Jake stumbled backward, heart racing. "What the hell is this thing?! Get it off!"
He pulled. Twisted. Tried to slice at it with his dagger. Nothing worked. The Mythatrix remained firm, the glowing interface shifting symbols and creature glyphs rapidly.
Suddenly, a voice—not mechanical this time, but ancient and wise—whispered from within the device:
"Be still, young Anthecian. You have been chosen."
A swirling figure emerged before him—Elyzion, a silver-blue fox-dragon hybrid spirit with starlight eyes and a celestial mane. The being floated serenely, its voice both soothing and powerful.
"I am Elyzion, the guardian of the Mythatrix. This device bonds only with those whose blood carries the spark of the Ancients. You are one such soul."
Jake stared. "What do you mean I've been chosen? I didn't ask for this!"
"Destiny rarely asks. It merely reveals." Elyzion's tail shimmered, weaving glyphs in the air. "The Mythatrix holds the essence of every mythic being. With it, you will gain powers long thought forgotten."
Images flashed before Jake—dragons breathing storms, phoenixes rising in flames, kitsune weaving illusions, valkyries descending from the heavens. He staggered, overwhelmed.
"Wait… I can become them?"
"Yes. But power must be earned, not abused. Use it wisely—or risk Mythic Corruption."
Isabella burst in, seeing her cousin pale and panting. "Jake? What happened?"
Jake showed her the device. "It… it's called the Mythatrix. It won't come off. And I think it just… rewired my whole life."
Isabella stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Well then… looks like we're both not who we used to be anymore."
Elyzion smiled faintly. "Your journey begins now. The world trembles—not from what is—but from what you two will become."