A man stood near the edge of a snowy cliff. He heard the thrums of wings. Seconds later a flying beast appeared before him. It was a wyvern. The man jumped on the back of the wyvern. Then the wyvern flew away across the sky. Wyvern's were in the same lineage as dragons.
The wyverns touch down outside a terraced, structure overlooking the forest. The man was lead towards the ruins. This was where a dragon was suppose to be buried? Impossible. He rides down. He walks into a stone building. And opens the front doors and walks inside.
A crescent-shaped room filled with antiques: quarry columns, stacks of arcane volumes, Medieval front pieces. A Borgia-esque Renaissance portrait staring down at him with a severe gaze. Several tiles were under his feet, and covering them were larges piles of gold coins. The man was almost tempted to snag pieces of that treasure. But then he remembered they were a dragon's treasure. All dragon's treasure were curse; anyone who stole from a dragon would be cursed with blight, pain, misery.
He swerved from his original path. Now he was in some kind of graveyard. A box graveyard. Everywhere the man looked he could see caskets; just over his shoulder was a green casket. How do people think they left the earth. How do they think souls leave. Do you think their souls transcended into the sky or descended into the dirt? The man was indulged as a man of science. Some would say you're no man of science! Do you think their souls transcended into the sky or descended into the dirt. What they don't understand is science and magic are two of the same things.
He froze. There was something inside one of those caskets. A rattle. And bony hands reached out of the casket and weaver. He was so scared...no one could see how scared she was because she was still trying to talk but her voice was hoarse. The man was thinking about his strife, and how a walking mummy would ruin his day. He extended a hand slowly to the casket...he opened the casket! He examined the casket closer. There were scratch marks, dead scarabs, and where the head would be place there was a pair of wings there.
" Dear God...this man was buried alive," he said. He thoroughly rubbed the inside of the casket. Then he saw it. He saw a boy like him, maybe an academy student like him, and he was brought here for a same reason as him: slay the dragon. But the dragon killed him, reaped his soul, and buried him.
dragon's den. The whole den was really a colossal room with rubies, ancient artifacts, and gold coins. He was amazed at the riche of the dragons home, but this amount of treasure was nothing to the riches his lord kept. But dragon treasure was cursed. If he touched one ruby of it he could be cursed. He pondered how taking one measly coin was going to affect him for the rest of his life. Then he thought of something - it was coming from under his feet.
" Where is the dragon?"
The man turned his ankles and water swiveled through his hands. He created a whip-like structure made of water by an extension of his right hand. It attacked the coins with great speed, flexibility, and pressure.
" Water Lock!"
He used his magic to materialized a large mass of water. Water accumulated his hands as he raised coins up and lobbed them towards the wall.
" Maybe the dragon isn't here," he said. " Maybe it's hunting sheep flocks in the meadow? Or maybe it's sleeping under my feet?"
" Or maybe it's watching you right now."
The man quickly turned around. The fabrics - the provocativeness of its indignant - a giant dragon. A tremendous, mighty, terrible, tyrannical, captive, magnificent dragon. The man had never been so close to a dragon like this before. He wouldn't be much longer; the dragon blew its fire at him. It breath streams of searing hot flame.