Raging waves crashed against jagged, black rocks, their fury rolling onto the shoreline. Standing at the bow of the Dragon's Bounty, Queen Rowena gazed directly ahead, unperturbed despite the sting of the salt spray which doused both her and the ship. Torrents of rain soaked through clothing and hair. But she would not be troubled. Nothing would sway her from her quest.

'This is it!' she cried above the relentless winds. 'Captain, this is the Island.'

'Your Majesty, I implore you! We must turn back! The vessel will not survive the storm.'

'Do as your Queen commands,' she snapped. Violet rays of light streamed through her clenched fists. By way of her will, she held the creaking ship together as it groaned in protest.

'Magic,' the Captain muttered uneasily.

'Magic which will keep you alive. Now, take us close to the island and drop anchor.' Eyes closed in concentration, she focused on all the rage and hatred that consumed every ounce of her being. It fueled her power.

My sister's coronation. Bearing witness to the Amethyst Crown being set upon your undeserving head, whilst you simpered and smiled at the adoring crowd. You cowed to the threat of the Northern Kingdoms, and handed them our precious resources until none remained. You spoke of peace. Those same kingdoms have brought us all low. If only you could see. For years I have hunted you, yet always you elude me. I will restore our kingdom, so we might be feared and respected once more. I am a more fitting monarch. And Father. The expression of pride on his face each time he looked at you. Both of you weak. Both pathetic.

She fingered the blade concealed within her sleeve.

As I drove a dagger through father's heart, I feared you would follow in his path. The weak are unworthy to rule. You are unworthy. As you fled into exile, you served only to prove the truth of it. A coward has no worth. You will pay for the damage you have wrought. From your ashes, my kingdom shall rise.

When at last they reached land by way of rowboat, the queen stepped off first. Striding ahead of her retinue, her two most loyal lords joined her, equal in their eagerness to reach their destination. In place of sand existed shards of sharp, black stone. All seemed desolate here, with nary a plant or animal in sight. A barren, soulless place. Apt for the Isle of Shadows. The surfaces of the shards shone as though having been polished, slick and soaked by the torrential rain. Rowena made her way across them, and gazed up at the mighty spire that rose high into the sky. Shaped as a needle, it ended in a perfect point. A presence pervaded the air, its malignant energy rippling over the island. Magic.

The soldiers muttered uneasily among themselves. 'Your Majesty,' Lord Hawthorn murmured. 'Something feels amiss about this place.'

She locked eyes with the man in irritation. 'Any who join me will be richly rewarded, while those who falter in fear shall name this place their grave. I have no use for cowards or traitors.'

'Yes, Your Majesty.' Faithfully, he fell into line behind her.

Rowena quickened her pace, envigored by the sight of the spire.

Stone crunched beneath their feet as they marched onwards for many a mile. 'Do not tarry!' Rowena commanded. 'We draw near.'

This time, Lord Ageradale raised concern. 'As you are aware, the temple is guarded, and could be laden with traps. What if—'

'Keep your nerve. Everyone present vowed to me that they were prepared for anything. Did you misspeak?'

'No, Your Majesty. My loyalty to you is—'

A shrill call interrupted them, as three monstrosities came upon them from above, bellowing a challenge. Shadows of creatures, stripped of their bodies. Too small to be dragons, their lengthy tails curled behind them like a barbed whip, and thorny spikes adorned their bodies. Wyverns. Or a twisted likeness thereof. Fixing its blood-red eyes on Rowena, with a screech the largest of them barreled towards her. Wings tucked against their bodies, the other two dove towards the soldiers.

Shields locked, swords drawn, spears readied, the proud men of Loreilas held their formation tight, grim-faced and determined. 'Your Majesty, fall back!' Lord Hawthorn demanded, drawing his sword from his scabbard.

'I fear no creature,' Rowena declared.

Reaching out, the queen called to her the arcane, binding it to her will. Like an inferno, it coursed through her veins, her flesh, vying for domination. But Rowena would not be overcome. Directing the forces of chaos towards her hands, they gathered at her fingertips, where they began to coalesce into a glowing sphere of purple light. With one final effort, the Queen of Loreilas set loose the lethal manifestation of her hatred and rage. Directing it towards the lead wyvern, she blasted the beast out of the sky, sending it hurtling to the ground. The creature's body writhed and twisted in the air as it descended, its shadowy wings withering. Colliding with the rocks below, the perverted imitation of life poured over the ground like smoke, leaving naught in its wake but a black, scorching fluid.

Rowena breathed heavily with the exertion, her essence severely depleted. Exhaustion took hold, her legs threatening to falter. Only a tiny vestige of power remained, and she would not see it wasted on another wyvern.

The two remaining creatures gave out agonised shrieks as they halted their descent. Wings outstretched, they writhed in the air. Their heads snapped towards the queen herself, hateful red eyes fixed. They dove once more.

'Protect the Queen!' Lord Hawthorn shouted as the soldiers formed ranks, surrounding her. Clashing against the wall of wood and metal the wyverns seemed to contort and twist, wrapping their tails round the shields and dissolving them with caustic shadows which issued from their maws. The men swung and thrust for the creatures, yet made no purchase as their blades passed harmlessly through their incorporeal bodies. Their javelins soared, yet it mattered not. One by one they fell, their weaponry dissolving into liquid metal.

'Time to go, your Majesty!' Lord Hawthorn shouted, narrowly fending off a wyvern as it rushed towards her. Thrumming with magical energy, his sword succeeded in cutting into the shadowy form, spilling black blood as it soared past.

In a bid to save them, Rowena drew upon what remained of her depleted power. A hand grabbed hers, interrupting the casting. Lord Ageradale. 'My Queen! The temple!' He looked towards the spire with greedy eyes. Rowena glanced between the lord and the men who fought for her glory. She gave a single nod.

With all quickness they crossed the slippery terrain, leaving the brave soldiers to their fate.

Lord Ageradale panted as they reached the temple door. He glanced behind them as a soldier let out a tortured cry. 'Might I suggest we proceed with haste?'

The temple door seemed to be made of the same substance as the shore itself had been. Rowena ran her hand along the runes and spoke the words she had practiced so diligently, 'Yrth Nu'anth!' An ethereal glow began to radiate from the runes as they rotated clockwise. Rowena shielded her eyes as the light grew brighter. A piercing shriek sounded out, almost in answer.

The runes faded into nothingness, and the air around the rock face began to shimmer and pulsate. The ground beneath them rumbled and shook in agony, and with a loud crack did a fissure appear. Gradually it widened, cloven in two. Through the split in the rock lay a long, narrow corridor.

Lord Ageradale wasted no time in stepping inwards. 'Quickly, Your Majesty!' he said, guiding his queen through. Once inside, Rowena released the magic bound to the runes, and again the entrance rumbled. Collapsing back on itself, the stone enclosed round the light outside, cutting them off from it. All went dark. The muffled shrieks of the wyverns continued outside. Rowena gritted her teeth against the sound of their claws scraping as they raked them against the rock face.

For the briefest of moments, Rowena leant against the wall, closing her eyes. 'Onwards,' she managed to gasp. A chamber lay ahead, lit torches flickering along its walls, reflecting against a jade marble floor. Intermittently they changed from blue, to green, to orange. Columns, made of the same marble as the floor, propped up a ceiling of obsidian. At its centre, a waist-high plinth of marble stood, a single, golden goblet resting atop, its contents a deep red fluid.

'I assume that is not filled with wine,' Lord Ageradale remarked. They stood just beyond the entrance, Rowena's eagle eyes darting in every direction, watchful of traps.

'It is said to infuse the consumer with untold abilities. Let us waste no more time,' she said, approaching the plinth purposefully. One hand clasping the goblet's stem, she hesitated, as if uncertain whether or not to drink.

'Your Majesty!' Lord Ageradale exclaimed, assuming an aura of alarm. 'Perhaps... I should drink from this. As a precaution. I would not see Her Majesty endangered unnecessarily.' His eyes narrowed with greed. Rowena recognised the same ruthlessness in the Lord that she held within. She even respected it. But it will be your downfall.

'You are a man most noble, Lord Ageradale. Worthy of your name.' She managed a dipping of her head, though it pained her to do so for such a simpering fool. Removing her hand, she took a step backwards.

He thinks he can manipulate me. Rowena held back the laughter which threatened to undo her.

With a low bow, cautiously he made his way towards the plinth.

Taking up the goblet, he twirled the stem, unable to prevent a jubilant smile from spreading across his face. Placing its rim to his lips, he drank long and deep, draining it of all liquid.

'Well, Lord Ageradale?' Rowena asked, anticipation growing. 'How do you feel?'

'Strange...' he said hesitantly. 'Different. Powerful, almost.' His skin began to take on a bluish-grey colour before fading back to its natural state. 'What is happening to me?' his breathing became shallow, laboured, and he looked as though he bore a great sickness.

'Magic,' Rowena smiled. 'Draconic essence, flowing through your veins.'

'Draconic essence?' Lord Ageradale asked, his expression one of concern. 'Will it...empower me?' He looked down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them.

'Of course. You have proven yourself worthy.'

Lord Ageradle's expression remained doubtful.

'Be proud, my Lord. You are helping ensure a bright future for our Kingdom, now come.'

'Ready yourself. We are about to achieve everything we have strived for these last years.'

Retrieving a flickering torch from the walls, she proceeded to the final chamber, Lord Ageradale trailing behind. If not for the light emanating from the torch, which reflected against a nearby column of immense proportions, they would have been enveloped in complete darkness. The walls and ceiling stood enshrouded, consumed by the unnatural shadow that pervaded this colossal place. Walking the jade floor, she soon felt several dents underfoot. Lowering her torch to look, deep intricate grooves lay carved into the marble. The dragon's hollow. All manner of city lay depicted here. Castles, citadels, homes, all crumbled under the Black Dragon's rage. Not since the first Rowena, my namesake, has there been any as worthy as I.

'Look well, Lord Ageradale. We have found the key to our success.'

'I assumed there would be runes of some kind,' he said. With narrowed, fatigued eyes he gazed round the expansive room.'This surely cannot be all there is?' Overcome with curiosity, he bent and peered down at the magnificent carving. 'Your Majesty...' he broke off his words with a fit of coughing, eyes bulging. 'What is happening to me? What have you done?' He attempted to draw his sword, but had not the strength. Dropping it to the ground, the ill-fated lord fell to his knees.

Rowena placed her torch upon the floor. Slipping the gem-encrusted dagger she had hereto kept hidden within her sleeve into her hand, she crouched down beside him. Her prey mumbled unintelligibly. Lifting his head with one hand, in a single, swift movement, Rowena carved open his throat. Lord Ageradale let loose one final gurgle, as he reached for a breath that would not come.

'By way of your death, you shall at last serve your queen with faithful supplication.'

His corrupted blood flowed freely, pooling on the floor. Rowena watched as it ran through the grooved streets of the city, mesmerised by the promise it brought. She began to chant in elvish. Softly at first, then steadily growing louder until her voice reached a crescendo. With a final shout, she cried, 'Black Dragon of old, arise!'

The ground at first quivered. And then it shook. Greater this grew, until at last the queen could barely remain standing. Dark tendrils of smoke began to curl upwards from below. Towards her they drifted, as though investigating their surroundings. A few came together in the shape of a clawed hand. Reaching for her face, it enclosed around her, falling away as it made contact. Rowena reached out and played with the dark strands, her fingertips running through them in caress. She smiled. After a time, the shadows blew aside, and rushing away travelled into the blackness beyond. Torch held aloft, her anticipation grew to its apex.

'Black Dragon, hear my call!'

A gout of flame answered her, accompanied by blood-red, slitted eyes. Only for a moment could she sight the beast's form. And how magnificent she found it.

'I command thee!' she declared triumphantly.

A deep rumble echoed throughout the chamber. Laughter. 'You? Command me?' he snarled. 'You have no power.'

'No sorceress in all the kingdoms may claim themselves my equal!' she declared. 'I have freed you, dragon.'

With another short burst of flame, his unfathomable dark form presented itself once more. 'Yes, that you have. And now you seek to hold me in chains of your own design. You are a fool to think me so mindless.'

'You are bound to me, dragon,' Rowena snarled. 'The words have been spoken!'

'No, little witch, you are bound to me. And I find you wanting.'

A torrent of flame burst forth from the dragon's gaping maw, engulfing the chamber.

'No!' Rowena cried, as she became surrounded on all sides. 'I summoned you! I have come too far!'

Despair took hold, and angry tears began to prick the corners of her eyes. 'You answer to me!'

'Die well, little witch.'

Rowena glanced round in desperation, the true extent of her plight dawning on her. No, this cannot be!

'Your kind will burn! All will fall to ash in my wake! You commanded me to arise, and arise I shall!' The dragon's maw spread wide as an inferno rose from its chest.

I failed. Rowena closed her eyes and screamed her last as the flames claimed her.