章九

Chapter 9

Did you think you could escape me, whelp?

Neltharion shuddered, pressing his wings tightly against his back. He could feel the Intruder's hot breath upon his neck, the moistness of it's lips.

I cannot deny how much I enjoy our little game. The voice softened to a whisper. You can be such a tease, whelp.

He curled up, disgusted by the intruder's touch. A whimper escaped his jaws, tears cascading like a trickling brook down his sharp, black scales.

He felt the intruder pause. A tender tongue brushed his cheek, clearing the salty drops.

I would not have you weep.

He could feel the sincerity in the intruder's voice; it felt unexpected, out of character, though he could not explain why. The Intruder's obvious affection only fed his disquiet, even as its claws gently traced his sides.

He could not remember when he arrived, how he arrived. The only thing he could remember was first there was nothing, and then, there was this.

How could you think you could deprive yourself of our union? Not when you yearn for it. Not when you'd be incomplete, alone without it.

The intruder's lips found the nape of his neck, pressing upon the sharp scales between his wings. He scraped his talons across the hard floor, grimacing as the intruder curled his tongue around the edge of a scale. His muscles tensed, exhaling as the intruder pushed against him. A breathy, yearning moan escaped unbidden from his jaws, eyes half-lidded and unfocused. The intruder chuckled deeply.

Look upon me, little whelp, the intruder softly purred. Let me gaze into your eyes.

He tuned away from the intruder's gaze, eyes shut. A shift in weight was followed by the gentle stroke as the intruders forepaw brushed the side of his neck. He shuddered as the moistness of the intruder's tongue gently cleaned the base of his left horn.

Please…

The word whispered into his ear, a barely contained fire. He turned and found the intruder's burning eyes.

A weight lifted as the intruder slowly withdrew, a guiding touch gently rolling him over. He laid flat, looking up at the intruder's shadowy form. Talons combed through his beard.

"Please…" Neltharion pleaded in a soft, timid voice to the shadowy creature pinning him down. His pleads only further amused his captor.

What do you not wish for me to do? Do you not enjoy my company?

He could feel the playfulness in the Intruder's voice, but it masked a surprising undertone of hurt. The intruder's eyes broke away from his own, glancing down to linger fondly upon his form.

Your bulk is impressive, whelp. The Intruder's forepaw rose to rub the deep barrel of his chest. Quite beautiful.

The compliment threw him. His emotions knotted and frayed, his thoughts addled. His great chest heaved against the intruder's own. His tail curled around the other's. The intruder pinned him, their talons locking. He gripped back, his wings blanketing the both of them, neck folding to bring his head to rest on the intruder's shoulder. Another moan escaped, unabated, fueled by the intruder's motions. He retaliated with a light nip on the shoulder.

Ah, my sweet whelp, that felt…good…

He could feel the pleased rumble in the words through their contact.

He paused momentarily as a sense of wrongness asserted itself. That this was not something he should be enjoying. A gentle cup of the intruder's paw reached around his neck, dissipating the feeling as it rewarded him with a soft pat. He affectionately grazed a fang upon the intruder's neck, his insides quaking with the intruder's gentle thrum.

"Stop," He called. "Too…much…please…"

We are so close…

He bit his lip.

So very close…

A pulse drew tighter inside, building up more and more pressure. The peak was the fiery explosion of a volcano just awakening from dormancy. He called out, a tremendous bellow that shook the ground itself. His body could not contain it, and began to swell with the eruption. His back arched up as another aftershock took him for a ride, his form expanding with each crest of energy.

The blistering waves receded as the intruder withdrew. He felt a gentle peck upon the cheek, followed by the gentle grooming of the Intruder's soft tongue, taking time and care to each scale. He was too weak, too tired to resist the intruder's probing tongue.

He could feel the intruder withdrawal, his scales clean from the grooming. A distant chill nipped his awareness with a jolt.

Something was wrong with this situation.

There was a brush as the intruder laid down against his side, the gentle warmth and pressure a comforting presence.

He needed to go.

He rolled away from the touch. Placing his paws on the ground, he rose to his feet.

You wish to go? The intruder rumbled. It is not safe. The outside is a cold, lonely, unfriendly place.

A glance showed the intruder had not moved toward him. A note of concern graced it's features.

He stepped away from the intruder, and turned to find a path away.

A frozen wasteland filled his vision, empty and barren.

The cold struck like daggers, driving deep into his form. The previous warmth and energy vanished instantly, peeled away by howling winds. He recoiled from their blows, his tightly-wrapped wings no protection from their onslaught. A desperate look backward revealed nothing, the Intruder's location obscured by driven snow.

There was nothing.

He was nothing.

He stumbled back the way he came, a keening call of distress escaping without thought. Blinded, he did not see the dip in the terrain until he stumbled into it. The ground shook as he crashed onto his side.

His back bumped against a warm presence.

You are cold. You are hurt.

A paw reached over the rise of his chest and pulled backward, his shivering back coming to rest against the warmth of the Intruder's chest and stomach. Its wings draped like blankets over his form, warm breath against the back of his head.

The cold diminished, a pleasant warmth radiating into his form.

Are you sure you want to go?

He shuddered at the thought, pressing backward to meet the Intruder's warmth. It surged through him, chasing away the last of the cold. He relaxed at the comfort, surrendering to the embrace.

The satisfied look on the intruder's face went unnoticed as it pressed against him.

"Neltharion!" he heard a familiar voice scream, tearing him from the darkened nightmare. "Neltharion, wake up!"

His eyes popped painfully opened and he gasped as he shook himself awake. He found himself at the campsite where he, Anduin, and the Whitepaws had stopped at last night. He found himself lying in the middle of long furrows, his paws dug deeply into the soil. His lip was curled up into a snarl, though he could not remember what made it. Every muscle was knotted tightly under his scales. They looked swollen, threatened to rip the skin under the scales and rupture.

"Lord Neltharion!"

He turned to find Anduin shaking his flank. His face was pale, worry lines etched their way into his brow.

He moved slowly, gripping the ground as he attempted to rise, his muscles bulging against his tight scales. A rip tore through, a small release of heat gushing forth from the glowing fissure.

"Don't worry," said Anduin. "I can heal it."

"No, you'll burn yourself…" Neltharion whispered, raising a paw to his shoulder to cover the wound.

"I can do it from back here," said Anduin, moving safely away from the heat. "I don't need to touch you."

He watched as Anduin's hands glowed golden, calling upon the Light.

"Blessed Light, please…help my friend…" the prince whispered. "Grace him and heal him…"

He could feel the healing warmth seep into the wound. The pain slowly subsided and the large, oozing rip closed up. He lifted his other paw towards the excess dripping blood and pulled back, watching them cool, solidify, turn to black. They looked nothing more than rivets of harden obsidian draping over his arm like solidified wax. He brushed them off and they crumbled to black dust upon the ground. He lifted his eyes to Anduin, gratitude sparkled within them.

"What happened?" Anduin asked.

"I…must've had a really bad nightmare," Neltharion replied. The dragon turned back to the Whitepaws and his voice lowered to a soft whisper. "Listen, I'll tell you about it later…alright?"

Anduin looked to the Whitepaws as well, realizing what Neltharion had meant.

"Alright."

"What's the matter with him?" Lina asked as she stirred from her mat.

"He had a really bad nightmare," said Anduin.

"Must have been indigestion," said Neltharion. "Something I ate before coming here."

The dragon looked towards the sky as it cast its hazy ambient light. The mists were bright gray, scattering the light everywhere.

"Sun's up," he said. "Though you can't really tell with the mists in the way. I suppose that means the Den is safe to go in."

He motioned with a flick of his talon for Anduin to come a little closer.

"Do me a favor and braid…this thing," he said with a flick of an ebony and silvery lock. "If we're going to be fighting ghosts, I need to get this mess out of the way. And my fingers aren't…very nimble."

Anduin nodded as Neltharion straightened his neck, sitting up like a great cat. He curled his tail loosely about his legs. The prince took hold of the thick, long locks, parting it and began to braid.

"My dad sometimes gets me to do this for him too," he said. "Because he's got that messy ponytail of his."

He pinched the end tight and tore a piece of his silk gold and white tunic off to tie it. Then, he did the same for the other side, binding it up the same way. Now all that was loose was Neltharion's shaggy shorter layers.

"You know, I thought about cutting it as short as Malygos wore his," said Neltharion.

"Don't, that long beard of yours reminds me of King Magni's," said Anduin. "You should keep it long."

He let his hand slip and Neltharion sensed Anduin's thoughts.

"I…heard you watched Magni…become…what he is now…" he said.

"I do miss him," said Anduin. "He was a great teacher. You know, one of the reasons why I thought about getting to know you better was to ask a favor."

"Hmm?" Neltharion tilted his head. "What sort of favor?"

"Since you're the Earth-Warder," said Anduin. "I would think you could turn someone whose been petrified back to life. So, I wanted to know if you could revive Magni."

The Earth-Warder dipped his head with a heavy sigh.

"I don't know if I can," he said. "And I don't know if Magni would want me to. That ritual he performed was specifically designed to allow any Earthen to once more become one with the very minerals that brought them life. I'd think no less than the creator of the Earthen and I, Khaz'Goroth, could help him."

"You have Khaz'Goroth's powers," said Anduin. "Wouldn't that be good enough?"

"I…I don't k now," he said. "And I am afraid to try. I might make it worse rather than better."

Neltharion lifted a paw to rub Anduin's golden hair, messing the locks up.

"Don't be sad, he's not really dead," he said. "He just exists now in a different form. I can do the exact same thing, become one with the landscape."

"But you have the power to separate yourself if you want to, he doesn't. That's why I wanted to know if you could help him. And since the Ironforge incident…"

Neltharion rumbled and looked away, his heart lurching when Anduin mentioned Ironforge.

"I figured the best way to show the dwarves how sorry you were for the accident," Anduin said. "Is to bring back Magni Bronzebeard."

Neltharion softly rumbled, sending a small tremor through the ground. Behind him, Lina was moving towards her father, attempting to shake him awake.

"Father?" she said as Neltharion turned around. "Father?"

Anduin walked to her side and Lina looked upon him, her mouth opening and closing with worry.

"He's not waking up," she said.

"Let me check his pulse," said Anduin.

"Already checked," said Neltharion. "I can feel it through the rock. It's very…shallow."

Anduin placed his hand upon the old Pandaren's forehead.

"He's burning up," he said as his hands started to glow. The prince whispered softly.

"You both must get to the Den," said Lina. "Quickly. He may not last the day."

"I may have helped his fever," said Anduin as he backed away. "But not for long. Is there a creek anywhere near here…?"

"Beyond that rise," said Lina. "But I can't leave him here."

"You won't have to," said Neltharion as he nodded to one of his golems. "He'll get the water for you."

The golem trotted off for the creek. Neltharion turned back to Anduin.

"Okay, kid," he said. "Let's get some of this Sacred Water."

"And the scroll," said Lina. "Don't forget the scroll. Father said it was in the caverns."

Neltharion nodded and he and Anduin started down the hill. The Earth-Warder paused and looked back at Lina.

"Just tell the golem of any changes to Ren's health," he said. "I'll hear it through him."

"Yes," said Lina.

"Come on, Lord Neltharion," said Anduin.

The more distance they placed between themselves and the Whitepaws, the more Neltharion began to relax. Anduin turned back, his brow still heavy with his concern.

"So, what happened in your nightmare?" Anduin asked.

"I suppose it was more of a memory," said Neltharion. "Something stirred in my mind. Something that seemed wrong. I know it was wrong. I know what he was doing to me was wrong, but…it's hard to talk about without making me sound like I…enjoyed what he did."

He struggled to fight back a tear.

Anduin looked away: "I can't…imagine what that would be like…"

"I haven't had any of those…memories…before" he said, wiping a tear free from his cheek. "But I have had other memories. Three months ago I started having dreams, visions of this place and what lies beneath it. Anduin, there is something deeply wrong with Pandaria, something foul."

He paused right at the mouth of the cavern. He could hear the sour song again. It echoed through the rocks, the walls, the ceiling of the cavern. And something more…voices. They were wailing, crying. The pads of his paws began to ache. He hissed and lifted one of them up, the pain stinging his joints, rising and falling in tune to the voices. They were different from the sinister, mocking voices he heard before. That cadence dripped with its own discord, trapping their voices within its diminished harmonic chords.

"That sound I heard last night," Neltharion said. "The sound I hear right now. It was the same sound I heard on the beach…I heard it calling me from Azuremyst Isle. It brought me here."

"What is the sound you hear, Earth-Warder?" Anduin asked.

Neltharion slowly turned to the young prince, his eyes dull, his expression pensive.

"It is the song created by the Old Gods," he replied.

"Old Gods?" Anduin asked. "Are there Old Gods in Pandaria?"

"It sounds like it," said Neltharion. "But I can't tell. Something is off about it. It is their song but it sounds…fractured. Like each voice is a piece of some greater being, but forever apart from it. Anduin, there is something in the land. It's not the land itself. I didn't want to correct Ren. He said that Pandaria feels what you feel, reacts when you feel powerful emotions, especially negative ones. He's wrong. It's not Pandaria that reacts to us, its the Old God inside of Pandaria…or whatever is left of him."

He stared at the mouth of the cavern.

"The Pandaren may not have known what the truth really was," Neltharion said. "But they did see the result. It's why they say negative emotions are bad here."

"Northrend has an Old God, but it doesn't react like how Pandaria does."

"Each Old God has their own way of…torturing us," said Neltharion. "The negative emotions, the effects it brings to the land, it must be this Old God's particular fingerprint…his mark on Pandaria. Yogg-Saron corrupted the ancient World Tree in Northrend, seducing the Titan Watcher Loki. N'Zoth fed into Deathwing and corrupted the Emerald Dream. C'thun rallied supporters like Cho'Gall and the Shadow Council…the Twilight Hammers. Each is different, each does their own thing."

"So, which Old God is this one in Pandaria?"

"I don't know," said Neltharion. "My mind is a blank. Even when my amnesia has stripped me of most of my life experiences, I could still name many of the Old Gods that were imprisoned inside of Azeroth. But the knowledge of them given to me by Khaz'Goroth made no mention of an Old God at the south pole. There shouldn't be one. But…there is." His brow furrowed. "This is worrying me even more. An Old God that's not accounted for. I don't even know if it is an Old God. It sounds like one, but again…the fractured song. Like this Old God has more than one voice."

"It makes me wonder if you should call the other Aspects," said Anduin.

Neltharion snorted, a cloud of black ash puffed from his nostrils. He sneered, looking away from Anduin.

"Did I say something wrong?" Anduin asked.

"I…don't need their help," said Neltharion, his eyes narrowing, looking off to the distance. "Besides, I can't call them even if I wanted to." He returned his emerald gaze back to the prince. "The mists are blocking my…methods of communication. It's like what happens when you try to radio someone while stuck in a gorge. The signal won't get out."

"So…you're stuck here with no help from the others?"

"Basically," said Neltharion. He smiled, beaming with assurance. "Besides, I'm fine without them. They'll just…get hurt…" He pulled out in front, walking closer to the cave entrance. "I'm the toughest Aspect, right? I can take anything this little plot of land can dish out."

"If you say so."

"What, you don't have any confidence in me?"

"It's not that. It's…being stuck in a strange land with…possibly no way of returning home."

Neltharion rumbled and dipped his head.

"That," he said. "It's not all that bad. Besides, Anduin, the mists are thinning. Our current predicament isn't going to last long. Once the mists are down and I can call out, I'll contact an Alliance Earthen Ring shaman. They'll tell your father you're alright. Besides, this will be a great way of showing Varian you can take care of yourself. It'll prove to him you're confident and strong, and you don't need Papa Wolf around to keep an eye on you."

"Right," said Anduin.

Neltharion extended his right wing and threw it around the prince, drawing him closer.

"Don't doubt yourself," he said. "You heard the Whitepaws, it's one of those negative emotions you gotta avoid while being here. This continent eats doubt for breakfast…I suppose. Besides, you have me as your personal meat shield. And I make a good meat shield. Did Varian ever tell you about Garrosh's cannon…the one he fired on me when I came charging head first into Orgrimmar?"

"He did," said Anduin as they started walking inside the cave. "He said that the impacts left craters everywhere, but you weren't even harmed. Did it hurt…when he fired it on you?"

"Yes," said Neltharion. "It felt like someone punching me in the chest. But did it break anything? No. And with the lack of resources the Horde has right now, it may be a while before he can fix it or build another one."

Neltharion paused and lowered his wing, folding back to his side. He took a moment to look around at the cavern. The Den of Sorrow was set of various tunnels, each one smooth, lacking any sort of rock formation features. He came up to feel a wall with his paw and then leaned in to smell it.

"Sandstone," he said. "This is very strange. Normally caves in temperate climates are limestone caverns with stalagmites and stalactites of calcite growing all over them. This one's made out of sandstone, like the Caverns of Time. The wind carves the tunnels in the sandstone to create these smooth surfaces. And lack of groundwater means no features we all normally associate caves with."

He continued to feel around, tapping his talon, sending out vibrations to see what exactly it was in the walls.

"Even manmade tunnels, like mine shafts, would have the beginnings of calcite deposits," he continued. "There isn't any calcite in here. Guess this cave wouldn't make very good concrete. And I'm not picking up any fossils either. No dead animal remains, no coal made from ancient vegetation."

Neltharion turned back to Anduin.

"This cave isn't natural…the mountain it's sits under…it isn't natural either."

"Who made it?" Anduin asked.

"Best guess, the Titans," he replied. "The problem is this place doesn't have the usual features of what we see from the Titans. No structures left behind, or carvings along the wall, runes, or that sort of thing. The Caverns of Time isn't a natural land formation either. But it has the usual…Titan…stuff in it. Left over instructions or warnings. Nozdormu keeps a catalog of the stuff. This cavern does have a Titan feel of it, even without the usual artifacts. Structured. They love everything being structured. And I may have found where that scroll Ren wanted is located."

"Where is it?"

"It's at the end of the cave, next to one of the large pools of this Sacred Water he wants," said Neltharion. "There's pools of Sacred Water everywhere, but no means for the pools to be fed from the groundwater below. There's a huge slab of granite underneath the caverns. No water is bubbling up from that. Meaning someone must have brought the water here. It's at a specific temperature that keeps it from drying up. And the granite keeps the water from seeping into the sandstone."

"Well, let's go get the water, then," said Anduin as he started off.

"Anduin, wait!" Neltharion swiftly followed behind.

"The more we waste time, the closer to death Ren comes," said Anduin. "We have to hurry."

They rounded a corner with Anduin keeping a steady jog and Neltharion padding behind him.

"Anduin!" he called. "Wait! That noise I heard last night. It gets louder the deeper we go. We can't go rushing into this!"

"I'm not going to let a friend die," said Anduin. "Come on, Earth-Warder. We have to hurry."

"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" Neltharion asked.

"Now look who sounds doubtful," Anduin retorted with a smirk.

The deeper they delved, the louder the hollow sound from the cave floor grew. Neltharion paused to see inky blackness seeping out of the floor like gnarled vines rising to choke whatever was above them. The smell was horrible, suffocating stench, rancid and putrid. It smelled worse than rotted flesh mixed with feces of maggots.

Rising out of the mirk came formless shades with long, grasping hands and white eyes.

"Any plans, Earth-Warder?" Anduin asked.

Neltharion's eyes darted to each of the shades moving closer and closer to him.

"We don't have much time," Anduin said.

Neltharion closed his eyes, taking a beat to locate the closest pool through his Sight.

"Uh…the closest pool up and to the right," he said. "Let's just get it and get out."

"What about the scroll?"

"You get the water, and use those little feathers of yours to run out as fast as you can," said Neltharion. "I'll get the scroll."

He slammed his paw into the floor, sending a deep tremor rolling through. Springing out from the walls and the floor came his golems. Each golem took a position between the two and the spirits.

"Run," whispered Neltharion as he noticed the spirits moving towards the golems.

The moment they took off, the sound crescendoed. A black hand reached out from the ceiling, its gnarled fingers dared to rake across his neck, but all they did was pass harmlessly through him like vapor. What he felt though as the hand passed through was a chill, a bone cutting chill and a feeling of what the spirit once thought before it died, fear of the darkness that encroached upon it. He shivered from the etherial chill. As the world spun around him slowly Neltharion was frozen, his head s limp. Behind him, his golems turned as the spirits passed right through them like they were not even there.

Then, a flash of gold and the dragon turned. Behind him, the spirits were still, wrapped in golden light. Before him stood Anduin, confident and strong, waving his hands in the air as he muttered a silent prayer.

Neltharion watched as the spirits themselves were lifted up, the darkness cloaking their forms vanishing like a fog. Now what stood before him were ghostly, silvery, fish-looking humanoids dressed in long, draping robes. They silently bowed their heads in thanks to Anduin and then vanished.

He glanced back to Anduin, jaw gaping with astonishment.

"Been…doing your homework Velen sends you?" Neltharion asked which only made Anduin smile.

"Yes," he replied.

Neltharion leaned upon his haunches, bracing himself with his wings and clapped his paws. Then, he gave Anduin a thumbs up.

"Nice work."

"Thanks. Come on, we don't have much time."

"Well, I know I'm completely useless in this fight," said Neltharion. "They…just pass right through me without a scratch."

They started off again and Neltharion continued his voicing his worries.

"Worst part is, I don't think I can defend you in here," he said. "I can't touch them, they can't touch me."

Turning the corner, they came across a chamber bathed in turquoise light. Vines draped off of stony terraces and wrapped around carefully, carved columns. Above the pool was a statue, an effigy carved from green-stained limestone in the form of a graceful crane. Gold leaf, onyx, and jade frescos lined the sparkling pool of water at the center of the chamber, a symbol of the people who once lived here cherished this sacred place.

"This is it," said Anduin. "The Sacred Water. I can feel the…hallowed energies rising from the pool. This water…has been blessed."

Neltharion approached the water and leaned down to dip a single talon into the pool. He tasted a drop of the water. It was very refreshing, clean, clear. Sweet. Sweeter than sweet water. A calmness rose into his mind, serenity and stillness as he swallowed the water. Though there was one thing he could not identify, what the water was made of. Neltharion could usually tell if there were minerals in water toxins, salty brine. He could identify exactly what they were just by tasting it. This water, he could not. He had not tasted anything like it, at least not that he could remember.

"Neltharion?" Anduin asked as he opened his flask.

"Just checking the water," he said. "To see if…if it's safe for consumption."

He smiled softly and nodded.

"It seems safe. Hold the flask still.

Neltharion leaned back upon his haunches and rolled his paws. A ribbon of the crystal clear water rose up, tinkling and glittering. He turned towards Anduin and the water followed his motions, slowly slipping pass the rim of the flax. When every last drop had filled the flask, Anduin closed it up.

"Alright," said Neltharion. "Get moving, kid. I'll find the scroll."

"Be careful," said Anduin as he tossed out a feather spun in golden light. He swiftly ran upon the feather, it glowing brighter when his foot touched it. The prince darted off, his speed like lightning, trailing golden streams behind him. Neltharion was alone now, in this cave, and with the ghosts.

The scroll, he thought as he padded up through the winding tunnels.

As he passed through the connecting chambers of the Sacred Water, he took one glance back. Rising out from the floor, he could hear the discorded note binding the shadowy beings reaching out for him. He pushed on through, running as fast as he could to make it to the end. The closer he came, the more that sound rang in his head. He was reaching to the center of it, the heart of this torment in the cave.

At last his search had ended and he reached the zenith of the noise, the crescendo which brought him forth. The largest of the pools cast a glow of rich, azure light and sparkling golf flecks dance upon the surface. Hanging to the side of the pool, over a large column was a scroll written in Titan, but the dialect seemed rather off. Neltharion reached for it. As he touched it, he could feel an energy within the parchment, a shimmer of life that kept it safe from the decaying claws of time. It looked as if it were written only a second ago, a scent of fresh ink clung to it.

Carefully, he pulled up to his full height upon his hind legs, standing as straight and tall as he could. He braced himself with his wings, balancing his weight as his forepaws took hold of the scroll. Gently, he snatched it down and settled back to his haunches and tentatively rolled the scroll up, sealing it within its protective red case. He wrapped the gold rope around the case and tied it around his neck.

He heard a mournful cry and a shadow befell him. The shadow opened its white, blank eyes grasping his neck. The bite of the cold raced through every nerve and Neltharion yelped in shock.

"Let go of me," he said. "Let go."

He pulled away, turning for the pool of water behind him. The creature held fast to him. Seething under him, his strength was failing. Neltharion roared out and jerked his paw for the water. A watery whip lashed out from the pool to splash upon the shade. It reeled, tearing away from him, screaming a terrible sound.

A spark of enlightenment at last flashed in the Earth-Warder's eyes as he reached out again for the water, calling it forth in shifting, liquid tendrils. The tendrils cracked and sliced at the shade, only amplifying its cry as it shrank back. As the shade backed away from the watery tendrils, more shadowy claws reached out to take hold of Neltharion's legs. They crawled up his sides, gripping his wings. The watery tendrils splashed to the ground as his concentration broke by their chilling touch.

Neltharion cried out. One by one, the shades wrapped themselves around him.

We are in every breath you take…

We know your deepest thoughts…

We know your deepest secrets…

There is no where to hide…

Something putrid forced its way into his nostrils, tearing through to his mind. He had the strength to fight them, he knew he did, but his strength doubted itself. He could not fight them, no matter how hard he tried.

Give in. You will only torment yourself more if you fight.

He clawed at the fading light, reaching out for someone, anyone to hear him.

No one will save you…

His voice now failed him, stolen by the shadows. He laid upon his back, still reaching out. The putrid, inky black talons continued to rip away inside, unhindered by the Earth-Warder's strength.

Something warm, something friendly, something comforting reached out to grab his black claw. A face, friendly, cheerful, smiling filled his vision. A Pandaren dressed in fine, white robes lined in black. Around his shoulders was a sash of canary yellow, shimmering like silk.

You are not alone, old friend. Take my hand.

His claw grasped the Pandaren's paw and Neltharion could feel a renewed strength within him. The Pandaren pulled him out of the darkness and back into the light.

Neltharion was awake, his eyes wide. He turned towards the shades, the larger shade standing behind them. Taking a deep breath, he formed a broad circle with his paw, as if he were scooping up the air. The Sacred Water behind him bowed upward, forming into a tall wave. Then, the water glowed golden, the radiance brightened the chamber like sunlight. The shades squealed as they backed away. Neltharion closed his eyes and took in a deep breath as the wave behind him build. Wind whipped about his neck, his beard flowing around him. Then, he opened his eyes again, they were glowing as bright as the water behind him.

Embrace the light…

The wave crashed down upon the shades, catching them in its turbulence. All around them was sunshine, seeping into them, ripping away that which cursed them. The grime washed from their forms, the shadow scrubbed clean, revealing them. As the water flowed away, there they were, standing, fish looking people with silvery scales and white robes. They bowed at Neltharion and he returned their gesture. One by one, the spirits faded away, at last allowed to be free of their prison.

Yet one remained. Standing before him was a Pandaren dressed in a white tunic with a red sash. He was a spirit, like the others. The Pandaren's fur was white mixed with silver, and growing darker as it reached his paws. He was the larger shade that Neltharion had fought. He lingered on, his eyes wide. Slowly he approached Neltharion and reached out for him.

"It can't be," he said. "Earth-Warder…Neltharion…is that you?"