BEYOND THE STARS

PARALLAX

QUEST OBJECTIVE: Don't inhale too much perfume.

— K A R A Z H A N —

Tense silence crawled over Eona's skin. No one dared to break it. Everyone stared at Khadgar's face, covered in welts. She cringed as she looked at them.

Stupid voices in my head. I should've focused on him instead. If I had stayed at his side, perhaps I wouldn't have listened. Or the dreadlord wouldn't have snuck up on him...

The Archmage's blue eyes fluttered open. Three dragons stared back at him, heaving sighs of relief.

"I'm fine," he rasped. "Cool as a cucumber."

Eona made her way around the bed to embrace him. Kalec followed, drawing an arm around both of them from behind.

Wrathion remained seated at the end of Khadgar's bed. With his poise and his legs crossed, he rivaled the refinery of statues.

"Come on," said Eona. She nodded her head at Wrath.

Her brother (in title only) scoffed. "I suppose you'll stab me in the back with your pointed fingers."

Kalec sighed. "Just shut up and hug us. No one's pointing any fingers."

Wrathion didn't move. "Where is your 'I told you so, Wrathion!'? The lecture of common sense? Why on earth did I release Garrosh, and unleash a chain of events that would torment each of us?"

"What happened in Draenor, stays in Draenor," rasped Khadgar. "You're not the first one to plan for something and have it backfire. You tried to prevent this very moment — intentions mean something, too. It means you care."

Wrathion growled in his throat, as if the accusation that he had pleasant thoughts toward another being were blasphemous. No one was pleased with Wrathion for releasing Garrosh — Eona certainly wasn't. But, as far gone as the orc from Outland was at the end, it comforted her in an odd way that Wrathion would try to twist Garrosh's existence into something good. Like the orc he had been, before he ever met Thrall.

Ever so slowly, the black dragon inched to their side of the bed. They yanked him into their arms.

"Satisfied?" said Wrathion. His words were muffled by Kalec's armpit. "This side of the room could use some perfume."

"I think you've brought over enough. My eyes are burning."

Khadgar sighed heavily beneath the pile of dragons. They broke apart. Wrathion was the first to retreat, browsing the bookshelves nearby. Kalec busied himself by brewing tea with a simple flick of his wrist. Eona sat across from Khadgar, waiting for him to ask questions that she dreaded the answers to.

"What happened at the Broken Shore?" said Khadgar.

Eona grimaced. That was probably the worst one he could've asked.

"You mean the worst beach party Azeroth ever saw?" Wrathion muttered into an open book. Eona noticed her brother's eyes didn't drift side to side; they stayed fixed on Khadgar.

"What?" said Khadgar, looking from face to face.

Kalec handed Khadgar a cup of tea that smelled strongly of chamomile. He took his place behind Eona, squeezing her shoulder with his hand. They exchanged a quick look. Kalec's expression reminded Eona of when he called Khadgar old.

He's not some fragile old man. But...no one would want to hear this.

"I used my hearthstone to take us here," Eona recalled. She studied the patchwork quilt tucked around Khadgar, tracing the squares of rosy pinks and corals with her eyes. "Chromie healed your wounds."