by Milton Garby
The flapping of draconic wings cut through his lazing. He didn't bother raising his head, but he did focus his eyes to see who was coming. His muscles tensed and phantom pains flared to life all across his body. It couldn't be her, could it?
Fortunately, it wasn't. His visitor was a red drake, just like him, instead of a twilight. Her hind claws were latched on to some bizarre animal. She flew into his cave and landed, tossing the dead creature to the side of the cave. She shook herself off and folded her wings. "Brr! So much water," she muttered in Draconic, looking herself up and down.
"Hello," he greeted. "What is that?" he asked, looking at the beast. At first glance it looked like a small brown bear, but instead of fur it was covered in small brown tendrils. It had three eyes, and its paws ended in stumps instead of claws.
"No idea!" she said. "Buuut..." she said, glancing at him and narrowing her eyes. "A little birdie told me that you weren't eating. Come on." She nudged the creature at him with her tail-club, letting him see the clean bite marks around its throat. "Eat up."
Derestrasz glanced at the creature, then back at her. "Listen, I appreciate the gesture but I am not hungry," he lied.
The other drake narrowed her eyes. "What kind of an idiot do you think I am?" Sarastrasza asked scathingly. "You haven't moved from that spot since I've last been here!"
"That's not true!" he protested. "I've done stretches."
"Stretches!" she squawked. "You've been drinking from this dinky little... rainwater stream," she said, swiping her claws at the trickle of water running through his cave. "When is the last time you've eaten? Hmm?" He looked away guiltily. "I knew it."
"I just don't have an appetite," he whispered like a scolded whelp. He sighed, but moved towards the creature anyway. "Are you sure it's safe to eat?"
Sarastrasza nodded. "Perfectly safe. Had one myself earlier. Eat, Derestrasz," she commanded.
He grimaced, but pulled himself over to the creature and sniffed. His stomach growled as the scent of fresh, still-warm meat flooded his nostrils. His wings shivered and his forelegs trembled. He dove his snout in and dug in with his fangs, tearing through the tentacle-fur and into the pinkish flesh beneath. It tasted strange, like a gryphon that had been poisoned with mercury, but if Sarastrasza said it was safe then he trusted her. But even beyond that, the warm blood going down his throat and chunks of meat filling his stomach were heavenly.
By the Titans, when was the last time he'd eaten?
Before long he'd eaten his fill and he pulled away, licking his muzzle clean of blood. There was still a lot of the animal left, but he'd eaten a giant crater into its body. He was warm and full, more so than he could remember ever being. "There you go," Sarastrasza crooned. "You need to take better care of yourself, Derestrasz. When's the last time you went out for a flight and stretched your wings?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. I just... don't feel like it," he grumbled, curling up tighter.
For a while, she didn't say anything. Eventually, though, she sighed and padded over to his side and sat on her haunches. "Listen. I know you went through some horrible things while the Old Gods were in charge. I know it's not easy to move past it, and you may never make a full recovery. But you'll never recover at all if you let yourself rot away! I'm not always going to be able to bring you meals, Derestrasz," she whispered.
"You weren't there," he muttered, closing his eyes. "She did so many things to me, to all of us. Everything under the sun and she did it with a smile. And you? You got to hide away with the Bronze and skip ahead to now." He opened his eyes and glared at her, raising his head. "You have no idea what it was like," he hissed, an ember of fury smoldering in his core.
"I know more than you think," Sarastrasza snapped. "Please, just come with me?" she said, extending a foreleg to him and tapping the black claws on the ground. "The new Aspects are being chosen soon, don't you want to vote in that? Or at least see it? This is a once in a lifetime event!"
"No," he said, looking away from her to inspect a fascinating spot of mica on the walls. "Aspects live far more interesting lives than I do. I'll probably outlive them."
"Not if you keep taking care of yourself like this," she said in disgust, puffing air through her nostrils. "Come on. You're going to go outside and you're going to fly unless you want your wings to rot off," she snapped, walking behind him. Without warning, Sarastrasza bit the midpoint of his tail.
Derestrasz roared and leaped to his paws, which shook as they had to support his full weight. "What the hell was that for?!" he roared.
"You know exactly what it was for," she replied, walking forward and forcing him back. Soon, his tail-club was forced out the entrance to his cave and the cool water began pouring on it. Not long after, Sarastrasza had backed him entirely into the rain.
He froze and looked up, then around. Above him, a smooth sheet of bright white clouds covered the sky, pouring a soothing, cleansing rain onto his scales. The cool water ran down his scarred body, taking with it some of the dirt and grime he'd let build up. Turning his gaze from the skies, Derestrasz took a good look around. The mountains of his home were bare of life this high up but also held no snow, and deep canyons were carved between them. It reminded him of a cooler Storm Peaks. The piles of rock formed wonderful forms as far as his eyes could see, darkened and shined by the rain that formed waterfalls down the slopes.
Derestrasz pivoted around and extended his wings. Immediately their webbing caught a gentle breeze and they snapped open to their full span, just in time for Sarastrasza to walk next to him. "See?" she asked. "You're looking better already."
He turned around, his blood racing with the desire to get out there and fly. But... something heavy clenched around his heart like cement. He sighed, relaxing his wings. "Maybe... maybe tomorrow. I still need to digest all that food, you know," he tried to explain.
Sarastrasza stared at him sadly, slit pupils going wide. "Derestrasz, please. I know you don't want to, but it'd... ah, nevermind." She shook her head and smiled at him, showing off her rows of fangs. "At least I got you out here. It's progress, right? Anyway, I just thought I'd check up on you, alright? Please, try to work on it even if I'm not here. You have a lot of people who care about you out there," she offered, extending her own wings and leaping. Sarastrasza caught the air and flew away.
Derestrasz sighed and started to turn around, but before he could Sarastrasza returned, beating her wings to hover in one spot. "Also... I know this might not sound reassuring, but I spoke with Turliona yesterday." Derestrasz's heart froze. She spoke with Turliona? "She feels really bad about what she did to you, you know. I know it'd be hard, but trust me when I say it'd do you both a lot of good to meet up and talk. Get some closure, even if you don't forgive her. You don't have to do it now but please, just think about it," she said. Then she swiveled around in the air and took off, this time leaving for real.
The red drake sighed and padded back into his den, shaking the water from his body. Turliona. Sarastrasza wanted him to meet her, the centerpiece of his nightmares. Bile rose in his throat at the mere thought of being anywhere near her. But Sarastrasza had supported him all the way ever since they'd met after the Lost Year. She only wanted what was best for him, maybe Derestrasz could trust her?
He didn't know. The dull weight on his heart still made any action at all excruciating. He barely had the strength to drag himself out of the rain before collapsing to the ground, closing his eyes to go to sleep. He'd need a lot of pushing to go meet up with the twilight drake that had tortured, exploited and abused him in all manner of ways for the Lost Year. It didn't matter she'd been corrupted. It had still happened and things would never, ever be the same. Still... maybe tomorrow he'd go for a flight. He'd ached for that freedom while imprisoned under the Old Gods' rule, maybe it was time to take advantage of that freedom.
Maybe tomorrow.
Maybe.
Sarastrasza
The strangest part was being able to use nature magic.
&n
bsp; Compared to going from a human body to an Old God, creating a flesh-and-blood red drake and taking control of it had taken no adjustment at all. Claws, wings, and all that? Easy. She'd even indulged in a storm drake body a few times while in power, so she had practice. But this wasn't an avatar made to look like a red drake, it was one and with that came control over nature magic.
Which was quite comfortable and warm now that it didn't make her want to vomit.
Sarastrasza soared high in the sky, staring down at Azeroth. The planet was locked into how it'd been when she'd retreated her body into a deep plane. There were small islands scattered around most of the sea, but there were three main continents. Unlike Northrend, Kalimdor and the Eastern Kingdoms, which were on opposite sides of the planet due to the Well of Eternity's rupturing, these continents were right next to each other, with only a few rivers and lakes keeping them from forming Pangaea on the equator.
Already, regular weather patterns were beginning to carve out their place. Rocky cliffs were crumbling into beaches. Forests in the wrong places were dying out, and animals migrated to where the ideal temperatures were. Tall mountains were slowly being snowed in, and short ones were thawing. It had only been a few months since the 'Lost Year' ended, and already the planet was stabilizing its new conditions. It made her sick, but the weather wasn't this new world's charm.
New towns were being set up. It was too early for any legitimate cities, but small constructions were already dotting the land, clustering around the rivers. She flew lower to inspect the closest one. The hamlet had barely a dozen buildings, and a whole lot of tents to live in. There was a firepit in the middle, currently empty and smoking. Fields of corn and carrots grew in the surrounding land, and pastures held cows and a few strange beasts that she and Tsa'Thannon had created during their rule.
Sarastrasza eyed a field of wheat and flew lower, gathering fire in her guts. Magical lines flared to life in her mind, coiling and growing about from a central nexus in her mind's eye. As she swooped above the wheat, she breathed out a steady stream of fire upon it. The flames boiled away into nothingness as they came out, and the magic held within seeped into the plants and vitalized them. Behind Sarastrasza, the wheat grew to twice its previous size as she flew. She turned around in the air and came by for a second pass, then a third, breathing more and more fire onto the fields until every plant had been touched.
Her antics had drawn a crowd from the village. There was a good mix of races. Humans, goblins, pandaren, tauren, even a few nerubians. There were children huddled around the adults' legs, but there wasn't anybody exceptionally old in the crowd. More than a few of them were missing a limb. Sarastrasza approached them and touched down, seamlessly shifting into the form of Sara. "Greetings," she said to them.
An orcish man stepped forward. "Greetings, great dragon," he said, bowing. "You have our thanks for your aid with our crops."
She waved it aside. "Think nothing of it. I was actually wondering if you could help me. You see, I'm looking for someone," she explained.
The crowd pushed around, and eventually the nerubian came forward. Sara bit down a surge of anger. The nerubians. The spider-people who thought they were too good to worship the Old Gods, that thought they, as a culture, had 'evolved beyond such demeaning practices'. Still, Sara was a remarkable actress. She smiled at the spider as he approached her. "Who are you looking for?" he asked, clicking his mandibles and staring down at her with his eight eyes.
"A draenei woman," she said, staring at him fearlessly. "By the name of Leira. Last I heard she was around this half of the continent, but I haven't been able to find her." Which was true. She had assumed Leira would stay at the closest village, but she wasn't there. She'd either taken up the nomad life, or had wandered a few weeks before settling down. Which was fine by Sara, it made for a wonderful surprise. Her life was full of those these days: she'd been so sure she could get Derestrasz to go flying, but no such luck.
The nerubian turned his head sideways and clicked his inner mandibles. "Leira, the blacksmith? Why, is she in danger?"
"Oh I hope not," she said, eyes widening. "But we knew each other before the Lost Year, and I was hoping to catch up with her," she explained.
"Hmm," he said, scratching the back of his head with one of four hands. "In return for this bountiful harvest you have brought us, it is more than suitable to give this. Leira is in Cindertin village. By flight, it should be roughly a half day's trip to the northeast."
"Half day, northeast, Cindertin." Apparently Leira worked as a blacksmith these days. Sara shifted back into Sarastrasza and dipped her head respectfully. "You have my thanks. Farewell." She unfurled her wings and took off into the sky, grinning through her fangs at the rush of thermals beneath her. It was going to take a long time for her to tire of flying, that was certain.
As Sarastrasza flew, her thoughts began to wander to Azeroth. The planet was bouncing back... surprisingly quickly, she had to be honest. The lifeforms she and Tsa'Thannon had created found their own places in the ecosystem: they either joined it, or died out with no Old Gods to support them.
Villages sprouted up left and right as the liberated mortals of the world, with most of their trauma relieved, got together so they could scream their nightmares together.
The dragons had taken Dragonfall Temple, cleansed it, and reoriented it on the ground. The election of five new Aspects would be taking place soon, with the five Aspect Hearts that she'd taken the liberty of creating before leaving Azeroth. One for each of the five original flights. The fifth would probably end up going to the uncorrupted twilights; Wrathion was still the only black dragon, the netherwing were stuck on Outland, and both the stormdrakes and stonedrakes weren't technically dragons.
The mantid and qiraji, stripped of their power and with their reproductive rates crippled, had retreated to the northern edge of the most northern continent to work among themselves. She couldn't wait to see how long it would be before they waged war on the rest of the world again.
The new world was still young, and things were still shaking themselves down. Everything was different, from the landmasses to the relative populations to the biosphere. Out with the old and in with the new. New factions, new faction leaders. New elemental lords, new cities and wars, new Aspects, new races and new landmasses.
Interestingly, those dragons that had escaped into the Caverns of Time reemerged now. The Bronze knew. They knew she would take over as an Old God, and they knew she'd eventually relinquish her hold. They came forward into a future where Azeroth was, for the first time in ten thousand years, safe. Nations would splinter and war, but as far as existential threats went? No Old Gods threatening to burst through the crust and no Burning Legion to rain fire from the heavens. The dragons had come and spread across the world, free of trauma and with their memories intact. Clever little lizards.
All around Sarastrasza, stormclouds reached into the air. Their enormous anvil shapes turned blurry underneath as they poured rain, occasionally lighting up with electricity. Behind one, the sun set and cast its flame upon the sky. Smaller cumulus clouds peppered the space between the storms marching upon the land. The continent stretched further on, eventually terminating in cliffs that overlooked the sparkling seas. The seas where the murlocs would be doing all kinds of interesting work. She could see so many details. Dragon vision wasn't as good as Old God vision, but it was a step up from human.
She found herself thinking. She did a lot of that these days. Derestrasz was... interesting. Before she became Yogg-Saron, before she even knew what she was, he had saved her. He repaid his debt for knocking her out of the sky, and saved her from a doom curse. Of course he'd been annoying as all hell. Preaching about how 'wrong' what she did was, trying to 'save her soul' from her Old God magic. She didn't care much for him; hell, she'd killed him as Yogg-Saron and brought him back to suffer.
But 'Sarastrasza' was a kind and gentle red drake, charged with protecting life. Irony aside, it was exciting to act so c
ontrary. And she supposed she did owe him at least a little therapy for saving her life. Maybe get him and Turliona to be friends down the line.
Sarastrasza was torn from her musing by a village far beneath her. How long had it been? That must've been Cindertin! Night had fallen and stars were out in abundance, but light still shone from the collection of buildings. She angled her wings and curled her tail to start her descent. She glided lower and lower until the grass tickled her scaly underbelly, and landed gracefully outside the village borders. Smoothly shifting into Sara, she began walking towards Cindertin.
The origin of Cindertin's name was obvious: it was close to a volcano. It had gone extinct since the earth and fire elementals were returned to their planes, but it had been a volcano nonetheless. If Sara remembered right, there'd been veins of - go figure - tin running through it at the time she stopped Azeroth's upheaval.
Like the other villages, it wasn't too big. A few houses, but mostly tents. Though Sara did notice a tall building of stone, with spires and windows. A cathedral. Not as ornate as the ones in the old world, there was no stained glass for instance, but it was definitely something. There was also a building of metal, outside of which hung a sign proclaiming it as the local forge.
Sara made her way towards it, weaving in between the few locals out at night. They gave her cursory glances, but nobody paid much attention to her. Drifters must have come in and out all the time, though in her brown shirt and dress Sara would appear well off. She went to the forge and knocked on the metal door. Nothing. She knocked again. Still nothing. She tried to open it... and it was locked.
Hmm.
Fortunately for her, one of the townsfolk noticed her troubles. A pandaren woman tapped her on the shoulder and Sara whirled around to face the short little thing.
"Looking for Leira, miss dragon?"