The dragon's name was Tharaxis, and it had been awake for the entire century it spent guarding the princess.
"The runes require consciousness," Tharaxis explained, shifting to let us examine the chains more closely. "If I sleep, the seal weakens. The briars creep in." It gestured with one massive claw toward the thorns that had begun growing over the chains. "As you can see, even waking vigilance is barely enough."
I studied the runes. They were old magic, the kind that predated the Tower's current system. "These need to be recharged. They're running on residual mana from a century ago."
"Correct," Tharaxis said. "The king's court mages are long dead. The kingdom is long dead. Only I remain, and my mana is incompatible with human enchantments."
