The camp was busy with the bodies of hundreds. They milled together like family at a gathering; dancing, laughing, drinking. Guards watched the proceedings with an easy gaze, not expecting the lurking trouble around them. In the near full-circle of mountain that they had camped themselves in, no one thought they would find harm. No one thought they'd see death.

Funny how these things work, thought the rogue as she stepped into the ring of firelight, her cloak drawn over her head until all that she could see was the ground and the feet that trod on it. Her fingers clenched, muffling the snap and crack of the glass in her palm, and she hunched her body down. "Help me... please." Her feet dragged across the dirt, a limp forming as she came closer to the guards who watched her carefully. "The Master is... he's in danger."

She lifted her head, letting the hood fall back to show the dirtied face, cheeks streaked with tears and blood. The men looked between each other for a moment, then started forward to offer a hand. Ashadel took them gratefully, shaking fingers latching around their bare wrists as they half hauled her to her feet. "Th-thank you. I must speak with the Master's Voice. Enemies come from the south, they've destroyed a camp already." Her tears started again, and she gripped them harder. "The walls attacked us... they attacked us!"

The men grunted under her steel grip, one of them shaking himself free and backing up. "You say that we've lost a camp? Two others..." He glanced at the second man, and nodded. "I'll find the Voice. Take her to the fire with the other two." There was a moment where he looked at the rogue as if seeing her for the first time, and then turned away, slowly.

Ashadel's lips pulled in a grin as both men moved in unison, dropping to their knees and holding their chests with pained looks. They were dead by the time they hit the ground, but she retained her grip on the one for a time, looking him over. "Shame. I've killed so many of my own kin, yet it never aches like it should." Her head turned, and she whistled softly into the darkness behind her.

"Grab the one that started walking off. Don't touch his wrists, and don't touch my hands. See if they've got gloves in those pouches." She struggled with the grip of the dead man she had held onto while Triadae obeyed her commands. "No, not their clothes. Just take the cloaks, it's all we'll need. Yes, Red..." Ashadel's eyes flashed to the woman, who stood looking between the bodies with horror in her eyes. "They're dead. I'm immune to my own toxins, and most generic types. It means I can be my own weapon. I've adapted."

"Why? What did you endure that required such adaptations?" The redhead turned to look at her, vivid green eyes narrowed in something that was mingled disgust and a deep-seated fear. "Don't tell me that it's just part of the job. I've dealt with your kind before... I've seen nothing like this."

"Then you haven't dealt with my kind." She made her tone seem careless, but there was hurt beneath the words, and she didn't miss the way the warrior seemed to ease. Her voice was low as she worked through the pouches of both men after they were stripped of their cloaks. "You've seen me in the camp, Red. You think a woman like me has many scruples? I'm good with swords, I'm good with axes. Light, I'll even handle a bow if I'm needed, but there's things I've been and done that have made me into a weapon. I don't expect you to understand, but I can promise you one thing." She stood after pocketing the few things in each man's pockets, removing her own cloak and taking one from her companion.

"I don't kill without reason. Even when I do kill, I don't like it. You are not a threat to me; if anything, I'm here to protect you. To see you smile again, and to find that spark that lies within and stoke it into a fire again. Not for me, and not for anyone else. Just you. I know what you've seen, and I know the terror it leaves deep inside you. I know that you're never going to be able to do some things the same way." A hand reached out and then stopped, pulling back, but she was glad to see that Triadae did not flinch under her moment of forgetfulness. "You've lost something, but you'll find it again. Find it before it kills you, Red. That's all I ask."

Ashadel watched the warrior for a few moments more before turning away and pulling the cloak hood up over her head again. She could hear Triadae doing the same, but there were no more words traded between the two of them. With a heavier heart, the woman brushed fingers against her throat before dragging both of the bodies away into the brush. She laid them both out, crossing hands over their chests and closing their eyes as if they were merely sleeping. Part of her deeply wished they were. "Whatever you believed in, I hope it was worth dying for. Whatever you believed watched over you, I hope it welcomes you into it's embrace... and forgives me for the lives I took."

The rogue turned away, looking back only once before returning to the side of her companion. "The two are by one of the fires. Follow in my footsteps, and do not look anywhere that you don't need to. I need you to find the military woman within you, and stick to it. From this point on, you're on your own. We don't know each other as anything more than people being in the same place at the same time. You can handle that." She didn't make it a question, didn't want to see the fear in the eyes of the other woman. "Get them, then get out."

"Alright."

"Good girl. Let's get this over with." The blonde stepped quickly into the firelight, with Triadae on her heels. The camp didn't look twice at them, too caught up in their own activities. Eating, drinking, training... Ashadel felt the prickle of unease sweep up her back, and she rolled her shoulders to settle it. Her pace quickened, eyes scouring the flames for the two that they sought, and she paused for just a moment, casting a glance back over her shoulder.

Triadae was gone.

A careful glance around showed here to be alone, and her fists clenched for a moment before she reached for the twin blades on her belt, wrapping her hands around the hilts and taking a deep breath to steady herself. It would have worked; it normally always worked like that, but this time, something was different. The blades sang in her blood, the voice of the dragon that had gifted her the swords echoing in her mind.

"I will so love hearing your death-cry..."

She dared not look at the cross-guards, dared not even breathe while it felt like the dragons that formed the hilt of her sword writhed and lived beneath her palm. Never before had the blades done such a thing, and it made her skin crawl. They were whispering like children, calling out in timid voices for someone that was just out of reach.

"Father..."

Her eyes scanned the fires, and saw the hulking figure of a tauren sitting beside one, his hand on the shoulder of a smaller form, one that she couldn't quite discern. Without a thought, she turned towards the fire that they sat at, noting how others seemed to keep their distance. That calmed her quite a bit, and she squared her shoulders as she stepped closer, finally near enough to drop into a crouch between the two.

"You're far from home, bull." She glanced sideways at the cloaked figure and saw the tusks, understood in a moment. "The ones you look for are not here. Only shadows and death remain."

"Eh?" The troll turned his head, narrowed dark eyes up at her own before looking at the hand she offered from beneath the shadows of her cloak. He watched the lines dance in the fire; fine lines of her palm glistening with the dust that mingled with sweat, and without another word, took the hand offered and rumbled a response. "Such is de way wit' de shadah's. Joo not be one o' dem, who leave dey's toxin's on dey's blades."

"Or in their words. No, I'm not one of them."

"Dis meetin' be a lon' time comin', ya? Dey sing ya praises in de dark, but dey fear da poison on ya lips." Bruzju took his hand back, flexing his fingers as she watched him. "Joo good wit' de toxins. Not often one can make ol' Bruzju's arm numb wit' powdah. Enou' ta kill, but joo alreadeh used some of dat on others, ya?"

"She called you a Spymaster. I figured you were as immune as I, if not more." Her grin was wry as she took a seat between them, noting the way they stiffened. "I've had my own adventures with your kind, Spymaster. Send my regards to Asithyl and Bruj'zu when you see them next, hmm? Though make sure you tell Asithyl that I will kill him if he shows his face again. So he'd better bring ropes."

The tauren snorted, his nose ring blowing and catching the slender elven ear of the rogue. "You'll both be able to pass that message along, as long as we get you both out from here." Her voice dropped, and the two leaned closer to listen. "We have teams working now to bring the mountain down. Well, a team at the very least. I'm not sure what my others are doing. I had another, but I seem to have lost her in the crowd."

She paused as sound went up around them, a joyous and excited cry that rang through the area louder each time it was spoken. Once more, the dreaded feeling slithered down her spine. Around them there was movement, the sound of many feet, and she realized that they were being left behind as more and more crowded around the flames. Her eyes were drawn to them, to the shadows that rose and fell against the stone, and then higher... to the flames that danced in the sky.

"Father..."

"We need to go. We need to go now!" Ashadel jumped as a hand fell on her shoulder and gripped hard, pulling her up. Dimly, she was aware of another figure helping the troll to his feet, the tauren just behind him. Her mind cleared, and she recalled the voice of Riv as he pulled her closer, as the crowd pushed and swelled against them. "We're not getting out of here if we don't leave now."

"What?" Her mind wouldn't clear completely, reason lost behind absolute terror as the flames in the sky lifted and fell as if on wings.

"Ruddy... Ashadel! They're forging plates! Huge plates, big enough for a dragon, and I'm not talking a wyrm or drake. How many dragons do you know who wear metal plating, Asha?" His voice dropped, and he whirled her around to face her. "If we don't leave now, the only way we're getting out is in tiny little boxes to the families we don't have. Where's the girl?"

"I l-lost her..." The rogue shook her head, trying to fight the incessant cry in the back of her mind. "We need to find her."

"There's no time!"

"There's always time!" She pushed away from him and glared back at his steady gaze..

"Asha..." His tone was sympathetic, grating on her ears with truth beneath his gentle tone. "There's no time to be looking for someone you want to warm your bed. I know the feeling, but we all know the risks when we take the jobs we do. It's time to go, and we need all the time we can to get these two out. You have to let her go. Don't be a hero, for the love of Elune."

The woman looked between the others, turned her head to look through the group, and then looked back. "Get out, and then bring it down." She lifted a hand and dug out a small object, tossing it over. "Give that to the Matron, should I not make it out. That's my order, move." She didn't wait for him to respond, diving into the crowd with as much fervor as those who were milling around to greet their visitor.

"Fawn?" Triadae stopped moving as the crowd dispersed, and found that her companion was no where to be seen. Her hand slipped behind her, gripping the sheath of her blade for support before she looked around again. No use. She was truly alone, and she had no idea what was to be done about it. Something told her that she should merely walk away, but something else itched in the back of her mind.

A sense of hatred and betrayal that wouldn't shake. It was here, among people like this, that she had lost everything. Her honor, and her love. Kalthor wouldn't even look at her now, and she couldn't even blame herself any longer. Terror subsided as people passed her and didn't bother looking at her more closely than they needed to move around her.

"Find it before it kills you..."

What had she meant? The question burned in her mind, burrowed deeper than her resentment and anger. The words had struck a chord, and she could no more shake that off than she could anything else. It was going to drive her mad. Triadae whirled on a heel and pushed into the crowd, no more understanding the action than she could understand what was going through her mind.

Something was pulling at her, the same feeling that she had experienced once before, when she knew without knowing how that the army before her was parting around the single figure she dreaded to find. Her sister, standing with a legion of undead behind her, and Triadae herself, with only the bodies of her men. Men and women that she had lead to their deaths. That wasn't going to happen here, but the dread filled her, made her see the long-gone face of her kin in every shadow, and still she pushed.

Her hand touched the arm of one, and the dread boiled over into her mind, making her recoil quickly. Too late, the figure turned to berate her, and she saw the elven face, the beauty of the Kaldorei, moments before the horrific scarring along the other half was shown. Her stomach turned, her recoil became one of disgust, but the hand reached out and grasped her at the same time the deathly hiss was heard in her ears.

"You!" The silver-haired woman gripped her tighter, pulled her closer, and Triadae saw heatless flames dance in front of her face and felt the manacles on her wrists before the reality pushed past the memory and slapped her firmly. "You were supposed to die, I saw the mountain come down on you!" Nails dug painfully into her wrists, and yet she couldn't move. No longer out of fear, but out of a sense of pity; there was fear in the eyes that tried to look at her with hate.

"Let me go, please." Her voice came out as a rasp, pulling back from hands that only gripped harder. "I'm only here to get my friends. I swear it, I haven't come to do anything else but get my friends!" Her voice was rising into hysteria as fear once more pushed into her heart, the pity gone as fire danced around them.

Ninya peered at the woman a few moments more before loosening her grip, a wheezing breath escaping her. "They came for you." There was sorrow in her voice, tears starting in the eye that had not been burned out. "They could have taken me, too... but they came for you. Why for you? Was I not as important?"

Triadae opened her mouth to speak and was silenced by a finger placed to her lips. Without a sound, the Kaldorei woman pulled her away, against the tide of people that had begun to grow around the fires, and closer to the rocks. No longer was her grip like iron around her wrists, but the urgency was there regardless. She didn't make a sound as she was all but thrown against the rock, the rogue stepping in close and placing both hands near her head, pinning her in place.

"Are they alive? Don't speak, just nod or shake your head. They are alive, then?" Ninya seemed to relax, relief flowing in her words. "I was so... happy. I've made a terrible, terrible mistake. The power, the lure... you would understand it, wouldn't you? Of anyone who would know the power, it would be you. I see it in your eyes. Are they with you, here? Don't speak – yes, act shy. The less they think I'm interrogating you, the better. I'm dead, anyway.

Everything hit me harder than the mountain when I saw them." For a moment, the steel in her voice fell away to reveal the tattered hope beneath it. "What I was doing, who I was serving... it all came into sharp relief when I saw them. You must have been just as shocked, but I..." The woman choked on her words, nails scratching against stone. "By Elune, I thought they were dead and gone... the only reason they'd never come. I'm sorry."

Triadae's eyes widened as the words thundered inside her ears in tune to her heartbeat. She opened her mouth to speak, only to be silenced again.

"After what happened... I rebelled. They found me, and I tried to kill them. This camp here? It's for the ones that are useless. The ones to be used as lessons to everyone else; the failures, the traitors. They give us things to do, but we all know we're little more than cattle coming home to the slaughter. Heh, I'm one of the lucky ones. I live these last days in pain, but it will be over soon." Her hands moved quickly, gripping and squeezing Triadae's shoulders so tightly that the smaller woman was forced to bite back a scream.

"He's coming. He's coming, and we're all going to die beneath his flame. Not you... no. Not you, not your friends. I need you. A favor that I have no business asking, but I am begging you to find it in your heart to forgive me and do this final thing for me. Do this for me, and I will help you get out." The fingers began to shake, words breaking into quiet sobs and pleas. "Had I known, had I not fallen into such hate, I'd have found them myself. A favor, it is all I ask!"

"You'll have it." Her voice was quiet, but it didn't need to be more than a breath to catch the attention of the Kaldorei. Triadae's arms lifted, her own hands gripping the arms of the other woman in the embrace of kin. "I forgive you, for all that you did to me."

Through tears, the Kaldorei nodded quickly, relief coloring her tone again. She released Triadae, reaching into her tattered robes and pulling a necklace over her head, dropping it into Triadae's palm. A simple silver necklace, with an ornate ring attached. "Give this to Lydros. Tell him... tell him I'm sorry that I did not tell him the truth. I'm sorry that I hid her from him all this time, out of necessity and out of love." Her hands shook, and she clasped them together. "Winnie... tell her that there's a box for her in my home, hidden beneath the bed slats. The worgen... Brinny, tell her...

Tell her that she was the last thing I saw before I walked into that portal. The last thing that gave me hope that it would be alright. Tell her that I never stopped hoping she'd come for me, to release me from the trap I had built around myself. Deep down, I never stopped hoping... my tools are hers." Her voice faded, tired. "Tell them all that I loved them. It was that love that turned on me, became resentment and sorrow and hate. Tell them, tell my friends, that I am so very sorry."

A cry rose in the camp, and people pushed around them, all heading for one place. All heading for the fires where the hammers worked. Ninya knew, and could not bring herself to look up. "There is a crevice in the rocks not far from here. You won't make it out of the camp without violence, which will bring the entire place down on you. If you try to run, others will try, it would be a madhouse. But there's a crevice in the rocks, between two of the stones. You can climb it, straight to the top. We liked to sit up there at times. Watch freedom.

It's shielded from sight, and if you're quick and careful, you can get over the ridge at the top. I can't say it'll be easy getting down... but it's better than dying here. We marked the place with white, so you'll find it easily. I'll... make certain that no one is looking at you. Just get out, and get out alive. Tell them... and live. Tear this horror that we have started down around their ears." She backed away, grabbing Triadae's shoulder and shoving her violently away in the direction she should go. "Whatever you do... don't look up."

The warrior cringed as people flooded around her, battering her and trying to draw her to the others without even realizing it. In the confusion, Ninya vanished without a word, and Triadae whirled to push against the current, muttering something about forgotten hammers to those who might complain. It seemed an eternity before she was free from the crowd, and she stumbled forward a few steps against the loss of force, only to be grabbed again.

"It's me!"

Ashadel's voice flooded her ears, and without a thought, the warrior grabbed the wrist of the other woman and all but hauled her after as she set in search of the rocks that she had been told of. She ignored the protests and pleas of the other woman, her mind focused only on her task. When the rock came into view, she all but threw the rogue ahead of her, even as the prickle of fear and horror began to make it up her spine again.

"Dea -"

Triadae's gloved hand snapped over the rogue's mouth, her voice a hiss. "Don't say it. I don't care about anything other than getting ourselves out of here. Get behind the rock, get in the crevice, and start climbing." She watched the startled rogue move for a moment before looking back, and saw a hand lift above the crowd with dagger drawn...

… and then it plunged, and the shout went up again. The clash of steel on metal could be heard, and she realized deep in her gut what the Kaldorei had done. She turned away, following Ashadel into the crevice to find that it was less of a crevice and more of a chute, making her bite back a wash of bile and horror once more. The two climbed while the sounds became louder; screams, steel, the scent of burning flesh... and then the feeling of the ground shuddering as something large hit it. Triadae nearly climbed into her companion's backside, not realizing the woman had stopped.

"Don't think about it, and keep moving."

"I don't work like that."

"I don't care!" Triadae's hiss broke into a clipped snarl. "Keep moving!"

They climbed. For what seemed like hours they climbed, until at last they could feel fresh air against broken skin, and they both hauled themselves from the chute with grateful gasps of air that seemed too thin and not nearly enough to feed the burning muscles. The warrior glanced up, made the mistake of focusing on the dancing flames in the sky, and felt fear freeze her.

Deathwing needed no introduction. There were few alive who did not know one story or another that centered around the corrupted dragon, but it was one thing to hear a tale, and another to see it in person. The largest dragon she had seen, his flame riddled body – one that was falling apart at the seams – made an impressive statement against the black wall of night.

How do we save a world from that? Her mind screamed the words she wanted to say, and she pulled her eyes from the looming spectre of death to glance at the fighting below. It had become carnage, and she could just barely make out the bloodied form of Ninya, unmoving amidst a pile of wounded and dying. Is sacrifice the only way? Just looking at him... all hope seems to fly away. I'm terrified...

"Get up. We need to move. We need to go." She pushed herself to her feet, grasped the arm of the rogue who stared in numb shock at the Aspect of Death, and hauled. Together, they staggered over sharp rocks, looking for the quickest way down, and their steps became more hurried as they heard the roar of the dragon behind them, felt the flames of his anger and heard the screams of those that had survived only to be baked alive...

… and then the mountain really did shudder. Triadae nearly tripped over Ashadel as the rogue froze, and the warrior was privy to a moment of panic and horror that she had never expected to see. The mountain shook again, and sound seemed to close in on them and blasted away with a noise that could have rivaled any thunderclap.

Ashadel screamed, a sound of terror realized... and Triadae grasped her, pulling her close as the mountainside came down around them.