Christie Golden - Thrall - Twilight of the Aspects

The only twilight dragons they had found were corpses. The rest had fled, leaderless and afraid. And Chromatus—

Concerned that some other dark power might try to revive Chromatus, the dragons had attempted to destroy the corpse.

They had failed. Some powerful spell, probably woven into the dark marriage of magic and technology that had animated him in the first place, protected the body from all their efforts to obliterate it.

“Then he must be guarded until such time as we can find a way to completely destroy him,” Alexstrasza had decided. “Representatives from our flights will stand watch over him. He is not dead … but if he lies without the spark of animation, he will harm no one again.”

“During the Nexus War, Malygos created arcane prisons,” Kalecgos had said. “We know how well they worked. We can construct one large enough—and strong enough—to hold him.”

Now five figures stood, four dragons and one orc, gazing to the east. “We will go our separate ways shortly,” Nozdormu said quietly. “But we will never be truly apart. Never again.” He lifted his head to regard them. “Thrall … I told you something of what I had learned.” Thrall nodded, and listened as Nozdormu shared with the other Aspects the dire news he had imparted to Thrall earlier.

“Thrall found me becaussse I was attempting to find the answer to sssomething. You all know that I was given the knowledge of the hour and manner of my own death. While I would never sssubvert what I know to be true and right—in my travels, in one timeway—I became leader of the infinite dragonflight.”

They stared at him, horrified. For a long moment no one could even summon the ability to speak. Then Alexstrasza said very gently, “You said one timeway. Is it the true one, my old friend?”

“I do not know,” he said. “I was searching to discover that very thing. To—to find some way to avoid becoming something so antithetical to all that I stand for. And it was while on that quest that I learned what I asked Thrall to share with you: that all of the suffering we have had to deal with—the madness of Malygos and Deathwing, the Emerald Dream turned to a nightmare, the Twilight Cult … everything—it is all intertwined. This much I shared with Thrall. And the reason I was late in coming to your aid was that I was following another thread of information. I have discovered who is behind this vast and dreadful conspiracy.”

His eyes gleamed, brilliant with righteous anger in the coming dawn. “It … I can barely ssspeak of it, even now. It is”—his mighty voice dropped to a low whisper—“the Old Gods!”

The three other mighty Dragon Aspects stared at him, their own eyes wide with shock and worry. At their expressions, Thrall’s own heart sped up with dread. He knew something of these figures, ancient and evil; two of them lurked in Ulduar and Ahn’Qiraj. “I have heard of these beings,” Thrall said, “but you clearly know more.”

For a moment no one spoke, as if to speak of them might cause them to appear. Then: “You have heard old tales, Thrall,” said Alexstrasza, her vibrancy subdued. “Tales of evil whisperings in one’s mind, that urge one to do dark and terrible things. Subtle whispers that sound like one’s own thoughts.”

And Thrall realized he had. “The tauren say that the first time evil ever left its mark on them was when they heard and harkened to dark whispers.”

Ysera nodded, looking miserable. “The whispers penetrated even into the Emerald Dream,” she said.

“Even,” Kalecgos said, “into Deathwing’s mind, when he was still Neltharion the Earth-Warder. It is the Old Gods who drove him mad, Thrall. Drove all the black dragons mad.”

“They are old, older even than we,” said Nozdormu. “They were here even before the titansss came, and would have ruined this world had not our creatorsss intervened. A battle sssuch as this world has never seen since raged. They were locked away—hidden in the dark placesss of the earth, drowsing in enchanted slumber.”

“Only with their whispers could they reach us,” said Alexstrasza. “At least … until very recently.” She lifted stricken eyes to Nozdormu. “And you say they are the ones behind everything? Neltharion’s corruption, we know of, and at least one rift in the timeways—but everything? For so many millennia?”

“To what end?” asked Kalecgos.

“Do they need one?” asked Ysera. “Who knows how the Old Gods think, or dream? They are evil, and even in this slumber, that evil seeps out.”

“What is sure is that all those dark events—they caused. Did they do it sssimply because they hate, or because they plot? We may never know. All we need to know is that they happened, and they had terrible consequencesss.”

He looked at them intently. “Think of how each of these things wounded us ssso. They tore us apart. They made us mistrust one another. Recall how quickly we turned on Korialstrasz, when in reality his deed was ssself-sacrificing and heroic. Even you doubted, my dear,” he said gently to Alexstrasza, who lowered her crimson head.

“I think that even my becoming leader of the infinite dragonflight, if it mussst happen, is traceable to them. But today … we learned. We, so old, so ssseemingly wise.” He chuckled slightly. “We discovered that we must work together as one if we are to ssstand firm against what is coming.” He turned to Ysera. “Will we stand otherwise?” he asked very gently.

She shook her head. “No,” she said. “Without the unity we have found—without the unity we must continue to find, again and again and again—we will never be able to stand against the coming Hour of Twilight and—and the vision I saw.”

“I thought this was the Hour,” Thrall said, confused.

She shook her head again. “Of course it wasn’t,” she said tolerantly, as if he were simple. Thrall’s only comfort was that the other dragons assembled seemed to be as confused as he. Ysera was powerful, and benevolent, but she did truly exist slightly apart from other beings.

“You have helped us, as I saw that you would,” the green Aspect continued. “I wasn’t sure how … but you have. The mosaic is no longer simple chips of colored stone. It is taking shape and form now. The visions and dreams I have had—they will manifest. It has taken one who is not one of us to bring us together so. And because we are together … when the true Hour comes … we shall not fail.”

“I came here with a hope for unity among the dragonflights in my heart,” said Alexstrasza. “And after so much pain and loss and struggle … it has happened in a way that I could never have foreseen. My reds will always welcome you, Thrall, son of Durotan and Draka. Take this, as a token of that pledge.” Delicately, using one massive foreclaw, she scratched at her heart. A single small scale fell to the floor, glittering crimson. Thrall picked it up and respectfully put it in his pouch—the same pouch that had once held the acorn of an ancient, and still held the necklace given to him by a young human girl.

“As will my bronzes, friend to the timeways,” said Nozdormu. He, too, gifted Thrall with a precious, gleaming scale.

“The Emerald Dream is not your realm, shaman, but know that, from time to time, I will send you dreams of healing. My scale, too, you may have. With all my heart, I thank you for accepting my request,” said Ysera.

Kalec bent his great head down, and in the first hints of the warm rose light of dawn, Thrall was certain he saw a single tear shining in the bright eyes as the blue Aspect offered a scale from over his heart.

“You, without any doubt or exaggeration, have saved the blue dragonflight. Anything you ask of me, you will have.”