Marwyn pointed at the dragon eggs, his beard twitching with excitement. "Three days ago—just three days ago—they suddenly started glowing, and the temperature spiked. When I first arrived, they were barely warm. Now..."
He quickly pulled his hand back, almost having touched the shell. "Now this heat—it's like fresh bread straight from the oven! No, even hotter. I don't dare touch them with my bare hands anymore..."
Lo Quen stepped forward, awe and tenderness shining in his eyes. Ignoring the heat that could easily scorch ordinary skin, he reached out and gently brushed his fingers across each of the three dragon eggs.
What he felt wasn't only searing warmth, but also a powerful, pulsing vitality—a force resonating faintly with the depths of his soul.
"Yes, Archmaester," he murmured. "They're... about to hatch."
But when his gaze shifted to the fourth tray beside them, his brow tightened.
The black-and-red egg, shaped like the legendary "Black Dread" Balerion, was from the same batch as the three he had first awakened—yet it remained cold and lifeless. Its shell was dull, devoid of light, a stark contrast to the vibrant glow of the others.
"This one..." Lo Quen said uncertainly.
Janice stepped closer, her beautiful violet eyes filled with confusion as she explained softly, "Archmaester Marwyn and I checked it thoroughly. It seems this dragon egg's awakening wasn't complete. We suspect it's due to insufficient magic. The magic it absorbed might not be enough to carry it through the final stage of hatching."
"Insufficient magic?"
Lo Quen frowned deeply.
This was a system-driven incubation. Could the system itself have limits? Or did this particular egg demand more power than the rest?
He recalled how the system couldn't draw magic from those mysterious black stones and slowly accepted the thought. Perhaps it was fate's arrangement.
Suppressing his regret, he turned his focus back to the three radiant eggs, their light rippling gently across the room.
Three it is, then. Once grown, three dragons would make little difference from four. Still, it was a shame about the egg that resembled the Black Dread.
Setting the matter aside, he turned toward Marwyn and asked, "Archmaester, has there been any progress with that black stone?"
At the mention of the stone, Marwyn's excitement gave way to the sharp focus of a scholar consumed by discovery. He grinned, eyes glinting with fervent light.
"Heh, lad, you've come to the right man! That stone is no ordinary object—far from it. Its surface is covered in an extremely ancient and intricate magical seal. I've combed through every forbidden tome brought out of Valyria, especially those dealing with ancient energy seals, and I finally found a lead.
This seal requires a specific frequency of magical resonance to break—like using the perfect key for the most complex lock. The exact combination of ritual runes and energy flow is still under refinement, but I can assure you, I'm close. Give me a little more time, and I'll find that key!"
Lo Quen's heart leapt.
That black stone, brimming with immense magic, was the key to solving his power source problem. He had thought he'd have to wait for the legendary Red Comet to appear before seeing any hope—but Archmaester Marwyn had just given him a greater gift than he expected.
"Excellent, Archmaester. I'm counting on you," he said sincerely.
...
Night fell, and the eerie stillness unique to Torturer's Deep settled over the bay.
Cold, silvery moonlight poured through the tall stone windows like liquid mercury, quietly filling Lo Quen's chamber. The three dragon eggs had been moved onto a stone platform by the window. Bathed in the moonlight, their tricolored glow intertwined with the pale silver radiance, painting the room in dreamlike hues.
Janice stood quietly beside him, her silver-gold hair gleaming softly under the moonlight.
Lo Quen gazed at the three eggs—the sources of new life and endless possibility—his heart swelling with gratitude.
He turned toward the girl beside him. The moonlight outlined the delicate contours of her face, her long lashes casting faint shadows beneath her eyes, like the shy glow of the moon beyond the window.
"Janice, thank you for helping me out so much." His voice was low and gentle.
Janice lowered her head slightly, her hair as bright as molten silver cascading down. Her voice was soft. "Jaelena fought for you in the Narrow Sea. I wanted to do something for you too."
Hearing the Maiden's soft words, Lo Quen felt a surge of tenderness welling up inside him. He reached out naturally, gently drawing her into his embrace.
Janice's body instantly softened, offering no resistance. She nestled against his chest with docile submission, a faint, captivating blush creeping into her ears. Through the thin fabric, they could feel each other's heartbeats and warmth.
Lo Quen's chin rested lightly on her hair, inhaling the cool, subtle fragrance that wafted from her locks—like the scent of a pine forest after winter snow. "Soon you'll be able to leave this place. We'll move to a new home, where there's sunshine, sea breezes, and a vast world that belongs to us."
"A new home?"
Janice lifted her head, her beautiful violet eyes glistening like the purest amethyst in the moonlight, filled with hopeful anticipation. "Is it Tyrosh? I've heard of palaces built from pearls and colorful shells, like dreamlike dwellings?"
Lo Quen shook his head, his fingers gently brushing her silky hair as his gaze drifted to the boundless stars and sea beyond the window. "No. The people of Tyrosh are arrogant and rude. We will go to a place that belongs only to us, to build a new home where our dragon can thrive."
Janice's violet eyes instantly curved into enchanting crescents, their radiance outshining the moonlight outside, radiating pure joy and anticipation.
Lo Quen gazed at her exquisite beauty, bathed in moonlight as if shrouded in a hazy halo. Time seemed to stand still in that moment. The last traces of a maiden faded from her face, revealing breathtaking beauty.
Janice, held captive by his intense, undimmed gaze—filled with unabashed admiration and fervor—felt a blush spread across her cheeks like a newly bloomed rose. Her long lashes fluttered like startled butterfly wings before slowly closing those intoxicating violet eyes with a shy yet resolute determination.
Moonlight cast a sacred glow upon her smooth forehead, her slightly tilted face a silent confession.
An indescribable emotion welled up within Lo Quen. Without further hesitation, he lowered his head. With profound tenderness and reverence, he gently yet firmly pressed his lips to hers—soft, cool, and red.
The sensation was indescribably soft and moist, carrying a faint, crisp sweetness like orchids blooming in the morning dew. This kiss began as light as a feather, tentatively testing their mutual feelings. Then, as if some invisible gate had opened, long-suppressed emotions surged forth like a tidal wave.
Lo Quen drew her closer, his arms tightening around her slender yet resilient frame. Instinctively, Janice wrapped her arms around his waist. Lips met, breath mingled, moonlight the sole witness. In the silent room, only their increasingly rapid breaths and the synchronized echo of their heartbeats remained.
Lost in this long-overdue intimacy, steeped in dependence and hazy affection, they seemed to merge the time apart and future hopes into this deep kiss.
Lo Quen felt as if he stood in an early spring garden, his nose enveloped by the cool, subtle fragrance lingering in Janice's hair, mingled with her unique, pure scent—like sunlight filtering through cedar. His hands, calloused from years of sword-gripping, unconsciously traced the smooth curve of her spine, feeling the jade-like warmth beneath the silk and the faint tremors. The interplay of rough and smooth textures felt like the most primal melody.
Their bodies pressed tightly together, separated only by thin fabric, allowing them to clearly feel each other's rising warmth and accelerating heartbeats. An unprecedented intimacy and longing spread silently between them. The air grew thick and scorching, the moonlight itself seeming to take on an ambiguous warmth.
Just as they were about to lose themselves completely in this moonlit enchantment—
"Roar—!"
A faint yet distinct, raspy cry abruptly shattered the intoxicating silence within the room. Immediately followed by two more cries, equally tender yet brimming with vitality.
As if doused with ice water, Lo Quen and Janice snapped out of their daze, jerking apart and simultaneously turning toward the stone windowsill.
Bathed in moonlight, the three dragon eggs, their shells shimmering with light, now bore spiderweb-like cracks. The fissures spread rapidly, widening. Accompanied by faint yet crisp snaps, fragments of shell began to peel away.
Three small, wet heads strained to emerge from the shattered shells. Their eyes—vertical pupils as clear and luminous as gemstones—stared curiously, blankly, and intently at the disheveled couple before them, their cheeks flushed and breaths still ragged.