Chromie stood amidst suspended grains of temporal sand, her pigtails floating weightlessly, hourglass staff tilted as it projected a blurry image into the void—the scene showed Deren and Onyxia standing to one side, covering their noses while watching goblin laborers load buckets of yellow-white material onto carts. The goblin Grozzle rubbed his hands nearby, face split in a greedy grin.
"As you can see, Lord Nozdormu—" Chromie cleared her throat, forcing her voice to remain light. "The disturbance in this temporal tributary completely conforms to the Goblin Commercial Behavior Fluctuation Model!" She waved her hand with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Just a bunch of green-skinned merchants suddenly getting inspired to mass-produce high-efficiency organic fertilizer!"
A low draconic rumble emanated from the void. A face formed from temporal sand slowly materialized—Nozdormu, the Bronze Aspect's eyes like two miniature stars, quietly observing her.
"Fertilizer production can cause such violent spacetime ripples?"
Cold sweat beaded on Chromie's neck, but her smile remained plastered in place. "Of course! Have you forgotten last year when the Bilgewater Cartel tried making perfume from felhound waste? That incident caused three timeline collapses!" She frantically pulled up another image—goblins cheering around barrels emitting green smoke. "See! Traditional goblin innovation! Nothing unusual!"
Nozdormu's expression remained unreadable, his gaze causing the surrounding temporal sand to slow and freeze.
"Why is the Black Dragon Princess involved?"
"Well..." Chromie's eyes darted around nervously. "Onyxia has been infiltrating Stormwind too long. Perhaps she picked up strange human noble habits? Like investing in agriculture?" She suddenly clapped. "Right! Deathwing has grown even madder recently, has he not? Maybe she is finding herself an exit strategy, preparing to change careers!"
A longer silence stretched between them.
Finally, the temporal sand resumed flowing. Nozdormu's voice carried weary compromise. "Continue observing. If timeline deviation fluctuations are detected again..."
"Understood! I will report immediately!" Chromie stood rigidly at attention, nearly poking her staff into her own ear.
Only after the Bronze Aspect's form completely dissipated did she exhale deeply, collapsing onto a floating temporal fragment. Deren's fertilizer, black dragon agriculture—how am I supposed to explain this away?! Chromie angrily tugged at her hair. Great, I am on a pirate ship now. Told one lie, now I have to weave even more. If the boss discovers I have been deceiving him all along... I really do not know how he will punish me.
She buried her face in her hands with a muffled groan.
Meanwhile, Deren spread a yellowed Azeroth map across the table, his finger tapping various locations thoughtfully. "We need somewhere sufficiently remote, no dragon faction presence, and no Alliance or Horde patrols..."
Onyxia's eyes lit up, her dragon tail—though disguised as an elf, she still unconsciously swayed when emotional—excitedly slapping the floor. "The Dustwallow Marsh!"
Deren's quill dropped with a clatter. "What?"
"My lair is there!" The Black Dragon Princess proudly lifted her chin, as if proposing the most brilliant idea imaginable. "The place is large enough, with ready-made facilities, and the dragonkin servants can help—"
Deren covered his face, squeezing words through his fingers. "Your subordinates—if your father or brother casually asks questions, would they keep secrets for you?"
Onyxia's smile froze.
"Uh..." Her tail slowly drooped. "No."
The Black Dragon Princess scratched her hair indignantly—the gesture made her look more like a sulking maiden than Deathwing's infamous daughter. She suddenly slapped the table again. "The Badlands! Nothing but rocks there; even goblins avoid it!"
Deren sighed, using his pen tip to indicate Lethlor Ravine on the map. "You forgot who lives there?"
"Who?" Onyxia blinked innocently.
"Your family's black dragon whelp training grounds."
"Oh." Her pointed ears beneath the illusion twitched and drooped. "Right."
After a moment of silence, Onyxia suddenly perked up again, tail springing upright. "Elwynn Forest!" She declared confidently. "I often hunt there when disguised as Lady Prestor! Lots of cover, familiar terrain, and—"
Deren already had his forehead pressed against the table, emitting a muffled groan. "Stormwind's heroes patrol there daily. Do you want us surrounded by Varian's troops the moment we light the fuse?"
Onyxia's proud expression crumbled. She pouted, fingers unconsciously scratching the table corner—the hard oak showed claw marks beneath her nails. She muttered quietly, "Humans are so troublesome."
Deren rubbed his temples, pointing to Kalimdor on the western continent. "Actually, Feralas might work. Ogres and night elf ruins, even goblins—"
"Too far!" Onyxia suddenly interrupted, puffing her cheeks like an indignant child. "Flying there takes an entire day! My scales will dry out from the sea wind!"
Deren fell silent, staring at her.
The Black Dragon Princess seemed to realize her lapse, quickly straightening her posture to resume a haughty expression—though her reddened ear tips betrayed her. She stared at the map intently, then suddenly scratched a scorch mark with her nail. "Then here."
Deren looked down—the Swamp of Sorrows.
"No dragon lair," she said stiffly. "No heroes, just crocodiles and oozes... That should work, right?"
Deren finally smiled. "Almost perfect."
Onyxia turned her head with a huff, though her tail swayed gently with satisfaction.
"But there is a temple complex there," Deren scratched his head. "Those ancient places attract attention. A black dragon causing explosions might draw unwanted eyes. Does not feel entirely safe."
Onyxia's tail stopped mid-swing, drooping again in disappointment.
Inside the stone house, the oil lamp's flame flickered yellowish, casting their shadows across mottled walls. Deren's finger traced the map, finally stopping at a sea area northwest of Booty Bay—several scattered islands marked there, like casually tossed stones floating in the Reef Sea's waves.
"Here." He tapped the drawing, fingertip resting on the ink-drawn coastline. "The Reef Sea, southeast of Westfall."
Onyxia crossed her arms, leaning against the table edge, silver hair falling over her shoulders and shimmering faintly in the lamplight. She leaned in slightly, dragon eyes sweeping over that sea area, eyebrow raised skeptically.
"Bloodsail Buccaneers territory?" Her voice carried clear contempt, as if discussing a swarm of irritating mosquitoes.
Deren nodded, his lips curving into a cunning smile. "Occasionally a few ships wander through, but it's basically deserted at night." He paused. "And even if they hear explosions, they will assume some unlucky vessel hit the reefs—hardly uncommon in those waters."
Onyxia's tail tip swayed lightly despite her elven disguise, clearly interested in this proposal.
"Most importantly—" Deren lowered his voice, leaning forward conspiratorially, "you can fly there directly. No need to bother with boats."
Onyxia's lips curved up imperceptibly, but she quickly tightened her expression, snorting haughtily. "Reasonably clever."
Deren grinned, revealing his chipped front tooth. "Moreover, we can act at night and return at dawn." He pointed to several small islands on the map. "Pick any uninhabited one, conduct the test, and leave. No one will ever know."
Onyxia stared at those islands, dragon eyes slightly contracting as she mentally traced flight routes. After a long moment, she finally nodded. "Fine. We will do as you say."
Deren breathed a sigh of relief, about to roll up the map, when she suddenly reached out to press his wrist, sharp nails lightly indenting his skin.
"But if you dare waste my time—" her voice dropped low, carrying draconic resonance, "I will throw you into the sea to feed the fish."
Deren blinked. Rather than frightened, he smiled even more brilliantly. "Do not worry, Princess. This time will definitely satisfy you."
Onyxia narrowed her eyes, seemingly judging the truth in his words. Finally, she released him, turning toward the window. Moonlight outlined her slender silhouette in silver.
Night deepened over Booty Bay. Lights gradually extinguished throughout the port town, moonlight flowing like liquid silver across stone roads. Deren carried a large pack filled with specially prepared ammonium nitrate mixtures, standing at the coastal cliff's edge, unable to hide his excitement. The night wind lifted his bangs, revealing eyes particularly bright in the darkness.
Before him, Onyxia had assumed her true black dragon form, scales absorbing moonlight rather than reflecting it, making her nearly invisible against the night sky.
"This time, do not suddenly dive like before," he patted the black dragon's scales, his tone carrying familiar teasing. "After all, the Princess would not want me losing control of bodily functions."
Onyxia's dragon eyes contracted dangerously in the moonlight. Her slender neck tensed, wisps of black smoke seeping between scales. "Keep babbling and I will drop you." Yet her dragon body obediently flattened somewhat, making it easier for him to climb aboard.
The moment Deren's fingers touched the cold scales, he heard suppressed dragon breathing above. He could feel muscles beneath his palm trembling slightly—not from fatigue, but from forcibly restrained fury. Allowing a human to ride remained an unbearable humiliation for the Black Dragon Princess.
"To deal with Deathwing," Onyxia suddenly spoke, her voice squeezed through her teeth. This sentence was both an explanation to Deren and an admonition to herself.
Deren's movement paused. He gazed at the black dragon's tense spine, then laughed softly. "Relax. Just carrying a partner to complete necessary work. We are a team—neither of us succeeds without the other."
"Hmph!" A low draconic rumble expressed reluctant acceptance.
"Hold tight." Onyxia ground out two words. When her wings suddenly spread, the downdraft choked back all of Deren's unspoken jokes.
Night wind roared past them. Deren's startled exclamation shattered in the clouds. He gripped dragon scales tightly, letting the salty sea wind fill his clothes, as if embracing the entire starry sky. Every scale beneath him spoke of resistance, yet steadily carried him through clouds—this contradictory obedience pleased him more than any words. Their partnership grew stronger with each shared moment.
After more than ten minutes of flight, islands of various sizes occasionally flashed across the dark sea surface below, matching the map markings perfectly.
"Left! That island shaped like a turtle shell!" Deren shouted near the bone ridge behind the black dragon's ear, warm breath spraying across sensitive scales.
Onyxia suddenly barrel-rolled, deliberately letting Deren slam hard against her neck scales from inertia. "Keep giving random directions, and I will drop you like a bomb."
Deren laughed despite the impact, hugging her neck tightly. His fingertips inadvertently brushed a reverse scale. The black dragon's entire body stiffened, wings nearly forgetting to beat.
"Sorry!" He stretched the word insincerely, though he smirked in the shadows where she could not see. Moonlight illuminated the dark flush at the dragon's ear base—even the proud Black Dragon Princess could be flustered by such contact.
When the deserted island's outline appeared on the horizon, Onyxia dove almost eagerly. The moment her claws touched sandy ground, she transformed back to elf form, silver hair disheveled over her shoulders, cheeks flushed unnaturally bright.
"Next time," she viciously grabbed Deren's collar, "I am putting a muzzle on you."
Deren blinked innocently. "So the Princess enjoys that kind of—"
An elbow strike turned his remaining joke into a pained grunt. Onyxia whirled toward the island's center, unable to hide her burning ear tips. Moonlight cast her shadow across the beach—her illusory form couldn't quite hide that restless dragon tail irritably slapping the ground.
Deren rubbed his stomach and stood, watching her retreating back with a satisfied grin. Cooperating with the Black Dragon Princess was truly dangerous, thrilling, and exactly the kind of partnership he needed to survive in Azeroth's treacherous world.