As we all know, Khadgar as well as everyone else that went to Draenor were thought to have died there. The events of BC revealed they all lived. What if Medivh, after hearing the news of the return of the people that went to Draenor, went to see for himself if Khadgar was among them? What if Khadgar caught a glimpse of his beloved master?
(PS: I love what you've been doing with these 'What if' prompts. They've been great reads.)
(Thanks! Decided snippets were better than the character hypothesizing on them.)
The fluted tones of what could only be described as a wind chime gently ringing against a breeze filled his mind with a sense of hope and warmth. He heard words where others would have only heard music. He felt serenity in place of the nervousness and anxiety that had once plagued him in his youth.
Youth. Ha. He hadn’t been young to others and himself since that fateful day in his master’s tower. He was in his forties now and still looked twice his age despite his and A’dal’s efforts to reverse what had happened to him.
With a heavy sigh of acceptance, Khadgar ran a hand over his face and reached for Atiesh. He thought he would never see this staff again, but one of the heroes that had come through the reopened portal had carried it, and with some persuading, relinquished it back to its old master.
Well it’s second old master.
He pulled himself to his feet before his thoughts could dwell on the original owner of the staff and send him back into the doldrums he had fought so hard to overcome after all these years. He did not need to think about Medivh and the what ifs he tortured himself with on starless, lonely nights.
Quietly he made his way from the chambers he had come to call home for the last decade and headed for A’dal’s location. The Alliance and that new Horde would be waiting to find out what they needed to do to stop the Legion from spilling into Azeroth. He found it odd to be working with the fel-tainted orcs after spending years, decades even, fighting them but he had to remind himself that not all of them were blood crazed for violence.
He wondered what had become of his friend, Garona, after she had been forced to slay his king. He still believed she was innocent and that something had happened between them. Only she knew the truth and he hoped that one day he could find out, even if it was too late to save her friendship with Lothar.
Khadgar paused in the streets of Shattrath and looked up at the light blue sky, one of few places that still harbored a natural sky after the great sundering of the world. He did not understand how parts of Draenor could remain habitable while other parts were barren wastelands with one foot trapped in the Twisting Nether.
He supposed the whole world was trapped there and that meant they were all somewhat dead.
He looked over toward the Terrace of Light where A’dal resided and oversaw the campaigns against the Fel Horde and the Legion. It had taken him some time to get use to hearing the Naaru in his mind and overcome the feeling of being violated. He wondered if it was because of its influence on him that he felt comfortable around the eldritch creature.
If that was the case, he needed to put distance between himself and A’dal.
He then heard the croak of a raven and took a moment to find where it was hiding. He saw it perched atop a broken support pylon, the thing watching people pass by below as if it was sizing up who had the easiest food to scavenge. Khadgar wondered how an Azerothian raven got to Draenor.
What did A’dal mean by that?
As if a gentle hand was prompting him with an encouraging shove, Khadgar found himself wandering over to the rather large bird. It’s feathers were a black he had not seen in years. If it wasn’t for the occasional white feather tucked away under others and in its tail, he might have mistaken it for his old master.
The thing seemed to have noticed his approach and stopped staring at the others to observe him. He wanted so much to turn into a raven and join it, to converse with the animal and find out what it knew of their homeworld. But, even that, he had not done since before his master’s death.
Thinking about the wind under his wings and the thrill at being so high in the sky under his own power had him sorely missing the activity. Perhaps after the morning meetings he might go for a flight. Provided he could remember how the spell went. It had been that long after all.
The raven suddenly cawed at him, drawing him out of his reverie and he stared up at the creature. Khadgar blinked a couple times in disbelief at what he was seeing and took a moment to rub at his eyes. Surely he was seeing things and not what the thought he had seen. He lowered his hand to look again and the animal was just that, an animal.
"If I knew that I did not just look like an old man," he jested in good humor even though he felt nothing of the humor, "I would say that I was going senile. For a moment there, my friend, I thought your eyes glowed with the arcane."
Khadgar sighed softly, his shoulders lowering at the disappointment. For just a brief moment, he thought his old master had finally returned. He should have not given himself that kind of hope. The old man would not have come to Draenor if what he had seen all those years ago in Karazhan were true. Why would he? This world was nothing but death and decay.
"You best find your way back to Azeroth," he tells the raven finally. Pulling himself together he started to turn back toward the Terrace. "Outland is no place for a raven such as yourself."
Khadgar paused and looked back at where the raven had been, only to find that it had flown away. He looked around for it but it was no where to be seen. A gentle breeze brushed against his long beard while he stood there in wonderment, hoping that he was not going crazy after all. He reached up to stroke the hair back into place and thought about what had transpired just now.
"A'dal," he called to the naaru and he heard its musical notes echo in his mind. "Was that...?"
The past awaits in the future and the Light will illuminate the way, the eldritch creature answered and the young-old archmage furrowed his brow to ponder what was said. He stroked at his beard and paused half way to stare at the thing.
"Perhaps it is time I return home and visit an old friend," he said and stole one last glance at where the raven had been. "But first... this beard."
Khadgar turned back toward his chambers. The leaders of the Shattered Sun Offensive can wait just a while longer for him.
