The Fable of the Dragon Stone – A Legend from Mount Pilatus
There was a time when people knew the whisper of the trees better than the clink of coins, and the wind sweeping over the lakes carried stories of animals, spirits, and ancient gods. Pilatus – rugged, wild, and shrouded in mist – loomed over the valley of Alpnach like a sleeping beast. No one dared venture too far up the mountain, for everyone knew: In its heart, dragons dwell.
They said the dragons here were older than the rocks themselves. They slept deep within the mountain’s caves and awoke only when the world lost its balance – when greed, rage, or pride spread across the land. Then, it was believed, Pilatus would send out its guardians: dragons with scales like hammered moonstone, eyes as bright as starlight, and wings powerful enough to shift the weather.
In the summer of 1421, when the sun burned like a fiery orb in the sky for weeks and the springs dried up, the unexplainable occurred.
A humble alpine herdsman, Hans Stempflin from Kriens, was leading his cows up to the alpine pastures, as he did every year. But that afternoon, an eerie silence fell. No birds sang, no cowbells rang – only the buzzing heat filled the air.
Then, a massive shadow blotted out the sun. A dragon – larger than any creature ever to walk the earth – plummeted from the storm-torn clouds above. Its scales shimmered with the colors of fire, from glowing red to deep violet. With a thunderous crash, the beast slammed into the cliffs above the Eigental.
Hans was thrown backwards, his heart pounding – and then everything went black.
When he awoke hours later, the sky was calm once more, as if nothing had happened. There was no sign of the dragon – no bones, no wing beats, no roar. Only two things remained: a dark, sticky lump of blood that smelled of iron and earth, and a radiant stone, as pure as rock crystal, yet in its core shimmered a liquid light from another world.
Hans took the stone with him – and soon his name was whispered throughout Central Switzerland. For wherever the “Dragon Stone of Alpnach” was placed – on wounds, on fevered brows, or over aching hearts – something healed. Not just the body, but the soul seemed to grow lighter.
Scholars came from Lucerne. They examined it, weighed it, ground small fragments in their mortars – and confirmed what the farmers already knew: this stone was no ordinary mineral. It was the heart of an ancient being. A gift – or perhaps a warning.
And so, the Dragon Stone became a hidden treasure of the region. Some claimed it was the dragon’s very heart – a final burst of wisdom before the creature vanished. Others believed the dragon had not died at all, but had transformed into the stone to remain close to humankind.
Since that time, the summit of Mount Pilatus remained untouched for many years. People no longer dared climb it – out of reverence for the ancient guardians. And when the wind howls across the cliffs and the mist rises from the gorges, the elders in Alpnach still whisper:
“He is still there – he sleeps. And the stone watches over us.”