Author's Note: Anachronos sends Thrall to the "Bad Future" depicted in the End Time storyline/dungeon in an attempt to stop his father. Semi-AU. Nozdormu/Murozond (I can't be the only one who got that) does not want to stop this future from happening here. He is undisputed master of the wasteland. Thrall is referred to as Thrall here, not Go'el, because I don't like that name. Lore reasons be damned. Vague Chrono Trigger reference, but come on, the dungeon is called End Time. Will be continued. R/R.

End Time

Thrall was beginning to get impatient. He'd learned much of patience from the element of earth, but not so much that he could sit in one place for hours when he'd heard that the summons was a dire one. The normally reclusive and untalkative bronze dragonflight had asked him to come here. Not inside the Caverns.

It was likely they rarely allowed anyone inside unless they had permission from another dragon. No, Thrall was forced to sit on the sands of Tanaris near a large, runed stone used for summoning rituals and wait on his summoner, apparently a very important bronze dragon.

He did not like the looks that the Keeper at the entrance to the Caverns kept giving him, but kept his opinions to himself. He did not even attempt a conversation. The dragon would likely not have responded anyway. The orc continued to attempt a patient wait in the hot sands. Aggra had asked what was so dire, and had insisted he go at once as soon as she learned that it was a bronze dragon that had summoned him.

Aggra had a great respect for dragons and seemed to think any time that one asked someone something that there should be no questions. For Aggra, dragons were the protectors of Azeroth and beings to be revered as much as the elements. Thrall had great respect for dragons as well, but he didn't see them as beings to be revered. He saw them as...people.

They had the same feelings, emotions, worries, and doubts that orcs had. His friendship with Aspect of Magic, Kalecgos, had confirmed this. As had seeing Alexstrasza in a state of despair close to suicide. Dragons were as vulnerable as mortals. Sometimes more. They saw more, felt more. Thrall sighed and glanced at the sky. The sun was slowly creeping down the horizon as Tanaris grew darker. He wondered how much longer his mysterious summoner would make him wait.

As if in answer to his almost frustrated thought, he was suddenly hailed with a buffet of sand as a huge bronze dragon descended a few feet in front of him. This bronze looked different than most. Instead of the sleek, almost golden scales and gold hourglass eyes, it was flecked here and there with silver and black and its eyes were pure black, no pupil or iris to speak of, almost as if it were caught betwixt a transformation of some type.

Thrall watched it with increasing uneasiness. There was something unnatural about this dragon...

"Hail, Thrall, son of Durotan. I am Anachronos, son and heir of Nozdormu, Aspect of..." the dragon hesitated before continuing, "Aspect of Time. I come on my own behalf and the behalf of all mortal races."

Thrall couldn't understand this one bit. What had happened to this dragon? Last time he had seen Anachronos, the great bronze hadn't had these...mutations.

As if sensing his questions, Anachronos had answers. "You must be...wondering...what happened to me. The short answer is: my father. The long answer is...something I would rather not take too long to explain. Regardless of my unusual appearance, I still seek your aid and hope you will provide it."

The former warchief stood finally, staring up at the bronze. "Does it hurt?" Was his first question. He realized how stupid it sounded and rephrased it. "My apologies, I meant, what happened to you, are you in pain? Is there something I can do to...ease it?"

Anachronos shook his bronze-mottled head. "Not at the moment. It only hurts mentally, not physically."

Thrall did not understand this, but didn't question the dragon and waited for it to go on.

"Anyway, there is a great...disruption...in the timeways. A disruption caused by a monster called Murozond...it is happening right now in place I have dubbed The End of Time, because, in my eyes, that is exactly what it looks like."

Thrall was even more puzzled now. How could time possibly end? "Excuse me, Anachronos, what do you mean, End of Time? How can time end? Time is infinite..." Thrall trailed off as he heard a great heaving sigh emit from Anachronos.

"Infinite..." the silvery-bronze dragon seemed to shiver, "Time is not...infinite. I need you to help my father once more. As you did for us when he was lost in the timeways. I can't tell you how because I don't know myself. I can only ask that you trust me. That you go to...The End of Time...and see what I see there. And stop it, or prevent its passing."

The orc was interested now. Scared, a bit, but interested... "The End of Time...before I accept, may I ask, will I be endanger? If I go only to see, will the...monster...attack me?"

Anachronos gave a dragon-shrug. "I cannot honestly say what the thing will and will not do. You may well be in grave danger. Your life may be forfeit should you choose to accept and aid me and others like me. However, you may also just save the world." Anachronos grinned. "Again."

"However, I cannot say that you will like some of the things you may see. You may be hurt more mentally, emotionally, than physically...it is a dire task, but one that must be done, and you have aided the bronze flight in the past, so I only ask because you are the only one I trust to do the thing properly."

Thrall thought about this for but a few moments. If the world was in danger, there was no question. His loyalty lay with Azeroth, with protecting it. If Azeroth was a wasteland, surely her elements were also in pain. As a shaman, it was his duty to help the elements. As an orc, a husband, perhaps a future father...it was his duty to protect the world from destruction. There was no question at all anymore.

"I accept, dragon. I have but one question before you would have me go. This...end of time...how far into the future is it?"

Anachronos hung his head. The one question he did not want to give an answer to.

"A mere twenty years, son of Durotan...a mere twenty years before our world meets its end. The end times are almost upon us...at least, in a dragon's eyes."

Thrall felt a wave of despair creep over him. A mere twenty years...meaning his Aggra, himself, and possible children may not have survived... "Anachronos...in this end time...are there any survivors at all? Any living beings besides the monster ruling the wastes?"

The dragon gazed at him sadly. "There are small pockets, Earthbinder...but do not let such despair creep upon you...you set out to stop this from happening, not to despair over what you bear witness to. Whatever you see, I plead with you, do not let it stop you from your...end goal. Defeating Murozond and bringing balance back to the hourglass..."

Anachronos raised a taloned arm and gestured. A timeway portal, unlike any Thrall had ever seen, appeared before the orc. It was twisted, black, and broken-looking. Something almost resembling a skull could be made out within the twisted fragments of the portal. Thrall was loathe to step inside, to see what awaited him. Still, he had given his word. He looked at Anachronos. The dragon nodded. It was time, then.

Without time to rethink his decision, the orc stepped inside the portal. Instead of the normal, nauseating, yet natural feeling most time portals gave off, this one...all he felt was maddening pain. He felt his body twisted and torn at by claws and spikes he couldn't see, but could feel so easily. Black lightning flashed in his twisting vision as he suddenly came to a stop.

He almost felt thrown out of the portal instead of the natural going through and simply stepping out on the other side. The blackened, twisted skull-portal vanished behind him. Thrall's gut twisted. If the portal closed, how was he to get home? Perhaps by defeating Murozond...

Thrall looked around him, at this end time...a wasteland...Anachronos was right. Nothing living was here. Winds didn't even howl. Sand didn't move. Nothing moved. It was almost as if this entire place was frozen in time. Thrall sent a small call out to the elements. No answer. No elements...this was a dead world. This was Azeroth...

Stepping forward, his feet crunched over something hard. He bent down and picked up the object. An axe...notches...no. Gorehowl...Grom...Garrosh's axe. Even his best friend's son had fallen in this world. Garrosh was full of fire and passion and strength...it would take a lot to take him down. That was when he looked up and realized where he was.

Though it lay in desolate ruins, there was no mistaking his old home...Orgrimmar and Grommash Hold lay in ruin. Dead ruins. Thrall walked through the dead, lonely Orgrimmar. The auction house, normally so full of life and people, was also barren. Small skeletons clung to the bars near the auction house. The dead goblins had attempted to escape from whatever had killed them and had died, trapped, in their precious auction house.

A sound drew his attention away from the goblin skeletons. There WAS life here...someone, somewhere...it had come from the Drag. Thrall resolutely made his way down toward the Drag, attempting to ignore the skeletons and bones of dead tauren, trolls, blood elves, goblins, orcs...it made him wonder whether one of those skeletons belonged to his mate, his beloved Aggra, or Baine, Cairne's son.

Thrall licked his lips and pushed the thoughts out of his mind and continued his journey toward the only life he sensed in this broken Orgrimmar. Slowly, he approached what remained of Ragefire Chasm...it had collapsed upon itself. Dead trogg skeletons littered the area in front of the entrance. Even the enemies had ran from whatever killed Orgrimmar.

Something sharp pressed into the shaman's back. Sharp and deadly...a spear.

"Move, and I will not hesitate. You will die where you stand, servant of Murozond. Only his servants can walk so freely, so unafraid in this wasteland..."

The voice was tired, old, and female. And obviously an orc. Thrall did not move, nor turn, since it would likely result only in his getting impaled on the spear and failing his mission. Anachronos had sent him to this dead Orgrimmar for a reason. He hesitated, thinking of telling the orc with the spear at his back a lie, but deciding instead on the truth.

"Mistress, please...I am no servant of Murozond...I do not even honestly know who that is. I come from the past...to save the future. To stop this from happening. I was sent by-"

The spear shoved harder. Thrall felt a bit of blood seep through his robes. Weak though she undoubtedly was, she still had enough of a jump on him to kill him. "Bronze dragons! Its their fault! They did this! They killed! Everyone! Everything. Their...their...if you were sent by them, you were sent by the vile one."

Her spear increased in pressure. Thrall couldn't allow this to continue. He didn't want to hurt a weak, old, female orc but he had promised Anachronos he would do whatever he could to stop this. Thrall leapt forward, spun on the female, easily twisted the spear from her grasp and held it at her throat. Thrall noticed she had brown skin and white, aged hair. He was momentarily reminded of his grandmother, the Mag'har chieftaness.

The female orc seemed unable to speak, and not due to the spear at her throat. Her dark eyes widened in shock. "No...it cannot be. You are dead. Deathwing killed you...it cannot be." Her lips trembled as she whispered this. "Go'el...you are an illusion. An illusion sent by Murozond to kill us..."

Thrall held the spear steady, confused by her words, and disturbed...he had been killed by Deathwing in this future. And this woman knew him as Go'el. Very few he told that name to...

"Who are you? What do you mean 'Deathwing killed me'? I am alive. I told you. I have come from the past to prevent this from happening."

Tears streamed down the female's face. Her wide, dark eyes no longer frightened, just sad, devastated. "Go'el..Go'el...you do not recognize me? You really are not lying...I am your Aggra, Go'el...I was lost so long after your death. I lived...live...only to protect our children."

Thrall dropped the spear. "Aggra? Children? No...it cannot be...this is not the future I imagined."

Future Aggra rubbed her throat where the spear had been, but did not stand. "I am too old, Go'el...I cannot help you stop it. I cannot help you..." Aggra sobbed. Though she was older, and nearly unrecognizable, Thrall bent down and pulled her into a hug.

"I told you. I am here to stop this. It won't happen. You won't live like this. Our...children...won't live like this. I will make things right, I promise."

Aggra simply clung to the past version of her husband and sobbed, saying nothing.