His first conscious thought was a desire for the pain to end. He had not had time to formulate a sense of self, to guess where or what he was, or to wonder why he found himself in such misery. There was only blinding, searing pain, as if parts of his very being were being ripped and twisted apart.
Although he had only just become aware, he wanted to lose consciousness again-but the opposite was happening. As the pain built to a crescendo, all his senses grew sharper, and the world seemed to expand.
He had a body-four limbs, two wings, one head, one tail-and was curled up in a ball. He tried to move but could barely stretch out without being blocked in all directions by something hard.
Whatever was causing the overwhelming pain ceased, but echoes of agony reverberated through him. At first the only sound was the thudding of his panicked heart in his chest. Then, a muffled voice from somewhere beyond the walls...
"Viable subject compiled. No anomalies detected."
He understood every word, a fact which he somehow knew was remarkable.
"User-objective protocol complete. Stasis protocol re-enabled."
The voice wasn't speaking to him. That meant there were other beings around.
He opened his eyes but saw only diffuse light.
"D... did you see that? Incredible!" came a squeaky voice that was different from the one before. "My Titan thing idea worked! With your help, of course."
So there were two others out there.
"We'll want to get these back to Rhea. She's not at Lethlor Ravine any more; it sounds like she blew her cover pretty well when she transformed into her true form in front of all those whelps. She's now in the west, staying at an Alliance camp called Dragon's Mouth. She'll be waiting for you. And that egg."
A sudden flash of awareness made him realize that he was "that egg." Or, at least, that's what he found himself inside.
As the pain ebbed his thinking grew clearer. Yes, of course. He was a dragon. One of the black flight. He was still in his egg. That's why he couldn't move or see.
He felt a sense of movement, but cushioned by the yolk he felt no discomfort as he was jostled back and forth. Whoever the voices outside belonged to must be taking him to Rhea-whoever that was-at this camp called Dragon's Mouth-wherever that was.
In his current situation all he could do was think, so he tried to sort out what he knew. He found his memory contained a staggering amount of information about the world of Azeroth and the designs of the Titans who shaped it. It was all there: Eonar, Khaz'goroth, Norgannon, Aman'thul and the others. The Burning Legion. The Old Gods. Uldaman, Ulduar and Uldum. The Aspects.
Yet, sifting through the enormous amounts of knowledge in his mind, the tiny dragon was dismayed to find important things missing: his parents, his name, his siblings, his location. Who was he? Where was he? How old was he, and why did he have no memory of anything before this painful awakening? Why was he being taken to another place by these non-draconic beings? Were they the ones who had caused that intense agony? What was going on?
Panic welled up in his throat but he could make no sound of protest. He was utterly at the mercy of the person carrying his egg.
As time passed, the gentle rocking of travel dulled his anxiety, and he found himself escaping the only way he could: sleep.
The movement stopped, waking the baby dragon. A new, female voice reached him through the eggshell. "I'll take that egg out of your hands now."
He felt himself being handed from one person to another, and realized that he had reached his destination. The voice presumably belonged to that "Rhea" person.
"We need to get this egg incubated...and hidden, quickly. There are lots of angry dragons looking for this," she said.
Angry dragons... His family? Were his parents looking for him?
Rhea was still speaking to the person who had borne his egg. "It's good to see you again, by the way."
He tried to push outward with his mind to sense something, anything about his surroundings. It was a muddled whirl of energy, but after a moment of straining he managed to identify the individual holding his egg. Rhea was a red dragon.
Red, not black. So did that make her an enemy, or a friend?
An overload of information came crashing out of his brain, everything about the red flight's original mission, their Aspect, their customs... He scrunched his eyes even more tightly shut, trying to pluck out the pertinent information from the deluge. The red and black flights had been allies, once. He got the impression that had changed, but before he could sort out the details he heard Rhea say something else significant.
"In my haste to escape from Lethlor Ravine, I forgot to tie up one loose end: Nyxondra. She's free, and she's sounded the alarm among the black dragonflight. Half the flight is here in the western Badlands, combing for this egg."
So it was his own flight who was searching for him. And he was in the western Badlands. He briefly wondered exactly where that was, but his mind unleashed a torrent of geographical detail that seemed to contradict itself.
Regardless, if his own flight was trying to find him, and Rhea was trying to hide him, that meant the reds were an enemy. This realization made panic blossom anew, and he squirmed slightly.
"I'll take care of hiding the egg," Rhea said. "You're going to take care of some of the more troublesome dragons."
Rhea's accomplice departed after receiving instructions to meet with some dwarves, and after a minute of silence the newborn dragon felt a strange sinking, floating sensation that he quickly realized meant he was flying. Or, rather, Rhea was, and bringing his egg along.
"Hello, little one," she said, her voice softer and more gentle than it had been when speaking to her mortal assistant. "I'm so sorry to put you through all this. I'm sure you're confused and frightened."
He most certainly was both of those things, but he had no way to communicate with her.
"Know this much: I'm trying to give your dragonflight a future. I don't know what kind of knowledge the Titan artifact implanted in your mind, but the black flight is nearly extinct, and those who remain are corrupted by the Old Gods."
A chill ran through his curled body.
"But you, dear baby," she said, patting his eggshell, "are different. You are purified. You are free from the taint of the Old Gods, just as the first black dragons were in ancient times. You have a great destiny ahead of you. Azeroth needs you."
The whelpling trembled. A great destiny? How was that possible, when he couldn't even stretch his limbs without hitting eggshell? Surely no one expected anything significant from him. He was just a baby!
"My flight will take care of you and protect you. I promise."
She sounded so earnest that he found himself believing her. Or perhaps he just wanted to be comforted so badly that he was throwing logic away to blindly accept what she said. Either way, the warm, draconic energy that radiated through his shell was calming.
He once more found himself surrendering to sleep, lulled by the regular flap of Rhea's wings.
The whelpling had no real sense of time, but it didn't seem like all that long before he awoke to yet another strange voice.
"Is that it? You really got one?"
"Yes," came Rhea's voice.
Stirring back to full consciousness, the whelp realized he was no longer moving. He sensed that the new voice belonged to another female red dragon.
"And it's really uncorrupted?"
"Absolutely. We uncovered a Titan artifact that took several eggs and whelps and distilled them to their original essence, making one new egg out of them."
What? He was some unnatural abomination cobbled together from multiple whelps? He suddenly felt sick. Was that why he didn't remember anything prior to that horrible episode of pain? No, it couldn't be. The red dragonflight was dedicated to protecting and nurturing life. Surely they would never resort to such unnatural measures!
The stranger made a disapproving noise. "It's a nasty business. Honestly, I'm shocked the Dragonqueen allowed you to proceed with this crazy scheme. How is your treatment of Nyxondra different from what the orcs did to the Life Binder in Grim Batol?"
"Desperate times call for desperate measures, Corastrasza," Rhea said. "I don't like it, either. Still, it really is for the greater good of Azeroth. The black dragonflight must survive."
Corastrasza snorted. "I obey my queen. She told me to bring this egg safely to the Vermillion Redoubt, and so I shall. But the entire affair leaves a bad taste in my mouth."
"I understand. And thank you," Rhea said. "Be sure to keep it warm. The blacks incubate at higher temperatures than our flight."
"I know," Cora said impatiently.
There was a pause, and Rhea's voice came to him from just outside his shell, soft and affectionate. "Good-bye, little one. I'm so sorry your life had to start like this, but I know you will accomplish great things someday. The world needs you. Be strong. Be happy. Be safe."
His egg tipped and shook as the other dragon picked him up. "When can we expect you back at the Redoubt?"
Silence.
"Rhea?"
"I doubt that we will see each other again," she said quietly. "I will do whatever it takes to keep Deathwing from getting his claws on that egg. If my plan works you will have nothing to worry about."
"What are you...?"
"Trust me."
"Rhea-" Cora started in a scolding tone.
"That egg is more important than you or me, or any of my own children. If the Aspect of Death believes he has destroyed the egg, he will no longer search for it."
"You're not saying-"
"I do what I must for the greater good."
After a few moments, Corastrasza spoke again, her voice subdued. "As do we all. Your sacrifice will not be forgotten."
"Thank you. Now go, before the blacks spot you."
Again there came the pull against gravity, and he found himself airborne again, presumably in Corastrasza's grasp.
The whelpling's mind was awhirl. Was he really that important, that a fully-grown red wyrm would lay down her life to protect him? In his brief life, Rheastrasza was the only one who had spoken kindly to him, or even spoken directly to him at all. He already found himself missing her.
And who was this "Aspect of Death" she mentioned? The Aspect of the black dragonflight was Neltharion the Earth Warder, and none of the leaders of the other flights were the sort to earn that dread title. Unless something significant had changed...
The whelpling scrunched his eyes closed and tried to think as hard as he could. The Titan artifact had downloaded an enormous amount of information into his brain, but there were gaps where he got the impression that things had changed and the device had simply omitted certain details rather than give him incorrect information.
The Aspects... The Old Gods... There was a connection there. One had done something significant to the other. But what?
"You'd better be worth all this fuss," Corastrasza's voice interrupted his concentration. "Although I don't know what the Life Binder expects one whelp to do. You may be uncorrupted now, but when you hatch the Old Gods will start to chip away at your sanity until you end up no better than the Earth Warder did. Then again, you'll be a lot easier to put down than Deathwing..."
No, no, no! His life had just started! It couldn't end so soon!
Wait. What did she say about the Earth Warder? The pieces finally clicked into place. Deathwing, the Aspect of Death, and Neltharion the Earth Warder were all the same dragon. The black flight's Aspect had been corrupted by the Old Gods. Azeroth needed a new guardian. In its quest to preserve life, the red flight would certainly want the planet stable and defended, and without an Earth Warder...
The whelpling twitched. They expected him to protect an entire planet? He hadn't even hatched yet! How could he possibly take on that kind of responsibility? And he wasn't an Aspect. Surely the blessings of the Titans were needed for such a monumental task. He didn't have any power over the element of earth.
Did he?
He pushed his senses outward and down, probing for the solid ground far beneath.
There was a sudden blip of recognition, as if the earth itself was familiar with his mental touch. For one dizzying instant he was aware of the planet stretching out in all directions, a chaotic jumble of mountains, rivers, canyons, mesas and plains.
Fearful and surprised, he broke the connection immediately, drawing his senses back into the confines of his eggshell.
Azeroth was reeling from some traumatic event, and the elements were crying out in agony.
Tears stung his eyes and he curled into an even tighter ball. He couldn't fix all that! It was impossible! But if they were counting on him to save the planet, and he couldn't do it, did that mean he was about to hatch into a doomed world?
Overcome by misery, the tiny dragon tried to keep his mind blank and focus on the sound of Corastrasza's wings flapping. Rhea had said her flight would protect him and take care of him. Surely they wouldn't force him into anything he couldn't handle. He just had to be patient, and see what happened when they reached their destination.