With the physical strength and endurance of a dragon, flying directly across the Great Sea was no issue.
Watching Nefarian take off with Sintharia on his back, Andreas turned his gaze toward the Black Dragon Princess, who had stayed behind as a liaison.
He proactively extended a hand and offered a friendly smile. "Princess Onyxia, though we had some minor unpleasantness in the past, we are allies now. Let those past misunderstandings drift away with the wind."
"Heh~"
Onyxia twitched the corners of her mouth, her voice dripping with irony and a hollow smile. "I'm not as 'open-minded' as you. After all, you weren't the one who suffered back then."
Andreas sighed inwardly, a bitter smile in his heart. It's been centuries; is she really still holding that grudge?
Then again, a few hundred years might just be the equivalent of a long nap for a dragon in her growth phase. Looking at Onyxia's disgruntled expression, she seemed to remember very clearly the time Andreas had forced his way into her temporary lair.
Scratching his head, Andreas changed the subject. "Fair enough. Misunderstandings usually stem from a lack of familiarity. I hope that during your stay in Moonshadow's Rest, you'll gradually change your bad impression of me."
"By the way, do you have any special requirements for your residence? For instance... should it be carpeted with treasures?"
"Hmph!"
Onyxia let out a cold snort of displeasure. "I've told you before, don't be misled by your trashy street literature. Dragons aren't obsessed with treasure; at most, we are just curious."
"Is that so?"
Andreas smiled half-heartedly as he pulled a pair of cyan plate-mail bracers from his spatial backpack. The magical fluctuations emanating from them were quite strong, clearly marking them as a piece of high-quality magical equipment.
"I found quite a few precious weapons and armors in your fath—Deathwing's lair, you know."
Onyxia turned her head away dismissively. "That was just his personal hobby. It has nothing to do with me."
This girl is really difficult to deal with...
Clicking his tongue privately, Andreas kept the smile on his face. "In other words, a manor fit for a mortal will suffice for the Princess?"
"Do as you see fit. I'm not picky about my den."
Onyxia walked coldly into the two-way portal that had not yet closed, returning to Moonshadow's Rest on the other side ahead of Andreas.
Leticia, following behind Andreas, looked indignant. "What's with that attitude? It was the same with Azuregos last time. Are all dragons this impolite?"
Andreas patted her head dismissively. "Stay calm. Dragons are, after all, the guardians personally appointed by the Titans. Their strength truly exceeds that of ordinary mortals; it's natural for them to feel superior."
Leticia curled her lip in annoyance. "They seem pretty average to me. At least this so-called Black Dragon Princess doesn't seem that strong."
Andreas chuckled to soothe her. "She's not an adult yet. When I saw her a few hundred years ago, Her Highness was just a chubby little whelp."
...
Several hundred years had passed, and Onyxia had grown into her drake form, allowing her to achieve an initial mortal shapeshift.
A whelp was barely larger than a domestic dog and carried zero deterrent force, but a drake was different.
Aside from the lack of horns—the hallmark of an adult—a drake's size was only one notch smaller than an adult dragon, comparable to the Chimaeras that formed the core of Moonshadow's Rest's air force.
When the three black dragons had first traveled to Moonshadow's Rest, it was Onyxia who had carried her brother and mother.
To maintain contact with Sintharia and Nefarian through unique black dragon channels at any time, Onyxia had been reluctantly left behind by her mother to serve as a liaison.
In truth, this was also the Dragon Queen's way of protecting her daughter.
If the unknown blue dragon truly turned out to be Malygos, a rookie drake like Onyxia would be unable to assist her mother and brother in battle; instead, she would likely become Malygos's primary target.
After all, it was human nature—and dragon nature—to pick the "softest persimmon" first.
This time, Onyxia was not accompanied by the Dragonspawn guards Andreas had seen last time. After all, these three black dragons had essentially sneaked out from the rest of their flight.
Although Onyxia claimed to have no requirements for her residence, her current status was equivalent to an ambassador for the Black Dragonflight's resistance. Andreas couldn't simply find a run-down shack for her.
After returning to Moonshadow's Rest, Andreas consulted with Shandris and Maclay. They ultimately decided to house Onyxia in the northern suburbs, far from the city center's core.
Judging by the cold, indifferent gaze Onyxia used when looking at mortals, it was clear that while she wasn't corrupted, she had still been influenced by Deathwing's way of doing things. To avoid conflicts with neighbors, placing her on the outskirts of the urban area was the most appropriate choice.
The haughty and cold Onyxia of today bore no resemblance to the Black Dragon Princess in Andreas's memories.
As a veteran World of Warcraft player, his memory of Onyxia was still fixed on her charming Bolvar, causing chaos in the Kingdom of Stormwind, and eventually having her head cut off by "adventurers" and hung at the city gates.
Based on those performances, the mortal form of Onyxia should be a stunningly beautiful woman with immense personal charisma, perhaps even a master of enchantment.
While the physical features of Night Elves and Humans were not identical, Onyxia's looks were certainly top-tier; the issue lay in her temperament.
Onyxia had waist-length, flowing black hair—a rarity among Night Elves.
Unlike Sintharia's modest style of dress, Onyxia chose a black dress with a hem that barely covered her knees, leaving her long, slender calves exposed. On her upper body, she wore a red silk gauze garment over the dress that reached only to her waist. When she sat in the guest hall waiting for her housing arrangements with her legs crossed, the male officials in the Lord's Palace couldn't help but steal glances at her.
However, Onyxia's "stay a thousand miles away" aura quelled any intent to approach her further.
With her arms crossed over her chest and an expressionless face, she sat on the sofa with her eyes half-closed, resting. This "ice queen" posture showed none of the "grace" of the future Black Dragon Princess who would manipulate the fate of Stormwind using charms.
Since Onyxia had no intention of getting close to the mortals of Moonshadow's Rest, Andreas had no interest in being overly hospitable either.
After instructing Leticia to take Onyxia to her temporary residence, Andreas walked off casually to the rooftop garden of the Lord's Palace with Shandris to watch the moon.
Leaning comfortably in his arms on a narrow lounge chair, Shandris asked, "Andreas, has Elune revealed any news yet?"
"No."
Looking at the crescent moon mostly obscured by clouds, Andreas sighed with frustration. "Since our last contact, Elune hasn't responded to my prayers. I have no idea what she's planning."
A quarter of the promised 500 years had already passed. Andreas was starting to suspect that Elune might wait until the very last second of the 500-year deadline to appear again.
"By the way, how are things in Astranaar?"
Shandris closed her eyes, leaning against Andreas's chest. "Same as usual. My mentor has become much lower-profile since the Satyr War ended, and the suppression of the Highborne isn't quite as urgent anymore."
During the Satyr War over a hundred years ago, the Highborne led by Dath'Remar had volunteered to join the capital's defense force, hoping to use military merit to improve their standing among the populace.
But Tyrande had firmly refused. She would not allow the Highborne to build a presence through the war. Dath'Remar and the others were sidelined and kept under close surveillance; they hadn't left Astranaar once during the entire conflict.
"Even if Dath'Remar is good-tempered, the years of oppression must be reaching a breaking point," Andreas remarked.
"Tyrande's sudden low profile has given the Highborne some room to breathe. But..." he mused, "having once been the privileged class of the Night Empire, how much longer can they endure this vastly different treatment?"