Worldmender

The guards moved away allowing the travelers to pass into the small village with the Tauren. He led them inside the inn were another Tauren watched over as innkeeper. The Crossroads was rather small despite being practically the major town in the Northern Barrens. Crossroads reflected more of a tribal motif, with only a few war-like, sharp angles that the Horde desired from their buildings. The inn itself was made from dried mud. A fire at the center was low, but warm. Smoke billowed out into the opening at the top. The Tauren motioned for Neltharion and Calia to sit down. Calia helped Neltharion onto the ground. The Black Dragon breathed heavily as he settled down, leaning up against his elbows.

"Who are you?" Neltharion asked.

"I am Tonga," he replied. "Yes, I know you, Worldmender..."

"Worldmender?" Neltharion. He looked to Calia, smiling under his hood. "I've got a new name already. And I like this one."

"Perhaps it is something my people should call you after what I and my compatriot have witnessed today," said Tonga. "The horrible, fiery scar created by the one the orcs call Blood's Shadow...but you...you healed it."

"Do you know who you are talking to?" Calia asked. Neltharion raised a claw up before she could say anything else.

"Don't ruin it..." he whispered to her.

"I know who you were as well," said Tonga. "Blood's Shadow."

Neltharion sighed, pulling back the hood.

"Deathwing," said Tonga. "But no more."

He reached out to touch Neltharion in the face. He took hold of one of the braids, noticing the symbol of the Earthen Ring dangling from it.

"The Destroyer would not ally himself with the Earthen Ring," said Tonga. "You are not the Destroyer."

"Are you a shaman?" Neltharion asked as Tonga let go of the braid.

"No, Worldmender, I am not," said Tonga. "I am a druid. However, our goals are very much the same, to find a way to heal the shattered world."

"Then, you must know of Ysera," said Calia.

"I know of her and I do respect her, however, I have never met her," said Tonga. "But if her brother wishes to rest here tonight, then I will vouch for him to Thork. So long as your human companion does not make trouble."

"Make trouble..." Calia began, rising up off her seat. Neltharion took hold of her shoulder, pulling her back down.

"She...is my consort," he said to the Tauren. "And as such..." he turned his head to Calia. "She knows that she cannot take sides between the conflicts the mortals of the Alliance and the Horde have."

Calia looked at Neltharion, her mouth once more working, but no sound coming out.

"I understand," said Tonga. "I will speak to Thork." He rose from his seat. "You may gather what supplies you need for tomorrow's journey and rest up as well."

"Thank you," said Neltharion.

"Yeah..." said Calia. She sighed as the Tauren left. Taking one sniff of the air, she snorted, waving her hands in front of her face. "This place smells like cow pie."

"Don't be so picky, it's a bed," said Neltharion. "You wanted a bed, remember..."

"Not a single bit of privacy in this hut," said Calia. She looked around. "Just furs on the floor. No bed, no room. So...no sex."

Neltharion looked down, his lip bottom lip sticking out in a feigned pout. Calia brushed off the fur mat and laid upon it, her husband settling down beside her. She tugged at his robe.

"Alright, let me see it," she said.

"What?" Neltharion asked.

"The tear in your hide," said Calia. "What did you think I meant?"

"Um..."

Calia slapped his shoulder: "Get that fat head outta the gutter."

Neltharion scooted to pull the robe off. The innkeeper looked behind him to see the now exposed Earth-Warder lying on his floor. His bottom lip trembled slightly as a touch of fear grabbed his throat. The Black Dragon nearly took up half the floor even in his smaller size. His eyes were wide and he swallowed hard as Neltharion curled his tail in, leaning to his side to expose the newly formed, fiery rip in his flank. She touched the side, seeing it had grown a little wider.

"The plates I put on aren't closing it," she said. She stood up, looking over at the innkeeper. "Hey, does this place have a blacksmith?"

"Yes," said the innkeeper.

"Does the blacksmith have elementium handy?" she asked.

"Elementium is rather hard to find," said the innkeeper.

"No, it's not," said Calia. "Thanks to the elementals running amuck everywhere. They're bringing it here."

"We haven't really seen any elementals," said the innkeeper. "They've pretty much leave the Barrens alone."

"Wonderful," said Calia. She settled back down onto the fur mat where Neltharion had decided to make himself comfortable on. She watched the overly muscular, massively filled out Black Aspect roll against the fur. She shook her head as he wallowed on his back, his metallic spine plates clanking together. "I forget fur is like cat-nip to you."

"I just love how it feels," said Neltharion. He spread his wings wide, scraping the metallic plates against the stone floor. Calia laid her head upon his huge chest as Neltharion settled down from his rolling. He gathered her up into his huge forelegs and held her close to him. Calia threw her arms around him, giving the side of his thick neck a pat.

"You are like a big teddy bear," said Calia. She slid off of his chest and grabbed the brown robe. "Here, put that back on."

Neltharion took the robe and leaned up, slipping it on over his immense draconic form.

"If only you could transform into a human again," she said.

"I've tried," said Neltharion. "But still that one ability is beyond me. It's like my powers had a restart when I was freed from those monsters' influence. We never really transformed into mortal forms 10 thousand years ago. It was only in modern days did we use that ability."

"So, will it take you centuries to use that ability again?" she asked.

"Probably not," said Neltharion. "But in a way I don't want to have that power again even if it is useful."

"Why?"

"I know right now it would come in handy," said Neltharion. "But one look from a Night Elf or anyone who can sense my power, and it renders the disguise useless. Only the dimwitted are fooled. And if the Twilight Hammers can sniff me out regardless, then what's the point? Human...dragon...I'm just wasting energy."

"Well, it's not that I don't mind your dragon form," said Calia. "How is it that I found a dragon so handsome?"

"I've been told I was one of the handsomest dragons in the world," Neltharion said with a cheeky smile.

"Now you're boasting," said Calia. "But you are so cute."

Once more, she reached up to pinch his scaly cheek. Neltharion chuckled as he again gathered her up into his forelegs and held her close. He gently kissed her and she threw her arms around his neck. The innkeeper set some food and drink down before them in two old clay plates.

"Thank you," said Neltharion.

"You two are probably hungry from your trip," he said. "I don't know what dragons eat, though. Enjoy."

"This is fine," said Neltharion. He picked the plate up in his paws and leaned over to sniff them. "Spiced sausages."

"Tasty," said Calia. "Of course you'll eat anything, you fat pig."

Neltharion bit into one of the sausages, tearing it with his sharp teeth.

"Not fat, I'm big boned," said Neltharion.

"You are fat!" said Calia. "And in denial."

"Well, you must like tubby guys or else you wouldn't think I'm cute," said Neltharion.

"You're lucky I do like 'em tubby," said Calia. "You and that jiggly butt of yours."

Neltharion bit off another piece of sausage. He looked outside, seeing the sun now setting. The innkeeper built up the fire, putting more wood in it. Calia took out one of her daggers and started sharpening it with a wet stone. The Black Dragon leaned over to kiss his wife on the head and then rose upon his feet. He called forth his enormous, fiery mace and leaned upon it like a walking stick carried by an old man. Neltharion's draconic body was made to walk on all fours. However, though he could walk on his hind legs, it often proved difficult and awkward. Right now, he could not shake off the lingering weakness he felt. Healing the Divide did take a lot out of him. He cursed his weakness. At one time, he could move mountains with just a simple thought. Riverbeds could be changed with a motion of his claws. The continents moved at his command. Now, just healing a fiery gorge took too much out of him. Neltharion looked back upon his wife as she sharpened her daggers and checked her guns. Her eyes shifted around, keeping watch over the inn. He could sense the distrust in her for the Horde caretakers of this village. It was easy to spot. Neltharion shook his head in dismay for his wife's ill attitude. To him, such distrust did not make sense. Of course, being who he is, he could not take sides in the fight between the Alliance and the Horde regardless to who he was married to.

Neltharion leaned upon the mace, walking with a slight limp as he came outside. His head still felt heavy, his shoulders were low. His tail dragged the ground, the blade scraping a line as he walked. As soon as he made it outside, he saw Tonga at his post beside the inn. Neltharion limped towards him.

"Have you come out to watch the sun set behind the hills, Worldmender?" Tonga asked.

"One of the few pleasures I took for granted," said Neltharion. He looked over to see the sun making its way down, casting orange and golden rays across the savannah. The sky began to light up with fire as it sets.

"I suppose Blood's Shadow had no use for watching sunsets," said Tonga.

"No," said Neltharion. "He did not."

"A shame," said Tonga. "I would meditate while the sun sets, my eyes watching it lower to the ground and my mind pondering what deeds I have done during the day. A time of reflection. Then, when the sun disappeared, my reflection would be over and I knew when the sun rose again, I would go out with renewed vigor."

"Before he...corrupted my life," Neltharion began. "I took pleasure in simple things like the sunset. I was so different back then."

Tonga turned around, looking upon the ailing Earth-Warder: "The weight of Azeroth must be great if you have to use that for a cane to walk with."

"It's...not the weight of Azeroth that is holding me down," said Neltharion. "I'm not up to my standards like I used to be. The Old Gods did this. When they left me...when I was cured of their horrible voices, my body became weakened. It's like they took some of the life out of me. I tried to use my powers to heal the land here...in doing so...did this to me." He lowered his head. "How can I be the Earth-Warder when I can barely even stand up after sealing a fiery crack in the land? I used to move mountains...now...I can barely move a pebble."

"A pebble is still a part of the mountain," said Tonga. "You will find your strength, Worldmender. And when you do, this world will be healed. But do not strain yourself. Take baby steps. Move the pebble first, and then, the rock, and then the boulder, and then...the mountain. But you must move the pebble first."

"Right..." said Neltharion. "Move the pebble first."

"The avalanche starts with one pebble," said Tonga. "One simple, small pebble."

Neltharion settled down upon his rump and looked upon a single pebble on the ground. He reached out for it with his paw, but did not take it. The pebble rose up, floating in the air just an inch below his paw. Neltharion raised his paw up and the pebble followed. Tonga watched him, but his solemn, wizened expression did not change. Neltharion tilted his paw and the pebble floated just above it. Then, Neltharion blinked his eyes and the pebble shot out from his paw. Swiftly, it streaked forward, only to smack an orc behind his head. Neltharion gasped as the orc toppled over slightly from the force of the pebble hitting him in the head. He grabbed the back of his head and looked behind him at the Black Aspect wearing a guilty expression upon his scaly face.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Neltharion cried. "Really!"

"Did you throw a rock at me, lizard?" he asked.

"It was an accident, I won't do it again," said Neltharion.

"See that you don't," said the orc.

"Hmmm..." rumbled Tonga. "Do not anger Thork again. It seems though that the pebble can be just as mighty as the mountain." He looked upon Neltharion again. "Perhaps it is best you practice that when you are in someplace less populated."

"Right," said Neltharion, lowering his head. "I don't want us kicked out before we are ready to leave."

"I have never heard of a dragon who ran from anything," said Tonga. "I can tell that is what you are doing. I have not told Thork that you and your human friend are running. If he knew, he would either turn you both over to whoever you are running from or order you to leave immediately. He does not want trouble here."

"I...I don't want to run," said Neltharion. His eyes focused upon the Tauren. "I don't want to hide. I want to face them. I want to take them down, every last one of them. If I cannot strike at the Old Gods, then I will strike at their minions. I will cut off their arms in this world." He sighed and deflated. "Only in my present state, I would get myself killed in the process. I can't die, or this world will know something worse than what the Cataclysm did. I was made to hold this world together. Even when I was evil, my continued existence held this world together. If I go, the very planet you walk upon will go afterwards. The Old Gods will have their means to escape their prisons and this world will be flung into chaos like it was before the Titans came. They knew what they were doing when they corrupted me. They wanted me dead, but they wanted to use my 'talents' to their means first. Then, have those who would fight against me take me down. Luckily Alexstrasza caught onto their plan and saved me instead." He slowly rose from the ground, leaning upon the fiery tipped, spiked, black mace. "Rest...that is what they tell me I need...rest. But I can't...I can't sit idly by, resting in some hole while I can feel my world in pain."

"Honey, come to bed," said Calia, peering from the doorway of the inn.

Neltharion leaned upon the mace, walking back into the inn. Calia took his arm, placing it around her shoulder and helped him towards the fur mat. She slowly eased him down onto the ground. Then, she followed, lying beside him. He set the mace down behind him and gathered his wife up into his arms. Calia leaned in, wrapping her arms around his thick neck.

"Don't worry, honey," said Calia. "Tomorrow if you're feeling better, we'll take to the air and fly..."

"Where?" Neltharion asked.

"Farther north," said Calia. "Ashenvale? Mt. Hyjal. Somewhere we can be safe."

"There's no safe place in Azeroth that will hide us," said Neltharion.

"Safer than this," said Calia. She leaned closer and whispered. "Alliance territory."

"Calia..." rumbled Neltharion.

"I don't feel safe here," said Calia. "Not with all these orcs around..."

"Calia, remember...indifference," said Neltharion.

"I can't," said Calia. "I can't do that. I can't be what you are." She leaned against his chest. "I can't be indifferent, not with members of the Horde occupying my homeland. The Forsaken...rejects of my brother's Scourge. To me, they're all the same. They spread that plague everywhere." She looked up into his green eyes. "You cannot deny your own hostility towards them as well. The Hour of Twilight, your demise. Those rotting, walking corpses will be the only people still roaming Azeroth when you and the other Aspects die. You don't think Sylvanas has a hand in that as well? You don't think she is secretly working for those monstrosities?"

"One group..." said Neltharion. "Not the whole Horde. One group I may show some hostility for. But not the whole Horde."

She sighed, turning around and pressing her back against his massive chest: "Be that way...sooner or later, you will see the evil that the Horde is."

"If it makes you feel better," Neltharion began. "Before you and I went to Uldum, while I was in Orgrimmar, I made a threat to Garrosh Hellscream. If he continued to insult me, I would create a volcano right in the center of his city. I told him that I saw many of his people as invading aliens upon my planet and if he continued his insults to me, I will make this world reject him like a virus in a host." He held her close. "How's that for threatening the Horde?"

"You actually said that to Garrosh?" she asked.

"Yes," said Neltharion. "Through his mind. Thrall was there, I didn't want him to hear what I was telling Garrosh. I respect Thrall and what he tried to do with the Horde. Garrosh is just a warmongering, hotheaded idiot who will start up the old wars that killed millions when Gul'dan first came here. Millions...including those of the Horde. At least Thrall had the sense to try and make some peace with his enemies."

"If Thrall was still warchief," Calia began. "I would have a slightly different attitude towards the Horde." She licked her lips. "Slightly. There would still be some hostility, but, knowing the kind of person Thrall is...it wouldn't be as much."

"There are those of the Horde who also do not like Garrosh," said Neltharion. "So, perhaps it's not hatred to the Horde in general with you, only a certain bit of hatred to Garrosh. In that you may find friends among the Horde."

"Now you're having wishful thinking," said Calia. She slapped his thick side. "Go to sleep, Nel. Sooner we get our rest, the sooner we can leave this place. I want you at least able to fly tomorrow."

Neltharion gave a heavy sigh and said in resignation: "Very well, my love."

He leaned over to kiss her head, holding her close to him. Neltharion purred deeply as he fell into slumber. His body was exhausted. Calia snuggled up against his warm chest. That purr of his could always lull her to sleep. It was the most comforting sound she ever heard him make. To her, he sounded like a massive cat, his sound soothing to her as she drifted off as well. He would keep her warm, he would keep her safe. Despite the fact he was weakened, he still was more than a match for any one who dared attack the two of them. Within his dreams, Neltharion subconsciously nuzzled against the back of her head with his snout. What brought him comfort was being able to hold the very thing that slowly began to awaken him when he was trapped in his own mind. If it had not been for Calia, then he suspected Alexstrasza would have never been able to break the bonds. The Old Gods would have consumed the last of what made Neltharion. All that would have been left was a mindless machine of destruction and fury. But he met Calia in Lordaeron, hearing her voice and seeing her face. Something about her voice, something about her face awoke the weary and battered Earth-Warder from inside of his mind and he began to fight against Deathwing's control. Neltharion was grateful that he had met her.

0

As the moon rose high, the guards changed their posts. Their eyes were droopy as they watched the roads. A hand came out from the shadows and a snap sounded.

An orc guard fell to the ground with a thud.

Another snap sounded and the second guard fell.

The shadows began to move swiftly towards the inn. The fire was growing low. The innkeeper had turned in for the night while the guests curled up in their sleep. The shadows passed across the floor, but paused silently.

There he was, curled up.

The Earth-Warder and his companion.

A flash of a dark blade rose up from one of the shadows. Forged of elementium and endowed by dark powers, the blade would pierce even the toughest part of the Black Aspect's hide. They were sent to do one thing, end his life. With Neltharion gone, the gates trapping their masters will no longer be barred.

The Hour of Twilight will begin.

They will rip open his scales and allow the Heart of Azeroth to spill upon the stone floor. A flash of elementium and a sharp blade swiftly sliced through the darkness. The shadow paused and became solid, its dark blood spilling out upon the floor. Another blur raced out and a neck cracked. A knife was flung and a startled grunt called out in the night. The Aspect of Earth was awake, his tail blade impaled upon one of his assassins. Calia was on her feet, alert as ever. Another shadow passed over her and she swung her dagger. Slicing upward, she cleaved a line through the chest of her assailant. Neltharion swung his tail, sending the assassin flying out the door of the in. A fireball ignited from his mouth crashing upon the wood pyre at the center of the inn. Calia had the other assassin, straddling him with her legs. She held onto her dagger and pulled her pistol. The last assassin stopped at the sound of a gunshot and fell over.

She was the best in her field, one of the few untouchable rogues working for Stormwind Intelligence. Neltharion rose to his feet looking upon his wife as she twisted the dagger in the chest of her captive. The assassin ignored the pain and tossed her from his body. He rose to his feet. Gripping the special dagger, he flung himself to the Earth-Warder.

"Make peace with your end, for the Hour of Twilight falls!" he roared as he attempted the drive the dagger into Neltharion's chest. Neltharion caught the assassin's arm in his strong claw. He squeezed upon the rogue's hand, bones breaking. The dagger dropped. The rogue coughed, blood splattering upon the Earth-Warder's robes.

"Is this what you seek?" Neltharion asked. He flung off the robe to expose his chest.

Calia grabbed the dagger and drove it into the assassin's back. Neltharion dropped him. The inn was filled with the smell of human blood, as well as something else. In all heroic tales of battles, never one of them told that upon death, they shat themselves. Death never had a pleasant smell. But Neltharion, being a predator, was not the least bit bothered by it. Calia, of course, as an assassin, had grown to become desensitized as well. Neltharion looked upon his wife, seeing the blood dripping from her hands. Her sea-green eyes darkened with cold determination.

"Calia?" he said, slowly approaching her.

Her eyes came to him, but her jaw was locked tightly. She remained silent.

"Calia?" Neltharion said again.

"They followed us," she said. "Like I knew they would."

She dropped the dagger and it rang with a clang upon the floor. Neltharion heard footsteps swiftly approach the inn. The other guards were aroused by the struggle, guns, axes, hammers, and maces ready. The big orc who Neltharion accidentally threw the rock at looked upon the bloodied mess in the inn. The bodies of the four assassins laid upon the floor in pools of their own filth.

"What the hell is going on here?" he asked. "You two!"

One of his guards knelt down before a body and began to rummage for identification. He rose from the floor, holding a ring with a hammer inside of a sun upon its surface.

"The Twilight Cult," he said. "They were after those two."

Thork turned to Neltharion and Calia: "Get out of my town. Now!"

"We said we would leave when the sun rose," said Neltharion. "It is still night."

"I don't care," said Thork. "You are not welcomed here. Get out, now!" He turned to his guards. "Send a message to Garrosh Hellscream. Tell him that the Twilight Cult is after these two. They came here, and attacked my town because Deathwing tried to hide himself here." He looked back upon Neltharion and Calia. "Once word gets out about you, Deathwing, and who's after you...no Horde settlement will take you in."

"Don't ever call me Deathwing," said Neltharion, his eyes flashed with fire. "Do you understand?"

Thork moved towards the Earth-Warder, looking up at him: "Get out of the Crossroads, Deathwing. Now!"

"Neltharion," said Calia. "Let's just go."

Neltharion locked his eyes upon Thork and then rumbled. His eyes narrowed. He huffed out a growl, a bit of black smoke escaping his nostrils. Then, he swung his head around and followed his wife. He took the bloodied robe and swung it around his neck. The citizens of the town watched on with silence as the two made their way towards the northern gate. Tonga slowly approached them, scratching his black mane.

"I am sorry that things did not work out as we had planned, Worldmender," he said.

"It's alright," said Neltharion, pausing. "We appreciate what you did for us."

"Yes," said Calia. "That was a bold move in welcoming us in."

"The least I could do," said Tonga. "I will spread the word among Thunder Bluff of the Worldmender's coming. Perhaps they will not look upon you with unkindness."

"And Blood's Shadow will disappear at least?" Neltharion asked.

"Once the druids and the shamans see what you have done, I have no doubt about it," said Tonga. He dipped his head and stepped away. Neltharion and Calia quietly exited under armed guards from the Crossroads. They turned around to hear the sound of the gates closing behind them. Neltharion sighed, his shoulders slumping. Calia sniffed and then began to walk up the northern road.

"Calia?" Neltharion asked, watching her walk passed him. He could smell the blood on her clothes and on her skin.

"Southfury River," said Calia. "Let's just get to it so we can wash off."

Neltharion lowering his head and followed her, keeping his head down. His mouth drew into a straight, tight frown, his eyes focused upon the ground. They walked towards the swollen river that divided Durotar from the Northern Barrens.

"I thought I told you I didn't want to see Arthas," Neltharion rumbled deeply at his wife.

"Arthas wasn't in the inn," said Calia.

"His face was," said Neltharion.

Calia shook her head at him. She turned towards the sound of the river sloshing against the bank. The river was a short walk from the Crossroads. Calia walked towards the bank and began to pull off her clothes, completely disrobing down to her undergarments. She dipped into the cool river water, washing off the blood from her arms and face and hair. Neltharion moved into the river as well, washing his tail blade off. He scrubbed away at his brown robe. He turned to his wife, who splashed the water upon her skin, rinsing away the blood. She looked back at him, her face still set, still cold.

"As soon as we get washed off, I want to be in the air," said Calia. "I don't want to walk into Orgrimmar."

"Neither do I," said Neltharion.

"Right, you and Garrosh really don't like each other," said Calia. She raised her shirt and examined it in the moonlight. The stains were nearly gone from the cloth. Neltharion shook off the robe and it then vanished, disappearing to whatever pock dimension he put it when he did not need it. Calia saw his shadow grow out over her and she turned back towards him to find him now in his full size. Neltharion dripped with water, but he was clean. The Black Dragon lowered to the ground, settling on his side. He rumbled and looked to his wife as she cleaned the rest of the blood off of her clothes. She came out of the water and raised the clothes up to him.

"Could you dry these off?" she asked.

Neltharion leaned down, his lips parting slightly. He took in a deep breath and exhaled, his hot breath drying away the moister from her clothes. She slipped them back on. She walked over to Neltharion's forepaw and gave it a tap. Neltharion rumbled as he lowered his neck down. His paw came out and he helped his wife upon his back. Once he felt her settled down upon the elementium plates graphed to his back, the dragon rose up. He spread his wings wide and kicked off from the ground. She felt the wind upon her face as the Black Dragon swiftly gained altitude. Neltharion began his swift downbeats, the force of his mighty wings nearly knocked down a couple of the tall, sparse trees. He began his flight north. Calia laid upon his massive neck, draping her arms around his plates. Her eyes drooped slightly. Neltharion's eyes turned back when he felt Calia's hand pat his neck. The corners of his mouth curled slightly into a smile. She was resting.

"You can sleep if you want," he rumbled. "I'll try to keep flying straight."

Calia closed her eyes.

"I know...you won't let me fall," she said.

"Never."

Neltharion looked down, taking his flight over the river. Swiftly, the barren land turned to lush forests as he flew over the mountains. A strange, mystical purple mist covered the landscape as trees of various colored leaves blanketed the forest. He flew over Ashenvale. Below, he could see the machinations of the Horde cutting down trees and burning away lands to build roads and fortresses. Then there were the Night Elves sabotaging their efforts to protect their land. There were Alliance villages here and landing in one of them would make Calia happy, but Neltharion did not want to go to them. Ashenvale was on the way to Mt. Hyjal and the World Tree. That is where he wanted to go. If there was aid he could call upon, it would be there. His sister Ysera guarded the World Tree when she was not in the Dream. It would not take him long to fly over the tall ridges that surrounded the land. Neltharion looked down, seeing his massive shadow pass over the tall trees. Flying below him on patrol were windriders. If they saw him, they would know better than to pick a fight with him.

The rest he had earlier helped him regain his strength back from healing the Divide. As he angled his wings and began his steep climb over the mountain ranges, in the east, the sun had begun to rise. The sky lightened and the stars slowly faded away. Neltharion slowly began to lower himself upon a cliff. Calia, startled by his movements, awoke, wiping her eyes.

"Nel?" she asked. "What's going on? Are we in Alliance territory yet?"

"No," said Neltharion. "We are in Ashenvale, just southwest of Mt. Hyjal."

"Hyjal?" asked Calia. "Why would we go there?"

"Because my sister is there," said Neltharion. "And if we need help, then she should be the first we turn to."

"Ysera..." said Calia.

"Maybe she will be able to help me with my weakness," said Neltharion. "I never got a chance to ask her about that."

"I would think Alexstrasza would be best for that," said Calia. "But of course, you two have difficulties in being in the same room with each other." She looked down around the cliff they had settled upon. "We will be flying over Mt. Hyjal?"

"Yes."

"Is it still...burning?" she asked.

Neltharion laid a claw upon the surface of the cliff and close is eyes. He felt his mind, his soul, his entire being become one with the rock around him. He dove in, swimming swiftly through the veins of minerals. Each vein gave him renewed energy and a sense of oneness and calm. Then, there was a growing heat. The heat itself was not natural. He was used to heat, used to the flowing fiery blood of Azeroth's core, the heart in which he shared. This though was not a part of it. This was something else.

Ragnaros.

Though the Fire Lord had been dead for months, the effects of his presence still lingered within the ailing rock around Mt. Hyjal. The damage had been done with Deathwing's break through Deepholm, tearing through the Elemental Plane. Hyjal was another example. The doorway to the Firelands still remained despite the Elemental Lord's demise. Mt. Hyjal was still in flames. Neltharion withdrew from the rock and took in a deep breath, fighting back the pained expression upon his face as he touched troubled mountain.

"Yes," he said.

"I know what you want to do," said Calia. "But don't. Think about what happened in the Barrens. Do you really think you can take on the damage caused to Mt. Hyjal."

"I cannot," said Neltharion, his voice growing deep. "What kind of a Aspect am I if I cannot heal this land I shattered?"

"You will," said Calia. "But not right now. But you will. You're not sitting at home, lying on some bed and wallowing in self pity, are you?"

"No," said Neltharion. "I am not."

"You are doing something," said Calia. "You just can't do that right now. Doesn't make you any less of a failure."

"I promise, when I get my strength back, this world will be whole again," said Neltharion.

"Don't change everything," said Calia. "If you're thinking about putting the continents back together..."

"I could."

"Don't," said Calia. "We'd probably be worse off with the Eastern Kingdoms and Kalimdor having easy access to each other. You would cause more harm than good."

"If it was like it used to be," said Neltharion. "With mountains separating everything, and everyone having what they needed, then there would be no need for this senseless bloodshed."

"What kind of Azeroth would that be, then?" Calia asked. "It would be like it was 10 thousand years ago? You are honestly saying it was better then?" She shook her head. "With the technology we have now, mountains probably wouldn't be able to stop people from climbing over to get to the other side." She patted his neck. "I know, you want everything to be back the way it was before you broke it, before you caused the misery. Well, that misery has made us tougher. It was both a good thing and a bad thing. Just don't think you failed in your duties and you have to make everything right again because of it. Azeroth is fine the way it is. I'm happy with it. Just protect the land, don't try to fix it."

Neltharion took in a deep breath and then gave a simple nod.

"Don't fix the land," he said. "Just protect it. I got it." He looked back at her. "Keep reminding me that whenever I feel areas like the Divide and Mt. Hyjal...when I feel the land aching, ailing, and in agony. It's like I feel a wound on my body that I know needs to be healed, if I don't, it'll keep hurting."

"Try to ignore the pain, then," said Calia. "Or learn to live with it." She looked away. "I've learned to live with mine..."

Neltharion dipped his head. He knew what she meant. He was the cause of a part of her pain. However, so was her brother and the death of her father. She could never go home, never see her homeland again. That was the pain she had to deal with and live with every day.

"I wonder how you are able to do it, Calia," said Neltharion. "How you are able to wake up every morning to see the face of someone who caused you a part of that pain you still feel."

"It's not the face I look at anymore," said Calia. "It's his eyes. His eyes tell me that he is not the one who caused it."

She heard a deep thrum from his neck and he fanned his wings. Neltharion hefted himself off of the cliff, and swiftly circled around, gaining speed to prepare his climb. Calia held on tightly with her legs as the dragon swooped upward, gliding along the currents going up the side of the mountain. He rose higher and higher, breaking the clouds above and then angling out. The deep purple sky suddenly turned an angry, fiery orange and red and the heat began to swell up around them. Calia looked over Neltharion's neck to see a pool of lava settling in a crater with a structure lined with strange, glowing runes sitting at the center. Neltharion looked back at the structure through the corner of his eye and his face drew a taunt frown. The structure itself seemed broken in a few places which indicated that a battle had gone on and the owner of this massive, fiery palace had lost. Lava boiled and churned around the blackened rock and elementals still roamed with fury through the land. The gate itself was blocked by stone, giving no means to enter the Firelands. However, the structure itself still stood as a reminder to all of the battle that went on and the lives that were lost. Neltharion only was sadden he, himself, did challenge Ragnaros. However, the Fire Lord died before Neltharion was cured of his madness. He was only pleased that he could take on Al'Akir instead. He would take on the other Elemental Lords, however, he heard news from both agents of the Horde and Alliance that Neptulon appeared to be friendly towards them and aided them against Azshara's forces. Therazane seemed friendly to those who proved their worth in Deepholm, but her general views of mortals was still one of hostility. She only wanted to be left in the peace and quiet solitude of her realm. And Neltharion was more than willing to give that to her. Despite the Temple of Earth originally being his home, the place in which he guarded the deep places of the world, he would no more return to it. He would not go where he was not wanted.

Neltharion turned away from the burning crater in the mountain and pushed forward towards the World Tree. A slight smile came to his face when he thought he could hear a rather child-like, cheerful giggle in the air.

His sister was calling him.