Khereshilthanal/Ignis

The self of a mere few centuries ago would not have even understood the concept of putting words on paper, but now, after so long hidden among men, it is as familiar to me as eating, as breath. It is the only salve for my loneliness, pitiful balm though it is for such a vast wound. I dare not get too close to any human, for fear I shall give myself away, and of my own kind I am, insofar as I have been able to determine, the last by at least a century. And so I write, that I may at least talk to myself of those things which weigh so heavily upon my soul.
Soul... there is another idea which I once thought little of. A dragon, if not killed, may live nearly forever, and so has little reason to think of something beyond this life, but I have had much occasion to think of these things since I last saw one of my kin so many years ago. Will I see them again after I die? Or will dragon-kind be extinguished eternally when I finally succumb to one of the myriad threats that seek my life? If you are reading this, I have likely discovered the answer.
This brings me to my purpose—to write so that my memories will not perish with me. So know this, my mortal slayer—I had my infancy before Rome was an Empire, and Augustus was still Octavian in my youth. Had I known then to watch the affairs of men, I could have seen many events which I now know to be of great import to the world.
But that is one thing you humans do not understand—to a dragon in the time of our prime, suggesting that we pay attention to the affairs of men would be like telling a man his cattle are planning to rise up in revolt against him. We were proud, supremely confident in our own near-immortality, not truly comprehending the sentience of other beings in the world.
We were wrong.
We missed the signs of humanity's growing power. We did not see when the other magical creatures of the world started falling. We were too secure in our power, too proud to see beyond ourselves and our hunger for gold. When some of us started falling to the humans, we thought those who died weak.
We understood too late how wrong we were.
Those last years... when we finally began to learn. Dragons learn slowly, but when we learn, we learn our lesson well. In those years we came to know fear, something we had thought ourselves immune to. But those of us who survived into those times knew it, knew to shudder at the scent of concentrated Dragonsbane, came to dread the sound of armed men nearing our lairs. We sought to fight back, thought of ways to defend ourselves, but it was too late.
And so I thought to hide.
I know not what happened to the last few of my kin, whether they too were slain, or if they too sought to hide. I only know that it has been more than two centuries since I last heard of any reports of dragons I could consider reliable in the least. And so I am alone.
For the last few centuries I have hidden among human kind. And I have learned something of them. As I said, dragons are slow to learn, but what we learn, we learn well. I could tell you of things of your past which no living man knows, if I cared to tell, but it is enough for me now that you tell your own tale of your history. When I am dead, it shall be as if none ever knew it, and I am too weary now to care.
I think sometimes that I am weary of life, that I would rather reveal myself and die as a dragon instead of continue to live as a man. Thus far, I have not been so. Thus far, I struggle to live. Perhaps if you are reading this, I have grown tired of the struggle, the fear, the loneliness, the pain, the eternal ache of the hunger for gold.
You who slew me, know that you have killed the last of the dragons, for whatever joy it will give you. I have not sought to harm you nor your kin for centuries, and indeed, have sometimes even been of service. All you have done is slain a lonely, pathetic creature, one with no hope of continuing his species. You could likely have let time do your work for you. But perhaps I welcomed death. Perhaps I should thank you. I know not.

And so, I bid you farewell, reader. May you have more joy from life than it gave to me.

Khereshilthanal, the Last Dragon