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Nightmares plagued Kylesa's sleep. Every night he dreamed of giant horrific creatures that clung to buildings of an strange architecture he had never seen before. Their heads were covered in eyes that protruded out from sacks of rotten skin, the pupils small and unfocused. Six thin limbs stretched out from their upper torsos. Their figures like that of a spider, but had hands like that of a human's which gave them an even more eerie and unsettling appearance.

The only emotion he could feel was dread as he gazed at monstrosity. They were but mere puppets he could tell, but for a master who's name was left unspoken. Black ink would begin to quickly seep from every orifice on the creature's body, seeping onto the ground and pooling around the monk's hooves. It climbed up his legs, spreading an almost painful numbness as it rose up and covered the tauren's body. He tried to let out a scream of horror but nothing would come out. His vision began to blur and slowly fade and whispers began to overtake his mind, leaving him writhing in agony.

Kylesa shot up quickly in his bed. It felt like the air in his lungs had been sucked right out of him and he panted desperately to catch his breath. He shivered in the freezing cold, having kicked the thick fur blankets from his bed in his restless turmoil. Sweat drenched his fur and he quickly wrapped his nude form in a blanket, curling into a ball in his bed.

The dreams felt all too real Kylesa, leaving the bull to put off sleep for days just to stave off his inevitable fate. He surrounded himself in a bubble of steaming mist, the life energy soothing his aching muscles as the cloud swirled around him. He threw off the fur pelt, letting the orb lift him into the air a few feet off the ground. He began willed tendrils of mist to clean and scrape away the grime of sweat and dirt from his body. Satisfied, he allowed the mist to evaporate. Grabbing a thick fur robe and a cowl to protect his face, he set out into the world.

A small snowstorm was hitting the Frostwall Garrison today, leaving most of its denizens inside their warm homes. Several peons and workers could still be spotted carrying bundles of resources and tools, however. The work never really ends for some. Kylesa tried his best to keep his mind clear, pushing away all thoughts of his dreams away for the moment. The cry of a distant bird echoed above his head. He heard the flapping of wings and as he turned around he was met with a familiar face.

"By the Earthmother, you look like you've had a rough night to say the least!" Azk said to the monk as he stepped forward and grasped his shoulders in his meaty palms, peering into his eyes curiously. "Come on, let's go inside," the druid said, taking Kylesa's hand and pulling him along.

"I'm fine," the monk grumbled in a groggy voice. "I just... haven't been sleeping properly the past few days," he lied. It had been two weeks since the events at the Lunarfall garrison and every night had been the same since then, waking up in a cold sweat, gripping to keep his sanity.

"You can tell me all about it once we're inside," the bigger tauren said comfortingly. He pulled the monk inside the town hall, finding that all its inhabitants had long since gone home. He sat Kylesa down at a table and peered into his eyes. He could feel the monk was distraught, but over what he didn't know. He took Kylesa's hand. "You know I'm be here for you right? Why don't you tell me what happened," the druid said softly.

The monk sighed. "I suppose I'm not worming my way out of this conversation am I?" he muttered. He didn't exactly know how to tell Azk the horrific events that unfolded at Lunarfall garrison without the druid believing that he was insane. So he decided to only tell half the truth. "A friend very dear to me passed away recently. We were deceived by an agent of an unknown source into believing the alliance at Lunarfall garrison were plotting something. We were captured and Xiao... was killed," he said with tears in his eyes. The vision of the pandaren's spirit haunted his soul. He knew there was nothing he could do to save him, but he still felt guilty. He had known him and grown up with him. They were childhood friends.

"I see," the druid said, clasping Kylesa's hand in his own tightly. "Will you tell me about him?"

"I've known the pandaren since I was a mere calf. He was the son of Bo Stormstout, who took me in under his protection when I was very young. We grew up side by side, and I always admired his virtue. When we were old enough, we joined the temple of the Red Crane together and began our studies to become monks. Like his uncle Chen, Xiao became a powerful and skilled Brewmaster, while I of course became a Mistweaver." Kylesa cleared his throat, feeling anguish gripping his heart the more he spoke of Xiao. He looked down at the table in front of him, not wanting to meet the druids eyes. "He was like a brother to me and there was always something more there as well... I just never confessed my feelings to him. It torments me that I'll never get a chance to either." Tears trickled from his eyes, wetting his cheeks.

The druid reached out and brushed the tears from his face. He felt helpless faced with the monk's grief. "I'm sorry for your loss... I wish there was something I could say that could lift your spirits." He pulled the monk into a tight embrace, hugging him to his chest.

Kylesa couldn't help but feel his worries melt away as he breathed in the tauren's earthy scent. Butterflies danced in his stomach as the druid held him close. Good things don't last forever however and they soon separated. He felt embarrassed. He normally didn't let his feelings come through this easily. "I'm sorry, I try not to let these things get the best of me," the monk said with a short laugh and a small smile on his lips, wiping away the tears from his eyes.

"Don't be. Your will is stronger than most to still be standing here at this moment," the druid said with an affectionate smile.

Uulwi ifis halahs gag erhn'ongg w'ssh...

It was two long weeks that it took Kylesa to recover. Eventually the dreams faded, but there was still a nagging sensation in the back of his mind. He took back to carrying out missions for the Horde on Draenor, but one day his journey took him back to Azeroth. More specifically, to Winterspring. Elder Kernada sent word of a looming danger that lurked in the snowy mountains. Kylesa trusted Kernada 's judgement, and if he thought there was something amiss, he was usually correct. He set aside his duties to the Horde and quickly made way, using a mystical frozen orb to quickly teleport him directly to Timbermaw Hold. The elder was already in wait for him.

"Ah, at last you finally show up. I was beginning to wonder if you were gonna show your face at all," he said in a deep grumbling voice.

"It's good to see you too, Kernada," the monk replied with a wide smile. The two pulled together in a tight embrace. It had been a long time since the two had last see each other. They had known one another for many years, the monk having taken care of the Winterfall menace so many years ago. The furblog was naturally grumpy and didn't care who he disrespected in his speak your mind manner. The blue furred furblog hugged him back and laughed.

"You've grown so much since I last saw you, in mind and in strength. You already carry so much wisdom behind the ears, well beyond your years," the furblog spoke. "But unfortunately, I did not call you hear today on a social call. Silence has fell upon Winterspring as of late. The creatures of these mountains have stopped their daily chatter and I can feel are horrible sensation of dread in my heart. We can all feel it. My tribe has barely seen the light of day out of fear, and we know not what we fear. Please, I ask for your kindness once more. I feel like a child in fear of my own shadow as of late. Please find the source of this unnatural terror and I will once again be in your debt," the Elder pleaded.

"You should know by now, you will never hold any debt to me, my friend." Kylesa rubbed his shoulder in encouragement. "Don't worry, I'll bring an end to your torment." The tauren left after saying his goodbyes and prepared for his search. Grabbing the glittering orb from his belt, he reached his mind inside to stir Tarylaon from his slumber. However, he jolted back and a powerful electric energy lashed out at him, barring his entrance and causing him to drop the orb out of shock.

It didn't reach the ground. The energy extended outwards, forming into the shape of a pandaren, in astral form and in a fighting stance. The ethereal pandaren kicked upwards, swinging his leg through the monk's head and coming out the other side. He felt a sudden static force burst against his being and was battered to the ground, dazed. A loud voice shook through Kylesa's mind. OLD GOD... CORRUPTION... DETECTED. A flow of thought invaded the tauren's mind and scoured his thoughts. He was left unable to think, let alone move. It shuffled through every memory and every moment through his life in the span of thirty seconds and slipped out of his mind. INITIATING... PURGE... The monk was left with control over his body once more as the astral being left his mind and he darted to his feet quickly. He lifted his fingers towards the apparition and crackled the air between them, shooting a blast of lightning chi energy into the core. The astral image faded, and the core fell to the snow. Kylesa quickly picked it back up and cradled it in his hands, examining it closely. It didn't appear to be too damaged, luckily. The glittering light was faint, but it would quickly repair itself.

He couldn't help but wonder what exactly Tarylaon had meant. He knew of the old gods, but they were mostly just rumors. No one really knew much about them, but that would explain the mysterious energy that overtook him back at Lunarfall. And the whispers... He heard about how in Northrend miners were driven mad by the influence of Yogg'Saron, but a band of heroes had subdued the accursed being back before the fall of the Lich King. He trembled at the thought of another of those terrors emerging. In their unleashed forms, it is said that even the Titan overlord Sargeras feared their power. It was rumored that Deathwing himself was under the control of such a being, it's name unknown.

Kylesa put the orb in his pocket and sighed. Guess I'm going on foot, he thought to himself. He trekked through the snowy lands of Winterspring in search of source of the Elder's troubles. He could feel a mysterious pressence as he walked, and it brought a looming sense of dread with it. He felt it growing stronger walking among the snowy trees and a heavy fog began to set among forest he walked along, obscuring his vision. He tried to take hold of the fog, but found it unbending to his will. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He pressed on.

That nagging sensation slowly began to come back as he tread deeper into the forest. The sensation grew stronger, and he began to hear a faint whispering. There is a little lamb lost in dark woods... The fog began to draw back and Kylesa stopped in his tracks. A dark sillouette began to emerge from the depths of the cloudy mist that filled his view. The monk was filled with horror. It held a slender form and stood about twelve feet high. It was a drakonid... but not. Its form was twisted and covered in eyes, that twitched and peered into Kylesa's own. It's face held no mouth, no nose, no features at all. It was just... blank.

"Do my appearance frighten you?" the creature spoke suddenly, extending an apendage that one could only describe as an arm, but mangled and blackened, with digusting pus leaking eyeballs. "I know who you are, I know everything that there is to you, Kilesa Mara." It's voice was soft and eerie at the same time, holding a gentle tone. "Have you had the dream again? A black goat with seven eyes that watches from the outside... You need not be afraid, I am not here to claim your soul. Not today at least..." The creature had no eyes where they should normally be, but he could still feel the creature peering into his very soul. Suddenly he felt a cold tendril of thought force its way into his mind. "The apparition you see is merely a husk to carry my message, a message addressed to you young monk. Know only this, the slumbering beast beneath the ocean slumbers no longer. Beware its cold grip, or it will take you too, as it has the exile of the violet dragonflight. I wonder if you would recognize the name if I spoke it? Possibly, although the very notion may drive you mad.

"Your soul is tainted, this I can see. Do you wish to be clean again? I can feel that you do," the drakonid spoke musically, its lips unmoving. "I have a gift for you before I depart." He felt something wrenching inside him and black ink began to trickle from his nose. Kylesa felt the pulling inside him intensify, and he cried out in pain. The black substance began to flow freely from his nose, mouth, and eyes, and was sucked up the husk's extended appendage, traveling up and covering the creatures stature in the black ink. "I'm afraid this is where we must part ways. It truly was a pleasure. You may know me only as the King in Yellow, I know how names are so important to mortals." Soon the flow from his orifices stopped and the ink slowly began to consume the creature. It's cold tendril was pulled from his mind as it disappeared into nothingness.

The fog faded and the air was filled with the sound of the chirping of birds once again. The presence that was there before was there no longer and his mind felt clear for the first time in weeks. The King in Yellow? Kylesa's life got stranger by the hour, it seemed.

The campaign on Draenor had gone extremely well over the next few months. Led by the Frostwall Commander, the forces of the Horde were able to lay seige to Hellfire Citadel and drive Gul'dan and his cursed allies from the lands for good. For a brief moment, the world seemed calm and once more Tarylaon responded to his call. Kylesa had refrained from telling tale of the incidents of his recently life to a single soul. He knew no one would believe a word from his mouth. The Old Gods had been gone for years. He knew better than to be spouting that kind of non-sense to anyone. He would be seen as insane; unfit to lead his forces and his title stripped from him. Instead, Kylesa decided to bide his time, to find out these unfolding events before making a move. Now was the perfect time to investigate, seeing as things had calmed down in his life. For the most part at least.

He scoured the libraries of Dalaran to find anything that would lead him in the right direction. The only thing he found was documentation on Yogg'Saron, but even that didn't bring him any fruit for his labors. He found out a lot about the Titans however. According to the texts, they once fought off the old gods, but found they were unable to kill them, forcing them to imprison them across the lands. Three old gods were known of, and one there were faint rumors of. The first, an entity known as C'Thun was an old god who once resided in Ahn'Qiraj and commanded an army of ruthless silithid to do it's bidding but was eventually slain by an large band of heroes. The second was the old god Yogg'Saron who spread its influence throughout the land of Northrend, unable to act directly from its prison in Ulduar. Yogg'Saron corrupted it's jailers, driving them mad with its dark whispers until the old god was slain once more by the denizens of Azeroth. The third was Y'shaarj, an old god who was slain by the titans and it's heart locked away to be forgotten. It's visage was spread throughout the land of Pandaria, however, in seven different beings known as the sha. Y'Shaarj too was slain, but not before bringing massive amounts of distruction to the lands of Pandaria. As for the unknown... There's said to be a terrible being locked away deep beneath the ocean. But what of Nya'lotha? He found nothing about that place, no matter where he looked.

Curious, he plucked a book from a high shelf that held no title, an inscribed yellow symbol as its label. Curious, Kylesa opened it to the first page. His eyebrows

furrowed slightly, finding it to be blank. He flipped to the next page only to find it empty as well. He began quickly shifting through the pages in frustration, and flung it to the side as he found nothing. He sighed, massaging his temples; the book was a symbol of his vain efforts here. He bent down to pick the book up to place it back in its rightful place but quickly stopped as it opened to a page as he grabbed it in his hands. There, in the center of the page was a short passage of writing.

Camilla: You, sir, should unmask.

Stranger: Indeed?

Cassilda: Indeed it's time. We have all laid aside disguise but you.

Stranger: I wear no mask.

Camilla: (Terrified, aside to Cassilda.) No mask? No mask!

The monk frowned, slightly unsettled by the short verse. It was written as though it was meant for a play, but with only one act availible to his vision. He flipped to the next page to find blank parchment awaiting him. "Strange," he muttered softly to himself. He closed the book and set it aside with the other books that had caught his eye.

It was already dawn outside, he figured he should find an inn to stay the night. The monk packed up the books in a satchel and left, making his way through the busy streets of the floating city.

Kylesa awoke with a stretch and a yawn. It had been long since he slumbered so freely, and it felt fantastic. He looked to his bed side table and his eyes were met with a book, wide open. Examining it closer, he found it to be the same book from yesterday, the book with no name. This time, a single line was printed on the median of the page.

Cassilda: Not upon us, oh, king! Not upon us!