Christie Golden - Thrall - Twilight of the Aspects

“We will never know if Arygos was sane when he made that bargain,” said Kalec with quiet fury. “But, for the sake of his memory, let us hope he was not.”

Kirygosa nodded, composing herself with a visible effort. “He was certainly devoted to the cult, but beyond that, I cannot say.”

“What he did to you—”

“It is done, and over,” she said, and Thrall realized that she was trying to reassure Kalecgos, even after all she had endured. She was unspeakably brave.

“So two blows were dealt to their plans. But they still had Chromatus.” Her voice broke, and she struggled visibly to regain her composure.

“I don’t know where they found him. The cultists brought him all the way to Northrend, knowing that they needed vast stores of arcane energy to give him the spark of life. And for that, they needed a surge needle created from the blood of a child of Malygos.”

“Then—forgive me,” said Thrall, “but … why did they not use your blood for that purpose sooner?”

“I believe they wanted to wait until Arygos brought them the blues,” she said. “Think of what a sight that would have made: Chromatus would have first been beheld by his enemies at full strength, at the forefront of a vast dragon army. I do not think the Twilight Father originally intended to kill Arygos. But when my brother failed, the Twilight Father made sure he still had a use. He made sure I did, too. I escaped before they tried to—to breed me to that thing .”

Thrall was appalled. The two female Aspects looked ill, and Thrall realized that if the Twilight Father were to suddenly appear right now, Kalec would likely cheerfully have ripped him apart. And Thrall would have joined in.

“It could have worked, too,” Kiry continued. “I could have been the mother of an entire new flight of abominations. Chromatus was the final experiment of Nefarian—who, as I have learned, also lives. After a fashion. He has been reanimated, but not brought to life as Chromatus has been.”

“Nefarian is an undead atrocity, then.” While Kirygosa had spoken, other dragons had drawn close to listen, and now a large red moved his massive frame to stand protectively over Alexstrasza and Kirygosa—both with hearts and spirits terribly wounded, and yet both so strong. The red continued: “Is he here as well?”

Kiry shook her head. “No, I think Deathwing has other plans for him. Chromatus will be enough. Kalec—you surprised him last time. He was but newly born. And even so …” Her voice trailed off.

“Even so, my entire flight was defeated,” Kalec finished for her.

“You do not stand alone now, Kalecgos,” Alexstrasza reassured him. “Three full flights stand together. He may have been able to defeat one flight, but three? Long has it been since we fought so, and I do not think, monstrous as he is, one single dragon can stand against all of us!”

Kirygosa seemed agitated at the words and grasped Alexstrasza’s hand. “Life-Binder,” she said, “He—he was made … for you.” She looked at Kalec and Ysera as well. “All of you. He is more than just an exceptionally powerful chromatic dragon. He was brought to life with a specific purpose: to destroy the Aspects!”

Thrall opened his mouth in an automatic denial, then closed it. He had seen Chromatus. He saw what the monster could do. At full health, with the abilities of each flight his own—

“So it is true,” said Ysera, looking stricken. “My vision is true.”

Alexstrasza reached out her other hand to Ysera. “Speak, Sister,” she implored.

“I had hoped … I was wrong. …” Ysera closed her eyes and spoke in a dreamy, singsong voice. It was not a spell, not in the truest sense of the word, but the scene she described had an enchantment all its own. Thrall could almost see what she spoke of in his own mind: the death of all things, save the twilight dragonflight. No plants, no beasts, no beings, no living thing at all drew breath save them. And each of the Aspects lay dead and stiffening.

Even the darkest, cruelest one of all. The one who had helped make the monster that brought it about.

Deathwing.

Thrall trembled and felt cold sweat trickling over his skin. Panic threatened to seize his throat. Others around him lifted their voices in fear, in anger, in grim acceptance, but one voice rang out clearly.

“It is not our doom!”

The voice belonged to the Life-Binder. She stood, still in her humanoid form, still holding the hands of her sister and the traumatized Kirygosa. Her face was bright with resolve and passion. “We have already seen that we have disrupted this grandiose plan of Deathwing’s. Arygos’s failure. Kiry’s escape. The blues attacking Chromatus before he was fully ready. No, this is not set in stone. Ysera’s visions always have meaning, yes. But dreams always rely on interpretation. Sister—could this be a warning as to what might happen if we do not fight?”

Ysera cocked her horned head. “Yes,” she said. “Only Nozdormu knows what will truly be. I only share what I saw.”

“Then let us resolve now,” Alexstrasza said, “that we will set to this fight with all we have. Every blue, every green, every red dragon—know that you fight not only for your lives but for all life. All things. We will take on this so-called Aspect slayer, and we will show the Twilight Father and Deathwing himself that we will not be cowed. No matter what we have lost—or stand to lose—the thing we will not lose is our world. Chromatus will fall!”

And the hope that Thrall felt swell about him was so real, so sincere, he could taste it, and he lifted his own orcish voice in the cry of determination and will that filled the air.

Despite her ordeal, Kirygosa was more than eager—and able—to help plan the attack. Thrall noticed that even those who had once supported Arygos gravitated to her. The process of winning the heart and soul of the blues, begun with Kalec and his joyous ascent to Aspect in the light of two moons, was cemented by bearing witness to Kirygosa’s calm courage.

The three Aspects, Thrall, Kirygosa, and a few representatives from each flight, all in humanoid forms, gathered together to begin strategizing in earnest. All present knew the layout of Wyrmrest Temple, and Kirygosa was able to tell them exactly what was now where. Here was where Chromatus rested and recovered—“More with each passing hour,” she warned them darkly. There was where the Twilight Father spent most of his time. All beasts of burden and mounts were in another area, and she was able to give a solid approximation of the number of cultists and dragons the three flights were likely to encounter.

“Are there any weaknesses we can exploit?” asked the red dragon Torastrasza.

“The Twilight Father is human,” Kirygosa replied. “He is older, with a weathered face and a gray beard, and he is extremely arrogant. I know that he is powerful in his own right, and that those he leads know nothing about his true loyalties.”

“He is a leader?” asked Thrall. “A military commander, perhaps?”

“He does strike me as a military man,” Kirygosa said, “but I admit I know little about humans. One thing I do know: he fears Deathwing.”

“As all sane beings should,” murmured Ysera, and she ducked her head in sorrow.

“It may make him overconfident,” mused Torastrasza. “He may make foolish errors.”

“I am not certain that any amount of overconfidence will be detrimental to him with such an ally as Chromatus,” said Thrall. “You did not witness the battle against the blues. We now have greater numbers and different methods of attacking. But we should not underestimate him.”

“Too, the cultists will gladly die for him,” said Kirygosa. “They will fight until they are slain.”