In the heart of the bustling market of Aldhaven, the Dragon Chest sat unclaimed, its origins cloaked in mystery and its surface carved with intricate, serpentine designs. Legends whispered of treasures and curses alike, drawing the curious and the brave. As a collector of peculiar artifacts, I couldn't resist. With a key procured from an old wanderer, I opened the chest one dusky evening. The hinges creaked, echoing like distant thunder. Inside, amidst a faint, otherworldly glow, lay not gold nor jewels, but a tiny, slumbering dragon, its scales shimmering with a kaleidoscope of colors. Its breath, warm and rhythmic, filled the air with a scent of wildflowers and embers. I had expected many things, but not a guardian of forgotten magic, alive and breathing. The real treasure was a living legend.

The scales were torn and the dragon’s talons fell to the stone floor one last time. I watched as the beast heaved one last breath, and then it settled, eyes rolled back in its head, never to incite fear again. The silence was defeaning after such a battle.

And there it was: its chest, riddled with jewels and golden inscriptions. They said that beneath that layer of armored flesh was the greatest treasure anyone could find. I would be the first to find out, and with nobody to help me, I would take it all for myself.

I drew my sword and hacked, hacked a gems flew all over the crevice and fell to the snowy floor below. Hacked and hacked and looked at the bleeeint treasure within. But I hadn’t expected to find this …

Inside, there was nothing, save for a heart that would never beat again. All of this, the journey, the rumors, the grotesque murder of the beast in its own home, for nothing.

I jumped from the precipice with nothing but contempt in my heart and let the snow fall over me.

He followed rainbows into the dragons den,

Hoping they’d lead him to that mysterious pot of gold,

Only to find nothing but the ashes of those who came before

Dragon chest Forever hexed For the rest Even the best

What use the spoils of war, when there is no enjoyment in laying waste to another’s lands? No satisfaction in levelling cities; razing homes or churches to the ground, in conflagrations of such immensity, the gods themselves may have set them.

There is no satisfaction, either, in watching the seed of a nation trampled in the dust; the young—and not so young—men trading their futures at the ends of our swords. The unnecessary ruination of a people fighting in defence of their cowardly king. And for what? A mythical promise of eternal life in some heavenly utopia at the home of their own heathen gods?

There is no compassion, nor regret, when taking, or enjoying, the fruits of your labours; the jewels, the gold… the women. All are unceremoniously bundled onto carts, and then ships, making their way to a new home to be distributed among the triumphant warlords and their generals. They are merely trinkets to satisfy the egos of the unsatisfiable… or the simple.

For myself, however, my interest was on one thing, and one thing only; the Dragon Chest. I have jewels. I have gold. I need not the ravaged, humiliated remains of despoiled female slaves, for I have enough of those already. No, it was the chest, and its mysterious contents, that occupied my mind.

For centuries, the contents of this legendary box have driven lesser men to murder; to invasion and genocide; to the point of madness. Many have owned the chest, but none have had the courage to open it. But I am not ‘lesser men’. I am of a stronger mind, not easily swayed by the promises of neither trivial wealth, nor infamy. What others think of me is irrelevant.

It has cost much, to bring this casket to me. I have laid waste to three kingdoms now, each of them defiant to the point of their own ruin. That is upon them. I warned them, but they did not listen; did not reveal where I would find the prize I seek. These lesser kings chose death and disgrace, the slaughter of their peoples, over pragmatic surrender. How foolish they seem, protecting a treasure they had no use for. Guarding—hiding, even—a prize so revered, they feared it; feared its contents being revealed to the world.

Finding this chest has driven me all these years. It has been my obsession, my destiny, and now, finally having it here, open before me, I realise it is nothing more than my doom. Be careful what you wish for.

I expected gold or maybe some gems, but not this. I never took it literally, at most I thought it meant things a dragon would keep but I was not prepared for this. Three little dragon eggs of varying colors rested inside the box with a scroll up top. I grabbed the scroll and opened it up. Dearest Adventurer, I wish you luck on your newest journey into parenhood. This chest was enchanted to stop the eggs from developing until it was open. Now that its open they will hatch shortly and you will have three new friends to guard you on your travels. Baby dragons need a lot of care either by a human or mother dragon, without someone watching them they will perish. So please take good care of them. Now let me introduce you to the three types of dragons you will be caring for.

First is the Skywalker. This is the egg with the light blue color with white splotches. This dragon grows between fifteen to twenty feet in length and can carry up to five hundred pounds of cargo when flying. This is the perfect dragon for travel and they will serve you very well as an explorer.

Second is the NanoNinja. This is a relatively newer breed of dragon, so they are very rare. This is the egg that is matte black with spots of iridescent sheen. This dragon is very small growing only between one foot and three feet long. They are very adapt at sneaking into small spaces and picking locks. This dragon is perfect for the adventurer who wants to take all the treasures they can and have a nice companion they can have with them at any time.

Finally is the MiniMage. This is the egg that is light purple at the tip and gradients down to hot pink. These are smaller dragons growing between six and eight feet in length. This dragon has the capabilities of a beginner witch, and can grow into the capabilities of a head witch. They are perfect for the person who can get easily injured or someone who constantly gets stuck in situations they need an escape from. The dragon will produce a potion on their back, it will fitnfor the current situation or what ever you wish of it.

This group of dragons was specifically chosen with adventurers in mind. We selected some of the best dragons that will aid you on your journey. Now go on and raise these little ones, congrats on becoming a parent.

I sat the scroll down staring at the chest below me. “Well guess I’m a mom now,”I muttered under my breath.

Once upon a time I was a princess with so much to look forward to.

But the court of King Harold, my father, had other plans.

Sometimes I blame my curiosity.

I was only 7 at the time. I had spent the day exploring the castle and getting in everyone’s way — I’ll admit that.

I was shoo’d from the scullery and the kitchen, from the stables and royal gardens, just about anywhere interesting. What was I supposed to do, all alone with no friends or siblings?

Frustrated and bored, I sneaked into the Royal Conjuror’s rooms, and that’s when my life changed.

There it was sitting all by itself on his enormous oak table. The dragon chest. So many rumors about it! Why not, with such a name? My imagination ran wild with the stories I’d heard.

I had to open it. It was unlocked, so couldn’t be that important!

I certainly didn’t expect to find this.

A shriveled up, mummified cat or some such animal, with what looked like a dragonflies’ wings stuck to its sides, and a tiny bottle of liquid next to it.

“HOW DARE YOU!” Shouted a voice from behind. Startled, I shut the box with a slap and tripped backwards.

“How dare you, a spoiled brat, invade my private quarters?”

To say the Royal Conjuror was furious was an understatement. His face was livid. His hands were spread apart, steaming with a magical aura as if they were about to burst into flame. Spittle dotted his braided beard.

“I wasn’t going to steal anything,” I said, standing up and dusting off my frock. “And my name is Princess Angelica, the king’s daughter, as you well know!”

“I am well aware of who you THINK you are, peasant.”

His words startled me.

I watched the conjuror’s face contort into a vicious grin. “I’ve lived with King Harold’s secret long enough — I may be sworn to secrecy but I’ll make sure you do not ascend to the throne!”

And with that he pointed his hands straight toward me, and a beam of energy smashed into my legs. I passed out.

When I awoke, I could not get up. My legs were lifeless and I could not move them.

And now, 10 years later, that foul wizard is dead. My father is also dead, and the dragon chest is now mine. It’s sitting on my lap now, as if waiting for me to open it.

I have a choice. Throw the box away or investigate further.

Of course you know what I’m going to do.

I am now taking the bottle of liquid and pouring it on the mummy’s body. I have massaged it in. For the past hour it’s done nothing and I fear I’ve done something wrong.

But no — the tiny eye has just cracked open and has swiveled toward me.

I’m putting down this pen and paper to see what this magic has wrought.

The Draconians were a family that had long ago given up any pretenses of normality. They were generally larger, and more sturdy than others. They were all described as blood thristy and one was told from a young age never to cross a Draconian.

So when I received the scroll with the Draconian family seal on it, my heart almost stopped beating and my breath froze for a moment. I didn’t understand I didn’t know what I had done wrong til I opened the scroll.

I did stop breathing then and my face turned blue before I slumped to the ground in amazement looking at the scroll in my hands in utter disbelief.

“”Drago Draconian requests your prescense at the counting ceremony for your hand in marriage. A token of Dragos affections has been included.””

As I unrolled the scroll a single scale the size of a quarter , the color of clear summer sky, attached to a beautiful tri woven necklace of silver, copper and gunmetal.

Cosmo slumped back and kicked the chest with his foot. It skidded along the ground, leaving deep trenches in the dirt.

There were so many rumours surrounding the Dragon Chest, and with such a name, the drunken minds at the local tavern had run wild with stories of gold, jewels, or perhaps the generously rich coffers of a long forgotten damsalled princess.

But what Cosmo didn't expect to find was a lousy, torn scroll.

They had found the chest deep in the vaults below the palace. Unremarkable in design, Cosmo had first mistaken it for an old fisherman's crate. But after he had thrown it to the floor (and smelt nothing fishy), Thea had pointed out the silver work, the slats stamped with a long, curled dragon flying over the sea.

Cosmo had thought it tacky.

He kicked the chest again, and a shard of wood splinted from the domed lid.

"Oi, don't do that!" Thea declared, and the hollow chamber agreed, repeating her words in a distorted echo of her voice.

Water dripped from deeper within the vault, and even though he tried not to, Cosmo couldn't help but breathe in the stale stench of mildew and rust. Some hundred years, the palace above had abandoned the contents of the vaul, leaving once-precious artefacts to rot and decay, hidden away in the dark.

If only he had been alive those years ago, Cosmo thought, he would have stolen it all and sold it for a fortune.

He could have been a king, all of his own.

Thea grunted and pushed up from her spot by a weathered stone gargoyle. She stomped over to the chest. A veil of shadows draped over her face. The dark sunk into the sharp lines of her cheekbones and deepened the bags under her eyes, and for a moment, Cosmo saw how the rest of the world saw her—as the personification of fear itself... A Dark Witch.

Cosmo shivered under his jacket.

Quickly, he blew a raspberry to settle his nerves. "Try and stop me."

Ignoring him, Thea rightened the chest and plucked out the scroll from inside. Yellow light glimmered from their discarded torch on the ground, and the flame flashed in the lenses of her glasses. "Did you even think to check what was on the scroll?”

"Seeing as scrolls ain't local currency—no!" Cosmo flopped back, and his head fell into a pillow of dirt.

An eternity appeared in the vast vault ceiling. It seemed to go on forever.

Six wide walkways extended equally from the curved walls, reaching inwards like the spokes of a wagon wheel to a central, circular point in the middle.

Even in the low light, Cosmo could see several floors. Each layer rose higher and higher, but with every new stone wheel, the condition of the bridges’ deteriorated, crumbling away until Cosmo lost sight of everything at all.

Cosmo sighed. "You can't bloody buy beer with kindling,” he muttered and closed his eyes.

For weeks, he had dreamt of nothing but the prize waiting within the dragon's chest. Gold enough to pay off his debt, a gateway out from under the queen's thumb. But, as with most dragons, its glistening hoard didn't exist, and Cosmo was once again left withering around in the dirt.

"Oi, Mr Mopey. Would a map be of interest?"

His ears piqued. "Pirate?”

"Well, there's no big X-marks-the-spot, but a little chest is drawn in the corner, and it is gold. But whatever,” Thea sighed dramatically, and Cosmo heard her boots crunching on the ground. “As you said, this is just kindling."

“Wait!” Scrambling to his feet, Cosmo leaned over Thea's shoulder. Snatching the map, a sprinkling of something came away in his hands, scattering over his skin like dandruff. “What‘s this?” He grimaced, rubbing the grey powder between his fingers. He sniffed it. It tickled, smelling something acidic and citrus. He sneezed. “Fruity dust?”

“Clay, perhaps.” Thea yanked the scroll back. “Oi, don’t lick it!”

Cosmo put his arm down, returned his tongue to the inside of his mouth and wiped his dusty hand on his trousers. “Spoilsport.”

As thick as wafer biscuits, the parchment ran no bigger than Thea's forearm.

Golden lines coursed across the black page, intersecting like leylines. Pale blue filled the blank edges of the map, and where the green areas were, were crudely drawn regions of trees and mountains, with the occasional scratch of a town or village.

Cosmo squinted and ran his tongue over the ring in his lip. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't recognise any of the depicted landmarks.

This place didn't exist.

“It’s a duff,” he said, “it has to be. This crusty map leads to nowhere. Let's go.” Cosmo tugged Thea's sleeve, but she didn't move.

She sniffed, her face scrunching. “Can you smell lemons?” The torch light glared in the reflection of the glasses, and as she brought the map to the tip of her nose, the laylines cutting across her lenses like jagged cracks. She inhaled again. “It definitely smells of lemons.”

At the back of Cosmo’s mind, something sparked. And then, he realised.

"Burn it," he said.

"What?"

"Use your damn flame and torch it."

"What use is that?"

"If my instincts serve me correctly—and they usually do, I'm excellent like that—burning this sucker will show us exactly where we need to go."

"And if it doesn't?"

"If it doesn't,” Cosmo considered, “then the cartographer or whoever should've drawn a big bloody X—or if that was too difficult, they should've written at the top 'DO NOT BURN TO REVEAL WHERE THE TREASURE IS,” Cosmo shouted, his voice echoing, “ALTHOUGH THAT IS AN EXCELLENT IDEA AND I WILL USE THAT NEXT TIME'!"

Thea raised an eyebrow, and Cosmo frowned. "I'm smart,” he countered, “It'll work. Lemons turn it invisible, and dragons breathe fire.” He gestured towards the chest. “It's in the ‘Dragon Chest’, so, boop boop, put two and two together, and you get: BURN IT!”

Thea rolled her eyes. “Drama queen.”

“Always. Now, flame up!”

Closing her eyes, Thea opened her hand, pointing her palm up.

His chest tightened. Cosmo had witnessed her magic many a time, been saved by it many more. But the fear was still there—childhood indoctrinated by hatred and false pretences would do that. And he hated himself for it. It wasn't Thea's fault.

The air popped. Cosmo smelt smoke, and a brilliant flame blossomed in Thea's palm.

“If this is wrong,” she began.

“I’m not.” He really hoped not. Looking less than convinced, Thea let the two touch.

The fire caught, scorching the parchment and curling the shrinking corners inward. Embers sparked. The leylines vanished, as did the mountains and unknown towns. Black paint peeled away, revealing a layer of blue sapphire beneath and a place Cosmo recognised—a single Island at the heart of the Pacific.

That's where they had to go. There they’d find the treasure. Perhaps the scroll wasn't just kindling after all.

Cosmo grinned. “Bingo!”

Sam was always curious. He couldn't help it. It was in his nature. If Jon, the shopkeeper did not intend for Sam to look around the shop, he would not have hired him to be his assistant. And if Jon did not wish for Sam to open the dragon chest, then he would have done more than tell him one time to not touch it. Jon should have hidden the chest. It was only natural that Sam should find his way in the stock room, all the way to the end, and behind Jon's desk, where the chest sat on the floor.

Before Jon left for the bank, he told Sam "Don't fool around too much, and stay away from my desk."

That was a whole two minutes ago. Sam had already perused the front of the shop many times before. Sam was a very peculiar 10 year old boy, with dark skin, and curly hair. He was thin, but tall for his age. He always told other's "I'm fourteen, I'm just small for my age." He was convinced he had them all fooled. Sam wore a patched up plain tunic, and brown sandals. His mother always made sure he was clean and presentable before he left the hut, and Sam knew he partially owed his new job to her diligence.

Barely able to contain his curiosity, and for fear of dying of boredom, Sam made his way to the stock room. More strange items line carts and shelves. Lion's breath candles, assorted potions, candy, fairy dust, goblin fangs, and left over snowmen tears from Christmas. Nothing that Sam hadn't already played around with a few times over. Except..

The dragon chest. Sam made his way to the other end of the room until he stood before Jon's desk. Scattered coins, ledgers, and books spread across the desk's surface so much they appeared to be floating. Sam crept behind the desk and then he saw it. The Dragon Chest.

He'd heard rumors about the chest. Tales of a petrified dragon egg inside, or of a dragon scales made of gold. All the rumors and stories pointed to something of value inside, of rarity particular as it relates to dragons. This would be rare indeed as dragons hadn't been seen in hundreds of years. Little is known of how Jon acquired the chest, but the whole town was talking about it. But the whole town didn't happen to be recently hired to work in the shop where the chest of such talk was kept. Sam did.

Sam was never much for taking his time, and while he could appreciate the beauty of the chest, in all of its shimmering splendor, he couldn't wait to open it. He knelt down in front of it and popped the latch. A draft escaped the chest door, like a seal of air being breached. Smells of burning firewood and ocean water seemed to fill the room. Sam opened the door slowly, and fell to the floor. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

The chest door was like a window in the sky. Inside the chest was no singular dragon egg or pile of dragon scales. It was another terrain entirely. There Sam sat, peering down into this sfar off land. A beach, a bonfire with no guests, and the ocean's tide lie below. This chest was a door to some other place, but Sam did not know where.

But, why is it called the dragon chest? Sam thought to himself. Not soon enough though, as fire suddenly erupted up through the chest door. Sam fell out of the way as a burst off flames flew through the chest and into the shop. The flames subsided and were replaced by an angry roar from a creature Sam did not recongize. But Sam was always curious. Deciding it was safe, Sam crept back over to the chest and peered in.

That's when he saw the family of dragons. Some sitting by the bonfire. Some flying over the beach. And one staring right up at him, perhaps ready to light the shop on fire.