“Aah…” Ketal couldn’t help but let out a gasp, his eyes utterly transfixed by the red dragon sprawled before him. For a long moment, he simply stared, bewitched by the living legend that had appeared at the heart of the lair.0

He remembered how far he’d come since leaving the White Snowfield. He’d witnessed many wonders and horrors along his journey—liches with eyes that burned with deathless fire, ogres who could split boulders with a single blow, the slithering forms of basilisks, the ethereal beauty of elves, even merfolk and demons of the deep sea. He had seen with his own eyes the kind of creatures one would normally only encounter in the wildest tales and fever dreams.0

Each time, he had felt awe, amazement, even a touch of reverence. Those feelings were still vivid within him, memories etched in the marrow of his bones. However, none of them could compare to what he felt now.0

He was before a dragon. The very word held a weight beyond the sum of its letters. The ultimate symbol of fantasy and myth was now standing right in front of him, vast and real.0

The dragon’s scales were a radiant crimson, their luster undimmed by the countless jewels that lined the cavern walls. It was as though each scale had been carved from living ruby, every inch of its massive body cloaked in a shifting, glittering armor of gemstones.0

Its wings, unfurled even in slumber, seemed broad enough to blanket...0