Few dared to venture toward the Kalvark Mountains, and with good reason. Not only were there dangerous creatures, the very ground threatened to kill, making it almost entirely inhabitable. There were a few brave, possibly foolish, beings who made their home at the base. However, the peaks of the great mountains were home only to one: the Shadow Dragon. It wasn't so bad, or so she reminded herself. Though the volcano was dormant, heat still radiated from the core and kept her warm. Not that she needed it; being a dragon had its perks. However, her home was slowly becoming a burden rather than a haven. Once, she had been mighty, worshiped by all races alike. She was revered as a wise and powerful being, always able to provide the right words or actions. It had been the life everyone aspired to have, but only dragons received. That time had long passed, and while hiding away her artifact protected the world from evils, she longed for the grace she once reveled in. Puffing out smoke, she stretched her massive wings and yawned. She never stopped growing, which lead to her current size. It was becoming problematic, as she was outgrowing her claw-marked cave of a home. She'd carved the place herself, but she hadn't quite anticipated the growth she experienced almost daily. With a smoking huff, she pushed herself forward and out of her cave. At least on the precipice of her home, she could extend her extremities to their full length. From head to tail, she was over three hundred feet long with an equally sized wing span. Her claws curved into dangerous death tools, as did her teeth. But while she had many ways to kill, she rarely used them. She considered herself a diplomat and scholar, if dragons could be knowledge seekers. It was no reason to underestimate her. Then again, she hadn't seen any man or woman of any race for many decades to even be underestimated. Perhaps they'd all died and she hadn't heard about it. Then at least she would be revered by the non-sentient organisms surrounding her.