Under the crimson light of an Indian summer sunrise, Shawn Sullivan stood before the crumpled entrance of the Signal Hill crevasse known as Cap Nord. He knew that hidden deep within the hill, the dragon Dracus, protector of Hell’s Gate, awaited his return from Tibet. 

Without wavering, he retrieved an old leather pouch from his pocket. He knew that once he completed the task at hand, he would whet the appetite of his satanic foe and there would be no turning back. But it no longer mattered what Dracus wanted, it was what he wanted. Shawn sensed that he was no longer alone as he opened the pouch. He retrieved one of the Tibetan Crosses, defiantly emptied a decanter of holy water over it and tossed it into the crevasse. As he walked away, an emerald green glow slowly disappeared below the debris. 

The battle lines had been drawn. It was time.