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"My destiny is of my own making." Speech.

"I remember the time..." Flashback speech. Spellcraft.

"When your people huddled in caves I was there." Greater being speech.

"█▄██▄▄█▄▄█▄" Inarticulate roar/scream etc.

XxxXxxXxxX

Previously:

'A Week?! Elune's Tears! Mother is going to skin me alive.' He mentally cried; already mentally conjuring the image of the monstrous form of his mother waiting at home, darkness in her eyes.

"Come, Lunara will bring you your things; including that wondrous seed you created and escort you home. Perhaps during the trip you can make up for what wrong you have done to her."

Harry narrowed his eyes and glared up at his mentor. "Wrong I have done? I haven't done an Elune Damned thing!"

Cenarius just smiled before shaking his head as he turned and walked off. "Ah my dear naive Har'rin. You will learn, in time, that in matters like this. It is always your fault."

XxxXxxXxxX

-15,550 D.P

For almost one hundred and eighty years, ever since the first-born daughter of Cenarius had walked with him back to the borders of Suramar after their first meeting; Harry and Lunara had been nigh inseparable.

He had taken the time it took to travel from the Grove of Cenarius back to his home of Suramar to explain what he had done to create the seed that had grown into an immortal flower he had dubbed 'Elune's Grace'; a flower that would bloom for ten months out of the year only to die and be reborn anew. His mother had loved it.

Lunara had been in awe at his reasoning behind the theory and possible application he had described that had lead him to create the ritual she had been lucky enough to bear witness to.

After that she had calmed down and forgiven him.

Since then, and after the punishment his mother Salaenia had enforced upon him for worrying her for that passed week, he spent nearly every moment that he wasn't training with Cenarius exploring and playing with the shining light that was Lunara. More often than not she even intruded upon his lessons and sat in to learn alongside him. Something that Cenarius himself had put in a valiant attempt not to smile at and poke fun at the oblivious Harry for.

Together, with Harry in his druidic form of a Nightsaber, the unlikely pair of Night Elf and Dryad had explored across nearly the entire length and breadth of Azeroth.

They had visited the sacred mountain of Hyjal; the birthplace of the Kaldorei people. Spied on the Pandaran people in the Vale of Eternal Blossoms to the south. They had even sneaked their way passed the Highborne security perimeter to sit at the shores of the Well of Eternity itself to watch the sun set on its waters.

Together the pair had planned on exploring the Emerald Dream itself as their next adventure; Lunara wanting to show him his homeland as it was before his people had developed their vast and majestic cities. However the beautiful Dryad had been unable to take him into the dream due to needing to tend to her own responsibilities that she had been neglecting as of late for some unknown (only to him) reason.

Out of the desire not to ruin the outing that she had planned for them both; Harry had chosen not to explore the Dream on his own. Well, that and he was not all that keen on the ever present risk of becoming lost within the Dream's labyrinthian levels and regions.

So instead; the young Kaldorei had decided to travel to the far south-east of Azeroth; to visit the an almost whispered legend of a land formation known as the 'Valley of Songs;' a canyon with natural cave and rock formations set in such a way that when the wind passed through them it produced a musical sound unlike any other.

Now this adventure that he was undertaking was not without considerable risk. Visiting the Valley of Songs put him in a near uncomfortable close proximity to Zul'Gurub; the seat of power to the Gurubashi Troll Empire. Bad enough that the valley itself was within their still tightly held territory, but to willingly travel close to that city of Elf-devouring cannibals? Harry could not think of a more idiotic thing. Unfortunately; childish impulse, curiosity and wanderlust won over simple fear and bed time stories of evil, bloodthirsty Trolls.

Naturally he had told his mother nothing. If she were to ever learn of his plans for this she would have him shackled to one of the Temple's pillars and placed under heavy guard by the Temple Sentinels while she gives him a three day long lecture and scolding on how stupid he was being.

When he had left Suramar he had to hide any sign of his intended destination from his mother, and countless others lest his mother ultimately find out. To this end he had spent several days prior to his departure sneaking supplies and equipment out of the city and hiding it in a rock formation several hours beyond the city walls heading toward Val'Sharah.

All he had to do on the day he had finally left the city to set out on his little adventure was to dress in his usual attire of plain brown pants and worn, sleeveless tunic and leave the city as leave as if it were a normal day with him heading for the Grove of Cenarius. When he was well out of the prying eyes of the Suramar Sentries and the senses of the cities Arcane defenses, he made for the rock formation where he had hidden his supplies and equip himself.

In moments he had changed from his usual light attire and into a pair of dark leather pants and boots with a matching leather jerkin and bracers covering his chest, arms and wrists. A hunting bow and quiver of arrows in addition to his hunting knife saw him somewhat comfortably armed and with a satchel filled with antidotes, healing salves, a water skin and rations he was ready to do.

Thankfully his equipment was a nonissue when Druidic shapeshifting was involved as he was able to shift into his Nightsaber form with all of his arms and supplies shifting with him.

It took almost a full day to properly leave the Suramar area; making sure to take a wide detour around the capital before finally heading off in the correct direction toward his actual destination.

The journey was long. Well over a week as he navigated across the country side and woodland of the Kaldorei Empire. He took his time, slowing down and sometimes outright stopping to take in the sights and admire the scenery. He had felt a smile cross his face when he passed by a patch of farmland belonging to a small Elven community and watched as a mother taught her daughter how to use a bow and laughed when he saw a father being tackled to the ground by his own children.

It was peaceful. Picturesque.

There were a few wandering Ancients that crossed his path as he neared the border that separated the Kaldorei and Gurubashi territories; one Ancient of Lore had taken the time to regale him with a story of the distant past when the dragon children of the terrible calamity Galakrond soared the skies, scorching the earth with their fires that had resulted in the lush forestry that had grown in the place of such devastation.

It was when he finally crossed the border that things became, much less lighthearted. The border had taken some time to cross with the frequent patrols keeping a vigilant watch; ever protecting the Elven people from the Troll menace. Harry had been forced to spend some time watching his kin to find a pattern to predict an opening for him to sneak through. It was in the waking hours of morning, when the sun had just breached the horizon that he had been able to cross; when the patrols were at their most lax and bracing themselves for the coming daylight.

After that, well, the tension never left him after he truly entered Troll territory.

It was, not quite terrifying as he sneaked through tall grass and flitted through trees, but rather nerve racking; to think that as far as he could determine any tree, any shrub or rock could conceal a lurking Troll just waiting to run him through.

Thankfully there was no such instance. However it was no comfort, in fact it made things worse.

It was the silence. The all encompassing silence that sat with him as wrong. He could hear no birds, no critters, nothing. Not even through the Emerald Dream could he feel any wildlife. It was wrong.

For several hours Harry kept low to the ground, muscles twitching under his fur as his eyes darting from one shadow to the next and the next. His senses screaming at him 'wrongwrongWRONG!'. The wind no longer brushed through the trees, scattering light through gently moving leaves. The air no longer felt cool and crisp; instead taking a humid, sweltering feel.

Was this what it felt like to live within the dominion of the Trolls? Were they that evil, that fundamentally wrong to the world that life itself became unable to thrive in joy?

But that then led to another thought. The Valley of Songs. Its legend may have reached the Kaldorei but it had always existed deep within the territory of the Trolls. Even millennia ago before the rise of his people when the Trolls dominated the full length and breadth of Azeroth the Valley had sat within their dominion. Was it a trap then? A dollop of sweet, sweet honey set to lure in reckless youth such as him only to be slaughtered by Headhunters? Perhaps as a macabre rite of adulthood for the Trolls.

Harry's eyes quickly filled with several differing yet similar emotions. Panic. Fear. Paranoia. His body shook with tension as every subtle shift in light, every shadow saw him flinch as fight or flight hammered within him like a great drum.

And then he could smell it.

Blood.

Faint, almost undetectable beneath the prevailing, muted scents of the grass and trees. But still there. As he crept closer, his own will and drive preventing him from just fleeing back to safety, the smell grew stronger. More potent. It soon overpowered the natural scents of the wilds and after nearly an hour of progress it almost felt like it was caked on like dried mud.

The sunlight too had changed, shifting on a ever matching coloring as the scent of blood had grown stronger. By now the beams of sunlight filtering through the motionless tree canopy were like pillars of crimson.

A moment later and he stopped in his tracks, eyes widening as a fresh wave of fear washed over him when he felt one of his forepaws come down on and into a pool of something thick and sticky. Almost reluctantly he looked down and bit down the yowl of fright when he saw that he had just stepped in a large pool of darkened blood. The thick fluid coating fur and dripping down his claws. The pool stretched out, leading to a thick trail of blood as if the former owner of said blood had dragged itself away. Several feet ahead, slumped against a large tree with the broken shaft of a crude spear still impaled through what was left of a chest, lay a Troll.

This time Harry did make a noise. He could not stop the squeak of fright that passed through his maw at the sight of the large nearly eight foot tall blue skinned Troll with large serrated tusks laying there, eyes glassed over in death with an expression of unrestrained fear and pain etched on its face. The Troll's chest was nearly completely torn apart, as if its attacker had impaled the spear into the Troll only remove it and repeat the action several more times. That this unfortunate creature had been able to pull itself out of the massive pool of blood and drag itself several feet and to prop up against the trunk of a tree with the broken off spear still embedded in its chest spoke leagues of the willpower the Troll possessed.

It took a great deal of his own will just to tear his horrified gaze from the Troll and move on. He had long since moved beyond mere 'fight or flight'. Now well into the flight part of instincts with ever part of him telling him to run and not to stop until he was safe home in Suramar.

Run. Run away Har'rin Whisperwind.

And yet, he could not. He could not understand why, but he felt this need, this undeniable urge to keep going. To not turn and run, to not flee from the blood and death in the air. Go further. Explore more. See and discover.

There were several more corpses to follow as he passed by. Each and every one torn apart with broken weapons scattered as if they had been discarded without care by whomever had brought such death. And then, the forestry cleared. And his goal; the Valley of Songs stretched out before him.

It was horrifying.

Even in his Nightsaber form, Harry felt himself pale and an overwhelming sense of sadness wash over him as his eyes met what could only now be called the Valley of Death. Bodies, beyond number, beyond sight stretched out across the slopes and floor of the valley, staining grass and rivers red. It seemed more like a mass grave than anything else. The sheer number of Troll bodies that littered the shallow canyon went far beyond that of any battleground or massacre. This defied the very limits of the idea of a 'slaughter'. Each body was just as brutalised as the last and made the ones he had passed by in the forest behind him seem almost merciful in comparison. Limbs were scattered; severed and in some cases brutally torn from bodies. Heads split in two, torso's left with gaping holes.

'What could have done this?'

"Dis be de work of no mortal creature little Elf."

Harry nearly collapsed as he felt his heart actually stop beating for a moment at the thick, rough voice that spoke out to his left. He turned quickly, flexing his claws out and crouching low to the ground defensively when his eyes found that of the massive nine foot tall Troll that stood there, peering down at him with glowing yellow eyes.

It was the first time he had ever seen a Zandalari Troll in person; having previously only seen carvings and crude drawings from the stories of the Unification, when Queen Azshara had united their people against the Trolls to create the great Eternal Empire that was the Kaldorei. To see this Troll before him; the drawings did no justice.

Nine feet in height with stony blue skin marked with patches of hard scales at the forehead and shoulders. This Troll had two large curved tusks jutting out from the corners of his mouth decorated with golden bands and long black hair that was tied up into a top-knot with two lengths of braided hair that were draped over his shoulders and down his chest. His powerfully muscled arms were marked with bright gold tribal tattoos that themselves seemed to pulse with power. Clothing the powerful creature was a black and grey bone and leather skirt with gold embellishments of skulls and admittedly beautiful depictions of various beasts, a pair of shin guards and wrist bracers of matching materials and coloring and a pair of spaulders covering his shoulders with large blue and yellow feathers decorating them. Held in a single powerful, three fingered hand was a large, thick gold and white bone staff with a large golden ring with feathers and stone fetishes hanging from it.

"Calm yeself little Elf. Dis one mean ya no harm." The Troll raised an open hand in the air, seeing the defensive stance Harry had taken. "Da Loa be tellin' me dat you be comin' to dis place."

Harry didn't relax. Everything was still screaming at him to run. Run away and not get eaten by the savage Trolls. He didn't want his blood to be added to this nightmare. But, he couldn't. His body wouldn't move to respond to his fear.

"Me name be Sa'Shiket and I be a Priest of de Mighty Loa; Lukou." The Troll; Sa'Shiket introduced with a bow of his head toward him. "Lukou be sendin' me a vision of dis here Valley. Da evil and death spilled here. I be called to dis place to fix dis mess. To stop da Evil One from continuing dis here atrocity. But I cannot do dis alone so Lukou be tellin' me dat she be sendin' an ally me way. A protector to fight against dis evil and help fix de land."

Harry called upon the Emerald Dream; pulling what he could through the thick, soup-like veil that was imposed between reality and the mystical realm. He was hearing what this Troll, this Sa'Shiket was saying, it was just that he was having difficulty believing him considering the racial tension and oft outright hatred that existed between their two people. It was more likely that Sa'Shiket was trying to trick him.

The Priest seemed to noticed this and his shoulders slumped as a powerful sigh passed through him, in resigned frustration. "Ya do not believe me do ya? I cannot truly blame ya for it. True dere be no love lost between me kin and de Elves. But de enemy dis day be not Troll nor Elf. It be sometin far more terrible. Sometin dat wishes to get into dis place and cover de whole world in blood."

"De Loa of Blood; Hakkar."

A flinch shuddered through Harry's body at this. The very name of this entity filling him with a profound sense of dread. He remembered in the days before he had been taken as a student under Shand'o Cenarius that his friends who had studied the arcane had told him of their lessons regarding Words and the power associated with them. He hadn't put much thought into it to be honest, especially considering that there was not much connection between words and the druidic powers of the Emerald Dream. But this, this word. This Name. It was not simply a powerful word of even a word of power. It WAS power. And a terrible, monstrous power at that.

Letting the gathered energies of the Dream lessen in his body, Harry took a chance and stood up, his form shifting as the Nightsaber receded and the Night Elf returned. His own nearly eight foot tall frame still smaller than the giant muscled Troll before him. A nervous sweat gave his purple skin a sheen as he licked his lips nervously, feeling dry mouthed as he finally gained some headway in forcing his fear to take a step back.

"The Trolls follow these Loa? I mean they are your gods?" Harry finally asked, denying to himself that his voice had squeaked a bit at first.

Sa'Shiket nodded and explained. "It be fair to say. De Loa be great spirits dat live in dis world and worlds beyond. Dey guide de Trolls and speak only to deir chosen."

Harry nodded slowly as his eyes narrowed in thought. Not much was really know about the Trolls to the every day Night Elf. Sure it was most likely that the Highborne of Zin-Azshari knew all there was to know about the old enemy, but to people like Harry, they knew only the basics of their more terrible behaviors.

"If you follow your Loa then why would you oppose this, this Loa of Blood." Harry hesitated, not wanting to repeat the terrible name from before. "I would think that you would follow it rather than oppose."

Sa'Shiket showed the first sign of overt emotion when a scowl of anger and disgust crossed his face. "De answer to dat be a dark part of Troll history little Elf. It was before even da Queen Elf of ye's broke apart the Troll Empires. A foolish Troll dat was removed from de histories of me people was de first to commune with the Loa Hakkar." Harry shuddered again. "Dis Loa was a tricky one. He wanted to be summoned into dis world and almost was. But de influence of his presence was a sickness, de same as what you see here in dis place. So de King and his mightiest warriors stopped de summoning. And in dis de Soulflayer punished us all. Wid a terrible blood plague."

Harrys' expression fell, feeling a sympathetic pain and pity for the emotion that the Troll was clearly showing. Even thousands of years of time to separate the event itself and Sa'Shiket himself and the priest still spoke of it as if the memory was fresh to his minds eye.

"Thousands perished to dis plague and from dat moment all of Zandalar swore dat we would never allow dat demon to enter dis world." Sa'Shiket paused to turn his gaze from the young elf before him to look out at the corpse filled valley, his yellow eyes glazing over with unshed tears. "And now, dat vow may be broken."

"And you need my help."

Sa'Shiket nodded resolutely. "I not be a fighter. As a priest of de Loa Lukou I be a healer."

"I'm not really a fighter either if we're being honest here." Harry confessed. "Compared to my own people I'm still just a child. I haven't even finished my training under my teacher."

Sa'Shiket gave a large grin, sharpened teeth glinting dangerously. "Even de mightiest of warriors once was a child. Untested. De Loa see da power widin' you. De Whisper of de Wind. Great Lukou guided me here to dis place, to you to stop de summoning of de Loa of Blood. Just as you were brought to dis place to see de fate dat awaits dis world if we fail."

It was, with some reluctance, something Harry could not really refute. He had always believed in a Higher power being raised in the Temple. Learning under Cenarius; hearing the stories of the other Wild Gods of Azeroth, the Dragon Aspects and even meeting more than a few of the Ancient Guardians himself. He could not simply disregard this devout Troll as a madman and claim his Loa to be false. And looking at the death that surrounded him, the blood that painted nearly every square inch of the valley floor; there was something terrible at work here and through the knowledge of the Troll Priest Sa'Shiket it had a name.

Hakkar the Soulflayer.

Harry squared his shoulders, pulling in the power of the Emerald Dream to him and letting it fill every pore of his body; sparks of emerald flickering at his fingertips as his eyes pulsed with power. "Then how can I help you?"

XxxX

Sa'Shiket had thankfully escorted Harry away from the Valley after the pair had solidified their alliance. The Troll had been quite happy to hear his agreement to the Loa given task of stopping the Blood God. In fact Harry's ears were still ringing from the powerful slap the Troll had given him on the back as he thanked him.

Proper introductions were made and Sa'Shiket had explained to him the primary concern and threat they were to face that was the source of the massacre that had transformed the former Valley of Songs into the now aptly named Valley of Silence.

A cult. Gurubashi Trolls that had left the Troll city of Zul'Gurub to worship Hakkar in all his 'glory.' with the blessings of the Soulflayer running through them these cultists were berserk, bloodthirsty savages; driven mad by a murderous rage and dark desire for blood. They were seemingly immune to physical pain as their fervour for their god pushed them to instead find a mad joy in the spilling of their own blood.

The unfortunate Trolls that had been slaughtered in the Valley had been the victims of a massive raid on a number of nearby villages that the cultists had raided; kidnapping every inhabitant and bringing them to the valley for sacrifice.

It was unlikely that even with the sizeable boost in power Hakkar would have gained from feeding on such bloodshed and worship from his thralls would be enough to stage an attack on Zul'Gurub itself, but there still was the threat that another, smaller, city could be attacked and used as the site to bring forth the wicked Loa.

Harry had since returned to his Nightsaber form; favoring the enhanced senses afforded to the form to track the trail of the Cultists with Sa'Shiket allowing him the lead in directing the hunt. Despite the savage temperament that these Cultists were now in it seemed that they were still in possession of enough sense to not leave any obvious trail in their wake. There were no footprints in the earth, no broken branches that had snapped by their passage. Not even a drop of blood left behind. The only thing to follow. Was the smell.

That putrid smell of old, clotted blood that hung in the air almost like a smoke to his nose. It took some actual effort for Harry to force himself not to gag and retch at it.

Progress was slow. The scent that was the Cultists trail was partially obscured by the dark miasma that had formed around the Valley from Hakkar's presence which forced Harry to make periodic stops to separate what was Cultist blood and the Miasma of Hakkar.

Thankfully Sa'Shiket did not pressure him for his slow pace. The Troll Priest seemed to understand the slow pacing and understand the uncertainty that Harry felt with his youth. The was no denying that the Night Elf was several centuries older than the Trolls mere forty-six years but the Troll had already taken his place in his society. He had been tested and proven himself. Harry had not. He did not have the experience or the self confidence to lead and it showed in his almost hesitant approach in tracking.

It was a vastly different experience than he expected it to be. As a child even Harry was not above fantasising life as a sorcerer or a warrior or a hunter with his childhood friends. They played their games in the streets of Suramar; the most popular of which had been 'Unity'; a form of city wide tag where they would divide into two sides or 'factions', one side representing the Army of Azshara while the other played the part of the Savage Trolls. Harry had enjoyed the game; hunting the other side and trying to catch them.

The reality; to actually be out in a hostile wilderness hunting down real Trolls with the real threat of death, it was not even close. And it surprised Harry how comfortable he was with it. Challenging? sure. Slightly terrifying? Most definitely. But ill-fitting? Not at all.

It took several hours of tracking and many more miles of distance from the Valley of Death for the blood filled miasma that the massacre had summoned to dissipate and completely fade away. With the interference gone Harry's connection to the Emerald Dream restored itself and strengthened the form he had taken. It did make the tracking slightly easier, the ever fading scent of blood easier to follow with his nose, but it didn't help him increase his pace enough to close ground.

"De scent, it is growing weaker?"

Harry looked up to the massive troll, not all that surprised that the priest had picked up on his concern. The form of a Nightsaber he may be in, it did not mean that his body language did not still carry sentient indicators. Sa'Shiket looked to have picked up on his frustration.

He nodded his head in response, maintaining his focus on the path ahead and the coppery odor in the air.

"So we be losing ground den." Sa'Shiket mused aloud, not seeming to be too disappointed with the young Night Elf with the development. The Troll understood that it was to be expected. Here the two were trying to track an invisible trail of an adversary that was most likely travelling at speed. "By me guess we be heading south, away from de Gurubashi capital. With de Pandaran's to de west and me own to de north-west dere not be many places dat would be safe for dese beasties."

Harry nodded in agreement. From his own studies in the geography of the continent Sa'Shiket was correct. Whatever the extent the Gurubashi tribes had diminished since the rise of his own people they were still an obstacle these cultists would not wish to draw the attention of, even in their bloodthirsty mindsets. The kingdom of Pandaria was according to to records known to have fought against the full might of the Troll empires before the rise of the Kaldorei and they were still as strong as ever in their isolation.

Where would these cultists go? Assuming that they intended on summoning this Dark Loa into the world they would need an isolated area to perform what would doubtlessly a powerful ritual. Isolated, not easily accessible…

Harry let out a frustrated growl, swiping a clawed paw at the ground and carving a set of deep gouges into a large stone. The scent was still fading and he couldn't even hope to predict their path. If only Hakkar's influence didn't have such an effect on the Emerald Dream, then he could-

With a jolt Harry practically exploded out of his Nightsaber form, returning to his true, elven form and slapped a hand over his forehead, swearing in realisation and annoyance that he hadn't figured it out sooner.

The Emerald Dream.

Hakkar's presence. The very act of his cultists doing the Loa's bidding and spilling blood in his name; it limited the Dream, acted as a barrier between it and Azeroth. With the Emerald Dream permeating every inch of the Azeroth itself; land, air and sea any area of Azeroth that these cultists were congregating and acting out their worship of this demon would be noticeable through the Emerald Dream not by its presence, but by its absence.

"You have an idea Whisperwind?"

Harry furrowed his brow and nodded slowly, running through the details in his head and any complications, limitations or other concerns he would need to confront and possibly deal with.

"As a Druid, I can spiritually enter the realm of the Emerald Dream; it is a primordial of natural energy and dreams of Azeroth before the birth of all races."

Sa'Shiket nodded in understanding. There were shamans within his own people that had begun exploration into the path of Druidism and had spoken of glimpses at such a place.

"This Loa that the cultists are following has a profound effect on the connection between this world and the Dream. it's almost like a thick curtain that further separates the two." Harry continued, drawing power from the Dream and casting his senses out, searching for any potential threats that would pose a danger to him when he left his body. "If I enter the Dream it should be a great deal easier to track down not only the path of these fanatics but locate their destination based on the effect this blood haze is having."

The Priests eyes widened and an expression of respect and astonishment came across him as he regarded the smaller Elf. "Den it is no wonder de Loa wanted for us to be de ones to stop dis evil. What do ya need?"

Harry paused at this. What did he need? He needed to trust the Troll. When he entered the Dream it would be only his spirit that made the journey. His physical body would remain behind and in the protection of the very being that his people were taught were savage monsters that dreamed of nothing but the destruction of Kaldorei civilisation.

"I, I need you to keep me safe." Harry swallowed his fears. This, what they were doing was something larger than petty racial tensions. Hakkar was a real and dangerous threat to Azeroth as a whole. He could not afford to hold to mere stories. Not with this.

"I will enter the Dream, search for the trail there and use it as a heading to look for the void this Loa and his followers have created. While I am there my body will be vulnerable, I will need to place my trust in you to keep my body safe."

Sa'Shiket squared his shoulders, a fierce and resolute expression taking over him as he recognised the magnitude of what was being asked of him. Understanding and feeling no small measure of honor that a Kaldorei was placing ultimate trust in him. To wilfully expose and place his life in the hands of what his own people had raised him to believe was an enemy.

"What about threats within da dream itself?" The Priest asked. "Does dat realm hold any of de dangers dat dis one has?"

Harry shrugged. "It can be a dangerous place sure, but not in the same manner as Azeroth. The main fear is losing ones way there. It is a near endless realm with countless layers of possibilities and dreams. However it is a risk that is non-applicable for this as I am entering with a clear goal in mind that does require exploration and then the risk of becoming lost."

The Troll nodded, watching as Har'rin Whisperwind eased himself to the ground, crossing his legs and settling into a comfortable position on a thick patch of grass at the roots of a sizeable tree. A faint green glow had come over the elf and Sa'Shiket's eyes widened a fraction as he saw the roots of the tree shift, growing to circle the elf almost gently and the grass grow slightly with wild flowers blooming.

Harry closed his eyes slowly, pulling more and more power from the dream as he formed within his very being the path that would take him from his mortal flesh and to the Emerald Dream.

"I cannot tell how long it will take me. But with luck, I shouldn't be long."

XxxX

Thankfully, Harry was right. Upon entrance into the Emerald Dream he almost immediately sighted the lingering emptiness left behind by the cultists as they had passed through Azeroth. In this topmost layer of the Emerald Dream the effect the Soulflayer had taken on the material plane was clear to see. From his vantage point it was clear and horrifying to see where the Valley of Songs had once resided. It was now a black chasm that the Emerald Dream was trying to fill. There were a few of Ysera's children there, aiding the Dream in removing the void and repairing the damage done but from his own sight and senses, it was very slow going.

Back to his own task, Harry could see the path that he had been trying to follow in the material plane. Not a smell here, the trail was visual, like a long, thin gouge within the dream that travelled from the Void-Valley in the distance behind him and cutting along the Dreamscape and off into the distance. Already now the void-scar was being filled back in, the Dream having no difficulty restoring such a small aberration.

The form of Sa'Shiket and his own body were like ghosts to his eyes as he passed over and moved further ahead. There was not a great deal of activity the further ahead he travelled. None of the Dreamers children could be sighted; mostly because many of them were tending to the Valley of Songs and whatever else they did in their day to day lives.

Time was unnoticed within the Dream as he flew through its ethereal landscape. Sights and wonders that would have forced him to stop in his tracks and gaze in awe went unnoticed as he looked ahead only to where his goal would reside. He passed through Stranglethorn and noted the pockets of blackness that dotted the region, Troll villages that had been raided and ransacked by the cultists. Which judging by their size and the fact that no Green Dragons had arrived to reverse the damage suggested that these raids had occurred after the Valley of Songs while these fanatics were returning to their home.

The void-scar was easier to follow after that. The thin trail having become almost like a crack within the Dream itself. It pained Harry to see the Dream like this. Is if the Emerald Dream itself was being attacked and wounded by the actions of this vile Loa.

A further unknown amount of time and he passed beyond the borders of Stranglethorn and into a large wetland that stretched along the southern most cost of eastern Azeroth. And he saw it. Well, to be more exact; he didn't see it.

And it was massive. Like a great and terrible demon had reached into the Dream and violently tron out a massive chunk of it. The void before him was horrifyingly huge. Several miles in diameter it forced Harry to take a step back when he noticed that the Dream was not forcing it to grow smaller as its energies refilled the emptiness, but the reverse happened. The void, it was growing larger. Whatever was happening there, whatever these monsters were doing in the name of their dark god; it was increasing the influence of the Loa of Blood and through that the damage his influence had upon the world.

"We're running out of time."

XxxXxxXxxX

A/N:

So chapters will be a bit on the short side starting in for this story. This is due to techinically being in what we would consider the 'Prologue Arc.' we are setting up the world that Harry is finding himself in as well as who Harry himself is becoming. Chapter content will get longer as events progress so please be patient.

As always: read, REVIEW!, fav, follow, REVIEW AGAIN!

There is a schedule (I won't bother repeating its order at this time any more), which should see a chapter coming out at least once a month, maybe sooner if the mood strikes us. If you want more sooner then review more and more.

Please enjoy the flag ship of our writing and be gentle :D