In the heart of the Holy Castle, King Nevi anxiously paced before a towering, beautifuly carved window. Moonlight streamed through the stained glass, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the room. But the king's worries were far removed from the beauty outside. He anxiously awaited a response from Eldrin, the wizened Tower Mage, whose long white beard nearly reached his waist.
"Eldrin," Nevi said, his voice imbued with desperation, "is there anything at all we can do? Surely, there must be some way to tame this… this monstrosity!"
Eldrin sighed, a deep rumble that seemed to emanate from the depths of his chest. "Your Majesty," he began, his voice raspy with age, "taming a dragon? Such a notion borders on the madness. Dragons are not beasts to be broken, they are sentient creatures, the masters of magic itself. Any attempt to bind him would be met with forceful resistance. He could either destroy such magic outright or nullify it with a mere thought."
