Chapter 22: The Many Faces of the Dragon Kind

The morning in the Trade District of Stormwind is always bustling, but today is remarkably different.

"Step right up, don't miss out! Black Dragon Fertilizer, the miracle of Azerothian agriculture!"

A green-skinned goblin stands atop a stack of fertilizer bags, waving a gold-rimmed megaphone, his voice piercing enough to rupture an eardrum. He wears a comical black-scaled jacket—clearly cheap leather painted over—but the chest is embroidered with an exaggerated dragon-head pattern in gold thread, the dragon’s eyes set with reflective glass beads.

"Exclusive formula! Infused with the essence of Black Dragon! Half a gold per bag, double the harvest!"

The crowd grows larger; farmers, merchants, and even a few Stormwind guards in uniform have gathered around. Seeing this, the goblin immediately tears open a bag, grabs a handful of grayish-white granules, and shakes them in the sunlight.

"Look at this texture! Smell this power!" He takes an exaggeratedly deep breath, even though the scent is more akin to swamp muck mixed with sulfur. "Every grain is blessed by the blood of a Black Dragon!"

"Is that for real?" A weathered human farmer leans in suspiciously. "Dragon blood? Isn't that just a fairy tale?"

"Ha! A fairy tale?" The goblin jumps down from the fertilizer stack, grabs the farmer’s arm, and lowers his voice, though he purposely lets everyone around hear him. "We have an exclusive contract signed with the Black Dragon Princess herself!"

The crowd erupts in a murmur.

In a corner, a gaunt man in a cloak quietly retreats a few steps, fading into the shadows. He is an agent of SI:7, his fingers tracing the seal on a fertilizer bag, memorizing the brand stamped upon it: "Dustwallow Marsh: Blackwing High-Yield Fertilizer."

At the same moment, deep within Dustwallow Marsh, in Onyxia’s Lair.

"They say you're mixing dragon blood into fertilizer?"

Drun laughs so hard he nearly spits out his ale. He shakes the intelligence report just arrived from Stormwind, the paper rustling loudly.

Onyxia leans lazily against her throne, pinching a small amount of fertilizer between her fingertips, letting the granules slide through. A faint, mocking smile touches the corners of her mouth.

"If I truly had that much blood to spare, the farmers of Stormwind would have heard my wailing long ago."

Drun wipes tears of laughter from his eyes, his expression suddenly turning serious. "Still, the more absurd the rumor, the better."

"Oh?" The Black Dragon Princess raises an eyebrow.

"If Deathwing hears that you are 'selling blood to farm,' he will only think you have gone mad, or fallen from grace..." Drun lowers his voice. "He would never suspect that the fertilizer we are actually burying beneath the ground is far more dangerous than mere manure."

Onyxia’s golden slit pupils contract slightly.

Meanwhile, far away at the Ruby Sanctum in Northrend, the Red Dragon Queen Alexstrasza is gently turning a dragon egg with her massive claws. Warm magical energy flows from her fingertips into the shell, and the hatchling inside emits a contented tremor.

"Life is always so wonderful, isn't it?" she says to her consort, Krasus, who stands beside her.

Krasus is about to answer when a smaller red dragon lands on the platform, shifting into the form of a red-haired elf. "Your Majesty," he says, kneeling on one knee, "news from the Eastern Kingdoms, regarding... the black dragon Onyxia."

Alexstrasza pauses. "Onyxia? What plot has she concocted now?"

"Unexpectedly... she has begun selling fertilizer." The elf’s expression is bizarre. "Through goblin merchants, she is selling it on a massive scale across the human kingdoms. It is said the results are stunning, with crop yields increasing by over fifty percent."

The Dragonqueen blinks her enormous amber eyes. "Fertilizer?"

"Yes, a powder that promotes crop growth. But the goblins claim in their advertisements that... it contains the blood of a Black Dragon."

Krasus cannot help but laugh out loud. "Onyxia willing to contribute her own blood for farmers to grow crops? That is even more absurd than saying she has turned vegetarian."

Alexstrasza, however, does not smile. "Anything involving the Black Dragon is worth vigilance, especially when it comes to Neltharion’s daughter." She ponders for a moment. "Continue to observe, but do not alert her. If she truly is just... selling fertilizer..." The Queen’s voice is full of doubt, "...then that is actually a good thing for us."

"Should we send an envoy to investigate?" the elf asks.

"No need," Alexstrasza shakes her head. "Just have our informants among the humans keep an eye on it. For now, the hatching of these eggs is more important." Her gaze turns gentle again as she strokes the egg before her. "Life is always more worthy of attention than death."

In the frigid halls of the Nexus, Malygos, the Blue Dragon Aspect, floats above a pile of magical tomes. His eyes flicker with unstable arcane energy, and the surrounding air warps from the sheer power of his magic.

"Fertilizer?" he repeats the report from his subordinate, his voice like cracking ice. "Is it related to magic?"

The Blue Dragon messenger bows his head. "According to our investigation, no magical fluctuations were detected. It appears to be... a common mineral mixture."

Malygos immediately loses interest. "Then why waste my time?" He waves a claw impatiently. "Unless Onyxia is using magic to disrupt the natural order, she can sell whatever she pleases."

"But, Your Majesty, the goblins claim the fertilizer contains Black Dragon blood—"

"Lies!" Malygos interrupts. "Do you think a black dragon would be that generous?" A glint of madness flashes in his eyes. "Unless... no, impossible. That madman Neltharion would be more likely to use blood to destroy crops than to cultivate them." The Blue Dragon King turns and drifts toward his throne. "Go monitor something of value, like what those mages in Dalaran are up to now."

And deep within the Emerald Dream, Ysera, the Green Dragon Aspect, spirals within a mist of dreams, completely unresponsive to news from the physical world. Her dragon guards hesitate whether to wake the Queen, ultimately deciding to let her continue her slumber.

"It's just the black dragons doing something strange, anyway," a guard mutters to himself. "Better that than them plotting a war."

The golden sands of the Caverns of Time flow ceaselessly, carving countless brilliant trajectories into the void. Each grain carries a moment, a choice, a possible world. And Nozdormu, the Bronze Dragon Aspect—the Guardian of Time—is currently staring at a node in the river of time, his brow furrowed.

There, an image that should not exist is emerging: the Black Dragon Princess Onyxia, standing before a fertilizer factory, personally inspecting a sack stamped with "Blackwing High-Yield Fertilizer."

"Chromie!"

The Aspect’s voice echoes through the cavern, causing the sand to vibrate slightly.

A tiny figure leaps out of a temporal rift, and after the golden light dissipates, she takes the form of a gnome girl with twin pigtails. She brushes off non-existent dust, blinks her large eyes, and tries her best to look innocent.

"You called for me, great Nozdormu?" Chromie tilts her head, her voice as sweet as if she had just stolen honey.

The Dragon Aspect ignores her feigned ignorance and points directly at the image in the time stream.

"Explain." His voice is low, carrying unquestionable majesty. "Why has Onyxia—daughter of Deathwing, scion of the World-Breaker—suddenly taken an interest in agriculture?"

Chromie’s smile stiffens for a moment, but she quickly regains her liveliness.

"Er... well, this..." She scratches her head, her eyes darting around. "Goblins?"

"Goblins?" Nozdormu’s dragon pupils contract slightly.

"Yes! It’s all those greedy goblins!" Chromie suddenly grabs onto the lifeline, speaking rapidly. "They discovered the fertilizer business was profitable, so they hired Onyxia to provide... er... brand endorsement! You know black dragons need gold to sustain their schemes, so she just..."

The Aspect stares at her in silence, his golden pupils reflecting the countless branches of the timeline. Chromie feels cold sweat breaking out on her back.

"You are lying, Chromie." Nozdormu finally speaks, his voice cold as ice. "I can feel it—there is an abnormal fluctuation in the timeline at this node."

He waves his hand, and the image of the time stream suddenly magnifies. Beneath the fertilizer factory, some sort of metallic device is buried deep, and Onyxia and a man (Drun) are whispering to each other.

"There is something there you do not wish to tell me." The Aspect’s gaze is as sharp as a blade.

Chromie’s smile freezes completely.

She knows the real reason, of course—Drun, the Apocalypse-bringer, the founder of the fertilizer enterprise. A variable that should not exist, a temporal anomaly brought about by the Apocalypse. He brought not just fertilizer, but a far more dangerous plan...

But she cannot say.

At least, not right now.

"Perhaps... it is just a tiny variable?" she tests, trying to make her voice sound light. "The kind that doesn't affect the big picture? You know the River of Time always has little ripples..."

Nozdormu does not answer immediately. His gaze pierces through Chromie, as if peering directly into her soul.

After a long while, he finally sighs.

"Continue to observe." The Aspect’s voice is low and grave. "If Onyxia’s actions begin to affect important temporal nodes, I want to know immediately."

"As you command, great Guardian of Time!" Chromie bows deeply, secretly relieved.

But as Nozdormu turns and fades into the flow of time, her expression instantly collapses. Yet, soon after, she begins to hum a happy tune. Her private stash has just increased by several hundred gold coins—all dividends from Drun.

In Deepholm, the bowels of the earth churn with searing magma. In the center of this realm infused with elemental power, a massive black shadow flickers within the lava. Its scales are like flowing magma, its body embedded with plates of elementium, radiating a suffocating pressure.

Deathwing—formerly the black dragon Aspect Neltharion, now the Betrayer of the Earth-Warder—is immersed in fantasies of destruction. Suddenly, a cowardly voice interrupts his thoughts.

"Great Master..." A Twilight Dragon servant kneels in the distance, not daring to approach the churning lava pool.

"Speak!" Deathwing’s voice sounds like a roar from the deep earth.

"News regarding your daughter... Princess Onyxia..."

Deathwing’s body rises from the magma, his elementium armor glowing dark red in the high heat. "What trouble has that disappointing, rebellious daughter caused now?"

"Rumors are spreading everywhere that she... she has begun to cooperate with humans to produce fertilizer, selling it throughout the Eastern Kingdoms..."

"Fertilizer?" Deathwing’s voice suddenly becomes dangerously calm. "You mean... manure, used to grow crops? Shouldn't she be in Stormwind, impersonating a noblewoman?"

The Twilight Dragon servant trembles even harder. "Y-yes, Master. It is said the results are excellent; humans and goblins are fighting to buy it..."

"She dares!" Deathwing’s roar shakes the entire cavern, and rubble falls from the rock walls. "I granted her the blood of the Black Dragon, not so she could become a farmer!"

Magma churns violently around him, and scorching flames erupt from the gaps in his elementium armor. "Where is she?"

"Possibly, possibly, perhaps in Du... Dustwallow Marsh."

Shadows converge around him, and the magma-like patterns on his skin shrink, finally transforming into a tall, middle-aged man. His black hair is streaked with strands of dark red, like cooling lava, and his eyes—still burning with golden slit pupils of destruction.

"It is time... to teach this rebellious daughter a lesson."

He raises his hand to tear through space and steps into the shadows.

Before the last flicker of fire dies out, a cold sneer echoes through the abyss.

"Fertilizer? I shall see what kind of game she is playing."