XXIII

He returned to the desert surrounding Tanaris and Uldum. Neltharion sensed just a slight change in the humidity and spied over the horizon dark clouds coming. The climate of Kalimdor, wrote by his own anger and the millions of tons of ash ejected into the atmosphere, he knew was now forever changed. It was about to bring the rains to a very thirsty land, but instead of bringing life with the rains, it will only bring death. Even a desert was fragile, with its thin topsoil and shallow roots. The creatures that lived here depended on the desert and adapted due to the lack of water and their ecosystem was now in danger.

Let the storm come anyways, Neltharion thought. Let the climate change. Let the poles freeze and the equator fry. Let it happen.

The ashy haze still clung to the air, turning the horizon a sticky brown and the desert itself seemed coated with a blanket of thin, sickly gray. Neltharion's eyes focused upon the opening maw of the Caverns of Time and he found Nozdormu outside, waiting for him with a half smile. The Great Bronze shook his scales as a sudden chill rushed up around him the closer Neltharion came.

"Neltharion," he began. "I am…truly sssorry for your lossss…"

"Are you?" Neltharion asked, his eyes flashed a dull orange. His jaw set and his teeth clinch as each of his steps became stiffer and stiffer with his approach.

"I am," said Nozdormu.

"Hmmm…" the Great Black rumbled. "The bad thing? Tell me, Time Lord, was that it?"

"I am afraid it wasssss…"

Neltharion bobbed his head in a nod, his eyes became distant as he looked upon the opening of the Caverns of Time.

"You just couldn't tell me," said Neltharion. "This was supposed to happen."

"Yesss, but I had no idea you would…take it ssso well," said Nozdormu.

"You're being facetious."

"No, I'm being sssarcastic," said Nozdormu as he flipped the tail of his long, striped scarf between his wings.

"Same damned thing!" Neltharion bellowed.

The Aspect of Time raised a talon, his eyes heavy lidded with smugness: "Actually, it isn't. You see facetious implies you think that I am joking about your little temper tantrum with the supervolcano. Sarcasm was means to imply my acknowledgement and mockery of the irony of your tantrum…"

"And you apparently like to hear yourself talk," Neltharion rumbled beneath his breath, turning his head away from his elder brother. He closed his eyes tightly, as if looking upon the only brother he had left was too unbearable for him. "Something I'm getting sick of lately."

The Earth-Warder thumped his foot upon the sand and the rolling dunes trembled. Exploding forth from a cloud of scorching sand came a gigantic slab of sandstone from the concealed floor of the desert. The slab covered the cavern's mouth. Nozdormu's frosty teal eyes widened and he threw himself upon the stone slab, scratching his claws upon its surface. His claws, no matter their strength, their razor sharpness, could not make a mark upon the stone. He stepped away.

"What the hell have you done?" he asked, swinging back to his younger brother. "My flight isss in there!"

"I know," said Neltharion. "I do not want them to disturb us."

Nozdormu thundered towards Neltharion. He reared back upon his haunches, his paw curling into a fist. He shook it furiously.

"Let them go! Now!"

"No," said Neltharion.

Nozdormu felt something hot upon his neck as four huge fingers closed around his throat. He was suddenly hoisted up by his neck into the air by a monster far larger than he. The Time Lord turned, with eyes wide and met the face of a rocky-looking creature with burning eyes and a glowing mouth. Fire erupted from fissures between the rocky skin. The creature roared, its hot breath scalding to Nozdormu. He flinched, tearing his eyes from it only to look upon Neltharion with horror.

"A Molten Giant!" he said. "They are forbidden from being sssummoned. You know it could bring about another Cataclysssm.

"Not when I do it," said Neltharion.

The Molten Giant slammed Nozdormu to the sand. It raised a foot, revealing the sand underneath had melted into glass. It pinned the Bronze Dragon under its burning foot. Nozdormu coughed, feeling the burning sensation upon his hard scales.

"You think you are Malygos?" Neltharion asked. "At least to me. You think you can replace him and everything will be alright? You manipulated me, Nozdormu!"

Nozdormu grunted, feeling the weight of the giant pressing hard upon his trachea, forcing him to slowly sink into the sand.

"These thingssss mussst happen, Neltharion," said Nozdormu. "This is the way the timeline mussst unfold. We cannot tempt fate."

"I don't believe in fate," said Neltharion, his voice cold, stilted, despite the rising heat of his anger. "You knew the Mana Bomb would destroy Theramore. You wanted it to happen."

"Because it isss meant to happen."

"No, it isn't," said Neltharion. "Tell me this right now, big brother; are we not the masters of our own destiny? Who says that this was meant to happen? Who the hell said that? How can you justify a city being erased from the face of the planet? How can you justify the death of many of my flight because of it?"

"It isssn't my fault you decided to keep your flight there," said Nozdormu. "It wasssn't my fault that you decided to live there. You made that choice. No one told you that you couldn't or that you could."

"But you didn't want to warn me," said Neltharion, watching Nozdormu twitch under the hot foot of the Molten Giant. "You could have at least said: 'Nel, I think staying in Theramore might not be the best place.' I would have listened. I would have told Calia under the circumstances, I can't live there."

Nozdormu growled: "You truly are asss dense as the rocks you toss, Neltharion. You couldn't figure that out all on your own."

"I thought my presence there would be enough for any enemy to steer clear."

"Then, you are truly naïve."

Neltharion snorted black smoke and ash from his nostrils. His eyes continued to grow brighter orange, burning beneath the black fire of his scales. He turned his attention to the Molten Giant and dipped his head. The giant removed its foot, backing away only for the Earth-Warder to snatch the Time Lord up. He lifted Nozdormu off the sand by the loose scruff of the Bronze Dragon's neck. With a hefty growl, Neltharion flung Nozdormu hard against the sandstone.

Neltharion let go of his brother and proceeded to box Nozdormu with his paws, left right, left right. Each swing rattled the Bronze Dragon's teeth and vibrated his vision. The Earth-Warder backed off to watch with a stony expression as Nozdormu toppled face first into the sand.

"I don't want to hear it," said Neltharion. "My flight was destroyed by that bomb and you didn't give me enough time to take them out of there. You drugged me to keep me put. I could have had a chance to do something, but you kept me a prisoner until it was too late to act."

Nozdormu groaned, painfully lifting his head up, peering upon his younger brother with swollen, half-lidded eyes. His balance was shaky even as he braced himself upon his forelegs.

"It makes me wonder," Neltharion began. "Why you did it. Why would you harm your own sibling? And then I am reminded about who you will become in the future. I am reminded that it will be your turn to become the Old Gods' patsy. So, you did it, you did it because you want my flight to become extinct." His eyes narrowed. "You are no different than Alexstrasza. My flight can barely recover as it is and now with this action, you've made sure our future will indeed be dim. You are my brother and you betrayed me!"

"Oh, that soundsss…familiar," Nozdormu said with a soft voice, his head dropping heavily upon the sand. "The wordsss of Deathwing."

"This isn't Deathwing you are speaking to!" Neltharion bellowed and the sandy walls of the Caverns of Time trembled. "Deathwing was another personality of me, but you and Murozond. You are one. You tell me over and over it has to happen, but I now see you want it to happen. Who side are you on, anyway?"

"Don't…talk like that," said Nozdormu as he rose upon his aching joints.

"Don't lie to me," said Neltharion. "I know when you are lying. I know. One after one, you would see what remains of my flight destroyed."

"Paranoid fool."

Neltharion roared as Nozdormu finally came to his feet. The Black Dragon struck against the Bronze Dragon's jaw. Nozdormu was sent flying against the sandstone, breaking it upon his great fall. Bronze dragons scurried across the sandy floor to their Aspect's aid. A row of bronze dragons placed themselves defensively between the raging Earth-Warder and the Time Lord. Soridormi knelt down, nuzzling her snout against Nozdormu's. She then turned to face Neltharion, icy daggers piercing her gaze. Seeing Nozdormu's Prime Consort brushing her snout against his gripped Neltharion's heart with a rustle of fury, jealousy, and sorrow for losing his Sintharia. The Black Dragon dismissed these emotions with a shake of his head.

"You seclude yourself away from the rest of us," said Neltharion. "So you can plot against us. At least I had an excuse for what I did, but you…no…this is what you want. I never wanted Deathwing to happen, and you keep telling me he was supposed to. Why? Was this the Titan's grand design? To see us like this? To see this world sick, in agony, is this what they wanted?"

"Even Aman'Thul isss not omniscient," said Nozdormu. "Nor did he ever claimed to be infallible. None of them were."

"But you arrogantly like to remind us how clear your vision is," said Neltharion. "You've trapped this world, instigation of its doom. Let us decide how the timeline is supposed to unfold. But you don't. Are we your puppets? Myself, Malygos, Alex, Ysera, and the mortals, are we all your puppets?"

"Neltharion…"

"You saw Deathwing be created by my torment and you lifted no finger to stop it," said Neltharion. "You saw Theramore be destroyed, my home…my flight…the people who for a brief moment were able to forgive and forget…you took that all away from me."

"You don't know what I have seen," said Nozdormu. "You…have no idea what could happen."

"You waste your life on what could happen," said Neltharion. "Why can't you live for today? Your excuse isn't going to work on me! Tell that tripe to the adventurers who answer your call."

Nozdormu bowed his head: "And you ssshould return to your Calia. Aren't you late? She would be mossst furiousss at you."

"Don't start. Don't even start. Stick your head back into the sand, Nozdormu. That's all you're good for."

Before Nozdormu could counter Neltharion's insult, the Earth-Warder had took to the sky with a blast of torrent wind. The force knocked many of the bronze dragons and young bronze drakes back. The Molten Giant roared as its body melted, returning to the basic components that created it. Neltharion's commanding grip had been released. Nozdormu shook his head with dismay.

"Ssso it goesss…" he whispered softly to himself.

§§§

Thin layers of ash covered the west coast of Kalimdor. Neltharion flew up above, high through the thin wisps of nimbus clouds. His path took him past Mulgore and briefly he paused to make sure Dannathion was safe. Baine Bloodhoof promised his safety. There was an air of pious assurance in the voice of the High Chieftain of the Tauren as he spoke his promise. For now, that was satisfied Neltharion. He knew if there was something wrong, Danny would waste no time in saying so. Through the young dragon's mind, Neltharion informed him where the fragile remainders of the Black Dragonflight had gone. Nothing more needed to be said.

His flight continued on above Desolace and through the craggy peaks of the Stonetalon Mountains. Spread out below him was the eerily, gray misty forests of tall pines that was Darkshore. Nearly two years ago, Neltharion came flying over these forests in his attempt to escape the overbearing Alexstrasza after he had barely recovered from the fight over Wyrmrest. He recalled how weakened he was as he attempted to fly, only to crash several times because his mind was not used to the great weight of his body. And the alcohol he drank in order to keep the voices away did not help either.

He felt he was coming full circle, flying back up through Darkshore to head towards Teldrassil and Darnassus.

The city of Darnassus was still cloaked in eternal, orchid twilight. The Night Elves worshiped the stars, revered the moons, and rejoiced the night. Neltharion landed to the grand house of Tyrande and Malfurion. They confirmed where Shandris had taken Calia after they fled by magic and haste to safety after Theramore's fall.

Azuremyst Isle and the Prophet Velen.

Across the sea Neltharion flew towards the archipelago known as the Azuremyst Isles. Two large island within the chain were of interest to the inhabitants, the refugees from Draenor before its destruction, Bloodmyst and Azuremyst. Both islands were contaminated by the alien radioactive energy emanating from the crashed dimensional ship known as the Exodar. The radiation came from pieces of its dimensional drive and its engines, the debris that littered most of Bloodmyst. The contamination mutated the vegetation on both islands. The tall pines were transformed into crystalline structures that barely resembled trees.

Northward was a tiny island barely 20 miles across, and covered in skeletons of dead dragons. Neltharion knew of this island very well as it was the home of a group of Night Elves who allied themselves with Ysera after the destruction of the Well of Eternity. Deathwing, finding out about the alliance sent his corrupted black dragons to destroy the inhabitants. Many dragons on both sides perished and the Night Elves there as well were killed while they were in the druidic sleep. Now, the island was barren, the ghosts of the warriors and dragons still haunted it to this day.

Everywhere Neltharion went, there was evidence of Deathwing's evil. He averted painfully away from the tiny island as he banked off to Azuremyst.

The island itself was the least affected of the radiation from the crashed ship. Neltharion slowly landed upon coast, the beach covered in lavender sand and the grass was strangely blue-green. All this were the signs of the radiation coming from the ship. Neltharion exhaled as his body shrank down, becoming nothing more than the size of a very large warhorse. This was the best way of traveling through the island without harming its citizens.

Above, Neltharion could see the swirl of deep, purple and gray clouds, lightning streaking through them angrily and thunder clapped. Though no rain fell from these storms. They were unnatural, another sign of how the Exodar had damaged the island's ecosystem. The Black Dragon walked down a stony pathway through the blue-green forest of pines and pulsating crimson, pink, and purple crystals. The crystals grew everywhere. The Earth-Warder could hear their incongruous song through the ground as each of his feet touched it. It was startling for him, at least at first when he visited the island months before Theramore's destruction. It took time for him to become accustomed to it, but this visit only brought more discomfort.

For centuries, these islands remained untouched by any civilization and the creatures living on it were left to their own devices. That is until the Draenei crashed landed upon the island and their ship mutating the flora and fauna.

The Draenei were very much aware of what their ship had done to the islands and many of them did their best to clean up the pollution. It was not enough. However, Neltharion could not fault them for the lack of trying and appreciated that Velen explained their attempts to fix what they destroyed. During the Cataclysm, Azuremyst Isle and the other islands in the chain remained much untouched by Deathwing. The Draenei who lived here saw no sign of the Aspect of Death's passage. It became a safe haven for many Alliance races, humans, dwarves, gnomes, who fled their destroyed homes in hopes to find protection and they looked to Velen for help, guidance, and safety. Though the Prophet invited many refugees to live on Azuremyst, he then sent them away so that they may serve the greater good in a time of darkness.

Whatever injury the Mana Bomb had inflicted upon Calia, Neltharion knew Shandris was right to bring her to the Prophet. He was a powerful healer, better than what Neltharion could muster. Velen was slated to be nearly as old as Neltharion himself as well. Velen was immortal much like the Aspects. Many Draenei shared the same long lifespan as Velen. It seemed to be a character trait of their species. Neltharion could not tell why they would have such a long lifespan. Was it from their faith in the Light? Was it because of the Naaru, the crystalline creatures of pure light and energy, that protected the Draenei? Neltharion could not tell either way.

The Draenei held technology far beyond the scope of gnome or goblin mind, advanced and mysterious. But because of their exiled status, this wondrous technology was in very limited supply and the Draenei had to make do with what Azeroth offered them.

At the clearing of the forest, Neltharion spied the golden and crystalline form of the now operational Exodar laying in the impact crater and surrounded by azure crystals. He paused to take in the grand sight of the alien ship. The ship itself was as large as a heavily populated metropolis within Stormwind and it dwarfed even Neltharion's true size, making him appear nothing more than a speck against its hull. Its cargo bays could hold at least nine Neltharions all standing side by side with room to spare.

The first time Neltharion had been inside the dimensional ship, Velen had personally summoned him. There was a reason for it, though not even Neltharion could see what it was. The Prophet was very adept at keeping his thoughts to himself and shocked the Black Dragon on how he could not read Velen's mind. Replicators along the walls of the ship's crewmen quarters provided food, clothing, anything anyone wanted. All they had to do was ask the ship's automated systems for whatever they wanted. That is so long as power was fed into the ship. Neltharion was no stranger to the concept of cold fusion, which the ship's generators ran on. That knowledge the Black Dragon was "programmed" with from Khaz'Goroth. The Titans were no stranger to cold fusion either.

Though the ship was repaired and the Draenei could leave any time they wanted to, Velen decided to stay. The Prophet felt a sense of duty to remain here, whatever that duty was. Velen told Neltharion that he was guided by the Sight, his prophetic visions he recieved from the Light itself. So long as the Light told him that there was still much to do with Azeroth, they had no plans on leaving. Velen feared another battle with the Burning Legion was eminent. Somewhere deep inside, Neltharion agreed with him.

The Burning Legion, they were what connected Neltharion and Velen together, both fighters against the forces of darkness and chaos. Neltharion admitted to his slight prejudice towards the Draenei when he first met Velen face to face, due to the history of meeting the Eradar of Argus after they had been mutated from fel energy of Sargeras and joined the Burning Legion. Velen forgave the Aspect and understood where it came from. Though reading Velen's heart, which was always opened to the Aspect, Neltharion could sense no malice from the Prophet and his own prejudices melted away. The Draenei were not the Man'ari as Neltharion could now plainly see despite their close resemblance with each other. And Neltharion could sense the sorrow inside of Velen, sorrow and grief for seeing his closest friends, Archimonde and Kil'Jaeden be seduced by Sargeras. Velen and the Draenei were not just fighting against the Burning Legion, they were fighting against their own people, brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers. The Draenei were forevermore hunted down all because Velen refused to join Sargeras with Kil'Jaeden and Archimonde.

Neltharion paused in his thoughts as he reached the guard station among the crystalline towers that served as generators for a protective shield around the ship. The guards above nodded when they saw him. He was expected after all. A guard came out from one of the stations and his hands ran across the holographic panels along one of the generators and the shimmering pink shield peeled away with a soft hum to allow Neltharion through. As the Black Dragon stepped through, he heard another hum. The shield had been reactivated behind him.

Yes, Calia was indeed safe here.

After the Cataclysm and the refugees from the Eastern Kingdoms returned to their homes, Azuremyst Isles had seen little traffic. And the Draenei had little to worry about from a Horde invasion. But perhaps that would soon change with Garrosh's plans of conquest of all of Kalimdor.

Neltharion ascended a pearly ramp that curled gracefully around the ship's exterior. It ended at the top where two automatic doors opened with a welcoming warm chime and blinking blue lights. He stepped through the doors into the pastel, rosy and lavender interior. Neltharion walked along a tall, curled, luxurious hall of shimmering azure light. He could hear the pulse of the ship, alive and its heart beating. Energy radiated through translucent tubes, feeding power into every bit of the ship itself. Another Draenei guard came out to greet him and asked the dragon to follow him.

Neltharion followed, descending down towards the lower chambers of the ship where Velen resided. Opening out before him in a echoing antechamber of golden and pink illumination, Neltharion had made it into the Vault of Lights. All around him as he made his way towards the center were holographic projections of the minions of the Burning Legion, reminders to the Draenei what was important for them. Hardlight displays allowed anyone who wished the learn to flip through the archives stored inside the ship's memory banks. Names of the various members of the Burning Legion were written with the Draenei geometric characters, the language they spoke.

Appearing right at the center amid a circle of rosy light was the Prophet Velen dressed in white robes. He radiated golden light as he approached the Black Aspect, holding out his hand in friendship. Neltharion took it and dipped his head.

"Welcome back, Earth-Warder," Velen said in his gruff, craggy voice. Despite the holy energy that emanated from the Prophet, his voice was no sweet song. It was harsh, raspy, sounding more like sandpaper than something melodious. Still, it held an air of dignity and grace. "I am wrapped with grief over the loss of Theramore, though my heart is joyous when I heard Lady Jaina Proudmoore had survived. Even more so that you survived as well."

"One Mana Bomb can't bring me down," said Neltharion.

"Indeed. One thing is clear, I know the path Garrosh is taking will only lead him to ruin."

"Have you foreseen this?" Neltharion asked.

"Vaguely," said Velen. "But my visions are sometimes clear, and other times, covered in mist so thick I can barely see the tip of my nose. I do not know how it will end, but I know that it only will."

"My wife, Calia…is she alright?"

"Barely," said Velen. "My healers saw that she was with child when they began their work. She was bleeding when Shandris brought her here, saying that not even Tyrande and the power of Elune could help her."

"Bleeding?"

"Bleeding from her womb," said Velen.

Neltharion could feel his heart sink as Velen described it. He turned away from the alabaster blue Prophet, his eyes downcast. His lower lip trembled.

"The energy of the Mana Bomb took its toll on the just developing child," said Velen. "There was no way we could save both."

Neltharion stared upon the pink glow of the holographic image of a pit lord, though his mind was somewhere else. Velen clapped a hand upon the dragon's shoulder.

"I am deeply sorry, Neltharion," he said. "We tried our best."

The Aspect nodded silently, his eyes beginning to water.

"If you like, I can take you to her. She is in the medical bay on deck ten. Come with me, I will show you the way."

Neltharion followed Velen down through the bowels of the ship itself. He was quiet, preferring not to say much as he collected his thoughts. Though Velen was not so quiet. He never could keep quiet when he shared the same space as a being as old as he. It was because of that voice Neltharion had. How so familiar it sounded to him.

"The dragon that came with her," said Velen. "He never left her side."

"He was doing as he was told," said Neltharion.

"We saw the ash cloud right at the very southern rim of the horizon," Velen said. "And it did indeed turn our sunsets and sunrises quiet brilliant crimson. For a moment I thought the sky was about to be set on fire."

"Any closer and it would have looked just as that," said Neltharion. "It is getting so close to autumn. The new year will come sooner than you think. But I have a feeling for the damage I caused with the volcano that was Theramore, next year will be a year without a summer."

"No summer?" Velen asked. "Crops will die. A drought here, unyielding flood there. Just one event, one thing, and you've changed Azeroth. Deathwing…"

"Deathwing isn't as methodical," said Neltharion. "Even after ten thousand years trying to figure out my powers, he couldn't understand them. But I've made a big mistake. I let my emotions control me. I…have to be careful."

"We cannot all be perfect," said Velen. "I have made a few calculated mistakes that have cost my own people dearly. And many times my own visions have failed me."

"Could you have seen what happened to Theramore?"

"That tragedy, I did not see," said Velen, his voice deepening with heavy sadness as he lowered his eyes to the floor. "I am sorry."

"My brother Nozdormu shares your abilities, though his…he can control his visions," said Neltharion. "He saw it."

"Did he warn you?"

"No. You tried to warn Kil'Jaeden and Achimonde when Sargeras came, didn't you?"

"I did," said Velen. "But they did not listen. They cursed me and all who followed me."

"At least you tried," said Neltharion. "If it were me, I would have listened."

"Thank you," said Velen. "As a traveler from a distant planet, Earth-Warder, I must say this. You manage a unique and beautiful world. Imperfect as it may be, it is what makes Azeroth special."

In their conversation, Neltharion lost track of his passage through the ship. Velen paused and then slowly parted away from the Earth-Warder, bowing only slightly, motioning with a graceful hand the frosty colored door.

"She is through there," he said. Velen slowly backed away into the shadow as Neltharion approached the door. "I take my leave."

Neltharion dipped his head and came to the door's surface. The door chimed and swished open. There lying on a bed in the medical ward was Calia. She was dressed in a loose night gown under the satin sheets. Ruthian stood at the far wall and dipped his head to his Aspect. Neltharion could hear the sounds of the machines around his wife that monitored her vital stats beep intermittently. A female Draenei healer stood beside the bed, looking over her recovery. When she saw the Earth-Warder come in, she dipped her head and politely excused herself.

"She is stable," she whispered as she neared the door. "And she awoke a few times before you came."

"Thank you," said Neltharion, his eyes falling upon Ruthian next. "Ruthian?"

"She is safe," he said. "I'll leave you two be, my lord."

The doors closed as the healer and Ruthian left and Neltharion was alone in the sterile, cold, steely room with his wife. He lifted a paw to touch the loose, long locks of his beard. The dragon peered down to look upon the streaks of platinum and silver against the dark rivers of his hair. He wondered if Calia would like his new look. He stepped slowly towards her, inching his way to her, ready to wake her and hold her. One step closer, Neltharion felt an icy grip upon his heart. He paused and then took a step back, his breath fluttering in his throat.

"Calia?" he whispered. He wanted to step forward.

Neltharion commanded his feet to move closer to his beloved wife, but his feet would not obey. He did not know why he could not come to her. Still, the icy grip kept him where he stood. He lifted his right paw up, reaching out for her. Neltharion held his breath as he heard Calia moan, turning her head upon the pillow. He started to shiver as she opened her eyes. Calia looked upon her husband, her mouth drawing a frown. She slowly rose from the pillow to a sit and folded her hands into her lap. Her dusty auburn hair fell about her shoulders, disheveled and stringy.

"Calia," said Neltharion in a startled whisper, still reaching out for her.

The chill he felt in his heart grew even more frigid, radiating out into his limbs. Neltharion shank back up against the wall and folded his leathery wings around him. Then, Calia pulled the covers over her shoulders, her breath coming out in quick shudders.

"It is getting a little cold in here, Nel," she said with a whisper. "Stop playing around."

"I'm, I'm not…I…" he began. "Calia."

Her jaw set and she stared down at the foot of her bed.

"You know, I am glad I miscarried," she said. "It wasn't as painful as you might have thought. More like a bad stomach ache, feeling of nausea. Then, it was over, just like that." She took in a deep breath. "I am even more glad you weren't here. How dare I put such pressure on you to decide. Keep the mother, or the baby? It wouldn't have mattered either way. It was barely the size of an appleseed. If you decided that I should carry it to term, I would have died anyway."

Neltharion slid down the wall, sitting, his legs sprawled and his tail between them. His wings draped over his legs as he stared upon the floor.

"Garrosh made a mess of things," she continued coldly. "But I heard you made an even bigger mess."

"I attacked the Horde," said Neltharion. "I finally did something you always wanted me to do."

"A little too late for that, don't you think?" she asked. "You practically had Garrosh in your hands. Don't think I saw what you didn't do. I saw everything."

"Then, you must have known it still wouldn't have made a difference," said Neltharion.

"Maybe not for Theramore," said Calia. "But I've learned at least one thing from you, things always have a away of working out in the end. Even with Theramore destroyed, Garrosh would be dead and the Horde leaders in disarray as to who should take his place. It was a loss that I was more than willing to accept. But you still couldn't do it. Then, I heard you attacked Orgrimmar. You still couldn't do it."

"I destroyed his weapon," said Neltharion.

"I suppose it wasn't a total loss."

"And I got Nefarian's head back."

"At least one of us found closure," Calia said, her face still frozen.

Although she did not show signs of her bitterness, Neltharion could sense it exuding from her form. Her emotion was like a barrier, preventing him from even approaching her. She was pushing him away.

"I kept asking about you," she said. "Each time I awoke. I was ready to excuse the fact you didn't come here to at least see if I was well all because you performed so admirably. I thought for a moment that I truly did reach you. Then, disappointment."

"Calia…"

She held up a hand to silence him.

"Then when I had to abort the child because they said the Mana Bomb had done something to it. I couldn't get a straight answer out of any of them. Including Prophet Velen. I almost felt ashamed to even face you. You wanted so much to have children. And again, I could not deliver. How could I face you now? What sort of Prime Consort would I be if I could not give an Aspect a child?"

Calia sniffed, clutching at the blanket.

"Then it dawned upon me," she said. "I'm no Prime Consort, no matter what you think or what Ysera was hoping for."

Neltharion blinked, his breath still.

"Then I realized," she continued. "Perhaps this is the dream, a dream that my inner young princess wanted so much to happen, but somehow it became twisted. The days that passed, as I slept…you can't believe how clear things are when death nearly takes you."

Calia sighed and laid her head down upon the pillow.

"I don't need you, right now," she said, turning her back towards Neltharion. "Just go away."

"Why?" Neltharion asked.

Calia snapped up, her face flushing hot: "Do I need a reason for not wanting you around me?"

"I…I thought you were dead, Calia," said Neltharion. "I was so worried. I did all those things because I thought you died. I thought Garrosh took you from me."

"Do you honestly think I cared whether or not you blanketed Durotar in volcanic ash?" she asked. "Really? They're the enemy. I thought you would have figured it out by now."

"Calia…"

"I don't need your company," she said. "Just go. Leave. I am fine. I'm not dying, you don't have to worry about me anymore. Just leave me be."

Calia laid back down upon her pillow. Neltharion could still feel whatever force it was continuing to push him away. He rose up and made for the door, his head burdensome. The door chimed open and he stepped through. As he moved out of the medical bay, he could feel the push, the chill, the darkness disappear.

"I love you, Cali," he said lowly. Her lack of response only pained his heart more.

The door closed behind him and Neltharion once more sat against the wall.

I love you, Cali, thought Neltharion.

Perhaps it was because she was still sick. Perhaps it was the energy of the Mana Bomb. Perhaps it was because she just lost another child. He could not place his paw on it. The coldness was still there no matter what the question was. But the question still loomed over him, shrouding him with the sharp, gelid vindication of Calia's true feelings. He shivered at it, feared it.

He was losing her.