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Dawn of the Dragon	By : RotSeele Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 3875 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft. I do not make any money from this story.

Chapter List
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Twenty-Two
Wrathion slowly came to, staring blearily up at a golden sky that most certainly didn't belong on Azeroth. Then his memory slowly returned, and he remembered he wasn't on Azeroth but Outland, trying to find the last remnants of his race, and hoping there was one who was like him - untouched by Deathwing's madness. Of course, that was easier said than done. There was no one in the world like him - he'd made sure if that by making himself the last living, sane black dragon alive. He didn't doubt that some of the clever ones had managed to elude him, but it was only a matter of time before they screwed up and drew attention to themselves.
Why am I thinking that way? I don't want to be alone. I love my friends, but it's not the same. It's not the same as being among your own kind. Does anyone realize how lonely it is to be the only one left?
The thought uncorked the seal he kept on his emotions. He thought he felt tears running down his face, but he couldn't move to wipe them away. In fact, he found he couldn't move at all. He wanted to open his eyes, but his body wouldn't obey. Why? Why wouldn't it do as he asked?
After a lengthy struggle, Wrathion managed to open his eyes. What he saw devastated him. Stretching for miles below him was a sea of fire and molten earth. It streamed steadily out of great rifts in the ground, rifts that were larger than the one separating the Northern and Southern Barrens. He could see smoldering remains of villages, crumbling to nothingness under the fury of the earth.
No, not villages. He realized, alarmed. That's Orgrimmar.
The once proud city of iron, the main city of the Horde, lay in molten ruins. The towers that had guarded the heart of the city were rent, as though a giant claw had scraped them clean through from top to bottom. The gates hung shattered, the streets were clogged with molten rock, and even the zeppelin towers smoldered, mere lumps of stone.
"What happened?" Wrathion gasped.
He started almost immediately. His voice sounded wrong even to his own ears. It sounded deeper, older. It sounded like his father's. He managed to angle his head to look at his body. Black adult scales flowed down his sides and legs, his adult frill sheeting down his neck and chest. Chains were wrapped around his front claws up to his elbows. Some links were partially melted into his scales. Fear gripped him. He swung his tail into view; more chains. He spread his wings and felt chains pull along his back.
"Is it not grand?"
Wrathion craned his neck back to locate the source of the voice. When he found it, he wanted to throw himself from the precipice he clung to, and fly away as fast as he could. But now, his body betrayed him.
Sitting astride his back was Go’el. But it really wasn't the Earth Warder. It was some grotesque mimicry of the shaman. Go’el’s skin was blackened and cracked, with molten blood seeping through. Steam rose from the places the blood actually touched air. His clothes, the simple cloth robes, were tatters stained with blood and ash, and the Doomhammer was gashed from head to pommel from what looked like a thousand battles. It too was stained with blood and ash. Go’el’s eyes were the worst. No longer the beloved blue that had made him something special, they were now pools of molten rage and hatred, just like Deathwing's had been.
Wrathion wanted to say something, but now his voice betrayed him. Instead, he let out a hiss that was primal, a sound that only an unthinking beast would make.
"Easy now, Wrathion." Go’el said soothingly. "There's yet more cities to be brought to heel like Orgrimmar. Thunder Bluff is next, so say our masters."
No! Wrathion wanted to cry. No! This isn't right! I don't want this! I don't want any of this! This is not what I'm supposed to be! This isn't what anything is supposed to be! Where was Anduin? Where was Shandris? Where was Karidormi? This is a dream. It has to be a dream.
Wrathion felt his wings spread and his muscles coil before he sprang into the air, flying over what was once Durotar. Now he could see a vast army, both Orc and elemental, and he knew that army wasn't a defending one. There, at its head, astride a massive slavering worg was someone Wrathion had hoped would have nothing to do with the workings of Azeroth anymore - Garrosh. The Mag'har Orc held aloft Gorehowl, his black tinted jaw opening and closing in rapid succession, spitting out words. A roar rose from the army, agreement as much as a sign of fealty. Wrathion noticed that there were no trolls or Tauren, no blood elves or goblins, no Forsaken or Pandaren. The army was solely made up of orcs. Then Garrosh made a wild gesture, pointing Gorehowl right at Wrathion's chest as the dragon soared over the army. Another roar rose from the troops, this one of confidence of an assured win. Wrathion realized that he was Garrosh's weapon. He was the one who had burned Orgrimmar to the ground, the one who would burn Thunder Bluff. He was the one who would bring death and destruction to the one place he wanted to protect above all else in the world.
Wrathion.
Wrathion shook his head, or tried to. An answering roar escaped his maw, spilling magma like spittle across the earth below. He struggled to escape this nightmare, but couldn't free himself. He wanted to wake up. He didn't want to see himself destroy Thunder Bluff or anywhere else.
Wrathion!
Why was this happening? Was it because of what he'd done? What he'd tried to do? Why hadn't he listened to Anduin when the blond prince had told him not to mess with things like the heart of the Thunder King? What if he wasn't ready to handle the powers he'd absorbed from it? What if it was those powers that caused him to become this monstrosity? Fear gripped him in its cold, tight claws. He fought against it, struggling like he'd never struggled before. Even when he was plotting his escape from the red Dragonflight, he'd never been as terrified as he was right now. Wrathion struggled all the harder, watching through his own eyes as the world sped away toward the green expanse of Mulgore and Thunder Bluff.
Wrathion! Can you hear me?
Wrathion jerked mentally, struggling to latch onto that voice. He recognized it; it was Karidormi. It made sense, a part of him said. She was a bronze dragon; if he was lost in time, she would be able to reach him. He fought to respond, but found he couldn't. Anger pushed away the fear. There was no way that he would fail at this. There was no way he would succumb to this kind of future self. He tried to respond to Karidormi, and must've succeeded somehow because he felt something grip his claw. He wanted to look down, because it felt like a paw much larger than his own. He felt something wrap itself around him, giving him strength.
Wrathion let out a shrill roar that echoed over the field he flew over, and echoed inside his own mind. He felt something twist and break inside him, and suddenly the world inverted, stretching out like it was swirling down an invisible drain. And suddenly...
Wrathion woke.
He was lying on his back, his little arms and legs in the air, much like a dog who wanted his belly rubbed. He'd reverted to his dragon form, he realized. He blinked slowly, trying to figure out what had happened. His last memory was of...
Well.
He didn't want to remember that.
Curled around him was a huge bronze paw, cocooning him in a small basket of scales. Wrathion angled his head and managed to see that Karidormi's paw was acting like a cage, preventing him from rolling or doing whatever else he'd been doing in his fit. Wrathion wriggled, then slowly assumed his human form. "You can let me go now."
Karidormi angled her head at him. Her eyes looked battle-worn. "Are you feeling okay?" Her voice was soft and tired.
"I'm whole." Wrathion said at last.
Karidormi took a breath. "You went down a timeway. It was all I could do to catch and anchor you. What did you see?"
Wrathion hesitated. "You didn't see anything?"
Karidormi shook her head. "What I saw... It was nothing short of destruction."
And I was the cause of that destruction. Wrathion thought. He stepped off her paw to the dusty ground, wobbled, then straightened. His body felt strange to him, like it wasn't entirely his. He wondered if that was a side-effect of what he'd just experienced. He watched as Karidormi assumed her elven form, then looked around, confused. "Where's everyone else?" He asked.
Karidormi frowned. "Shandris and Dashiell stayed behind to help Anduin and Shalya. I took you away from there so I could concentrate on you without interference."
Wrathion's red eyes went wide. "What did I do? What did I do to Anduin?"
Karidormi hesitated. "Your powers activated. I don't know how or why, but Anduin and Shalya are trapped in what looked like a landslide. Shandris and Dashiell are trying to get them out."
Wrathion shifted. "I should go and help them."
"What if you have another attack?"
Wrathion glowered at the older dragon. "So I'm just supposed to sit here and wait for my best friend to suffocate, is that it?"
"I didn't say that." Karidormi moved closer to him and reached to put a hand on his forehead. Wrathion watched her eyes shift in color, changing from green to gold-hued. He felt a power wrap around him, and realized she was trying to cast a spell on him. "I've anchored you to me." She said at last. "If you get pulled into the time ways again, I'll go with you this time, and I'll be able to guide you, if not pull you back."
Wrathion blinked. "You have that much power left?"
"It's not much, but it's all I can do." Karidormi stepped back and assumed her draconic form. She lowered her neck and allowed him to climb onto her back. "Just don't go shifting on me, and we'll be fine."
Wrathion hooked his toes beneath several scales that shifted, then clamped down on his boots to keep him in place. "It's not like I asked to change like that."
Karidormi gave him a long look, then lifted her wings and launched into the air, swinging them back toward the Bloodmaul Village and their friends.
"So, how much air do you think we have left?"
"Less now than before." Shalya eyed Anduin. "Are you feeling okay?"
Anduin shrugged. A bead of sweat rolled down his spine. "Oh, yeah. Nothing like having a ton of rocks pressing down on you."
Shalya's brow rose as she studied him. "Well, if you feel like you're going to pass out, let me know. I'll be glad to punch you."
"How is that supposed to help?" Anduin protested.
"Because you'll be too worried about me hitting you to pass out."
Anduin just gaped at her. He supposed he shouldn't feel surprised. Shalya wasn't the type of girl to just sit quietly and let things happen. She also wasn't the type of girl Anduin was used to (the adventurers he'd met didn't count) since those girls mostly adhered to the old adage of "ladies should be seen and not heard". For a moment, Anduin entertained himself with thoughts of what it would be like to let Shalya loose amongst the primped and preened noblewomen of Stormwind. He could almost imagine the chaos his father would have to deal with. He loved Varian, he really did, but sometimes his father just deserved to have a whole pile of problems drop into his lap that didn't belong to the Horde.
Shalya sat across from him, studying the shimmering shield of Light Anduin kept going through sheer will. She also studied the stones hanging suspended around them, and she studied Anduin. He wasn't that bad looking, if she had to be honest with herself. He had a strong, proud jaw probably inherited from his father, but it was tempered by soft blue eyes and golden hair that no doubt he got from his mother. It made Shalya feel just a little jealous, and that thought made her smile somewhat bitterly. Here she was, jealous of a boy. That he was human wasn't the issue; she was human too, at least by half. Her hair, though, was black and hung to her shoulders when she didn't have it pulled back. It was the typical color of Orc hair, not something beautiful like blonde, or Draenei white.
She'd never really thought about her appearance before. She had been raised as a Mag'har, taught to be a warrior and a hunter. That she was female never bothered her grandfather. He simply taught her as he would any child. She'd had friends, the few children that there were in Garadar, but she'd never thought of them as anything more. She'd never thought there could be anything more for her. She was a product of three races, neither really one or the other, so what hope did she have of finding a mate who wouldn't balk at his children being more Orc than human or Draenei, or more human than Orc or whatever? So, she'd distanced herself from those kinds of attachments, making it through sixteen years on her own with only her grandfather's love.
Until Anduin.
He wasn't like most humans. He had a genuine curiosity about him, and a gentleness that seemed to go down to his very core. And he wasn't exactly subtle about his attraction toward her. And Shalya herself wasn't exactly sure if she was giving some kind of signal that kept him focused on her, or if she was attracted back. He was a curiosity to her.
And, okay, maybe she did kind of like him.
But he was a Prince and she was just... Shalya. She wasn't even in his league, and even if he asked her out, how long could she last being hounded by human females who were obviously much more eligible than she? Shalya felt a flush creep into her cheeks. Never before had she thought about her looks, especially when comparing herself to a purebred human girl. She was pretty; she got her looks from her mother, a human, so her grandfather had said. Shalya remembered very little about her mother. She knew simple things, like her mother's race, but as for knowing the actual woman...
Shalya wondered, not for the first time, if her mother would be proud of her in this moment.
"Hey, Shalya?"
"Hm?"
Anduin shifted, scooting closer to her until they were sitting beside one another. "Do you think they're out there?"
"Do you want me to lie to you?"
Anduin stared at her. Then he shrugged. "Why not. I mean, here we are, trapped in a landslide with only my will and connection to the Light to keep us safe. Of course, that won't matter soon. We're running out of air, and when we do, hopefully we'll be dead when the rocks come down."
"Then, yes, Anduin, they're out there right now, trying to dig us out."
"You're a shitty liar."
"You asked." Shalya replied with a slight smile.
Anduin sighed and leaned forward, bracing his hands on his knees. He wasn't sure if they'd ever get out of here; it was looking more and more unlikely that they'd make it out alive. He wondered what Varian would think about this. His only son goes off on another adventure, not telling anyone, and ends up dead because his best friend had another fit and lost control of his powers. Perfect poetic justice. Anduin sighed heavily. "This is perfect. Here we are, trying to save the world, and it's trying to kill us."
"No one ever said being a hero was easy."
Anduin lifted his head to look at Shalya. She was watching him, her eyes luminous in the golden glow of Light. Anduin found his cheeks growing hot, and he quickly looked away from her. "I guess not."
"So, what's the one thing you wanted to do most before you died?"
"I dunno. Be a normal teenager?"
Shalya laughed. "What's that like? You should know that there's no such thing as being a normal teenager for people who are what we are."
"What, a boy and girl?"
"A Prince and a half-breed."
"You're not really a half-breed you know. Just a third of three races."
"Whatever."
Anduin snorted. He looked at Shalya with the intent of saying something smart-ass, but instead found that she had drawn her legs up to her chest, her chin on her knees, like she was resigned to her fate. Hesitantly, Anduin shifted closer, then put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him. She resisted, but at least she didn't punch him to get him to let her go. Anduin held on, though, always waiting for that punch. Instead, Shalya relaxed and let him hold her. Feeling brave, Anduin said, "There's one other thing I wanted to do before I died, if you'll let me."
Shalya just looked at him.
With shaking fingers, Anduin tilted Shalya's head until he could easily lean toward her. His lips lightly brushed hers, and when she didn't resist him, he started to deepen the kiss.
Then the rock around them started to shift and the two jumped apart. Wrathion pressed his face against Anduin's shield. "You two decent in there?"
Anduin snarled, his face beet red. "Shut up and get us out of here."
"Your wish is my command, oh Prince of Stormwind."
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Dawn of the Dragon