In a quiet field east of the city of Hillsbrad when the moons were high and most people were asleep, Krivax looked down at the two children in front of him with exasperation.
One of them was the destined orc Chosen One, who was also much larger than he had been expecting. The boy was only six years old, yet he was already as tall as an average human and reminded Krivax of a young athlete rather than an adolescent child. Thrall was looking up at him with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, which wasn’t surprising given the events of the past few days.
Retrieving Thrall from Lord Blackmoore had been a relatively straightforward affair. Although Blackmoore was a noble, he didn’t possess a fraction of the political influence that Krivax or Turalyon did. Once Krivax was able to sense the young orc in the dungeons of Durnholde Keep and inform Turalyon of Thrall’s location, everything else was a forgone conclusion. Blackmoore had tried to stop them, but there was very little that he could do to prevent them from just taking the young orc boy.
Lord Blackmoore could attempt to levy a complaint against them in the Lordraenian House of Nobles, but nobody would risk offending Azjol-Nerub or the Church of the Holy Light for a minor noble engaged in criminal activity. It helped that several of the man’s subordinates took the opportunity to accuse Lord Blackmoore of all manner of crimes, especially toward his female servants. As a paladin and noble himself, Turalyon had been absolutely outraged and was currently bringing the matter to the Lordraenian House of Nobles.
Thankfully, the general hatred toward orcs meant that nobody actually kept an eye on Thrall after he was taken from Blackmoore. That made it easy for Krivax to spirit the young orc away after he was taken to an internment camp.
Anyone who decided to look into the matter would just find documents marking him as deceased and look no further.
From there, Krivax intended to simply drop young Thrall off with the Frostwolf Clan hiding in Alterac Valley. This would give the kid a good chance to become acquainted with orc culture and learn his people’s shamanistic traditions. Having seen the current state of the internment camps, Krivax did not think it was wise to leave a potential future orc leader in those conditions. Sending him to the Frostwolf clan was the most reasonable solution.
It should have been rather straightforward, but he hadn’t taken into account the young girl who was currently glaring at him with open defiance. Krivax had no idea what happened to Taretha Foxton in the original timeline, but she and Thrall were very much attached to one another in this one. The girl was all of eleven years old and ready to fight anyone trying to take away her little brother.
Watching a six-foot-tall orc demurely defer to a preteen human girl who barely reached his chest would have been a comical sight if it wasn’t giving Krivax such a headache.
“I understand how you feel, Taretha, but I’m absolutely not going to kidnap an eleven-year-old girl and send her to live with a clan of orcs,” Krivax said gently, hiding his astonishment at the utter nonsense coming from the kid’s mouth. “The only reason that you are here is that Thrall categorically refused to come with me unless he spoke to you first.”
“Why not?! Thrall needs my help, and we’re family!” Taretha argued, her eyes welling with tears but her voice unwavering. “You can’t just send him all alone to live with a bunch of orcs! He’s never even met one before!”
“You have parents Taretha. Parents who love you and would be very sad if you disappeared,” Krivax said patiently. “The orcs that Thrall is going to live with have settled somewhere very difficult to live. It’s no place for a young human girl.”
There was a good reason Alterac Valley had never been settled by anyone other than a clan of sturdy orcs.
“Daddy is in jail for helping Lord Blackmoore and Mommy thinks all orcs are monsters despite raising and nursing Thrall herself! She doesn’t even know how nice he is,” Taretha said bitterly as she wiped the tears from her eyes. “I just want to be with my brother!”
Krivax felt sympathetic toward the girl, but what could he do? There really wasn’t any realistic way for Thrall and Taretha to live together without one of them being placed in danger. Krivax patiently explained to Taretha why what she was asking was impossible, even as she cried, pleaded, and even threatened to ‘tell on him.’
He couldn’t help but find it amusing that a child was trying to blackmail him, but Krivax made it clear to Taretha that she would be putting Thrall in danger if she told anyone about what he was doing. Krivax figured it was probably just a bluff, as the girl seemed smart enough to know that nobody would believe her anyway.
Just when the stubborn kid was about to start her next round of arguments and Krivax was starting to feel like he was bullying a little girl, they were both interrupted by the violet light of someone teleporting into the clearing.
Finally…
“I apologize for being late, but it took a bit of effort to cover your tracks, Vizier Krivax,” said Krasus, scowling mildly in his direction as he approached. The dragon appeared in his elven form to avoid scaring the two children. “It was simple to ensure nobody noticed the girl’s disappearance, but your personal guards are more vigilant than I expected. I was forced to craft a rather complex illusion in your sleeping chambers in order to deceive them.”
“Thank you, Archmage Krasus. I appreciate everything that you’ve done to assist me,” Krivax replied genuinely. It was honestly a big relief to be able to ask for a helping hand from people who knew about the things he was trying to change.
The Archmage waved his hand dismissively. “No need for thanks, Vizier Krivax. My Queen has requested that I aid you in this, so it is my duty to do so. Now, I can see that this young girl has been crying. Taretha, was it? What seems to be the problem?”
The girl had been silent from the moment that Krasus had teleported into the clearing, but didn’t hesitate to share her complaints once prompted while Thrall looked embarrassed about the whole thing. When she was done, Krivax helpfully summarized the issue, with Taretha interjecting occasionally. Krasus listened attentively, a thoughtful expression on his face.
“I’m afraid that I’ll have to agree with Vizier Krivax, young lady. It would be both immoral and irresponsible of us to take you from your parents and send you to live with the Frostwolf Clan,” Krasus said firmly yet kindly. Before Taretha could protest, he continued. “However, I believe I have a solution that might satisfy all parties involved. I can arrange for you to study in Dalaran, either as an apprentice mage or as a scholar. So long as Thrall is given a scrying tool, this would give the two of you the opportunity to communicate regularly and maintain your bond, even if you are not physically together.”
Taretha’s eyes lit up with hope and she looked to Thrall, who seemed similarly excited by the proposal. “Really? You can do that?” she asked Krasus.
“Doing this much is simple for someone like me. I doubt your mother will object once I offer to pay for the costs involved,” Krasus assured her with a warm smile. “However, you must promise to work hard and not let this opportunity go to waste. Studying in Dalaran is a privilege that not everyone is granted. Do you understand?”
Taretha nodded vigorously with determination clear in her eyes. “I promise! I promise! I’ll work really hard and become a super powerful mage like you. Then I’ll be able to see Thrall whenever I want! Did you hear that brother? I’m going to study in Dalaran!”
Thrall smiled softly and nodded, his eyes glistening with happiness. “I heard, sister. You’re going to be an amazing mage.”
Krivax let out a sigh of relief and nodded in gratitude to the Archmage. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was the best one available to them given the circumstances.
With the matter settled, Krasus offered to return Taretha back to her home via teleportation. After the dragon promised that he would visit the girl’s mother in the morning to deliver his offer, Taretha turned to Thrall and hugged him tight with tears in her eyes. Krivax watched as the two siblings said their goodbyes, promising to stay in touch and never forget each other. It was a heartwarming scene, and Krivax hoped that they would one day be able to live in a world that didn’t force them to be separated.
As Krasus disappeared with Taretha in a flash of light, Krivax turned to Thrall, who was wiping tears from his eyes.
“Are you okay, kid?” Krivax asked gently.
Thrall took a deep breath and nodded, speaking only once he managed to compose himself. “Yes, I am. I don’t know why you and the Archmage are being so nice to me, but I’m really thankful. I know Taretha has always wanted to go somewhere where she could learn, so she will be just as happy as I am. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to make it up to you, but I’m going to get strong so I can try, Master Krivax!”
Feeling a bit uncomfortable being referred to that way by the little child of destiny, Krivax quickly corrected him. “Just call me by my name, kid. Or use Vizier if you need a title. If you want to repay me, then just do your best to learn from your people and become someone kind and honorable.”
Krivax dearly hoped that all the changes he had made would still result in Thrall being the charismatic and fair orc leader he had been in the original timeline. There weren’t many good alternatives if someone didn’t rise to lead the orcs away from their current path. It felt bad to place that burden on the shoulders of such a nice kid… but the simple truth was that Azeroth needed heroes.
“I understand, Vizier Krivax. On my honor, I will learn everything I can from the Frostwolf Clan,” Thrall said with far more seriousness than a child should be able to muster.
I sure hope so, kid…
Krivax and Thrall waited in comfortable silence for the next several minutes until Krasus suddenly reappeared in the clearing, ready to take them to Alterac Valley.
“Excuse me, but are we going to travel there through magic?” Thrall asked as he fidgeted in place nervously. “I’ve never teleported before. Does it hurt?”
“Unfortunately, I lack the ability to teleport to places I have never been to before, so we will have to travel there a different way,” said Krasus, an amused smirk growing on his face as he looked at the young orc. “Tell me, Thrall. Were you taught anything about dragons?”
Thrall frowned in confusion before slowly shaking his head. “I’ve heard the word ‘dragon’ before, but I don’t know what they are. My teacher didn’t get that part in the books yet.”
“Then you’re in for a bit of surprise, young one. I happen to be a dragon, which means I should be able to carry both you and Vizier Krivax to meet the Frostwolf Clan,” said Archmage Krasus, immediately shedding his mortal guise as soon as he was done speaking.
Krivax laughed when Thrall scrambled back in fear and tripped over his own feet as he let loose an instinctual roar of challenge at the giant fire-breathing dragon. Archmage Krasus seemed to find it funny as well if his amused chuffs were any indication. Thrall quickly seemed to realize that he wasn’t in any danger because he soon calmed down and stared at Krasus with a mixture of awe and embarrassment.
Krivax made a mental note to remind Thrall of this moment in the future whenever the kid became the most powerful shaman on Azeroth.
“That was quite the reaction, kid. You don’t need to worry though, he isn’t going to hurt you,” Krivax reassured Thrall, trying to suppress his laughter. “Dragons are powerful beings that often take on mortal forms. In his true form, Archmage Krasus can fly through the sky at incredible speeds, and he’s large enough that he shouldn’t have any problem carrying the both of us to Alterac Valley.”
Krivax was grateful that Krasus was larger than most dragons as he wouldn’t have been able to comfortably carry the two of them otherwise. Nerubian Viziers were already quite large, and he had grown bigger than pretty much all of them after his empowerment. Being nearly fourteen feet tall and having limbs thicker than any in his caste meant that he was quite a bit heavier as well.
Krasus lowered himself onto the ground so that Krivax and Thrall could climb onto his back more easily. “Hold on tight, young Thrall, and do not worry. I will ensure your journey is as smooth and comfortable as possible,” Krasus said, his voice resonating deeply in his dragon form.
Thrall hesitated for a moment before nodding and climbing onto Krasus’ back, gripping his scales tightly. Krivax followed suit, making sure to secure himself and Thrall with a web of silk he conjured. It was better to be safe than sorry when traveling via dragon.
With a powerful beat of his wings, Krasus lifted off the ground, carrying Krivax and Thrall into the sky. The kid let out a yelp of surprise but quickly settled down when Krivax placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him, his initial fear being replaced by awe as they soared above the Hillsbrad Foothills. He wasn’t the only one, as Krivax found himself marveling at the experience as well.
He had dreamt about getting the chance to fly on the back of a dragon from the moment he’d been reborn on Azeroth, and it was just as exhilarating as he’d expected. The wind rushed past them as Thrall let out a whoop of joy and Krivax admired the landscape beneath them. Much of the land was still scarred by the events of the Second War, especially in the area the Horde made landfall, but the rest carried a great natural beauty. With his recently enhanced vision, Krivax could clearly see the patchwork of farmlands, meadows, and forests that made up the landscape.
As they flew high and faster, the temperature began to drop, prompting Krivax to create a heating ward around himself and Thrall. He was quite a bit more resistant to the heat after his transformation, but that protection didn’t extend to the cold.
They continued their flight, the landscape changing beneath them as they entered the harsh terrain of the Alterac Mountains. Snow-capped peaks loomed all around, and the air grew even colder as they approached the valley settled by the Frostwolf Clan. It took some time for them to find the right place, but Krasus eventually spotted a fur-clad orc herding a few goats in the distance, signaling that they were close.
Krivax noticed Thrall shifting nervously when Krasus informed them of what he had seen.
“Are you alright, Thrall?” Krivax asked, concerned by the young orc’s sudden anxiety.
Thrall looked at Krivax, his eyes wide with uncertainty, “I… I’ve never met another orc before, Vizier Krivax. I don’t know what to expect. What if they don’t accept me because I’m too… different?”
Krivax patted the young orc’s shoulder reassuringly. “From what we’ve been told by orc prisoners, the Frostwolf Clan is the most peaceful of the orc clans and puts a heavy emphasis on family and community. I doubt that they’ll turn away a young orc, no matter how different they are.”
Thrall still seemed a bit skeptical, but some of the tension in his expression began to fade away. Satisfied that the kid was reassured, Krivax turned his attention to Krasus, who had been patiently watching their exchange. “I think we’re ready for you to announce our presence to the Frostwolf Clan, Archmage Krasus.”
Krasus nodded and turned back toward the valley. Moments later, the dragon inhaled deeply before letting loose a bellowing roar that echoed throughout Alterac Valley. Krivax could see everything from rabbits to the native frost wolves scattering in fright at the sound. But most importantly, the fur-clad orc that they had spotted earlier looked up at them in shock and started running deeper into the valley, presumably toward the main orc encampment.
“Why did Archmage Krasus do that?” Thrall asked, a bit shaken by the dragon’s roar.
The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“It was to get the attention of the Frostwolf Clan,” Krivax explained. “It would be best if we allowed them to approach us, instead of flying directly into their village. This way, they’ll understand that we haven’t come to their home with bad intentions. It’s always better to avoid a fight if you can find a reasonable alternative, Thrall.”
The young orc nodded with uncertainty, but he seemed to be taking Krivax’s words to heart.
Now that the Frostwolf Clan had been alerted to their presence, Krasus found an empty clearing for them to land and await the arrival of the orcs. It took nearly twenty minutes before Krivax spotted a dozen orcs riding giant white wolves cautiously approaching their position. He could sense even more orcs hiding in the distance, so this group was likely a vanguard meant to assess the situation.
Once they drew near enough, he could tell that they were being led by a large gray-haired orc whose eyes were covered by a blue blindfold. The blindfold meant that the orc could only be Drek’Thar, leader of the Frostwolf Clan, and the orc who taught Thrall shamanism in the original timeline, and hopefully in this one as well. Despite his age and apparent blindness, the orc still looked quite strong and exuded the presence of a powerful shaman.
As the group of orcs came to a stop a safe distance away, Drek’Thar gestured for the rest of them to hold their positions. Many of the orcs grew agitated once they spotted Thrall standing next to Krivax, but nobody dared to make a move without their Chieftain’s permission. The elder orc directed his mount forward, closing the distance between him and the trio.
“Well met, strangers,” Drek’Thar called out in a deep, resonant voice. “I am Drek’Thar, Chieftain of the Frostwolf Clan. We believed our presence in this valley to be hidden from any outside our clan, yet you called for us in such an… unconventional manner. State your intentions, and why you have brought this young one with you.”
Krivax stepped forward and bowed respectfully toward the old shaman, “Greetings, Chieftain Drek’Thar. I am Vizier Krivax of Azjol-Nerub and this is Archmage Krasus of Dalaran and the Red Dragonflight. We come in peace and seek refuge for this young orc who we’ve rescued from a human noble. His name is Thrall, and we believe that he would be safer living among his own people.”
The Chieftain’s expression remained stoic as he listened to Krivax’s words. “You would aid an orc child so soon after the war? That is difficult for me to believe. What is so special about this young orc compared to the many you have imprisoned in camps? Also, how did you learn of us?”
“This orc didn’t participate in the Horde’s atrocities. Unlike those imprisoned in the camps, he is innocent,” said Krasus, interjecting before Krivax could respond. “As for your clan’s location, I spotted you all while flying through these mountains several months ago. So long as you don’t harm the people of these lands, I see no reason to inform anyone of your presence.”
Drek’Thar hummed thoughtfully and studied Krasus and Krivax carefully, his gaze seeming to pierce through them despite his lack of sight. After a moment, he let out a sigh and turned his attention to Thrall. “What say you, young one? You have been very quiet. Do you wish to join the Frostwolf Clan?”
Thrall hesitated for a moment, glancing at Krivax and Krasus before speaking up. “I… I do, Chieftain Drek’Thar. I’ve never known my people, and I want to learn more about them and where I came from.”
Drek’Thar studied Thrall for a moment before furrowing his brows. “How old are you, child? How did you come to live with humans before the end of the war?”
“I… don’t know. It was always that way,” said Thrall.
“According to what we know, Thrall was found as an infant among the corpses of several other orcs in the northern part of Loch Modan nearly seven years ago, carrying only this,” said Krivax, nudging Thrall to show them his swaddling cloth and hoping that it would be enough for Drek’Thar to understand Thrall’s true origins.
The small brown rag was one of the only things that Thrall truly owned and had the emblem of the Frostwolf Clan sewn onto its surface.
An expression of shock passed through the old shaman’s face and he instantly focused on Thrall with an intensity that clearly unnerved the boy. “Nearly seven years… could it truly be? Go’el? Is that you?”
A furor broke out among the orc warriors at the Chieftain’s words, even as Thrall grew visibly confused.
“Chieftain Drek’Thar, I think Thrall would like an explanation for your reactions,” Krivax said diplomatically, trying to calm down the situation before it got out of hand. “Archmage Krasus and I would like one as well.”
Likely guessing that Krivax already knew everything about what was going on as a ‘seer,’ Krasus snorted in amusement but did nothing else.
Drek’Thar took a deep breath and nodded. “I apologize. You are correct, outsider. The tale that I am about to tell you is one known to all Frostwolves…”
Krivax listened as Drek’Thar told the tragic tale of Durotan, the former Chieftain of the Frostwolf Clan, and his wife Draka. He listened as he was told about how Durotan and Draka realized that Fel magic had thoroughly corrupted their people when their son was born with green skin instead of the natural brown they once had. He listened as Drek’Thar spoke with heavy emotion about the moment that the two of them left with their infant son, intending to meet with Orgrim Doomhammer and show him the effect of Fel magic on young Thrall, only to never return.
It was clear to Krivax that the Frostwolf Clan respected their former Chieftain and his mate a great deal as he watched them step forward and excitedly greet their overwhelmed son. Once it became clear that Thrall was in good hands, Krasus turned to Krivax and created a privacy ward around the two of them.
“Has this gone as well as you had hoped, seer?” Krasus asked curiously.
“Yes, I suppose it has,” Krivax said after a moment of hesitation, unused to openly talking about his plans. “Taretha was an unexpected factor, but everything else went well. Thank you for the help with that by the way. I don’t know how it will change things for the two of them to remain in contact, but I hope it’s for the better.”
“As I said, your gratitude is unnecessary. This is simply my duty,” said Krasus, glancing toward Thrall with a glimmer of fondness in his eyes. “He seems like a good young orc. I hope he’s truly able to lead the orcs to a brighter future as you predicted. Although, I doubt that there will ever be any true reconciliation between them and the other mortal races in this generation.”
Privately, Krivax thought the hope for that was bleak as well, but it wasn’t impossible so long as the orcs truly fought to protect Azeroth from the many dangers coming its way. Fighting for survival against existential threats had a way of bringing people together.
“I’m hoping that the night elves will allow the orcs to be resettled on Kalimdor once they are no longer corrupted by Fel magics. Ysera said that she is going to speak with the night elf leadership about… several important matters, but who knows what will come of it,” said Krivax.
While Krivax wished that the orcs would be able to simply integrate peacefully into the Eastern Kingdoms, he knew that history and logistics made that an incredibly tall order. He didn’t know for certain, but there was a good chance that there were even more in the internment camps than in the original timeline. Alexstrasza had perhaps done too good of a job convincing the Horde to surrender through overwhelming force, and the dragons had quickly taken control of the Dark Portal.
This meant that the war finished earlier than it otherwise would have, and there were fewer orcs who succeeded in fleeing back to Draenor.
The Eastern Kingdoms couldn’t support so many orcs forever without something breaking, and Krivax didn’t want to see that happen. The optimal result would be for them to be cured of their corruption and sent somewhere else. Thankfully, Azjol-Nerub had every intention of organizing an expedition to Kalimdor, which Krivax would be participating in as the Head Diplomat. The High King primarily cared about establishing an outpost to monitor Ahn’Qiraj, but Krivax wanted to use this opportunity to get a better understanding of the night elves.
Ysera was held in high esteem by the night elves and was personal friends with their leadership, but she wasn’t their leader. Any decision made by the Kaldorei in regard to orc presence on Kalimdor would be made by Cenarius and High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind.
Forcing the orcs back to Draenor would be an acceptable alternative, if not for the worry that they would simply reform the Horde and invade Azeroth once again.
Also, Malygos was wholly convinced that the world must be secretly covered in shapeshifting demons…
While Krivax could not confirm the hunch based on his metaknowledge, Gul’dan had free rein for years to summon as many demons as he wanted to Draenor under the Burning Legion’s guidance.
“Speaking of future plans, how long will it be until you travel to Draenor?” Krivax asked curiously.
The Aspects had decided that they would handle anything important related to Draenor, including the evacuation of any non-hostile refugees. That would mostly be the Draenei, but it was possible that other groups had survived the Horde’s rampant genocides. Malygos insisted that they not risk any of the Aspects going to Draenor until they better understood the extent of the Burning Legion’s presence on the world. So, the duty had fallen to Krasus.
The Archmages’ expression immediately grew serious at his question and his voice was solemn when he answered. “Preparations should be complete within the month. If these ‘draenei’ truly have the history with the Burning Legion that you foresaw, then bringing them to Azeroth is imperative to Azeroth’s future. Any information they might have would be invaluable. Not to mention the benefits if we successfully rescue multiple Naaru of all things.”
Krivax couldn’t agree more. There were many things about the Burning Legion and its capabilities that he didn’t know, and it was important to verify his metaknowledge with a direct source.
The two of them continued discussing their plans for the future until the Frostwolf Clan was done greeting their newest member. Krivax was glad to see that Thrall seemed much more comfortable now than when they had first arrived and was even smiling as he conversed with his new family. Drek’Thar approached Krivax and Krasus and offered his thanks for bringing Thrall to them.
“You have done our clan a great service, outsiders. We had believed that Go’el was lost to us completely when the Chieftain and his mate failed to return. The Frostwolf Clan will repay what you have done for us this day,” the elder shaman said earnestly.
Krivax inclined his head in acknowledgment. “All we ask is that you live in these lands peacefully and avoid conflict to the best of your ability. Also, I hope that you will keep that kid safe and teach him well. He’s had a rough life so far. If you do that, then that is more than enough repayment for us.”
Drek’Thar nodded solemnly. “There was a time when I agreed with the Horde, but that time is long past. I regret ever involving myself with what they did on Draenor, and intend to lead my clan down a different path. Go’el is family. He will be treated as such and taught our ways. I haven’t spoken to him for long, but I can already sense great potential within him.”
Satisfied with Drek’Thar’s assurances, Krivax and Krasus discussed a few more matters with the Chieftain before saying their goodbye to Thrall. As he made his way closer to the Archmage, Krivax took one last look at the smiling young orc who was waving at them enthusiastically.
“Take care of yourself, Thrall, and remember your promise. I have faith that you’ll go on to do great things,” Krivax called out.
With that, Krasus began casting the teleportation spell that would return them to Azjol-Nerub’s settlement in Alterac. Krivax needed to return to his sleeping chambers before one of his guards realized that he was gone.
As he disappeared from Alterac Valley in a flash of light, Krivax couldn’t help but wonder what kind of man Thrall would grow into now…
----------------------------------------
Malygos was in an irritable mood as he flew away from Wyrmrest Temple. He’d spent far too much time with his siblings recently, and they were beginning to grate on his nerves.
If Malygos had to pretend not to see Alexstrasza’s worried glances one more time, a portion of Wyrmrest Temple would soon need to be rebuilt. Unfortunately, there were several matters that required their collective attention, including the handling of Neltharion’s corpse.
The first few days after the traitor's death had been dedicated to warding a section of the temple in which they could safely store his body. Malygos dearly wished that he lived in a world that didn’t contain necromancers or one in which Neltharion’s soul was weak enough for him to obliterate. It would make things so much easier.
As it was, the traitor's body proved incredibly resilient to damage even in death, and nobody wanted to take any risks. Especially not with that troublesome ‘Lich King’ who the little prophet mentioned arriving on Azeroth in the near future. Any being capable of raising and controlling such a large number of undead was a threat even from the perspective of the Aspects. It would be potentially catastrophic if they allowed the necromancer to gain possession of a corpse as dangerous as Neltharion’s.
Of course, this meant that they had to figure out what to do with all of the countless dragon corpses scattered throughout the Dragonblight. What the Horde did was infuriating enough, but the thought of the Lich King desecrating the final resting place of so many dragons filled Malygos with cold fury.
These concerns were the reason why Malygos was finally about to do what he had meant to do since he had spoken to the little prophet. He knew that he should have buried Sindragosa the very next day… but the truth of the matter was that Malygos was afraid. Although she was in no state to do so, it still felt as if Sindragosa would open her eyes and see Malygos for the failure he knew himself to be.
How could he bring himself to face her when it was his fault that the Aspects had imbued their power into the Dragon Soul? When he had failed to see Neltharion’s corruption before nearly his entire Flight was cut down in a single moment? When he had spent the past ten millennia doing nothing as the few surviving members of his Flight scattered and struggled to fulfill their duties throughout Azeroth, helpless and alone?
Malygos could feel the same gloom he’d grown familiar with over the millennia begin to shroud his mind, but he forced himself to move forward. A large part of him wanted to teleport back to his lair and sleep for the next decade, but Sindragosa deserved better than that. She deserved to be buried with the rest of her people.
Holding these thoughts in mind, Malygos swept toward the region of Northrend that the mortals referred to as Icecrown. It was here that the little prophet claimed he could find Sindragosa, buried beneath the ice of a massive glacier. When he eventually reached Icecrown, Malygos flew through the region for nearly an hour and used his magic to search every large glacier he came across. Blue dragons were intensely magical creatures, and their very bones would remain imbued with arcane energy long after they had passed.
Many members of his Flight must have been thrown to Icecrown when Neltharion turned the Dragon Soul on them because Malygos discovered a half dozen blue dragon corpses within that time. Vowing to himself that he would return to give them proper burials as well, Malygos solemnly continued his search for Sindragosa. Each new discovery was like a fresh blade to the heart as the Aspect of Magic remembered members of his Flight who he hadn’t thought about since the War of the Ancients. The weight of his failures grew stronger with each passing moment, but Malygos resolved to continue until his duty was done.
Finally, after hours of searching, Malygos found the glacier that the little prophet had mentioned. He could sense Sindragosa’s presence deep within the ice, and the familiar pang of loss and guilt washed over him once more.
Carefully, Malygos wove arcane energy into the ice surrounding her body and took hold of it with a telekinetic grasp. After casting a spell to reinforce the ice encasing Sindragosa, he slowly lifted her upward until she emerged from the glacier with a resounding crack that sent shards of ice flying through the air.
As he carefully set her down and witnessed what had become of the first person he had ever loved, Malygos couldn’t help but let out a raw, anguished cry. Much of her once-majestic form was marred by wounds while the rest had become desiccated and frail over the millennia. Even so, Malygos could still see the fierce and beautiful dragon that she had been in life.
“Oh, Sindri. You would have hated to see yourself like this,” said Malygos, his voice thick with grief as he looked upon her ravaged form. “I… I am so sorry that it took me so long to arrive, my love.”
Sindragosa had always taken great pride in her beauty, as she should have. Whenever they fought and Malygos wished to regain her favor, he would find a beautiful piece of jewelry for her mortal form or a new elixir to enhance the allure of her scales.
He could remember one occasion when he had tried to create a magical adornment for Sindragosa’s horns, one enchanted with a spell that would make them shine with an ethereal glow. However, the enchantment had conflicted with one of her other pieces of jewelry and the spell had gone awry, causing Sindragosa’s horns to emit an incessant, high-pitched squeaking noise whenever she moved her head.
Despite the heaviness in his heart, Malygos couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle as he recalled the moment of Sindragosa’s majestic demeanor being shattered by the absurd sound. The memory brought forth a bittersweet warmth, a moment of joy that they had shared together amidst their often serious lives.
It wasn’t long before his chuckles began to waver, and Malygos soon found his laughter turning into quiet sobs. Tears flowed down his face, turning into small crystals of arcane magic as they made contact with the ground.
“My love, I miss you so much. Azeroth is not the same without you,” said Malygos, his voice wet and he spoke through his tears. “I truly don’t know how I’m supposed to continue without you, Sindri. It was always you who reined in my worst impulses. It was you who confronted me when I was being stubborn or cruel, and now you’re gone.”
Malygos had no delusions about what kind of person he was. When the little prophet had told him what he would have done, there hadn’t been the slightest doubt within Malygos that he could have gone down that path. He knew that he could be cruel, arrogant, and oftentimes apathetic to the suffering of others.
But… it hadn’t always been that way. There was a time when the worst parts of him could be tempered by those around him, but those people were now gone. They were either killed by Neltharion or pushed away by Malygos himself.
“If you were to hear what the little prophet saw of our future, you would surely be shocked and appalled, my love,” said Malygos, chuckling sadly as he imagined her reaction. “You would castigate me for my foolishness before working with me to create a plan capable of saving this rotten world. The other Aspects and I are trying to do so now, but it would be so much easier if you were here. You were always so good at noticing the things I overlooked.”
Malygos sighed heavily as he considered the world that could have been. One in which he faced the future with Sindragosa and his family by his side.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to go on without you, my love, but… I’m going to try. My Flight has suffered enough without being forced to see me go mad and turn against Azeroth,” Malygos vowed quietly, surprising even himself with the conviction in his voice.
It had been a long time since Malygos had cared about Azeroth or his duties, but he knew that he couldn’t allow the world to fall into further chaos. He owed it to Sindragosa and the rest of his fallen kin to at least make an effort at doing better… being better.