The City of Draikon. Even those of the magical community would not dare set foot here. Long since abandoned by its people, the place carried a haunting aura; in fact, most would be quick to dismiss it as a mere myth if not only to protect themselves. But that didn’t matter to him. He was here now, and there was no turning back.

  The teenage boy stood just outside the central temple, a now ruined structure adorned with reptilian statues. The desert night was calm and still, the moonlight faintly illuminating the entrance. In the archway was a veil of pulsating energy, a barrier to keep out magical beings.

  He raised a hand toward the forcefield, preparing to pass through it. Taking a breath, he walked forward, instinctively wincing as his hand made contact. But there was no pain. The boy pushed on until he had made it through to the other side. “Still human…” he sighed in relief. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out what looked to be part of an animal horn. “But not for long. Not if you can’t help me.”

  He pressed on, venturing further into the temple's depths until finally arriving at a vast throne room, its walls scarred from an ancient battle. The teen took a moment to study the area before something else caught his attention. There, in the middle of the chamber, sat a stone statue of a tall, reptilian creature. A Draikonian. It was frozen in a crouched stance, weathered by time and missing a significant portion of its horn. The boy approached carefully, holding the broken piece out in front of him. His hands shook slightly as he aligned the fragment with the rest of the horn. "You’re my last hope," he whispered, and locked it into place.

  He took a few steps back, wondering if anything was going to happen. And then as if on cue, the stone began to glow, rumbling and cracking as the pieces fell away, revealing the figure underneath. The room was quiet for another moment, the Draikonian still kneeling in silence. Then suddenly, it opened its eyes and rose to its feet, standing tall above the boy, who bowed in respect before speaking. “Lord Devilon.”

  The green, scaled being briefly scanned his surroundings, then returned his piercing red gaze to his liberator. “You are human,” he said in a snakelike voice.

  “My name is Chase Denhamor,” the boy responded. “It is I who released you from your prison.”

  Devilon eyed him for a moment before looking away. “A human has set me free…” he chuckled. “How desperate you must be. Do you have any idea the power I wield?”

  “Yes, my lord. Which is why I come seeking your help.”

  “A most unwise decision,” Devilon snapped, turning back to face him. “Draikonians are not known for their hospitality.” Chase kept his head lowered, saying nothing. It was then that Devilon took notice of his pointed ears. “How unusual. You smell of human, but do not look it. On your feet, boy.”

  Chase did as he was told and stood, the Draikonian leaning down to get a closer look. “Ah… you have been touched by a curse. Though the nature is… unfamiliar to me.” He pulled his head back and started toward his throne. “Tell me, was the entrance to this temple unguarded?”

  “There… was a barrier,” Chase replied, “but I was able to pass through.”

  Devilon grunted to himself as he sat down. “Hmph, clever witch. The enchantment persists.” He tapped a claw on the arm of the chair. “In that case, you have wasted your time. I cannot help you.”

  Chase felt a lump form in his throat. “Please-” he began to plead, but quickly regained his composure. “My lord, is there truly nothing you can do? It is said that Draikonians are experts on dark magic.”

  “And what would a human know of our kind?” Devilon hissed, practically cutting him off. He found himself intrigued, however; this was no ordinary human child.

  "My family has always had strong ties with the Mistykborn, and it’s common knowledge that the power your people possess is… beyond comprehension." Chase seemed to struggle with his words, as though not telling the whole truth.

  Devilon sighed deeply and turned his head toward the ceiling. "I cannot leave this temple," he frustratingly admitted. "That accursed barrier prevents any magical creature from stepping beyond its reach." He sat in silence for a moment, then perked up, as if remembering something important. "There is only one hope left for you now—the Celestial Stones."

  The boy took a step forward, listening intently. "The Celestial Stones?"

  "Legend speaks of their power to break curses and alter fate itself," Devilon explained, his voice heavy with age-old knowledge. "But long ago, they were scattered across your realm, hidden away and fiercely guarded by the very forces that crafted them. No ordinary quest, no simple journey will bring them to your hands."

  The whole temple seemed to grow colder as he spoke, and Chase's gaze hardened with resolve. "What must I do?"