The first sensation was the cold.

It was a deep, penetrating chill that seeped into bones he hadn’t truly felt in over a century. Harold clutched the torn curtain tighter around his shoulders, his teeth beginning to chatter. As a dragon, cold was a distant concept, his internal furnace rendering the world a place of manageable temperatures. Now, the simple draft from the shattered manor windows felt like a Siberian wind. It was terrifying. It was magnificent.

Reed, ...