The dragon dwelled deep beneath the earth, the mountain, and the memory of mankind. Quiet, but angry, it lodged in the heart of the world and kept watch over the crystal that hung there, holding the world's first, and last true god.
It lifted a head as large as a barn and as broad across. It opened a maw that gaped like a cave and roared out a flame as wide and as forceful as rivers. The tongue of fire struck the walls, fanning out like liquid, and turned the heavy heartstone, black and veined in red, and melted it to a surface as smooth and reflective as glass. It stretched its talons and scarred a ground so scarred already that it had been carved into a bowl, and the basin of that bowl had been filled with stone dust ground so fine it could have been powder. It was the world's greatest mortar and pestle, grinding, and grinding away, until there were nothing left.
It looked up at the ceiling above with eyes as large as dinner plates and flared its great nostrils.
It roared, and the earth shook.
Men had entered its cavern. Men had not entered this cavern for a hundred years.
And yet, the presence of men had brought an end to solitude. Somewhere in the back of its mind, it remembered men. It remembered laughter and joy, sorrow and pain, and when it drew itself up in challenge, it saw them then as it had seen them before.
And it remembered.
It remembered the greenery of the plains and the blue of a sky, the red of earth and the red of dawn and the red of dusk. It remembered a church as tall as that sky and when it heard the chattering of the little beasts, it remembered talking, too. It remembered talking to the priest.
The dragon rose and roared at them.
"The Chainer! Betrayer! False Friend!"
Some of the sticks they were holding erupted in a thunderous cacophony that echoed around the cavern, and he was harmed by what seemed to be zipping insects, digging into his scales. Few of them penetrated, and the ones that did itched enough to annoy him.
Dragonfire scoured the first line of soldiers. The mouth of the Dragon's cave was narrow, too narrow for escape. He had tried to drag his bulk through it before and failed, as his predecessors had failed before him. Now, looking at the entrance again, he could see that the flagstone supports had been bashed off by too-wide shoulders, ruined by his ancestors as well as he himself. The remaining humans fled backwards and revealed several smaller ones, burning bright as his own dragonfire, flickering like sparks of ember in the angry destruction of his power and seeming to soak in the soft, incandescent light of the great crystal that he had been set to guard.
The Embers stood with hands outstretched, and they spoke in a language that he vaguely remembered but could no longer understand. Perhaps it had not just been a hundred years; he suspected, in his great, predator's brain, that it had been centuries since he had seen another human being. They had disappeared from his consciousness along with his sorrows, his regrets, and his memories. But he could remember them now.
The little flickering shields they held up looked like bells, and protected them from his fire. He turned his head to the side to get a good look at them, and at the other person they were protecting. The glint of metal caught his eye, and his attention was drawn first to the long spear that the man, armored all in gray metal, had brandished defiantly at him.
Of course, the man was a fool. He almost smote him with a great claw, a talon as long as any falchion and just as sharp, but Dragon hesitated. Something else pricked his memory.
The spear looked familiar. Again, Dragon roared at him, willing him to go away as a foggy tinge of fear began to mingle with His anger. Dragon roared at him. "Leave! Begone!"
And yet the man came on with the spear wielded in his good hands. Dragon spread his arms, spread the great, scaled, leathery wings that were as thick and as buoyant as sailcloth, and buffeted them backwards with gusts of air, using his chains as leverage to keep himself upon the ground. Again and again he beat the stale air of the cavern, moved air that had not been moved in centuries, blew the dust of the stone at them until he nearly choked on it himself. The whole of the cavern became covered in it, so that the sharp blue radiance of the crystal fractured through the motes and created a shroud of strange brilliance and tepid darkness, and he and his enemies were shadows and fire themselves.
Again he roared and spouted his gout of flame, and again the shimmering shields came up to ward him off. Inch by inch they came closer, and the Dragon could not back. There was nowhere to back to. He snapped his teeth and gnashed at them, but they would not break their inexorable line. When they were close enough that he could swipe at them he did, and there is where he seemed to make his progress.
One of those motes of light extinguished with a scream as his talons ripped into her. He barely felt any resistance at all. The dragon had been down here for so long that he had forgotten even the semblance of contact with humans, but it ignited that spark for him again. Before they could drag their comrade back he snapped down with his serpentine head, quick as any surface reptile, and scarfed the young woman whole. She almost burned his tongue, but he swallowed at the last second, and she was lost to his hunger and knowledge.
Another Ember suffered the same fate. He had drawn them into the cavern, though that had not been his intention, and now the Dragon forgot his fear. At least, he buried it solidly in rage, and an appetite that he had not remembered he had possessed until it had been felt. His fear eased, replaced by hunger, and he ate. When the shields faltered, he burned. The cavern filled with the stench of fire and blood.
He snapped down on the most horrifying of the wretches that had invaded his home, but he found, when he did, that he could not snap down hard enough. Pain pierced his maw and he breathed fire that did not touch the man with the spear, who had plucked up his courage and proved brave enough to step forward. The dragon's fire died then, and he felt his soul and being rent asunder, taken out of his mortal body as it had been placed within it – through pain, and betrayal, and a final violent blow.