Every morning, she woke to the sound of dragon roars echoing above the forest canopy, and to nervous chatter in both Darnassian and Common. Every day, she flew above the forest herself, and watched the flames slowly creep closer. Every night, she fell asleeping wishing to be home, wishing to feel the familiar cold and loneliness of Northrend that she knew and loved.
But home was no better, and if they failed here, there could very well be no home for her to return to. She was young, compared to most of her kind, and her memories of peace were distant. Those pleasant memories were like shadows, at the edge of her mind, but too far away and too unimportant to really ever acknowledge. No, her most vivid memories were the atrocities she'd witnessed; in some cases, those she'd committed. She was a murderer, yes, having slain both mortals and members of the Red Dragonflight during the Nexus War.
This time, in this new war, they were on the same side. The families of the Nexus War's victims were unlikely to be pleased, but there was so little time to mourn, so little time to discuss the subtleties of morality and justice. She had no say in the matter either, having been dispatched to Nordrassil by the elders of her flight once the first whispers of trouble reached their home in the cold north. There were many mortals there, and a handful of red drakes too. She never overheard any conversation about the war or about her presence there, but she was not spoken to much either. Just the courtesies: "Hello" or "Ishnu'alah", occasionally some small talk, but rarely any true conversations outside of business.
But she was afforded some respect for her role at the camp. Indeed, her presence was of vital importance; the Highborne were mostly elsewhere on Mount Hyjal, and she was one of the few beings there with any sort of magical talent. Her knowledge of magical artifacts was invaluable as well. The Twilight's Hammer possessed many items of immense power, and most of her comarades were unable to identify them. With her expertise, they could know where to send any item they discovered, and whether or not it was dangerous. There's no doubt that she saved lives.
Still, she was owed little respect. War was a funny thing in the way it affected the hearts and minds of the people involved, and Virigosa knew it. It was hard to blame the others; had the roles been reversed, would she not do the same thing? Regardless, it was a lonely existence.
Her average day was not dull by any stretch of the imagination. Virigosa always awoke at around noon, and only rested again when the first rays of dawn began to break up the inky blackness of the night sky. Northrend's day-night cycle was different, and at first, it was a difficult adjustment to make. Sometimes the nights were not very dark either: Ragnaros and the Twilight's Hammer had lit fires all over Mount Hyjal that grew ever-closer each day. Much of her time was spent watching these fires, tracking the activity of both the fires and the Twilight's Hammer.
There was great variation in her activities from day-to-day, too: some days, Virigosa would be tasked with sifting through a pile of artifacts. Others would be spent utilizing her magic for mundane tasks, like the creation of portals and the conjuration of food to supply the mortals with basic subsistence. Occasionally, she would be tasked along with a few other drakes with taking the fight directly to the Twilight's Hammer. These days were her favorite, as there was a lot of freedom in how she did that: she could strafe the ground with her icy breath, tear them to shreds, sweep them all away with her tail. It was strange, even morbid perhaps, but it was one of the few pleasures of war.
One day, Virigosa was called by the elven commander of the camp to the tent where the artifacts were stored. He beckoned her over to a strange object: a type of cube inlaid with strange lines and patterns.
"Harizius discovered this during the last raid on the far Twilight encampment," The commander explained. "We're not quite sure what it is, we were hoping that you might know."
Wordlessly, Virigosa stepped forward, lowering her head to the cube to inspect it closely. An idea entered her mind, and she placed a few talons on the top of the object. Immediately, she recoiled, staring at the commander with horror.
"Destroy it," The dragon's voice was grim, but calm. "I don't know what the Twilight's Hammer would want with that thing... I don't know how they could even come across such an idea."
The commander's expression was concerned, and he took a step towards Virigosa and the artifact. "What is it?"
"It looks like a sort of item meant to mimic an old blue dragon artifact, both in appearance and function," She answered. "It is difficult to explain the purpose to one such as yourself, but Malygos entrusted it to Neltharion long ago. It was to be buried within the earth so that none would ever find it."
Virigosa hesitated for a moment, but continued. "Should the cube be turned on, any magic in the area would be sucked in. Perhaps that does not sound bad to a night elf, but understand that the artifact would not discriminate. Not only would mages be incapable of using magic, but all creatures that survive off of magic would suffer. Dragons would die in its presence, the World-Tree Nordrassil would be reduced to a lifeless husk. On a place such as Mount Hyjal, it would be truly devastating."
The artifact itself was destroyed, as was instructed, but they still arrived.
Nobody quite knows how they came: it was almost like they came from nowhere, and indeed, maybe they did. But regardless, their arrival was swift and it was devastating. The tables turned within a matter of hours. Originally, the Green Dragonflight and their Wyrmrest Accord allies were the only beings in the skies apart from the birds and the Druids of the Talon, seeing as the Black Dragonflight did not have any significant presence. The Twilight's Hammer, however, was joined by a new and strange type of dragon.
Their first attack was swift and deadly; the camp at which Virigosa had been stationed was their first target. The camp was engulfed in shadowfire, which raged through the camp's tents and licked at the trunks of the surronding trees. The mortals that tried to flee were torn apart, their mangled bodies left to be consumed by the fire.
Virigosa was the only one that had experience in dragon-to-dragon combat, and her skills served her well. The green dragons at the camp were lambs to the slaughter, their attacks consisting of futile swipes at the twilight dragons' shoulders and haunches. The cleverest of the greens tried to flee, but the twilights were swifter and more agile than any of them. Virigosa had watched their attempts to escape, and saw the pattern in their attacks.
The twilights were not aware of the lone remaining dragon, and one landed to investigate the area. Through the flames, Virigosa stalked him; when he had oh-so-foolishly dropped his guard, she struck. She shredded his wings, ran her talons deep into his soft, vulnerable stomach, and let him beg for a death that would come all too slowly. It had been long since she had done that, and the memory haunted her.
She escaped into the sky, into the flock of twisted dragons that circled around the camp like ravens. One dove to attack her, but he was loud and clumsy, and she was able to dodge. Virigosa's flight maneuvers were strange and clumsy from lack of practice, but still, the twilight dragons could not catch her. They were new to this, she realized; they may have had practice, seeing how they dealt with the green dragons, but these dragons had never killed before. This was the first time they had tasted combat, and the first time they'd felt the desperation of fighting with their life on the line.
Over time, Virigosa could hear only the beating of her own wings, and the twilight dragons were gone. Her flight led her to the World Tree; by the time of her arrival, Virigosa was too exhausted to speak, and skidded into the ground when it came time to land. Immediately, her arrival caused chaos, as the Guardians of Hyjal scrambled to find out what was wrong. When Virigosa did not answer their questions, a green wyrm was sent out to speak to her.
"From where do you come, drake?" The wyrm asked, this time speaking Draconic.
"Mishzile." Virigosa said weakly, her voice raspy, before repeating in Common, "Water."
It was a long time before they could find something to bring it in, but through the work of some shaman, they found some water to give to the drake. She drank deeply and for a long time as the green wyrm waited patiently.
"I do apologize, it has been a long flight." The words took more out of her than she thought, and she moved to drink more of the water. "I come from a camp near the Shrine of Aessina."
The green wyrm nodded. "What is your name? What happened there?"
"I am Virigosa," Virigosa answered. "The Twilight's Hammer descended upon our camp, mounted upon terrible dragons. They breathed shadowfire that destroyed the camp, and tore apart green drakes and Kaldorei alike... I believe a few mortals may have escaped, but I knew all of the drakes there and all were dead except I."
The wyrm listened attentively, but did not comment on any of this information. She beckoned a night elf to her and whispered something to them, before once again turning her attention to the blue drake. "Do you have any injuries but the shoulder?"
While she was fleeing, one of the smaller drakes had put a nasty gash on Virigosa's shoulder; she felt a strange pressure on it as the wyrm spoke, and noticed a druid working some magic on it. "I don't believe so, but I haven't looked." The blue answered.
The wyrm thanked Virigosa for her time and returned to one of the main buildings in Nordrassl while the healer tended to the drake. She laid there, too tired to bother moving, until sleep overcame her and she was moved to an area on the outskirts of Nordrassil's village.