And as he thought of that eruption, the red dragon saw with disbelief the flow recede as if some great force sucked it back into the depths of the mount. Wherever there was a crevasse or some other opening through which it had originally flowed, the molten rivers returned.

The eruption was stirred by her power.... Without her, it is receding, for it should have never been in the first place. The magic of the black dragonflight amazed the red dragon and he yearned for the era when once that flight had been friends and allies, not a threat.

But that day has long past. Indeed, we are in some ways very much into the night for our kind....

Shaking off such thoughts, Korialstrasz banked. He descended to the others... and as he neared, the red dragon saw what he had feared might happen.

The others surrounded the draenei, who lay on her back. The priestess still clutched the staff, which glowed ever so faintly, though from what source now, the descending Korialstrasz could not say.

Kalec leaned over her, the blue running his hands above her face and heart. He looked upset and as Korialstrasz transformed into Krasus, the blue muttered a name. Anveena.

The dragon mage immediately touched Kalec's shoulder, whispering, "I am sorry. What she did once, she can do no more. Now, Anveena is with you alone."

"I'd rather that she could save Iridi—"

"Fate apparently says otherwise...."

The draenei must have heard Krasus's voice even though he tried to be quiet. Her eyes opened and turned to him.

"It—it's over?"

"Yes, Iridi," Krasus responded, kneeling by her side. "Hush. There is a chance that if I take you with me now, my queen can save you—"

She coughed. "No...my...my quest...it ends here..." The priestess smiled. "With Zzeraku...praise be to his part in ending this...." Another cough followed, this one harsher. "Azeroth... Azeroth is a world of.. .of marvels...but I miss...I find I miss Outland...even with...even with so much struggle...there...I wish...I wish I could..."

She trailed off. Her head fell to the side, the eyes still open. Her grip on the staff failed.

The naaru's gift rolled away with a clatter, the last of its light gone forever. Vereesa started for it, only to have the staff shrivel as if a living thing suddenly desiccated. In mere moments, there was nothing left but a gray, powdery pile vaguely shaped like the original staff.

The four stood quiet for a moment, honoring the draenei for her sacrifice.

"Shall we bury her here?" asked Rhonin, finally breaking the silence.

Kalec reached for the body. His voice shaking, he said, "No. I'll take her there. She deserves that."

Krasus knew exactly where he intended to go. "Is that wise? Will you be permitted by Malygos?"

"Permitted or not by my lord, I'll take her to Outland. That's what she wanted." Carrying Iridi In his arms, the blue transformed. As he stretched his wings, he bowed his head to Rhonin and Vereesa. "I'm honored to have met you both... and am more than a little envious." To Krasus, the blue added. "I understand you better now. I don't agree with all you do, but I understand why you do it...."

Krasus bowed back to the blue dragon. "She will always be proud of you, Kalecgos."

"I still prefer Kalec. She preferred Kalec."

"Then, fare you well, Kalec... and thank you for what you have done...."

The blue dragon rose into the dark sky. Kalec circled over the other three for a moment, then headed in the direction that Krasus knew would eventually lead him to the portal to Outland.

At that moment, they were approached by Grenda and some of her warriors. She saluted the trio with her ax. "I've accounted for everyone." To Rhonin, the female dwarf hesitantly added, "As for the raptors...I don't know about 'em."

Rhonin chuckled. "I'll deal with that situation. With things calming down around Grim Batol, they should be happy to remain around Raptor Ridge and not encroach on Menethil Harbor. Keep apart and things should be calmer."

Grenda snorted. "Don't know how well that'll actually work... and is that damned mount really calm finally? Have we seen the last of its evil?"

"That shall remain to be seen," Krasus interjected. "But for the moment, at least the dreams of Deathwing are at an end. When Sintharia perished, the spells protecting the chamber of the eggs would have failed. The receding flow will have destroyed them."

"Then our mission's done," Grenda decided. With a slight hesitation, she added, "We head back to our people come morning, there to report to the king and to honor our dead... especially Rom."

Krasus frowned. "Tell your king that the red flight will also honor your fallen warriors, uncluding my comrade of old."

She brightened. "That will mean much for his memory...."

The dragon mage turned to Rhonin and Vereesa. "You would be with your children as soon as possible, would you not?"

The wizard and high elf nodded. "We'll rest until morning," Rhonin replied, "then I should be able to bring us back there...and spend a little time before I need to return to Dalaran."

The red-haired spellcaster said nothing more and his expression indicated that Krasus would hear nothing from him as to what was being planned in the shielded city.

"Your lives and your choices are yours," he told the couple, but especially Rhonin. "I am only grateful for your aid here and... and for your continued friendship."

"You will always have that," Vereesa said.

Krasus pulled himself together for one more spell. "And as a friend, allow me this..."

The wizard and the high elf vanished.

"They are home with their children," the dragon mage responded to Grenda's dumbfounded expression. "I may be able to send some of your people in such a manner if given time to recuperate—"

But the dwarves all shook their heads. With an anxious grin, their leader answered, "If it's all the same to you, great one, we of the earth folk prefer solid footin' under us!"

That made him smile. "Of course. The ground is to you as the sky is to me. I understand very much." He stepped back from Grenda. "I leave you, then. May your axes be sharp and your tunnels strong...."

The Bronzebeards went down on one knee as Krasus again changed into his true form. As Korialstrasz, he dipped his head inhomage to the dwarves' own deeds, then leapt into the sky.

Once there, Korialstrasz arced not away from Grim Batol, but toward it. He passed over the damaged mount, marveling that, despite Sintharia's eruption, from beyond its walls Grim Batol looked more or less as it always had.

It perseveres, this place. It always perseveres.

He concentrated as best he could, seeking to assure himself that what he had told the others was true. Korialstrasz surveyed as much of Grim Batol's interior as possible, sensing only emptiness and that same residual evil that had permeated it for centuries.

And of the area where the chamber of the eggs would have been located, the red dragon sensed utter ruination. As he had said, without Sintharia, it had no longer been protected. Perhaps an egg or two had survived the destruction, but even the myatis coating he had seen on them would not be enough. Dargonax was the last of the twilight dragons.

Korialstrasz turned in the direction of home. He, too, missed his family. It was time to return there for awhile before again renewing his eternal vigil over Azeroth....

And behind him, Grim Batol sat as silent and as still...as death.

Yet far, far below the dread mount—deeper than even Sintharia had ever gone—it was not completely still. In the sunless cavern, a huge form finally moved about. The intruders were all gone. It was safe to begin.

Around him were gathered the eggs that Sintharia had thought sealed in her special cavern and that the accursed red dragon believed were now destroyed. There were many places to store them down here, many places to keep them viable until things were ready.