Several months earlier

I stood my ground in the middle of my bottle, blue wings unfurled, spiked head held high. No man would stop me, let alone hold me captive. Centuries of imprisonment would not break me.

The mage in front of me just looked at me, a smirk on her face. In her gloved hands was a whip, its tip glowing red. "Not even out of the bottle yet and already feisty. I'd tone it down, dragon. You're not my first thrall."

An enraged roar reverberated the air in my container. Dragons weren't servants. How dare a humanoid even insinuate such? If I were outside this cursed glass bottle, I would tear her to shreds with my talons.

"Keep one thing in mind, thrall. No one will come rescue you. No one will care about you. Try to flee, and I will personally see to it that your wings are clipped. Disobey command, and punishment will follow." She looked at me menacingly, but it only made me bare my fangs at her. Threats didn't scare me. There was nothing she alone could do to stop me, let alone kill me.

The mage tapped the handle of her whip against her chin. "I see. You'll learn it the hard way soon enough." With a few mutterings, a glowing cage emerged in the room, large enough to hold me if I were my true size. Then, she reached out and pulled the cork of my container.