A hundred years have passed. The project is a failure. Our creations have only managed to produce weak, broken, bestial offspring. They are weak, these less-than-dragonkin, these...dragons. We have not created the future of our species, we have created an entirely new one. A weak species. Weak. Like we are under Her curse. The dragons are not affected, but they are too far removed from us to hold the key to our deliverance. I want to slaughter them all, these dragons, along with their Queen and King. Yet the part of me that clings to sanity reminds me that they may prove to be useful later on. I can...barely restrain myself. I have released the King into the wilds. The Queen is... different. She has my lifeblood. I have made her. Despite being a failure of a dragonkin, she has a degree of raw power that may yet prove useful. I have stored her deep underground, restrained and protected by magical artefacts I have created. They are both her shield and her prison, keeping her in a magical state of slumber with a protective field to fend off intruders. The dragons are a failure. This project is over, but the search for our freedom is not. I am Kerapac, the observer. I will find a way to free the dragonkin from Your curse. We will remove the shackles you put in place, and we will kill you.