XVIII
He dove into every lake and river he could find on his speedy flight across the lands of Northrend. His body was hot, too hot to even dare come near mortals without harming them. The last thing he needed were innocents to die just by proximity of his great form. Though, with every cool water he bathed in, Neltharion paused to look upon his face, the change in it. He felt the white streaks in his beard had widened since he last saw it, or perhaps it was because he had better lighting to see just how much it changed. His eyes still glowed the cold blue-white and his body radiated with the defused arcane energy from the mana bomb. He could not get rid of that.
Each douse of cold water refreshed him as he washed away the volcanic ash that clung to his black scales. He sparkled again like black diamonds. At last the splits closed, hiding the glowing rifts between the scales. Neltharion circled over the Obsidian Dragonshrine, allowing the warm air rising from its own volcano to dry his wet hair. He landed upon the edge of the crater looking out over the valley of tall pines, bubbling mud pots and the lovely rainbow colored hot spring. Life created from his own tears of sorrow and loss.
The dragons he lost in Theramore will never be able to return to this peaceful rest, Garrosh stole that from them as well.
The Dragon Aspect took a moment to remember them. Laying in the center was his former Prime Consort, Sintharia, still preserved by the ancient energies of the shrine to watch over her children. Neltharion look upon her still form, bowing his head and his tears fall again.
"There are times when I wonder if I really can do this without you," he said. "Maybe I can't and this is the curse you have for me––make me pay for the hurt I caused you. The pain, the humiliation. And I accept it, Sintharia, I accept it. Just––right now, I have to make them hurt more than me. There were Horde heroes that took you away from as well as Alliance––but at least I found solace with the Alliance––for a brief moment. I have found none of that with the Horde no matter how much I've tried to look for it." He sniffed. "Perhaps they are as the demons who controlled them, the demons who first spilled out of the portal created by Queen Azshara. I will not let this happen again. Not to you, not to Malygos––not to Calia––not to anyone else. If I have to take them all down, one by one, I will protect this world from another Azshara––one in brown skin." He took in a deep breath. "Their methods are different, but their motives are the same. She wanted to remake this world in her vision, so does he. And though I failed to stop her, ten thousand years, I have been granted a second chance to right the wrong. I will be Earth-Warder I am supposed to be, protect this world from the alien invaders that threaten it. I will expel them from my world."
Then, he dove from the rocky wall, extending his great wings gracefully and took to a long, swinging glide. He followed the path away from the Dragonblight and into the Crystalsong Forest. There, Neltharion was bathed in the light of a thousand gleaming crystalline trees of lavender. He heard their strange song as it rang out through the valley. Arcane energy broke up through the surface, splitting the ground in rivers of purple light. Great trees of crystal arched for the sky, spinning as they hovered over their own trunks. Though, this place had a particular memory for Neltharion himself. This was where Deathwing forced his beloved flight to slaughter blue dragons one after another after the Sundering happened. This is where he made his beloved brother cry for the deaths of his flight. He landed upon the ground, his body filling the forest itself. Neltharion extended his wings out and the light of the trees glittered upon their velvet membrane.
Many centuries after the Sundering, when Neltharion's mind was locked away and tormented by the presence of Deathwing and his flight controlled by the parasite's whims; Deathwing delighted in making the Earth-Warder see the suffering he caused, for that brought more pain and sorrow to the Aspect than any other. And so, Deathwing and the now maddened Black Dragonflight flew over a vast green forest set in a frosty valley to do battle with the Blue Dragonflight. Neltharion was made to watch, expelled into nothing more than ethereal spirit, his own soul bound to a lump of coal sticking out from the mountain cliff. Imprisoned within this phylactery, Neltharion was forced to watch as his beloved flight slaughtered blue dragons one after another. He heard the anguishing cry of his brother Malygos as the Blue Aspect was driven from the battle. He heard the wicked laughter of Deathwing delighting over the spilt blood of the blue dragons. And Neltharion wept as he watched horror after horror. He curled up upon the cliff, shedding his ethereal tears as his flight massacred one blue dragon after another. Then, one last blue dragon roared a curse upon the black dragons and the valley itself exploded into a brilliant wave of violet light. The light destroyed many black dragons, turning them into crystal as well as the trees and shrubs that covered the forest. As the dragons plummeted to the ground, they shattered. But did Deathwing cry out for vengeance? No, Neltharion could remember that very vividly. Deathwing laughed, being the only dragon left flying over the valley. The parasite that inhabited his tattered body returned to the cliff to retrieve the hapless Neltharion from his temporary prison and reabsorbed him. Then, he asked the weeping spirit a simple question.
"Did you enjoy my little show, whelp?"
Of course Neltharion did not. Broke down and wept again as Deathwing laughed, mocking his tears.
"I have wronged you so many times, Malygos," he said. "And here more than anywhere else, I can still feel the pain of your sorrow. Now, the forest that covered the marsh are also crystal––like the ones here––caused by a similar blast that killed my family too. I won't ever wrong you again. I will make it right. I don't know why you've left me now. Why has your spirit gone? And I need you now more than ever. I need your guidance. Am I doing what I am supposed to do? Or is this Deathwing––is this Deathwing again directing my body to perform these heinous acts of vengeance? I don't feel him anymore."
He looked towards the sky to spy the great magus city of Dalaran floating just overhead a thousand feet into the air. The city itself was nearly 30 square miles in diameter, a great feat of magic to suspend that much rock up into the sky and keep it floating over the forest. The city itself once resided upon the ground in the Eastern Kingdoms in the kingdom called Dalaran. The kingdom itself was home to many mages who came to study the ancient arts. There was a great reason for this as Dalaran rested upon one of the largest leylines on the planet. Neltharion knew this as well as he could hear the ringing chime of the magical energies inside the rock near where the crater is now.
During the Second War, Deathwing sacked the city in search for the Eye of Dalaran. The Death Knight Teron Gorefiend rode upon his back. The Worldbreaker allowed himself to ally with the Old Horde out of necessity. He would help Ner'zhul gain the various magical items the shaman needed in order to open vast portals to other worlds, of course in return for safe passage into Draenor for his eggs. Deathwing sent Sabellian and many other adult dragons in through the portal, carting eggs with them, protected by Horde soldiers while the Great Black and Teron gathered the various magical artifacts. Deathwing himself managed to get ahold of the skull of the powerful orc warlock Gul'dan, leader of the Shadow Council––which would later become the Twilight's Hammer. Then, upon his new mountain lair, Deathwing did battle with the archmage Khadgar, defending his eggs while the Gronn bashed them to bits. Khadgar's own magic could do nothing against the Aspect's great heat. But then, a simple spell was all that Khadgar needed in order to at least send the Great Black into retreat. He cast a spell which began to pry the adamantine plates from Deathwing's back. The dragon bellowed out in pain as his magmatic blood erupted from the wounds. Then, he flew off, cursing Khadgar, saying that he knew the human's face now and there was nothing the mage could do if he ever cross paths again with the Aspect. Deathwing left Sabellian and what remained of the black dragon eggs to their fate when Ner'zhul's portals broke the planet apart. Neltharion could never forget the pleading cries of Sabellian as the young dragon begged for his father not to leave him behind.
It was because of this abandonment that Sabellian showed no love to Neltharion when they first met after nearly 20 years of silence. Khadgar and the Alliance Expedition closed the Dark Portal before the energies from Ner'zhul's mistakes rushed through to engulf Azeroth as well. Deathwing could never return to discover what happened to his eggs until the Burning Crusade reopened the Portal again.
However, during that time, after barely surviving Arthas' attack during the Third War, Dalaran City took to the sky, leaving behind a crater in its wake. As Malygos awoke in the Nexus during the war against the Lich King, ready to steal away the magic from those he believed would use it for ill purposes, Dalaran and the Kirin Tor made their way to the "roof of the world" to fight him. Now, here Dalaran hovers still remaining in Northrend keeping a neutral position and away from the war between the Alliance and the Horde.
Neltharion took to the skies himself to fly over the floating magical city of crystal spires and pastel colors. The Violet Citadel glistened in the midnight sun, summer was at its peak in Northrend. Streaks of indigo, sunset orange, and red shimmered across the pale sky, the northern lights danced overhead. Neltharion's form shrank down as he neared Krasus' Landing, name for––of course Korialstrasz, who was a prominent figure in the Kirin Tor. Mages who were out on the Landing scattered quickly when they saw him fly in. Though a few still stayed, only eying him cautiously. He managed to gain some respect, or at least what he could tell was respect from the citizens of Dalaran, especially after his many visits with Rhonin and their bar hopping to reminisce about old times with Krasus. Already, the Dalaran guards were being summoned as Neltharion began his walk through the elaborate streets. Just as he was about to make it across the grounds nearing the Violet Citadel, he was stopped––by none other than Khadgar himself.
The aging archmage dipped his head as he approached the Black Aspect. Neltharion had not met Khadgar since the mage's and Deathwing's battle. He visited Rhonin many times, but Khadgar––who decided to make his home in Outland near A'dal, the leader of the Sha'tar Naaru in Shattrath City. However, ever so now and then, Khadgar returned through the Dark Portal in order to be present during meetings of the Council of Six.
"Well, how long has it been?" Khadgar asked. "Twenty years, maybe more? Since I tore those plates off your back."
Neltharion remained silent.
"I know, you're not here to cause trouble," said Khadgar as he approached the dragon. "I know who you are––Neltharion, the Earth-Warder. Not Deathwing the Destroyer, right?"
Neltharion nodded silently.
"So, the affects of the mana bomb did not just alter Jaina's appearance, it altered yours," he said. "I know what you tried to do, stop the bomb from destroying Theramore."
Neltharion sniffed, his nostrils twitching as he breathed.
"Well, aren't you going to say something?" Khadgar asked. "How about a 'hello'?"
"Hello, Khadgar," said Neltharion in a very monotone pitch. "Please don't tear my plates off. It kinda hurts. I am not here to destroy Dalaran, I'm just looking for Jaina."
Then, the dragon bowed his head, finding his forepaws more interesting than the human who was able to best the evil parasite inhabiting his body with such a simple spell. Khadgar started to laugh. Neltharion looked upon the arch mage. Khadgar's age was not very natural to say the least. He was only eight years older than Calia, but he bore the appearance of a 70-year old. Medivh, who was Khadgar's teacher, had cursed him with a spell that caused him to prematurely age when he was only seventeen, after Khadgar had bested him and the spirit of Sargeras and plunged a dagger into the Guardian's heart. Khadgar managed to find ways of reversing some of the effects, however, it made the man who should at least be close to middle age still look far older than he was. The archmage placed a hand upon Neltharion's shoulder, noting how cool it felt to the touch.
"Just promise me you won't possess my statue like you did those months ago," he said. "They had to build me a new one after you wrecked the old."
"Well, Deathwing knocked over Trollbane's statue," said Neltharion.
"I heard about that too," said Khadgar. "And I am more than aware you're not Deathwing. While I was in Shattrath, someone from Dalaran presented me with a newspaper. It showed you and Rhonin looking rather despicable, drunk out of your minds and with women's undergarments draping over your heads."
Neltharion's lip twitched into a smile.
"I could not believe my eyes," he said. "Rhonin with Deathwing and––this is what they captured? Then, A'dal asked me why I looked so perturbed and I showed him the newspaper. For the very first time, I felt what Naaru laughter was like. The light from him radiated out and bathed everyone in joy, as if joy itself was a blanket. And everyone laughed although many did not know why. They just laughed because they felt joy and warmth. The Light graced them. I had heard that the Cataclysm killed millions, destroyed so much. There was so much despair and Deathwing was the cause of it. But this picture, the joy it brought, I knew then I was not looking at Deathwing and I will never look upon Deathwing again. Deathwing swore he would find me, he would hunt me down and he would find me for killing his children––"
Neltharion lowered his head.
"But he never did," said Khadgar. "And he never will."
"If you are wondering what I felt about that day," began Neltharion. "I––cheered when you tore the plates from my back, when you were the first to cause Deathwing pain. No one could do what you did, and I was happy. As for my children, I take the blame for Deathwing bringing them there in the first place. I––I can't hold any harsh feelings for you––not now. Maybe then––"
"Then, perhaps you should listen to what you say now, Neltharion," said Khadgar. "When you've felt that pain again––and choose to retaliate. I'm no stranger to the news from Kalimdor, the ash cloud that makes its way to Orgrimmar. How long does it have before it covers the city?"
"Less than a day," said Neltharion.
"It is so easy to act upon emotion," he said. "I will not stop you. Far be it for me to stop an Aspect who could very well make the same promise of hunting me down like Deathwing did long ago. Jaina is in the courtyard near the statue of Antonidas. She's stayed up for days on end, searching for something in the library––something that could help her get what she wants. But I don't approve of this path. The innocent will suffer just as the guilty."
"Garrosh did this."
"Garrosh did many things, Earth-Warder. And so have you. There are still people who want you dead as well."
"The difference between me and Garrosh is I––try to take some responsibility. I allow those who felt I've wronged them batter me, berate me. I can take it. Garrosh is too stupid to think about the consequences. I know mine. And whatever damage happens, innocent lives lost because of my revenge, I will pay for everyone of them. I just need this––I'm trying to stop an evil that could ruin more lives than my little anger spat in Kalimdor. I didn't do it ten thousand years ago when the demons first came to Azeroth, but I will do it now."
Khadgar shook his head in dismay, combing his hand through his beard.
"So, that's what this is all about," he said. "You blame yourself for the Well of Eternity and the Sundering."
"It was my Demon Soul that gave Sargeras the needed energy to push himself through the portal in the Well that caused it to collapse," said Neltharion. "All on the whims of power from a crazy queen who probably would benefit from a good honest day of hard work, sweat and toil. Deathwing twisted my need to protect this world into ideals that only dragons should rule and you mortals should perish. His thoughts are not unlike Garrosh's, not unlike Azshara's. They all want the same thing, Khadgar. I don't. I just have to stop him before he hurts more lives. If I couldn't stop myself, Deathwing, or Azshara, I have the chance to stop Garrosh. I can finally make it up to everyone. He killed not just my dragons that day, he killed all that I called my family, mortals too. When this is over, I will rebuild from those ashes. I will heal the damaged land." He deflated, his shoulders slumping, his wings draping over the ground. "I don't need a lecture on how to do my job. Thrall does that."
"I'm not lecturing you," said Khadgar. "I don't know what the Earth-Warder is supposed to do. But I do know that perhaps what you need, what you and Jaina need, is time to grieve. And you're not letting yourself have that. Go find Jaina. Maybe you two listening to yourselves, you'll come to your own conclusion. You both can hear your own words spoken from each other, and maybe see the error in them."
Neltharion dipped his head and turned to leave. Then, he paused and looked back at Khadgar who still combed his hand through his long white beard. The dragon suddenly scooped the frail man into his forelegs, holding him close. He patted the Aspect upon his neck. The dragon gently let go, letting the mage fall back to his feet. Khadgar straighter out his white and blue robes, smoothing the wrinkles.
"When all this trouble is done," he began. "Come visit me in Shattrath. A'dal wants to meet the dragon who made him burst with laughter."
Neltharion smiled softly.
"You carry the spark of the Light within you, Neltharion," Khadgar continued. "But the brightest light can cast the darkest shadows."
"That is what Anduin said to me," he said. "Though I don't–-follow the––he said I still embodied the Three Virtues with many of my actions. I just thought he was looking at me through rose-colored glasses."
"Well, he isn't too far from the truth."
With that, Neltharion bid Khadgar farewell. For a single moment, he felt some bit of closure upon meeting the mage after their first encounter on Draenor. He came to the courtyard of blooming cherry trees and poplars. Though Dalaran resided in the frosty continent of Northrend, the magic of the mages provided warmth to the streets as if the city felt like eternal springtime. Going beyond the city, one could feel the bite of the cold. He found Jaina Proudmoore there standing before the statue of Antonidas, a statue she built in honor of the former leader of the Kirin Tor and one of her favorite teachers. Neltharion paused, taken back by the color of her hair. Much like his, it was silver, though she had more of it. Jaina rose to her feet and then turned around. She gasped when she found Neltharion waiting for her in the stone walkway through the soft green grass. She looked upon him and then reached for one of her silvery locks. Neltharion reached up to his beard to touch his own silvery locks. As they approached each other, they held out their locks to one another. Her eyes glowed like his. The mana bomb changed him too.
"Nel," she said.
"Hi, Jaina," he said.
She fell to his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck. Neltharion rumbled as he wrapped his forelegs around her and enveloped her in his wings. They held each other for a moment and Jaina let herself go, tears falling upon her cheeks.
"I'm so sorry," he said. "I––I tried."
"I know," said Jaina. "I know you tried. I know. It's not your fault this happened."
"Calia––she's––" Neltharion started to say, but felt the dagger in his heart twist and he could not continue.
Jaina paused when she heard the tone of his voice, the mournful whimper from the Aspect. Though her mouth drew a thin line and she spoke nothing of this news. She dared not think either. She saw the pain in his eyes.
"Hold onto that pain, Neltharion," she said. "And use it." She parted from his embrace and ran her fingers through his beard. "I intend to use mine."
Neltharion's eyes fell upon the statue of Antonidas and the inscription upon the bronze plaque, dedicating the statue to the mage's great achievements. Then, he turned back to Jaina, but his eyes could not leave her silvery hair. He could not bring himself to speak of Krasus' last prophesy, at least not right this moment.
"I spoke to Kalecgos," he said. "He told me you plan on going to Orgrimmar and––make them understand what we lost in Theramore."
"Yes," said Jaina. "Do you intend to stop me too? He did."
"No," he replied. "I won't stop you. I came here to help you."
Jaina's face brightened.
"I knew you would not abandon me," she said. "Like so many others have."
"Why would I?" Neltharion asked. "Theramore is where I truly knew kindness and understood forgiveness. You and the people of Theramore gave me a chance where no one else would. You gave me the opportunity to show that I am not Deathwing. Besides, this is as much your loss as it is mine––if not more yours than mine. You created Theramore and Garrosh took that away from you. I had only lived there for two years, but you––you poured your heart into it. You had hope and did what most thought was impossible, only have that hope taken away. It wouldn't be right for me to selfishly take away something that was yours to begin with."
"Thank you," said Jaina. She wiped her eyes upon her tattered sleeve. "I should have known that this would happen. My father warned me and I turned my back on him. I want to make it up to him."
"Then, let's do that together," said Neltharion. "I felt like I've let you down––I've let a lot of people down by not doing what I'm supposed to do. I've let Calia down, my flight, and your citizens. I'm supposed to be the protector of this world and I couldn't even protect a city." He glanced away, his eyes downcast and his lip curled in disgust. "My father called me the Guardian of Azeroth. I'm the heavy hitter, the shield against anything that might try to harm it. Anything any enemy can dish out..." He stopped a paw to the ground, sending a tremor through it. "I can take it and deliver it back to them with gusto." Neltharion rumbled a sigh. "Some guardian I turned out to be. I'm an utter failure and I became this world's worst enemy. I couldn't protect this planet from myself, I couldn't protect it from the Burning Legion, and I couldn't protect one city from the Horde. What good am I?"
Jaina raised her hand to comb her fingers through his beard.
"I don't blame you," she said. "Garrosh fights dirty. You're a Dragon Aspect, Nel, but you're not omniscient. You didn't know that was Garrosh's plan. You did the best you could. We all did the best we could. Even Rhonin."
Neltharion's breath shuddered as his eyes began to water at the name "Rhonin". He lowered his head into his paw, covering an eye.
"Rhonin," he said in a watery sob. "I've let Krasus down too! Even he could have made a better protector than me."
Jaina wrapped her arms around his neck once more, letting him weep upon her shoulder.
"I've let everyone down," Neltharion said between his sobbing. "I––I'm only good for destruction. Everyone I know gets hurt––and it's my fault."
"It's none of your fault!" said Jaina as she leaned him off of her. She held his cheeks firmly, gazing into his eyes. They were puffy from the tears. His lip trembled. "It's Garrosh's fault. He did this to both of us. He––made us break our promise to the ones who we care about the most––the ones we love above all others. He made us break our promise, Neltharion. He tore them away from us!" She took hold of the cloak she wore, lifting it up to the Earth-Warder's eyes. She started wiping away his tears, all the while she let hers drip from her cheeks. "He took everything from us. Let's truly make him pay for it. Let's take everything away from him."
Neltharion snorted, his nostrils wet from running. He lifted a paw up and started wiping his snout. Finally, the Aspect nodded.
"Then, let's go to Orgrimmar together," she said. "I do have a plan." Jaina paused and glanced around, seeing a few Blood Elves walking across the lawn. "It's best I reveal it to you when we are a little closer to Durotar."
Neltharion nodded. Jaina placed her hand upon his neck and they walked together out of the courtyard and back towards Krasus' Landing.
§§§
The ash heavily fell from the thick cloud above. They thickly clumped upon the roof and the citizens were out wearing cloth on their faces, sweeping it off the roofing and letting clump into piles. Garrosh Hellscream ordered them up on the roof to prevent it from collapsing. Most of the citizens who could not work were down in the lower caverns while the ash turned the rusty colored canyon sickly gray. Down in his own chambers in Grommash Hold, was Garrosh and his Kor'kron as well as many other trusted orcs, commanders and generals and their platoons. Malkorok sharpened his dagger.
"Maybe Baine wasn't far from the truth," said a rather young, pallid skinned orc death knight, his icy blue glowing eyes looking up at a small opening that let the ash into the chamber. His comrade, a hunter nodded. The death knight leaned upon his glowing, frosty, rune blade.
"Who said that? Who!?" Garrosh demanded as he shot up to his feet.
Malkorok rounded upon the death knight, knocking his sword free from his hand and dragged him by his topknot across the floor. The torches flashed in Garrosh's eyes as the grey-skinned orc brought the guard to him.
"Enlighten me," Garrosh began as he tilted the death knight's chin up. "Why should I listen to Baine? Because Theramore was the home of Deathwing? It's not our fault that dragon decided to live there. It's his own fallacy."
The Warchief walked down the line of his loyal orc guards and soldiers. Nazgrim sat among them and nodded. Garrosh approached him, leaning over to place a supporting hand upon his shoulder.
"General Nazgrim," he began. "Do you wish to educate these inexperienced warriors of the history the Horde has with that pompous Aspect and his accursed flight?"
"You've graced me with honor, Warchief," said Nazgrim. He stood, placing his hands behind his back. "We all know about Deathwing's involvement with the Dragonmaw Clan. He granted Nekross the Demon Soul which enslaved the Aspect of Life Alexstrasza. And because of this, the Horde of old was granted may great victories. However, we had not been formally introduced to the Aspect of Death until the Dark Portal was reopened a second time. Teron Gorefiend, one of Ner'zhul's first Death Knights and his men came through the portal and there––on the other side was a human. But that was a deception. This human was no human, but a dragon in disguise. He was Deathwing, the Worldbreaker himself!
"Deathwing invited Teron and his loyal soldiers to share his fire and food and offered his services that day. Our homeworld, Draenor, was dying. The demons' taint had turned out beautiful world into a wasteland. Hellfire Peninsula was once a forest––burnt and covered in the bones of the dead. Azeroth was our only hope! And Deathwing presented a way for us to survive under one simple request. He asked us to permit him to move his eggs––his children to Draenor, and in return, the Horde would have the power of another Dragonflight.
"All we had to do was let him live on our planet. And we did. Deathwing personally flew Teron all over Azeroth to collect significant magical artifacts. The Eye of Dalaran, the Skull of Gul'dan, the book of the Mad Prophet Medivh. Deathwing made all of these easy for the Horde to gather. There was no struggle when we had the most powerful of the Aspects willing to help us."
The elderly general paused as he heard the rumbles from those who listened in. He leaned upon his heels and grinned through his sharp teeth. Garrosh nodded.
"No one could stop Deathwing as he tore in and stole the artifacts Ner'zhul needed," Nazgrim continued. "And then, when the Dragon Aspect's task was finished, he brought his dragons into our world. Our world had many creatures, but dragons were not among them. The first dragons on our world were his. Perhaps Deathwing bought Ner'zhul with favors so he could turn around and snatch Draenor right from underneath our feet."
Garrosh sneered, lowering his head to look upon Nazgrim from far beneath his thick brow. He was not fuming at Nazgrim, but absorbing his story to fuel his own rage against Neltharion. He could feel his cheeks flush hot as he seeped into his rage.
"But Deathwing never got that chance, brothers and sisters," said Nazgrim. "Because Ner'zhul's head grew fat with delusions of conquest. He opened portals to undiscovered worlds ripe for the taking. And he fueled these portals with the stolen artifacts Deathwing brought him."
Nazgrim was about to continue, but Garrosh stopped him, clapping his hand upon the general's armored shoulder.
"Very good, my friend," said the Warchief. "Well, as we all know what happened next. I was there on our beloved homeworld, I saw it happen. The planet was ripping itself apart. Rocks broke away, lava sprayed out from the fissures. The earth trembled like nothing I had ever seen before. We could not stand on our own two feet. Those who could, fled into the portal and left us stranded and to witness the destruction of our home."
He took a breath as he closed his eyes, reliving that moment.
"I knew what fear was that day," he said. 'And for the first time, I wondered if I would die without ever seeing a battle, for how can any one orc battle a dying planet? I knew the world I grew up on had chanced. All that was left of Draenor––a single, small continent."
Garrosh unsheathed his father's axe that slew the pit lord Mannoroth, that freed the orcs from the demons of the Burning Legion. He hefted the axe Gorehowl up to the ceiling.
"You all ask me why I do what I do," he said. "You wonder what's that crazy Garrosh up to? How dare he even think he could match the power of a Dragon Aspect? Nekros captured Alexstrasza and used her, but he had Deathwing's Demon Soul to do it with. What power do I have? None! So why attack him now?"
He paused, hearing them whisper about the room. Then Garrosh bellowed.
"If it wasn't for the ease of Deathwing's services there would still be a planet we could truly fight for."
Nazgrim stood aghast.
"Wait, you're blaming Draenor's destruction on Deathwing the Destroyer?"
"And why not?" Garrosh asked.
"Well, it was Ner'zhul's carelessness that destroyed our home."
"Yes, it was the multiple portals," said Garrosh. "That ripped the planet and tossed its remains into the Twisting Nether. But Deathwing made gathering the very magical artifacts easy. Ner'zhul lost nothing and gained a shattered world. If Deathwing had not offered his services, Teron and his men would have found collecting these precious trinkets difficult if not life threatening. Though he was a formidable Warlock and Death Knight, what is Teron Gorefiend against the combined might of Dalaran? But what is the might of Dalaran against a fraction of Deathwing's power?" He crossed the iron grate. "We have seen a sample of it during the Cataclysm. Deathwing wasn't here, but his earthquake knocked down the old walls of Orgrimmar. His roar split the Barrens. And we got a taste of it again, in the Twilight Highlands." Garrosh gazed to the ceiling. "Moving ice as if it was alive. I know the power I am going up against."
"But you're still blaming Deathwing for Draenor's destruction," said Nazgrim.
"Yes!" Garrosh said. "Deathwing made it all possible. Ner'zhul has paid for his crimes. We've killed the Lich King! No, one more culprit remains." He addressed his troops. "Your beloved Thrall––who appointed me as Warchief, who decided to abandon us for some greater call––to stop the Cataclysm. But did he end the life of the one responsible? Did he avenge Draenor?"
Garrosh paused, hearing the soldiers echo in reply.
"He let Deathwing go," Garrosh said softly. He closed his eyes and bobbed his head in agreement. "He let the dragon go. He gave up the position of Warchief to kill a dragon and he let Deathwing go. If any of you who wish to agree with Baine in the idea the ash cloud caused by that dragon is my fault––need I remind you who it was that let him live."
The chamber fell into somber silence. A soft cough from a rogue sounded, but most were still very quiet.
"The next time you wish to blame me," Garrosh continued. "Remember this. I would have never let Deathwing live!"
The door swung open as guards led in a teal skinned with blue braids, shaking off the ash from the outside.
"This troll came running into the gate," said a guard.
"I came to warn da Warchief," said the troll. "Da Alliance! Da be comin' here, mon. With a whole fleet!"
"Here?" Garrosh asked. "To Durotar?"
"Dhat right," said the troll.
"Our reports state they may head for Feathermoon Hold," said Nazgrim.
"Dhey headin' here, mon," said the troll.
"And where is Deathwing?" asked Garrosh.
"Deathwing was seen in Dalaran, Warchief," said a voice.
Garrosh turned to see a Blood Elf teleport in.
"With Lady Jaina Proudmoore," the elf continued.
"The Proudmoore bitch lives?" Garrosh asked, feeling the blood race to his head.
"They both conspire against you," said the elf mage.
"A mana bomb could not destroy the Earth-Warder," said Nazgrim. "Or Jaina Proudmoore. And the Alliance is heading here as well. With this ash cloud, we are weak."
"Send my ships to deal with the Alliance," said Garrosh.
"And the Earth-Warder and the Archmage?" asked Nazgrim.
"Have my shaman do what they can to strengthen the stone of my city," said Garrosh. "Now we know he is heading here, we can perhaps counter any attack he would make. The Cataclysm came at as surprise. We didn't know Deathwing would cause such damage to Orgrimmar. But now we know how powerful he is, we can plan for it."
Nazgrim nodded.
"Tell your Chieftain he has my thanks," said Garrosh as he turned to the troll. "At least he knows where his loyalties lie."
"Yes, Warchief," the troll. "Vol'jin has not forgotten who the real enemy is."
The troll bowed his head respectfully.
"Have everyone in the city prepare for an attack," said Garrosh. "The Destroyer is coming."
§§§
The ghostly wolf swiftly padded across the ashen plain. He felt an ill wind blow across his silvery fur as he headed to the edge of a cliff. He looked up, hearing the sound of massive wings heading for Frey Island. then, the wolf leapt off and followed the sound of the enormous wings. The cloud above stirred as lightning continued to flash.
There must be a way to stop him before he makes a big mistake...before he travels down the same path his evil counterpart traveled, the wolf thought. I know you are upset, Neltharion. I know because I have felt such feelings. But you don't need to do this!