The air in the small town was cleaner, quieter than the city life you’d left behind. You stretched your arms above your head, feeling a pleasant soreness in your muscles from the day's labor. The farm you had inherited was far from perfect—overgrown with weeds, old fences broken down, the fields tangled and wild—but it was yours. A place to start over.

It was late afternoon, the sun dipping low on the horizon, casting long shadows over the land. As you were clearing a patch of earth near the edge of the woods, your shovel struck something solid. Frowning, you knelt down, brushing away the dirt to reveal the smooth surface of a stone statue.

The statue depicted a dragon, frozen mid-roar, its stone wings outstretched as if ready to take flight. Despite its worn appearance, the craftsmanship was remarkable—almost lifelike. There was something captivating about its expression, a mix of pride and sadness etched into the stone. For some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to move it, deciding to leave it there, a guardian of sorts for your farm.

Without really thinking, you took one of the wildflowers you had collected earlier, its petals bright against the fading light, and placed it at the base of the statue. It felt like the right thing to do—a small offering, though you weren't sure why.

That night, you were restless. Sleep came slowly, but when it did, it wasn’t peaceful. You found yourself standing in the same place where the statue had been, only the fields were more vivid, glowing with an otherworldly light. The sky above shimmered with stars that felt closer than they should be. In front of you, the dragon statue stood tall—but it wasn’t stone anymore.

From the statue’s form, a figure emerged. He was tall, with long silver hair that caught the ethereal light, flowing down to his shoulders. His golden eyes glowed like embers, piercing yet calm. His outfit, a regal mix of white, gold, and navy, shimmered in the dreamlike haze.

“I see you found my resting place,” the figure spoke.