
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of Eternity, exactly where he needed to be. Prestor passed his eyes from Illidan and Varo’then to
Malfurion. He noticed the druid whispering to himself and the night sabers growling hesitantly.
The dragon pulled up right beside him, fumbling as he went.
“You’re planning something,” he whispered.
“I’ve been talking with the cats,” said Malfurion.
“They agreed to help us?” asked Prestor.
“They will cooperate,” said Malfurion.
Prestor grinned and then nodded to Brox. Brox nodded back as if a silent plan was
passed between the three. The orc once more began to eye his axe as he had done for the entire
trip. His fingers were getting tingly from anticipation. The three continued on walking just
behind the two Night Elves and in front of the demons. Then, the cats paused, not willing to go
any further.
“What is the matter with this damned..” he whispered as he urged with the heels of his
feet for the cat to move. Suddenly he was bucked right off the saber’s back. Varo’then rolled to
the ground.
“You fool!” Illidan called, grappling the reins of his own mount, fighting for control.
Varo’then pulled his sword from its sheath. Brox rammed himself into the captain,
knocking him to the ground. He rushed to Varo’then’s mount, grazing his bound wrists upon his
axe and slicing them loose. Grabbing hold of his axe, Brox armed himself.
“Brox, the pouch!” called Malfurion.
Brox turned to the captain, who still sat, rubbing his head with shock and confusion. He
spied the pouch in which the Demon Soul still dangled from his belt. The orc raised his axe high
and charged for the Night Elf captain. Varo’then swiftly rolled away and then came to his feet a
few paces from Brox.
“You will pay for that, beast!” Varo’then called.
Prestor pulled upon his ropes, snapping them with his great strength. The demon guards
readied their weapons, charging for him. Malfurion stepped away, keeping his concentration
upon the control of the cats. Illidan whispered, sliding down off his own cat, preparing a spell.
Prestor swept his hind foot and then stamped it. The ground under the demons gave way and
they toppled into a deep pit. Prestor reared upon his hind legs and his front paws thrusted
powerfully forward as the ground slid close over them, trapping them. Illidan still concentrated,
gathering what dark energies now pulsed inside his muscles. It felt exhilarating to command
such power. He grinned a fanged grin and raised his hand to the Black Dragon, focusing his
power upon him. Just as the spell completed, green energy swirling around his taloned finger
tips, Illidan felt himself knocked straight off his feet as shards of ice pinned him to the ground.
One prominent shard speared between his legs, just missing his crotch. A spray of water
splashed upon him and he lifted his head up to see just who knocked him down. Illidan found
Prestor standing upon his hind legs amid of heavily dried grass and dead trees, the water they
held completely gone.
“Don’t go no where,” said Prestor, thumping his tail upon the ground. Rocky cuffs bound
the sorcerer’s wrists and ankles.
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Brox sliced down, ready to cleave Varo’then’s head, but the elf’s nimble movements spun
him out of the way of the axe. Varo’then knocked Brox to his stomach with a kick. The orc
rolled over and the captain pointed his tip right at his throat.
“I wonder if you bleed like we do,” he said.
Before he could strike, a dark shadow flowed over the group. Varo’then leapt wide and
away from Brox just as the area where the Night Elf stood was pounded by flame. Though the
heat from the flames had not burned the orc. Inside the fire, he was completely safe. Brox rose
up, feeling a sense of renewed energy coming from the fire around him.
“Away from him, miscreant!” bellowed a broad voice from above.
Prestor looked up, his green eyes wide. Then, he growled, smacking his forehead with
his paw.
“He’s just as bad as I am...” he growled. He looked up again seeing a crimson scaled,
winged creature spinning in the air again, sending fire racing towards Varo’then again. The elf
leapt out the way again.
“Korialstrasz!” called Malfurion. Suddenly both he and Brox were snatched up by two
ruby claws. The dragon bounded away, rising into the air. Varo’then grabbed his pouch, pulling
loose the Demon Soul.
“The disk,” said Brox. “They still have it.”
“Which one?” asked Korialstrasz.
“The one standing,” said Malfurion. “Not my twin!”
Prestor’s eyes widened just as Varo’then pointed the disk at the red dragon. He leapt
upon the elf, seeing the glow begin to build upon the disk’s surface. The two collided, and
Prestor threw him to the ground Prying the disk free, he took it from Varo’then’s grasp. Rising
up, he banished the glow. The elf took his sword out and pointed it directly at his eye.
“Do it,” he ordered. “Or I will gouge both your eyes out.”
“No,” said Prestor.
The ice began to melt around Illidan and the rock released him. Swiftly changing back to
a liquid, the water splashed upon his body. The sorcerer rose up, shaking off the water. His teeth
clinched. Then, his expression softened.
“Perhaps it may interest you then, Earth-Warder,” Illidan began. “Tyrande is a special
guest to Queen Azshara. No doubt you’ve heard my brother talk of her.”
“I know who she is,” said Prestor.
Illidan studied the dragon’s eyes.
“It seems you know a bit more about her than you let on,” said Illidan. “As if a simple
priestess of Elune was important to you...why is that?”
She is one of the leaders of the Night Elves, an important figure who protected her people
after the Sundering, of course she is important, Prestor thought. He blinked. “Malfurion loves
her.”
“And since you are such a good friend of my brother,” said Illidan. “If you want to make
sure his love is safe, you will cooperate yourself.”
Neltharion, take the disssk where it needs to go.
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Prestor’s eyes widened. The voice he heard was not the voices of the Old Gods coming
from the disk. However, he heard them chattering as well, but not as loudly as this voice. This
voice, he knew all too well. It was Nozdormu.
Take the disssk, Neltharion. And go with them. You mussst be there when the
Sssundering happens. Malfurion needsss to find Krasus.
Prestor shut his eyes and lifted the disk up to Korialstrasz.
I will control its force, he thought. It won’t kill you, Kori, I’ll be sure of that.
“Prestor!” called Korialstrasz. “You have the disk! Let’s go!”
The disk flared and the red dragon’s eyes widened in surprise. Prestor bound his will to
the disk as he has done many times before. Korialstrasz dove towards a force that would not
allow him to fly any closer to the three on the ground. The glowing force started to push him
away. The red dragon clawed at the force.
“Prestor!” Malfurion called. “What are you doing?”
Prestor made no replied and the force became stronger. Korialstrasz continued to claw
against the force field surrounding them.
“Prestor!” he bellowed again.
Find Krasus! Find Krasus and send for Alexstrasza! The time to strike is now! It has to
happen now! Find Krasus! Don’t worry about me. He heard the sound of Prestor’s voice inside
of his mind. Korialstrasz lowered his claws. He realized what Prestor was telling him what he
had to do and he gave himself to the force of the Demon Soul. With that, the force he fought
against sent him and his passengers flying through the trees. Prestor had shot Korialstrasz into
the direction where he sensed Krasus. Not only did he sense Krasus, he also sensed his former
self as well, hunting the dragon mage down with mad fervor. Prestor lowered the disk. He
turned to see the demons digging themselves out of the pit he trapped them in. The disk flared
once more and with a flash, the demons exploded into a pile of ash. Varo’then rose his sword up,
ready to strike the dragon. Prestor swung his tail and the elementium blade cut his sword in two.
Varo’then roared out, hoping to dive his severed sword upon the dragon’s scales, but then he felt
his body freeze. Prestor raised his claw up, his other claw still clutching the glowing disk. One
by one, Varo’then’s fingers opened and his sword dropped to the ground. He felt as if something
was reaching into his very veins and pulling on them like the strings of a puppet. Prestor flipped
his claw over and the elf bent, hearing the sounds of every joint in his back pop. Then, upon the
command of the claw rising, so did the elf. His arms clamped to his sides and he could not move
them. Prestor tilted his head and then slammed his claw down. Varo’then toppled over, feeling
as if every bit of his body was suddenly being crushed. His organs screamed with the great
pressure placed upon him. Suddenly, the pressure was released and Varo’then once more had
control over his body.
“Make a threat to me again and I will crush your heart,” he growled. “Got it?”
Varo’then swallowed, his eyes locking upon Prestor’s. His lungs ached for air. The
dragon could smell the fear leaking out of the elf’s body. Varo’then swallowed dryly and licked
his lips. He nodded stiffly. Illidan clapped his hands at the dragon.
“Well done,” he said. “If only I could wield half the power you do.”
He walked up to Prestor and held out his hand. The dragon growled, clutching the disk
tighter. Illidan wiggled his fingers, trying to invite Prestor to place the disk into his upturned
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palm. Prestor sighed and handed it to him. Illidan looked upon the surface of the disk, the eyes
behind his scarf lighting up. He could feel the power emanating from the disk and he grinned.
“So much power from such a simple thing,” he whispered. “How did you create it?”
“With sugar and spice and everything nice,” Prestor replied, not even veiling his sarcasm.
Illidan turned to the dragon and allowed a deep chuckle.
“I never knew dragons have senses of humor,” he said.
“Try hanging out with one,” said Prestor. “You’d be amazed by what you discover.”
Illidan tilted his head: “I am sure my brother has learned much from you. Perhaps I can
learn too.”
“There is nothing I can teach you,” said Prestor. “Nothing. You’ve another master...”
The smile faded and Illidan scowled.
“Illidan,” said Varo’then. “The disk.”
The Night Elf captain opened his hand to him. Illidan handed him the disk and the two
mounted upon their cats.
“You were right,” said Varo’then. “The power that disk holds. One could become an
emperor!” He turned to the dragon. “But it seems only he can wield it effectively.”
“I did create it,” said Prestor.
“One should be flayed alive by Sargeras for even thinking of such thoughts,” said Illidan.
“And rightly so!” said Varo’then. “I trust you’ve not entertained such foolish notions,
sorcerer.” He took in a deep breath. “The queen will be most please! We have secured the disk
and its proven power over a full grown dragon...but not only have we secured the disk...we have
the one who can teach us how to use its power as effective as he can.”
Prestor took in his deep breath and rumbled, his eyes focusing upon Illidan again.
“I will come with you to Zin-Azshari,” he began. “And show you how my Dragon Soul
works.”
118
Light of Lights is not Very Bright
FOR THE FIRST TIME IN his life, Prestor met Queen Azshara face to face. He recalled his
thoughts when he first arrived in this time. This would give him the change to stop her from
becoming the Naga Queen. But, she was already heading down that road. He glanced into the
two orbs of her eyes, glowing like twin candles. Her silvery hair fell down her back, her blue
skin was radiant. She wore a rather sensual looking dress silver with a split going up her right
leg. All around her Highborne, elves who were the ancestors of the High Elves and later the
Blood Elves. Still, they looked like Night Elves with varying purple shades of skin and green to
blue to black hair. The Highborne were nothing more than the social elites, the ruling class in the
hierarchy of the Night Elves. All other Night Elves were just the lowly peasants. These elites
ruled by the arcane, and their classes dictated by just how close they were to the Well of Eternity.
And at the heart was Zin-Azshari.
Prestor lumbered into a vast, royal chamber where Queen Azshara stood with her
handmaidens. This chamber was close to the portal. Prestor could sense the darkness coming
from the portal even from this room. Mannoroth rumbled, watching the two night elves ushering
in the black dragon. Azshara sniffed and she and her train shuffled themselves over to the trio.
Prestor shifted his eyes from the hulking centaur, reptilian pit lord and the lovely Highborne
queen.
“What is this...animal you bring me, Varo’then?” she asked, looking with disgust at
Prestor. “A pet?”
Prestor growled and clicked his talons on her smooth floor. She looked him over, her
eyes rising and lowering upon his great form.
“He smells,” she scoffed.
“This, Light of Lights, is a dragon,” said Varo’then. “Not only a dragon, but the dragon
who created the magnificent device that will aid in bringing our Lord Sargeras to this world.”
Prestor shifted from one foot to another and shook his neck scales. The elementium
plates clanked upon his back and his braids flipped about his chest. Azshara walked over to him,
tilting her head to the right in scrutiny. She sniffed again.
“He’s dirty,” she said.
“Well,” Prestor huffed, puffing his massive chest out. “I’m sorry I haven’t bathed in a
fucking week and a half! If the Light of Lights would be so kind as to point me to the nearest
bathhouse, I’ll be happy to scrub away the grime.”
“He insults me, Varo’then,” said Azshara. “Rip his tongue out!”
Varo’then turned to the Great Black. His heart quivered, hearing a low, fuming growl
coming from the dragon and memories from when he felt his own organs crushing under unseen
weight came back. Prestor’s eyes flashed like fire and Varo’then gulped, his face twisting in fear.
“I...rather not,” he said.
“You defy my orders?” asked Azshara.
“Well,” began Illidan. “Oh Light of Lights, our dragon needs his tongue to command the
disk. You want our lord to come, correct?”
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“Yes!” she said. Azshara held her breath, her eyes lighting up in excitement. “I can’t
wait! Soon, my consort will come and remake this world.” She exhaled. “A paradise he will
create for me!”
Mannoroth chuckled sinisterly. Then, his chuckle faded when he heard a laugh coming
from Prestor. The dragon lifted his head, opening his mouth with a loud cackle. In response to
his laugh, the room began to tremble violently. A vase slid from the table and fell with a loud
shatter. Prestor shook his head and wiped a tear free from his eye.
“He mocks me again!” Azshara gasped.
“Only your stupidity!” Prestor said, laughing again. “You–you honestly believe the being
that will step through into our world will want to marry you?” He laughed even louder. A pillar
cracked under the stress of the quake his mirth caused. Mannoroth looked up to the ceiling as
dust fell to the floor, and then back to the black dragon. The Great Black shook his head. “Oh,
do go on! You are a means to an end. Nothing more, elf. And Sargeras is a locust. He moves
from planet to planet, taking the resources and when he is done, he leaves...of to another planet.”
Prestor’s eyes turned to Mannoroth. “But tell me, Pit Lord, when your great Lord Sargeras is
done destroying worlds, absorbing life, taking as he pleases, what then? What will he do when
there is nothing left? Sargeras has no purpose other than this and when there is nothing left of the
universe, there will be nothing left of him!” Prestor chuckled, clacking his fangs. “I do not envy
his life nor ask for it.”
“You will do well to watch your tongue, worm,” said Mannoroth in a deep growl. “Your
purpose here is to use your disk. Afterwards, will have no more need of you.”
“And I suppose I will be the first to be fed to Lord Sargeras,” said Prestor. “It’s a step up
from the oblivion your precious lord will suffer. Will you spend it with him, Mannoroth? I
certainly hope so. I’m sure he will be lonely in his nothingness and would need some company
to keep him from going insane out of boredom.”
The demon stomped towards the dragon, his scales rattling anger. Prestor smelled the
rotten stench fuming from the pit lord and he retched back. Mannoroth snatched the dragon by
his thick neck and pulled him up, squeezing his trachea.
“You will be silent!” Mannoroth growled.
“You...do not scare me,” said Prestor. His claws wiggled towards the direction of
Varo’then’s pouch. The Demon Soul began to glow, reacting to Prestor’s call. Then, he lifted a
claw and seized the demon’s body. Mannoroth felt fingers diving in, controlling every vein and
every muscle inside his body. Prestor grinned, sensing two pulses inside. “You have two hearts.”
Mannoroth felt his hearts clinched tight and he dropped the dragon. Prestor lifted from
the floor and reared to his hind legs and held to the demon’s body. The demon grunted, twisting
and writhing. Mannoroth was fighting against the will of his own body and he was loosing.
Prestor moved his claws in a fluid motion and the demon reacted, walking across the decorative
floor. With a quick motion, the dragon slammed the demon down upon his own face. Azshara
looked on, almost mesmerized by the control the dragon wielded upon the pit lord. Then, Prestor
released his control over him. Mannoroth gasped, clutching his chest. The dragon shrugged, his
tail swaying. The pit lord looked up, seeing the glow of the Great Black’s eyes keeping some
residual hold upon him.
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“Since I am about to be served up as an entrée,” Prestor began. “I can speak my mind all
I want. Because I am dead anyway. There is no point in threatening me any further. I am going
to die no matter what I do.”
The demon rose to his feet, grumbling. He scratched his head and fanned his bat-like
wings.
“You’ve never dealt with one who has accepted his fate, have you?” asked Prestor.
Mannoroth growled again, his lips curling.
“We’re a lot more annoying than those who fight against their fate,” Prestor continued.
“Bring him,” the demon huffed.
Illidan continued to eye the dragon intently, a smirk appearing on his face. This will be
amusing...
They brought Prestor to the black portal only a few chambers down. The portal pulsated
with hideous energy and green fire. Prestor grimaced, sensing the disgusting fumes coming from
the portal. On the other side was the Twisting Nether, the vast void that Sargeras lived. The
Earth-Warder took in a deep breath as the portal pulsed again, revealing two fiery eyes. His
emerald eyes narrowed at them.
Sargeras...
“I sense the stench of a Titan here...”
“There are no filthy Titans here, my lord,” said Mannoroth.
Prestor shifted his eyes around.
“Speak to our lord, sorcerer,” said the pit lord, turning to Illidan. “He awaits your news.”
“I have brought the disk,” said Illidan. Varo’then took the disk out and showed it to the
portal.
“Well done.”
Varo’then and Illidan bowed reverently and Prestor rolled his eyes again. Illidan
motioned for the dragon to step forward. Prestor lumbered closely, but still wanting to keep his
distance.
“We have also captured the dragon who created the tool which will bring you to us,” said
Illidan.
“I wish for him to step closer...”
Illidan looked back to Prestor and once more motioned him to come closer. As Prestor
did, he could feel the dripping horrid presence of Sargeras latch out to him. Tendrils of green
flowed out to him to touch his scales. Then, the green shot into his own heart. For a moment,
Prestor felt his breath stolen.
“Khaz’Goroth...”
“I am not surprised you know that name, Betrayer...” said Prestor.
“So, you are the experiment he spoke of...”
Prestor felt his own heart clinch tightly just when he heard the word ‘experiment’
mentioned. A pair of claws tore into his chest scales, opening them up to reveal his molten,
glowing core, pulsating with his heartbeat. Prestor gasped seeing a bit of his lava blood drip
hissing and burning upon the floor.
“You will make an excellent meal...”
Prestor held his chest closed with a claw.
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“I’d tell you to bite me, but you seem to want to do that anyway,” he said.
“He even has Khaz’Goroth’s snark...one of the things I hated about him. Which will
make the feast even more fulfilling.”
“My lord,” said Illidan. “We have devised the plan of having him empower the disk and
seal it to the portal...”
The portal pulsed again and Prestor heard the grating voice of Sargeras echoed again.
“The portal is of no concern anymore.”
Prestor felt himself pulled closer to the portal.
“The disk shall open the way, as planned. You will use the power of the Well itself...”
§§§
Prestor passed down to the lower chambers and deep into the cells where they were
holding Tyrande Whisperwind. He was allowed this one audience with her, being escorted by
Dath’Remar Sunstrider. Already the Highborne Night Elf was starting to look more and more
like a Blood Elf, his ears perked up much higher than regular Night Elves, his build a bit shorter.
He sensed that Dath’Remar was opening up to Tyrande, and Prestor had to approach him about
it.
“They will not hear us...” Prestor whispered. “You have been seeing the priestess
captured here?”
“Yes,” said Dath’Remar.
“I can sense you question your position and your queen’s as well,” said Prestor as they
moved aside to a corner. Dath’Remar looked around, hesitantly around for anyone who could
hear. Prestor rumbled deeply. “Sargeras means all of us ill, Sunstrider.”
“I...I know,” he said.
“Where is Tyrande?”
“In the cells under the palace,” said Dath’Remar. His glowing eyes narrowed at the
dragon. “The queen is...mad...”
“I know,” said Prestor. “You will need to help her escape.”
Dath’Remar nodded.
“Are there others like you?” asked Prestor.
“Yes...um...my lord...”
“I am no lord,” said Prestor. “But if you are so keen on titles, ‘sir’ will do.”
“Yes, sir,” said Dath’Remar.
“Gather all who are loyal,” said Prestor. He glanced around again and then back to the
Highborne elf. “And go to the resistance.”
“But what if they...attack us?”
“Rescuing Tyrande Whisperwind might help making them more favorable to you,” said
Prestor.
“What if we are caught?”
“You won’t be,” said Prestor. “I’m taking most of Mannoroth’s sorcerers with me when I
go to help open the portal. They’ll be too occupied with it to even notice you. But if you plan to
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do something, it’s now! You won’t get a chance later...” He glanced over his shoulder. “You
have to save her now...”
“You won’t honestly help them bring Sargeras here, will you?” asked Dath’Remar.
“No,” said Prestor. “I’m here to make sure their plan fails. I am a member of the
Dragonflights, my duty is to protect this world from creatures like him. I won’t go back on that
charge.”
The elf nodded.
“I want you to take me to Tyrande and then when I leave, you make your escape.”
And so, Dath’Remar Sunstrider, the one Prestor knew who will be king of the High Elves
thousands of years later, lead him down to where they kept Tyrande. The door opened and
Tyrande glanced up to see him standing there. She looked almost half dead, starved, thin, and
dirty. Her eyes lit up with recognition.
“N...Neltharion?” she asked, rising weakly up.
“Shhh...priestess...” Prestor hissed. “Prestor, remember?”
“Prestor...” she nodded and swallowed dryly. The Black Dragon lowered down to her.
“I am here to stop their plans,” he said. “Or at least buy some time for the others to get
here.”
“How did you fool them into thinking you would help them?”
“With my charms,” Prestor said with a smile. “Apparently I haven’t lost them.
Or...maybe it’s because these guys are as stupid as the Dragonflights were. Either way, I’m
taking advantage of them. They think I am helping them because I have given up. I am about to
throw a large monkey wrench in their plans.”
“What’s a monkey wrench?” asked Tyrande.
“Never mind, priestess,” he said with a low chuckle. “Don’t give up hope. And I brought
someone who might be able to help you get back to your Malfurion...”
Dath’Remar knelt to Tyrande.
“Holy priestess,” he said.
“Thank you,” she said. “But he...”
“I am on your side, Tyrande,” said Dath’Remar. “This world the demons plan for
us...only death do I see in their path. What world would any of us want to live if death is all we
see?”
Tyrande rose up and Dath’Remar banished the shield that bound her. He helped her up
and Prestor backed away just as they exited the cell.
“Take all you trust, Sunstrider,” said Prestor. “And her as well. Get away from the Well
as fast as you can!”
“Get away from the Well...” Tyrande repeated. “Aside from the demons, why else would
we?”
“Malfurion wants to destroy it,” said Prestor. “And I am going to help him.”
“Destroy the Well of Eternity...how?” asked Dath’Remar. “Why?”
“Why...because it’s what’s calling the demons here,” said Prestor. “So long as it exists,
you’ll have problems with demons. And their lord. How...you will know soon enough.”
“But we need the Well’s energies...”
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“You can survive without it,” said Prestor. “And you will find other means to sate your
addiction to the arcane. There are leylines of arcane magic all around...Kalimdor, formed by my
brother Malygos the Spell-Weaver. One day, you will meet a race of people who will help you
tap into those leylines. But the Well has to be destroyed. There are no other options. The
destruction will be so great, it will blast this entire area. So, you must leave and take all you can!
Save all you can.”
“Thank you...Earth-Warder,” said Tyrande, placing her hand upon his scaly shoulder.
“Elune will guide you and protect you.”
“I will need all the help I can get,” said Prestor. “I’m about to stare down the throat of a
very pissed off, dark Titan. He won’t like what’s about to happen.”
With that, he watched them flee. Prestor turned back and headed for the Well.
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All’s Well that Ends Well
THERE WAS A STORM ABOVE the Well of Eternity, swirling like a hurricane. Wind battered
the black waters and rain came down, slinging sideways. The great lake of the Well was nearly
fifty miles across. Prestor had positioned himself right above the white-capped dark waters of
the Well, some twenty-five miles out. The lake would make an excellent portal for Sargeras, to
bring in his troops through. It was large enough to fit whole armies through. All around him,
Prestor could feel the surging power of the Well channel even into him. The combination of the
lake’s energies and the power from the Demon Soul, he felt like a god. He felt like he could take
on Sargeras himself if the demonic Titan did manage to come through. Though, with the spells
he had in place and the plan he worked out in his mind, Prestor knew that the Well will collapse
before Sargeras brought one foot through. Though it all played upon how well he can fool the
Eradar Warlocks into aligning themselves into the matrix he worked out. He advised Mannoroth
of his matrix and how it would work, though the matrix he advised the demon pit lord will be
one that will collapse the Well itself. Since Mannoroth was not there when Neltharion had
revealed his deception, Prestor knew he could get away with murder from the dense demon.
They followed him, riding on rock platforms he commanded. Compared to the massive Black
Dragon, they looked nothing more like ants standing on pebbles. He turned to them.
“I will maneuver you all into the matrix,” he told them. With strong sweeps of his claws,
he positioned them in the circular matrix he envisioned, spacing each on a thousand feet apart.
Prestor looked around himself and then called out. “You must give yourselves to the Demon
Soul!”
The warlocks raised their hands as Prestor lifted the Demon soul tot he center of the
matrix. He signaled for them to start channeling. As they channeled their green felfire into the
disk, the dragon looked about him again. Mannoroth wanted him right above where the portal
will form. He was to be sacrificed to Sargeras. Prestor chuckled again at that notion. If all goes
well to plan, Sargeras and his armies will be trapped on the other side and the Well of Eternity
destroyed by the encroaching sea. The face of Azeroth with be changed forever, but it will be for
the better. Without the Well, the demons will have a difficult time returning.
Azeroth, one of the last bastions Sargeras cannot touch.
At least for now...
He will prepare them, he will make sure they will be able to drive Sargeras back for good.
Even if it means sacrificing all, no one will suffer Sargeras again.
“Keep it up!” Prestor barked. “Do not stop until the portal is secured!”
Yes! He heard the voice of N’Zoth call from the disk. More! More power!
Prestor mumbled under his breath: “You are enjoying this, aren’t you?”
Excellent!
The Black Dragon shook his head, keeping true to the plan and keeping it deep inside his
own mind and away from the Old Gods. Lightning flashed above and he felt the roar of thunder
vibrate in his chest. The clouds swirled faster. Prestor glanced up, seeing how fast they were
going. His body tingled with power. The light of the Demon Soul glowed with feverish
brightness. Prestor held to himself, feeling the great power flowing into him again. He felt his
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body swell once more. Hie looked upon his ripped chest. The glowing stretches under his scales
widened again. He was gaining mass once more.
“Calia will love this,” he whispered to himself. “I’ll be coming home fatter than I left.”
His chest began to fill out even more. “She always loved me chubby...”
A warlock lowered his clawed, crimson hand, taking note of Prestor’s growth. The
unbalance of energy bucked at the dragon and his wings flailed slightly. He righted himself and
swung his head around.
“You!” he bellowed. “Keep concentrating or I’ll make a snack of you!”
The warlock raised his hand again and the energies stabilized. Prestor turned to the west,
sensing the energies of dragons fast approaching. And the, he turned towards the south. From
the south, Deathwing was coming. Taking his cue, Prestor worked out the plan in his head again.
With the combination of the repulse of the Demon Soul upon Deathwing, the attempt at
purifying the disk by Alexstrasza and Ysera and the strain of Sargeras to hold the portal open, it
will all be enough to start the Sundering and destroy the Well. Prestor sighed. It took the power
of ripping Old Kalimdor apart to destroy this magical fount. There was nothing else more he
needed to do. He hovered over the black waters of the Well of Eternity and waited. The
warlocks took care of everything from here. Prestor glanced down upon the black waters, taking
note they began to swirl around from a central point as well, mirroring that of the clouds.
It was happening now!
The birth of the Maelstrom.
An orange fiery stream began to rise from the center of the growing whirlpool.
Open it!
“Patience!” Prestor bellowed at N’Zoth. Then he added internally: Even your plans will
fail, squid. And I will be laughing all the way back home!
Prestor needed to be here, to witness everything and to make sure it all happens as it
should. That is what Nozdormu told him. For Calia, for Thrall, and all those yet to be born.
Prestor closed his eyes. He sensed a presence floating over him, watching his every move. The
dragon opened his eyes and his consciousness met the spy.
Malfurion, what are you doing here?
What are you doing? Helping the demons!
No! I am tricking them. This matrix will destabilized the portal. Tell Krasus all is going
to plan.
Will it destroy the Well?
It will. In a spectacular explosion that will rock the planet!
Malfurion looked down upon the Well, seeing the glow of the portal form at the center of
the swirling water. The wind flowed all around Prestor, whipping his braids about his thick neck.
Malfurion looked to the dragon and his eyes widened, seeing the glowing rips forming around
his body. Prestor was growling uncomfortably, fighting to keep himself from bursting.
You’re growing! Malfurion called.
It’s the Demon Soul! Prestor called. I’ll be alright. Just do me a favor when this is all
over.
What?
Heal the rips will you? I don’t want to go home looking like this.
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Tyrande...began Malfurion. Did you see her?
Yes. She’s unharmed. Dath’Remar Sunstrider is looking after her. You can trust him. He
and some Highborne loyal to him are preparing to rescue her and join the resistance.
Highborne willing to betray the queen?
She’s shit-faced in the head and even they know she needs to go down! Prestor called.
Malfurion nodded.
Druid you need all the help you can get. When they arrive, welcome them. I cannot help
you from here. How are my sisters?
They are coming! said Malfurion. Alexstrasza, Ysera, and a bronze dragon are heading
over here. The blue dragons did not arrive.
After what happened, began Prestor. I wouldn’t blame them.
The large red male with the queen, he is leading the others against the demons.
Tyranastrasz, said Prestor. Alex’s Prime Consort. Good! He’s a tactful leader. He will
not fail you.
Prestor focused his eyes to the south again. The Black Dragon rumbled.
He’s coming as well? asked Malfurion, sensing the other dragon heading for the Well
from the south.
Does that surprise you? Prestor asked.
No.
Go back and tell Krasus that Deathwing is coming.
Malfurion nodded a the dragon’s orders. Prestor allowed the druid one glance of a smile
of confidence.
Remember, we are going to make it, said Prestor. He swung his head to the warlocks.
“Put your all into the disk, you stinky bastards! Sargeras is waiting!” I will drain them of their
fel power by the end of this, Malfurion. Once the collapse happens, the surge will be so great,
it’ll pull all the demons back through the Portal! Any demon left will die once the sea rushes in
to fill the hole.
You sure this will work?
It worked the last time I was here, said Prestor.
I keep forgetting you witnessed this before, said Malfurion.
A second favor, Malfurion. I don’t want to be remembered for helping you. No one must
know that there were two Neltharions here.
How about I say a great dragon named Prestor aided us instead of saying it was
Neltharion?
That’ll do. Go, quickly! They will discover you.
Prestor felt the consciousness of Malfurion slip away from him. He sighed again and
glanced back towards the shore at Zin-Azshari. The roar of the water whirled about him. Waves
crashed upon the shore. The dragon took in a deep breath, his glowing splits widening with
every heave. He cast his gaze down upon the whirlpool below. He could see the Twisting
Nether through the center and millions upon millions of hulking demons waiting to enter. And at
the van was Sargeras. Prestor locked his eyes upon the Fallen Titan. He recalled through the
memories and knowledge granted to him by Khaz’Goroth that Sargeras was once a noble being
who lead the inter-dimensional Titan fleet with honor. But this being held none of that honor in
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his eyes. As if Khaz’Goroth had possessed Prestor, he suddenly felt the betrayal his ‘father’
Titan had once felt. But then, there was the sorrow and the pity for the Dark One’s fall. The
Dark Titan burned with cracks of fire along his body much like what Prestor and Deathwing did.
His hair and beard were alight with flames. Prestor looked upon himself, seeing his own fiery
rips. As the spray of black water hit his scales, steam arose from the surface. Green energy also
seemed to fluctuate around him. He once more locked gaze with Sargeras. The more he looked
deep into the Titan’s eyes, the more he realized what he was looking at.
Himself!
There it was, the madness! The Old Gods’ madness. Neltharion and Sargeras were alike.
The experiment...
There was that word again. It was a word Prestor thought to mean Azeroth itself.
Azeroth was an experiment brought about by the Titans. But Sargeras only referred it to mean
Prestor. The Black Dragon swallowed, sensing his fear rise when he looked into Sargeras’ eyes.
It was not fear of the Titan he felt, but fear of himself. Prestor’s eyes blinked and he broke
contact
You are afraid of me...good...
“I’m not afraid of lowly locusts like you!” Prestor bellowed. He roared at the warlocks.
“Enough! The portal is stabilized! Return to Zin-Azshari.”
“We do not take orders from lowly lizards,” said one of the warlocks. Prestor gawked
with a snort.
“Very well..” the dragon said softly. He turned his head slightly to see dragons of green,
bronze and red approaching him. Then, he sensed Deathwing nearing the lake as well. From
below, shadows of bat-like creatures erupted from the portal. They filed out, attacking the
dragons swooping in closer. Prestor raised his claw and the Demon Soul flashed. A golden pulse
flowed out from all sides and the nine warlocks devolved into ash. Dragons spun, latching claws
to claws, biting and tearing flesh and cracking bones. A bat swooped in, claws outstretched,
screeching at Prestor. Prestor dodged the tiny attacking bat, only for another to fly smack into
his face. The bat bit deep into his forehead, causing the dragon some minor annoyance. Prestor
swung his head around, feeling the sting of the bite. Then, he heard a loud screech and the bat let
go, flying away with its face smoking, chirping loudly in agony. Prestor lifted his claw up,
feeling a wetness upon his forehead. The bat bit so hard, it drew blood. He wiped his fiery
blood from his head and chuckled at the bat who burned its face upon it.
“Prestor!” he swung his head around at the call of his name.
Alexstrasza flew in, snapping her jaws at a bat. Upon her neck was Krasus. Ysera
followed with Malfurion riding on her back. He turned his head to see Brox riding on the back
of a smaller green dragon. Prestor dove down and then rose up beside the Life Queen.
“Neltharion!” she said. “Exactly what are you planning?”
“Ah!” Prestor called. “What’s my name again?”
“Prestor,” said Alexstrasza.
Prestor chuckled. He lead her close to the swirl of the whirlpool and pointed down. The
connection was becoming more and more stable and she could clearly see the horde of demons
on the other side. Prestor swung his head around to the Demon Soul. Golden glowing tendrils
flowed downwards to the center of the whirlpool.
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“The Well of Eternity must be destroyed,” said Prestor. “To keep Sargeras from entering
our world.”
“There is no other way?” asked Alexstrasza.
“Unfortunately,” began Krasus. He sighed. “No.”
“You both have seen this before,” said Alexstrasza.
“Yes,” replied both Prestor and Krasus.
“And what will be the result of the destruction of the Well?” she asked.
Krasus leaned back and sighed, shaking his head. Prestor cleared his throat with some
uneasiness. The dragon mage shot a spiteful gaze at him. The Black Dragon snapped his jaws at
the Blood Elf and growled with a warning. Krasus crossed his arms as they engaged into a silent
argument-staring contest. Alexstrasza shifted her golden eyes to both of them.
“Well?” she asked, her tone demanding a reply from either of them.
“At this rate, if the Demon Soul is overloaded,” said Krasus. “The Well will collapse in
upon itself.”
“It will cut off the demon’s path to Kalimdor,” said Prestor. “It’s the Well’s arcane power
which draws them here. However, the collapsing of the portal will be so great that most of the
continent will collapse with it. The world will change after that.”
Alexstrasza’s eyes widened in horror as she looked upon the Black Dragon. Prestor
sighed and shook his head in dismay.
“And how many lives will be sacrificed in the wake of the Well’s destruction?” she
asked.
“Alex!” Prestor huffed. “When I left you to come back in time...you specifically told me
you wouldn’t change a thing and not to speak to you about it again. I was the one who wanted to
prevent the Sundering. Do I need to call you a hypocrite now?”
Alexstrasza took a deep breath and shook her head in disbelief.
“This must happen,” said Prestor, clinching his fists.
“I don’t want it to happen,” said Alexstrasza.
“Neither do I,” said Krasus.
Prestor positioned himself between the Red Dragon and the Demon Soul.
“I didn’t want it to happen either!” he called. “The reason why I came here because I
wanted to stop it! I wanted to stop a lot of things.” He swallowed and looked back at the Demon
Soul. “But...things must happen. Doing this will make the world as it should be. If it...look, you
just have to trust me on this...” He turned back to Alexstrasza. “Please! If this event doesn’t
happen, then a worse event will...one that none of us can do to stop it.”
“What?” asked Krasus.
“You...you...don’t need to know right now,” he said.
“But you obviously do!”
“Something Nozdormu told me,” said Prestor. “Something that I honestly don’t want to
believe. Something that even I believe places too much weight on my shoulders as is, but...it has
to happen. I’m trying to build a good ending for this story. A good ending for all of us because
Nozdormu knows he can’t. I’m doing this for the last brother I have left!” His eyes widened
when he saw both Krasus and Alexstrasza started to speak. “No more questions!”
“We’re asking too much...” said Alexstrasza.
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“I have told enough already,” he said.
Krasus sighed: “He comes from a much farther time than I do, my queen. And he’s seen
greater horrors than I could even imagine...as either Deathwing or as just himself.”
“Neltharion,” began Alexstrasza. “Prestor...or whatever you want to call
yourself...remove the Demon Soul and let the portal collapse. Let this...Sundering happen. At
least, from what I have heard in the sound of your voice, a few will be saved.”
“If you don’t, Sargeras will come through,” said Krasus.
“Fine,” he said.
Prestor sighed and flew back to towards the Demon Soul. Perhaps it was enough. The
other sequence of this event was not showing up. Deathwing was not showing his face. The
dragon reached out to the disk and it flashed brighter. Prestor felt his body expand out even
more, the rips growing wider. He bellowed out in agony as his body swelled.
Go away, whelp!
Prestor’s eyes lit up like two flames.
“Fuck you, N’Zoth!” he roared. “I want my disk back!”
No!
“Prestor!” called Krasus.
“It’s...feeding me...too much power!” Prestor called. “I can’t control the influx...the Old
Gods are hoping that I’ll explode from it!”
He backed away, his wings flailing wildly. Another pulse flashed from the Demon Soul
as the Black Dragon backed away. He sputtered and gagged, lava now dripping from his jaws.
Prestor looked down upon his body, his flaring, fiery red eyes now alight with horror. He was
tearing apart again.
“Brother!” called Ysera. “Let me!”
“Hang on, Prestor!” said Malfurion, rising from the Great Green’s back. He leapt upon
the coolest part of Prestor’s back, his elementium plates. Ysera flew right beside him. She
reached out for the Black Dragon, but then shrank back from the searing heat that he emanated.
“Ysera!” Prestor called. “Careful! I’m...too hot.” He retched in pain, holding his
stomach. His eyes shut tightly, tears flowing upon his cheeks and then turning into steam. “I...I
can’t grab it. They won’t let me.”
Krasus focused upon Prestor’s now glowing, fiery, red-orange eyes. Though they glowed
much like Deathwing’s eyes did, he saw no madness in them. However, he could sense the
agony Prestor was feeling. Prestor’s eyes locked upon his and he shook his head in failure.
“The disk has a mind of its own,” the Black Dragon said. “I may have infused it with my
blood, but it holds the consciousness if the Three.”
“Three...” said Krasus.
“C’thun, Yogg-Saron, and N’Zoth,” said Prestor. “They won’t let me take it.”
“But you can destroy it,” said Krasus. “Just take one of your scales and...”
“No!” Prestor bellowed. “It mustn’t be destroyed, Krasus. If it is, then there is no way I
can defeat Ultraxion when Nozdormu brings it to my time. Ultraxion will begin the Hour of
Twilight and the Old Gods win. We’ll all die!”
“So, we must find a way to remove the Dragon Soul without destroying it,” said Krasus.
“Because all our futures depend on it...”
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“Sucks don’t it?” Prestor asked, still sputtering his lava. “Trust me, if it didn’t, I’d
destroyed the accursed thing right now! It’s brought me no end of trouble.”
“Then, pray tell, you two beings from our distant future...” Alexstrasza snarled at both of
them. “What do we do?”
“There’s only one person who can possibly have any ounce of gusto to free it,” said
Prestor. He looked around with an expectant, and impatient clack of his jaws. “And I was hoping
he’d show up!”
“Who?” asked Malfurion. He lowered his hand upon a cool black scale and began to
feed his healing energies into Prestor’s body.
“Me...” said Prestor, clearing his throat. “Or rather Deathwing. He’s so batshit crazy
right now the pain of the disk trying to repel him won’t even bother him. That’s the problem
between he and I. I no longer have the madness or the obsession over that thing. And I don’t
want to hurt. I really don’t want to hurt. But he...he wouldn’t care. It’s the disk or nothing to
him right now. He can break it out.” He looked around. “I can sense him. He’s close by. We’re
so around the disk right now, he’s afraid to strike for it. Mostly because I’m here, I suspect. He
think I’ll destroy the disk.”
“Then it is you who should back away,” said Alexstrasza.
Prestor rumbled, feeling some of his rips start to close up as new scales grew over the
wounds. The rips did not close up all the way, but they were not as bad as before. Prestor lifted
a claw up to the newly form rips and growled in frustration again. He craned his head back to
the elf.
“It feels much better, Malfurion,” he said. “You should hold off on the healing though
until we get some peace from all this chaos.”
As Malfurion continued his soothing healing upon the Black Dragon, Prestor’s eyes
widened to find the pair of tiny antlers had grown much larger.
“Indeed, you will be one of the finest druids in the world, Night Elf,” he said.
Prestor glanced down upon the portal. More and more bats spilled out of the swirling
water. But then a glimmer of hope. For roaring out from the clouds came Deathwing himself.
His eyes were also alight with fire, but there was that madness that they held too. He cared little
for what was happening, for the portal below, or the bats. He ripped through them all one by
one. There he wore his first bit of armor, an iron one that was mixed in with some adamantine.
Still, he was much smaller than Prestor.
That will change soon enough.
Prestor could not believe how much more he had grown since being near the Demon
Soul, his size nearly quadruple that of the other Aspects, and at least triple of his past self. Still,
that size came with a price and he felt every last penny of it. He could barely keep himself aloft,
he was in so much agony from swelling. Though Malfurion was doing his best, it was not
enough. Though he never hoped he’d be happy to see Deathwing at this moment.
“Mine!” Deathwing bellowed. “Stay away from my Dragon Soul! Stay away!”
Prestor’s head hung low and he rumbled a deep huff. Seeing himself in such a mess of
fury, conflicting emotions, and even his own agony, he could bare to look. This was him. With a
fight, Deathwing collided with the matrix of the Demon Soul. The spell that Prestor had helped
the demons set the matrix in place would not hold him back. The ravaged Great Black stretched
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a claw out to the disk. Prestor and the other dragons and Aspects dove down and began to fight
the bats again, clearing the way so that Deathwing would be unimpeded. Iron plates began to
melt away into slag as Deathwing continued to fight against the matrix keeping hold of the
Demon Soul. Malfurion held onto one of Prestor’s elementium plates, looking back at the
horrible spectacle. His silvery eyes passing between Prestor and Deathwing and he shook his
head in almost pity. The horrible, maddened and tormented creature...and then the being he
would soon become...noble, and yet sad.
“It is hard to believe he becomes you...eventually,” said Malfurion. “Though the creature
I saw...despite the madness...I thought for a moment he could have been...”
“Noble, honorable?” Prestor asked. “Those pretty crystals on his back...that justly
stature...don’t judge a book by its cover.”
“If we make it through this...” Malfurion began looking back towards Prestor.
“When...” Prestor corrected with a splice of hope in his voice.
“When...” Malfurion nodded. “Come...come and visit me. And bring this...Calia I’ve
been hearing so much about.”
Prestor let loose a chuckle. He sprayed his lava upon the bats. Despite the pain he was
feeling right now from the rips on his sides, he felt happy. The uncorrupted Black Aspect turned
to a deep growl coming from the Demon Soul and then a bellow of defiance from the whirlpool.
For a moment, he felt his heart stop. He turned to the other dragons. Ysera and Alexstrasza busy
with their own battles, spraying green and red fire upon them. Alexstrasza came close to
Deathwing, but not close enough for him to care.
Away!
Deathwing defied the voices that called out to him, still reaching for the disk. A golden
light once more built up around the disk, still trying to force Deathwing back.
“I will have it!” he cried. “The Soul is mine! No one else’s.”
“Alex!” Prestor called as she moved closer, still battling the bats. He beat his wings
swiftly, diving for her. He looked to the Well again, seeing an even darker energy flowing out
from the center. This energy connected to the Demon Soul. Sargeras was feeding his own power
into the matrix now, trying to bat away the annoying, mad Aspect. Prestor bellowed again:
“Alex! Get away! Alex!”
“Neltharion!” Alexstrasza called, but the only one who would answer to that name right
now was Prestor.
“Get away!” he roared. “Hurry!”
“Alexstrasza,” said Krasus, his eyes focusing upon the building up of energy. “We should
move!”
Just then, just as Deathwing closed his claw upon the disk, the world exploded in a bright
myriad of colors and heat. Prestor covered his eyes, bellowing out as the force battered him.
Malfurion hung on tight, his knuckles white against the skin. The force was so jarring he almost
felt like he was going to rip a nail off just from holding on. He braced himself against the Black
Dragon’s metallic plates. The Demon Soul ripped free and Deathwing roared in triumph,
clutching his prize. Alexstrasza looked back.
“He’s done it!” she announced, her voice pained. Upon her side were burn marks from
the flash.
132
The victory was short lived just as something else erupted from the black waters.
Another flash of dark energy and Deathwing was suddenly hurdled off into the clouds. The
Demon Soul was wrenched from his grasp, tumbling with a golden trail back down to the Well.
The aftershock of the force that threw Deathwing was enough to knock the wounded Alexstrasza
down into the black waters of the Well itself.
“Alex!” called Prestor with a blood curtailing cry.
“The Demon Soul!” said Malfurion.
Prestor fought against himself, save Alex or save the disk. He cursed himself over and
over as he dove for the disk itself. However, he made no motion to grab it. Instead, he allowed
Malfurion to catch it. Prestor dove down deep into the growing whirlpool of what would soon be
known as the Maelstrom, almost coming to the edge of the portal itself.
“Catch it, Malfurion!” he called as he dipped a wing down close to the wall of water. The
antlered druid lifted his hand up and caught the disk right before it fell through the portal.
Prestor heard a growl coming from the other side and another bit of dark energy building up. He
heard the roar echoing through the portal as he beat his wings powerfully up.
“Neltharion!” he heard a garbled cry as he rose up from the building maelstrom. Prestor
looked around seeing Alexstrasza splash about helplessly in the black waters. Krasus held on for
dear life just as both were fighting to stay above for air.
“Prestor!” Krasus called.
“Hang onto that disk as if half of your life depended on it, Malfurion,” said Prestor. “And
hold onto me as if the other half depended on it as well!”
Malfurion and Prestor took a deep breath as the Great Black dove into the Well. Prestor
pumped his wings and swam as fast as he could to the struggling Life-Binder. Alexstrasza
fought with all her might against the current. Her great form came close to the swirling
maelstrom. All around him, Prestor could feel the corrupted waters. It tingled all around him,
like an itch he could not scratch. With his rips still visible, he feared their corruption seeping
into him. The last thing Azeroth needed was a fel-corrupted Aspect. As he swam towards his
sister, he began to say a little prayer.
Calia, Thrall, Alexstrasza...for them...Jaina...Siderion...Kalecgos. Yes, Kalecgos too!
Nozdormu, Ysera...
Calling upon these names gave him strength and he could feel the itch slowly go away.
Alexstrasza reached for him with a crimson claw. Her other claw stroked her neck. She was
suffocating. Prestor pushed on through, feeling his own lungs beginning to ache. Malfurion
clinged tightly, his eyes shut. Prestor stretched out for Alexstrasza. Their claws missing each
other each time they tried to grasp. Prestor pushed closer and then their claws met finally. He
snatched her up. With one claw holding her tight, Prestor began to wave the other around in the
fluid motion. He tried to command some of the dark water to solidify into ice, hoping to use that
to float on back to the top. But the dark water did not obey. Prestor frantically waved his claw
around again, but each time, the water did not obey. The Well of Eternity was not ordinary
water, it was not water at all. It was liquified arcane energy. Prestor had no control over arcane
energy, he could only control physical matter–solids, liquids, and gases. The Well was different.
Still holding onto Alexstrasza, he pushed upwards, pumping his wings through the black water.
Though as he tried to swim towards the surface, he only sank faster. He was choking and falling.
133
134
His heart trembled, frightened. He was failing. Prestor bellowed, his voice gargling with
escaping air-bubbles. Then, a flash twinkled in his eyes and he lowered himself in defeat.
Grant me this one thing, N’Zoth, and you will have the chaos you seek tonight...
And our freedom, Earth-Warder?
It will come...eventually...he replied. Though he was internally thinking: And you will be
left with nothing! And with nothing, you will all cease to exist.
Hmmm...shall we help the whelp?
Let’s help the whelp.
The whelp can’t do anything without us!
It shows just how pathetic the whelp really is.
And then N’Zoth rumbled back to Prestor: Let this be a lesson, Neltharion.
The golden light flashed again and the Demon Soul reacted. Once more allowing his will
to control the Demon Soul, Prestor commanded it to save him. It did as it was told, and suddenly
the Black Dragon found himself high above the black waters of the Well of Eternity, dripping
with green energy from the waters. Alexstrasza was flying along side of him. Prestor spat out
the water from his mouth, coughing and gagging. It was the most horrid taste he had ever
ventured of tasting. The taste itself was undefinable, but whatever it was, it was wretched.
Malfurion opened his eyes and then raised the Demon Soul up. He let himself laugh as if it was
the first time he did so. Then, he fell silent, noticing how many Doomguards were now pouring
out of the portal in the Well.
“There’s so many,” said Prestor, his voice almost quivering with fear. He failed, his plan
failed. He helped the demons, not stopping them. He at least thought Deathwing’s attempts to
pry the Demon Soul would destabilized the link. At least that was how he remembered it. But
then, he recalled he was sent away just for attempting to grab at the Demon Soul and he saw it
for himself exactly what had happened. Deathwing’s attempts did not get rid of the portal. His
plan failed. The Well of Eternity still existed and the demons were coming through. He thought
he heard a laugh of triumph coming from deep within the Well. Sargeras was laughing at his
foolish attempts to bar his entry.
“We’re in deeper trouble,” said Malfurion. “Tyrande has informed me that there are
demons everywhere now.”
Prestor lifted his claw to the Night Elf.
“My disk, if you don’t mind...”
“You can’t possibly think on using that thing!” Alexstrasza called. “Not now, not what it
was doing to you before.”
“I don’t think we have a choice in the matter,” said Prestor. “I have...an idea. Malfurion,
I’m going to need your help...” He looked back down to the Well. “But we need a diversion as
well...”
“I got it, Blood’s Shadow,” said a voice from behind him. Prestor glanced over to see
the smaller green dragon swooping in low. On her back was Brox. The orc looked to Krasus and
stood upon the back of his dragon. “It was an honor to have fought beside you, Elder!” His eyes
turned to Prestor. “And I never thought I’d say this, but it was an honor as well, Blood’s Shadow.
Thrall did well to choose you as a friend.”
“Brox!” Krasus called. “Don’t!”
135
“Brox!” Prestor called just as he watched the orc leap off the dragon’s back. He
plummeted deep down and right through the portal. Prestor rumbled. “Suicide...” He huffed and
gave a shrug. “Only we could wish to have a death as great as Saurfang.”
“You think he could do it?” asked Malfurion.
“His sacrifice would be in vain if we don’t use it to our advantage,” said Prestor. “Come
on!” He looked towards Alexstrasza. “You all stay here and try to kill as many demons as you
can. Help Brox keep them occupied.” Then, his cooling fiery eyes looked to Malfurion. “We
gotta get to the shore.”
136
The One Becomes Four
PRESTOR LOWERED HIMSELF DOWN UPON the shore where Malfurion had directed him.
There he found Illidan and Tyrande desperately fighting off the demons. Prestor raised the
Demon Soul and it flashed upon his command. One by one, the demons screamed and dissolved
upon the ground. Prestor swung the Soul around, clearing out the demons as he landed. The
disk flashed again and a golden, protective shield formed around them as Prestor lowered
himself for Malfurion to dismount. Demons continued to throw themselves at the shield, only to
explode into ash. For the brief reprieve they were allowed, Malfurion and Tyrande embraced.
Prestor watched the couple as they hugged, thankful to see each other after the horrors they had
been through. And while they shared this tender moment, Prestor thought of Calia and how
much he missed her. For this moment, he wanted so much to gather his wife in his arms and
hold her close. Then, he began to wonder if whether the chances he enacted upon the time line,
would it effect her birth? Would the love of his life even be born? So far, Rhonin was surviving.
He had not ceased to exist...yet. Prestor’s brow furrowed and his cooling green eyes focused
upon Malfurion and Tyrande sternly. He lifted his claw to his rips. The residue of the Well still
clinged to him. Wisps of green rose from his scales. Illidan’s eyes narrowed upon the wisps and
a crooked smile appeared upon his face. He reached out to the green wisps as if he was about to
grab it.
“The Well’s power is incredible,” he said. “And it seems you have gone swimming in it,
dragon.”
Prestor looked down upon his body, seeing some of the energy seeping into the cracks of
the rips and turning some of the fiery orange molten blood of his core sickly green. He growled,
batting away the wisps like he was swatting flies.
“Calia...” whispered Prestor, repeating his mantra again. “Kalecgos, Ysera, Alexstrasza,
Jaina, Siderion, Thrall, Aggra...and even Varian and Garrosh...”
“Do those names help?” asked Illidan.
Prestor snarled, batting the green wisps clinging to him.
“Don’t touch me,” he growled.
“Prestor, you’re glowing green!” Tyrande gasped as she pulled away from her druid.
“When this is over, just hose me down with water, okay?” Prestor asked.
“We dove into the Well to save Alexstrasza,” said Malfurion.
“I hope she is alright as well,” said Tyrande.
Prestor scratched his head and shifted his weight around.
“The last thing we need is a fel-corrupted Dragonqueen,” he rumbled, focusing upon his
sister’s mind. Alex, are you well?
As fit as I’ll ever be, she replied. The Well is corrupted, but not enough to affect me. I
have felt a surge in power since being thrown into it.
Keep in mind about those who care about you and those who you care about, said Prestor.
I don’t want you crazy too.
Like you, Neltharion?
Especially me! Prestor projected.
It’s comforting to know that this madness is not permanent, she said.
137
Yeah...said Prestor. It isn’t.
He swatted at another wisp.
“Alex is fine,” said Prestor to Malfurion and Tyrande.
“What do you need me to do, Aspect?” asked Malfurion. “How can we stop the demons
from flowing out?”
“Since you and I...and Illidan...from what I can smell...have been doused with
Well...funk...” Prestor began. “With the help of the Demon Soul, we can expel the demons.” A
flash of the Dragon Soul and the disk floated down to the elves. Prestor shrank down to the size
of a Night Saber and looked to Illidan and Malfurion. “To operate the Soul, you must give of
yourselves. Become one with its matrix. But your will must be stronger than the Soul or else
risk loosing yourself to it. And all you desire is it...” He rumbled. “Like what happened to me.
Malfurion, your love for Tyrande must be greater than the desire to possess the Soul.” Prestor
looked to the priestess who smiled sweetly at him. “Like my love for Calia is. Only reason why
the Soul can no longer possess me.” He smiled, thinking fondly of his wife. “My soul belongs to
her.” His smile faded as his expression grew dark, looking upon Malfurion’s more sinisterly
ambitious twin. “Illidan, just...don’t listen to the voices of the Old Gods if they try to talk to
you.”
Illidan cocked his head to one side, his eyes blinking inside the blindfold. Prestor
growled, swatting another wisp.
“I never truly knew what caused it...” he whispered looking back towards the Well of
Eternity. “I thought it was me. It was partially the Demon Soul’s fault.” He rustled his wings in
frustration and thumped his tail. “Alright, Malfurion, you and I are connected to this land.” He
thumped his tail again, sending a rolling quake through the earth. “You saw how I was
connected. You, like Ysera, are the nature, every tree and beast, while I’m...I am the soil you
grow upon, the rock, the water, the air, and the heat. Between the two of us, we can make
Azeroth reject the demons’ alien presence. They do not belong here and we can drive them out!”
“Azeroth?” asked Malfurion. “I have heard you use that name for Kalimdor before...”
“Azeroth is the planet,” said Prestor. “Kalimdor is just the continent you stand on.
Expand your mind to include the land under the ocean and far down below. Like I showed you.
Go beyond Kalimdor and there are lies the real power to expel the demons.” He held out a black
claw. “So call upon all, give yourself to the Demon Soul and allow it to amplify your voice. That
is the true nature of the disk.” He swung his head back to Illidan. “You, sorcerer, must hold the
shield. Keep us safe until we finish the spell.”
“Is that all?” asked Illidan, sounding a little disappointed by his lack of importance.
Prestor, sensing his disapproval for the task assigned, snatched the elf up and drew him close to
his snout.
“Look!” the Black Dragon snarled. “I don’t have time to beat you into submission,
Illidan! Just do as I say!”
He shoved Illidan back and then regained his composure. The Night Elf sorcerer crossed
his arms, his deep frown apparent. Prestor growled at him again and then placed the Demon
Soul between the three of them.
“Prestor, what about what that disk will do to you?” asked Malfurion. “Your rips? Each
time you use it, you expand faster than your scales can grow.”
138
Prestor looked to Tyrande and motioned for her to approach. The Night Elf priestess
came to him, and she smiled again.
“Priestess Tyrande, how strong is your connection to Elune?” he asked.
“My faith is strong,” she replied. “If it was not, I would have never survived my
incarceration.”
“Then, can I trust you to put your faith into Elune to keep me healed?”
Tyrande paused. She looked over his body, seeing the damage that had already began to
happen to him. The scales shifted over the rips and Prestor growled. She was unsure whether or
not she could keep up. Then, she nodded. Anything to help the three of them. It was all to get
rid of the demons. That was all that mattered.
“Yes,” she said.
“The power of the Soul causes me to having growing pains,” said Prestor. “You must
keep up to keep me from exploding.”
“I will try, Prestor,” said Tyrande.
Prestor turned his back to her and spread his wings slightly to give her better access.
“The plates are the coolest part of my back,” he said. “Keep your hands there.”
Tyrande gently placed her hands upon Prestor’s plates between his wings.
“I call upon the Grace of Elune,” she sang out her prayer. Her voice reaching a crescendo
just as she called forth the healing energies of Mother Moon. “Protect Prestor and Malfurion
and...” She paused and then focused upon Illidan and she swallowed dryly. “Illidan as they fight
the demons. Let the light of Mother Moon give the Earth-Warder strength to wield the dark disk
so that we may banish the demons.”
Prestor took a deep breath, feeling the soothing energies of the priestess seep into him.
He felt a few of the rips begin to close. The dragon then nodded to Malfurion and Illidan.
“Meld your energies with the disk,” he told them. “Give of yourselves.”
Malfurion and Illidan closed their eyes as they willed a piece of themselves into the
Demon Soul. Malfurion felt a grabby claw latch upon a dark part of his deep insides, pulling that
out to the surface. Illidan eagerly allowed himself to be drawn into the disk, desperately wanting
to be a part of something so powerful in hopes that he would receive the power back in return.
Prestor, through his own connections, bound their power into the disk, his own energies
enclosing around theirs and holding it together. The voices of the Old Gods began to chime into
their ears, promising them power. They promised Malfurion all of Kalimdor, Illidan godhood,
but they could not reach Prestor, who kept telling them to behave. But Illidan was smiling. With
this disk, all will worship him as their savior. Prestor’s wing rose up and then swatted the
sorcerer on the back of the head. Illidan faltered forward, his eyes opening. He looked to the
dragon who stared back with one eye open. All Prestor did was shake his head at the elf.
Illidan’s face twisted in defiance at the dragon’s negativity.
He stands in your way...
“N’Zoth, I swear to whatever power out there in the Black,” said Prestor. “That I will rip
every tentacle from your body.” He faced Illidan again. “And you...what did I tell you?”
Illidan snorted, his frown drew deeper.
“Do not speak to me as if I am nothing,” he said.
139
“Do not piss me off,” said Prestor. “Or I’ll change history right now and make you
nonexistent.”
“Change history...” Illidan whispered. The ground trembled under them as Prestor lost
his concentration. He shut his eyes and mentally snatched up Illidan’s will. He could sense in
the argument that the shield was weakening.
Keep your will here, he ordered in Illidan’s mind. Or we all die!
Illidan fed his will upon the shield, melding his power with it. The golden shield turned
to a sickly green color and Prestor knew why. Illidan’s connection to Sargeras. A piece of the
dragon was still keeping an eye on him. The other parts were melding with the rock below. He
felt stable, sturdy, and strong. And his connection to Malfurion allowed him to feel every heart
of every creature, and the life of every tree. Life vibrated deep inside of him and he felt like he
was wrapped in a warm, comfy blanket...or Calia’s arms. Prestor smiled at the warmth.
So this is what Alex and Ysera feel, he thought.
Malfurion on the other hand was feeling the elements. He felt strong as the rock, as free
as the wind, loose as the water, and the ranging heat of the core. He felt the heart of the world.
And the two spoke to all who heard their voices. They reached out to the world, every rock and
tree, and the Demon Soul fueled their voices, making them loud and boisterous. And they
replied back with an awful discord. Prestor opened his eyes as he began to feel the sounds of the
battles, swords clashing, men dying, it all silenced. He felt the power of the Dragon Soul fill
him, ripping his scales. He opened his mouth wide, ready to scream in agony. But Tyrande
numbed his pain, holding strong to him. The pain no longer mattered, only Azeroth–only Calia.
If he died, at least Calia will live on for him. Prestor looked around just as the world itself
started to slow. Every movement coming to a halt as the silence continued on. The only thing he
could hear was the beating of his heart. He turned his head, the motion felt like he was trying to
move in syrup. Then, everything sped up. The demons one by one lifted off, flying through the
air, being sucked back towards the Well. Leaves blew off from the trees as the wind carried them
back towards the portal. It was working!
Then, he heard a loud roar coming from the Well itself. The roar was in defiance, as the
wind blew violently across them.
“What is that?” Malfurion asked.
“Sargeras,” said Illidan. “Keep concentrating.”
“We have to close the portal,” said Prestor. “The Dark Titan must not step through!”
Neltharion! Prestor heard the cry of Alexstrasza. We will assist you. We all will combine
our powers together to close this horrible portal once and for all. Sister, help me.
Don’t falter, big brother, said Ysera
I will try not to, little sister...Prestor said. But this is a huge strain even on my resources!
I can only do so much without the Demon Soul trying to make me explode. The matrix is too
unstable.
We will in stabilizing the matrix as best as we can, Neltharion, said Alexstrasza.
Won’t be enough, we need a blue dragon here too...
It’ll have to do.
“Damn it, Malygos!” Prestor called. “Why did I...why did he...I’m so sorry, my
brother...”
140
“Don’t waver, Prestor,” said Malfurion. “We’re here with you.”
There was a shift in the portal as if Sargeras’ concentration had momentarily left it.
Prestor! Krasus’ own voice echoed into him. It’s Brox! He did it. He’s distracted the
Demon Lord.
And Brox...?
Slain...
Saurfang will live on, said Prestor.
I will sing the loudest of his deeds, said Krasus. But now is the time, while Sargeras is
distracted. Malfurion, Prestor, collapse the portal.
“Here we go,” said Prestor. “Malfurion, we’ll...sunder it. I’ll plug that hole with piles and
piles of rock no one will ever find it again! Azeroth will bury it! And that monster will be
trapped for all time! I’m sure N’Zoth will enjoy the company.” His green eyes glowed brightly.
“Now, Malfurion!”
An explosion rocked every stone, every boulder, and rolled through the dirt just as the
last of the demons were sent on their way. It was a low, but powerful sound, like the low
grumble of a massive, empty stomach, and the ground itself heaved and buckled under their feet.
The portal was collapsing. The glow of the Demon Soul ceased and Prestor, Illidan, and
Malfurion collapsed upon the ground. The disk plunks between them. Prestor gasped and
coughed a few splashes of molten lava from his jaws. The globs of lava caught the grass and
hissed and smoked. Prestor patted the fuming blades, dousing the fire. He lifted his head at the
sound of a low moan. Tyrande rushed to Malfurion’s side and helped him up just as Illidan and
Prestor came to their feet as well. Every part of their bodies ached and throbbed. Prestor’s green
eyes darted two and fro as the moan grew louder.
Yes, as you promised! Yes! Chaos!
Prestor looked down upon the disk as it pulsated with the sound of N’Zoth’s voice. He
picked the disk up and peered into it.
“Yeah...as I promised...” he said. “Oh, son-of-a-bitch...”
“What?” asked Malfurion. They stumbled forward as cracks etched through the ground,
soil giving way to darkness. Hot steam sprayed from the cracks and lava fountains gushed
forward. Prestor sensed just how deep the trembling went. It vibrated all the way down through
the crust and to the core, only stopped by the viscous, molten rocks down below. Illidan stepped
back, as another fissure opened up.
“What’s happening?” he asked.
“The Sundering,” said Prestor.
“The what?” asked Illidan.
“Kalimdor,” said Malfurion. “Kalimdor is breaking apart, Illidan! The collapse of the
portal was so great that the whole continent is being shattered.”
Prestor grew to his full size, stepping back away from the three mortals. Then, he
lowered himself to the ground. Malfurion and Tyrande grabbed onto his scales, climbing
themselves up to his shoulders. His huge head swung around as Illidan stepped forward. He
marveled upon the chaos transpiring.
“The Well, it’s eating the land,” he whispered. “Magnificent...”
141
Prestor rolled his eyes and before Illidan could exposit anymore drama, the Black Dragon
snatched him into his claw. Calling the Demon Soul to him, Prestor kicked off, beating his
wings powerfully just as the black waters began to rush in. He cleared the trees and Malfurion
and Tyrande looked back to see the maelstrom at the center growing wider and wider,
swallowing up more land. Prestor heard a bellow just as Alexstrasza and Ysera flew up right
beside him. All around him, he saw dragons flying in to snatch up the fleeing elves, dwarves,
tauren, and many others as the black waters spread out. A few minutes flight and they were
finally past Zin-Azshari, the water continuing to swallow the land up right behind them. The city
began to break apart, falling stone after stone into the water.
“Queen Azshara,” said Tyrande. “And the rest of them...what...what will become of
them?”
“Dead,” said Malfurion.
“Nope,” said Prestor.
“No?” asked Malfurion, looking back at the dragon.
“No.”
“What do you mean ‘no’?” he asked. “How can Azshara survive that?”
“You’ll find out later,” said Prestor, his eye turning back to the druid. “Trust me.”
“There’s a lot of things I’m going to find out, isn’t there?” asked Malfurion.
“Yeah...” the dragon nodded. “A lot of things. But, take them in stride. At least they will
all happen one at a time.”
Malfurion turned to feel Tyrande squeeze him tighter, clutching to him, bracing herself
against his back. She shut her eyes, her blue hair flowing around her as the massive EarthWarder leveled off. Still, clutched to his claw was Illidan and in the other was the Demon Soul.
He kept mind to keep those two as far apart as he could. He much rather hand Illidan over to one
of his sisters, but, he wanted to make sure he knew where the sorcerer was. The dragons and
their survivors flew onward. A day had passed and the dragons had not faltered. They kept
flying strong with their passengers upon their backs. Prestor looked to find Rhonin riding on a
bronze dragon. The human wizard was still there. Krasus clung to Alexstrasza as she flew closer
to him.
“You knew all of this would happen...” she said. “And I didn’t want to believe you,
Neltharion.”
“I wanted it not to happen either,” said Prestor. “I thought I was the fault of it all, but, my
disk was only a catalyst. It still would have happened, even without my disk...”
“No,” said Krasus. “Without the Demon Soul, Sargeras would have made it through. You
and Malfurion used it to close the portal. Through this destruction, our world is saved.”
“I...suppose...” he said. “But all this saving the world, Krasus. I didn’t do it to save the
world. I was being selfish again. I did it for Calia. All for Calia.”
“I didn’t realize that you actually loved her,” said Krasus.
“I did,” said Prestor. He huffed a chuckle. “Deathwing didn’t.”
“Then, you two really are of two minds in one body,” said Alexstrasza. “Deathwing and
Neltharion. How...how did this...happen...?”
142
Just as Prestor was about to explain, another roar echoed from the center of the
Maelstrom. He slowed and flipped back just as a massive tentacle darted up from the mouth of
the whirlpool. More followed.
“That...” he said. “That’s what happened.” Prestor puffed his chest out and then bellowed
to the tentacle. “N’Zoth! Get back in your cage, you ugly squid!”
You think you can be rid of us so easily, Earth-Warder?
“No, but I think I’ll fry me some calamari from your hide when I’m done!” Prestor called
just as he dove back for the tentacles rising up. Malfurion and Tyrande clinged tightly to him.
Then, an enormous maw filled with nothing but teeth attached to a stalk rose from the water.
Prestor spun as the maw dove into the water, snapping its jaws. The maw rose up again, and
slicing tentacles slung towards him. He dove and spun as each tentacle darted for him. The
Black Dragon folded his wings as he bound between two stalks. Then, he gurgled and released
his lava upon the chitinous hide of the monster.
“Get back to your cage!” he bellowed again, spraying his liquid fire upon the creature.
He clung tightly to the Demon Soul, feeling it glowing again, burning his palm.
“Prestor, the disk!” said Malfurion. “He wants the disk!”
“I won’t give it to him!” said Prestor. “You sundered my mind as I helped sunder the
continent! You got your chaos, you got your calamity. Now, get back to your cage!”
A tendril thrusted forth and Prestor snapped his jaws, biting it clear off. Another took its
place and then wrapped itself around Prestor’s hind foot. He looked back just as he was jerked
towards the mouth of the raging Maelstrom. The dragon frantically beat his wings, trying to fly
himself away from N’Zoth’s grasp.
You will not escape me, Neltharion!
“Let me go!” Prestor called. “Let go, squid!”
I will be freed!
“Not as I still draw breath!” Prestor said. “As long as I live...you will never be free!”
Then I will take you and your mortal friends to my cage...
“Fuck that too!” Prestor called.
Then, another rumble sounded and the black waters of the Well of Eternity receded down
into the the gaping hole. He heard the roar of N’Zoth as the waters collided down. Prestor felt
the hold of his foot lessen as the tentacle disappeared into nothing more than black smoke. The
others also vanished and the maw melted away. Prestor sped fast over the receding waters
coming right back to the others. What was left of Kalimdor was nothing more than a fractured
land with a massive hole in the center. Mountains continued to slide down into the glowing
abyss of the enormous trenches now forming. Rifts erupted again and started to swiftly spread
the land. What would normally take millions of years was happening in a few days, the
continent was splitting into four. As the dragons continued their flight across to the north,
towards what would be known as Mount Hyjal, a rush of cool air began to flow across them.
Prestor glanced back again to see the massive ocean that took up most of the other half of the
world began to rush in, filling the massive basin that was the center of Kalimdor. He reached out
and aided the continents in their shift to the positions that he would know in modern times. He
felt the power of the world all around him as he commanded the plates to collide and spread.
New mountains formed, volcanoes blasted forth as old sheets sank. He took his passengers for a
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ride while the others continued on their way to Hyjal. He felt a release upon what power was
once nulled by the Well and the presence of his former self. Now that Deathwing was nowhere
to be found, Prestor had total command over the powers gifted to him by Khaz’Goroth nearly 70
thousand years ago. Lifting Illidan to his shoulders to free up his claw, he calmed the shifting of
the continents to a slow halt. Now what laid below him was an ocean thousands of miles wide.
“Hold your breaths!” he warned the elves on his back. Prestor dove into the sea and then
with a splash dove out, washing away the last of the black, fel-corrupted water that had covered
his body. The smaller cracks in his scales glowed a healthy, fiery orange again. Prestor flew
towards Mt. Hyjal. As he made his way towards land, a flash of gold came into his sights. It did
not come from the Demon Soul, but from something flying right beside him. Golden flecks
formed the body of a massive, bronze-golden dragon. Malfurion’s eyes were wide. The dragon
was half the size of Prestor, but still much larger than the other two Aspects. Around the radiant,
golden dragon’s thick neck was a long, striped scarf. He sensed a different sort of power and an
agelessness to the dragon. Prestor smiled and laughed.
“Nozdormu!” he called. “Big brother...”
“Neltharion...” said Nozdormu. “And yesss, I will call you that now. I think you should
as well. Your other sssself is nowhere near.”
“Glad he’s gone,” said Neltharion, now finally admitting to that name again. “Can I go
home now? Calia’s gonna skin me if Alex tells here where I’ve been.”
The Time Lord laughed.
“Has she told her?” asked Neltharion.
“No,” said Nozdormu. “Because when I sssend you forward, it will be just one second
after you left. That way...only Alexstrasza will ssskin you.”
“That is a relief,” said Neltharion. “Wait...hey!”
Nozdormu laughed again, flying passed his little brother. Neltharion flapped his wings,
catching up to the much older Great Bronze.
“Who is he?” asked Malfurion.
“That is my big brother,” said Neltharion. “The oldest of all of us. That is the Steward of
Time, Nozdormu.” He looked on to his brother. “Have I changed anything?”
“Not drastic changes,” said Nozdormu. “But Alexstrasza is more determined than ever to
find a cure for you. When you return, don’t be ssssurprise that you will receive a headache.”
“Headache?” asked the Black Dragon.
“Your memories will be rewritten because of the changes made,” said Nozdormu.
“Sssubtle changes, but enough to cause a nosebleed. Some residual memories of the previous
timeline will ssstill be there, but...you will know all that happened in the new timeline as your
body catches up. You might black out.”
“Ow...”
“Ssstill,” Nozdormu said. “All that is supposed to happen will happen. And the Demon
Soul...the Demon Sssoul must be displaced.”
“Displaced?” asked Neltharion.
“That event must happen,” said Nozdormu. Then he turned his head to a small humanoid
riding upon his back. Neltharion was so happy to see his brother that he overlooked the figure
riding on the Bronze Aspect. Then, his eyes lit up when he saw the familiar cowled head and the
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black braids and red beads. A green hand pulled the hood away from his head and a pair of blue
eyes glistened back. An orc smiled.
“Earth-Warder,” he said.
“Thrall!” Neltharion gasped. “You’re...you’re here?”
Thrall opened his hand: “The Dragon Soul, Nel...if you don’t mind...”
“It has to be taken to Wyrmrest...to me...” said Neltharion, realizing what this meant. He
allowed the Dragon Soul to float on towards the World Shaman. Thrall clutched at the disk and
smiled again.
“Don’t worry about the disk,” he said. “I’ll try to convince you to use it.”
“I won’t want to,” said Neltharion. “And if I say ‘no’, just give me a good swat for it.”
“I will keep that in mind,” said the orc.
“I will be right back,” said Nozdormu as he banked off away from his brother. “Go meet
our siblings at Mt. Hyjal, I’ll be there in a moment.”
Just like that, the dragon vanished.
“That one looked like Brox,” said Malfurion. “Who was he?”
“That was...Brox’s Warchief,” said Neltharion. “You will meet him later too. When the
time comes. He will become a great friend to the people of Azeroth. And a hero. And...he will
eventually save me from my own madness.”
“Then, I will look forward to meeting him someday,” said Malfurion.
“I’ve heard Brox speak so highly of his Warchief,” said Tyrande. “It is nice to put a face
to a name.”
Illidan just snorted: “You had to give up the Demon Soul to that...creature...”
“Don’t start,” said Neltharion. “It was meant to go to Thrall. You have no idea what is at
stake.”
“That disk was the most powerful artifact in the world...”
“And you saw what evils it could do,” said Neltharion. “As soon as we get to Mt. Hyjal,
I’m gonna pound you to the ground, Illidan.”
All the sorcerer could do was sneer.
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The Tree
THE ARGUMENTS CAME. The two were split along their racial lines between the
Highborne and the common Night Elves. Already, Jarod Shadowsong was placing the blame
upon the Highborde and their leader Dath’Remar Sunstrider. Neltharion landed and unloaded his
passengers. Already Tyrande was joining the other priestesses to quell the argument. Neltharion
joined the other three Aspects. Ysera leaned up to give him a big hug. Alexstrasza smiled
sweetly at him.
“At least I have half of my brother Neltharion here,” she said.
“I shouldn’t be here any longer,” said Neltharion. “I don’t belong in this time.” He
looked to Nozdormu who then lumbered towards him. Nozdormu chuckled lowly, placing a
claw on his larger brother’s shoulder. Neltharion simply asked. “Can I go home now, big
brother?”
“Not yet,” said Nozdormu.
“I’ve done enough damage!” he called. “Alexstrasza knows what will become of me...”
“And I am happy for it,” said Alexstrasza. “I am happy that the madness of Deathwing
does not last long and that I am the one to help you return to me.”
Ysera buried her snout into Neltharion rough black scales. The Great Black wrapped his
wings around her.
“I think when you leave,” she began. “That I will miss you the most, big brother.”
Neltharion nuzzled her with his snout, his shaggy beard tickling her nose. She tucked her
head under his chin, smiling happily.
“It’s almost sad...” Ysera began. “The dreams he has. They’re so horrible now.”
“Don’t worry, little sister,” said Neltharion. “My dreams are happy now.”
Ysera turned her head p to see him, her closed eyes moving under the lids. Then, just for
a moment, she opened them, allowing her brother to see their sparkling colors. Her vision
cleared as her brother’s grinning face came into view. Then, she closed them again, drifting back
to her magical sleep.
“When I wake again,” she began. “I want to see your smiling face, Neltharion.”
Krasus walked up, smiling slightly when he saw the two black and green dragons
embrace each other. Then he turned to Nozdormu.
“It’s sad that I will never see him redeemed,” he said to the Time Lord.
“What do you mean?” asked Nozdormu. “You’ve seen him now.”
“Neltharion told me I will die trying to save my queen’s eggs,” he said.
“He did?” Nozdormu asked. he sighed, shaking his head. “Damn it...well, what do you
plan to do with that knowledge?”
“Should I let it happen?” Krasus asked.
“There is a reason why many horrible thingssss happen,” he said.
“He told me why he came here,” said Krasus. “To see me, to help me. But he did more
than that. He showed me that everything will be alright when I’m gone. I suppose, I can die
knowing Alexstrasza will be taken care of.”
“You can tell him that,” said Nozdormu, settling down on the grass. “Nel and Alex both
have a rocky relationship now. It has to do with Alexstrasza being over protective of her
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emotionally unstable brother and Neltharion wanting to just live his life doing all he can to help
the people he harmed as Deathwing.” Nozdormu laughed. “I’ve seen my little brother helping
old ladies across the street even! His altruism is running unchecked. It was his need to set
wrongs right that brought him here. Not about his honor, but because his sister was a grieving
widow.”
“So...you allowed him to come here...” said Krasus, looking back at the golden scaled
dragon.
“I would have never allowed my brother to come back and change history!” Nozdormu
growled, gritting his teeth. His face softened. “However, hissstory was not altered. Everything
happened as it should. The only thing that changed are the people who know him. They will be
more welcoming to him. That isss what I wanted changed.”
“You are preparing him for something,” began Krasus. “What?”
“It doesss not concern you,” said Nozdormu. “After all, you will be dead by the time it
comes. Why worry about ssssomething you will not have any part in?”
“I suppose,” said Krasus, with a heavy sigh. He looked back to Neltharion, Alexstrasza,
and Ysera. The three Aspects laughed, sharing happy conversations with each other. This was
how it really used to be and Krasus had to smile because of it. Neltharion turned to Krasus, his
green eyes glittering. Not an ounce of madness left. He let Ysera go and slowly lumbered to the
mage and Bronze Dragon.
“Well, I have said my good-byes,” he said.
“Not yet,” said Nozdormu.
“Why? he asked.
“There is ssstill one more thing I need you here for, Neltharion,” said the Bronze Dragon.
“And that is...?”
“You’ll see,” Nozdormu said with a cheeky grin. “And I want you to sssee it. Another
event that will happen.”
“All the events have happened,” said Neltharion. “My betrayal, the Sundering, what more
is there now?”
“You’ll see,” said Nozdormu. Then, he slowly lumbered back towards the other Aspects.
Neltharion sighed and shook his head.
“You really want to go home, don’t you?” asked Krasus.
“Don’t you?” asked Neltharion, lowering his whole body to the ground. The ground
trembled at the shift of his bulk.
“I do,” said Krasus. He gave a pat to the Great Black’s snout. “I suppose we both have
someone waiting for us back at home, Neltharion.”
“We do,” said Neltharion. Turned his eyes to Alexstrasza chatting with Nozdormu and
Ysera. His face darkened and he frowned. “Krasus, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I will be the reason
for her enslavement to the orcs. I’m sorry that I will hurt her in ways she cannot even imagine
right now.”
“I know you are,” said Krasus. “I know. I suppose even that has to happen. Maybe it’s
because it will get us dragons to come out and really do something instead of just lurking behind
the shadows.”
“That’s no excuse,” said Neltharion. “She is my sister. I...”
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“You didn’t do anything, Neltharion,” said Krasus, rubbing along his snout horn.
“Deathwing did it. I know that now. I know that your mind was...”
Neltharion turned his head away from the mage: “If I don’t take responsibility for my
actions now, then what good am I? I may have been of split minds when Deathwing began his
atrocities, but it was my body he used. My face, my voice.”
He rolled to his side and growled a sigh. Neltharion’s tail patted the ground.
“I wanted so much to undo everything,” he said. “We were once friends, weren’t we?”
“Yes,” said Krasus.
“Good friends?”
“Good friends,” said Krasus. “I tried my best in my younger years to emulate you. How
everyone looked up at you...I wanted to be that dragon too. I was a little jealous, really.”
Neltharion hefted a laugh, but his face twitched back to its solemn expression.
“Nothing to emulate now,” he said. “Not after what all I’ve done. Who would want to be
like me? No one. Half the time I don’t want to be me. It’s hard, Krasus.” He shifted again.
“Most of the world hates me and who can blame them? What I’ve done as Deathwing. Even
after nearly a year now of being freed of him, all those memories are still there. I’m trying my
best. I’ve gained the trust of a few allies. My sisters for one. Thrall likes me. The Earthen Ring
does as well. I help them out as much as I can to calm the raging elements that I caused during
the Cataclysm. Still, when I appear, people run and scream ‘Deathwing!’ at me. It has lessened
somewhat though, not many run as the used to.”
“At least,” said Krasus. He sat down upon the grass. “I think what you did here may help
the world when you go back.” He looked to Neltharion. “How...how many black dragons are left
in your time?”
“A few,” said Neltharion. “Five are loyal to me. The others...not so much. There are
blacks in Outland, but I have yet to get in touch with them. One of my sons is there. I’m hoping
that maybe some of my daughters are there too. I intend to go there soon to visit them, establish
a relationship with them. I hope being away from Azeroth, away from the Old Gods has changed
them. Then there are the changed black dragons, the Netherwings as they are called. Black
dragons who’s eggs when they were transported to Outland, were affected by the Twisting
Nether. They are still my dragons my flight, even if they don’t look it anymore. I want to see
them too.”
“Must be hard having a flight that’s split, most are against you while a few may be loyal,”
said Krasus. “You don’t know who to trust.”
“I’m not alone,” said Neltharion. “At least.”
He smiled again, thinking of Calia.
“What a strange family you have, Earth-Warder,” said Krasus. “Married to the only
surviving Menethil, heir to Lordaeron now since what happened to her brother. Half your family
are dragons the other half...noble born humans...and one’s now an undead Death Knight who
murdered his own father.”
“Arthas,” said Neltharion. “My brother-in-law. Calia...she’s got the same fire that her
brother has, same ambition, but...she watches herself. She doesn’t want to end up like her
brother. Her eyes, Krasus. I see it in her eyes. Much like Arthas’ eyes.” His grin broadened. “I
love that fire that she has. And me...I think she knows why she loves me...”
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“Why?” asked Krasus.
“Human women love men that they can fix,” Neltharion said with a deep chuckle.
“Brooding, with a troubled past...something they can work with, something they can fix, mold,
shape. Human women don’t want just a husband, they want a project that they can go back again
and again and work on. It’s a fantasy of theirs. And me with these plates and my...tortured
past...I’m perfect for her. She’s got some skills as a blacksmith. She can fix my plates and fix
my personality.”
“I never knew that about human women,” said Krasus.
Neltharion rolled to his back, tilting his head to peer at the dragon mage.
“You’d be amazed by what you can find out about human women,” he said. “I love her,
Krasus, more than I loved anyone or anything. That’s why the Dragon Soul has no affect on me
anymore. What good is that disk when I found Calia? I would trade in a hundred Dragon Souls
for her.” Neltharion took in a deep breath and huffed, a wisp of smoke escaped his jaws. “I never
truly loved someone before. Not even Sintharia. I cared for Sintharia, up until Deathwing took
over...but...Calia. She’s different. I don’t know why she is, but she is. I love her.”
“As I love Alexstrasza,” said Krasus.
“I don’t think she ever shared those feelings for anyone else but you, Krasus,” said
Neltharion. “Not even Tyranastrasz was held in the same regard. She loves you as well.” He
smiled again. “She said she would never do anything to tear Calia and I apart, seeing that the
love I have for Calia was the love she had for you. Drove the knife deeper which is why I came
here. I found out about who you were, Krasus. I found out that you were there, two of you, right
here and now. And it kept whirling and whirling in my mind on how you did it. I wanted to help
you destroy the Dragon Soul. I wanted to help you tell Alexstrasza of my betrayal before it
happened. When I first came to this time, my first intention was to steal the Dragon Soul and
destroy it. Then, I would appear to you, showing you the shards and say...here...here it is!
Alexstrasza won’t have to be a slave, I won’t have to go crazy now, Malygos can still be my
friend and brother.” His smile faded. “But it was never meant to be. None of it was.”
“No,” said Krasus.
Neltharion rolled over again and he lowered his head to the mage.
“I want you to be my friend again,” he said. “At least just for now.”
“I...I don’t think I can truly be your friend, Neltharion,” said Krasus, focusing upon the
Great Black’s green eyes. “Not when I go back to my time and you’re still Deathwing. And
since I will die, I will never get that chance to be your friend.”
Neltharion’s eyes became downcast and he licked his lips and swallowed. Once more a
rumble of disappointment and sadness escaped him.
“I want you to do me a favor though when you return to your time,” began Krasus.
“Anything!”
“Take care of my love and queen,” he said. “At least for me. I heard you two don’t really
get along much.”
“Most of the time I feel like a stranger to her,” said Neltharion.
“Don’t be a stranger then,” said Krasus. “And take care of Alexstrasza. I’m sure she
misses you a lot.” He smiled softly. “I really meant what I said. If she wasn’t your sister, you
would have made a great mate for her.”
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“Don’t start that again...” Neltharion growled, barring his teeth. “I’m not going to be her
damned lover! She’s my little sister! That’s disgusting.”
“I don’t want you to,” said Krasus. “But I do mean what I said. If you weren’t the EarthWarder, if you were a member of her flight, something tells me that you would have been in my
place as the one she truly loves.” He rocked upon the grass. “You would have had her love. She
loves you more than just her older brother, Neltharion. I’m not saying you should...return those
feelings to her, but do care for her and look out for her. No one suffered as much of a betrayal as
she did. I know, I was there when she cried. She didn’t know who to trust after that. She felt
like her heart was just torn from her chest. It was because you were her heart.”
“How...how the hell did Alexstrasza ever begin to have...those feelings for me?” he
asked.
“I don’t know,” said Krasus.
“Calia would skin me,” said Neltharion. “And I would...hate myself even more if I did
that to...Alex. And I think Alex would skin me too. No...she’s my sister. I love my sister, but
she is not my mate. The thought just repulses me and makes me think about what Nefarian and
Onyxia did.” He sighed and smiled again. “I will care for my sister. It’s just that she does get on
my nerves a lot. She’s so overprotective of me.”
“She’s your sister, she’s supposed to do that.”
Neltharion laughed and all Krasus could do was join him.
§§§
Neltharion was on water duty. He took a few Night Elves with barrels to gather up water
from the moist ground not far from the camp site. The enormous Black Dragon moved his front
paws gracefully in a swirling motion, pulling the water out of the trees and the grass all around
them, leaving dried, brown plant life in his wake. He then sent it to the barrels. The other Night
Elves cut the dried trees for wood to build fires and temporary shelters for the refugees left by
the Sundering. As soon as he filled the barrels, they all returned back to the camp. Scoters were
sent out to find a more stable source of clean water so that they would not have to rely on
Neltharion’s elemental manipulation. Malfurion was giving his speech about how connected the
Night Elves were since the Sundering and they will survive after the war with the demons. The
elves marveled at Malfurion’s antlers, calling them a gift from the gods for rescuing them. They
were in no way disgusted by them and they placed him upon the level of the demigods or the
ancient Aspects who risked their lives for the Night Elves. Malfurion advised that the heroism
did not solely lie with him and he mentioned the dragons who offered their services to help the
elves. Neltharion smiled when the name of Prestor came up along with the names of the
Aspects. However, he did not state that Prestor was an Aspect himself, which Neltharion was
grateful for. He smiled each time an elf greeted him, calling him Prestor, thanking him for his
help. To him, he was a completely different person, to them he was a hero.
Unlike Deathwing, who begat the name of Xaxas from the Night Elves, a mixture of
chaos and elemental fury in their language. Tyrande had a hand in that.
Prestor the hero. To the Night Elves, the name Prestor would mean hero. Almost an
irony that the name Prestor would be used again by Deathwing to disguise himself. However,
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this was long before the Night Elves would come out of hiding, long before the Third War, when
the Burning Legion returned 10 thousand years later. Though being called a hero made
Neltharion’s chest swell with pride each time he heard it.
He spied Rhonin and Krasus among the refugees, talking to one another as Malfurion
concluded his speech. With a smile, he shrank his size, becoming as small a they were, and
trotted towards them merrily. Rhonin and Krasus let loose a shout of shock when the dragon
reared up and thumped his forelegs upon their shoulders, leaning his great weight upon them.
“Hey, guys!” he called.
“Prestor!” Rhonin squawked in shock.
“Neltharion,” exhaled Krasus.
“Before anything else happening, I want to say it’s been fun,” said Neltharion. “And I do
appreciate either of you two not killing me.”
“Wouldn’t be able to if we tried,” said Rhonin.
“And Krasus,” said Neltharion. “Loosen up. Everything happens as it should...”
“Everything,” said Krasus. “Where’s the Demon Soul? You didn’t arrive with it.”
“Nozdormu has it,” he said, sliding away from them. “I told you we need it.”
“But...Alexstrasza...” began Krasus. “What will happen to her.”
“I don’t want it to happen either,” said Neltharion. “But Lord Daval Prestor must do what
he has to do.”
He turned towards Rhonin and placed a claw upon his shoulder.
“When I return to my time,” Neltharion began. “I owe you a drink for all the trouble I
caused you, Rhonin.”
Krasus began to laugh.
“You don’t have to...” said Rhonin.
“No,” he shook his head, giving the mage’s shoulder a squeeze. “I mean it. I’ve caused
you such grief and I’m sorry and I owe you a drink. I will pay for the drinks and we can talk
about all the times I’ve screwed you over and insult me until the sun rises the next day. When all
I need to do is done at Wyrmrest, I will fly to Dalarand and you can take me to the pub of your
choice and I will by the most expensive drink you can think of!”
“He is insistent, Rhonin,” said Krasus with a smile.
“And I will make a donation to the continued support of the Kirin Tor,” said Neltharion.
“If you accept gems and gold as a donation.”
“That’s all you have now?” asked Rhonin.
“I’m afraid when I was redeemed,” he began. “I became flat broke in the process. But I
know where to find the finest ore in Azeroth.”
“We could use the ore for staves and wands,” said Rhonin.
“Just give me the shopping list of what you need,” said Neltharion. He swung his head
around, searching for one that seemed missing while Malfurion was giving his speech. There
was Malfurion and Tyrande talking with each other, getting the reports from the scouts.
Malfurion nodded, dismissing the scout. He and Tyrande walked up to the three, waving at
them. Neltharion leaned back, grinning.
“You are quite the hero among your people, druid,” said the Black Dragon.
“Thanks to all your help,” said Malfurion. “We found a lake just up the mountain.”
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“Good!” Neltharion barked. “My forelegs are getting tired from all the ‘water bending’.”
Malfurion dipped his head. Then he looked around, his expression darkened to a face of
worry.
“Has anyone seen my brother Illidan?” he asked. “He disappeared during the speech.”
“We have not,” said Krasus.
Malfurion sighed, shaking his head. Tyrande touched his shoulder.
“It will be alright, we will find him,” she said. “I’m sure our friends will help us look for
him as well.”
“Of course,” said Neltharion.
“Tell me if you find him,” he said.
Krasus dipped his head. As Malfurion and Tyrande parted from the group, returning to
the Night Elves, the dragon mage pulled Rhonin and Neltharion close to him. His face frowned.
“This is not good,” he whispered. “Illidan missing. We all know what will happen to
him...”
“He gets turned into a demon,” said Rhonin. “And he tries to recreate the Well of
Eternity.”
“The problem is when does he do it?” asked Neltharion, rumbling lowly. “We all know he
will, but when? Not even I know that. As you can see, I am out of commission right now...at
least my evil self is. So I did not bare witness to him trying to recreate the Well.”
“And thank the Titans for it,” said Krasus. “We need to find him. This is Mount Hyjal,
the place where Nordrassil will be born.”
“To keep the new Well’s energies from calling the Burning Legion,” said Rhonin.
“Malfurion said there was a lake just up the mountain here,” said Neltharion. He licked
his lips and then scratched his scales. He glanced back, seeing a few Night Elves passing behind
him. “I hope you two don’t mind, but I feel like a drink at that lake.”
Krasus nodded: “I hope the lake is fresh, Prestor.”
“I hope it is still a lake,” said Neltharion.
He backed away from the two humanoids to return back to his true, massive size.
Spreading his great black wings, he caught the wind. One powerful downbeat sent a gust to
Krasus and Rhonin. They covered their eyes just as the Earth-Warder took off in a powerful
leap. Neltharion cleared the trees, flying smoothly up the side of the mountain. His green eyes
scanned the tops of the trees and his scaly brow furrowed in concern.
“This place looks strangely familiar,” he rumbled to himself. Neltharion flapped his
wings, swiftly scaling the mountain. He caught the updraft, spreading his wings wide. The
Black Dragon hovered over, his wings angling out. He slid across the air sideways as he came to
a plateau between two peaks. A hawk glided down, catching its evening prey. There upon the
plat was a dark, clear green lake in the middle of a deep green forest. At the north end of the
cusp was an island with tall pines nearly covering it, but it became bare close to the edge of the
red clay shore. He landed near the shore, his feet sinking into the clay. Neltharion leaned down
to the water and his thick, long, pink tongue lapped out to the surface. It tasted like water.
Leaning up, Neltharion waved his claws and the water splashed forth in a long, curved wave. A
flap of his wings and the water froze into a sharp, jagged wall of ice. Then, a twist of his wrist
and the ice melted, falling back into the lake as water with a splash. It was water, just water.
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Neltharion recalled he had no power over the Well’s black waters because it was not water at all,
it was arcane energy. The Black smiled and then leaned down for another drink, delighting in its
taste. It was clean and sweet. As he lapped thirstily up, the taste suddenly made a sharp change.
The water became bitter. Neltharion leaned up, spitting out the water. Glowing, iridescent blue
drops fell from his chin. The lake’s waters began to glow with a strange, alien energy. Then, the
glow intensified as glistening lights began to dance upon its surface. Neltharion thumped a foot
down and the clay dirt responded with the a similar odd ring. The clay was being affected by
arcane energies. The lake was being polluted.
“Damn it...” Neltharion growled.
He kicked off the island and with a swift
downbeat, began to follow along the lake. The
lake was wide, but not very long,
stretching out across the forest. There
seemed to be no tributaries feeding it,
which Neltharion thanked. The last
thing he needed was the Well’s
energies spreading and
contaminating other water sources.
Most likely, the lake was being was
fed by rainwater running off from the
bank. The lake itself was only a couple of
miles in width and at least a mile in length,
certainly enough water to survive on and fine fishing as well. Already, the fish were
floating bely up, being killed off by the poisonous arcane energies. Sooner or later, this lake will
start to stink. Animals fled the shore, no longer able to drink the water.
Finally, Neltharion’s search came to an end, and he found the source of the corrupted
water. As he circled the northern shore, Neltharion found Illidan, Malfurion’s twin and the
sparkle of vials filled with water from the Well of Eternity. The elf was struggling against the
others who came to stop him. The dragon had come to late. Illidan cast a fiery spell and
watched with maddened glee as several of the Highborne elves died in the flames.
“You will never touch the new Well!” he called.
Dath’Remar was knocked out. Neltharion landed and slammed his paw down upon
Illidan before the sorcerer could cast another spell. Illidan sent out fire blast after fire blast upon
the dragon’s palm, but Neltharion made no attempt to move away. The fire was little more than a
tickle to him.
“I’m fighting a creature made of fire, what can I use?” Neltharion asked. “Oh, of course,
more fire! You’re an idiot, Illidan.”
“Damn you, dragon!” Illidan spat.
“I told you not to piss me off,” said the dragon with a low growl, lifting his paw to peer
down at the sorcerer. As he removed his paw, Illidan was immediately trapped by slabs of rocks
jutting forth from the ground. They pinned his arms and legs. Elves moved out of the way as
Neltharion began to circle around. His size shrank again. He raised a claw and patted the sturdy
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rocks holding the treacherous sorcerer. He turned his head to the others. Maiev Shadowsong
rushed to her brother Jarod and knelt down to his side. Her face twisting with grief.
“He’s not dead...” she said. “But he could have been. If that bastard hadn’t...”
“If anyone will punish him,” began Neltharion. “It should be his own brother.”
Already, many of the other wounded were being healed just as Tyrande and Malfurion
came up the mountain side. Those who stood were helping the wounded up.
“Prestor!” Malfurion called. “My brother...”
Neltharion turned around just as Illidan shouted: “Get this beast away from me!”
Suddenly, he began to choke and sputter, leaves shooting from his mouth. Malfurion
shook his head in dismay, his eyes now coming focused upon the polluted lake.
“I should have seen this coming,” he said.
“I never realized how many vials of the Well he had!” Tyrande called, seeing the lake.
She held her breath.
Dath’Remar lifted up from the ground, his joints aching.
“I always wondered why he stood so close to the Well so much,” he said.
“And none of you thought to even search his pockets?” Neltharion asked, his brow
twitching. “Who’s the bigger idiot here?”
The Highborne elf crossed his arms in frustration, snorting at the dragon’s assessment.
Malfurion walked to his brother and began to rifle through his pouches. He pulled from the
pouch five more vials filled with the black water of the Well. The tops were decorated with the
faces of Azshara. His eyes came to Illidan’s and narrowed. Neltharion shook his head and
motioned for Tyrande to follow him. She left Malfurion to scold his brother, following the
dragon. He leaned down to the shore, scooping up some of the iridescent water into his paw.
Neltharion turned around, his cupped paw holding the water for Tyrande to inspect.
“It’s corrupted,” he said. “I drank from the lake as it was changing and spat the foul stuff
out. The entire lake has been changed right to the tiny island at the deepest part of the lake. One
by one, the fishes died, belly up. And the smell will be bad in a few days.”
“Illidan...” sighed Tyrande. “Did you or Krasus know this was going to happen?”
“Knew,” he replied with a grunt. “We never knew when. I didn’t know he would do it
now.”
“Is there a way to fix this?” she asked.
Neltharion dropped the glowing liquid back into the lake and gave a warm smile.
“There is a way,” he said, placing a claw upon her shoulder. “A tree.”
“A tree?” she asked.
“A very special tree,” said Neltharion. His smile broadened when the shadows of
draconic wings touched the ground. Malfurion looked up just as the other Aspects landed,
Alexstrasza moving out in front, standing rather stately before them. Nozdormu turned and
faced Neltharion and cocked his head, signaling for the Black to approach. Rhonin and Krasus
leapt down from his glistening back. Neltharion returned to his true size and Ysera moved to
allow him to stand at Alexstrasza’s right. The Green Dragon leaned her head against her
brother’s shoulder and he let loose a deep chuckle. Then, she leaned back up and giggled softly.
Alexstrasza placed a crimson claw upon his black shoulder and Neltharion craned his thick neck
to nuzzle her head.
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“Do you have it?” he asked softly.
“The last seed of G’Hanir,” she whispered. “Why should I give it to them after all they’ve
done?”
“Not all Night Elves are to blame sister,” said Neltharion. “And it will stand as testament
for the follies of their nobles and remind them never to do this again.”
“Where should we plant it?” asked Alexstrasza.
“I know where,” said Krasus.
§§§
They all gathered at the shore of the small island in the south where the water was the
deepest. Illidan had been shackled and taken away while all the most important were made to
witness what was about to transpire. Neltharion separated himself from his siblings, standing
beside Rhonin and Krasus. The gift he would bestow the tree he knew would come much later.
He watched as Nozdormu, with a paw, dug the earth where the seed would be planted. It was in
the middle of the day, the time that the Life Queen had chosen. Most of the elves had not even
seen the sun, for the night was their power. But this time of the day was perfect for the ritual
about to be performed. Alexstrasza dropped the seed in and Ysera covered it up with dirt.
“We cannot hold all to blame for the suffering of Kalimdor,” she began. “Nor can we
state that all Night Elves are innocent. This is the seed of G’Hanir, the Mother Tree, the only one
saved since its mistress had fallen in battle. We were going to use it to help rebuild what we
dragons have lost...but...”
“But with the revival of the Well through Illidan’s actions,” began Neltharion. “The tree
which will grow will suppress its energies. No one will ever use the arcane powers of the Well
again. And this world will be safe from the demons of the Burning Legion.”
“Yes,” said Alexstrasza.
Neltharion stepped around, watching closely as the his siblings began to bless the tree as
it began to sprout out powerfully from the ground.
“I give Strength and Healthy Life to the night elves, for so long as the tree stands,” said
Alexstrasza. Out from her flowed a red glow.
Malfurion took Tyrande’s hand as the tree grew taller and taller, creaking branches
arching to the sky, becoming much larger than the other trees on the island. Alexstrasza stepped
away and Nozdormu stepped forward.
“Time will be on the night elvesss’ side once again, for I grant them continued
Immortality, forever a chance to learn, for asss long asss the tree stands…” he said, a golden
glow blessing the tree.
The tree continued to grow, sprouting its leaves. They ripened to their luscious green
color. The roots bolted forth just as Ysera guided them down to the water of the corrupted lake.
Nozdormu backed away to let his younger sister grant her blessing.
“To the night elves, who have lost their hopes, I give forth the ability to Dream again. To
Dream, to Imagine, for in that is the best hope of rebuilding, of recovering, of growing…” She
looked ready to do as the other Aspects had, but then paused. Her head swung toward Malfurion
and she smiled. “And to those who follow the path of one held special by me—and mine—I
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grant him and the other druids to come the path into the Emerald Dream, where, even in their
deepest sleep, they may cross the world, learn from it, and draw upon its own strength…the
better to guide Kalimdor’s health and safety throughout the future.”
Neltharion smiled and then with a gentle nudge, pushed Malfurion forward with the side
of his elementium bladed tail. Malfurion looked around as the other elves looked to him with
hope and Tyrande holding onto his arm, pride filling her chest. She smiled and then looked up at
the tree.
“It is so beautiful,” she whispered.
Then the three Aspects turned around, facing the one final Aspect who had not given his
blessing. Neltharion swallowed, looking to his siblings with confusion. His head swung to
Nozdormu, his green eyes locking onto his cyan ones.
“I can’t!” he hissed. “You...you know why...”
“Tell them,” said Nozdormu as he motioned to the Night Elves.
The Earth-Warder cleared his throat and sighed, shifting his wings around. He rumbled.
“Some of you are wondering...” he said deeply. “The one to give his blessing is not here.
But it is a blessing that can be only granted to the tree itself. Probably the blessing it needs the
most for it to survive. But this blessing will come. It is the blessing of the earth for it is from the
earth in which all trees grow strong from...but my blessing would be the strength of the heart for
where ever you go, you will all be connected.” He approached the tree and out from his paws
came a wisp of purple energy. “The strength from within is as important as health and vitality.”
He stood away as the tree finally came to a full stop. The tree was so huge that each of
the dragons, including the massive Earth-Warder, could perch upon its branches and look nothing
more than tiny birds. For a long while, they all marveled upon the massive tree and the hope it
held. Malfurion finally shared a kiss with Tyrande. In the middle of it all, Nozdormu had
slipped away taking Krasus, Rhonin, and Neltharion with him. Even with the dragon so massive,
with the power of the Time Lord, he could sneak away. They were nothing more than shadows
flowing through the world. Neltharion rumbled as he stood before his brother. He looked down
upon Rhonin, noticing the axe he held in his hand.
“Who’s is that?” he asked.
“Brox’s,” said Rhonin. “I thought that...maybe...for his sacrifice...”
“They will sing great songs of him,” said Krasus. “But how to truly do it?”
“I am certain that you will find a way,” said Nozdormu with a half smile.
Krasus turned to the clearing to see his beloved queen. Once more, his thoughts came to
her. There was so much unsaid, so much he wanted to say. Especially about what would happen
to her.
“You could...” said Rhonin.
“No,” he said. “We’ve meddled in the future enough already.”
“Yesss, you have,” said Nozdormu. He then looked to Neltharion and pulled out a golden
disk from behind his back. “There is one more thing that mussst be done. Neltharion, the
monster hasss been defeated as it should. We can only partially bind the disk, but only you can
make sure that Deathwing will never use it again.”
Neltharion nodded and then bit into his claw. His fiery, glowing blood dripped down
upon the disk, and the disk swallowed it up as it hit the surface. Then he allowed a simple scrape
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upon the surface of the disk so finite, so minuscule, that not even Deathwing’s maddened mind
would not notice it. The disk’s surface was no longer perfect, it was imperfect. He then allowed
the disk to float back to the Time Lord.
“Hide it where he can’t find it until the time is right,” he said to his brother. He turned to
Krasus. “I’m sorry...”
Krasus closed his eyes, knowing what he meant. Alexstrasza’s future was not going to be
bright.
“You save her,” said Neltharion. “Remember?” He turned to Rhonin. “And you destroy
this when he does.” He pointed to the Demon Soul. “And the world is safe. The Aspects get
their power back.” He looked to Nozdormu. “Well...”
“Now, you can go home,” said Nozdormu.
“Going home won’t be easy after I found out what Alexstrasza really feels about me...”
he said.
“It never issss...”
Neltharion turned to Krasus: “I really do mean it. I wanted to be your friend.”
“I wish we could be,” said Krasus. “But when I return back to my own time, you will be
Deathwing and I can’t be friends with him.”
“I know,” he said with a heavy sigh. Neltharion’s head lowered. “I know.”
“Take care of her,” said Krasus. “Take good care of my queen.”
“She’s my sister,” smiled the Earth-Warder. “I will always take care of her.”
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Home Again
“CHROMIE, GET NOZDORMU!” Alexstrasza called, watching as her brother disappeared
through the golden tim rift. The smaller bronze dragon nodded and then flew off and
disappeared in a golden flash. Alexstrasza turned to the sound of flapping wings just as
Kalecgos flew in, landing beside her. The Life Queen shook her head, her brow wrinkled with
worry.
“Why would he do this?” she asked. “Why?”
“He wants to change the past,” said Kalecgos. “Deathwing has done so much evil over
these ten thousand years that Neltharion feels he is to blame for it. And maybe we all put too
much blame on him. I suppose I’m partially to blame, taking up the position that his best friend
once held. And I said that to me, he will always be Deathwing. I was born after he betrayed
everyone and nearly killed off most of the Blue Dragonflight. We were lucky that Malygos had
some foresight to send Sindragosa and a few others north–unfortunately at the cost of
Sindragosa’s life. Still, the other blues were safe.”
“Malygos sent half his flight north?” asked Alexstrasza. “I never knew that. I always
thought a few just stayed behind to care for some of the eggs. He...did he know that his flight
would be...I mean only his were killed that day...how would he know to save a few back...” She
scratched her red neck. “Deathwing meant to completely obliterate the Blue Dragonflight.”
“If he did destroy all of us,” began Kalecgos. “I would not be here.”
“How did he have the foresight to save half his flight?” asked Alexstrasza. “Not unless
someone told him...someone who knew about what would happen...” She turned away from
Kalecgos, her brow furrowed and she wagged her head. “Unless Krasus...” She wagged her head
again. “No he couldn’t have. He was with Malfurion. So who did?”
“Alexstrasza?” began Kalecgos. “What’s wrong?”
“Kalec,” she began. “There is something I need to tell you.
Krasus, my love
Korialstrasz–went back ten thousand years into the past by accent.”
“He traveled back in time?” asked Kalecgos, his blue, pointed ears twitching with shock.
His purple glowing eyes lit up with shock and his blue crystals flickered.
“Yes,” she replied. “It was a few years after the Third War ended, but before the
reopening of the Dark Portal.”
“I never knew,” said Kalecgos.
“You...originally weren’t supposed to know,” said Alexstrasza. “But I suppose since you
are the Aspect of Magic now, you need to know. But what you mentioned, if Malygos hadn’t
sent a few away, you wouldn’t have been born...you wouldn’t have been here to take Malygos’
place after he died. Krasus died before you were chosen as the new Aspect of Magic.” She
huffed. “That seems...odd...”
“Did Krasus warn Malygos of Deathwing’s treachery?” asked Kalecgos.
“Even Krasus would know better,” said Alexstrasza. “Though he did save a few eggs.”
She huffed again. “He would have nothing to gain personally to do that. But...”
“Neltharion would,” said Kalecgos. “His consciousness.”
They swung their heads to the sound of laughter behind them. There coming out from a
low light of a glowing portal were two enormous dragons, one black and one bronze.
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Nozdormu and Neltharion.
Neltharion looked a little disheveled, his braided bear coming apart, his hair in a mess.
He looked as if he had not bathed in a month, the the sulfuric smell most prominent. But most
importantly, Neltharion was twice the size he was before he went through the time portal, with
newly formed rips in his scales indicating he had used the Dragon Soul. Neltharion slowly
lumbered to Alexstrasza and her eyes widened with relief. She reared back and opened her
forelegs to the enormous black dragon. She leaned up, giving him a long awaited hug.
“Oh...” she said. “Neltharion, welcome home!”
“Thank you,” he rumbled.
“Jussst in time,” said Nozdormu with a grin. He readjusted the scarf around his neck.
“Thank you for bringing him back,” said Alexstrasza. Then, she slapped Neltharion on
the shoulder. “Don’t ever do that again!”
“Oh?” asked Nozdormu. “He wassss meant to do just as he did.” he turned to Kalecgos.
“The one who told Malygosss was Neltharion–our Neltharion. And all is as it should be when he
left.”
The Time Lord winked at his sister.
“Neltharion saved half of Malygos’ flight...” said Kalecgos.
Alexstrasza parted slightly from Neltharion as the Black Dragon nodded.
“I saved his flight so you would be born, Kalecgos,” said Neltharion.
“And here I thought you wanted Malygos back...”
“I do,” he replied. “But what I want isn’t what’s best for Azeroth.”
Alexstrasza leaned back to kiss her brother on the cheek sweetly...as a sister would. She
nuzzled his chest, purring deeply. As she cuddled him, she breathed a red mist from her nostrils.
Neltharion breathed deeply as the mist seeped deep into his rips. Slowly, they began to close up
tightly, disappearing to barely noticeable scars upon his body. Then, she snorted in disgust and
pushed him away.
“Blech!” she called. “You smell horrible, brother. Go take a bath!”
“I don’t smell that bad,” he said. Neltharion sniffed at his shoulder.
“Yes you do!” she called. “Go take a bath!”
“You sound like Queen Azshara,” said Neltharion. “And I hated meeting her.”
“I don’t want to hear it,” said Alexstrasza. “Go! Take a bath, brush your hair. I want the
grime of that war off of you. Besides, you do want to look good for Calia, right?”
Neltharion’s green eyes lit up and a smile spread across his face.
“Cali is alright?” he asked.
“Of course she’s fine,” said Alexstrasza.
“She is as you left her,” said Nozdormu. “Your actionsss did not change what happened
in the Second War.”
He sighed with relief: “Oh, thank goodness.”
Alexstrasza laughed as she watched her brother fly back towards Wyrmrest. Then, she
sighed.
“At least whatever he did back then did not change much,” said Kalecgos.
“Some thingsss have been changed, but the more recent history has not,” said Nozdormu.
“And for now, that is what’s important. Everyone that was meant to be born was born.”
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“Well, I better make sure the Earth-Warder doesn’t get into more trouble...” said
Kalecgos. He dipped his head to Nozdormu and flew off. For a moment, Alexstrasza was silent,
thinking of all that happened so long ago, meeting a redeemed Neltharion after ten thousand
years. And now, here he was again, returning home from almost making sure such things as the
Demon Soul was never created. But her thoughts were not on that, rather, her feelings for him.
She acted upon the feelings that she felt burning inside of her for so long and it almost drove him
away again.
“I can’t believe I told him–this Neltharion–my true feelings for him,” she said. “And tried
to...I wanted to share the love I had for him maybe bring out the love he had for me, if he ever
had any. The memory is still fresh, and even bitter when I see how much he loves Calia. Krasus
though helped me forget that for a while, but when he died and I got Neltharion back...I thought
maybe...just...that’s why I’ve been so controlling of him.” She shook her head. “I should
have...I...should have told his past self instead.”
“Would it have made a difference?” Nozdormu asked.
“I don’t know,” said Alexstrasza. “Maybe. I always thought we were made for each
other. I...suppose I was wrong.”
“You were made to guard life,” said Nozdormu. “And he wassss made to guard the
planet. That does not mean...fornication between each other.”
“Doesn’t mean we can’t...” said Alexstrasza. “Is it right? We call each other brothers and
sisters because we were made from the flesh of Galakrond, but are we really brothers and
sisters?”
“I like to think we are,” said Nozdormu. “And sssso does Neltharion.”
Alexstrasza’s lowered her head and then sniffed with a nod.
As the clouds began to clear and the sun shined again. Neltharion had gone to a mineral
hot spring near the active volcano at the Black Dragonshrine, dipping in for his bath. Alexstrasza
along with a few of Neltharion’s own flight came down to help him clean the dirt and grime off.
All sort of muddy soot and black dirt fell from his scales and filled the surface of the spring. The
Black Dragon flapped his wings, slinging the water all around him. They repaired and shined his
elementium plates back to their radiant splendor. Alexstrasza, in her elven form, brushed and
then braided up his beard, after giving it a slight trim. It had gotten a bit longer and wilder since
he had disappeared. Though only a few minutes had passed since Neltharion disappeared and
then returned from his trip, in reality, he was gone for well over a month. Though he had filled
out since then, she basically restored his look before he left. Once more, Neltharion faced the
issue with Siderion’s sister Nameria and once more he stated that he would have to consort with
Calia about it. Once he had finished with his time in Wyrmrest and gotten the call from Calia
that she was returning to Theramore within the week, Neltharion said his goodbyes to the other
Aspects. Neltharion was glad to finally be going home after spending nearly one month back in
the past, and then the second month talking about the future of his flight (or playing Scrabble
with Kalec.) However, there was one thing he had to wrap up with his sister.
She sat at the edge of the temple, wearing a lovely red gown. Neltharion walked slowly
up to her, settling his hefty body down beside her. Alexstrasza leaned upon his foreleg.
“I always thought you acted the way you did because you were being...motherly...” said
Neltharion. “You worried about me because of what I became...”
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“I didn’t want to loose you again,” said Alexstrasza.
“Krasus said that you took the betrayal harder than the others,” said Neltharion. “Because
of what you felt for me. And you...told me...”
“I remember what I said to you...and you only...not the creature that was my brother...or
the one I truly loved ten thousand years ago,” she said, lifting her head from him. She placed a
soft hand upon his scales. “I love you more than anything in this world...before Krasus...”
“You loved Krasus.”
“I loved Krasus,” she said. “But then...you took him away from me.”
Neltharion closed his eyes.
“How cruel was I to think maybe I was grateful that you did...” said Alexstrasza. “To
think that when I got you back, I could maybe try again. But then you flew off and when you
saw that...human...falling in love with her...all over again. And I felt you were taken from me
again. I will never have you.”
Neltharion rumbled deeply: “Would you have wanted me so much if you had found out
that as Deathwing, I would have taken you and Ysera as nothing more than breading slaves.
Forever more to fill with my seed, produce eggs for me...raped like my other mates...until I had
no further use for you.”
She withdrew from him, her golden eyes wet as she looked over the cold wastes.
Alexstrasza shivered, holding herself as if the warmth she felt was stolen. The Black Dragon
extended his wing to her and gathered her up in it. The warmth slowly returned to her and she
leaned in, caressing his muscular foreleg. She buried her head in his scales, feeling the muscle
ripple underneath.
“I hated Deathwing so much...” she said, her voice beginning to break into a sob. “I hated
what he did when I found out what he really was. When I fell in love with Krasus, it was
because he reminded me of you, he tried to be just like you. And I allowed myself to forget
about my love for you because all I saw was Deathwing. You were buried so deep I could no
longer see you...only him.” Alexstrasza raised a manicured hand up to his beard, combing her
fingers through it. “Then Krasus died and you were brought back. I had you again. Life and
Earth, we would have been...” Her tears splashed upon his scales. “My mind can let you go, but
my heart cannot.”
Neltharion turned to her and took her into his forelegs. He brushed her red hair.
“Don’t ache for whatever feelings you had,” he rumbled. “I promised Krasus I would
take good care of you.” He nuzzled his snout against her cheek. “Oh, Alex. I can’t stand to see
you in pain again because of me...” Neltharion purred slightly. “How can I help you to let me go
so that no stress would come between us again?”
“Allow me...just one moment with you,” replied Alexstrasza, whispering.
“I am...”
“Spoken for...now...I know,” she said. “I know you would never betray her...”
Neltharion took in a deep breath and then peered down into her eyes: “I will allow...one
kiss.”
She rose up to his head and their lips parted, locking together. Neltharion allowed his
inhibitions go and gave into the kiss. He leaned Alexstrasza down upon her back, caressing her
skin with an ebony black talon. In his mind, he kept imagining it was Calia he was kissing and
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not the Life Queen. She did not taste like Calia, but he shut his mind off from that. Her arms
were around his neck and she drank thirstily from his lips, glorifying that he was kissing her the
way she wanted him to kiss her. Her body relaxed, falling to his touch. He parted from her lips
and lightly pecked at the nape of her neck. Neltharion’s eyes locked upon Alexstrasza’s.
“Now...let me go...” he whispered. “Let me go.”
“Go...” said Alexstrasza as she leaned up. “Go to her. Love her, lover as much as I love
you.”
Neltharion returned to his true size, kicking off from Wyrmrest and flying away.
Alexstrasza watched as his enormous dark form disappeared in the frosty sky, heading east.
Once more, she felt cold again and she wrapped herself up.
§§§
Before Neltharion left Northrend, there was one more thing he had to do. As promised,
he visited Dalarand and went to see Rhonin. The Archmage was looking up his office for the
evening just as the Earth-Warder tapped him on the shoulder with a broad smile upon his face.
Rhonin turned around, startled for a moment and then when he saw the dragon, laughed.
“Neltharion!” he called. “Scared me.”
“Sorry,” said Neltharion.
Rhonin ushered him out to the sidewalk. All around them there were mages walking to
and fro, going to their apartments or running errands. Several mages dipped thier heads in
greeting to the Archmage and his important guest.
“Greetings, Archmage, Earth-Warder,” they heard the patrons say as they walked down
the cobblestone walkway.
“I suspect why you are here because you just got back...Prestor,” said Rhonin.
“About a few days ago,” said Neltharion. “And as I promised, where do you want to go
first?”
“Deathwing offering me a drink,” said Rhonin. “How can I refuse?”
“I’m not holding you up, am I?” asked Neltharion. “I can just reschedule.”
“No,” said Rhonin. “They won’t be expecting me until later on.”
“Good,” said the dragon.
He showed Neltharion to a fancy pub at the upper part of Dalarand. The pub had a great
view of Crystalsong Forest, the radiant purple glow of the crystalline trees bathed the pub in a
hue of deep purple. Arcane energies fluctuated through the glowing crystal leaves, leaping from
leaf to leaf in a brilliant, blue fiery display. Neltharion grinned as he leaned over to one of the
windows to look out among the forest. Even around the pub, there were potted plants from the
forest, their glow adding to the ambient, eerie light. Rhonin sat down at a table and Neltharion
settled upon his haunches on the opposite side. He reared up and rested his forelegs on the table.
The serving wench walked over, she was a Blood Elf.
“Can I get the Archmage and the Earth-Warder anything?” she asked.
“Meade,” said Rhonin. “And he’s buying.”
“Meade?” asked Neltharion. “Naw...too light. Tonight, you and I are dining on absinthe!”
“Absinthe?” asked Rhonin. “Dear Light...no. That stuff makes me see pink orcs.”
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“I told you, I’m buying and we’re going to get plenty drunk tonight,” said Neltharion. He
chuckled deeply. “I bet I can out drink you, mage.”
“That’s not much of a bet because I know you can!” said Rhonin. “You’re a dragon, of
course you can.”
The elf came back with the famous, strong, alcoholic, green liquid, each glass holding a
decorative spoon and sugar cubes. Neltharion poured himself and Rhonin the water on top of the
cubes and dropped them in. They stirred gently and then clanked their glasses together.
“To your health, Rhonin,” said Neltharion.
“And to yours as well,” said Rhonin. “And to your great girth too.”
Neltharion laughed broadly, puffing his huge chest out.
“I’m probably the only dragon in the world that gets fat!” he said. “And Calia wouldn’t
have me any other way.”
“She likes fat dragons?”
“She likes fat Earth-Warders,” said Neltharion.
Rhonin broke into a chuckle as he downed his drink. Neltharion drank his as well. They
poured more, drinking away and laughing and joking as if they were to really good and old
friends.
“I still have that scale you gave me all those years ago,” said Rhonin.
“The one you used to destroy the Demon Soul?” asked Neltharion.
“Aye, that,” said Rhonin. “Hanging it up on my wall. Do you want it back?”
“I don’t need it back,” said Neltharion in a laugh. He spread his forelegs. “I got plenty.”
He laid a forearm upon the table. “You need another one?”
Rhonin laughed: “No.”
Once more, the pub was filled with the laughter of Rhonin and Neltharion. Rhonin was
beginning to feel swimmy. He leaned back and forth, giggling loudly. Neltharion was still
holding strong as he took another drink of his glass. He was not even going to feel light headed
for a while. But he could not stop laughing. Rhonin told stories of Krasus and what it was like
to work for him. During the time of the Second War, Krasus and may of the Red Dragons were
in hiding while Alexstrasza and her consort Tyranastrasz were being used as breading slaves for
the Old Horde. With the Demon Soul, they could keep the two dragons weak and helpless.
Krasus was hiding from both the Horde and Deathwing so that he could save his love and queen.
Rhonin was tricked by Deathwing, saying he wanted to save his dear sister, but in reality, he
wanted to take her for himself and steal her eggs to be turned into Chromatic Dragons. But
Rhonin was able to use the scale Deathwing provided him as a means for two way
communication to destroy the disk.
“Tell me,” Rhonin said, swallowing. His head dipped forward. “Since Deathwing and
you were two minds in the same body, did you suggest to give me that scale in some hopes I
would use it to destroy the disk?”
“Unfortunately, Deathwing had me locked up tightly,” said Neltharion. “I didn’t know in
the off chance that you would use it in that way. However, I cheered when you did.” He wiped
his mouth after another drink. “Oh how he punished me after I cheered for his defeat. I was his
whipping boy all the way to Deepholm.” He sighed and shook his head. “The only thing I could
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do was cheer. But I knew our days were limited. I hoped for it, I prayed for death. The only
thing I regretted was that I would not be given the chance to undo his evil.”
Rhonin swallowed his drink: “You were given a chance now.”
“And I thank everyday that I am given, Rhonin,” he said, smiling softly.
“You know,” began the mage. “Krasus gave me a message to you, knowing that he won’t
see you...ever again.”
Neltharion leaned in, his eyes becoming downcast. He cleared his throat and his tail
thumped the ground.
“What did he say?” asked the Black Dragon.
“He said he wished he could have lived long enough to have been your friend,” the mage
replied. “He said that he knows that when he leaves this world, he would be leaving it in good
hands.”
Neltharion shifted and sniffed. For a while he was silent, though is mind was becoming
clouded by the absinthe, he began his dee thought. Rhonin waited for the Earth-Warder to say
something, seeing the dart of his eyes as he thought. He heard the soft rumble of the dragon’s
breath, inhaling and exhaling. Then, the Earth-Warder blinked slowly and smiled.
“Thank you,” he said deeply.
On through the early night, they drank until Rhonin nearly passed out. Neltharion paid
the tab and tossed the mage upon his shoulder, wobbling himself out. Both in their drunken
stupor, they started singing in horrible loudly off-key old tunes they knew from the wars. Both
were richly smelling like liquor, both having rather stupid smiles on their faces. Rhonin, as best
as he could, showed Neltharion where he lived, though a few times they stumbled upon a dead
end or basically upon themselves. But, they stumbled on and finally Rhonin had been brought
home by a rather drunk Earth-Warder. Opening the door was Vareesa Windrunner, the sister to
Sylvanas, the Banshee Queen, the current ruler of Lordaeron. The High Elf allowed the two to
fumble in and Neltharion unloaded his drinking partner upon the couch.
“I had fun...” Rhonin said. “V–Vareesa...this is...Neltharion...the Earth-Warder.
Or...Deathwing the Destroyer...whatever...”
He giggled drunkenly.
“Hello,” she said. “I’ve heard...so much about you. Thank you for bringing my husband
home...but...drunk...”
“It’s...my fault...I told him I’d take him out for a drink...” said Neltharion. “Don’t
worry...we didn’t get into any trouble.”
“No, we didn’t,” said Rhonin. “Vareesa, he’s Arthas’ brother-in-law! Can you...believe
it? And his...his wife is still alive. Calia Menethil...still alive!” He rose up. “I remember what
you said...when...when we were...well...back then. Deathwing and Arthas!”
“Why...why are you saying this now?” asked Neltharion.
“Because I’m drunk out of my mind!” said Rhonin. “And my wife...is the sister to
Sylvanas.”
“You’re Sylvanas’ sister?” asked Neltharion, his mind becoming a little clearer.
“And you’re Arthas’ brother-in-law!” said Rhonin, laughing. “The Lich King, you’re his
brother.”
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“That’s enough, Rhonin,” said Vereesa. She turned to Neltharion. “Calia Menethil is still
alive?”
“If you ever have any contact with your sister,” began Neltharion. “Don’t tell her that.”
He cleared his throat. “Rhonin, you are a horrible drunk.” He backed out of the door.
“I’m...going to go find some bench and...pass out for a few hours before I fly home...or if there is
a flight back to Theramore...”
“There is an airship,” said Vereesa.
“I’ll pass out on that then,” he said. “Nice meeting you.”
His head swung over to the drunken mage. Rhonin giggled loudly, waving his hands in
the air as if he was casting some spell, but all he managed was a fizzle. He cackled again. The
Black Dragon shook his head, deeply sighing at the mess he made of the mage.
“Rhonin, take care,” said Neltharion.
Already, the mage was out like a light.
Neltharion stumbled upon the airship to Theramore and dropped the pilot a few gold
coins. He found a bed upon the airship and fell unconscious just as it took off. Rarely he would
use human transportation back home, but right now, he did not feel much like flying. It would be
a long flight back home and he was going to sleep all the way.
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Epilogue
HE WAS THERE TO GREET her as her boat sailed in on Menethil Harbor. Neltharion
watched as Calia leapt down from boarding plank and rushed towards him, her arms open wide.
He gathered her up, holding her close, and they pressed their lips together in a long, passionate
kiss. There she was, as she always has been, the brunette girl with the striking sea-blue eyes he
fell in love with nearly 20 years ago during the Second War. His wife. Calia Menethil-Hastings
Prestor. The lost Princess of Lordaeron turned assassin. She had not changed a bit since his little
trip through time. She was dressed in her usual leather armor, her pistols and daggers hung from
her belt and clanked each time she reached to feel his neck. Neltharion rumbled, kissing along
her neck. Calia laughed, holding his head to her.
“This is a surprise!” she said as he parted. “You act as if you haven’t seen me in ages.”
“I haven’t,” said Neltharion and he kissed her lips again.
“I haven’t been gone but a month,” she said. “You miss me that much?”
“Everyday that you’re gone, I miss you, Cali,” Neltharion said in a deep rumble. He
helped her up and they started for their residence, a longhouse down on the beach. He always
loved the beach, ever since he first pleasant dreams after being nothing more than some puppet
by the Old Gods, he loved beaches. And they took a long walk along the beach. He extended his
wing around her, pulling her close.
“Now, I know you weren’t lonely, Nel,” said Calia. “You went to see the other Aspects in
Wyrmrest. They wanted to talk to you about something...”
“Uh...yes,” said Neltharion. He would not dare tell her where he really went. “It was
about a secondary consort to help me replenish my flight. Alexstrasza found one for me.”
“She did,” said Calia. “Well, is this...girl...pretty?”
“She’s Siderion’s sister,” said Neltharion. “She doesn’t look all that bad...for a dragon, I
mean.”
“Honey, I’m not going to get jealous because you need to mate with one of your own
kind,” she began, placing a hand along his black neck. “I understand. I can’t give you want
you...biologically need. You need hatchlings, Neltharion. Your flight needs hatchlings.”
“I know,” said Neltharion. “But...Calia...your culture...your people...look down
on...adultery.”
“It’s not adultery when I approve of it,” said Calia. “You’re not going behind my back to
fuck some back-alley Sally.
This is Siderion’s sister, if she offers herself to be your
broodmother, then take it. I want her to give you as many hatchlings as you need. I just hope
they would call me Aunt Cali when they’re born.”
“They will see you as family,” said Neltharion. “Don’t worry.” He leaned over to brush
his chin against her head. He took a sniff of her hair and then kissed it. “All hatchlings are born
with genetic the memory from their father.”
“I’m glad it’s Sid’s sister you’re going to mate with,” said Calia. “Sid is a sweet person. I
can’t wait to meet his sister. I’m sure she’s just as sweet as he is.”
“She’s shy,” said Neltharion.
“Well, you probably scare the daylights out of her, you big, hulking brute!” Calia
laughed. She gave a playful slap to his chest. “And have you gotten fatter?”
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“Uh...well...”
“You did!” she gasped. “You gained weight. Nel! Honey...”
Neltharion flushed and turned away: “I thought you like me fat...”
“I do like you chubby, but I don’t want my husband morbidly obese!” she said. Calia
raised up to comb her fingers through his soft beard. She tugged on one of the feathers tied in
his beard. “You need to watch the weight. Did you just sit around Wyrmrest eating cupcakes or
something?”
“Something like that,” said Neltharion, with a cheeky grin.
“Honey, you know you rip out of your scales when you gain more weight,” said Calia. “I
can’t afford finding more and more elementium to bolt on you when you decide to gain a few
tons.”
“I’ll watch my weight next time,” said Neltharion. “Trust me, I’m not going to get any
bigger than I am.” Of course I won’t. There is no more Dragon Soul. And good riddens to it.
He once more gathered her up into his forelegs and kissed her. Neltharion leaned his
wife down gently upon the sand, kissing and caressing her. He grazed his scaly lips under her
chin and she laughed as his beard tickled her.
“I’ve missed you so much, Cali,” he purred. “I’m so glad you’re home.”
“I’ve missed you too,” she said. “You big puppy dog.” Then, Calia whispered something
softly into his ear hole. Neltharion’s green eyes lit up and swallowed, helping her up slowly. He
embraced her again, kissing her on her forehead. He did not know what to say about the news he
heard from her, but his expression told her everything. He cupped her face with his paws, her
skin looking stark white against the black scales. He sat her in his lap, resting her upon a great
thigh and his wings draped over the sand behind him like a great, billowing tattered cloak.
“I thought that I’ve damaged you so much that...it wouldn’t be possible,” he said, tears
falling down his face. “Would...it be like the other one? Would it look...monstrous?”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “I only told you what Arthas told me after he killed it. But
this time, there is no brother I have will kill this one. And you aren’t the evil monster that
Deathwing was. It might turn out different.”
“I hope it has your looks,” said Neltharion. “And your brown hair that shines like gold in
the sun.”
“And your eyes,” said Calia, leaning up to kiss both of his cheeks. “And maybe your
tail.”
“Well, if the Draenei can wear pants with their tails...” said Neltharion. “Boy or girl?”
“Too early,” she said.
“I want it to be a girl.”
“Why?”
Neltharion held her close: “I’ve had too many sons that live on and one daughter...one
that died. I want a daughter.” He looked down at her. “And name her Lianne.”
“That’s my mother’s name,” said Calia. “And doesn’t sound very ‘black dragon’-ish.”
“I don’t want her to be a black dragon,” he said. “I want her to be like you.” He grinned.
“I want to know what it’s like to raise a child like your kind does. I’ve raised black dragons, they
don’t need much raising. They know what to do when they hatch from their shells. Like little
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adults. A human baby does not. Something new after living a life of redundancy...or evil. I’ll
come home to smiles, bright happy smiles.” He sighed. “A happy future.”
Calia laughed: “Did something happen while you were at Wyrmrest?” She tilted her
head. “Something you need to talk about?”
“Something,” he said. “But, nothing to worry about.”
Then, Calia’s hands fell from Neltharion’s neck. She had told him the good news, but
then, there was something else, something bad to tell him as well. Neltharion’s head cocked
sideways as he looked into his wife’s growing concerned face. He began to comb his talons
through her hair.
“Cali?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
“I was hoping to tell you the good news so that I may tell you some bad news,” she
began. “To soften the blow, perhaps.”
Neltharion lowered his claws to the sides of her arms brushing them gently.
“On my business trip, if you would call it that,” she began. “I met a dragon.”
“I hope my dear Cali isn’t going behind my back...” he chuckled. “With some back-alley
dragon...”
“No,” she said. “No. It was apart of my assignment. I was investigating a stolen egg
from the Red Dragonflight. The reds from Vermilion Redoubt, they personally contacted my
superior and asked for me. I thought it was just a red dragon egg, but it turned out to be a black
dragon’s egg. But not just any, it was the one the Red Dragons managed to purify with a Titan
artifact.”
“That one...” Neltharion rumbled. “Yes, I know about that one. It was stolen?”
“By rogues working for black dragons,” she replied. “I don’t think word reached
Alexstrasza, so she probably didn’t tell you.”
“No,” he said. “She didn’t. Okay, what happened?”
“It hatched,” Calia replied. “Into a teenage looking, dark skinned human named
Wrathion. Or rather that’s his disguise. He calls you father.”
“Father?” asked Neltharion. “The dragon who birthed that egg was not one of my
consorts. Only Sintharia survived...and because of that Deathwing mated with her often to
produce more and more eggs.”
“I know,” she said. “I suppose it’s a dragon thing...”
“Not normally,” said Neltharion. “If the egg did not come directly from my sperm, the
dragon born from it normally calls me lord...not father.”
“I’m...questioning about it too,” she replied. “I had to go hunt down some black dragons
for this...whelpling. The bad ones, I assure you.” Calia brushed her hand through her hair,
pulling her bangs back away from her eyes. “When the job was done, he then called me by what
I am to your flight...saying he knew I was your Prime Consort. That’s when he informed me
about...my pregnancy. I didn’t believe him at first and went to a doctor to check up about it.
Though I will say I have been getting morning sickness lately. Thought I ate a bad piece of meat.
No, it’s real. He sensed it. It kinda felt dirty that he was able to sense that.” She hugged herself,
shivering. “Like my privacy’s just been violated.”
“I’m going to teach this upstart a lesson then,” said Neltharion. “No one pries at my
wife’s body without her permission!”
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“No, Nel!” Calia said, placing a hand on his chest, calming her husband down. “No, it’s
alright. I did want to kick him for it. But I was more happy that we could try to be parents
again...this time official...unlike last time.” She sighed, leaning back. “He did give me this
message. He says to tell you that he is watching you. And don’t get in his way.”
“Why would he order that of his own damned Aspect?” Neltharion asked. “I’m his leader,
he can’t order me around like that.”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “It’s nothing...bad, Nel. He’s not out to destroy the world.
But from what I got, he wants to be free of both flights, red and black. And he knows that right
now, Alexstrasza kinda has her thumb on you.”
“Alexstrasza...” Neltharion sighed. Unfortunately, I found why too...oh, if Calia found out
she’d shoot me right here. I’d be dead and made into new pairs of boots. He blinked and
snorted out a cloud of black smoke. “I’m not gonna let this Wrathion brat get me down. He
better watch his own back and do what he can not to cross me.” Neltharion growled. “Has any
black dragons joined him?”
“A few, but he killed them,” said Calia. “Because they were still under the influence of
the Old Gods. He suspected that they would soon turn on him and had them all killed before
they did. And believe me, they were going to.” She sniffed. “He left Ravenholt afterwards. I
don’t know where he went. He said perhaps it’s just best for you to worry about raising your
half-dragon child than to go off finding him.”
“Well, I’ll let this Wrathion kid go for now,” he rumbled deeply. “So I can focus on
helping you raise our child. But if I ever see this kid for myself, I am going to give him the
fatherly beating he deserves for just insulting me.”
He gathered his wife into his forelegs again, holding her against his chest. Neltharion
purred deeply, looking out towards the east. There on the horizon were swirling clouds of a
gigantic hurricane, but one that would never move from its spot. Forever more, until the end of
time, that hurricane would continue spinning around a central spot, the Maelstrom. Neltharion
found himself smiling at it for the first time in years. Everything was as it should always be.
Though some things felt different to him, they went unnoticed by his wife, who smiled sweetly
as she relaxed in her husband’s strong, muscular forelimbs. The Black Dragon spread his wings
and wrapped them around them both, laying his head upon her crown.
He left the past as the past because despite all that Deathwing caused, there was a
brighter future from it.
But still one dark cloud hung off somewhere in the horizon.
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