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Malvat was brooding.

His tail swished across the cold marble floor as his silver eyes roamed the vast chamber, seeing nothing. His thoughts overpowered his minds. As was his habit, he rubbed his hands around his horns as he pondered the situation.

Delernious was gone. The man’s health had finally snapped, leaving him dead on the street as his enemies triumphed about him. He had left behind an ailing wife and beautiful daughter who was too scared to do anything to aid Malvat.

Once upon a time Malvat had thought that he and Delernious could have possibly been friends, despite the fact that Delernious was a mankind and Malvat most certainly was not. No, Malvat was one of the High Races of the Amandril-folk, part mythical creature and therefore entitled to all manner of honors. Yet those honors had failed him.

He knew his mistake now. He realized that he was bringing his own doom upon him. So, he thought, if he could only accomplish the one task that he desired most in the world, perhaps the emptying of sand in his hourglass would be meaningful.

One task. One longing. One purpose for life.

Revenge.

Malvat smiled, the word tasting sweet on his tongue. Mankind would fall beneath his stroke for what they had done to him, to the Amandril-folk, to the world. They would become history, as Malvat would. But they would be infamous. Malvat would be a hero.

Closing his eyes, Malvat let himself relax, shifting into his dragon form. He barely felt his skin stretch and harden into ebony scales as he took up more than half of the cavernous hall. Despite the fact that he would lose his life in this endeavor, despite the fact that there were those who defied him, despite the fact that he was on a deadline, he would prevail. Mankind would fall.

Why is there air beneath my wings? And why is it scalding?

Malvat’s silver eyes popped open and he looked beneath him in amazement. A fiery inferno blazed beneath him as he flew towards a lone platform upon which a few shapes huddled. What–