You are home.
The whispers echoed in Sariona's head, as they did to all twilight dragons. She couldn't help but feel joy bubbling up as the familiar forests and valleys came into view below, Araxion just above and ahead of her. She felt an urge to swoop and dive and spin around in the air, to play with Araxion as she'd done under Esteria's tutelage. But it was all business now, no time for goofing off and acting like newborn drakes fresh from the egg.
I wish Kasiona could see this.
Almost as soon as it began to form, Sariona reprimanded herself for the thought. These days, it seemed, she could hardly go an hour without thinking of Kasiona. Kasiona's dead and buried now. Give it up. But Sariona couldn't get the thoughts out of her head, of Kasiona's pretty crimson-purple wings, the inky shimmer of her scales, that tone of voice she used when they were all alone together. Give it up.
Sariona knew that it was never really love. It couldn't have been; just infatuation, the short-lived relationships characteristic of youth, cut even shorter by war. It had to be. Soon, Sariona was sure, she'd never think of Kasiona again. She'd be completely focused on the war, completely loyal to the Twilight's Hammer and to the Old Gods. Eventually, she was sure, she'd forget the name "Kasiona" entirely. That was how it was, it had to be.
The reds here keep up the fight, but their efforts are ultimately futile. Look, they fight, but twilight claws slice through them effortlessly. Twilight will consume all.
The words were comforting as Sariona and Araxion flew over the charred forest. The forest was once sacred to the Red Dragonflight, Sariona recalled, before the Black Dragonflight claimed it from them. It was so easy to take. If the Red Dragonflight couldn't defend their own strongholds, their own sacred spaces, how could they ever hope to defend all of Azeroth? Their efforts were futile, all of them. There was no chance at winning.
"Look at them," Sariona's voice was laced with contempt. "Pitiful."
"I see them," Araxion said. "Provided their aspect doesn't show up like Ysera did in Hyjal, I'd say there's not a chance we'll lose."
Alexstrasza? That cowardly 'queen'? The whispers were indignant. She stands not a chance against the forces of twilight. She can't even protect her own brood! We have taken in her clutch and made them strong.
"She should thank us," Sariona said, taking her cue from the whispers. "Look how strong her children are among the forces of twilight."
Araxion paused for a moment, but agreed. "I've seen no red that can stand up to a twilight in battle," he said.
The great spire was visible now in the distance, the entrance to the Bastion of Twilight, accessible only on dragonback. It was the beautiful home of the Twilight Dragonflight, the place where both Sariona and Araxion were born, the place where thousands of twilight drakes were hatched and readied for war. Maybe "beautiful" was a stretch, but it was home and Sariona was reluctantly willing to admit, just to herself, that she missed it.
"It's been a long time," Araxion remarked, landing among the twilight tents on the ground.
"We've been out furthering a worthy cause," Sariona almost sounded defensive. "In the name of the Old Gods. There is no greater honor."
Araxion was quiet again, for a moment, his head lowered. "But don't you miss it, even a little bit?"
"Our cause honors me," Sariona answered, coldly.
Araxion shook his head and raised it to look around the camp. "See anyone who might be the taskmaster?"
"The high priestess said that he was a tall tauren," Sariona said. "So as far as I'm concerned, hundreds of people could be the taskmaster."
Hundreds, yes, hundreds. Thousands have heard our message, thousands are here to spread twilight and devour the world.
Mortal footsteps could be heard behind the drakes, and a cultist bowed his head respectfully. "You're looking for the taskmaster?" Sariona nodded, and the cultist continued. "He's just by the base of the Bastion, in his tent. You should have an appointment, though, or else he..."
Sariona didn't bother to listen, instead lifting off again. She gestured for Araxion to come and didn't waste any time in finding the tent. Araxion landed beside her, and they approached the front of the tent. A cultist stood guard outside the tent, holding a clipboard.
"Names, drakes?" the cultist asked.
"Sariona," she said, then gestured to her friend. "And this is Araxion."
The cultist, wordlessly, wrote something on the clipboard and gestured for the drakes to enter.
The tent was surprisingly empty, Sariona noted, a plain dirt floor with no furniture and a few smaller rooms of the tent blocked off by tarps. Only the main part of the tent was large enough for a drake. There was almost nobody else in the tent, either- Sariona could hear only the breathing of herself, Araxion, and one mortal.
One of the tarps flipped up and out walked a tauren, dressed in notably clean twilight garb. He clapped once at the sight of the drakes. "Araxion," he point as the drakes as he spoke, "And Sariona?"
"Correct," Sariona answered.
The taskmaster grinned. "I've been getting better at telling the difference between the dragon sexes," he said. "You all look the same as drakes."
Sariona flicked her tail with indignation, but let no other sign of her feelings show. "It's an honor to meet you, taskmaster." Araxion broke in, bowing. After a long moment of hesitation, Sariona bowed, too.
"No need for such pleasantries," the taskmaster said. "Let's get straight to business, shall we?"
Araxion inched a little bit closer to Sariona. He's nervous, that coward. She gently swatted him away with her tail, a gesture subtle enough to not catch the taskmaster's attention, and he looked at Sariona sadly.
"Araxion," the taskmaster began. "You've been selected for something very, very special. Lord Kerelion chose you for a project overseen by the Master- your father- himself, the details of which even I am unaware. As soon as this meeting is over, they'd like you to report to the Bastion. Lord Kerelion will guide you to your new quarters."
Sariona felt a sense of dread creeping up her spine, and she looked at Araxion. A feeling of concern welled up behind her blank expression, but she dispelled it almost as quickly as it came, refusing to acknowledge it, refusing to let herself feel it.
You will do well at the task she has chosen for you.
Almost on cue, in time with the whispers, the taskmaster continued. "Sariona, you have been chosen as the first of our drakes to work with our naga allies, under the best and brightest of naga sorceresses. The party will come to bring you to Nazjatar within a week or so. Consider yourself to have free roam over the twilight camps and the highlands until then, just don't get yourself killed. Do us proud."
The naga, Sariona thought. It was not particularly unexpected after the meeting, but her head was still swirling with questions. Nazjatar. What do they want with a dragon?
From dragons in skies to the deepest recesses of the sea, our influence is boundless.
"Good luck, both of you," the taskmaster said.
The drakes exited the tent, and almost immediately, Araxion turned to Sariona. "You're going to Nazjatar!" he said.
"Yes," Sariona was careful to add deliberate disinterest to her voice. "I am."
Araxion's excitement immediately began to dissipate. Good. He's annoying when he does that anyways.
"And I'm going to meet the Master," he said. "You'll visit me before you leave, won't you?"
"Of course," Sariona said. "Of course."
"I'll go find Kerelion, then, unless there's anythng else you'd like to say," Araxion moved a little closer.
Sariona shook her head. "No, nothing."
Araxion stood looking at her for a while, hesitant to take off, then lifted himself into the sky.
A/N: While the story is mostly pre-written (at the point that this was published, I'm currently working on Chapter 26), but I haven't had time to go over the upcoming chapters and smooth out the narrative. As such, updates are probably going to come slowly for a little while.