***

This time I’m going to do it!

Chronormu lowered his nose and began yet another descent. Gradually the vast icy expanse of the Dragonblight grew smaller and smaller, its countless deep crags and mounds of half-buried bones fading from view as he approached the low ridge of cliffs that encircled the Bronze Dragonshrine, a sacred place where Nozdormu the Timeless One was known to sit vigil among dragons long laid to rest.

But as the ground rushed closer, so did Chronormu’s doubts, and at the last moment he once again angled his wings upward and soared high into the sky. He resumed a wide arc far above the perimeter of the shrine.

Perhaps it was best if he put off his meeting with Nozdormu until the morrow. After all, Chronormu told himself, the Bronze Aspect was a very busy dragon indeed and no doubt had many important matters to oversee. But just as he had all but convinced himself to fly home to his roost, Chronormu’s mind drifted back to a lecture his master had given only the season before.

“The Sands of Time are plentiful but precious. Waste not a single grain.”

Chronormu blushed at the memory. He was being silly, of course. The bronze dragons were the caretakers of the timeways; he knew well that once set into motion, time is not apt to stop or slow down simply because one desires it. He could be prepared for his Visage Day, or he could dawdle.

So he stretched his wings wide and let the air currents guide him gently to the ground, ignoring the sideways glances and bemused giggles of the drakes and whelplings at play around the outskirts of the shrine who had borne witness to his repeated indecision. Chronormu raised his head high and walked past them with feigned confidence, offering only a sagely nod. They’ll be no less nervous than I when their Visage Day draws near, he assured himself.

As he walked the winding path upward to the crest of the ridge, Chronormu drew in a long, calming breath of cool air and held it. The natural stone walkway sloped downward and became a wide, chiseled stair leading to the sandy vale of the shrine. He exhaled when he reached the last step, and the next breath he took was impossibly warm, the air bathed in the golden light of this magical oasis. It was as if some pocket of the past were preserved here from a time when the climate of Northrend had been sunny and warm—or perhaps pulled from a future that had not yet come to pass. Either way, it was resplendent and wondrous, tangible proof of the Timeless One’s power. And there Nozdormu sat, alone in the middle of the shrine, adrift upon a sea of sand and dragon bones. Quiet. Contemplative. His mind no doubt focused upon an infinity of moments along the timeways.

Chronormu approached slowly, head lowered in reverence. “Master Nozdormu, may I speak to you?”

“Of course, Chronormu. Join me in the sand.” His voice managed to be wise and welcoming all at once.

Whenever Nozdormu sat within the sands, intricate patterns formed around him of their own accord. The smaller dragon stepped carefully so as to cause as little disruption as he could. Chronormu thought these curling designs were more beautiful than fine artwork, in part because they were so fragile. But even still, they held their own unique shape, down to the smallest spiral. Chronormu felt a pang of envy in his heart that the sand seemed surer of itself than he was.

Chronormu sat down facing the Timeless One, feeling very trifling indeed. Just being in the presence of the leader of their dragonflight, who had witnessed so many momentous events over the many ages, made the younger dragon feel smaller than a speck of sand.

A shared moment of serenity passed between them before the young dragon ruined it entirely.

“Well, Master Nozdormu, my Visage Day is coming very soon, as you know. I mean of course you know—you’re the Timeless One, so you’ve seen what’s about to happen, has happened, and is yet to come. But I’m just a young, unimportant bronze dragon, and I have no idea what’s coming—I’m not even sure what form to choose. I was hoping that since you know the future, maybe you could tell me what form I will choose or what future me did choose, which isn’t really cheating since you know it’s going to happen anyway. And yes, you have rules about that sort of thing, but maybe just this once you could find a way to—”

“Chronormu,” the ancient dragon said firmly but not unkindly.

“Yes?”

“Breathe.”

Chronormu inhaled slowly, steadily. He thought if he could make it last long enough, he might forget how mortified he felt.

“Sorry about that,” he said quietly.

***

Nozdormu’s voice flowed like the sweeping sands. “No bronze dragon is small or unimportant. Please, tell me what Visage Day means to you.”

“It shows that you and the other Aspects trust me to adopt the form of one of the mortal races and walk among their kind. And the better I can relate to them, the more I can help them understand us dragons. That’s why picking the right visage is so important. I want them to see me for me, not just the scales and fangs that I wear.”

Nozdormu nodded his huge bronze head, and with a slow blink of his eyes, his entire form was enveloped within a cloud of shimmering golden magic. As the moments passed, the cloud grew smaller and smaller until it abated, leaving behind not the gigantic silhouette of a dragon, but the form of a brown-bearded high elf.

Even in this form, the Timeless One retained his elegance and austerity. He looked like some ancient king, possessing a regal bearing that radiated confidence and wisdom. The mortal armor he wore was inlaid with bronze scales, and upon his right shoulder was a pauldron shaped like a dragon’s head that held a glass vial of ever-flowing sand.

Chronormu was dumbstruck, certain that he could never assume a form so noble.

The elf gestured, and the sands beneath his feet began shifting once again. “Since we Aspects first realized our kind was destined to share Azeroth with the young races, we have each taken a visage that allowed us to see the world as they do. Just as importantly, it informs how they perceive us. Do you wish them to see you as a trustworthy sage? A tyrant to be feared? Distant and aloof, or warm and generous? This choice is deeply personal, and it says much about who you are as a dragon. So no, I will not tell you anything that might sway your decision.”

Chronormu sighed. “I understand,” he said, and he truly did. But his uncertainty over choosing a mortal form—and indeed, who he was as a dragon—still troubled him.

“Instead, I offer this advice,” Nozdormu continued. “Seek out others who have chosen a form. Not just friends, but those you do not yet know. Even those you might be fearful of. Listen to the truths that guided their choices, and you may find that in the process, your own path will become clear.”

“Thank you, Master. I will do as you suggest.” This wasn’t the easy answer Chronormu had been hoping for, but it was a good answer.

“The sands will guide you, young one,” Nozdormu said, sitting down in the warm golden light and turning back to his thoughts.

As Chronormu backed away toward the stairs, he paused to watch the Timeless One in his meditation. Still appearing mortal, he sat within the deep impression his dragon form had left upon the sand. It seemed to Chronormu that it didn’t matter how the Aspect presented himself—he filled the sand all the same.

The young bronze dragon leaped into the air and soared upward, an idea already forming in his mind.

Chronormu flew high and fast, watching the frigid terrain of Dragonblight give way to the steamy geyser fields and rust-colored scrub grass of the rolling tundra, toward a distant haze of blue in the western sky. Gradually the glow grew brighter, more defined, until it formed a beacon of light that seemed to pierce the sky itself. He soared higher toward the tall cliffs of jagged stone that surrounded Coldarra, bastion of the blue dragonflight.

The young dragon crested the high peaks and gazed with awe upon the Nexus, a massive tower of floating rings encircling a thick pillar of arcane energy. Chronormu had heard stories of the wonders contained within that stronghold: ancient artifacts granted to the Aspects by the will of the titans themselves. Cohorts of large blue dragons flew in patrols around the structure, their synchronized arcs flowing with practiced precision.

Not wishing to disrupt the graceful blues, Chronormu glided in low, choosing to land upon a ridge that overlooked fields of snow dotted with clumps of tall pines. A purple light infused the air, with the sound of arcane magic crackling softly in the bronze dragon’s ears. Drakes and dragons conjured bolts of energy, honing the magic prowess for which their flight was known.

Chronormu spotted an azure dragon soaring toward him from the upper reaches of the Nexus. With almost regal grace, the blue landed so smoothly that he barely disturbed the soil beneath his claws.

“You must be Chronormu,” the dragon said with a polite bow of his head. “I am Kalecgos. It is an honor to meet you.”

The bronze bowed his head in response. “Delighted, Kalecgos! Zidormi speaks highly of you. Thank you for taking the time to see me. I can tell you’re very busy.”

Kalecgos smiled. There was something calm and gentle about him. “My master, Malygos, expects members of our flight to train relentlessly. But I can always find time to do a favor for a friend. Zidormi informed me that you seek guidance about your upcoming Visage Day?”

Chronormu gave a sober nod. “Indeed, and it is fast approaching. I find myself torn over which mortal form best represents who I am. I sought out my own master, and he suggested I try to learn from others who had already made their decision. If I may ask, Kalecgos, how did you choose a form?”

The blue dragon closed his eyes and whispered an incantation. Swirls of arcane magic cascaded around him as Kalecgos assumed his mortal guise. When the transformation was finished, Chronormu remained politely silent.

“What do you think of my choice?” asked the slight, blue-haired . . . elf? Human? Whatever he was, Kalecgos was dressed in a simple white shirt tucked into unexceptional brown trousers and boots. For such an elaborate transformation, the result was rather mundane.

“A most distinguished form indeed!” Chronormu tried to mask his confusion with enthusiasm.

Kalecgos chuckled. “Be honest, my young friend. It is not what you expected, am I right?”

The bronze dragon blushed. “It’s just that . . . knowing how magical you blues are, and having caught a glimpse or two of Malygos in his fancy mortal form, I guess I expected something with a bit more . . .”

“Grandeur? It’s fine, Chronormu. Really.” His warm smile put the bronze at ease. “In fact, the contrast to other members of my flight is exactly why I made this choice.”

Chronormu blinked. Then blinked again. “I don’t understand.”

“Well,” the blue began, “there are any number of reasons for selecting a particular form. The Aspects command the respect of our flights, and of mortals as well, so their guises serve a necessary function. They need to be elaborate and formal because that is what we expect of them. Yes?”

That made sense. The bronze nodded.

“While many of my flight follow the example of the Aspects, I seek to walk beside the mortals as an equal. I chose a visage that is half-human and half-elf: a blend of mortal worlds, as I try to be a blend of our world and theirs. I didn’t want my appearance to remind them of a dragon. I wanted them to see me as a friend, a peer, someone they can trust. I would say that was the heart of my choice and my identity, Chronormu: I chose to be approachable.”

That made a lot of sense. “And the blue hair?”

Kalecgos shrugged. “It suits me.”

“Understandable,” Chronormu replied. “Thank you for speaking with me today, Kalecgos. You have been even kinder than Zidormi said you would be.”

The half-elf smiled. “It was my pleasure. May I offer two other suggestions before you go?”

“Sure!” Chronormu blurted out, his eyes wide.

“First, I have noticed that dragon names can sound a bit formal for mortals. If you choose to walk among them as an ally, I suggest thinking about a . . . Oh, what is that they call it? A nickname. For example, when in the company of mortals, I go by the name Kalec.”

“Really? I do like that idea. I’ll think about it. What is your other suggestion?”

Kalecgos cocked an eyebrow. “I’ve given you advice from my point of view. But other dragons often see themselves and their interactions with mortals quite differently. I suggest you seek the wisdom of someone whose perspective varies from my own.”

Chronormu knew the advice was sound. He thought of other dragons who had made an impression on him and tried to picture one who was as different from Kalecgos as possible. When the name struck him, his carefree demeanor turned grim.

The half-elf stroked his chin. “It would seem you have a dragon in mind for your next visit.”

The bronze sighed. “In fact, I do.”

The dark-scaled drakonid shuffled toward Chronormu, its voice a low, grating growl. “My mistress will see you now. Follow.”

The bronze dragon, feeling woefully out of place, swallowed hard. The drakonid were servants of dragonkind, a burly, bipedal race fashioned by their masters to be helpful and loyal. Never had one frightened him before. But here, in these ashy-aired caverns tucked away in a shadowy corner of the Dragonblight, the young dragon felt very frightened indeed.

As the black drakonid turned and led him toward the gaping mouth of one of the tunnels that wound their way deep into the volcanic mountainside, Chronormu’s fear turned to pity. The creature seemed worn, haggard, one of its legs dragging slightly behind it.

Why does his mistress not heal him? the bronze dragon wondered. The only notions that came to mind were unsettling at best. And as he walked and the drakonid limped along, Chronormu saw others like his escort who labored near seething pools of lava, or who pulled heavy carts full of ore—and all of them seemed overworked and bedraggled. There was no joy here, no happiness. Only obedience.

The tunnel opened into a vast chamber lit by braziers of flame and flowing streams of lava that settled into burning pools. More drakonid were scattered about, some laboring, others sparring with obsidian drakes who practiced their martial skills. The young dragons attacked fiercely, and Chronormu realized why so many of the servants seemed wounded.

The black flight practices how best to inflict pain. The thought of it filled his heart with sorrow and shame.

Chronormu walked slowly so as not to outpace his guide. The tunnel twisted and turned past outcroppings of jagged stone that looked more than a little like malformed dragon teeth before opening into a cave where the air grew increasingly thick and foul. He felt as if he were under dark, heavy water, and the bronze suppressed the urge to flee.

You’re safe, Chronormu. You’re among your own people. There’s no reason to be afraid. Yet hoping to convince yourself of something was not the same as truly believing it, he knew.

Upon an island of dark stone at the center of the cave perched a great black dragon. She was commanding. Imperious. She craned her massive head to and fro, the polished surface of her curved horns reflecting the firelight, ensuring that no one in her charge shirked their duties. The drakonid led their bronze guest along a narrow obsidian walkway that snaked back and forth toward the black dragon. Chronormu slowed as he drew closer, struck by reverence as well as fear.

“Mistress, I bring the outsider seeking an audience.” Her servant was kneeling so low as to almost be sprawled upon the rock. The dragon turned and regarded the drakonid with piercing yellow eyes. Eyes that soon fixed their catlike pupils upon Chronormu.

The bronze dragon searched for a proper greeting and stumbled. “He-hello, my lady. Thank you for—”

“Is that how you show respect to the daughter of an Aspect?” Her voice was hard, demanding.

The young bronze knelt low, head bowed even lower. “Forgive me. Thank you for seeing me, Lady Onyxia.”

The black dragon seemed satisfied. “You may rise and state your name.”

“I am Chronormu. I bring you greetings from the bronze dragonflight and the best wishes of the Timeless One.” He rose as his hostess had ordered, but he was conscious of a wobble in his legs.

Onyxia didn’t so much as blink. “I trust you did not come all this way to offer trite platitudes, little dragon. Tell me what you seek.”

Chronormu’s mouth felt very dry. “Your counsel, my lady,” he answered softly.

“Indeed?” Her demeanor shifted, her posture becoming more relaxed. But whether from genuine interest or mere bemusement, the young dragon couldn’t guess. “Go on.”

Chronormu drew in a breath. He had prepared a long explanation punctuated with deference and humor, but even with Onyxia’s seeming benevolence, he didn’t want to linger in these sepulchral caverns any longer than he had to. “My Visage Day approaches, and I’m uncertain what form to take. I hoped to learn how you came to your own decision.”

The black dragon remained still for several uncomfortable moments, then broke the silence with a question. “Why do we choose a visage?” she asked.

“To better relate to the mortal races,” the bronze replied. “To be approachable, and to commune with their kind.”

Onyxia scoffed, a plume of dark smoke rising from her nostrils. “That sounds like something Nozdormu would teach his whelps. No, little dragon. We choose a visage that allows us to control them.”

The massive black dragon stretched her wings wide and reared up on her hind legs. Chronormu’s mouth fell agape as Onyxia’s form seemed to fill the entirety of the massive chamber. She held her pose a moment, then drew her wings in with such force that a cloud of ash came rushing toward Chronormu. The bronze dragon coughed and gasped, eyes burning from the soot. When he finally blinked the tears away, Onyxia was no longer in her dragon form, but in the guise of a raven-haired human woman dressed in fine robes.

“Of all the mortal races, it is humans who pose the greatest threat to dragonkind,” she said. “They are neither the strongest nor the smartest, but they are the most relentless. Yet for all their cleverness, they are vain creatures bent by flattery. I chose a form that would quicken their heartbeats and allow me to seize all that I desire from them. Heed my wisdom, little one: you are a dragon, a hunter, with claws for tearing and teeth for killing. No visage will change that. And just like your other gifts, your visage will be a means to take what you want.”

Chronormu felt as though his breath had been punched from his lungs, and he didn’t quite know what to say. “That . . . that is not how I want mortals to see me.”

The faintest hint of a smile formed on Onyxia’s human lips. She drew closer to Chronormu, reaching out her porcelain hand to stroke the bronze’s neck. She spoke slowly, softly. “You cannot change your nature, little dragon. If you stay here at my side, I will teach you all you need to know about mortals. With my training, and by choosing the ideal form, you will become the greatest of your flight. Even the Timeless One will one day kneel before you.”

As her cruel words twisted in Chronormu’s belly, the young dragon realized she was merely toying with him. He stepped backward, recoiling from her cloying touch. “Your offer is most . . . kind, Lady Onyxia. I have learned much from you already, I think. But I must be going.”

The woman laughed, her voice booming like the dragon she was. “A pity you lack the spine to embrace the truth, little one. You will always be small and insignificant. Befriend mortals, and one day they will be the death of you.”

Chronormu didn’t wait for an escort. He turned and fled, hoping with all his heart that he remembered which tunnel would lead him back to the open air. Behind him, peals of laughter echoed through the chamber. The sound pursued him as he raced through passages of dark stone, only relenting when he finally escaped the clutches of the caverns and could breathe the cold night air once more.

He collapsed upon a deep drift of fresh powdery snow that cleaned the soot from his scales. Tears filled his eyes, an outpouring of sorrow and fear and relief. He had never felt so horrible to be a dragon as he had in that cave. But whatever Lady Onyxia’s intent, Chronormu had learned something from her.

“I know what I want to be,” he said aloud. And though the words trembled from his lips, Chronormu’s heart was strong and determined.

Stand still. Don’t you fidget! Don’t you pace!
The ceremony will begin soon!

Chronormu’s head was a blur of thoughts and feelings. His tummy felt like it was packed with anxious whelplings playing a game of ringchase. It was here at last. His Visage Day.

Tradition dictated that the ceremony be held at the summit of Wyrmrest Temple, the enormous tower of pale gray stone from which the Aspects could look out upon all Dragonblight. He had expected Nozdormu’s presence, as was befitting members of his flight. But when Chronormu was told that the Dragon Queen herself would be officiating, he nearly fainted on the spot.

Alexstrasza! At my Visage Day! The thought did nothing to quiet the tummy whelplings.

So instead, he looked around at those gathered. Dear Zidormi had arrived early, of course, and had done her best to settle his nerves. The bronze flight was most heavily represented, including many friendly faces that Chronormu had known all his life. Each flight had sent emissaries, as was customary. There were red dragons, green dragons, and blue dragons. Even Lady Onyxia had come, along with an entourage, though her flight was clearly out of favor with the others. Nozdormu stared off into the distance, unmoving, awaiting the intended moment to begin.

“Hello again, Chronormu.”

The young bronze had been so consumed by his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed the friendly blue dragon walk up to his side.

“Kalecgos! It’s wonderful to see you again! Thank you for coming.” Joy and relief washed over Chronormu, and he wrapped the blue in a big, happy hug. It wasn’t traditional, but it soothed his fretting mind just a bit.

The dragon smiled. “I wouldn’t dream of missing it. I look forward to your proclamation.”

My proclamation. Chronormu had recited the words aloud to himself a hundred times over, not to mention the particulars of the visage spell, but he was still certain he’d blunder them in front of everyone, including the Dragon Queen. He managed a grin and an awkward chuckle as he fought the urge to flee.

“It is time,” Nozdormu announced simply and plainly, yet the words rang out over the small talk of those gathered.

The other dragons fanned out around the periphery of the open-air chamber, while Chronormu stood at the center, facing the Timeless One. All was silent, and the young bronze felt a sudden rush of panic. Are they waiting for me to say something? What happens next?

As if in response, a sprawling shadow blocked the shimmering green light radiating from above as slowly, gracefully, the Dragon Queen descended from the sky and took her place at Nozdormu’s side. Chronormu had seen Alexstrasza from a distance many times. Up close, the Life-Binder was a vision in her crimson scales and sweeping horns adorned with gold, but it was her warmth and compassion that the young dragon truly admired.

“Come forth, Chronormu the Bronze,” she said, her voice a gentle song.

The young dragon walked forward at a measured pace. The cool stone was a comfort against his nervous claws. He stopped just before reaching the two Aspects.

Alexstrasza leaned in close, speaking softly so that only Chronormu could hear. “I am told you had doubts regarding your decision, young one. If you would like, I can postpone the ceremony for another time.” She smiled warmly. “Know that I only desire what is best for you, my child.”

Chronormu wasn’t sure he had ever felt so understood, so loved. He nodded. “I am ready, my queen. And it would be the greatest honor of my life if you would proceed with the ceremony.”

Alexstrasza nodded to him, then spoke aloud to all the guests. “Many ages have passed since we dragons first peered down from our roosts and watched the young mortal races begin to spread across Azeroth. As we saw their villages grow into cities, and their cities become kingdoms, the timeways told us that we must find a way to live alongside them. And so it was decided that we would each assume a form that would allow us to walk freely among their kind and see this world as they do.”

The Life-Binder turned back to the small dragon before her. “And now, Chronormu the Bronze, in honor of your Visage Day, those of us who have chosen a form will assume it now.”

With those words she gestured, and many of those in attendance, the queen included, transformed into their mortal guises. Alexstrasza was a beautiful high elf with scarlet hair and gold adorning her horns. Nozdormu stood once more in his austere elven form. And as Chronormu looked around, he saw the smiling faces of humans, night elves, tauren, and other mortal races. It was wondrous. It was breathtaking.

The queen’s words reclaimed his attention. “The hour is at hand, Chronormu. Face your kin and make your proclamation.”

He swallowed hard, bowing his head to Alexstrasza in thanks. Then he turned toward those who had joined him on this special day and began to speak the words he had practiced.

“Dear friends, honored kin, it warms my heart to look around and see all those who have supported me throughout my life. Who have guided me through trials and shared my joys and sorrows. I know it may not always have been easy”—he gave Zidormi a sheepish glance—“but you stood by me all the same. And for that, I thank you. Many of you know that this has not been . . . it has not been . . .” Chronormu stammered, his mind racing with doubt.

He looked at Nozdormu and expected a stern glare. He saw only pride. He looked at Alexstrasza and expected to see pity. He saw only caring. His gaze turned from one dragon to another, and in all their eyes, he saw only warmth and love.

Chronormu put aside his practiced speech and spoke from his heart.

“This hasn’t been an easy choice to make. For a long time, I thought something must be wrong with me, because for everyone else the decision seemed to come naturally. So I sought counsel from friends, my honored teachers, and some . . .” He looked straight into Lady Onyxia’s eyes without flinching. “Well, some who maybe weren’t my friends but taught me lessons all the same. And at last I understood what this choice truly meant.

“It’s not just about how we wish for others to perceive us—it’s about how we see ourselves and how we experience this world alongside those we share it with. And I realized I don’t want to look upon Azeroth or the mortals that inhabit her through the eyes of a hero or a conqueror. I want to see it as the smallest among them, but also the most optimistic. I want to be someone who could do her best to build a brighter future—while respecting the laws of the timeways, of course!” He gave Nozdormu a quick nod, which the Timeless One returned with a smile.

“And so my proclamation is . . .” Chronormu closed his eyes and whispered the words of the incantation that would define his mortal form. Bronze magic shimmered all about him, enveloping him, until his dragon form disappeared within the glittering cloud.

Then all at once it faded, and there, before two Aspects and a crowd of beloved friends, stood a tiny gnome woman in a white robe trimmed with gold.

“Hi there! You can call me Chromie!” she said.

A cheer arose from all those gathered, and the little gnome basked in the smile of the Dragon Queen.

“It is good to meet you, Chromie,” Alexstrasza said. “Welcome home.”

Zidormi was the first to embrace her dear friend, taking great care not to bruise Chromie’s tiny form. Nozdormu told her that she had made a wise choice, though he refused to say if he had known all along what her decision would be. Lady Onyxia said nothing, but before departing the festivities, she offered the young bronze the slightest of nods, which Chromie chose to take as a sign of acceptance.

Kalec, his half-elven visage still adorned in his humble attire, walked up to Chromie and offered a stately bow. “You came to me, as well as others, for advice. So why is it I feel that we are the ones who were taught a lesson?”

She chuckled. “Perhaps we all have things to learn from one another.”

The blue dragon nodded. “I believe I understand why you chose to take the form of a gnome. But if I may ask, why did you choose to become female as well?”

Chromie smiled. “It suits me,” she said, and shared with Kalec a long, happy hug.

And with that, a glorious day unfolded into a glorious evening. The dragons danced and feasted and sang the songs of old, and the young bronze went to bed that night feeling more whole, and more joyful, than she ever had before.

The next morning, Chromie stirred with the first glimmer of the rising sun. She yawned and stretched and smiled upon the wonders of the waking world.