Zaluraak lounged in his cramped cave atop a paltry pile of silver, lazily stirring coins with a single claw. The fortune dragon was sick of this meager existence. This dreary cavern barely qualified as a lair, this little heap barely qualified as a hoard, and the arcane essences he craved couldn’t be found anywhere nearby—no magical items, no trade routes, no undiscovered crypts, nothing. A tiny cave at the northern border of the Five Kings Mountains was unworthy of Zaluraak, who knew he was destined for unimaginable greatness. But to reach the heights he surely deserved, he needed power.