While Laronar Stormclaw began his epic quest to empower his relic of the same name, the world of Azeroth properly fell into war. Garrosh’s War, as it would come to be known by those who suffered from it. Pandaria became a battlefield. Their reintroduction to Azeroth was marked by both the hope of new beginnings, and the fracturing of the Pandaren as a people, as their young adventuring generation who’d grown up on stories of Liu Lang and the Wandering Isle stepped into a world of death and warcraft they simply weren’t ready for.

  Since Laronar needed materials, that meant it was a matter of time, and a number of refusals on the Archdruid’s part, before Mathias Shaw tempted him with something that he couldn’t easily find as a wandering adventurer, but the Kingdom of Stormwind had the connections to acquire. Indeed, Shaw had enticed Laronar so effectively, and his aid with finding Anduin Wrynn had been so appreciated, his deeds had even reached the ear of the High King of the Alliance. The Spymaster was able to solidly guarantee the powerful druid’s help for a number of decades, barring any unforeseen racial disasters that he, as a Kaldorei Archdruid, would have to attend to if and when they occurred. After losing Hyjal and having Darkshore shattered and Ashenvale invaded, he had demanded room for exceptions, which Shaw had eventually agreed to.

  But, for the immediate future, he was a proper SI:7 agent, and now found himself grouped with a band of powerful adventurers, heroes in their own right, really, to form a squad. Their squad, he’d been told, was being briefed by the High King Varian Wrynn himself. Having only been in the same room or space as the favorite of Goldrinn a few times, Laronar was curious to meet him properly, face to face. He was far too much of a wallflower to have approached him previously.

  Making up the rest of this squad was a Vindicator of the Draenei, that for some reason, other Draenei did not seem to know. He went by the name Zaldrathos, and all Shaw would tell him about the strange, heavily accented golden eyed Draenei with pale golden skin is that he was an ally of the Bronze Dragons, and he was here to be their tank. He didn’t need to know more than that. Laronar fully intended to investigate on his own, as he knew Bronze Dragons who could give him such details. He was taller than any Draenei Laronar knew of, and his power with the Light surpassed any paladin Laronar tried to remember fighting alongside. He would’ve noticed if such a being had been in Northrend, as they would’ve been a great and obvious boon, so his service to the Alliance had to be relatively new.

  Their healer was a monk who followed the Jade Serpent. Her ears marked her as a Night Elf, but her face was covered by an admittedly epic round hat that, until he’d seen her outfit, Laronar was convinced only a Pandaren could really pull off properly. The rest of her armor was jade colored, but leather, and adorned with effigies of the Celestial she followed. She’d greeted him as a favored of Xuen, but had said little else.

  Joining him as a damage dealer was a hunter called Alaron, and judging by his armor, a rather highly ranked Sentinel, who were apparently accepting males now, given how badly Garrosh had decimated their forces. The timing had aligned with various other cultural shifts in the Kaldorei, as survival took precedence over ancient custom. Laronar was a bit salty the Sisterhood of Elune was now just the ‘Priesthood’, as he had also wanted to be one, once upon a time, but that time had now passed, and his skin remained darkened and lacking her blessing. The hunter’s pets, Shalash and Ashmane for he had two, were a pair of Nightsabers, a Frostsaber and a Moonsaber respectively. Laronar liked him, even though he was so young, it made Laronar’s ten millennia old posterior cringe, when he heard he’d only lived a mere twenty five years. He was at least old enough to have fought in defense of Nordrassil, and had apparently, like many of his generation, become rather fierce, deadly fighters. When he’d asked what Laronar had been up to at his age, he’d had to pause for a solid two minutes before he recalled it was around that time he had trained with Malfurion and the first druids, to learn from him. That had made the young Night Elf spit out his Moonberry juice, to great amusement from the rest of the party.

  Rounding out their trio of damage dealers was a Human paladin, who specialized in dealing retribution. Alaric, the only name the Seventh Legion soldier had given them, was sporting a tabard of the Sons of Lothar, a group of Humans even Laronar had learned to respect. One did not survive twenty years in Outland by being as stupid as the rest of their race seemed to be. He was apparently just starting to focus on using his holy abilities instead of rage-based ones, and aside from a flash of healing Light, he hadn’t used his tie to the Light much while in Outland. This had puzzled their Draenei, but it made Laronar respect him more. Too many modern Human paladins seemed…unworthy of the shoes they had to fill. He might have simply expected too much of them, after seeing Tirion in Northrend, but the younger ones still seemed to lack something. Of all their party though, he was least worried about Alaric.

  The five of them stood straighter, as the intimidating clomp of Varian Wrynn’s plate boots filled their ears. He looked them over, greeting them brusquely with a simple nod per person as he did so. “Vindicator. Mistweaver. Archdruid. Sentinel. Knight-Captain. Your mission…is going to be complicated, even for a group as seasoned as all of you. I assume most of you have heard of our war with the Iron Horde?”

  Everyone but Laronar, who had paid zero attention to current events while gathering material for the past several months, maybe a year, nodded. Varian’s intense eyes noted the Archdruid’s lack of response, but he said nothing, rightly assuming Shaw would fill in the gaps. “Your mission is to enter the alternate Draenor timeline, and make your way to the Draenei burial grounds of Auchindoun.” Alaric, Laronar, and Alaron all twitched at the name, as they had each either been in or heard the stories of what had happened there in the realm they knew as Outland. The Draenei, oddly, had no reaction beyond a narrowing of his golden eyes, and the monk was perfectly still, like a statue. “The Shadow Council Warlock, Teron’gor, has infiltrated its defenses. Your group is to stop him at all costs, and keep him from abusing the souls of the Draenei there.”

  A hooded male Human mage in blue and white robes with gold trim entered the room, then. Varian continued, as he opened a portal between timelines, and worlds, seemingly with little effort. “Alaric knows the terrain’s layout, and should be able to guide you to Auchindoun from our base in Shadowmoon Valley. Once you step through the portal, you will be on your own. You each know what your rewards for completing this assault will be. Any questions?”

  Laronar almost raised his hand, but held off. As far as he knew, the Alliance base in Shadowmoon Valley had belonged to a rather ballsy group of Wildhammer Dwarves, and was long abandoned. Hjaldi had actually served with them, briefly, when Illidan still ruled the Black Temple. With no questions asked, Varian Wrynn dismissed them, and exited the chamber, and then one by one, the party stepped into the portal.

  Emerging on the other side, Laronar had a bit of a shock, as this Shadowmoon Valley was nothing like the one he knew. Instead of a Fel green hellscape riddled with demons, falling Infernals, and massive leftover threats from the various factions that had fought in that hellish place, this one actually had vegetation. And a sky. And a moon. It was night as they appeared, and Laronar stared in disbelief. “How…in the fuck is this Shadowmoon Valley?”

  Alaron and Alaric chuckled, the Draenei Vindicator smirked, and the monk simply sighed. A voice answered him then. “Bronze Dragon timeline fuckery.” Said Mathias Shaw, frothing mug in hand, and in his casual outfit, a simple black shirt and pants. He seemed far too casual, for the words that next came from his mouth. “Garrosh Hellscream escaped his capture in Pandaria after losing the Siege of Orgrimmar. With the help of a Bronze Dragon, and a powerful artifact, they managed to link the Dark Portal in our Azeroth to a Draenor that hadn’t yet been ripped apart by multiple Nether Portals. Or defiled by Demons. Garrosh changed this Draenor’s history, and while Thrall ended him personally, the Iron Horde born from his interference persists. All the Orcish Warlords of the past are now once more a threat, in the form of what they call the Iron Horde. Our Horde, and the Legions of the Alliance, are here to stop them from invading our Azeroth.”

  Laronar took a long moment to process. He had no clue Orgrimmar had been besieged, but he supposed that meant the Alliance had won Garrosh’s war in the end, despite the rough start they’d had. He’d been material gathering in Northrend at the time, and nobody in his network had bothered to keep him informed. He grasped the concept easily enough, as he had visited the Bronze Dragons a few times since their second victory in Silithus. One question bothered him, though. “What Bronze would ever dare to so radically alter the timelines? And where is Nozdormu?”

  Shaw chuckled humorlessly. “Nozdormu is where he always is. Wherever the fuck he pleases. Or perhaps, whenever he pleases. Either way, he wasn’t here to stop any of this, and damage is already done. With how many connections we have to this Draenor now, the timelines are inexorably linked. At least for the present. Our Bronze Dragonflight contacts have advised us to not let them enter our Azeroth, so that is what we’ve been focused on. As for which Bronze Dragon caused this…” Shaw paused to think, then nodded. “Kairozdormu, I believe was his name.”

  Laronar knew Shaw was watching him for a reaction, but the druid hid his inner sadness. Upon his last visit to the Caverns of Time, he’d known the young dragon was discontent with his station, but to so radically screw with the timeline… “What…became of Kairozdormu?” He finally asked.

  Shaw’s tone was deadpan as he said, “Khadgar and Chromie found him dead in Nagrand. Stabbed in the back…presumably by Garrosh Hellscream. The Bronzes claim he was acting alone, but my sources tell me there may be other Bronze Dragons with ideas on meddling with the past to protect the future. Now that they’ve lost their powers, many are losing hope. We’re all hoping this isn’t the birth of the Infinite Dragonflight in our timeline, but we can’t be too careful.”

  Laronar nodded along, absently. Kairoz had been a bit of a jerk, sometimes, but he didn’t deserve to be quite literally stabbed in the back. Laronar knew his motives had to have been pure, he’d been obsessed with worrying over the next Legion invasion, and had told everyone who would listen, himself included, that the next time they came could well be the last. The Bronze Flight’s powers were lessened, but not completely gone, apparently, and they still knew that much, even if predicting the Legion would return to Azeroth again wasn’t much of a prediction. From what Vehlar claimed, no world had ever rebuffed them twice, and demons were not creatures to give up a grudge.

  The party set out immediately, and since each of them could fly, they made great time to Auchindoun itself. As they approached, the grand necropolis of the Draenei loomed before them, a breathtaking fusion of sanctity and arcane might. Towering crystalline spires jutted into the night sky, pulsing faintly with the radiant energy of the Draenei's holiest crystals, their intricate inscriptions glowing with ancient protective runes.

  From the air, Auchindoun was a spectacle of Draenic architecture at its most sacred and awe-inspiring. Its vast, fortress-like structure was unique to the Draenei, and suitable as both a grave and a bastion against attacks. Towering spires reached skyward, each crowned with radiant crystalline foci that shimmered in hues of deep violet and cerulean. Below, a seamless blend of carefully cultivated gardens and geometric pathways framed the sacred burial site. Hovering platforms and bridges of solidified light connected the temple’s various terraces, a testament to the Draenei’s mastery over magic and their unwavering devotion to their fallen kin. To those who had only known the shattered husk of Auchindoun in Outland, this sight was nothing short of breathtaking.

  Oddly, Zaldrathos did not comment on it, despite this being an apparently important temple for the souls of his people, his expression, that Laronar caught with his sharp owl eyes and his form's ability to rotate its head, was one of sadness, as if gazing upon the Draenei temple was bringing up long-forgotten memories, of an age long passed. His method of flight was also strange, as with a prayer to the Light, he'd manifested a pair of golden wings that looked suspiciously like a Naaru's body parts. Their monk had simply launched into the air, a faint green aura of her focused Ki propelling her through it with ease. Laronar, naturally, had his Flight Form, and both Alaric and Alaron were the most normal of the party, riding on a war-gryphon and Cenarion Hippogryph, respectively. Both hybrid creatures were armored for battle, and a battle was exactly what they found.

  Below, was a sight every single one of them was familiar with: an active invasion by the Burning Legion. “Stay focused!” Zaldrathos shouted the order, “We are here to cleanse Auchindoun!” His Light wings flared then, and he shot forward, with the rest of the party doing the same, as they picked up their pace. Despite not getting involved, the Draenei Paladin shot through several Infernals on the ground, in front of Auchindoun’s southern entrance, his Holy wings burning them, as they fell to pieces, sliced in half, and the Draenei came sliding to a stop along the ancint cobbles, his heavy plated hooves steady, and more liekly to break the ground before they ever gave.

  Taking his cue, Laronar shifted into his Cat Form, and landed on a Doomguard, tearing out its throat, and bringing it down, to the surprise of the Draenei Vindicators who’d been fighting it. Laronar and the Light wielders shared a nod, before he padded along to join the others. Alaric had used his burgeoning abilities to throw a Light hammer at several Imps, where it then split into three, and pulped all of their skulls with the power of the Light. Zaldrathos did the same, moving at frankly ridiculous speeds for someone in full plate armor, his golden hammers moved around him constantly, smashing down anything that his own two handed Draenic warhammer didn’t already end. Alaron had his mount circle their landing zone, and his arrows struck true, while his pets manifested from the shadows, and took down whatever he targeted.

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  In short order, the party had made their presence known, and approached the entrance of Auchindoun. One of the Soulbinders greeted them, as they converged on the entrance. “I am Soulbinder Tuulani.” She said, bowing. The others each greeted her, giving their first names, at which point she said, “We should proceed inside. Teron’gor and Gul’dan are coming soon, and we must be ready for them.”

  The interior of the fabled Draenei temple was nothing short of awe-inspiring, a grand sanctum of Light-infused reverence and arcane mastery. Towering pillars of polished crystalline stone lined the vast halls, each inscribed with ancient sigils, radiating a soft, ever-present glow that filled the chamber with an ethereal brilliance. Arcane crystals hovered effortlessly, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across the gleaming mosaic floor.

  The air was thick with the scent of sacred incense, a heady mixture of rare Draenic herbs and purified oils, meant to sanctify the space and fortify the spirits of its defenders. Laronar’s sensitive nose, however, found it overwhelming, a smothering haze that masked more subtle scents. He exchanged a glance with Shalash and Ashmane, confirming that they too found their senses dulled by the potent aroma. Beyond the incense, there were other scents, some of the Draenic defenders exuded an aura unlike the others, a presence that lingered just beyond recognition, muddled and distorted by the thick, perfumed air.

  Carved alcoves along the walls housed the radiant spirit stones of fallen champions, their translucent surfaces pulsing gently with the echoes of those who had come before. The names inscribed beneath them spoke of Draenei heroes whose deeds had shaped history, figures whose sacrifices were now immortalized in the sanctified halls of Auchindoun. Here rested the spirits of Velen’s most trusted warriors, those who had fallen in the long ages the Draenei had hidden from the Legion, their wisdom and power now bound eternally to the heart of this sacred place. Among the honored were defenders who had been renowned for their hatred of demons, their devotion to the Naaru, and the contributions to keeping the Draenei people alive all these long millennia.

  Tuulani chattered on, as they walked through the temple. “Soulbinder Nyami is working to bolster our defenses as we speak. Just think, you’re some of the only Outsiders to ever see the interior of Auchindoun.” They stopped before a large barrier of Light, and Tuulani’s chattering paused. “Strange…so many of the doors are sealed? No matter.” She said, apparently not bothering to think on what that could mean, or who sealed them. She opened the shield before them in a display of Light magic. “Let us proceed, Champions.” She gestured at ornate Draenic shrines as they passed by them. “Our greatest heroes are honored here, their spirits remain with us to this day.”

  As they came upon Nyami, Tuulani announced their presence, despite the obvious Shadow magic that Nyami and her minions were pumping into the defense crystal right in front of them. “Nyami! The Champions are here… Oh…what is this!? Oh no…no!”

  The other Souldbinder, Nyami evidently, turned and grinned at her contemporary. “Yes, Tuulani. Now, you see…your efforts were valiant…if irritating. I did not think only one of the crystals would power the defenses…but nothing will stand in the way of my Master’s plans…” Behind her, the defense crystal cracked, and fell to the ground, shattered. The corrupted, red skinned Eredar, now revealed to be loyal Legion saboteurs, dispensed with their disguises, and advanced on the party.

  Tuulani turned to them, saying, “Quickly! You must stop them!”

  Nyami wasn’t done monologuing though. A choking barrier of Shadow magic formed a shield around Tuulani, as Nyami crowed triumphantly. “Now, the only thing standing in our way…is this sad little group of Mortals…”

  Zaldrathos struck first, once again moving faster than anything that large and covered in plate should have been able to. He leapt, and swung his warhammer into Nyami, as the rotating Light hammers from earlier appeared again, spinning as they dealt damage and drew aggro. The party didn’t need an order to spring into action, and Zaldrathos did not give one. Alaric and his greatsword waded into the Eredar, cleaving them in half as he dealt his Holy retribution.

  Alaron riddled the warlocks who’d corrupted the crystal with arrows, and his loyal Sabercats finished them off once they stumbled. Their monk was focused on keeping Zaldrathos alive and undamaged from Nyami’s dark spells. Laronar, as usual, went for the biggest target, and he noted that the Draenei Paladin leading them was able to see him as he Prowled. This worked out well, as he brought down a stunning hammer on Nyami, and hammered her with brutal, Holy strikes. As the stun ran its course however, Laronar leapt from the shadows, raking his claws down her back, and the pair of them brought her down quicker than she’d expected.

  A dark energy shield of nope surrounded the Eredar, as she shouted triumphantly despite having her entire cadre wiped out, “Auchindoun’s defenses are down, and now, my final tool will dispatch you Alliance fools!” She ran away in a burst of dark energy, and before Laronar and Zaldrathos could give chase, a Draenei Protector robot slammed into the fallen crystal, shattering it further. Its glowing ocular sensors were an ominous shadowy purple tinged with a Fel green as it shouted at them, “None live who assault the holy Auchenai! I will strike you down!”

  Tuulani shouted for them to defeat the Protector, like they had any other choice, and after far too long, they managed to do just that. Its metal chassis had provided a suitable distraction to the champions, while the Legion was given time to complete their dark plans. They went to help Tuulani, as the Protector finally fell apart.

  “She had help…so many of our order were corrupt…I’ll gather any who remain loyal here, and protect them. Please, Champions, go and put an end to this madness!”

  Not wasting time on words, the strike team did so, absolutely tearing through the Legion’s spies, as easily as they had torn through Auchindoun’s defenders. They arrived in the Nave of Eternal Rest, where they’d first entered, and once more, engaged the wounded Nyami in battle. It was short lived. Zaldrathos kept her focus, while Alaron and their monk handled the minions. Laronar tore out her throat, leaving Nyami collapsed on the ground in a puddle of her own foul blood as she wheezed, “Too late…my Master…comes…”

  The Auchenai Wardens advanced on the chamber, seeing it was clear now, and sent a scout ahead of them to pursue Nyami’s agents. Unfortunately for the scout, an Infernal landed on him, but even a battering ram of the Legion lasted only seconds before two paladins, and Laronar’s sparking claws.

  Once more, they turned the holy corridors of Auchindoun into a slaughterhouse, and came upon a foul Legion machine summoning more of their forces into the Draenei’s holiest place. What Laronar could only describe as a Fel Doomguard appeared, giving them the usual ‘who dares to interfere with our plans? Your world, all worlds, will burn’ line, but again, the Light, and the fangs of three Nightsabers aided by some timely arrows, brought the creature to its end on the mortal plane, sending it straight back to the Nether.

  The next part of their efforts led them to a Soul Teleporter, which activated once the Legion presence was removed from their area. Turning them into four swirling blue lights, they ended up behind their target: Teron’gor. He was shouting something they couldn’t quite hear, but then he unleashed a Rain of Fire on the defenders by the entrance to the temple, reducing them to piles of ash. “Such decadence!” Teron’gor shouted, louder this time, as his murder spree evidently spurred him to raise his voice. “It will all burn!”

  The strike team made short work of his minions, and three more times, swirled across the main chamber of Auchindoun, until finally, they reached Teron’gor himself. Soul by Draenic soul, the Fel corrupted Orc sporting a massive pair of demonic horns was consuming their power for himself, and growing more grotesque in the process as the heroic and now deceased Draenei vanished in noiseless screams within the growing body of Teron'gor. Each one he consumed fueled his transformation from an Orc of Draenor, into something far more foul. “Foolish Gul’dan…” He monologued to no one in particular, “this gift…is more than you could ever know!” The strike team wasted no time.

  Leaping forward and further propelled by his wings, Zaldrathos brought his hammer down on Teron’gor, only for the empowered warlock, fresh from feasting on three renowned Draenei souls at once, to spin just as quickly, and catch the paladin’s hammer. They struggled, and Teron’gor eventually pushed Zaldrathos back, forcing the paladin to land, and narrow his golden eyes. “Eet is about time…one you Felspawn actually posed a challenge…” A dark grin appeared on Zaldrathos’ features, contrary to the Light radiating off of him, as he upped his game.

  Teron’gor did the same, as the rest of the party caught up to their tank. “I become…something Greater!” Teron’gor shouted, as black purple fire surrounded and obscured his form in shadow. Demonic wings sprouted from his back, and recognizing what he was doing, the party scattered. Their monk propelled herself away with her Chi, while Alaron and Laronar dodged away from the warlock’s fiery landing, before tearing into him with claws and arrows. Alaric, for his part, simply raised a protective and invulnerable barrier of Light, like Zaldrathos had, and fearlessly, both paladins began tearing into the empowered Orc.

  Zaldrathos kept his focus, his radiant form a contrast to Teron’gor’s Fel darkness. They traded heavy blows, one after another, the force of them rolling through the entire temple. Curses, Shadowbolts, Incinerates, even another Rain of Fire, it all fell uselessly on the strike team as they either dodged, or healed through the damage. Alaric and Laronar had Flash of Light and Regrowth respectively, so their monk stayed focused on healing Zaldrathos, and the two Nightsabers, while Alaron stayed irritatingly far out of the warlock’s range.

  Powerful as Teron’gor was, he was fighting alone, and being outnumbered by five worthy foes was enough to push him over the edge. Literally.

  “More…I need…MORE!” He shouted, struggling now, under all the damage, bleeds, and arrows, to hold off Zaldrathos’s furious warhammer. With a final spin into an upwards arc of an attack, a loud crack filled Auchindoun, as Teron’gor fell from the platform they were fighting on, circular, as always, into the depths of the temple below.

  “You…you did it!” Came the voice of Tuulani, who joined them with a genuine, and tired smile. She placed a large chest from her pack on the floor before the heroes. “I know it is not much…but it is what we have. Please, take this reward, and thank your King Varian for his timely assistance!”

  Zaldrathos nodded, picked up a trinket from the pile, shrugged, shoved it in his bag, and then shoulder over his large pauldron, stomped towards the exit. The others did the same, and Laronar found that the Draenic crystals he acquired actually fit rather well in the Stormclaw’s minor slot for them.

  By the time they left, Blood Knight Liadrin of Silvermoon and a Draenei Laronar didn’t recognize were standing victorious over a Pit Lord just outside. The Draenei forces, it seemed, had repelled the Legion’s attack successfully, and with their job seemingly done, the party took flight to head back to Shadowmoon Valley.

  Little did they know, down in the depths of Auchindoun, a fallen Vindicator straight from the alternate timeline itself, came upon the broken and battered body of Teron’gor. Surrounded by her Sargeri, she tutted. “Now now, Teron…it’s not time for you to die just yet…” Her corrupted power of the Light now turned to Fel, surged into the broken Orc, bringing him back to some kind of form of life. With a loud roar, the abomination began drawing in Draenic souls at an alarming rate, and the fallen Vindicator grinned. “Good…good boy. Feast well…the Master has plans for you.”

  Back at the Alliance Garrison, Laronar and the others enjoyed a pint with Shaw and the rest of the tavern, as they recounted their victory over one of the Iron Horde’s leaders. That, did wonders for morale. After about an hour of partying, Shaw pulled Laronar aside, and handed him a brown bag. “Here, Laronar. The materials you were seeking. I can get more on your list, if you’ll agree to stay, and help us.”

  Laronar shook his head. “Tempting though it is to slaughter more Orcs…I have the materials I need already. This was one of the last, and I just got mail confirming that my Dwarven friend has the rest. It’s time to revive and properly empower the Storm Claw.”

  Shaw sighed, but nodded. “I understand. With how present the Legion is here…it’s a matter of time before their foul eyes turn to Azeroth again. Train well, Archdruid. You can bet that SI:7 will have assassination contracts for the Demon’s leaders, when their next assault comes.”

  Laronar clasped arms with Shaw in the manliest of goodbyes, and turned to leave, only to find his path blocked by their monk. Except, for the first time all mission, her admittedly cool hat was gone, revealing a rather attractive set of features that he recognized with widened eyes. “Saria! I thought you smelled familiar…but I couldn’t place the scent. Its been some time. I see the training with Yulon has gone well.”

  The monk nodded calmly. “Very well. She is now to me, what Ashamane is to you. Before you depart, Laronar Stormclaw, I have a request of you.” Laronar gulped. It was never a good sign when females from his past used both of his name. Never. “My beloved sister is…going through some hardship, in Val’sharah. I am worried for her…but nothing I say or do gets through to her. She always listened to you, though…and I know she still pines for you, even if your differences in what to train the Sharpclaws in drove you apart. She’s over it…and she could use your help. Something foul festers in Val’sharah…I ask that you go there, when you can.”

  Laronar nodded, as he too remembered Naria. Quite fondly. Laronar didn’t tend to have many regrets, but giving up on what they’d had so easily had definitely been one of them. “For her, there’s not much I would not do. I’ll head there as soon as I can, Saria. You have my word.” She thanked him, and though it was weird, seeing the formerly brash druid turned into an almost eerily calm monk, he was glad she’d found her path.

  With his path set before him, Laronar caught a portal back to a timeline where things made sense, and then began flying to Ironforge, forgoing the foul smelling Deeprun Tram. He’d actually tested his storm-enhanced flight, and had found it was a bit faster than taking the tram, though that was mostly due to not having to wait for it to arrive, embarking, and disembarking. Excitement filled him, as he felt the power of his family artifact boost his speed, and his Flight Form let out a piercing shriek as he sped over Khaz Modan, straight towards its capital, and his old Wildhammer friend.