Albert sat in the dark chamber, his breath ragged, his hands still trembling from the overwhelming surge of energy. His mind reeled from the visions—the towering dragon, the searing fire, the cities reduced to ash.

  What was that?

  The fragment before him had pulsed with something beyond modern magic, something ancient and raw. He had read about the destructive nature of True Dragons, but witnessing it—feeling it—was something else entirely.

  His fingers twitched as he reached for the stone again, but a lingering dread kept him from touching it. The first time had nearly consumed him. What would happen if he tried again?

  He steadied his breathing. He needed to understand this power before attempting anything reckless. If this truly was a remnant of Old Magic, then the key to unlocking its secrets lay in the chamber itself.

  Albert rose unsteadily, his legs weak. The air around him was heavy, as if the room itself held onto the past, unwilling to let it go. He cast his light higher, illuminating the intricate carvings on the walls.

  The symbols were unlike anything found in modern grimoires. They weren’t merely letters or sigils—they were flowing, as if the stone had been carved while molten, shaped by something beyond human hands.

  Albert ran his fingers along the engravings, whispering the words aloud.

  "Sealed".

  The moment the words left his lips, a low vibration rippled through the room.

  Albert stepped back, heart pounding.

  The carvings shifted.

  No, not shifted—reacted.

  Something within the chamber had acknowledged his presence.

  A deep, guttural hum reverberated from the stone. Dust trickled from the ceiling. Albert clenched his jaw.

  Was this some kind of defensive mechanism?

  Or was something waking up?

  His instincts screamed at him to leave, but his obsession wouldn’t let him. He had come too far.

  Albert pressed on, examining the altar once more. If this was a place of worship for the True Dragons, then what had been sacrificed here? The grooves carved into the stone were too deliberate, too precise. Not decorative—functional.

  They were meant to channel something.

  His mind raced. Magic in the current age required grimoires to stabilize it. But in the past, magic had been wild, untamed. It flowed through the very air, saturating the land in raw power.

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  What if this place still held onto that energy?

  Albert turned back to the fragment, his fear battling with his curiosity. The visions had shown him destruction, but they had also shown him something else—power beyond human limits.

  He had spent his life chasing immortality, clinging to forbidden research, risking everything for a chance at escaping death.

  And now, standing before something truly ancient, he realized—

  This could be his greatest discovery.

  Albert clenched his fists. He would not let fear stop him.

  If the past held the secret to power, then he would claim it.

  No matter the cost.

  Albert’s breath steadied as the vibrations in the chamber gradually faded. The carvings, though still alive in a way that defied logic, settled into a faint pulsation—like the slow heartbeat of something ancient.

  He forced himself to take a step forward.

  The weight of history pressed against him, thick and oppressive. Every bone in his body screamed that this place was not meant for human hands, that he was trespassing into knowledge meant to remain buried.

  But that was exactly why he was here.

  Albert traced the carvings with careful fingers, the stone unexpectedly warm beneath his touch.

  "Sealed."

  The word echoed in his mind.

  Sealed? What was sealed?

  His thoughts raced. If the True Dragons of old had been so overwhelmingly powerful, why had they disappeared? It wasn’t just natural extinction—something happened. Something sealed them away.

  And if this place held even a fraction of their secrets—

  Albert’s pulse quickened.

  He needed more.

  With measured breath, he reached into his satchel and pulled out a small, sharpened dagger.

  He knew how ancient magic worked.

  If the carvings were reacting to him, then there was a way to awaken them.

  With a single motion, he pressed the dagger into his palm, dragging the blade across his skin. The wound wasn’t deep, but it was enough.

  Crimson pooled in his hand, dripping onto the stone.

  The reaction was immediate.

  A shockwave pulsed through the chamber, sending Albert stumbling backward. The carvings flared, their glow shifting from a dull hum to something bright, something hungry.

  The air around him thickened, crackling with unseen energy.

  And then—the voices began.

  Whispers.

  Layered, overlapping, each one distinct yet unintelligible.

  Albert’s head throbbed as the voices grew louder, pressing into his skull like claws raking against his thoughts. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to focus.

  "?B?e?w?a?r?e?.? ?T?h?e? ?p?r?i?s?o?n? ?h?o?l?d?s? ?n?o? ?g?o?d?s?,? ?o?n?l?y? ?c?u?r?s?e?s?.?"?

  Albert froze.

  The voice wasn’t a whisper anymore—it was inside him, sinking into his very bones.

  He clutched his chest, feeling his heart hammer against his ribs. The energy in the chamber wasn’t just reacting—it was testing him, assessing him.

  "Prison?"

  His mind latched onto the word.

  If this was a prison, then what had been locked away?

  His eyes flickered toward the fragment resting on the altar. The very object that had shown him the vision.

  Was it a key? A remnant of something greater?

  A terrible thought struck him—

  Had he just weakened the seal?

  His instincts screamed at him to leave, but he couldn’t. He had to know.

  Albert forced himself to stand, wiping the blood from his palm onto his robe. His knees still trembled, but he ignored the fear creeping up his spine.

  He stepped closer to the fragment, reaching out with hesitant fingers—

  A gust of wind exploded from the altar, slamming into him like a tidal wave. He was thrown backward, his body colliding with the stone floor. His vision blurred.

  And then—

  Something shifted.

  A presence.

  Deep within the chamber.

  It wasn’t an illusion. It wasn’t an echo.

  Something else was here.

  Watching.

  Waiting.

  Albert’s breath caught in his throat.

  For the first time in years, he felt a sensation he had long buried.

  Fear.