Downtown is a mountain of glass and steel carved with crisscrossed with canyons. Cars fill the air flying people hither and yonder. Lights shine from windows, from signs, from headlights, from street lamps. Here it is never night.
Above this beacon of light a dragon circles, wings slapping against the air like drums. Not too close, lest the city’s defenses take notice of the grand flying lizard. The lightning net has burnt it once too many times. There are other places it could hunt but it longs for the feast just out of reach. So it circles the city watching for a hole in the net, waiting for the day it can feast.
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