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CHAPTER 1

Afternoon, though it appeared more like evening. The land was gray, grayer than he had ever seen it. He new this place, this long bleak scar gouged into the Redridge Mountains between the Blasted Lands and the Swamp of Sorrows. Gnarled, petrified trees reached out like cruel black talons, frozen in mid grasp. Jagged blacken cliffs gave the pass the look of a maw of a massive monster suspended in an eternal scream. The grim, chilly mists sent a shiver down his spine.

If he were in his true size, his entire body would fill the pass itself, from opening to opening. Over a thousand feet of treacherous ground and cursed haunts were only ghosts and ghouls were the only residents left.

This was Deadwind Pass.

Deadwind Pass was the place the Last Guardian of Tirisfal, the Mad Prophet Medivh was going to build the Black Portal. Here, the first invasion of the Old Horde was planned. Though for whatever reason, Medivh decided against building the Portal here was beyond even the dragons. Though it was stated that Medivh had gone, disappeared after the Horde and Alliance banned together in the latter half of the Third War to defeat the Burning Legion, his presence could still be felt.

Neltharion thumped the ground with a paw and listened to its song echoing back. There were two melodies playing within the bedrock, one of the sickly earth beneath his feet and another of magic. Though Neltharion could not see the leylines that streaked across Azeroth, he could hear the echo of the presence through the planet. Here, above all else, save perhaps the Nexus, is where he could hear the song of magic louder. The song coalesced to one point, a ringing note blaring from the rock like a klaxon. The point to which he heard the note was Karazhan itself.

Neltharion drew closer and the sound became louder until he at last beheld the ivory tower of the Mad Prophet himself. Above, he heard the squawk of a raven. The black bird circled the tower, a watchful guardian to the secrets that lay ahead. As the Earth Warder came closer to the dusty doors, he heard the raven squawk again. The raven dove down and then landed in a furry of feathers upon one of his great, spiky horns.

"What the hell…" Neltharion said, though it sounded more like a startled hiss. He shook his head, hoping that the bird would lose its balance and fly off. Sadly, it did neither. It flapped its wings but its claws still clung tightly to the craggily surface of his horn.

"Off," Neltharion said as he shook his head once more. "Off! Get off! Bad bird!"

But the bird seemed un-wavered by his attempts to shake him free. The raven, either as a show of how it was not the least bit afraid of the Great Black, or perhaps because it had an itch, extended a wing slightly and began to preen itself. Then, it started pawing the horn, scratching its clawed foot. It settled, more than contented to stay with the Earth-Warder.

"Well, I suppose deep down, I've always wanted a pet bird," he said. "Though I was hoping for a parrot."

The raven crawled upon his eye ridge and then shoved its beak right into his eye. Neltharion yelped in more surprise by the act rather than pain, dipping his head down and covering it with a paw. The dragon growled and snorted at last opening the slightly, dimly orange glowing eye. He blinked away a tear and stared at the bird annoyingly.

"One more peck from you and you're raven pie," Neltharion said with a low snarl.

The bird backed off, perching itself once more upon his horn. Once he felt that his unwanted companion was settled, Neltharion returned his attention to the dusty old doors leading into Karazhan.

Something drew the Aspect here, though he could not say what it was. He recalled prior to their rather violent parting, and before Theramore was destroyed, that Calia had mentioned she found a black whelp. The Red Dragons of the Vermilion Redoubt had found a black dragon egg, so they claimed when Neltharion prodded them. He could tell they were lying, though he had not the time to get the real truth out of them. The egg had hatched and a black whelp who called himself the Black Prince, had amassed a small following. He hired a rogue, the rogue the Red Dragonflight hired, to find various black dragons in hiding and kill them. One, he discovered, was Nalice, his old Wyrmrest Ambassador. She was hiding in Karazhan, trying to find something she could use in Medivh's old library.

Slowly, he pushed open the dusty glass doors of the old tower and went inside. The interior looked as bad as the exterior. Cobwebs lined the corners of the ceiling and walls, dust collected in piles after piles, dried leaves scattered across the black and white tiled floor. He could hear the haunting whispers of specters who once roamed the Ivory Tower. Neltharion sniffed the air. It was stale. Nothing had moved around in this old place in a long time. Though he smelled a small familiar scent reaching out from the corridor just at the other end of the Gate House.

He started to follow the scene, being drawn even further inside until he heard the raven squawk. Neltharion looked up as it flew off his horn and landed upon one of the rickety chandeliers. A solitary, partially melted white candle toppled to the floor, breaking in two.

"Neltharion!"

The Black Dragon felt his heart leap into his chest upon the voice calling his name.

"Neltharion!"

The voice had a raspy sound to it, though he could not mistake it. The Prophet Velen was calling for him. He could hear the voice from across the ocean itself, thousands of miles away from here. The raven squawked again, hopping off the chandelier and onto a dusty table. It beckoned Neltharion to continue on through Karazhan.

"Neltharion!"

The voice of Velen however did not. Neltharion rumbled with frustration, the floor vibrating beneath his paws. The raven squawked again.

"I…I can't," he said. "I…have to go."

With a heavy heart, the dragon left the Gate House, slowly descending the cobblestone stairs. The raven flew out of the door to land upon an oak tree branch. It squawked again. Neltharion only replied with a wag of his head.

"I'll continue this later," he said as he began to bound up the tall cliffs. With each leap, his wings opened up to help with his balance. He climbed his way up to the very top peak looking over Deadwind Pass and then took one last glance at it. As he rounded the peak, the gray rocks turned to rust. Neltharion looked to the west over the Blasted Lands. He hopped down, bounding from rock face to rock face until he cleared the ridge. Upon the open expanse of the rusted Blasted Lands, Neltharion allowed with relief, his body to return to its true size. Though instead of roaring triumphantly upon reaching his true size, the Black Aspect just softly sighed. He took a good look at his girth, noting just how much larger he became. He reached over a thousand and three hundred feet in length and his wings were over twice the width.

Over the coming weeks spending under the ocean, in the trenched, his rest allowed his body to catch up with the swelling caused by his emotional outburst. He filled out, his proportions evening with each growth. He worried though on when the next attack would come. The irony, the thing that seemed to make him stronger was the thing that cripples him. His horns still felt heavy, his neck straining to keep his head level. Each step into the rusty plain left a crater in its wake. The sweltering wind rose up and blew a few locks of his black and white striped beard into his mouth and nostrils. Neltharion sputtered and spat, batting the tangled locks away.

Without Calia there to help him keep his beard neat with grooming and braiding, the Aspect let it go wild. She was not there when he rose from the ocean, she was not there when he walked upon the beach back at Azuremyst Isle. So, he left to go on his search. He did what she asked, he left her alone and walked alone to search for any signs of the flight he left behind.

Neltharion took in a deep breath and spread his titanic wings. He kicked off gaining speed and altitude with each downbeat of his wings. They still felt clumsy to him, alien, due to their ever reaching size. So, he took it easy, flying a little over half his top speed, letting the hot air of the desert guide him west with each glide. He headed back towards Azuremyst Isle, bounding up above the clouds to conceal his path. He flew higher and higher until the rim of the world itself fell away and at last he could see the spherical shape of the planet. Neltharion pierced through the heavier troposphere layer into the much thinner stratosphere like a whale leaping out of the water.

No dragon could ever fly this high, the low pressure would rupture their ears and the shallow air made it difficult to breathe. But Neltharion could fly this high. He could hold his breath, the pressure did not bother his ears, and his wings were large enough to catch the thin air. Below, the world looked like it was encased in a hazy shield. He bounded through the great current of wind that swept across the planet, a vast river of air high above that brought the seasons. The sky above was a deeper blue, as deep blue as the ocean. His keen eyes could even see the lights of stars high above piercing through despite it being day. As he flapped, the tips of his wings sliced the air, forming contrails of mists.

High above, at last Neltharion the ceiling of the planet, the barrier he maintained the dangerous rays of the sun, the cosmic energy of the stars, and the waves of the Twisting Nether from harming the fragile world below. And he exhaled. Despite the great speed he gained from being so high, there was barely any sound. The world below looked frozen. He could no longer see the signs of civilization, only the world itself. Below him he could see the vastness of the Great Sea. Towards the south he saw the swirling cloudy mass of the Maelstrom and the stream of orange rays reaching out to the heavens.

His eyes looked beyond the Maelstrom. He took note of a curious sight, a dark mass in the southern horizon. This mass was new to him. Neltharion paused, correcting his flight path. He swirled the air around him, hovering now just at the edge of the Maelstrom. The black mass to the south was land. It seemed too large to be an island. It was another continent.

To the south…he thought. I looked to the south.

His baffled expression shifted as he turned away, looking towards the northwest. Neltharion streaked back towards Azuremyst Isle. He folded his wings close to his sides as he dove into an arcing descent, swiftly gaining speed. He opened the leading edge digits of his wings controlling his descent. The closer he came to the island chain, the lower he dropped until he splashed down into the troposphere in a thunder clap. The air split all around his body, radiating out as ripples in a pond. The dragon extended his wings fully, chasing the sun's trek west. Clouds parted in the wave. He taxied across the water, the waves sprayed about him, sliced by the wind of his wings.

Before him was the isle. Neltharion dove the water just off shore of the island, careful not to create a massive wave to disturb the sleepy isle. Now, in his smaller form, Neltharion stepped upon the sandy beach. The dragon shook his head, slinging his wet beard around until it stuck in a twist around his thick neck. He shook a few strands loosened and he began his trot back towards the Exodar, the dimensional ship of the Draenei. He rounded the grassy hill and into the park that surrounded the ship. Already, the damage he caused was repaired, the power was back on in the ship, flowing through the conduits and wires and lighting the park with their luminaries. Outside, Neltharion found the Prophet Velen and Vindicator Maraad outside.

The Prophet tapped his staff to the ground and once more shouted: "Neltharion!"

Neltharion sniffed and slowly walked towards them.

"Now where the hell did you learn to do that, Velen?" he asked.

The Prophet turned, a smile of relief spreading across his face when he saw the dragon approach him.

"I have been paying attention to my shamans, Earth Warder," Velen replied. "And my astute learning has not failed me."

"I'll say," said Neltharion. "I…could hear you all the way…" he paused, trying to decide where or not he should tell Velen where he had been the whole day. "All the way in the trench."

"Now, what did I tell you about holding water?"

Neltharion dipped his head and growled hesitantly.

"I am not going to tell you were you should and should not go, Aspect," said Velen, placing a kind hand upon the dragon's shoulder. "I am just concerned for your wellbeing. Given the condition you were in when I saw you last, can you blame me? You were in a lot of pain. I was worried if you were safe, if you were in a position where you might need help. I consider you a friend, it would not be proper if I was not concerned if you would ever return safe and sound."

"I…needed to fly," said Neltharion. "My wings…I needed to get used to them again."

"And how did your flight fair?"

"I had some…trouble flying around in the…" Neltharion broke off, raising his paw. "In the thick…part of the atmosphere. I had to…well…you see the planet has many layers of air…and…"

"Flying with your new wings in the troposphere was more difficult than the stratosphere, correct?" Velen asked. "The thinner air made it easier for you to maneuver with them."

Neltharion lifted a paw: "How did you know that?"

Vindicator Maraad smiled and pointed back to the Exodar: "Spaceship."

"It is alright, my friend," said Velen. "You can use all those fancy words around us. We will not be lost."

The Aspect sighed and bobbed his head.

"I see you got the generator working again," he said. "I am still very sorry for…"

"It was an accident, Neltharion," said Velen. "Nothing more. No one was harmed."

"Your splits have closed," said Maraad.

"Thank goodness," said Neltharion. "How did you know about the…um…"

"Radiation poisoning coming from your open ruptures?" Velen asked. "Well, once more, we have to know about those things because…"

"Spaceship," said Maraad.

"Spaceship," said Neltharion.

"Yes, that is one of the reasons," said Velen. "We have to help O'ros to maintain the ship. So it was imperative for us to understand what radioactive contamination was."

"Varian could not spare anyone to assist in repairing your plates," said Maraad. "Considering the…damage the tsunami caused."

Neltharion sighed heavily and lowered to his belly, laying his head upon his paws. He snorted a cloud of ash from his nostrils.

"You do know about that, do you not?" Velen asked.

"Yes," he replied in a long, drawn out rumble. "I know. Another accident." Neltharion lifted his head. "But this time people were hurt, Velen. This powers I have, they aren't a blessing, they're a curse. I…am a danger!"

"They are controlled by your emotions," said Velen. "To control them, you must be in control of yourself. You have to control your emotions."

"Control my emotions," he said. "I just lost my wife, I lost the child we were going to have. I am in constant fear for my flight's safety."

"And the visions?"

"I had a few of them."

"Monsters made of smoke," Velen asked. "The ones who beckon you to go south. These visions have a meaning behind them. You should listen to them."

Neltharion glanced away, laying his head back down. He loosened a sorrowful moan. Velen knelt down.

"I listen to my visions," he said. "After all, they brought me to this wonderful world you protect. So, you see, they are not all evil. When one door closes, another one opens."

Neltharion turned south, lines of worry etched into his brow.

"I know what will clear your mind," said Velen. "We have a warm mineral spring not far from the Exodar. I have found bathing in and breathing in the steam helps when nothing else seems clear. Besides, it will wash the seawater from your scales."

"I suppose I could use a bath," said Neltharion.

§§§

The steam worked its way into his nostrils, helping to clear his head. He took the brush into one paw and began to scrub away the grime from the scales of his forearm. Neltharion leaned back and took a deep, calming breath. He leaned against the edge of the heated, mineral spring, smiling as he began to relax. The spring was powered by the metamorphic rock underneath, heating up as the layer squashed due to the weight of the top portions of the crust. There were no volcanoes or any other geological activity on the islands, despite being close to an oceanic trench. The volcanoes in question were at the trench itself, mud volcanoes that helped to lubricate the plates, which explained the lack of earthquakes in the region. It also explained why these islands were so well protected even during the Cataclysm.

It took Deathwing breaking half the planet to cause even moderate damage to the island chain, including the Exodar, and Neltharion being on the island itself to cause visible damage to the park. Neltharion joked to himself he would have to kick the plate the islands sit upon itself to cause anything close to what everyone else felt around the planet during the Cataclysm.

He ran his talons through his beard, slowly pulling free the knots and tangles that bound it. The dragon glanced around, searching for a sign of any unwanted onlookers watching him bathe. Neltharion bobbed towards the center and then spread his wings slightly. He dipped his head down and began shaking his entire body, sending the water everywhere.

He flapped his wings and splashed the water all over him, getting the dirt and grime off his scales. He lifted his head up and shook it, slinging sparkling ribbons off his great horns. He dipped his head down again for another splash. From a distance, Neltharion would look more like a bird splashing in a bird bath. The dragon dove under, flopping sideways with a smile. His tail lifted out and crashed back down again as he began to happily submerge into the warm, refreshing spring.

Something flew over his head and then landed upon one of the rocks framing the spring. Neltharion tilted his head to find a raven scraping at the rocks. The bird hopped closer to him, fanning its tail and tiling its head back at him. It trilled. Neltharion slowly shook his head. It hopped closer. Neltharion moved away. The bird followed. The dragon hopped out of the spring and then spread his wings, giving them a good flap to sling the water from them. He shook the water from his scales. Neltharion turned around to find the raven hopping closer. He backed away, but the bird followed.

"No," he said. "You can't be. You're not that…"

The raven squawked.

"Go away," said Neltharion.

The bird ruffled its shaggy feathers and then shook its body. Once it was done with that task, it croaked at Neltharion again.

"What a riveting rebuttal," said Neltharion. "Stay there, and I am going inside…over there…you do not follow me."

He slowly backed away, one foot after another, his eyes never leaving the big black bird in front of him.

"Stay…" he said with a low, commanding tone. "Stay…stay…"

The bird hopped closer.

"No, stay there," said Neltharion. "Stay…stay…"

As he turned around, stepping ever so softly away, the dragon paused to find Velen.

"Did you enjoy your bath?" he asked.

"Yes," said Neltharion. "I feel much better. Thank you."

"Is there something wrong?"

Neltharion craned his head behind his shoulder to find the raven had vanished.

"No," he replied. "It's nothing." He slowly shook his head, his shoulders slump, his wings limp. "Nothing at all."

As Velen escorted Neltharion back to the Exodar.

"While you were resting under the ocean, a message from Stormwind City came," the Prophet began. "I left it in your room."

"What was it about?"

"I respect my guests' privacy," he replied. "So, I did not open it. But it was very important. It bore the Seal of the King."

They entered through the lower entrance, making their way up through the levels of the ship. Neltharion passed many Draenei who dipped their heads in greeting. Though he could feel their hearts. They seemed pensive, troubled, worried. The whole ship had an air of gloom about them as he saw many Draenei began to be preparing for something. Maraad then dipped his head.

"Forgive me, Holy Prophet, Earth-Warder," he said. "I must resume my duties."

"Of course, old friend," said Velen, gracefully waving a dismissive hand.

Maraad dashed off to an ascending chamber up a glowing, pink ramp. Neltharion turned back to the Prophet, his confusion only growing. He could see through Velen's calm expression. It was a mask to hide the deep stress that was building inside of him.

"What happened?" Neltharion asked.

"You were not the only one Stormwind sent a message to," Velen began. "I am sending some of my best shamans and paladins to Varian's aid." He pressed his lips tightly together, gripping his staff with a trembling hand. "Anduin…he is missing."

"Anduin," said Neltharion. His brow raised. "What happened to him?"

"Lost at sea," Velen replied. "Anduin was on a ship heading here to see me. I thought perhaps he could also help you given how well you and he bonded during your last visit. As we were going to repair the plates and mount them to your back…I knew Anduin would be able to aid in healing you. And I wanted to surround you with friends. Perhaps learning how to not just heal humanoids would help broaden Anduin's abilities." He hefted a heavy, baleful sigh. "But his ship was lost at sea in a storm. Not before they were ambushed by the Horde. Varian does not care if the Horde attacked the ship or not, the only thing he cares about is the safe return of his son."

Neltharion rumbled: "I should…help…find him. I could help."

"I have no doubts that you could," said Velen. "And I am sure Varian would be grateful, but you still need repair. I said I would repair you once the danger had passed. Varian has great confidence that Anduin will be found even without your help."

"Where was Anduin's ship last known location?"

"South of the Maelstrom," Velen said. "That was when they were caught in the squall."

"South?" Neltharion asked. "That's not the proper route to Azuremyst Isle from Stormwind."

"That is where the Horde fleet were driving the ship towards," said Velen. "That was why they sailed off course."

"South," said Neltharion. "My visions point south, Anduin's ship is lost to the south. The Horde is in the south."

"Then, when you have been repaired," said Velen. "And rested, you too should travel south. Tell me, have you figured out whether or not there is a land beyond the Maelstrom?"

"Yes," Neltharion replied. "There is. It's…it's the southern tip of what used to be Old Kalimdor, the supercontinent that was destroyed by the Sundering."

"Does this continent have a name?"

"I…don't know," he said. Neltharion's brow furrowed and he grimaced painfully as if the strain of the memory was too much for him to process. "I don't remember. All I know is, it wasn't there before. I do remember that Kalimdor had a southern tip, but I thought it was destroyed by the Sundering and only three continents survived. Of course, I couldn't sense it, not while Deathwing controlled me for ten thousand years. It just appeared. I can feel it. Something was blocking my sight, but it's gone now."

Neltharion turned every so slightly away from Velen just as the Prophet began to speak. His voice became distant, only a soft echo in Neltharion's ears. He heard the clear sound of a croaking caw. Just behind the Prophet, the dragon saw the raven from Karazhan again. The raven squawked and clacked. As the raven sounded, Neltharion thought he heard the bird speak a single word. South.

"Neltharion?" Velen asked, calling the dragon's attention.

The Aspect blinked his eyes, snapping out of his own thoughts and looked for the raven again. It was gone.

"Neltharion?" Velen said. "Is there something wrong?"

"Nothing," said Neltharion in a quick reply. His spiny neck scales raised, fluffing up like the feathers of a bird.

"That water is difficult to hold, is it not?"

Neltharion turned away, snorting a puff of black smoke: "Damn it…"

"You do not have to tell me if you do not want to," said Velen, reaching up to smooth out Neltharion's ruffled scales. He combed with the grain and the dragon let loose a soft, calming thrum. "I just want to help."

"I much rather not talk about it, right now," said Neltharion.

"And that is all you need to say," said Velen.

He led Neltharion to the quarters he made out for the dragon prior to the incident in the park. The mess Neltharion had made was cleaned up, new pillows and covers were set out for him. On a iridescent purple table was a tan colored envelope with the gold lion of Stormwind set in a blue shield. Neltharion looked upon the envelope, fearful of its message, fearful of the unknown.

"I shall leave you to rest," said Velen. "When we have reforged the plates we found, I will summon you."

"Thank you," said Neltharion, at last breaking his eyes away from the envelope. "Thank you, Velen, for your hospitality."

Velen bowed and the door slid shut. Neltharion took in a deep breath, reaching for the envelope. Taking great care, he broke the seal and pulled the message out. Slowly, he unfolded the message and scanned its contents. His lipped trembled, his heart lurched, his eyes began to ache as he read the message…a message that tore at his soul.

To the Esteemed Lord Daval Prestor, Former King and Sovereign Ruler of Alterac:

This letter is to inform you of the annulment of the marriage between yourself and Princess Calia Menethil of Lordaeron. As of this date, the 3rd of September, 622K.C. the marriage agreement made under the ruling of King Terenas of Lordaeron is voided, by the order of the High King Varian Wrynn of Stormwind. The petitioner of this annulment has grounds for its abolishment due to wrongful pretense of Lord Daval Prestor. The spouse had knowingly manipulated this false marriage into existence for sinister purposes to undermine the Alliance of Lordaeron during the Second War, as the Princess had provided as a witness, and that Lord Daval Prestor betrayed and defiled the Princess's body upon their bedding night. It is in the best interest of the former Princess of Lordaeron that you both must now go your separate ways.

May the Holy Light provide you, Lord Daval Prestor, with clarity for your hideous actions against the Princess. And may you at last see the errors of your ways.

Go in the grace and virtues of the Light,

Varian Wrynn, High King of Stormwind

Neltharion let the letter fall from his paws. He stood there, his body frozen in his disbelief. Their marriage was not only over, it never existed. This was the final dagger Calia drove into his heart.

"Calia…" he said. "Why? What did I do to deserve this?"

The betrayal was enough to sicken him. The letter, blaming him for the actions of Deathwing…the crimes he had committed and the ravishing of the one who he thought of as a partner, a lover, a friend…all for the sake to make even the fraction of companionship that they shared be cast off into oblivion. One little paper and that was all it took to rip his already weakened heart out. Neltharion could not bear to look upon the vanilla colored parchment. The letter wanted him to see the errors of his ways, but there were no errors he made. Not him, not personally. That was Deathwing's fault. This letter should have gone to him instead.

The Aspect tensed up, feeling his heart about to break with anguish.

Neltharion could feel a wash of emotion, spider-webbing out through every vein, every tendon like electricity. Hatred, despair, violence, doubt, rage, and fear. They all collided together until Neltharion could not differentiate between them.

As he tensed, he felt a stretch from the skin under his scales. A rip appeared on his shoulder as the lava oozed forth, trickling down his scales.

"No," he whispered as he folded upon himself, wrapping his wings tightly around his body. Each of the digits of his wings gripped him, their knuckles pale against the black leathery skin. "Not now. Please, not now."

He could feel his chest expanding, pressing against his forelegs.

"No," he said. "Don't do this. Control…control it…"

He heard the sound of a crack outside the window and he felt the ground beneath his feet tremble.

"Calm down," Neltharion whispered to himself. "Please. Don't…don't…"

He leaned back upon his hind legs, slumping over into a stoop as his forelegs kept their tight grip upon his chest. Another rupture split across his thigh as the swelling muscles flexed. Neltharion commanded his defiant body to obey, moving it closer to the personal wash room in his quarters. He could barely push his expanding body through the door, reaching out for the spicket knobs. He sucked in his stomach and pushed himself through, bending the door frame with each push.

His outstretched paw pulled upon the knob and the water began to fill the shallow tub. He reached for drain and lifted the latch to close it. Neltharion pulled himself away from the wash room and crashing to his back. He winced, another spasm trembling his side muscles. The heat began to build inside of him, the air began to shimmer around him. Neltharion lifted his paws, calling the water in the tub towards him.

"Cool…" he whispered. "Cool…thoughts. Cool…cold…"

The dragon winced, a sharp tinge splitting the scales upon his forearms. Scalding steam erupted from the wound. Neltharion raised his paws and commanded the building wave of water to wash over him. The water swirled around him, sealing him inside. With one stiff gesture of his paws, the water solidified into ice. Inside, the Aspect felt the cold ice working its way into his pulsating form, soothing him. Neltharion closed his eyes.

The water kept flowing from the tub.

What did I do wrong, Calia? he thought, his mind coming to the letter still lying on the moist floor. What did I do wrong? Where did we go wrong? Perhaps we…should have parted after Uldum.

The cold would stabilize him, the cold would sooth him. He could feel the swelling beginning to subside as he fought against his own raging heat to keep the ice solid.

The sun passed overhead, slowly beginning to set, turning the ice violet. Neltharion opened his eyes, seeing through the blurry reflections in the ice the door opening from the wall. A figure stepped through, looking nothing more than a white blob, though Neltharion could sense who it was. Velen had come inside to check up on him. He saw the blob that was Velen kneel down to pick up the letter from Stormwind off the floor.

The dragon exhaled, bubbles forming from his nostrils. Neltharion moved as the ice loosened around him. As he moved, the ice melted, falling to the floor as water.

"I'll…clean it up," said Neltharion. The water boiled away into steam, flowing out the window. The floor was now completely dry.

"I see this letter was not good news from Varian."

"When one door closes, another door slams shut and locks," said Neltharion. He dipped his head. "Not before it nearly pinched my tail off. Oh, and the boot slammed in my face. She…she…I…I don't understand…"

"I said that your world was too large for her and her world was too small for you," said Velen. "This is the price we pay to be what we are to have so many people counting on us. You have the world, but all she wanted was a small piece."

"A grain of sand instead of a beach," said Neltharion. "It's the principle of the thing. She told me my power fails for those who need it the most. I tried to tell her I am not some weapon she could just fire upon her enemies. I can't just go around smiting those she deems a threat." He scoffed, sneering in disgust. "Thoughts like that are what got me into trouble in the first place. It's what created Deathwing. I began to see that the people who lived on this planet as enemies. I saw them as obstacles, rising up against me. And I drowned myself into those thoughts until their blacken poison bubbled into that monstrosity that broke the world, enslaved my sister, and…broke the heart of my beloved Sintharia. Ripped the trust of my brother and best friend." His breath shivered, the rusty throat frill trembled. "It was those thoughts that pushed everyone away. I warned her. But Calia didn't listen. I thought she…understood. I…don't want to be alone…but being this…thing is a curse!" He tensed up. "I started…swelling again. That's why I froze myself. I was hoping the cold would…stop it. I'm a danger, Velen. I feel you are the last friend I have right now and…I don't want you to be hurt by…this…body of mine…" Neltharion straightened his shoulders, his paws digging deep into the metallic floor, scraping gashes into the surface. His voice became a whisper again. "I should go. I…thank you for helping me. But…I should go."

"If that is what you want," said Velen. "Please remember you are welcomed to come back if you need to. But I had hoped before you left that you would allow my blacksmiths to repair the plates. I do not wish to send you away half…dressed as it were."

"Tell them to hurry," he said. "I don't wish to stay here one more night. Not when something could happen…another accident…one that would…hurt your people. I couldn't live with myself if…that were to happen."

"Come with me."

As the night encroached, the blacksmiths were hard at work. Luminaries from the park lit the field. Hammers struck the elementium spikes, driving them into the Black Aspect's spine. Velen himself was hard at work, calling upon the grace of the Light to sooth away the pain. Plates were locked in place along the rips, holding them together. Rivets and bracers splint the fissures, binding them and the heat sealed deep within. Shamans worked their spells, the power of cooling water helped to harden the viscus lava. Scales swiftly grew over many of the smaller rips, beckoned by Velen's hand. Water swiftly quenched the heated plates as their dull fire dimmed.

Released from his binds, Neltharion stretched his wings. He curled his neck to peer upon the reworked plates. The smiths left engravings of their handiwork within the elementium. The plates were adorned with delicate swirling engravings and ancient runes of the Eradar followed the lines like dancing partners.

"These are symbols of good luck among my people," Velen said. "They represent the last vestiges of the culture we left behind. That is why we have them often carved into hammers of Vindicators and warriors. They remind us why we chose this life instead of the absolution of the Burning Legion. And they remind us of where we come from…and why we should cherish it. Each character tells its own story. It is my way of saying you are not alone in your struggles, Neltharion."

Neltharion arched his his neck, looking stately against the silvery shine of the White Lady.

"My blessing upon you will seem humble compared to those which have been bestowed upon the others: the managing of time, of life, of dreams and magic," he said, reciting the words once spoke to him upon his awakening. "I offer you the earth. The soil, the ground, the deep places. But know that the earth is the basis of all things. It is where we are rooted. Where you must come from, if you are to go to. Here is whence true strength comes. From deep places…within the world, and within oneself."

He could sense Velen contemplating upon the words, meditating on each meaning.

"I am afraid I have never heard that…passage spoken," said Velen. "Where did you learn it?"

"They were the words spoken to me by Khaz'Goroth," Neltharion replied. "When you said that you remind yourselves where you come from…who you were before Sargeras invaded your world, those thoughts reminded me what my father told me when he…granted me these powers. When he…made me…why he made me. Calia called me 'Dirt-Warder.' Even after she heard those words spoken to her…she still called me 'Dirt-Warder'. To her, all I protect is dirt. Who cares about the dirt? That is what she said to me."

"I care about the dirt," said Velen. "The dirt from my home. You never know how much you would regret losing something so…precious, until it is gone. I longed to see even a small rock from Argus. True strength is measured with the heart. That is what it means."

"Now, I feel my heart is not as strong as it used to be," said Neltharion. "I suppose it's why despite my physical strength…no matter how strong I am on the outside…I am weak on the inside. I said that Calia was my strength. Now that I lost her, I feel I have no more strength."

He slowly and carefully stepped away, though his heavy footfalls still brought a shudder to the earth. At last when Neltharion had gained enough distance, he turned back around to dip his head in parting.

"Thank you, Prophet," he said. "I…am in your debt."

"You owe me nothing," said Velen. "This is what I do. This is who I am. I bring help to those who need it, no matter how great or how small. Azuremyst is always welcomed to have you here. Dioniss aca, Earth-Warder."

Neltharion spread his wings and took off into the cool, cloudless night sky. He banked into a turn, his flight taking him back east. There was unfinished business in the east. Karazhan. That raven who was trying to tell him something. The land to the south. The Black Prince. Neltharion set his mind to those riddles. His heart, on the other hand, still felt lost. Lost without Calia. Conflict raged on inside of him, one of logic, the other of emotion.

As the lights from Azuremyst Isle faded over the bend of the horizon, Neltharion could feel the the disbarring loneliness worm its way into his heart like maggots in rotting flesh.

And Calia was no longer there to banish his woes.