User:Peregrine2976/Fanfiction/The Hourglass Shatters/Prologue

PREVIEW The rift in time stood before them, a portal hovering in the air. Through it, they could discern nothing but an inky blackness, pierced occasionally by a flash of red.

“What time is that?” asked Rhonin, his mouth agape.

Slowly, Alexstrasza raised her head, the red dragon looking down at them seriously.

“It is before time,” she said. “It is when the Three and their ilk ruled, before the Titans came and killed them or imprisoned them. It is the bloody chaos that this world will become, if they are allowed to cross through that rift.”

Nearby, Nozdormu shook himself. “So it is time at last,” the great bronze dragon muttered to himself. “I have known of this moment since first Norgannon gave me power over Time. At last, the final flight of Nozdormu, Aspect of Time.” With that, he leapt into the air, and began to fly towards the rift.

“What did he mean?” asked Oronok.

Alexstrasza did not answer for a long moment. At last she replied, “You mortals say that Nozdormu knows the time and manner of his own death, do you not?”

“Yes, but...” Oronok’s voice trailed off. His jaw wide open, he looked back and forth between Alexstrasza and Nozdormu, who was winging his way steadily towards the rift. “You don’t mean…”

“Yes,” Alexstrasza sighed. “He was erratic and slightly obsessive at times, but I shall miss him. He has been a dear brother to me for many ages.”

Nozdormu had reached the portal. As they watched, he roared, “Alexstrasza, I have not the strength! Now must the dragons of life show forth their power! Just as you are the lifegivers, so too must you be the lifetakers! Draw from their strength and send it to me!”

Without hesitation, Alexstrasza leapt into the air. “Come, my children!” she roared commandingly. “Aid our dear brother!”

As one, the red dragons began winging their way towards where Nozdormu struggled to stay aloft, in the very middle of the rift. As they reached the outskirts of the portal, they stopped, and Rhonin could feel his strength being sapped out of him, leeched, and sent to strengthen the ailing Nozdormu.

“It is… not… enough!” roared Nozdormu, his voice beginning to fade. “Need… more… strength…”

Without even pausing to think, Rhonin sent all the magic he possessed, all the power he commanded, into Nozdormu. He saw that all the others had done the same. But it did not seem to make a difference. Nozdormu’s form began to grow corporeal. With alarm, Rhonin understood: the dragon was the Aspect of Time. As time itself was being rent apart, destroyed, so too was Nozdormu.

Then, in a sudden burst of understanding, he recalled Medivh’s parting words: “Though life no longer beats in the hearts of those long dead, though the corrupt and wicked are no longer filled with joy and hope, still their power can be summoned, from the depths…”

The depths of Time?

Rhonin understood. Shouting as loud as he could, he yelled to the Aspect: “Nozdormu! Reach into the Sands of Time! Pull forth the power of all who have lived, will live, and live to this day! Bring them all forth!”

For a brief instant, Nozdormu’s eyes registered shock. Then understanding spread. He roared again, sending out a command throughout Time itself, to come aid him in this, his final task,

And Time answered.

From the depths of the rift they were trying so hard to close, Rhonin saw figures emerge. Not the horrendous Faceless Ones, but heroes – and villains – from all history. Malfurion and Illidan, the Brothers Stormrage, came forth, the Druid and the Demon. Turning their faces upwards, they sent their strength to the dragon. Ner’Zhul he saw, no longer a decrepit old slave, nor the terrifying presence of the Lich King, but an orc shaman, proud and strong. About him the spirits swirled, and together, they sent what strength earth, fire, water, and wind could.

At the head of a contingent of Paladins, Tirion Fordring, Uther the Lightbringer, and Arthas Menethil walked. As one, they knelt, and sent what power the Light had to offer. Archmage Antonidas and his apprentice, Jaina Proudmoore, walked together, and with them came Prince Kael’Thas and Kel’Thuzad, no longer fel and evil but the great beings they had once been. Together, they offered up their not inconsiderable magical powers.

Many other forms he saw: Medivh and Aegwynn as the head of all the Guardians from throughout the ages, High Elf wizards, and Velen, accompanied by Archimonde and Kil’Jaeden, no longer evil and emanating a sickly green light, but strong and noble, surrounded by a brilliance that spoke of light and hope. And looking above these shades from the past, Rhonin could see that many fallen dragons had returned to serve their flights. Korialstrasz flew at the side of his mate once more, and Malygos led the blue dragons one last time. He even thought, peering above the rest of the dragons, that he could see a great black dragon, not the sooty, dirty black of Deathwing, but the pure onyx of Neltharion the Earth-Warder.

From every corner of existence, from every shred of Time, they had been called. And they had come, the dead and the uncorrupted, to serve the universe in this one last task.

Nozdormu’s corporeal form began to solidify again. However, he still roared, “Not… enough… power… need… more…”

And in that final moment, as Rhonin’s stomach plummeted, he looked up and beheld an awe-inspiring sight. Great giants stood in the sky, their forms transparent. Mighty they were, and it seemed to him that their skin was made of metal. Bronze, iron, and stone, as well as countless other metals he could not have named.

As one, the Titans stretched out their hands, palm outward, towards Nozdormu. And from them, they sent all their strength. Nozdormu’s head, which had been drooping, shot up again. His wings flared out, his eyes gleamed, and when he roared one last time, it was not the hoarse, ragged roar of before, but strong, defiant, and proud. As he roared, the rift shimmered and wavered, and then with a sucking sound it collapsed in on itself. As it did so, one by one the shades of the past wavered and disappeared. When the rift was gone, Nozdormu too had disappeared.

But as the forms of the Titans, too, shimmered and vanished, Rhonin thought he saw in their ranks one more than before, this one with bronze skin.