• Ceruleagos sat upon the balcony of a tavern deep in the park of Stormwind, her legs swinging idly over the ledge. Her robes fluttered in the gentle breeze, as she gazed up at the night sky before her. Years of her vast lifespan had been spent alongside these mortals, letting herself be guided by them and assisting when her services were called upon. Her scales were dull and her body with scars to protect them when they made their mistakes, her magic limited due to the amount of time she spent with them instead of studying, and worst of all? Her body cursed by the Timeless One for one simple man she met being a mortal.

    All for naught, as she watched the sky's color fade into a violet shade as the city was encased in a powerful bond of magic. It would only be a matter of time before they figured her out and then what was she to do? No one could swoop in to save her this time, as she watched the shade harden. The magic the Kirin Tor were using somehow conflicted with the Dragonkin's own methods, it would be very tricky to break. Even if she had an idea of how to break past it and sneak out, she had no power behind those thoughts. All she had was a beautiful set of armor, some hooves, and a little bark to go with the bite. The magnificence of being a Dragon was sacrificed long ago and all that remained was an empty shell of a Draenei priestess.

    The sweeps would start soon and that was when it would get difficult. The mages used powerful wards to detect where Dragonkin were or anything suspicious, they were bound to find her easily. They had already acquired a whelpling that some dwarves snuck in, the cries of the child shattering to Ceru's heart.

    Thousands of years work gone at the battle cry of her Aspect. Ceru remained torn in her thoughts of that. On one hand, she would love to protect the sanctity of their world and remove mortals who abused power. On the other, it wasn't their charge to selfishly hold magic. It was to govern it, to make sure those who wield it did so for all the right reasons. All the time Ceru spent with the mortals proved to her that a majority were good-hearted, so why did the Spellweaver call for such destruction? Why call out for war..?

    She'd give a sigh and flip around on the balcony, letting her legs touch the wooden flooring. A couple of steps away and she'd look back towards the sky, one last look of desperation across her face. Someone out there had to care, right? Someone might have remembered her and the sacrifices she made.

    There would be no signs of a knight in shining armor rushing on his steed to save her. Instead, Ceruleagos was greeted with the cry of "In the tavern!" in the distance.

    Mortality never meant much to her in the past after the first death, due to her lover's good care. Her hand clutched around her neck, greeted with nothing. No pendant from Nallaen to resurrect her, no sign of her kinship, and no reminder of what was in the past.

    The thought was enough to frighten others to lose their minds, but Ceruleagos was going to die alone. A peaceful smile spread across her face as all felt right in the world.