Gylledra finished her meager breakfast and found Varok alone in his tent. He seemed to be having a small issue with the strap on his right pauldron. Without a word, she approached, putting her hand on his to stop him and he let go. She released the strap then pulled it tight, settling it into place to buckle, then got to work on the others. He let her do it, watching her, both of them quiet for a long time. They'd lived these moments before battle countless times, both had seen the cost of what was to come.

"This will not be an easy battle." Her voice was soft, but calm and unwavering. She felt no fear going into the foray, she would fight, and she might die, but that had always been the reality of her existence.

"Are they ever?"

"Some are won more quickly than others…none are easy to fight." His armor would stay in place now for sure, Gylledra was well versed in the matter after all. Varok moved his shoulders a little, with a satisfied nod. After giving the strap on his chest a final tug, she let her hands lie at his waist. "Though the circumstances are terrible, it will be an honor to fight beside the Horde."

"We are fortunate to have you on our side." He tilted her chin upward a little. "Though, I cannot imagine any circumstance of war is not terrible."

"It would be less terrible if it was not the Warsong we were marching out to face this morning." She gave a shrug and he nodded with a thoughtful look on his face.

"That is a valid point." He replied. She wanted to tell him not to watch for her, not to put himself at any unnecessary risk for her sake, because she had been in battles since before his ancestors were born. But she knew orcs were not sentimental as other races might be. Their women fought beside them as fierce and terrifying as any male.

"Do not think too lowly of me when you see what I truly am in the face of my enemy." She looked down and he gathered her into his embrace.

"I have seen you in the face of adversity and in the face of enemies. In all cases you acted in the interest of preserving the Horde, whatever you may think you are, it will not frighten me." He raised her chin again, this time kissing her.

"Lord Saurfang, there…" The voice halted as the orc who entered the tent unbidden froze. Gylledra half expected Varok to let go of her at once, but instead he pulled back gently, eyes on hers before turning to the intruder. Secret delight swept through her, he wasn't ashamed having been caught with her…she hadn't even realized she was concerned about it. She blinked away the haze Varok's embrace left her in, wondering how he always managed to appear so clear headed.

"Well?" He barked, impatiently. The orc, looking uncomfortable, snapped to attention.

"Scouts report the Warsong are gathering and that they know we have come, Lord Saurfang." The report effectively swept aside all distraction from Gylledra's fuzzy brain at once, knowing it was already time to fight.

"We will move at once." Varok turned to her, which was enough to let the orc know he was dismissed and he departed without delay. "Time to go."

"Don't die." She smiled and gave his hand a squeeze before darting out of the tent.

.

Saurfang followed Gylledra outside where the orcs were getting ready, falling into rank, and moving into position. She changed before his eyes as she strode away, her armor materializing out of nowhere as her eyes turned black, irises shining bright white with arcane power. The shimmering markings on her skin had grown dark as well and she called out to a couple orcs she'd grown friendly with and they nodded to whatever she had said.

"My axe hungers for blood, brother!" Broxigar slapped Saurfang on the back, grinning.

"I've no doubt it will be sated today." He replied.

There was a light breeze, but the air felt heavy and seemed to even taste of the impending violence, and it stank of fel. He gave his formation orders, taking in the surroundings. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed movement above and saw Nasorya crouched on a ledge, watching over them with a strange intensity, her eyes flicking back and forth like a twitchy, purple-haired sentry. Now wasn't the time to analyze her antics.

"We must push them back enough that I can get to Grom." Thrall came up beside him. "I believe we have the means to purge the fel at least from him, we will go from there…"

"We will thin them out and make the way clearer to pass." Saurfang agreed. "To the front!"

The fel orcs were in formation…a disarrayed, hectic, and fel-madness fueled formation. Saurfang would take no pleasure in this battle, not when it was his own kind he would cut down.

"Gylledra." Thrall called to her and she turned. "You have been at war with these forces for millennia. What can you say to us so we will be better prepared?" She looked at him for a long moment and gave a nod before stepping out front, her presence somehow seeming even bigger than it usually was. She was no meek creature to begin with, war was what she knew, it was what she did. Saurfang could see she was a natural born leader, there was something about her that even he felt driven to follow her into battle. She looked at the sky for a brief moment before turning to address the army she had agreed to fight beside.

"The orcs who were once your brethren are not all you will face today." She called, and to Saurfang's surprise, her voice commanded their attention as silence fell across the ranks. "Facing demons in battle is unlike facing any enemy you may have known before." She continued, her voice carrying across them. "You will hear whispers that you must shut out, you will face their cleverness and their aptness in battle. They are strong; you know what they can do, they took your home from you, and now they seek to take this one too. They will unleash things upon it like you have never seen nor imagined; Infernals will rain down from the sky engulfed in fel fire. The sky itself will burn." The Horde listened to her words; the orcs were familiar with demons, but had not gone to war with them like this before. "But they can be beaten. If it bleeds, you can kill it. Your blades will still sink into their flesh and THEY WILL FALL!" A roar erupted as orcs, trolls, and tauren alike raised their weapons. The humans and their leader listened too, to her speech. "Whatever has come before this day, no longer matters." She looked at the humans in particular. "You all know well that this world will perish if we do not all fight for it together."

An enormous shadow passed overhead, quieting them; many of the army looked up at once and Saurfang barely had time to register what was happening. The huge, winged creature landed hard on the ground, behind Gylledra, shaking the earth itself, and sent up a cloud of dust. She didn't even flinch. A dragon…she had…a dragon. It was not some ethereal, conjured thing like before. The roar it let out would have made even the bravest of orcs think twice. The dragon was black, its mouth, full of razor sharp teeth, was big enough to eat ten orcs at once. It eyed them with a flaming, violet glare, giving a snort and a shake, the wind of its wings blew more dust and Saurfang squinted a little. Taking a deep breath, the dragon's chest expanded, and a purple glow seemed to emit from beneath and around its scales. It shot a pillar of flame skyward and in the distance, their enemies might have halted for just a moment. Even a fel-crazed orc had the sense to be wary of a dragon. Gylledra said before that the demons knew her, and if it was true, and this was how she fought…with a dragon, then they would know that she was there.

"I leave it to you to lead the march, Warchief." Gylledra told Thrall then turned with a nod as her helm appeared in place. "Lord Saurfang." He could not see her smiling behind the helm, but he was certain that she was.

Effortlessly, she climbed the dragon's back and with a few flaps of its wings, it was in the air again. Every face was skyward, staring after her as the huge beast spread its wings, spiraling upward and disappearing into the clouds. Thrall turned to Saurfang, the question on his face.

"I did not know about the dragon." Saurfang told the Warchief. "But she would have a fucking dragon, wouldn't she?"

"But where did it come from?" Thrall looked back to the sky. Saurfang frowned, he had wondered that too as the giant purple orbs of its eyes had…he stopped and whirled around, looking to the cliff faces. He knew then where the dragon had come from, Gylledra hadn't been keeping it anywhere; she -the dragon- had been there all along! "What is it?" Thrall frowned.

"It is Nasorya!" Saurfang could hardly believe it himself. "She is the dragon." Thrall was not easy to surprise or shock, and his mouth fell open. He closed it quickly, a smile tugging up one side of his mouth as he gave a nod.

"I feel better about the odds now." Thrall told Saurfang.

.

From the air, it was a lot easier to see what was happening. Before the armies could clash, Gylledra got a lay of the land. The battlefield was flat, and the Horde marched across it as the red fel orcs screamed and banged their axes against their armor and shields. They were fewer in number but where one orc may have taken down another, it would require four or five to bring down one of these monsters. It pained her, knowing that they were merely tools, that inside were the orcs that thirsted for battle and honor but had no control any longer.

Below, the armies clashed violently, the human Alliance holding the line as Horde troops pushed through. Gylledra kept watch for the demons she knew were coming and when the sky turned green, alight with fel fire, she knew the time had come.

The infernals began to fall like great green meteors and Nasorya swooped, snatching one out of the air and breaking it apart, and then another…and another. Any they could stop from reaching the ground would save the lives of their warriors. Doomguards and felhounds seemed to pour forth from the forests, filtering in between the fel orcs. Gylledra readied herself, letting the shadow course through her unchecked and the arcane acted as a catalyst. The power felt purer and stronger than it ever had, and she rose to her feet on Nasorya's back.

As she had done so many times before, she leapt from the dragon, hurtling toward the ground in a streak of arcane surrounded by black smoke that absorbed the light. The earth cracked at her point of impact in the midst of the demons and fel orcs. They were thrown back, the cracks glowing bright as the shadow poured from her. The orcs did not know her, and they rushed forward without hesitation but as they stepped across the shattered ground they were torn apart by the arcane radiating from beneath their feet. The demons did know Gylledra, and she had killed enough of them that for perhaps only a heartbeat, they hesitated.

As the demons roared their cries for her doom, her blades appeared in her hands and she cut them down with a ferocity born from hate. That hatred fed the shadow and the more she embraced it, the stronger she became. The shadow billowed off her like black, smoky tendrils and it clung to the demons and the orcs, burning away their flesh, devouring them as only the Void could do.

"You know me! You know what awaits you at the end of my blades!" She screamed at them in Eredun. "You will not awake to be remade in the nether!"

Gylledra tore a path through the enemy, leaving behind her a trail of shadow and arcane that crawled up and devoured anything fueled by fel that touched it. Her heart was pounding, it was all she could hear over the din of weapons and armor as she destroyed as many as she could. Above, Nasorya still ripped the infernals from the sky and burned the ones she couldn't reach.

She heard the telltale roaring screech of one nearby as it moved toward the forces Thrall was leading. They needed to make their way through, they needed to get to Grom Hellscream. Her blades vanished and she reached toward the ground with her clawed gauntlets, pulling upward, her arms trembling with strain as the fel orcs and demons in her path were physically ripped apart. Her hands became engulfed in flickering purple fire and it grew.

A vicious, animalistic cry tore from her as she hurled the fire at the infernal, her entire body engulfed in it now. The ball of fire struck off the arm of the infernal and it reeled backward. At that moment she came face to face with Thrall and grabbed him by the front of his armor, her fire inflicting no damage on him.

"Take the path I cleared, the shadow will not touch you!" She snarled, her voice metallic as though she spoke with many. His eyes were wide, but he said nothing, giving a firm nod and she released him, aware that she was close enough now to the Horde soldiers that they would see what she was. The blades were in her hands again as she ran toward the infernal. It screeched and grabbed at her with its remaining arm, but she scaled it, driving both blades into its neck as it roared in pain. She twisted the blades and the glowing fel flickered for a moment, flashing purple before its life faded and the construct crumbled.

Demons knew that facing her meant a permanent end, their essence would not return to the Twisting Nether to be reborn in flesh again, they would go to a special hell of her own devising, awaiting their final destruction. Some she had let wait for centuries, not knowing what moment would be their last, or if they were damned to suffer there at her leisure.

The battlefield was teeming with demons, there seemed no end to them, as was typical for these battles. They won by sheer intimidation oftentimes, the appearance of outnumbering the defending army a hundred to one. They were demons, a fair bit of their numbers were illusion; they used this method to determine how many it would take to overcome the indigenous armies of the worlds they came to destroy.

Gylledra took down as many as she could, she needed to push herself as she realized this was a fight she had never engaged in before…former allies under the control of the Legion. It was a new pain that grew in her to drive her blades into the hearts of orcs she knew. Their red, demon blood-crazed eyes wide with shock, as the red faded away with their life. It was the only way though, until the demon whose blood they drank was dead, they would never be themselves, they would never be free. The Legion had not counted on the orcs regaining their strength and will to live, or their determination to have a home free of the wretched fel.

The Warsong and demons were dropping in number and Thrall made a final push to make it through to Grommash Hellscream, his hammer swinging as stray demons ran at him. It was the instant Gylledra let out a breath of relief, that she was struck hard from behind and the wind was knocked out of her as she hit the ground. She rolled over, still disoriented, in time to dodge the heavy blade of a wrathguard. There was nowhere to go, however, as he raised the other sword to bring it down on her. Before he even reached the apex of his swing, a huge axe was imbedded in his chest and Gylledra quickly scrambled to her feet.

"Good timing." She commented as Varok pulled his axe out of the dead demon. Another rose behind him but Gylledra hit it with a blast of void. It struck the demon in the chest and it shrieked, cursing at her in Eredun, as it began to collapse inward on itself.

"Likewise." Varok snorted.

The front line held as Thrall got to Grom and with Jaina's assistance they purged the fel from him. The stink of Mannoroth stung Gylledra's nose, it permeated even the air it seemed. She had encountered him before and realized it was his blood that had cursed the orcs. The battle around her seemed to swirl into a blur, axes and armor and fire…she screamed at them to hold the line as she cast liquid fire into the enemy, clinging to their bodies, driving them back.

An explosion shook the ground beneath their feet and at once the demons began to scatter. They retreated, leaving the Warsong behind, but something was wrong, they weren't fighting anymore…none of them were. The fel orcs were fel no longer, the red fading, returning them to the green they were before, the fel-crazed glow in their eyes was gone, but they stood, some wavering, others looking delighted. Gylledra realized then that they were…free. The demon had been slain…Mannoroth was dead and her helm vanished as she took a deep breath of fresh air.

"What have I done?" An orc murmured to himself beside her and she turned to him as he dropped his axe and looked at his hands, his face twisted as though in pain. "The innocent…" She gasped, her heart slamming in her chest. They were free, all the orcs were free…but what was left of the blood curse had kept them from truly knowing with perfect clarity what they had done all those years ago, a terrible, perfect clarity they now had back.

She was running before she even realized it, at full speed, shoving orcs out of her way, vaguely aware that she called out Varok's name. Her own voice sounded distant, drown out by her heartbeat as she searched for him. Far ahead, in a gap, she saw him kneeling in the dirt, his axe on the ground and like that other orc, he stared at his hands, his face contorting with grief and regret. She knew exactly what he was doing, he was reliving every innocent life he took, every slain child in the Sacking of Shattrath, every unarmed human he'd sunk his blade into in Stormwind during the First War. She knew these things because she had seen them herself in his memories when he pulled her from the abyss. She knew these things because she too had slain countless innocents under the guise of righteousness. Entire populations fell at her hand and for thousands of years afterward she did exactly as he was doing, reliving every kill, remembering the fear on their faces, hearing their screams as they died.

There was only the sound of her breath then as she ran, every footfall on the soil seemed to stick with her somehow and as she approached, she dove down onto her knees, the plate of her armor skidding through the dirt as she reached up and grabbed him, taking his face between her hands, raising his head so that his eyes met hers. The pain in them struck her like a blade, and he put his hands over his middle, shaking his head, though no words would come.

"I know." She told him. "I know it, Varok." The agony gripped him; it tortured him, just as it had tortured her for thousands of years before someone helped her like she knew she must help him. Otherwise, he would collapse upon the pain, it would consume and destroy him.

"…children." He whispered finally. "I knew…but not like this…"

"I know." She said again, tears on her cheeks. "You must listen to me though." He stared and she saw the defeat creeping up in him, hope fading and the knife in her twisted. "You did those things, but it was not you that did them. It was Mannoroth."

"It was me…and I loved it…" Disgust twisted his face but she held onto him.

"No. It was not. They infected your mind and your body, it was not you. Without the blood, you would have never made those choices." She went on. "It was not you."

"Yet I must live with it, I must remember doing those things, breaking their bodies upon my axe, burning them alive…"

"Yes. You must. Just as I do." She whispered, leaning close. "I have never forgotten, just as you will never forget. And in the dark sometimes…you will see them…and you will break apart like this all over again."

"I cannot think I am worthy of living after such deplorable dishonor…" Varok shook his head, taking a deep shuddering breath as his eyes turned to where his axe lay.

"No!" Gylledra hissed, pulling his face to look at her again. "You must never let it take you there. You are stronger than that."

"Am I?" He tried to pull away from her. "Do not touch me, I don't deserve you or your comfort…" He growled, but she did not let go.

"I decide who is worthy of me." She told him, firmly. "There is greatness in you yet. It is my choice help you with this burden, Varok."

"It is my burden to carry." He shook his head.

"Then let me walk beside you while you carry it." She ran her fingers back through his silver hair and his shoulders slumped, hanging his head. The world around them had fallen away, she knew now was the critical time, he needed to desire life, to keep going. Nothing else mattered.

"I cannot see how you can excuse…"

"I do not excuse it." She cut him off, and he looked up again, surprised. "No more than I excuse myself for the populations I annihilated, that I did choose to do of my own free will." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "We have done…terrible things…and we live on with the memory of them for a reason."

"Punishment?"

"Atonement." Gylledra's own heart felt as though it bled, the shameful memories as clear in her mind as though they had been only days before, not millennia. "Nothing erases what happened or the blade of regret that still turns in the wound…but we live on and in that we must do what we can to fight for the lives of the innocent now. No good is wrought by crawling into a hole to die. We are still strong, there is good we can still do." He let out a long breath but nodded.

"You have lived with this pain for…thousands of years." Varok took another deep breath and she saw it, the spark she was searching for, the decision he'd just made…to live.

"I have…and every day since then I have pledged myself to honor, to defending those who cannot defend themselves, to keeping safe the innocence of anyone I can."

"I have earned this suffering." He winced, but moved to stand up and so did she. He picked up his axe and for the first time looked around him. There were many different reactions to this freedom, some were like his, others who had not done as he had, were happy.

"As have I." Gylledra watched his eyes closely. "You will not come to terms with it in a day or even a year. But you must know that while you live, you can serve your people, protect them and ensure no one does to them what was done to you."

"You said someone helped you…who was it?" He asked her.

"It was Nasorya. I saved her from monsters who were torturing her…and she saved me from the monster that was torturing me." She told him. "I had gone to a place I thought was devoid of everything, convinced I would let myself waste away there and die as horribly as I could, as I deserved. But it was not an empty place and she told me that if I could cease my self-pity party long enough to save her, then I could work up the gumption to save myself and become something greater than my pain."

"That does sound like her." He nodded.

"Indeed, and I meant to leave her there as she was very annoyingly right, of course. But she followed me until I wanted her company…and never left me since." Gylledra wiped hastily at her cheeks. She was not one for tears, but in this matter, her emotions flowed strongly enough that she was moved. Varok put an arm around her, his face still drawn, but at least he was not going to fall upon his own axe blade now.

"She's a dragon." He murmured, glancing around, as though looking for her.

"Oh, you noticed." She looked at him, almost smiling, one side of her mouth nearly turning up.

"Mmhm. The horns make sense now." If he could make a joke…even a very small one, there was hope that like her, he would survive.

Grommash Hellscream had sacrificed his life to free his people of Mannoroth's blood curse, and in doing so regained all his honor amongst them. The armies had begun to tend to their wounded and dead. Gylledra took stock of Varok's wounds, which were mild, no more than abrasions and bruising, nothing that was cause for concern as she washed away the dried almost-black blood from him. She was listening though, to the conversations around her and the members of the Warsong spoke of fighting fierce elves in the forests they were logging.

"A great horned creature, part elf, part animal, it fought for them and we killed it. It had a tree branch for an arm, but commanded the trees." One of them went on. Gylledra's mouth went dry and she clenched her jaw.

"What is it?" Varok whispered. She replied to him in Shalassian.

"He is speaking of…my people…or the elves who once were my people…and they…I cannot believe…they killed Cenarius." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "He was almost a god to the night elves, the druids amongst them worshipped him." Gylledra shook her head, closing her eyes. "He was powerful, a great ally who surly would have been beneficial in the coming battles…"

"I am sorry." He told her. "The night elves…" He frowned.

"They survived the sundering it seems. It is good to hear, but now the Horde has undoubtedly made a fierce and powerful enemy of them by killing Cenarius. Such a thing is unforgivable." She explained.

"Would you return to the elves?"

"My place is not with them." She gave him a pointed look. "It hasn't been for a very long time. I've got bigger responsibilities now."

"I think your place is here now." Varok's voice was low.

"With the Horde?"

"With me."

Thrall and the human mage were summoned to a grove deep within the Night Elf territory of Mt. Hyjal. Gylledra hadn't seen any of them yet, but didn't doubt they'd seen her. She hadn't even known that any Elves survived outside of Suramar until coming here to Kalimdor where they began defending the trees being logged by the Warsong in Ashenvale. It made her feel strangely anxious, the possibility of seeing people she knew who had been her friends or fought alongside her all those years ago.

In the darkness, Gylledra slipped away from the camp, making her way silently through the forest toward the Night Elves' current base of operations. The moon seemed unusually bright, lighting the way clearly for her and she could feel many sets of eyes that followed her progress. The Sentinels, she'd heard them called, the elite military force of Night Elves that had taken down quite a few orcs with little trouble.

In a clearing ahead, basking in the light of the moon, was a familiar form, one she had not seen in ten thousand years, but it still felt somehow like it had not been that long. Gylledra had been careful to approach without weapons or armor, dressed in her simple leathers. Tyrande turned her head, looking completely unsurprised and in that moment, Gylledra was attacked. She impossibly snatched an arrow out of the air that was shot at her and as the figure ran forward, she disarmed the sentinel, relieving her of her bow, quiver, and blades. Gylledra caught an elbow to the face but managed to incapacitate her opponent, twisting the assailant's arms behind her back. They were both breathing hard.

"I wondered if you'd come." Tyrande greeted. She wasn't particularly warm, nor was she cold, though, toward Gylledra. She was wary, understandably so. Gylledra released the sentinel, getting to her feet and brushing off her clothes.

"Yet you still sent your guard after me."

"You have taken up with the green outlandish monsters, which I am having some trouble understanding." Tyrande explained.

"Fortunately, I do not expect you to understand." Gylledra told her.

"So, it did not suit you to remain safe behind the barrier in Suramar?"

"Had I known they planned to shield the city I would not have gone. I wanted to fight."

"Yes, I know. It was never like you to hide from anything." The priestess let out a long breath. "I know what was done to your family…"

"We all lost so much in that war." Gylledra remained alert. The sentinel who had attacked her had vanished again into the woods but she did not doubt that they still watched.

"The arcane has changed you. You have embraced it…a volatile and addictive magic…"

"Yet you can see plainly that I have not sought power for myself, instead fighting for this world and all its inhabitants." Gylledra folded her arms.

"I am still curious that you came to be amongst the orcs." The way Tyrande said the word was as if it left a bad taste in her mouth. "More curious yet that one followed you here." Gylledra knew, of course, that Varok was lurking in the woods, though she hadn't let on. He was a warrior, not a rogue. He could be stealthy, but he could not make himself entirely unseen.

"Yes…he is important to me." She replied, a small smile on her lips. "Returning to Azeroth has been a very interesting and….unexpected experience. I didn't know what I would find, or if there would be much to return to at all outside of Suramar."

"You have a place amongst us, Gylledra…if…"

"If I give up the arcane." Gylledra finished for her. Tyrande nodded slowly. "You would want me also to give up the Void magic I wield as well, since you likely regard that with higher disdain than you feel even for the arcane."

"The arcane is a corruptive force that led our world to be shattered into fragments." Her old friend gave a small shrug.

"I do not fault you for your views, I believe any power is dangerous in the wrong hands. While I appreciate the token offer…we both know I will never give it up when it's the greatest means I have against the Legion." It was a bit more than an empty gesture, Gylledra knew that if she truly renounced use of magic, the Night Elves would welcome her into the fold. Even if she had been willing to relinquish her power, she had no desire to be amongst them.

"Nevertheless, the offer stands."

"Even though my heart beats for an orc?" The question hit its mark and Gylledra watched Tyrande clench her jaw, fighting to keep her face impassive. "I fight for this world to live, not for one faction or another. I will stand beside any and all who are willing to oppose the Legion…and I will stand against any who embrace it." The quietness of the forest stretched between them for a long moment before Tyrande nodded.

"I understand…whether I agree with your choices or not is irrelevant, I feel confident though, that you are not our enemy." She said at last. "At this moment, none of us are enemies, as it will take all of us to being down the demons."

Gylledra wasn't entirely sure she knew how she felt about her conversation with Tyrande. The nostalgia she had expected didn't rear its head, and it made her wonder about whether she'd ever felt truly accepted by the Night Elves even before the Legion first invaded. She certainly hadn't been made to feel very welcome amongst the Nightborne when the shield came down and she argued with Elisande herself. They'd thought only of themselves, the outside world could have been burnt to ash along with every other living creature and they didn't care.

It had been a relief to learn that while the land was now in pieces, the pieces were full of life, Azeroth was much more than Gylledra could have imagined. Despite not seeing very much of it so far, she felt fiercely loyal to the world that was her home and all the people who lived there.