A voice whispered through the blackness. Centuries upon
centuries have passed since sound had been heard.

"Cyric," the voice spoke again, using his more common
name.

The beast finally opened his eyes after his age long slumber.

"What do you wish of me?"

"Your time has come, Great One. Your destiny is upon
you. The Ancient Gods of Alanthia have fled, leaving the
Younger Gods of the Three Moons to rule. The time is
coming, Lord, and I've been sent to awaken you."

The Black Wyrm remained motionless, surrounded by the
immense walls of his mountain cavern, mulling over this
welcome news. "How did you get in here? My home had
been sealed by the Ancient Ones, never to be reopened
while they remained in power. My slumber was much the
same, induced by them to keep me from attaining my
goals."

"Aye, Lord. The Master of my order transported me here
by magical means. He sent me here to awaken you and offer
the order's support in your cause." The young man was
getting nervous, his eyes shifting from the great red
eyes of the Dragon before him to the amazing wealth of
Ancient Magic surrounding him.

Cyriclasn'bael chuckled to himself. "Your master seeks the
Ancient Magic. I am not so newly awakened to not realize
this, little one."
With those words, the dragon lashed out with his long tail
to capture the small human within it. "Tell your Master
that his support is unnecessary and unwanted. And the
messenger superfluous."

A smile cracked the great maw of the Beast, revealing the
dozens of razor sharp teeth and fangs.

Many days later, reports began filtering throughout the lands
that many sightings have been made of Draconic activity in
the Northern Mountains. Not more than a week after,
news of razed villages were to follow. No one knew from
where this Black Destroyer came, or what his
intentions were.

But the Master of the Black Order knew to be afraid.