Sinestra awoke to the sound of rushing water, the gentle whisper of summer winds over rock, and the rumble of lava beneath the earth. Her eyes fluttered open tiredly, focusing against the sunlight reflecting brightly against stone. Tiredly she rose up and took a look at her surroundings. Her eyes widened at what they beheld. The Obsidian Sanctum.
It was the Sanctum as it used to be, everything was as she distantly remembered it. Bright sun and blue skies over a rugged volcanic landscape. Columnar basalt flows stretched upwards like masses of polygonal fingers, hot springs, geysers, and bubbling mud volcanoes dotted the floor of an immense caldera. Along the crater's rim were the mouths of many caves, which was where the Sanctum's purpose was fulfilled.
The Obsidian Sanctum was a refuge for all in the Black Dragonflight, it was the oasis in the desert, the island in a stormy sea; it was where a dragon could find peace. It also served as a place where broodmothers could lay their clutches, and raise their whelps in safety. In days long gone by, Sinestra remembered this place as always bustling with activity, families of dragons and dragonspawn playing, training, and carrying on the work of their charge over Azeroth.
But when Neltharion fell, and Deathwing rose in his place, everything changed. The Sanctum had mutated into a place of discord and destruction, it was no longer a safe place to raise whelps, it had become a dead realm. There was no broodmother left in the flight that would ever consider seeking sanctuary in that fallen place.
To see it now as it was before, had brought a sense of blissful nostalgia into her heart. Unbidden memories of being surrounded by her children came to her, she had felt such happiness then.
She shook off the foreign feelings. This was not right, where was Dargonax? She distinctly recalled being leeched by the treacherous felspawn before blacking out. There was also something else amiss: she felt no pain.
Pain had been her closest companion in the last ten-thousand years, the scars Deathwing gave her had been a remorseless source of unending agony. Never once had the pain lessened or intensified, and it had been more than enough to produce more than a few psychological issues. This sudden relief from the torment was mind blowing, it felt as if a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders.
She looked at herself, and noted with chagrin that the scars remained. Sinestra had long ago surrendered to the idea that she would bear them for the rest of her existence, as a bitter reminder of the past. She moved experimentally, flexing her fore and hind limbs; she noted with some surprise that the hitch in her right shoulder was no longer there, the result of an injury sustained in battle with Korialstrasz a number of centuries ago.
Sinestra then crouched low, the muscles in her hind legs coiling. She then pushed up with a mighty downbeat of her wings, she lost altitude for a brief moment before leveling out and angling her flight path along the right rim of the caldera. Her keen eyes swept the rugged terrain for any sign of life. There was nothing.
Sintharia...
Sinestra stopped and hovered, head twisting around for the source of the voice who called her by her discarded name. Her eyes fixed upon a hill in the center of the caldera with a wide cave mouth leading deep into the earth. It was a cave she knew very well. With a moment of hesitation she turned about and flew down towards the hill and it's solitary cave. Her anxiety grew as she flew down to the cave entrance, her heart hammered in her chest.
This was her cave.
This was their cave.
"Quite a sight, isn't it Sinthie?" A chipper feminine voice asked right next to her. Sinestra nearly jumped out of her scales in surprise, she leaped away and rounded on the stranger, teeth bared and crop flaring with the promise of fiery death. But when she saw who it was, the bottom dropped from under her mind. It was a large female black dragon, her scales shimmered like polished pewter, and her bright amethyst eyes possessed an expression of profound cherubic joy. A golden diadem rested over upon her narrow skull, inlaid with precious stones, her gently curving horns had titanic runes lovingly carved into the surface.
"Ma-Mytheria?!" Sinestra blurted, backing away from the dragon. In life, Mytheria had been one of her fellow consorts before the Sundering, she along with three others had shared the task in mating with the Earth-Warder once every twenty years. Mytheria had been the youngest, being only twelve-thousand years old at the time of her death.
"What is wrong, sister? You look like you have seen a ghost!" the younger wyrm chirped pleasantly. Mytheria had been the unfaltering optimist of the sisterhood, always ready to cheer her up when she was feeling doubts or depression, she had been blessed to have her as a friend. And losing her, had moved Sinestra beyond the scope of grief.
A darkened curtain of clouds filled the sky, rain pelted her scales and ran down in sheets along her wings. Thunder rumbled in the distance, signaling the coming of the perfect storm. Sintharia had her head bent low as she gazed upon the broken, ravaged form laying before her.
Open wounds burning with the heat of the deepest volcano marked her hide, a rent in the gut spilled charred intestines upon the blackened earth, wings torn from the sockets and discarded, spine twisted unnaturally. And yet she lived.
Sintharia's mind rebelled at the sight. Those bright, spirited eyes once filled to the bursting with light and love, now only held pain and unfathomable misery. Her spirit just as ruined as her flesh. The stench of blood, cooked meat, and evacuated bowels filled the air, stinging her nose as her eyes wept, tears hidden by the rain striking her face.
'Neltharion,' she thought miserably, 'Why are you doing this to us?'
The loving, kind mate she had known for thirty-seven thousand years was gone. Replaced by a monstrosity of fire and infinite madness.
"I... tried..." Mytheria rasped, "... to get... through to him... failed" she took a rattling breath, "Suh... sorry."
She was beyond healing, no amount of restorative elemental power could heal such damage.
"Do... it..." Mytheria whispered, her eyes pleading, "Finish... it..."
Sintharia's heart shattered in her chest, "Goodbye... sister." Her claw rose, and slashed downward, bright crimson splashed against her chest scales. A golden heart – one of the purest and bravest in the flight – stopped beating.
Sintharia gathered her friend's violated corpse in her claws, head bent low, tears anointing her brow as the black queen shook with emotional agony. Her head canted upward and she screamed out a mourning wail.
It was a scream that could not be silenced.
Sinestra stood gaping at her friend of old, "You are dead."
Mytheria cocked her head, "So I am."
There was a pregnant moment of silence, "Am I dead?"
"Almost but not quite," the deceased consort replied smoothly, "Dargonax, that charming 'son' of yours is trying to squeeze you dry at the moment, your life force is being bolstered by a very gracious benefactor."
The former consort of the Earth-Warder blinked in confusion, "If I am being drained, why am I here in the old Sanctum?"
"This is your mindscape Sintharia, when you lost consciousness, your mind conjured surroundings you equated to safety, time here is at a standstill for the moment. So you need not worry." But she did worry, she was for the first time in a long time completely out of her depth. Everything she had striven for lay in shambles, and now she was conversing with the dead.
"And what of this... benefactor?" Sinestra asked, liking this situation less by the second.
Mytheria clucked her tongue teasingly, "This is the first time we have talked in a hundred centuries, and you can't bring yourself to ask me how I have been all this time?" She answered in mock hurt, "I don't know who he is, but he seems to really know you."
Sinestra growled deep in her throat. She absolutely despised being at the mercy of anyone, it made her feel exposed, weak. Independence was everything to her, the last ten-thousand years had taught her that she could only depend on herself, and the thought that her life now depended on some unknown being frustrated her.
"Should I suspect that this... intruder be expecting a boon for this favor?" Sinestra demanded, her voice becoming as ice. She also hated paying people, it was far more sensible to enslave them. Before taking leave of the Black Dragonflight, Sinestra was one of the highest in the pecking order, and was used to getting what she wanted, immediately, no arguments. And when she could stand Deathwing's incessant manipulations no longer, she kept this expectation. Everything existed for her to use as she saw fit. It was in the end the least she deserved for all the hell she has endured up to this point, and if any disagreed she was more than happy to take what she wanted by force.
"I don't know," Mytheria admitted, "I came because I felt your life ebbing away, I have been wandering this world in limbo ever since... that day."
"You mean the day that you threw your life away?" Sinestra sneered derisively.
"I know that my death, and the deaths of the others has weighed heavily on you over the millenia. Junaria, Irona, titans even Seraphia-"
"Do not say her name!" Sinestra roared with utter loathing, "That traitor deserved everything Deathwing did to her!" she turned angrily away from Mytheria, "And the only thing I lament about you Mytheria, is your idiocy! I told you to stay away from Him!"
Mytheria brushed off the hurtful insult with a soft huff, ruffling her wings as she stood straighter, "I went to my death seeking lord Neltharion, the mate that we all loved, but only truly loved you. I could not reconcile the caring Aspect I knew with the monster he became, I believed that there had to be something left of him, that the madness could be cured." her head dipped low, "I couldn't reach him."
"Because there was nothing there!" Sinestra snarled, wheeling around and fixing her golden eyes upon her deceased friend, "I loved that beast with all my heart, I bore his children for thousands of years! And he betrayed me! Betrayed us! He took the paradisaical world we created for ourselves and he burned it! He burned it until nothing of it remained but His laughter! You cannot save that which never existed in the first instance."
Mytheria stepped closer, "Where you see treachery, I saw only sickness my sister. A sickness that ran so deep, it befouled the elements themselves. It is the same sickness that I see in the members of our flight, as more slip into the Beyond." she shot a hard look at Sinestra, "You too are sick, sister. But I believe there is still hope for you."
Sinestra narrowed her eyes dangerously, "Is that why you come to me? To absolve me of my sins?" the black matriarch said mockingly, "This is the only path left to me Mytheria, all I have left is my vengeance, all that matters to me is vengeance. Even if it takes ten-thousand more years I will have satisfaction! Keep your hopes to yourself."
Then Mytheria did something Sinestra did not expect, she rushed forward and threw her forelimbs around her neck, hugging her. Sinestra was so shocked she couldn't even move, then Mytheria whispered to her, "My hope remains, sister. Because I will always have faith in you even if you have none. In life I always looked up to you as a friend, and as a source of succor; let me be those things for you now Sintharia, I will not abandon you."
Many things ran through Sinestra's mind in that instant; to violently lash out at the dragon who had dared to touch her, and the sudden urge to collapse into tears being foremost among them. But she could not move or act, for she was feeling something that she had not felt in ages; solidarity. Back when she was with the flight, she had been a loner. After what Deathwing had done to her, she had lost the ability to trust anyone but herself; it had been a harsh, cruel existence.
No.
This was not right; none of this was ever meant for her. She shrunk away from Mytheria's revoltingly comfortable embrace, a hard look entering her eyes. Mytheria returned her gaze with a sad expression. "I suppose it was too much to hope for; convincing you with just one conversation."
"I must stay true to my path!" Sinestra growled, reaffirming herself. Now was not the time to succumb to these weak emotions and sordid memories, "And neither you or the Titans themselves will make me flee from it! I will have Deathwing's life for what he has done to me, I will ruin him as he has ruined me!"
Mytheria bowed her head morosely, "It pains me to hear that," she said, "If that is your stance, I will take my leave of you for now. The one who holds your fate in his claws waits for you at the nesting chamber, you should go to him."
Before Sinestra could reply, Mytheria evaporated away like a summer mist. She was alone again. Hardening her heart, Sinestra proceeded into the cavern, guided by old memories.