Rega's PoV

It's funny you know. How people always trying to imagine where would be a few years down the line. As a child I would think that I would live a long, happy life, despite living in the desert of Durotar. As I grew up I would sometimes think of the ways I could die in battle, protecting my people and my family, something that would earn the ancestors favor. Now, I appear to have been denied that chance. My duty has taken farther from home that I have ever been, and the world I was brought here to help protect burn's in the fire's of army of darkness. The one's I fought along side have already died, and I can already feel myself fading. It's funny. I used to look down on them, princesses, that had never seen war, poverty, or starvation. Girls only slightly younger than myself, that have never had to fight in their lives. Yet, when their backs were against a wall, they did even more than I ever could as a shaman. But now they are dead, and I will never get a chance to tell them how wrong I was about them. When I came here, I was embarrassed, no, ashamed to call them my peer's. Now, I would sing in their honor, and would have inn's reveal in their stories. They fought with all of their might, against impossible odds and certain death that found them all to swiftly. But one can ever change the past, no matter how badly you wish.

I felt my massive body shudder from the wounds it had received fighting the creature made of pure darkness. It was still surrounding the Lunar Kingdom with it's mass, not even fazed by the strength of an aspect, or by that of my dead allies. It still watched, massive red eyes looking for any survivors, so the forces that brought with it could slaughter without fear of an aerial counter-attack. That army had to be close to the portals now. The portals to Azeroth had remained opened throughout the attack, not that the Horde or Alliance would have been able to be of any help. I remember the hot deserts of Durotar, the beauty of Eversong Woods, and the peacefulness of Mulgore. If that army reached Azeroth, all of that would be destroyed, burned and leveled to the ground like this place was. In that moment, I felt my anger boiling within my blood. My one good wing flexed, pushing against the air. My battered and bruised limbs began pushing up. My aspect form was slowly pulling itself up on it's feet. I was not going to let Azeroth burn, and I was not going to die like a beat dog. I feel one word come to my mind.

"NO!", my form bellows. "I will not let you finish this with me still having strength!" The creature overhead hears, eyes narrowing to red slits. It know's I'm not a threat. With only one wing, I cannot even get close to it. But what little strength I have, I know what I can do. The last of my magic slowly begins flow from my body. With it gone, my body falls still, before crashing to the ground once again. In the distance I hear two faint explosions. I feel my eyes close. Azeroth will be safe. Without the portal's, they will not find my home. My family is safe. My father and motron, and my unborn sibling too. The friends I made will never see this darkness come after them. My enemies will never have to witness this destruction, for I could never wish this type of slaughter even on them. I always thought I would die for the Horde. But instead, I have died for something much more. Rather than dying for halve of a world, I died for all of it.

The last of my life essence is fading fast as I glance up to see the monster reeling in pain as a bright light comes from the ruins. I can braily feel my mouth open into a dragon's equivalent to a grin. My eye's close, but with my dying breath, I can hear a faint screaming noise. Then everything goes black.

(Orcish Afterlife)

I slowly began to open my eyes. I am no longer in my aspect form, and I can no longer feel my body. I'm dead. I think many would panic at realizing such a thing, but strangely, I only feel peace. I take a look at my surroundings as I pull myself up. Everything is white, stretching on endlessly. This is not what I was expecting. I always thought that afterlife was like a banquet, with heroes of legend feasted with others, telling stories of their victories battles. I hear a cough from behind me, making me to turn around. Then I had to look up. Two ghostly orc's stood before me. One male, built of pure muscle and power. The other was like a female out of any man's wildest dream's, just as strong as her male counterpart, and not willing to be second fiddle to him. The female spoke first.

"Hello granddaughter," she said, "It is a pleasure to meet you at last." I gasp, before falling to one knee.

"Grandfather, Grandmotron," I say. The grandparent's that even my father only heard stories about where standing in front of me. Durotan and Draka, leaders of the Frostwolf clan on Dreanor, now the shattered world of Outland.

"You should not be kneeling Granddaughter," Durotan said. "After all, we are equals, are we not?" It was not a question meant to be answered, but a statement, and he was right. I rose to my feet, still having to look up to meet their eye's.

"Where am I?" I question, looking around the white space again. It was just us here, something very strange. Draka cracked a small grin.

"You are dead. But it does not seem fate wants you to stay dead," answered Durotan. I look at him, confusion clear in my face. What was he talking about?

"You are going to be reborn Granddaughter," Draka said "You will have another chance to fight the enemy that killed you, and have your vengeance in time." At the mention of vengeance I feel myself grin. Good. I will have another chance to fight, and take retribution for the slaughter. But confusion took hold again.

"How?" I ask, "Who is bringing me back?"

"The queen on the moon," Draka stated, "Is bringing back all the dead that had died in a four thousand season's time." My jaw dropped slightly, causing Durotan to snicker.

"Four thousand season's?" I ask, shocked. "What am I supposed to do for that long?" Draka grinned, looking at Durotan, who nodded, before looking at me with his blue eyes.

"Tell us stories," he said, "Tell us the stories that made you who you are."

Well that is the first part of my new story. I hope whoever took the time to read the story likes what I have written. Please ask questions about the story, and also leave tips to help improve my writing.

Thank you for reading!