Listen, my vicious darlings, for this world is strange and full of promise, and when you awake, there is much you’ll need to know. Long ages after humans last encountered a real, waking dragon, there was a man called Dennis Knight.

He was no knight, my precious treasures. The name itself was vanity. But he was what passes for a prince in this age: a wealthy man, ruler of a strange and far-flung kingdom, he wielded his gold as a weapon more brutal than any sword, as princes have always done (and I should know). Like most princes, his wealth did not make him happy, yet he sought happiness through gathering more wealth.

People say that even before he met me, Dennis Knight fancied himself an adventurer like knights of old. He traveled to distant lands, killed great beasts not for their meat, but for trophies. He possessed astonishing armor that let him dive deep beneath the sea, unearthing sunken ships and claiming their hoards. I am told he sought even to conquer the moon. Dennis Knight had bested so many so-called challenges, rendered simple by his wealth, that he grew discontent. My little sparks, he was bored, and that’s when he began studying dragons.

Over the ages, humans have turned dragons into myths, and those myths made dragons into monsters. Stories told of dragons burning villages, dragons capturing and consuming innocent damsels, dragons mindless and cruel. Slander, all! But one thing they remembered truly: of course, they remembered our hoards.

And despite the vastness of his wealth, more than he could ever hope to use, it was dragon-hoards that obsessed Dennis Knight. His money procured him every journal, every tome, every crumbling map. Donations, a mere pittance to him, ensured the ear of any scholar he wished. When he located a dragon lair, buried by memory and time, he wished to unearth it himself.

And that, my bright-winged babes, is how he woke me up.

I woke to tremors in the solid rock around me. It did not put me in a kindly mood after my long sleep—too long! I’d sought slumber while I waited out an age of pestilence and misery offering our kind no sustenance, but I sensed at once that I had slept long past that age’s end. I could not guess how the world had changed in that time, but the great roaring machines clawing a new entrance to my cave suggested it had changed greatly. In those first waking moments, it seemed changed beyond recognition (though I soon learned that only the surface of things was unfamiliar; their essence was the same).

I uncoiled myself from my comfortable golden hoard and stretched my wings wide, stoking my flames, ready to punish whatever knight had disturbed me. And that is when I scented Dennis Knight.

When you smell greed for the first time, my ravishing pups, you will know it. Even though you’ve never scented it before, you’ll recognize it in your scales, your sinews, your bones. A greedy man makes a tasty morsel, and a greedy man with wealth is the most scrumptious of all.

(This is important, my shining gems: wealth does not alleviate greed in humans, but only feeds it, like drinking poison and calling it medicine. Their hoards are minted from the sweat and blood of those who have too little already, and we merely take from the already-rich that which they never deserved—and which is safer in our care. Humans rarely thank us for freeing them of greed-sick lords and their toxic treasures, but they ought to.)

I planted myself between my hoard and this pallid, arrogant human.

“Why have you woken me?” I knew the answer, but it’s customary to ask.

The fool gawked up at me, too hoard-sick to fear me as he should. “Incredible! I never thought . . . Alive, after so long! How could it . . . Oh, we’ll figure that out later. Charles, call the contractor, tell them we need, I don’t know, nets! Strong nets, and more tranquilizers.”

Charles—a squire, it seemed, so meek I hadn’t noticed him—took two steps backward. His respect was admirable. “Mister Knight, sir . . .”

“Knight?” Steam seeped from my nostrils as I laughed. “If you are a knight, then your age has far lowered its standards.”

“It talks! This is even better than I dreamed.”

Charles craned his neck up at me, and his voice sank lower. “. . . I think we should run now, sir.”

“Nonsense.” The greed rose off Knight in waves, almost overpowering my good sense with hunger. Almost. He aimed a strange metal device at me, and I knew quite well the look of a prince brandishing a weapon. “If you can talk, you can understand me, right? So behave, or I’ll blow your brains out.”

An empty threat, for his greed wanted me alive. The reverse was not true.

“Maybe the army is better equipped . . .” Charles tried again.

“You should listen to your squire.” I slithered forward on my front claws, my belly dragging satisfyingly over my pile of gold, until my head was level with theirs. “You can stay or go, squire. My interest is in your prince.”

Up close, Knight’s scent was heady, more potent than any morsel I’d smelled before. Had hunger sharpened my senses, or time dulled my memory? Or was this new age that much richer with greed than those past?

Might there be an unparalleled feast waiting for me outside?

I opened my jaws, debating how best to enjoy Dennis Knight.

His weapon clicked, a sound so subtle that I did not immediately connect it to the sting: a dart, caught in the leathery spread of my wing.

I should have eaten him then, and quickly, but this strange new weapon alarmed me. Was it poison? A spell? The skin around the dart felt numb. I spread my wings and leapt skyward, fleeing while I could. I would satisfy my hunger, and soon, but not yet.

I recovered soon enough from the dart’s poison and set about exploring this world. I discovered much, far too much to share in one story. Later, my patient nippers, I will teach you how to survive in this new age: how to evade their cruel new weapons, when to hide and when to fight. I’ll show you what castles look like now: not the gleaming towers of glass you might be drawn to, where innocent damsels and peasants serve; nor the apparent fortresses, those vast ugly constructs where serfs now toil to exhaustion indoors instead of under the sun; but the gleaming-white mansions where the princes sleep.

And there are so many princes here, my ravenous loves! Men and women smothered in greed, simmering in their wealth like the richest of sauces. The greed of humans had grown a thousand-fold while I slept, a million-fold, with no dragons to keep them in check.

It was simple to track Dennis Knight’s scent to his castle, though it was far from my lair, over mountains and plains and across a broad ocean. I found his factory-fortresses, too, by following his squires. Knight ruled his peasants from afar, passing down orders and never dirtying himself with a visit. (Princes never change, though the gap between them and their peasants yawns wider than ever.) I bided my time, patient despite my stomach’s growling. I waited for my chance to seize the sweetest morsels.

That moment came when Knight held a party to celebrate his new-won riches—my treasures, stolen. It was beyond bold to flaunt his theft, but as I have told you, he was hoard-sick, and greed made him foolish. He had his mercenary knights out attempting to capture me, but still had no fear of me, certainly not in his own castle.

Dragons know well how to destroy castles. This one wasn’t even made of stone.

I peeled off the roof, savoring the rising smell of so many princes packed together, marinating in each other’s greed. A blast of flame quick-roasted most, preserving them for later, though I took care to limit my feasting to the princes, and let the servants go. The mercenaries guarding the castle fled rather than protect their prince.

And Dennis Knight, that thieving false knight? He tried to plead, but I did not spare time to listen and taunt him; I ate him in two quick bites. I was hungry, and besides, it’s poor manners to play with your food.

And thus I found a new lair for you, my long-awaited eggs. I’ve nestled you in my reclaimed hoard, swollen now with the additions of Dennis Knight’s jewels and fine artwork. More knights and princes will no doubt come, drawn by tales of danger and adventure. They will try to capture us or kill us, inspired by the knights of old. But do not be afraid, my slumbering nestlings! I am awake now, full-bellied and strong, and I’ll keep you safe in this castle until you’re ready to hatch into this world.

And what a world! Such an overflow of greed awaits us. Humanity is rotten with it, and who better to cull the greed-sick from their ranks?

Grow strong within your eggs, my devastating dears. Nurse your hunger, and when you emerge, we will feast.