Descent into Madness: Part 4- The Bronze Dragonshrine

We made it to Dalaran. Words fail to describe the happenings of our journey, but his potential is indeed terrifying. I have not yet seen my fate altered in his hands. My attempts at refining may well be in vain, but I continue to work with him. I continue to teach and demonstrate what it means to be a Bronze, and also an elf. I continue to push him to let go of his anger, his hatred, and embrace this new life. I continue to impress upon him the importance of family and the nature of raising a child. I continue to remind him that Amina is not his enemy.

My love for my one and only son grows each day. I never thought it possible to embrace my own failure in this fashion, but this bond surpasses all I have experienced. I gladly give my life, so that my son may finally find himself in the heart of this mess. I give my life so he can see his mistakes, and grow into the role I abandoned to save him. All my hopes, all my dreams... lay in his hands.

After this journey, I know they are capable. Simply misguided.

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Wyrmrest Temple. The structure itself was visible for several miles, the great stone spire scraping the very sky of Dragonblight. It was not until they drew closer that it became clear the nature of the situation in the area. Blues and reds clashed in a climactic battle surrounding the tower, corpses dropping like meteors as the flying beasts slaughtered each other. Kalidormi could only watch from afar, horrified and transfixed. She had hoped Amatius saw reason for coming here, but even as they wended their way along the snow-covered paths, nothing came to mind. He had no ties to her kind, apart from her. He had no desire even to learn of their kind, as he'd shown when she presented him with the Tome.

They reached the edge of the blighted forest and a wide, powder-covered valley spread out before them, culminating in the stairs at the feet of the tower. They were now close enough to hear the screams of the mighty wyrms as their spells worked to tear each other apart. Wandering hyenas stalked their path, magnataur roared with feral voices, and frost wyrms swooped vulture-like overhead. The scene breathed of befouled nature, the inner druid clawing at Kalidormi's soul for escape. She worried for her dual nature, for the side of her that could clearly understand the dying calls of her brethren yearned to reach out to them. To stop the madness. Druid and Dragon both wailed at the injustice, the corruption.

"Amatius my son... this is our conflict. Look well, and remember all you see and hear." She spoke softly, carefully. These were the most words she'd put together in front of him since the journey began. As she intended, these few words (she hoped) would have a greater combined impact. The less he heard, the more he could feel. The less she said, the more he could absorb. The more closely he'd listen. Desperately she hoped he heard her now, and not in the way he usually did.

They ran to the foot of the tower, narrowly avoiding the body of a full grown Red crushing them on approach. There they stopped, within sight of a Steward, who watched the exchange with a decided amount of disinterest. Kali followed the pillars and pavillions of the tower's formation all the way to the top, where it culminated in a circular patio with a balcony overlooking southern Dragonblight. A small army of Reds clustered around it, both airborne and not. She knew who resided there.

"Ask the steward to take you to the top of the Temple. A gnome named Chromie should be expecting you." She did not mention Alexstrasza or the emissaries from the other Flights. She did not offer him any more information. She did not accompany him. Instead she waited at the bottom steps, booted feet buried in a snow drift. Eyes lost in the battle-torn heavens. Senses absorbed wholly in the permeating conflict that worked to destroy all that she'd grown to love. This conflict had never been about the Blues or the Reds... it was about their kind as a whole. Another mad Aspect. Just how many more would there be?

A small eternity later, Amatius had returned, and his sights were set to the North and East... a place they called the Bronze Dragonshrine. A strange sort of chill crept over her. So this was why she brought him here. Fate never lies, and upon following the impulse to obey all that she was told, she'd been brought here. To the foot of the very Temple that was capable of enslaving her back into the nature of her kind. Of stripping her of all she'd become over the long years. Of making her more Dragon and less Mortal. She'd brought him here to teach him of their kind, their plight, but also to find her own salvation... or damnation.

And as they approached the Shrine from the South, she became aware that one outcome was significantly more probable than the other.

The very moment her eyes lit upon the snow-less sands that filled the basin of the Shrine, her world went dark and cold. All was stripped away but the silhouette of a lone figure, walking away from her, unaware of the tearing sensation that quite suddenly stripped her of her will. She yearned to reach out to him, to call him back, but even as she watched, her mortal form kept walking, leaving her quavering, draconic spirit behind. In that instant, as her very existence wavered like a candle before a wind, her mortal eyes saw what the immortal ones could not: Nozdormu himself. The Timeless One, lost to her kind for generations.

Her heart soared. Her eyes shut.

What she did not see of the encounter was strange indeed. As Kali's body, the form she chose as a Kaldorei elf, paced away from the spot where immortals could no longer enter, a faint outline appeared. A great Bronze, with a series of long, curving, elegant horns, neck scales the color of moss, and a jade pendant danging from a fine golden chain from her jaws stood motionless, captivated. The image was static in the air for several seconds, until Kali's mortal body drew too far away, and both collapsed, and the image vanished.

She never heard Amatius' cries as he realized what had happened, nor the warning that came a precious few seconds too late.

When she woke, she was safe in her chambers, above the Leatherworkers' shop in Dalaran. Amatius sat by her side, the tome she bestowed upon him in his hands.