1195
It was a pleasure to burn the books. It was the year of book burning.
The year I was assigned to collect all the books in the town hall of Córdoba — the Pearl of Andalus, where East met West. We had flourished with over seventy universities and ninety-two thousand shops.
I was created for one reason: to serve the Caliph. He designed me with the number 1195 inscribed on my vest — built to swallow all the books of Córdoba.
The papers and the ink kept me alive and moving. I could digitize the books as I swallowed them. I was the most advanced dragon model.
The ink and the pages would turn to fire and ashes. I would charge, spit fire dust, and burn the books — until my mission was complete. Not knowing that my fire, that is my time, was finite.