Canna awoke in near darkness, his head throbbing painfully, as if it had been caught in a vice. The cold, damp air clung to him, and the scent of stone and earth filled his lungs. With a groan, he pushed himself up from the uneven ground, feeling the weight of fatigue pressing heavily on him. His body felt weak, utterly drained from the ordeal he had endured.
As his vision gradually cleared, Canna realized he was in an enormous stone chamber, deep underground. The walls, rough and unadorned, were stark in their simplicity—cold, gray stone, illuminated faintly by dim shafts of light that somehow filtered in from unknown cracks above. He knew this place—the bottom level of the dungeon where Tonitrum, the mighty dragon, is sealed. His history of this place pressed in on him.
