A boy's frozen fingers slipped on the icy rock, and he nearly fell off the mountain. He caught himself and kept climbing. At the top he crawled into a black cave that smelled of old smoke. Deep inside, one huge yellow eye slid open. "Go away, child," the dragon rumbled. "Please," the boy gasped. "The Ashen Legion is coming. They burn my village at sunrise. You're the last dragon. You have to fight them." The eye narrowed. "I don't fight. Not anymore."

"I won't fight," the dragon said. "But fighting isn't the only way to win." It rose up, enormous, scales scraping the stone. "The Ashen Legion fears two things. Old magic, and the dark. Lucky for your village, I am both." It crawled toward the gray morning light. "Come, boy. We have until sunrise to be clever."