II
Nearly a week had gone by since the volcanic eruption in Southern Kalimdor. The Southern Earthshrine was a small stone shrine in a circle of tall granite pillars. The Shrine was recently erected for anyone to meet regardless of faction and meet peacefully for the greater good of Azeroth. This was where they could also meet up with the Earth-Warder safely without any issues from regular folk not used to seeing Neltharion around. Spread out all around him was the white, smooth, soft dunes of the desert. The Great Black smiled, feeling comfortable as the heat reflected off of the sand, warming his body. His black scales sucked the heat in.
The shrine was located in the desert near Tanarsis, a good private local and distanced away from the major populated areas. About twenty miles east was Uldum, the ancient Titan facility where Neltharion recalled his construction–the makings of his body and programming.
Neltharion winced at that thought that he and his brother and two sisters were more like the Titanic Watchers, constructs built for a specific function than actually dragons. Kalecgos, the replacement Aspect of Magic, was more dragon than Neltharion. He was born from an egg, he grew up, he had a childhood. Neltharion was constructed from the flesh of Galakrond, and the heart of Azeroth itself, born inside a glass cylinder with wires and tubes connected to his hide, the only face he saw when he stirred from unconsciousness was a bronze-skinned with an auburn beard and a disapproving look on his face. Though, Neltharion could not mistake the eyes–emerald green like his own.
I wonder because my eyes are like his, does he see through mine? Neltharion thought quietly. Has he seen all the horrible things I've done, does he even know the pain I've gone through those thousands of years ago?
"Neltharion," began Thrall, catching the black behemoth's attention. "We're ready."
Neltharion took in a deep breath and turned his great bulk to the gathering crowd. The crowd was a mixture of shamans from all walks of life, every faction. He even saw a few Argent Dawn shamans flying down from Northrend. Though the Scourge was not as powerful as it used to be under the combine control of Ner'zhul and Arthas, the undead were still a threat to common folk. Then the sky darkened as the sound of dragon wings stirred the air. Neltharion looked up, his green eyes flashed as he spied dark silhouettes flying over his head. They were black drakes carrying riders. The Aspect followed their path as they landed at the back. The riders were orcs with dark gray skin and wore heavy, spiked armor that seemed out of place for shamans. However, Neltharion could sense their control over the elements. They were shamans.
Though what concerned Neltharion even more were the drakes. These drakes, they were not from his recent brood, nor were they from Sabellion's brood in Outland or Nameria's new brood. THese dragons and their riders bore the symbol of the Dragonmaw. Neltharion's eyes narrowed when he looked to them, locking his green orbs to their orange ones. The Aspect took in a deep breath, locking his jaw. There was hardly a fragment of intelligence in their eyes, not a glimmer of recognition as to who he was to them. They did not know who he was. The black drakes were nothing more than beasts the orcs were riding on.
They did something to my children, Neltharion thought. Those creatures did something to my beautiful children.
The Black Aspect growled deeply, his lips pulling back across his racks of dagger-like teeth. Black, ashy smoke rose from his nostrils as he ignited his fires. His eyes smoldered a dull red color as he continued to stare hotly at them.
Thrall felt the temperature of the air change, growing hotter and hotter as the air shimmered in a mirage around the Aspect. He reached out to a shield-sized black scale upon Neltharion's colossal foot, but then snatched it away the moment he felt the searing heat upon his calloused fingers.
"Neltharion," Thrall said, craning his head up to the dragon.
"Those two shamans should leave," said Neltharion, speaking gruffly between his teeth. "Before I do something I wonder if I will regret later." He turned to peer down at the shaman. "They are from the Dragonmaw Clan. They are not welcomed here."
"All shamans are welcomed, Neltharion," said Thrall. "They all need to hear this."
"They ride my children like beasts," said the Aspect. "I looked into their eyes. Those drakes don't even know me."
"Now is not the time to investigate the Dragonmaw," said Thrall. "Try to ignore it. If they are doing anything wrong, I'll find out for you. But you need to keep as far away from the Horde as you can."
"Thrall, how would you feel if someone took your child away from you and then when you found him, he serves your enemies without hesitation. Then he looks at you, he has no recognition of you an his masters have stolen his will and intelligence as well? Tell me if you ever have that happen to you and you can just stand by without making someone pay for the transgression, then I shall heed your warning. If not, then don't get between my children and me!"
Thrall ducked as the dragon lifted his foot up, making his way towards the two drake riders.
"Neltharion, no!" he called. "This is a sanctuary of peace."
Neltharion thundered towards the Dragonmaw Clan members. They looked up, hairs standing on end as they felt the ground tremble violently with each heavy footfall. The crowd parted as the thick black pillar of his muscular foreleg came down upon the sand. Around him, the colors of the many shamans drained away as their fear rose to choke them. They dared not even interfere, hoping the Earth-Warder would not step on them for attempting to stop him from reaching the two orc shamans riding on black drakes. The two riders kicked their mounts and the two black drakes chirped, kicking off and launching into the air. Neltharion began to spread his wings, his muscular hind legs bunched up, ready to leap after them.
"Neltharion, no!" Thrall called.
Neltharion paused, watching the two riders fly away. He swung his head back to Thrall.
"My children!" he said in a powerful, earthquaking bellow. The people down below shrank back from the sound of his thunderous voice.
"I know," said Thrall.
"Tell me yo would not do the same for yours. Tell me now!"
"I would hunt them down to the ends of the earth," said Thrall as he slowly approached the fuming Aspect. "But my child is an orc. Yours are black dragons. This is different."
"Is it? Is it honestly that much different? Your children are orcs, you have the right to defend them. But mine? Mine are black dragons, so I have no right? I have to let them go–be slaves to my enemies. Who the hell are you to tell me, their lord and father that?"
Neltharion took in a deep breath, puffing his great chest out. Thrall could see the rips between his black scales, pulsating with a dull red glow. Then, he exhaled, expelling a cloud of hot, gray steam. As he expelled the cloud, Neltharion's form shrank, becoming the size of a night saber, the large feline mounts of the Night Elves. The Black Aspect growled as he stomped towards the former-warchief. Neltharion met Thrall's gaze, nose to nose, his nostrils quivering.
"Tell me this, Go'el," began Neltharion. "How is this any different when the Orcs, who ravaged my planet for the glory of those demons–only to be locked up by the defenders of my world until you came to free them? Tell me now what right do you have to say I should stand by now and let the Horde abuse my children when you've not stood by to allow your own people be aimless slaves of the Alliance?" The dragon circled him. "If you can stand there and tell me now I have to sit and take it, then the whole purpose of your New Horde was built upon hypocrisy!" he withdrew, fuming hotly, heat radiating from his scales, shimmering in the unforgiving sun. "Then, my wife was right all along about you–and the Horde. You are no better than you were when you came here to conquer Azeroth nearly 40 years ago."
"No!" Thrall said. "Calia is wrong."
"Worldmender," began a gruff, but contemplative voice. "Most of the Horde does not condone the actions of Garrosh and his special clique of warriors."
Neltharion turned to find a Tauren in leather robes walking towards him.
"Thunderbluff is still appalled by these transgressions," he said. "Please do not condemn all of us for the actions of a particular few."
"And by attacking those shamans, you've widened the rift between you and Garrosh," said Thrall. "The hope you and I held that we could bring both the Alliance and Horde together–you are allowing all that to slip away. Please, Neltharion, this is supposed to be a meeting to discuss regulations we must impose upon shamans in order to prevent a second Cataclysm."
Neltharion rumbled lowly and then walked around beside Thrall, settling down upon his belly. He said nothing else, deciding to keep his words to himself. He quietly fumed, his mouth drawing into a daunt frown. Thrall raised his hand, calling the attention of the gathered shamans. He took a moment to glanced back at the Aspect of Earth only to have the dragon shift his gaze away.
"I am sorry," said Thrall.
Neltharion only snorted, using that as his disgruntled reply. Thrall could only shake his head. Turning back towards the crowd, he took in a deep breath.
"Only earlier this week, man of us has witnessed the recent eruption of Mt. Oro," he began. "The Earth-Warder has informed me that the eruption was not caused by any upset elemental. It was nature. An that means the planet is well on the way to returning to normality." He paused, hearing the pleased murmurs from the crowd. "We of the Earthen Ring have spent these last years since the end of the Cataclysm healing the broken land. While we have been successful in our efforts, our duties to Azeroth is unending. But most importantly, we must now make sure the travesties of the Cataclysm does not happen again. The Earthen Ring must now begin preventative measures to make sure the planet remains in balance. The first of these limiting the usages of bound elementals. We have a new relationship with the Elemental Lords who helped us during the Cataclysm. I much rather not install any hostilities with our new friends."
Once more the crowd rumbled in agreement, bobbing heads up and down, and silently discussing with each other on how they would take on this new regulation Thrall suggested imposing. If there was any discrepancies, they were not being vocal about it. They knew not to argue with Thrall. However, Neltharion could sense some of them, especially those of the Horde–orcs mostly–silently disagreeing with Thrall. The Tauren of course were in full support of this, due to their over all peaceful nature and harmonious respect for the elements. Neltharion silently smiled, respecting them above all other Horde races. One of the Tauren shamans, the one who spoke up earlier in defense of his faction turned to the Earth-Warder and then nodded, further proving that he and his people were for this new regulation. The dragon returned the nod.
However, there were still those who did not agree, and those particular Neltharion set his emerald gaze upon. There was another group of orcs who segregated themselves from the rest of the group, traveling together in a clique, it seemed. Each of these orcs were dressed similar to the Dragonmaw orcs, and they too held the skin tone of Black Rock orcs, but Neltharion did not see them fly here on black drakes. Whether or not they did, they still held the Aspect's suspicion. Neltharion's eyes began to glow dully orange in the shadow of his brow. They looked upon him with intent and his forepaws curled as a growl rolled off his lips. The Earth-Warder looked back to Thrall and his right eye twitched. He could feel the skin under his black scales flush as his capillaries opened wide. He could feel the skin tingled as he set his jaw, the veins in his temples popping.
He fought himself, with great failing strength, he tried to restrain himself from pouncing upon those Black Rock orcs. The corner of Neltharion's lips tremble. The dragon shut his eyes, his thoughts drowning out Thrall's speech. The shaman's hearty voice grew more and more distant as Neltharion concentrated on the Black Rock orcs. He shut his eyes tightly as he softly thumped his index talon upon the white sand.
The looseness of the sand made the shadow of vibrations he created with his finger muted as he attempted to extend his ear out to hear what they were saying. Flashes of white and waves of gray speckled his vision, but the orcs images on the sand remained blurry. The sounds of their voices echoed with heavy distortion as if they were standing in a concert hall with bad acoustics.
Neltharion witched at the touch of a hand upon his scales. The touch was so jarring after he was concentrating upon the orcs that he nearly leapt into the crowd. His heart bounded into his throat. The dragon turned to the side to find Thrall with his hand upon Neltharion's shoulder, waiting for him to add his input to the discussion. All eyes were on him, including the two Black Rock orcs. The dragon swallowed–looking between Thrall and the crowd.
"Neltharion," said Thrall. "Your turn."
The dragon exhaled and wagged his head.
"I think you've said it all," he said. Neltharion smiled with some hesitation. "They'll listen to you more than they would me."
The Earth-Warder dipped his head and stepped backwards, giving the shaman more of the spotlight. Thrall took in a deep breath as he watched the dragon move towards the side where many of the Alliance shamans were standing, taking a spot beside Nobundo. Thrall felt his heart clinch, realizing the dragon was now showing his true colors–blue
Neltharion, over the course of two years was slowly and slowly siding with the Alliance. Of course, this push was mostly due to Garrosh's actions rather than a simple choice of his own. Thrall understood that the Great Dragon Aspects had to remain neutral when it came to the petty conflicts of the mortals, they could not take sides. But due to the recent actions of the Horde, bringing the Dragonmaw Clan, orcs who enslaved Neltharion's children and slaughtered the adult black dragons to decorate their huts with their hides, the Aspect was becoming more and more drawn to the lesser of the two evils.
Neltharion's relationship with Varian was not friendly at all, but it was much better than his relationship with Garrosh who only saw him and his children as tools for war or enemies to be slaughtered. Despite his friendly relationship with some of the Tauren shamans and druids and a few orc shamans, Neltharion was at odds with the Horde as a whole because of Garrosh's "anti-Earth-Warder" propaganda.
And because of all this, the Earth-Warder had made an unspoken choice what side he took in this petty mortal war.
The Alliance was not using his children against their will, the Alliance, despite what Deathwing had done to them, was not trying to hunt Neltharion down like some rabid animal. The Alliance was being more tolerant of the Earth-Warder's presence. Even if that toleration was mostly in Theramore, where the people had gotten rather desensitized by the presence of a gigantic Black Dragon Aspect flying over their city, drinking in their tavern, or just walking down the street to go to market. From what Thrall heard, Neltharion was practically a citizen of Theramore Isle. And he could tell by the color of the Earth-Warder's black beard, slightly sun-kissed auburn and gold at the tips due to his many days bathing in the sun on Theramore's southern beach. Just about every human citizen of Theramore was tanned golden brown and had sun-kissed hair with heavy thick waves that mirrored the ocean it guarded. Neltharion could not tan due to his black scales, but his hair still showed that Theramore look. Even his scent had changed–smelling like that of sea salt rather than the sulfur stench of a volcano.
Thrall shook his head again and took another breath.
Neltharion watched him as he continued his speech, however his eyes slowly roved back towards the two suspicious orcs. Nobundo followed his gaze and leaned closer to the dragon.
"Something wrong?" he asked.
"Black Rock orcs," said Neltharion. "Dressed similar to the Dragonmaw I chased away earlier. Their not saying anything about Thrall's regulations, but I can tell they don't agree with it."
"They don't have to, but they do need to follow it."
Neltharion rumbled, turning away.
"I don't like it," he said. "This is bringing back some bad memories." He flipped a braid and sighed. "Like Queen Azshara and the Well of Eternity–bad memories."
Nobundo reached up to scratch his chin in deep contemplation. Then, he placed his hand upon Neltharion's shoulder, scratching between the scales.
"Cool your thoughts, my friend," began the Broken Draenei. "If Garrosh and his shamans do anything harmful, he will be punished for it. But we must catch it first."
Neltharion sniffed, once more giving no verbal reply.
But no one cares what happens to my children, he thought. My children are left as slaves. Everyone would leap to the call of Thrall if his child is stolen, but if I ask people to come to my aid to help my children, all I would get would be silence. Just to say we deserve what we get. Do I honestly deserve this?
Neltharion began to bury himself within his own thoughts. His thoughts ran deep and all he could see were the Dragonmaw and the utter subjugation of his dear children. The dragon's still tingled and flushed with each thought that rolled in his mind. Lost in his thoughts, Neltharion drowned Thrall's voice once more.
The sun waned in the sky, slowly arching towards the west as the crystal blue turned a rich, golden orange. The meeting had adjourned and each shaman were mounting up on the creatures or vehicles that brought them there. Goblins climbed upon their motorized dune buggies, the engines heaved and popped with a boom and black smoke rising up out of the exhaust pipes. Tauren mounted upon their massive kodo beasts, sitting upon covered saddles, the enormous, thick hided rhino-reptiles trumpeted as they slowly lumbered on over the soft dunes. The orcs got upon their Windrunners and flew off towards Orgrimmar while the Wildhammer dwarves mounted upon their gryphons. Many of the dwarves appeared to be heading back towards Theramore. The Draenei and Broken Draenei hopped upon their Elekk, a type of medium-sized elephant-like creature native to Outland.
Neltharion looked around, watching for the Black Rock orcs he saw, trying to see where they had hid their mounts. As he looked around, he heard a terrible howl and several black, shaggy, fur-covered creatures leapt out over his head. The dragon ducked down, tumbling upon the sand as three great, black and gray furred dire wolves bounded over him. Neltharion rose up to shake the sand from his scales and to find the Black Rock orcs riding upon these wolves. They paused to only peer back at him momentarily, and then they ran off, heading north towards the Barrens. Neltharion started for them, until he was stopped by a hand. He gasped, turning behind him to see Thrall.
"It's not worth it," he said.
"Those orcs..."
"Neltharion, please," Thrall began. "Listen to me. It's very delicate right now. I'm sorry, but you can't go running off, killing orcs just because you have a grudge against the Dragonmaw or Garrosh." He wagged his head. "You truly are sounding more and more like Calia and Varian."
"That's not funny," said Neltharion with a huff.
"I'm not trying to be funny," said Thrall.
"Look, don't talk to me about what I should or shouldn't do, Thrall," said Neltharion. "Especially when the Dragonmaw shouldn't be using my children as mounts, or wall decorations! And if you are honestly my brother in this, then you should be with me on this. You should be finding a way to help me in saving them!"
"Neltharion–"
The dragon growled again. Thrall could feel the sand shift under him as Neltharion focused his anger upon the ground. He turned to see the dunes begin to flow like waves of an ocean with the rumbling and trembling of the solid rock beneath them. A spout of sand exploded out in a cloud as hot gas released from underneath. Neltharion leaned back upon his haunches and brought his forepaws up. He began to crack his knuckles, curling his claws into fists.
"You know, even if I'm the size of a night saber," he began. "If I slam my fist against your jaw, I might make your brain pop out of your skull."
Thrall paused, his eyes widened at the words Neltharion said.
"But I'm sure you don't want me to do that, do you?" Neltharion asked. "Huh? One punch, Thrall. That's all it'll take. One punch, and you're dead." He slammed his fists together and the sound of the boom created from the force made Thrall's chest vibrate. "Just one punch."
"I don't think you'll get very far with threats, Neltharion," said Thrall, collecting himself. "And I'm not your enemy!"
"Keep reminding me that the next time you decide to get in my way!"
"Neltharion!" Thrall called, balling his own fists up as he watched the dragon walk away. "I'm sorry, but things have to be as they are–just for mow."
"Two years," said Neltharion. "Two years. I should have done something when I was in the Twilight Highlands. I should have burned their houses down."
"And what good what that do?" Thrall asked. "Would that change the Dragonmaw's mind? Would it bring your children back?"
Neltharion turned back to the orc: "You honestly don't care do you? You are just like the rest of them. Who cares if black dragons get harmed–they obviously deserve what they get because their leader shattered the planet." He spread his wings. "Because I deserve to feel them suffer because I fucked up! I get it! I deserve to the little bitch everyone has to slap around all because I fucked up. Well, I've learned my lesson time to let my children go. I'm not going to be just thankful that I saved a very small few. I won't be satisfied until they're all saved. Even if that means I have to raze Orgrimmar to the ground."
"Neltharion."
"Don't think I won't."
"Think for just one moment."
"That Horde you created is running on borrowed time. And the sands are running out!"
Thrall sighed, wagging his head: "Please. Just go home, and sleep on it, Neltharion. Sleep on it. Return to your Calia, hold her in your arms and–let all of it go. I will try to figure out how to help your children, but you and I can't do that while you're so hot under the collar."
Neltharion looked away, staring hotly at the sand, watching them turn a bright umber with the setting sun.
"You know why I'm acting like this?" he asked.
Thrall wagged his head. Neltharion looked back at him. The orc could see the glistening lines of tears as it flowed between the cracks of his scales upon his cheeks.
"I'm acting like this because I'm scared," Neltharion replied. "And the last time I was this scared, I was sensing the horror that Queen Aszhara was doing with the Well of Eternity. I could sense what she was doing, and I was afraid of it. But I said nothing, I kept it all to myself. That fear became my paranoia later on. Then my need to protect this world only made it worse–and then the Old Gods spoke to me. You can only predict what happened after that."
"Deathwing," said Thrall.
"Yes," said Neltharion. "My fear, coupled with my undying need to protect the planet, created my paranoia, and when I was pushed in the right direction, Deathwing was made. Well, that fear is coming back, that need to protect my world against a force that could threaten it has come back–in another form–but it's there. I've sat and listened to Orgrimmar from all the way in Theramore. I can't hear anything. It's like Orgrimmar is empty space. Somehow, Garrosh has figured out that I could listen in on him through the rock and found a way to block me. I don't know how, but not hearing anything coming from Orgrimmar is worrying me even more." He took in a deep breath. "I'm worried. I'm very worried. It's more about not what he is doing, but how the damn hell did he manage to hide from me like that? If he can hide from me, hide from the Aspect of Earth–the Aspect that can see any secret, then what else is Garrosh capable of doing? What else can he do? One mortal, Thrall, just one, and he seems to have the ability to blind fold me. I am scared that he can do that."
Thrall took in a deep breath as the dragon wiped his eyes.
"He's doing something," said Neltharion. "And I'm horrified." He sniffed. "You're the only one who can get close enough to figure out what he is doing, at least figure out how he's able to hide from me."
"Come on, Neltharion," said Thrall. "Everyone has a right to privacy."
Neltharion wagged his head.
"Listen to me, you can't be spying on everyone you think may be a danger to Azeroth. It isn't right. You have to allow people to have some slack–some moving room. Protect the planet, that is all you do, protect the planet. Move the continents, forge the rivers, uplift the mountains and flatten out the plains. Keep the elementals in check. Let mortals handle mortals. You handle the planet."
Neltharion took in a deep breath, pointing a sharp talon at the orc: "Do not tell me what I am supposed to do as an Aspect. I'm the Earth-Warder, not you!"
"I–was–in a way," said Thrall. "I held your place until you were able to take it back."
"Go'el, the Earth-Warder," said Neltharion in a scoff. "Doesn't have a good ring to it." The Black Dragon stepped back, allowing himself to regain his true, towering size. He spread his wings wide, and the setting sun suddenly gave way to night. "There's more to it than just forging rivers, sculpting mountains, and flattening plains, Thrall. A lot more. I am the Keeper of Secrets as well as the Guardian of Azeroth. And the day that someone figures out how to hide a secret that I cannot keep, then, my job just got a bit more complicated."
The Earth-Warder kicked off the ground and took to the purple sky. Thrall fell back from the gail force of his great wings as the dragon flapped–gaining altitude. The orc rose with a groan and dusted himself off, the grains of sand burning him upon his elbows when he slid into them. He looked back up into the sky as the last light of the setting sun peaked out from the rolling dune horizon, cutting their black surface with orange ribbons. The Earth-Warder had vanished.
§§§
Neltharion landed at a sandy cave in Tanaris. Bands of red, gray, and tan decorated the sweeping opening. About the top of the mountains that made up this cave's exterior were fragments buildings, ancient monuments and artifacts of long forgotten history. Outside the doorway were two bronze dragons, guarding vigilantly at the entrance. He slowly began to approach them and stopped right at their bellowing warning. He could sense them shaking disturbingly at his presence, as to be expected due to his great size. He still instilled fear among the other dragonflights. Only his brother and sisters–and Kalecgos–showed no fear when he was around.
"Stay there, Earth-Warder," said one of them. "You have not been invited into the Caverns of Time."
Then, the wind picked up around them as the sand about their feet came to life, echoing a whisper of a voice.
Let my brother through.
"You heard him," said Neltharion. "Let me through."
They parted and dipped their heads as Neltharion walked through the cave's opening. He walked slowly down a long, enormous corridor of smooth sandstone. He could hear the howl of the wind trapped from within the cavern. Before him was an eerie purple glow. As Neltharion continued on through the caverns, it finally opened up to another world all together. He exited the tunnel and came into the actual caverns, were were not caverns at all, but in fact a pocket dimension that was just displaced from time itself.
One thing Neltharion had to admit, aside from himself, Nozdormu was also the last dragon anyone should ever mess with. Nozdormu, the Time Lord, the keeper of Azeroth's past, present, and future, was the wielder of time displacement, dilation, and time speed. He existed everywhere in time. Neltharion discovered there were in fact thousands of Nozdormus, all in existence due to chance and how fragmented Azeroth's timeline had become.
What if the Black Portal was never opened? There was a Nozdormu there to see it.
What if Old Kalimdor did not break apart? There was a Nozdormu there to see it.
What if Neltharion never became Deathwing? There was a Nozdormu who was there to see it.
However, as Neltharion learned, all those events–it was all apart of a grand plan–a story that was already written from day one when the Titans first came here and reorganized the world. Including the bits about Deathwing, which only made the Black Aspect's blood boil. It all had to happen, no matter what.
Above, Neltharion beheld a dark sky filled with stars and many planets and moons. Streaking through the sky were bands of purple energy and asteroids tumbling along a belt. He stood at the center of an endless desert in a completely different world of constant night. In the sky, he saw the Bronze Dragonflight flying, keeping their vigil of all the events of Azeroth. Strange, alien rock formations that even Neltharion questioned how they were formed, guarded portals to specific events to history and there bronze drakes and dragonspawn took up watch to make sure anyone who came through into the Caverns did not step into the wrong era.
Come to me, Neltharion.
Neltharion took in a deep breath and then spread his wings, taking off into the stark, eerie, alien sky.
Follow my voice.
The Black Aspect dipped his head as he flew across the vast desert. Behind him, the tunnel that he came through vanished in the darkness. All he had now was the endless desert and the alien sky. The streaks of purple hummed with a metallic shimmering sound as they arched across the sky. Neltharion paused at the sight of a bright flash and loud thunderous boom. His eyes widened as he saw a star swell up to an enormous size, turning red as it swelled. He could feel the scorching heat upon his scales as it came closer and closer to him. The Black Dragon shielded his face with his paws the bright star blinding his eyes. Then, the star shrank back and exploded in a violent force of hot, fiery gas. Neltharion was suddenly struck to the ground by the force, his eyes shut tightly. He slammed hard upon the sand and covered his stinging body with his wings as the waves of energy washed over him. Then, it was cold, ice cold. Neltharion shivered as he rose from the sand, his breath forming wisps of steam as he gasped for air. He looked down upon himself, noticing widening glowing orange cracks forming along his scales–just as they did when he was Deathwing. But he was not swelling from power–the cracks he had were caused by that star exploding. They stung, throbbed and ached.
But as the night suddenly grew colder, and colder, the glows between the cracks faded. Neltharion could feel it happening, his heart slowing. The magma coursing through his veins began to harden. His heart thumped on painfully, trying to pump the solidifying chunks into his body. His whole body was freezing over, hardening like the rocks he protected. He could feel the core inside his chest growing as it hardened. His eyes slowly began ice over–the only bit of true flesh he had frozen as his body became deathly still.
Entropy, Neltharion. Do not fear it. It is what will become of all of usss assss we reach to a more sssstable sssstate.
Another bright flash lit up the sky and Neltharion could feel the heat swelling all around him. The searing heat warmed his body and he began to melt. As the heat churned on, his body became molten, glowing a bright, fiery orange. The outside hardened, turning black, like volcanic glass, sealing in the molten, beating core. His features formed again, recognizable, and his beard grew long from his chin. His horns formed, growing long and large from his box-like head. Then, out from his head and spine grew a mane of purple amethyst crystals. Neltharion reached up to touch the crystals, smiling slightly, welcoming them back after so long. He looked whole again. He was slender as well, smaller, younger. He felt so light. Neltharion laughed as he laid upon the sand, a broad grin spreading across his face.
Jussst wait one bit more...
But his happiness came to a halt as he felt his body beginning to swell. Neltharion grunted, holding onto himself as his black scales ripped open, revealing the molten core inside–the secret he held but never knew he had until that fated day when Deathwing took over. His chest split open and the lava erupted from the fissure. His body grew to its new size, three times that of what he was prior to the War of the Ancients. Neltharion could hear the sounds of hammers banging against metal and something piercing along his spine and chest. Piece by piece, the elementium armor was bolted upon him, encasing him in metal. Finally, the metal chin was bolted upon his face, the plates fastened to his back and the long bars held his chest together. Neltharion looked about himself, staring with sorrow and horror at his metal prison.
But then, as he looked on, the plates, one by one, began to disappear. His body slimmed out a little, but his size still remain the same. The brace upon his chin disappeared, revealing his flowing black, silky beard. The only armored plates that remained were still bolted to his back, covering his now mangled amethyst crystal mane. Neltharion gasped and leaned upon the sand, shaking from what just happened to him.
"Are you alright, Neltharion?"
The Black Dragon lifted his head and turned around to find a large, Bronze Dragon behind him. The dragon was barely half his size, his hide covered in brassy gold scales. Two teal blue eyes stared up at Neltharion and he smiled slightly. Around his neck was an impossibly long, striped, wooly scarf. Only one dragon wore that ridiculous scarf.
"Nozdormu," said Neltharion. "Big brother."
Nozdormu reared upon his hind legs and spread his forelegs wide, giving his hefty brother a much needed hug. The Bronze Aspect was Neltharion's only remaining brother, since Malygos had died during the Nexus War. Nozdormu, for many thousands of years, had decided to keep himself to his duties, rarely wanting company from the rest of his family. Though, recent events forced him to come out of hiding. Even more so, because Neltharion has returned to him, he wanted to be with his little brother. Malygos and Neltharion shared a deep bond, they were inseparable. And Neltharion was never a stranger when he came to visit Malygos in the north, nor was Malygos a stranger when he came to visit Neltharion deep underground. That is until Deathwing happened. Nozdormu knew he had a long time to even reach to that level, but he hoped to begin the first step. So, he made himself promise that he would always visit Neltharion.
They held each other close, not even saying anything, but then, Nozdormu let go.
"Be careful when you're here, little brother," he said.
"What was that?" Neltharion asked.
"Time on disssplay," said Nozdormu. "Even we cannot escape it." He patted the Earth-Warder's chest. "I'm ssso glad you came to visit. And I kept my promise, didn't I?"
"Coming to visit me as often as you can," said Neltharion. "I know. And for me to do the same."
"You are welcomed here," said Nozdormu. "Even if my flight doesn't think ssso."
"I'm glad you knew I was coming."
"I alwaysss do," he said. "And I sssaw what happened in the desert."
Neltharion took in a deep breath: "I need your advise, Nozdormu."
"Excellent! I've waited long for you to say those wordsss."
"Nozdormu," said Neltharion. "Something is happening."
"I know."
Neltharion shifted: "Garrosh is hiding something from me. I can't see what he's doing."
"I know."
"Can you tell me what it is?" he asked. "How is he able to–"
"I am sssorry, Neltharion," said Nozdormu. "I'm not going to play exposition dragon today. What Garrosh is doing, unfortunately, you will have to find out for yourssself."
"What?"
"Listen to me," he began, resting a claw upon Neltharion's chest. "Time is fragile right now. A great event will occur and it will waken those who have been asssleep for a long time. You mussst allow this event to happen, or Azeroth will never be truly prepared."
"The sleepers-must-awaken and a what now?" Neltharion asked. "Have you been dabbing in the spice again? I smell cinnamon on you."
"What I'm trying to sssay, dear brother," began Nozdormu. "If you run off right now, and attack Garrosh with nothing to go on, you will drive a chasm between you and everyone in Azeroth. You, Neltharion, because of who you are now–who you interact with–who you know–have the power to make or break everything. You have the power to bring everyone together–join their hearts with your own and see to it that the greater threat will not destroy this world. But if you act now, if you travel down this paranoid road and attack the Horde for nothing than your own ssselfish reasons–no one will stand behind you."
"Selfish?" he asked. "They have my children!"
"They have some of them," said Nozdormu. "They don't have them all, do they? I know it hurts, they are members of your flight–but you must let them go for now. The Dragonmaw will get what they deserve, trusst me. The day will come–and when it comes, you will have everyone on thisss planet behind you to ssstop them. But before that happensss–all of Azeroth mussst sssee Garrosh and his followers for what they are. And to do that, a terrible event must happen. And an Aspect, for the first time–will truly have to take a side in this war. This Horde and Alliance War–it's a war that keeps Azeroth separated. And we Aspects cannot just stand by and allow it to continue. But–if any of us were to step in now, we would be doing the wrong thing. However, you–you who's wife is the last heir to Lordaeron, who's friends with the Lady of Theramore, who mentor the Prince of Stormwind, and who calls himself brother to the former Warchief of the New Horde, and has gained the respect of many–whether you see it or not. They will be looking to you. But if you attack Garrosh and his Dragonmaw for what you saw at that meeting, you will lose all the respect you gained over these two years."
Neltharion took in a deep breath, bowing his head.
"So, I was right, Garrosh is planning something terrible," said the Black Aspect.
"Did I say the event was his fault?" Nozdormu asked. "But hisss actions afterwards–that is what will make or break this world. But don't let your paranoia drive you to do something you will regret. Believe me, you'll regret it."
Neltharion wagged his head.
"Don't worry, you won't be alone," said Nozdormu. "You'll have help, and a new friend. Hopefully you won't jussst consider him a replacement for an old friend. Because of your fractured memories, and your second chance, it ssseems you've become younger than you were prior to the War of the Ancients. The wrinkles of nearly 70 thousand years of life have been lifted away. Because of that, Neltharion, he is much closer to your age than the rest of ussss."
Neltharion tilted his head: "So, what you're saying is instead of being in my late 60s, I'm 10 again? I'm a–kid?"
"What I wouldn't do to have at least 40 thousand years lifted from me," said Nozdormu with a chuckle. "Consider yourself lucky you're the only one of us who managed to find the Fountain of Youth."
"I'm 10."
"You're brash and unpredictable, prone to some minor tantrumssss, and always wanting to have your way no matter what. And you seem to believe your fists can solve all your problems. That is not the Neltharion I remember–at least the Neltharion you became prior to Deathwing. However, you were much like that when you were just coming to ten thousandssss or so years. Brash, unreasonable, prone to fits of anger, and trying to solve all your problems with brute force."
Neltharion sighed, rolling upon the sand: "I don't wanna hear anymore."
"I did ssssay if only we all could be so lucky to have found the Fountain of Youth," said Nozdormu, placing his claw upon Neltharion's shoulder.
"That Fountain is spending ten thousand years trapped inside while some parasite controls my body and attempts to destroy the world," said Neltharion. Then, he raised his head. "I wonder if when I finally redeem you from being Murozond, that you'll get your youth back as well?"
Nozdormu sighed and wagged his head. His eyes became downcast, his wings drooped upon the sand.
"I told you, Neltharion," he began. "My fate is sssealed. You could be saved, but I cannot. And you will be the one to call upon the people who will put an end to my evil. All the more reason for you to gain the trust of the masses."
Neltharion rose from the sand and took hold of his brother's shoulder.
"I have to figure out how to save you, big brother," he said.
"It is as you said once," Nozdormu began. "You can't save everyone."
The Earth-Warder lowered his head and a tear dropped from his eyelid, splashing upon the sand. Nozdormu turned around and leaned into his brother's arms. Neltharion extended his wings and wrapped his brother up in them.
"Believe me, I know the pain of losing family," said Nozdormu. "Each day, I lose more and more of my flight to the Infinite. Each day, I sssee more and more of them mutating and changing. And then–the day will come and I will be alone. Then, it will happen to me." He looked up at his younger brother. "You and I–we were made so different. Made to be the ones to carry our burdens. What joys our brother and sisters had–life, dreams, magic, when we are partitioners of entropy, the embodiment of what our fathers made us for. Norgannon and Eonar–they never did what Aman'Thul and Khaz'goroth did–they never built them around their powers."
Neltharion dipped his head.
"Tell me, little brother," Nozdormu began. "Ssssomething I've always wanted to know about you. What piece of Khaz'goroth did the Maker of Worlds clone to create you with?"
Neltharion let go of his brother and then pointed up at his eyes.
"You ever wanted to know why other black dragons have orange or yellow eyes, except for me?" he asked. "Why are my eyes green? My eyes are my father's eyes."
"They do not look like the eyes a dragon would have," said Nozdormu. "But the eyes of a Titan."
"What piece did Aman'Thul clone to make you with?"
"Hisss vocal cordsss."
"Your voice is Aman'Thul's voice?" Neltharion asked.
"Yesss."
"Does he have the lisp too?"
"No, he didn't have the lisssp!" Nozdormu said with a snort at Neltharion's rather innocent question. "And if my father didn't make me with thisss huge tongue, I would truly sssound just like him."
"Why did he give you that lisp?" asked Neltharion.
"Dessspite what people tend to think about the leader of the Pantheon," began Nozdormu. "He pridesss himself on his practical jokessss. Each time I sspeak, I can hear my father laughing."
"Ouch," said Neltharion. He sighed as he looked away. "The only memories I have of my father is him looking at me with this disgruntled frown–as if when he looked on me, he saw every failure I was about to make. And then I would see that face of his looking at me and I could swear him saying: 'I knew that kid of mine was a waste of effort and resources.'"
Nozdormu nodded: "Seems like both our fathers are basically assholes."
"Yep."
"Yep."
They stood in silence, just looking up at the swirling starry sky. Only the sound of the wind blowing over the dunes provided the noise upon this silence. Then, Nozdormu looked back at Neltharion and tapped him upon the shoulder.
"Come on, there's a tavern in Tanaris that sells Ssspice Beer," he began. "You should try some. It will knock you flat."
"I knew you were hitting the spice again," said Neltharion.
"What can I say?" asked Nozdormu. "It's rather addicting. Come on. I'm buying."
Neltharion chuckled: "My wife would kill me if I come waddling back to Theramore blind-stinking drunk." He paused and looked up at the starry sky again. "And claiming I can see the future."
"Don't worry, you can take a nap in the Cavernsss," said Nozdormu. "Besssides, after what happened today, you look like you need a good, ssstiff drink."
"You don't know how much," said Neltharion.
"I should treat you to thissss new brand of green cocktail they've got at the tavern," said Nozdormu. "Ssssome of my dragons have been coming home after drinking the ssstuff, they couldn't move for a week."
"Sounds tempting," said Neltharion. "What's it called?"
"Ryncol," said Nozdormu.
"Never heard of it," said Neltharion.
"I haven't either," he said. "But whatever it isss, it's powerful. They sssaid they got it from a bunch of kodo-looking humanoidsss who crash-landed much like the Draenei did up north. The travelers traded some parts for the drink and repaired their ship–and then off they went."
"Azeroth's a giant space magnet to attract just about every alien in the universe," said Neltharion. "But if this drink is as good as you say it is–I think I'm going to take some of it home with me."
"It is," said Nozdormu. "No mortal could ssssurvive the drink, but it's perfect for us dragons."
Neltharion grinned. He could not wait until he could drink this horrible day into obscurity. The two dragons walked on, heading back towards the entrance, smiling as they talked.
Just two brothers.