A/N: I... have not updated since May. Oops. That break turned out to be far longer than I thought, but the good news is, I'm ready to tackle the rest of this and I have almost all of it planned out.

Thank you to Wanda Von Dunayev, for her amazing beta work for this chapter. And thank you to everyone who ever sent me a PM encouraging me to keep going. It really touched me how many of you asked about this, especially as of late. I really did not expect there to still be interest in this. Checking the stats and finding out that people still read through the entire thing every week was humbling, too. Thank you, all of you. So much.

It is great to be back.


Following her 'rescue', a now-undead Onyxia has joined with the surviving black dragons and dragonsworn, Sam, to form the Obsidian Dawn. To keep Nyxondra's pure egg safe from Deathwing, Lirastrasza proposes switching it with one of Nalice's, an egg of great power. However, the Infinite Dragonflight switches them first.

Meanwhile, Eduard secretly seeks Onyxia's help to protect the Steward of Northrend from the Old Gods who wish to use his power. In return for her assistance, he provides the Obsidian Dawn with safe passage to Naz'anak beneath Icecrown.

In Icecrown, Onyxia seeks the Lich King's power to shield her from Old God control. She is confronted by her former rival, Tariona White, and the truth: Bolvar Fordragon is the Lich King. In the Citadel proper she investigates the chamber Bolvar was tortured in, and Eduard appears to approach her. But it becomes quickly apparent that it is not Eduard who has confronted her…

Chapter Thirteen

Onyxia's feet felt frozen to the ground. She watched the undead in front of her. He watched back. His stare was cold and penetrating, unlike the fluttering darting of Eduard's gaze. Eduard had always slouched, always been lanky. It was only now, with his back straight and shoulders stiff, that Onyxia realised how tall Eduard was. He's taller than me. Taller than even Bolvar had been.

For long moments they stood there, staring at each other.

And then the hot anger rose within her. You. She narrowed her eyes and tightened her grip on her staff.

"It took you long enough." 'Eduard' crossed his arms again. "And here I was under the mistaken impression you were intelligent."

"It's a shame you weren't in here longer." Onyxia's eyes took in the torture chamber once more. The cold saronite walls, the soot on the table. Where was his body now? Up above, on the Frozen Throne, with the Helm of Domination on his head? Covered in a block of ice like they said Ner'zhul's had been?

You killed my children, she wanted to say.

She saw them in front of her. An enormous cavern, the stone slabs cracked with lava. They looked like dead birds. Blood everywhere. Blood drying on the stone, on their scales, on their jaws. Their wings had crumpled over them like broken shelters. Some had been skinned bare of scales and were nothing more than piles of flesh, blood and bone.

You killed my dragonspawn.

None of the dragonspawn had escaped skinning. Some of their heads had been cut off, the claws yanked from their hands, their teeth missing as well. All the scales gone. She remembered the spiders and crocolisks that swarmed over the corpses and devoured them. She remembered how, years later when she came back from the dead, the Dustwallow mud still stained the hem of Katrana Prestor's dress; the dress she'd worn that day in Stormwind Keep when Reginald Windsor had marched up the hall.

You killed them and you butchered them!

In Blackrock Spire, Nefarian's head had been separated from his body, hacked off, hauled away. The blood on the ground then had been bigger than any stain she'd seen before. She remembered dead goblins, dead experiments, more dead dragonspawn and whelplings. Children. Blackrock Spire, city of the dead.

"Children?" Bolvar's presence brushed against her mind as he spoke, and she hissed at the violation. "Monsters."

You helped the Reds! Her hands shook and her eyes narrowed. The Reds had been there to burn the bodies at the Wrathgate. Sabel had told her how they'd worked alongside the mortal races. You helped the Reds, worked alongside the Bronzes and the Greens, you

"None of them tried to wipe us all out." He spoke casually, as if discussing the weather.

You helped them and not us! The Black Dragonflight been tainted all along, wrong all along. Nobody ever helped us, we were hunted from the start.

"And whose fault is that, I wonder?"

"The Old Gods." We'd never have looked at you twice if you'd only left us alone! "They corrupted us, corrupted Deathwing. We've been hunted for my father's crimes - "

"And I suppose you never did anything wrong." Bolvar looked bored.

"-We were brainwashed from birth, made to hunt and kill each other, and nobody ever helped us!" Her voice was climbing in hysteria.

"Nobody ever helped because you're monsters."

"Sabel's not a monster!" Onyxia spat out. "All Serinar's ever done was keep the Shrine safe, all Nalice ever did was whine and complain — "

"Didn't Serinar oversee the deaths of a civilisation or two? He boasted of it to a merc that helped him clear the Obsidian Shrine — "

"What about Obsidia? What about Nyxondra?" She hurled her staff at him. Bolvar blinked out of the way just in time for it to shatter against the wall. "Nyxondra was captured and bred like a dog. Obsidia was deliberately targeted because she was a female, they wanted to wipe us out, so they attacked her. Nalice is harmless, and they're hunting her for the exact same reason. You know what that's called, Fordragon? Genocide."

"You don't seem to care Nalice almost dropped a baby — "

"I'd kill your children gladly, see how you feel about it!" She whirled around to see him on the other side of the table. "How would you like to come home to see Saya dead and skinned because all you ever wanted was to save your people?"

"Hypocrisy." Bolvar's voice was so quiet she barely heard it. "You'd have gladly razed Stormwind to the ground."

"You had a few piddly dragons and dragonspawn in your midst and went and wiped half of us out," said Onyxia. "You murdered, enslaved, skinned children and wore their scales. What I did was nothing in comparison to your crimes, Fordragon. You have the blood of hundreds of black dragons on your hands. Hundreds."

"It's a good thing I had them killed," said Fordragon. "Or Deathwing's forces would just be bolstered."

Her anger boiled over.

She hurled a fireball at him. Bolvar blinked out of the way. Words failed her, and all that came out of her mouth was a feral, draconic snarl as she pelted him with another. Bolvar stepped aside and sighed. "You're a horrible shot when you're angry. Why don't you have some time out?"

And then her body crumpled underneath her.

Her head cracked against the metal floor. She struggled to move, but her limbs did not obey her. She couldn't twitch a finger; couldn't move her eyelids. The cold saronite floor pressed into her cheek. She tried to hiss, tried to call out, tried to do something

"I'll come back when you've calmed down." Bolvar hesitated in the doorway. "Or maybe you're better off dead. It's over, Onyxia, accept it. You lost."

She felt as if her fury would burst out of her skin. She wanted to scream until she deafened him, to cry until her dead body shed tears again, to call out to the heavens in mourning.

"It was long ago, Onyxia. Let it go."

Let it go?! Her anguish was a clamour inside her own head, a racket she couldn't escape. It grew louder by the moment, unable to find escape as she lay paralysed on the ground. Do you have any idea what you've done, what you're still doing? We will die out and you don't even care!

"Why should I?" His voice was soft, almost sympathetic. He knelt beside her, but now his head was out of her vision. She tried to twist and jerk again, but her body still refused to obey. "You've dug your own graves. You dug them a long time ago."

I never asked for this.

"Who ever asks to suffer the consequences for their own actions?"

She never asked for the corruption, the Dragon Soul, Deathwing's crimes, the Old Gods, death and blood everywhere —

A hundred tiny corpses.

She'd stepped on them when she fought the Brotherhood. They'd crunched and broken underneath her claws, scattered over so much of the ground that there'd been no room to move around them as she took her vengeance on the guild that had brought her brood ruin.

The other Flights had abandoned them. They should have known, they should have realised what was going on, but they let us die. They let us follow Deathwing, they let him ruin us all. They stood by and let it happen.

The world was their enemy. They had to survive.

But they couldn't.

Her anger drained from her as suddenly as it came. The bone-deep weariness that had dogged her since her resurrection returned with a vengeance. The tension and fight ebbed away.

They were going to die, every single one of them. Nalice's son would die. The Black Prince, sooner or later, would be found again and used like the pawn the other Flights saw him as. How long until he died, too? Would she live long enough to see him go?

The beacons in Sholazar were nothing but another shot in the dark from a group of dogged survivors desperate enough to strike out at anything. The Eye of the Watchers was in Wyrmrest Temple, and the only ally they had in there, the Ambassador, had now been exposed as the traitor he was to the Lich King. The pylons in Sholazar were under the control of the Twilight's Hammer, and who knew what would happen to them if the mortal races discovered what the Hammer were doing with them?

We need the Black Prince. They needed to find him, bring him back, and…

... And then what?

A sob escaped her, in spite of herself. She covered her mouth with a hand.

And then she realised she could move.

Slowly, she sat up and looked about the room, trying to ignore the ache of her heart.

She was alone.

The world was silent, here. The clamour in her mind, the stress that had followed her from Stormwind had drained away.

Deep below, the Old Gods watched the chaos they had sown.

But in here, in the silence, it was as if none of that was happening. She was dead, so not even the sound of breathing disturbed the air. Frost chilled the walls.

She let the silence press in on her and yank her into another memory. Green eyes. Brown hair. The white walls of Stormwind. An arm curled around her as she snuggled into a warm body, a book open in her lap marked with Common runes. No sound except for the whisper of pages.

How things had been different, back then. Back then, she'd only fought against one god, one little Bronze who changed her fate at a whim.

Now she fought several. The dark things under the earth. The new god of the undead.

"Lady?" said Eduard's soft voice. "I hear your distress."

She looked up to see Eduard hovering by the door. He was slouching, again, wringing his hands. She didn't hear even a hint of Stormwind in his speech.

"My lady?" Eduard sounded almost as anguished as she felt. "Are you alright?"

She hesitated.

What was the use in having pride anymore? What was the use in pretending to be strong anymore?

"I don't remember the last time I was alright." Her voice sounded soft. Weary.

"Lady?" Eduard gazed at her mournfully as he stepped closer. He offered her his hand.

She took it. Let him pull her up. She sat on the table that had once been Bolvar's hell.

Held her head in her hands.


She felt Eduard slide onto the table beside her. Felt an arm come around her, hold her tight as she cried quietly. Felt a cheek as cold as hers on top of her head. She shed no tears, but the sobs wrenched her throat.

Time was meaningless in that little pocket of the world. The two of them remained still for what felt like hours. Echoes made her sobs sound loud. Eduard's arm was loose around her. He said nothing. Made no sound. He was as bony as any Forsaken could be expected to be; his hip dug into her side. If it were Sabel, he'd be ranting on about something or other. If it were Sam, she'd be wringing her hands and making useless noises at her. But Eduard was still.

At last, the sobs subsided. The world was quiet again. Almost soothing. The walls that hid all sound from her deceived her. In here, there was tranquility preserved like flowers pressed between the pages of a heavy book.

Outside, there was war, and genocide, and blood.

"Do you feel better?" said Eduard, quietly.


She lay there against him for a few moments longer without answering, before she sat up.

Eduard slid off the table. Watched her.

She didn't look up. Just stared at the floor.

"What the hell is there to do?" she croaked. "There's — " She stuttered. Found words again. Switched to Draconic, finally, rather than the alien tongue Common had always been. It felt like coming home. "There's nothing we can do. We can run forever, but they will catch up."

Eduard wrung his hands again.

"He's telling them," said Onyxia. "Isn't he? The Reds? Telling them where we are." She looked down at her mismatched hands; one stripped of flesh down to the bone, the other whole. "It's over if he tells." I should never have come. If I'd known…

Sabel had been right not to tell her about Fordragon.

Eduard gazed at her.

"I should warn the others." She stood, then. Her legs felt weak. "It was a mistake to come here."

"I…" Eduard twisted his hands. "I will come with you, Lady."


"Did he take you up on your offer?" said Tariona White as they passed her, their feet crunching on the snow as they headed towards the tunnel that would return them to Naz'anak. "You did offer to make him dragonspawn, right?"

Eduard muttered something in response. Onyxia didn't answer.

Far away, she heard a scream that froze her in her tracks.

It was piercing. Anguished. It was a scream of agony, not the shriek of a furious toddler in a tantrum.

"What was that?" said Tariona White.

Onyxia ran.


Blood on the ice.

A flurry of wings.

Nalice and Serinar standing over it all, their eyes dark, their expressions murderous.

Sabel, swearing as he fought to separate Saya and Jettion.

Onyxia dove in.

Saya screamed as Onyxia fastened her hands over her son's jaws and tried to pry them from Saya's blood-soaked arm. "Damn it!" Sabel snarled. "You're hurting her, you're hurting her, the teeth will just rip her arm — "

Onyxia dropped Jettion. She wrapped her arms around Saya, who continued to scream and struggle to tear her arm from her brother's jaws. Sabel plugged Jettion's nostrils with a hand.

Onyxia's head snapped up, her eyes focused on Eduard. "Help her!"

It was Eduard who'd been present, with his shoulders slack and his mouth gaping. But his body moved like a soldier's again, like Bolvar did, and he thrust a hand forward. Water gushed from the palm of the mage's hand like a hose and drenched the four of them. Sabel cursed. Jettion shrieked, and let go. Bolvar grabbed him.

Saya cried and curled into her mother's body. Sabel's hand glowed green and reached for Saya's arm. Saya cried out and struggled, but Onyxia pinned the girl's upper arms to her side. Sabel's fingertips touched the wound. The skin knitted together under the blood. When it was done, Onyxia let go, and Saya clung to her and sobbed. Onyxia's grip was tight on her daughter as the girl shook, her face white from shock.

The rest of the world was silent as the cavern magnified her cries. Tariona stared in horror. Bolvar stood with one arm wrapped around Jettion, pinning his wings to his body, his other hand firmly clamping the whelp's jaw shut as he struggled. Serinar twitched and snarled on the spot.

"You see why I call your children monsters?" said Bolvar.

Sabel stood up, hands shaking. "It was Saya who attacked him first. She just…" Sabel looked down at her. "She just lunged at him out of nowhere."

Bolvar closed his mouth.

Onyxia said, "Do you think she's a monster, too?"

Bolvar didn't answer.

"Shut that rat up before I kill her!" Nalice spat. "I can't stand that little wretch! If you don't shut her up, I will, she's been nothing but a useless burden — "

Bolvar fixed his frozen stare on Nalice. "No."

Nalice stopped.

Onyxia stroked Saya's hair as the girl's clinging loosened and her cries turned into sniffles. "Sabel," she said. Her voice shook. It sounded quieter than even Serinar's. "Do you have something we can clean her up with?" Both child and mother were drenched with blood. "A little troll's blood, if you have any…"

How could a child lose so much blood?

"Sam has all the troll's blood potions." Sabel was drenched, too, not just in the water Bolvar had doused them with. "But she'll need a health potion to make sure she doesn't get sick, healing her like that will have sealed in all the bacteria..."

"Shhh, shh." Somehow, Onyxia found it in herself to croon to Saya, who was now limp, shaking and silent in her arms. The girl gasped for air. "It's alright now. It's over. It's okay."

"You really," said Eduard's voice, "did not have to do that."

Onyxia looked up to see Bolvar, still possessing Eduard from the rigid posture of the undead's body, glowering at her. "She's a child."

"What?" said Onyxia.

"Bewitching adults is one thing," said Bolvar. "Bewitching a child? No."

"I did not do this," said Onyxia.

"You compelled her."

"That wasn't me! You can see into my head, can't you?"

"And how do I know what I find there is true?"

You don't, Onyxia didn't say.

Onyxia pressed her cold lips to the side of Saya's head. Sabel came over with a scrap of wet cloth, and dabbed at Saya's arm. The extent of the damage Jettion had done to her was horrific; scars, healing into smooth blemishes in front of Onyxia's eyes, mutilated the entirety of Saya's forearm. Tooth marks began to disappear as the remnants of Sabel's healing magic tended to the scar tissue. Saya sniffled. Sabel encouraged her to blow her nose on the bloodstained cloth. Onyxia wiped away the red stain it left on the child's nose with the heel of her good hand. "Bolvar, I didn't — "

"You've done enough," said Bolvar.

"I'd never hurt Saya — "

"You threatened to hurt her — "

"I was angry, Fordragon!" Onyxia spat. "I was trying to make you see, but you're as blind as you've always been, refusing to see the truth that's in front of your nose."

Bolvar's eyes flashed. He went still.

Onyxia looked down at Saya, whose shaking fit had at last subsided. Saya sniffled quietly as Sabel encouraged her to take a sip from a vial. Onyxia looked away uncomfortably only to find Serinar staring blankly into space, rigid as a post. Nalice's upper lip was twitching in the shadow of a snarl.

"She needs to lie down," said Sabel. "Onyxia, let go of her. Hold her legs up, she's lost too much blood."

Onyxia moved to obey, but Saya whimpered and clung to her. Finally, they had success in shifting Saya to lie upon her bedroll, with Sabel propping her legs up on his pack. Tariona hovered nearby with a look of concern. Onyxia didn't even look at Bolvar. Nalice stood nearby, a blank look on her face. She rubbed her eyes.

"Will she be alright?" said Onyxia.

"She'll forget about it as soon as her mind switches in time," said Sabel. "I suppose there are some benefits to being Bronzeblood, but she'll still feel the aftershock of it. Sugar will help. Serinar, didn't you pick up some oranges last time you were in Sholazar? Where are they? She can suck on one."

"This isn't the place for a child," said Tariona. "Especially one like her."

Onyxia looked down at Saya. She squeezed her eyes shut.

Titans damn her, but there wasn't a better alternative. "You're right. The Old Gods compelled her to act this way. She's as corrupt as the rest of us. They'll only do it again, and this time Jettion might kill her. She can't fight them."

But who was to say Bolvar wouldn't turn on her as soon as Saya was gone? Who was to say he wouldn't turn on Nalice, on the whelplings?

But the whelplings had been hatching. Some of them had already vanished into the caverns in search of food. Some of them would even be in Sholazar by now. Blowing our cover, Onyxia reminded herself.

But they could not stay in the caverns forever.

And neither could Saya, anymore.

They could protect her from cold, they could protect her from danger, but they couldn't protect her from themselves. Onyxia remembered the rigid way Nalice and Serinar had stood over the scene as Jettion tore at his sister; there was little doubt they'd been struggling not to join in.

"Bolvar," said Onyxia.

Eduard's voice sounded exhausted when Bolvar answered. "What?"

"She needs to go back to Stormwind."

Bolvar stared.

Sabel knelt at Saya's side, gently squeezing a peeled orange into Saya's mouth. He looked up. "Given the change of events, that may be wise."

"Well." Nalice snorted. "So the dragonspawn child goes to the city of the enemy. That isn't unwise at all. I thought you wanted your rat to stay alive, Onyxia?"

Sabel hesitated. "She looks human enough. Her looking human will make it harder for any harm to come to her, but that does not guarantee it. Humans turn on each other all the time, but… looking like a human child will help her."

"Varian promised to look after her," said Bolvar.

"From what Sam told me, Varian loathed the child." Sabel reached for another orange. Letting a claw grow from a finger, he peeled the fruit. "Still, it is dubious whether or not she would be safe. Humans hurt their young all the time."

"Varian would never — "

"She's dragonspawn," said Sabel, flatly. "It would be safer for her there, but not safe."

"Varian does not break his promises," said Bolvar. "I can have Eduard get her to Dalaran and returned to Stormwind in hours. She is just a child. She won't be harmed."

That didn't stop the Brotherhood of Cinders, Onyxia thought, looking at Jettion. The whelp looked exhausted as Bolvar set him down.

She could not read Bolvar's face as he watched Saya. Saya had at last refused more orange juice, and was half-cuddled up to Onyxia, her eyes closed.

"We are desperate, Bolvar," said Onyxia. "We need your help. Would I risk putting that in danger?"

"You would, if you didn't care."

"Would I be stashed a hole if I didn't care? I could be fighting with my father, not hiding from him."

Bolvar said nothing.

Nalice spoke instead: "This Flight has no pride anymore."

"Old Gods sow chaos, it's what they do." Serinar hadn't moved since Onyxia had arrived. "I feel calmer, now, but I… definitely felt a surge of anger that was not my own when the child attacked Jettion." Serinar pinched the bridge of his nose. "I did not used to be like this. Long ago, I was much different… Years ago, before — "

"So Old Gods are evil and make you do evil things." Tariona's mouth twisted. "And the point of that is...? What, are they doing this for its own sake?"

"So they can escape." Onyxia remembered a conversation in the dark years ago in Stormwind, a conversation with a certain Bronze named Hora… "It was my father who was made their jailer. When Deathwing dies, if there is no Aspect to replace him, the Heart of Earth the Titans gave him will have no guardian to hold it and they will break free. By throwing Deathwing into the light they're quickening their release. If he takes everyone down with him, that only makes it easier. They have nothing to lose and everything to gain by making everyone on Azeroth fight each other. As you humans like to say... united we stand, divided we..." Onyxia looked down at Saya. Sabel muttered in concern. Onyxia looked back up at Bolvar. "It was what I was supposed to do in Stormwind. Divide the humans. Conquer them. If you fought among yourselves, you wouldn't have been able to defend against us. The more the rich distanced themselves from the poor, the more the poor would rebel against the rich."

"Saya needs a troll's blood potion if we want her to get that lost blood back," said Sabel. "She's not critical, but if I hadn't been here to seal her wound, she would have died. Eduard, can you teleport between the Citadel and Dalaran?"

Bolvar gazed at Onyxia for a long moment, face still unreadable, before he answered Sabel. "I can use his magic as if it was my own. I'll get her some."

And seconds later, he was gone.

Tariona let out a puff of breath. "Well. That was..." A long silence, as it seemed to sink in that she was surrounded by dragons. "... interesting."

"You went up," Sabel looked at Onyxia, "to make that offer anyway. Can you see why I told you not to? After what you did to the dwarf, the draenei and the night elf in the Brotherhood of Cinders when we found them, after you risked us by killing them, can you see why I didn't tell you about him? I knew you'd lose it when you found out."

Onyxia looked back down at Saya. "I was angry, at first."

"At first?"

"Now I see why you did it." She stroked Saya's forehead, again. "There's nothing but blood and gore between us. A dead guild. Dead broods. Dead humans. A dead queen. And now he's going insane, too. He was going insane, before I died, because of me. I only made it easier for the Old Gods to touch him."

"Icecrown Citadel's made of saronite," said Serinar. "Mortals can't wear it for long, let alone live in it. The fact he's still coherent is an accomplishment in itself."

Bolvar, she thought. We need your help to do this. We can't fight the Old Gods alone.

There was no answer, for a moment, nothing but silence.

Then she heard him. Why me?

You control an undead army, said Onyxia. You have the ear of Alexstrasza, do you not? Eduard said...

Not for long, said Bolvar. Things are deteriorating on that front. They are as corrupt as we are.

Soon they will turn on you, too, said Onyxia. I would say you need us, but I don't see how we can help you, to be honest. We can barely help ourselves. But I can give you something, if you help us. When this is all over. I can give you your life back.

Nobody can give me that, said Bolvar.

But I can, said Onyxia. I can Ascend you. Make you Black dragonspawn.

Why would I want that?

Because dragonspawn can shift into whatever they like, said Onyxia. You could go to Stormwind again. You could see your friends again.

The ones you didn't kill? Bolvar said.

Yes, said Onyxia. You could see Anduin. And Varian.

I would be dragonspawn, said Bolvar. They would want nothing to do with me.

If you helped us redeem ourselves, it would not matter, said Onyxia. We want to cleanse ourselves of our taint. You'd be cleansed, too. You've been killing the undead, haven't you? So they wouldn't even need a Lich King, anymore. We could destroy the Helm of Domination with dragon fire. Even if you couldn't go back home... you'd be free of this place. Free to...

She didn't want to say this, didn't want to promise it, but what choice did she have? And she couldn't lie about it. She couldn't refuse to give it once she'd promised it.

But she'd already offered to send Saya to Stormwind.

Free to raise your daughter again, she said. When this is over, if you still want her, still love her…

Bolvar said nothing.

Minutes later, Eduard returned. It was definitely Eduard, this time; the undead was flustered and stammering. "I hope this helps, sir!" he said, throwing himself to his knees beside Sabel and offering a collection of vials. Sabel gently urged Saya to sit up and helped her sip at one. Onyxia supported her back.

"I can't stand this," Serinar growled. "I need air. The walls are closing in. I might just kill someone if I don't get out."

"Melodramatic," Nalice drawled, as Serinar stormed past her.

Eduard continued to babble to Sabel. Inside her head, Onyxia felt as if she was being watched. Considered.

Light help me, said Bolvar. Light help you if you give me cause to regret this. What do you need?

Saya chittered and clutched her uncle's arm, making a face at the medicine she sipped.

I need the undead, said Onyxia. I need them to protect this place. I need frostwyrms to be our eyes and ears, and to hunt for food so the whelplings stop leaving the caverns. I need agents to locate Samia and protect her and the egg. I need agents to go to the Vermillion Redoubt in case she's not fast enough. I need the Ambassador to steal the Eye of the Watchers. I need you to watch our backs as we deal with the Twilight Dragonflight. I need you to watch out for Lirastrasza and Deathwing. I need your magic to give me back my wings. I need everyone in here to get out of this alive. I need you to help me save them.

Bolvar didn't answer for a long time.

Then he said, Fine. I'll help.

For the first time since Stormwind, Onyxia felt a glimmer of hope.