Prologue

He prowled restlessly. Anxious. Agitated. Back and forth. End to end. Over and over. Endlessly repeated after a thousand years of rest.

The flames danced around him. Taunting, biting, stroking. The heat at once pleasant and painful. A kiss and a slap. A caress and a jab.

The bars were weakening. The time was coming. His time was almost here.

Again.

His long, coarse hairs brushed against the icy metal. His scaled, spiked tail slammed against the black bars of entrapment, the whine of the failing metal music to his ears.

Soon.

The humans were finally succumbing to the dark. To the anger. To the charms of the Oppressor.

But there was still one who could guarantee his victory. Or hinder it. One who owned the key to all that would come.

Fire roared from his mouth. The flames soared between the thin spaces of the bars—the only part of him permitted to escape. For now.

Soon. His day was almost here.

The Year of the Dragon had arrived. This time, he would be freed.