The Ebon Dragon had been summoned from the very depths to be with his mistress, he had clawed his way up, unwinding slowly, his teeth still sharp and his gaze still keen. There had been a lot to do; information to gather, putting down the chin-mei and gathering what remained of their forces, as pitiful as it was. They had arrived to find their court in shambles, weakened considerably, scattered to the four winds. It was only the divine grace of their enemies on weakness that kept them from falling apart entirely.
The fall of Caine and the rise of his son, a somewhat more reserved god, had given them more time to prepare, and prepare they had. Now Ebon Dragon was ready and waiting, at the whim of the Scarlet Queen, ready to put into motion their return to power. Soon the Cainites would find themselves with a lot more to worry about than their own internal struggles.
In the grand hall of the temple, Ebon Dragon disengaged from the shadows, his hulking, powerful form a pool of darkness that moved towards the Scarlet Queen on her throne, to bend the knee.
“My Queen,” he rumbled. “We are ready.”