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.