It's been two thousand years since her imprisonment, and the fire burns hotter than ever. She hisses and twines, but it only serves to constrict her further. The magic bindings are an ice that she cannot melt, and it cuts deep into her soul. Unable to sleep, she dreams of the time she will be free.

She senses their coming, knows well what they carry. Her mind is as sharp as it was on that day, so long ago. The minutes and moments and centuries and millennia wash over her, timeless. She knows what happens next, and, twisted, she waits.