Night of the Dragon

capable of swallowing a dozen raptors in a single gulp. At the front of the mouth, monstrous fangs twice as long as the other teeth gave the twilight dragon an even more nightmarish 'smile.' Atop his head, curled horns that thrust back, vied with wicked barbs and spikes that descended down the skull and neck and then seemed to explode in incredible number all over the rest of Dargonax's humongous form. Each time the twilight dragon breathed, he also seemed to swell a little more. His pupilless orbs, larger than a giant's shield, reflected the puny robed figure about to die.

'No, my Dargonax!' commanded Sinestra, her tone showing no concern for the behemoth's victim. 'Not... yet...'

He drew back. His body pulsated, shimmered. He looked at the black dragon. 'But, Mother... you do not command me, anymore....'

The gargantuan beast started to lunge again—and suddenly pain wracked his body. He twisted and turned, but could not escape it. It felt as if his body were about to rip into a million tiny pieces....

'Now did I not warn you about behaving?' Deathwing's consort purred. 'Did you think that you had outgrown my control? You know that you can never escape what is within you....'

He could not answer, the agony too much for him to do anything but scream. He, the most monstrous of beasts, fell upon the chamber floor, writhing.

And a watching Rhonin, who knew the powers wielded by one of the Earth-Warder's flight, wondered just what spell she had cast, for it was not normal. Indeed, knowing there had been a familiar foulness about it, one that he had not felt since... since he had destroyed the Demon Soul during the fall of the orcs here.

The wizard's eyes widened. Since the Demon Soul...

As for the behemoth, he finally recovered enough to gaze at his creator and tormentor. 'You tricked me! You tricked me!' he managed. 'But I am stronger! Stronger! I am Dargonax! I am—'

He screamed once more, then stilled. His body continued to shimmer... its glow at one point almost perfectly matching that of the insidious creation of Deathwing.

'You are what I say you are....' Sinestra said with a mad smile. 'My loving child...'

Vereesa ran back into the chamber where Krasus hung. 'Did you hear that?'

'Yes, it has begun. She has unleashed doom upon all of us.'

'Great one—Krasus—is there anything I can do for you?'

The dragon mage managed to focus on her. She knew the truth, that he could see. There was no sense telling her otherwise. 'No...it is up to you and Kalec...'

At that moment, they both heard a groan from the other chamber. The high elf looked from Krasus to the sound and then back again. She appeared caught between conflicting desires.

'Go to—go to him—' The effort was too much. The red's world swam. Vereesa became a blur.

“I will return shortly!' she called to him. “I swear!'

But as she departed, Krasus began an accounting of his own life. He did not have long and he wanted to know if he had actually done much of worth to Azeroth or if he had merely been pursuing a vanity of his own. Would those who recalled him after he was gonethink of him with good thoughts... or curse his memory?

Yet, barely had he started when a light filled his eyes. A brilliant, soothing light that took away all of his agony.

So... there is no more time... I am already dying.

A voice called to him, then. There was a distinct familiarity to it and, since it was female, he chose it to be the one that meant the most to him.

'Alex-Alexstrasza?'

A figure formed in the light.

Vereesa rushed in among the eggs and molten pits, fearful that the blue's weakness had turned his condition for the worse. However, upon seeing Kalec, the ranger stopped short.

A bright illumination surrounded the younger dragon, but it differed from that of the chamber or of the Demon Soul near Krasus. It had a pleasant warmth that even Vereesa could feel, a warmth that reminded her of the rising sun.

Kalec murmured something. One hand reached up as if to caress an invisible figure leaning over him.

At the same time, the ranger heard a voice from where Krasus hung...a feminine voice.

Thinking that Sinestra had returned, Vereesa did not hesitate to rush back to the red dragon's aid. She knew very well the odds were against her, but did not care.

But when she entered, there was no sign of Deathwing's insidious consort. Indeed, there was at first no sign of the dragon mage, either. The stalactite hung perfectly clean, not even a trace of Krasus's life fluids clinging to it or pooling on the floor.

Confused, she turned around in search of him—

A powerful fist caught her in the chin. Vereesa spun about, then fell.

'Well, what a delight to see you, my dear cousin,' Zendarin growled. 'That makes two objectives still dealt with before I departthis madhouse....'

Stunned, Vereesa rolled onto her back. 'Where—what have you done with him?'

The blood elf glanced contemptuously at her. 'If you're referring to that mongrel creature you call a mate, I've done nothing with him, although since he's come to your ‘rescue,’ I imagine he'll soon end up in the gullet of her beast!' He swung the staff at her, the crystal point just barely grazing the ranger's thigh. Vereesa let out a howl and rolled farther away as if blown there by a fierce wind. 'I'll deal with you in a moment, cousin. I've something far more important than you awaiting me right here.'

Zendarin turned on the reconstituted Demon Soul. With the staff, he began drawing a circle of light around the dread artifact.

He meant to steal it, Vereesa saw. Steal it from his own ally. The ranger was tempted to let him do it without any trouble, for surely it would weaken Sinestra's efforts, but she had no idea what had happened to Krasus or whether she might, in the end, need the Soul to find or cure him... assuming that he was even alive. More to the point, surely nothing good could come of her cousin wielding the artifact.

If only there was some way to destroy it! But Vereesa believed Deathwing's consort when she said that nothing born of Azeroth could now affect the evil object.

Her gaze narrowed. But the same could not be said for Zendarin himself...

She gripped the tiny blade, waiting for the moment. As Zendarin finished his circle—and the glow of the Demon Soul grew muted— the high elf threw.

But something made her cousin turn at the last moment. He brought the staff between him and the soaring blade. Vereesa's missile deflected off the staff.

Zendarin hissed as the blade left a dripping crease along his left cheek. He aimed the staff at his cousin—

The ranger was already on the move. The blood elf's strike only decimated rock and dirt. He spun around to face her just as Vereesaleapt at him.

Zendarin had all the lithe grace of any of their kind, but he was no practiced ranger and, despite her recent shift to motherhood. Vereesa was still more than fit enough to be one of the best of her calling. She fell upon her cousin and the two struggled, the staff the only thing between them.

They crashed against the base of the Demon Soul's resting place. One side caved in, showering them a moment later with limestone and more. However, the artifact itself—still surrounded by the energy of the staff— remained exactly where it was even though it no longer rested on anything.

With a glare, Zendarin tried to send her hurtling away. However, Vereesa gripped the staff tight, the results being that both were spun around and around and around.

Again, they fell into each other, this time with the blood elf atop.

'You're weak!' he growled in her ear. 'A fading memory of a fading people! The high elves are gone... The blood elves are ascendant!'

'Do not dignify yourself by thinking that you are even worthy of being called a blood elf, much less the race you forsake for that foul role!' Vereesa retorted. 'I have faced others before you and they had more worth, more honor, than you! You are a thief, a murderer, and a parasite! Nothing more! All elven lines would reject you, just as I reject any blood tie between us!'

'How terrible for me! Spurned by my dear cousin who sleeps with animals...'