Krasus had no argument. The farther into the depths of Grim Batol, the less likely that anyone would find the bodies. The disappearances would still be noted, but there would be some question of what had happened, buying the escapees precious seconds.

Gritting his teeth from effort, Kalec used his magic to tip the first dragonspawn into the pit, then joined Krasus In disposing of the second in the same manner. It was not until the second slipped over the edge that they heard the first strike bottom.

Kalec smiled grimly. "That definitely should be deep enough."

Krasus nodded, but felt even more unsettled somehow. Suddenly he wanted to be very far from this chamber.

The other dragon noticed. "What is it?"

"This is no unused chamber..." the red pulled his younger counterpart from the edge of the pit. "That second cry... It had to be from somewhere near to here, Kalec."

"And so?"

The unsettled feeling magnified. Krasus felt as if something lurked all around them, watching, judging.

His eyes narrowed as he studied the darkness of the pit again. "Come! Hurry!"

There came a low, ominous sound that shook both to their core. It was a laugh filled with the promise of terrible things, terrible things that even dragons could not face.

From out of the pit arose tendrils of energy a dark and foreboding amethyst in hue. The monstrous waves of purple illumination were not an attack in itself, but presaged something terrible to come.

Kalec suddenly slipped. His body slid back, heading toward the pit as if pulled by an invisible hand. Krasus seized him, then pulled. At the same time, he felt something trying to drag him over as well.

"Leave me!" the blue shouted. "Leave me!"

"Never!"

Kalec's feet tipped over the edge. Despite his best efforts, Krasus doubted that he would be able to save either of them.

Something tugged hard on the blue dragon.

Krasus could not maintain his grip.

With a shout, Kalec vanished into the sinister light below.

Krasus felt himself also dragged closer to oblivion. The edge of his feet crossed. He knew that in another breath, he would join the unfortunate blue.

And then... Just as suddenly as it started, the threat vanished. The sense that something huge was about to rise up over the edge of the pit ceased. The dark amethyst glow winked out.

Gasping, Krasus dragged himself away from the pit. He did not go far, though, still hopeful that Kalec might have somehow survived. The red crouched, then concentrated his will on the pit—

A powerful burst from the other end of the chamber sent him flying through the air. He collided with the far wall. Half-dazed, Krasus slid to the floor.

Sinestra loomed above him. She was terrible to behold, all pretense of propriety gone.

"You are troublesome," Deathwing's consort quietly declared.

She held up a small container, a dread thing with four sloping sides that appeared to have been made from black and fire-red crystals that pulsated in what seemed a perfect imitation of breathing. The front side was the narrowest, the two flanking it longest. The lid bore a pattern of alternating crystals shaped to form a symbol that matched the shape of the box and, to Krasus's horror, identified its origins and use. The symbol represented a volcano, the ancient mark of the power of the earth...and the black flight, whose master had created it.

It was a chrysalun chamber....

Sinestra slid back the lid halfway—as far as it could actually move—revealing a v-shaped gap barely large enough to allow for a nut or some other tiny tidbit.

Krasus raised a hand before him in what he knew was a feeble attempt to stave off the inevitable.

The chrysalun chamber swallowed the dragon mage whole. The lid then slid shut of its own accord and the crystals began their slow, steady breathing again.

Tucking the artifact under her arm, Sinestra turned to the pit. She peered over the edge.

Dargonax stirred.

"You have been naughty," she murmured to her creation, her ultimate child. "Such a waste! I will have to find a proper punishment for you..."

"Forgivvveee..." a ghostly voice—like that of the wind on a chill day—replied from below.

"Your first word!" Her anger dissipated. "Your first word... how delightful... you are almost all grown up now..."

Sinestra glanced at the chrysalun chamber, then into the pit again. After another moment of thought, she laughed and carried the magical prison off.

Her child was almost ready to leave the creche. There was much to prepare.

The landscape where Vereesa and the dwarves had been captured lay deathly quiet. The fissures remained open and from them sulfuric gases continued to rise.

A pair of strong, leather boots made only slight sounds as another newcomer to Grim Batol looked over the ravaged scene. He shook his head, then went in search for something in particular that lay among the ruined earth.

It was here, somewhere. He sensed it, sensed it as well as if it were a part of him... or her.

The evil that was the dread mount did not go unfelt by him. There were things even now that should be watching his every move, but they could not because they had been told by him to look other ways, at other things.

He had come prepared for the worst, and the worst he had found. Still, with him were not only his own tricks, but some added strength passed on to him by others. It was ironic that he, once reviled, now could ask for them what he needed and they would give it to him.

But then, so much had changed. It was for him interesting to think that one of the most consistent factors in Azeroth was that Grim Batol would be filled with menace. There was almost a twisted comfort in that knowledge.

Suddenly, he detected the nearby presence of that which he sought. A shiver ran through him as he pondered the impending discovery. There was a limp shape right near where the object should be. Could that shape belong to—

Never one to care for proprieties, he ran for all he was worth to the body.

"Praise be!" he hissed. It was not her, merely an oddly-shaped mound of upturned rock and dirt.

But underneath it was that which sent his heart pounding. He lifted up the talisman. The broken chain dangled limply. After all the care that he had put into remaking it so that it would keep them tied together no matter what the distance, it had now proved as useful as any one of the rocks that made up the landscape here.

He looked around again, but there was no sign of her. No sign of his Vereesa.

The wizard Rhonin swore.

The nether dragon was near. Iridi could sense him better than almost any other creature around her. After all, were they not both strangers to this world? Had they both not come to here from Outland?

Now that she was so close, the draenei asked herself what she expected of the nether dragon. Did she think it would be grateful to see her? Draenei had never been friends to the nether dragons any more than other races. For all Iridi knew, it was just as likely to eat her.

But something within insisted that the priestess try to reach the creature.

Pressed against a wall, her training making her seem almost invisible to the skardyn, Iridi peered around the next corner. A vast cavern opened up before her and in it crawled the savage dwarves in large numbers. They scrambled up the walls, clung from the ceiling, or scampered over the floor, all to keep, in her estimation, their sole prisoner from moving so much as an inch.

So astounding was the nether dragon's prison that the draenei almost walked out and stared. She had wondered how they could keep the great beast secure once it was freed from the terrible box and now she knew. The strands of energy choked the nether dragon as if the leviathan were corporeal like her or the skardyn. They looked almost flimsy, yet it was clear that their power was incredible.