...The great dragon lay coiled upon his mountain, body scaling up to impossible size, each scale a gemstone catching and refracting light into colors that had no names. From his position between the worlds, he observed the small and desperate struggles of mortals with the patience of stone mountains. His kind would endure when empires fell to dust and dust itself forgot it had ever held a kingdom. This was not arrogance, merely fact. He was continuity itself, a living bridge between ages, ancient when the gods were young, and he would remain long after their conflicts had run their course. Somewhere far below, a dragon-rider prayed to him and received no answer, but the Ruby Dragon remembered her prayer, filed it away among the endless catalog of mortal devotions, knowing she and her line would serve dragonkind long after they believed themselves the masters of their own fates...