I spent most of our time at sea sleeping or enjoying the pleasure of Nyssa and the rangers company while I waited for my thoughts to grow less conflicted.
I had absorbed the whelp I once was to grant myself will, and a natural connection to my own flesh.
Three sets of memories, even if one was only a child, was still difficult to processs.
Thoughts for the first few weeks came out jumbled and conflicting, often forcing me to take several minutes just to decide the right way to walk about my ship.
Things like sex where easier, instinct and urge coming together much more naturally than my thoughts were.
It was different than when I had first merged with Felendren.
Whatever force that brought Rick and Felendren together had focused on binding them tightly into the same frame of mind.
It seems the merge somewhat loosened that binding, leaving four separate, but interconnected beings.
The dragon, Rick, Felendren, and what we were becoming.
We spent several weeks coming to that conclusion. It was decided the most apt way to solve the problem was to form an identity to unify behind.
The dragon we were supposed to be would have to be the dominant force, its inctincts and natural control over the body neccassary for future success.
Ricks ambition, and imagination was to be reinforced by Felendren's talent in magic.
The combined memories and experience of the two ambitious mortals where piled behind the dragons already impressive will, giving it the foundation it needed to grow.
Nothing was discarded or left to waste. Everything had a place in the being, carefully selected by the shadow of each soul under the unified pretense of ambition, power, and magic.
Much argument was had over every detail, from how much was to be focused on personal and political power, to when foes would be challenged.
Eventually an accord was struck, and three souls grew closer, my thoughts breaking into seperate directions less and less as time went on.
A name was decided, the personification of our unity. A dragons name, to represent both what I am, and what the whelp I once was never had.
"Malius". I whispered to my self. Dark son in the green dragon dialect. A taunt to those who abandoned me.
The moment I said it I felt the change, draconic names have power. To say a dragons name invoked them, they could feel the call from across the world if it was done right.
That was probably how Oxynia had been revealed, and ultimately killed. Someone who knew the truth called out to her, and unable to control herself she took her true form right in the middle of Stormwind.
It had been nearly a year and a half since I had a name that was honestly my own. It felt good. More than good in fact.
I never realized how much I needed a proper identity until now.
It all clicked into place moments later, the misshapen puzzle pieces of my soul coming together fully. I took my first breath, taking in the ocean air.
I walked forward, my steps taken without conflict or disarray as I approached the side of my ship. I laughed, the world seeming so much clearer.
My nose twitched at the smell of death, and the sound of ocean birds in the distance. We were close.
My old home of Quel'Thalas was so close I could smell the magic in the air.
"Drop Anchor and ready the boats!"
The darkened, cloudy sky and death on the air meant we were just out of sight of the Ghostlands. Good.
This was not a diplomatic mission, though I'm sure the Elves will appreciate the end result of our actions over the coming days.
The zombies were left on the ship, and the neutral trade flag common among pirates and goblin traders was taken down as every magic user I had boarded several row boats.
I had first hunt, Nyssa and the gnolls on my ship, while the others boarded in separate groups. We rowed towards the distant shadow of land, where I knew only the undead awaited us.
The undead had probably been pushed completely out of Eversong, leaving the Sin'Dorei to rebuild their lands, but also giving the undead a chance to dig in and gather their forces.
If the scourge was smart they also sent several dozen necromancers and a couple thousand of the more advanced undead as reinforcements from the Plaguelands.
The province itself was probably far more dangerous than it was the last time I had been here, but then so was I.
We were here to conduct a ritual that would stabilize my body, and give me the strength to overpower the horrors of this world.
With this small group of thirty magic casters I was going to wage war on the Scourge, test my power against real threats, and finally ascend into real strength.
I had been holding back on truly using my magic at the risk of accelerating my own destruction, but now that I was here there was nothing to lose.
I would either find what I was looking for, or lose what I had built. I was excited, I could feel my inscriptions burn as I readied my magic.
We reached the shore nearly an hour later, and I killed the undead murlocs who charged out at us with a wave of my hand and a blast of felfire.
I rolled my shoulders, ignoring the pain that came up to greet my use of magic.
I was going to burn this whole fucking world down.