A/N: Let me start out by saying this. "I hate Richard Knaak!" There now that is out in the open, let me first state this story starts off with an alternate ending to Night of the Dragon, written by aforementioned defiler of paper and ink. This story was mainly inspired by CII's work in dragging not only Neltharion's rep out of the mud, but also Malygos to a lesser extent.

I was also motivated by reading Sinestra/Sintharia's tragic story, and my rage in how most fanfic writers seem to gloss over her. So I thought it might be a good idea to pull Sinestra out of the shaft and give her another chance. And take a closer examination on who she is, who she was, and who she can become.

There are screams that cannot be silenced. They rise louder, and louder. It's the sound of a queen betrayed and abandoned, suddenly, long ago. As the screams echoed then through the deep places of Azeroth, they echoed now eternally in her soul. It gouged into the Super-Ego, mutated and distorted the id, penetrated into the deepest and darkest parts of her mind. It slammed into her decayed sanity, it bounced off the loss... her everlasting torment. The Earth Warder is gone. She was alone. Sintharia is dead.

It was easier to live as if she had never been that sad and pathetic dragon, it was comforting to think that this new life would be a better one. And why shouldn't it have been? She was on the cusp of creating a flight of her very own, a far-cry from the one that had cast her aside. She had worked to turn this wonderful dream into reality for the past five centuries.

She existed now as a brutalized mockery of her former self, baring her ultimate shame for all to see. Her name was Sinestra, formerly known as Sintharia, matriarch of the Black Dragonflight.

For the past several centuries Sinestra had been plotting and scheming her return to prominence. She had a dream, a dream of a dragonflight to call her very own; a flight that would sweep the old ones aside and enable her to dominate the world. It was an obsession, all she could think about was the future that would soon be hers to shape, and the children that would lead her to it. To this end she had over the centuries stolen hundreds of eggs from broodmothers of all five flights with the intent of mutating them into the forms that she desired.

And she had been successful, and in that moment she had felt joy. Dargonax had been born. The name meant 'devourer' in the ancient tongue of dragonkind, and to him it was most fitting; for Dargonax had an insatiable vampiric appetite for power. But in the end, he had just been a single step in her ultimate design of perfection, and such knowledge had infuriated him.

The end of her dreams came as they always did, on the crimson wings of a dragon she had learned to despise almost as much as the one that had mutilated her long ago. Korialstrasz.

Sinestra had watched in abject horror as she watched the culmination of her efforts blow up in her face. Literally. Dargonax, her 'son' as she had affectionately labeled him, was dying and determined to take her down with him whether she liked it or not. Her old enemy, the red wyrm Korialstrasz consort of the Aspect of Life, accompanied by his mortal allies had thwarted her designs yet again, and it looked like this time it would be for keeps. Suffice to say Sinestra was angry, she had endured too much pain and torment for it all to amount to nothing now. Fate couldn't be that cruel.

Dargonax had rebelled against her, goaded on by her nemesis. The sudden attack had taken her by surprise, and her treacherous creation had landed a blow on her belly that had nearly eviscerated her.

But then, such betrayal was not by any means new to her. She had gotten particularly adept at surviving it, especially when it came from her own family. Yes she considered Dargonax as a 'son' mostly because nearly all of her true children were now dead, and there was not a black wyrm on Azeroth that would consent to give her more. Additionally the very thought of mating was terrifying for her, especially considering the manner in which she had earned her eternally burning scars.

But Dargonax was also dying, he was destabilizing and soon he would collapse in on himself, likely taking her with him. It was in this moment that Sinestra realized she had been duped. The voice in her head... it was laughing. It was the laughter of the one being in all of Azeroth she hated above all others; Deathwing. She had been used, coerced into creating this creature for her former mate's designs. And now she was being cast aside. Tears of rage stained her ruined face as she flew hard to keep Dargonax at a distance; the pain, the humiliation, it was all coming back to her. She had failed in the most damning way possible. Korialstrasz damn his scales had been right all along.

He was chasing her into the sky above Grim Batol. Her wounds were slowing her down. It was at this juncture she was presented with a choice. She could either try to make a break for the mountains, or she could stand and fight. Kill her son.

Something in her rebelled at the notion, told her that to strike down her son would be an unforgivable crime. She also noted that it was the same voice that had put her in this mess. Deathwing – even as she was reaching the end of her rope – still sought to obfuscate her will. She would not have any of it.

She glanced back. Dargonax was gaining on her, eyes alight with loathing and desperation. She continued to laboriously thrust herself skyward. Just a little longer.

Blood pounded through her ear plates, winds tore at her mutilated body, heat gathered in her crop in anticipation. Not yet.

The thudding report of Dargonax's wings filled her ears, then she felt it. The air seemed to jump away, as the great Twilight phased back into corporeal form. Now!

She twisted suddenly in the air, ignoring the screaming agony that coursed across her abdomen as the tears Dargonax had rent upon her belly stretched with the movement. Apparently this act surprised Dargonax, who faltered a moment before her magma breath into his angered face.

"You are no child of mine..." she hissed angrily, "You are just another failure. And I tend to all of my mistakes." Sintharia opened her maw and once more unleashed a blast of viscous lava, the powerful variation of the natural breath weapon that only the mightiest of the Black Dragonflight could wield was devastating. The molten rock splashed upon Dargonax's multi-hued hide, burning him and weighing him down.

"I will not endure Deathwing's duplicity and treachery any longer!" She roared, tears still streaming from her eyes as she watched Dargonax flail and fall. All this time she had thought she had been acting of her own free will, she had forsaken her life, her family, her Flight, and even her own name to get away from the infernal beast that had defiled her so long ago. And it had all been for naught, he had still used her anyway. Now she had nothing.

Dargonax recovered and roared angrily as he tried to gain height on her, Sinestra would not let him. All she had to do was wait until he finally fell to pieces, then victory would be hers.

"You will not escape me!" Dargonax raged as he pumped his wings harder, his body suddenly recontaining it's energies, his eyes blazed burning red in a manner that reminded her of Deathwing. Sinestra balked in shock, 'How did he restabilize himself?!' it defied all logic; what had she created? Truly she had created the ultimate monstrosity, a bane to all dragons, to all creatures that walked this world. He would devour them all, just as his name implied.

You cannot beat us.

You cannot find us.

You cannot hide.

You cannot run.

You will succumb.

Before the Hour of Twilight, falls!

Six terrible voices laughed in unison.

Dargonax flew up to her with a powerful burst of his massive wings, phasing out of reality as he did so. His incorporeal nature meant the lava that had been weighing him down simply fell off of him. Sinestra tried to erect a shield around her, anything to keep her rampant creation at bay.

Korialstrasz had nearly sucked down his own tongue when he saw Dargonax recover from his seemingly imminent destabilization, and his heart sank deep in his chest. 'Is there anything that can stop this abomination?' he thought furiously. Sintharia was clearly trying to do just that, but she was failing. Sintharia was strong, perhaps the most powerful black dragon left alive now that Deathwing was gone. But she was also badly injured and would not last long against the ravenous twilight dragon. It would indeed be poetic justice, for Sintharia to meet her end at the claws of her profane 'child', she had caused more than enough evil to deserve such a fate.

He watched as Dargonax slammed into her, eliciting a shriek of rage from the disfigured dragoness. Before she could disengage, the massive Twilight grabbed hold of her from behind, hugging her close to his chest.

"You thought you could control me," Dargonax growled, "You thought you could replace me, that you could create children more magnificent than I!" He tightened his embrace on Sintharia as her struggles increased.

"Release me you ungrateful whelp!" The enraged black demanded. Dargonax responded by producing a dark purple corona around his body, a look of rapturous delight in his eyes. He's draining her! Korialstrasz realized.

Sinestra writhed as Dargonax greedily feasted on her energy, savoring it as he slowly siphoned it out of her body.

"Scream for me!" Dargonax gloated as he squeezed her tighter. Sinestra in that moment panicked, those words and they way he said them, invoked memories so horrible that all she could feel was the agony that could only come from being burned alive. She clawed and bit, giving her all in an attempt to break free of the abomination.

It was a stupid way to die. To be made a victim of her own hubris, to know that Deathwing – in the end – would be profiting from her misforune. Truly, life was a bitch; even more so than herself.

Dargonax was too strong for her, there was no escaping from his vice-like embrace. As the strength was leeched from her, she felt something feeling against her mind, coming from Dargonax, and yet it was not Dargonax. It pierced her crumbling mental wards and her vision fell to darkness.