Warmth.
Not the molten, suffocating heat of the egg. Not the burning fire in my chest. Not the cold bite of snow.
A different warmth — gentle, steady, almost… human.
I blinked.
A wooden ceiling stared back at me, its beams old and uneven, the wood darkened by age and smoke. Something soft pressed against my back: blankets, thick and heavy. A fire crackled somewhere nearby, its glow flickering across the walls.
For a moment, I didn't move.
Because for a moment, I didn't know if I was alive.
Then the memories hit me: the vault, the goblins, the fire, the sky, the fall. The forest. The cold. The darkness swallowing me whole.
I jerked upright.
Pain shot through my ribs, sharp and immediate. I gasped, clutching my side — except my hand wasn't scaled. It wasn't clawed.
It was human.
Small. Pale. Five fingers.
I stared at it, breath caught in my throat. My other hand — the same. My legs — thin, bare, human. My chest — rising and falling too fast. My skin — cold with sweat.
Human.
I was human.
Or something close.
Before panic could take over, a voice spoke from the corner of the room.
"Easy now, lad. You'll tear your stitches."
I froze.
An old man sat in a wooden chair near the fire, a mug steaming in his hands. His beard was white and wild, his eyes sharp despite the wrinkles around them. He wore thick wool clothes and boots still dusted with snow.
He didn't look afraid.
He looked… curious.
"You've been asleep for two days," he said, leaning forward slightly. "Found you half‑dead in the forest. Snow up to your neck. No clothes. Blood everywhere." He paused, eyes narrowing just a fraction. "Lucky you didn't freeze solid."
My mouth opened, but no sound came out.
He continued, voice calm but probing. "You were wearing… well, what was left of some clothes. Torn to shreds. Looked like you'd been mauled by something fierce." A beat. "Or like you'd fallen from very, very high."
My heart hammered.
He was lying. Not maliciously — but gently, deliberately.
He knew I hadn't been wearing anything. He knew something was wrong with me. He just wasn't saying it.
Not yet.
I swallowed hard. "Where… where am I?"
"Norway," he said simply. "Deep forest. Far from any town or any civilisation at all.." He took a sip from his mug. "Name's Halvard."
Norway.
I had flown that far?
"How did I get here?" I whispered.
Halvard raised an eyebrow. "That's what I'd like to know." He studied me for a long moment, not unkindly. "But you're safe. For now. And you're not leaving this bed until you can stand without falling over."
I looked down at myself again — at the small, human body that didn't feel like mine. At the faint, silvery marks along my arms where scales had been. At the heat still smoldering deep in my chest.
It hadn't been a dream. None of it.
But I couldn't explain it. I couldn't even understand it.
Halvard stood slowly, joints cracking. "Rest. Eat. Heal. We'll talk when you're stronger." He paused at the doorway, glancing back with a strange softness. "You're not an ordinary boy. I can see that much."
My breath caught.
"But whatever you are," he added, "you're not my enemy."
The door closed behind him.
And for the first time since waking, I let myself breathe.
The door clicked shut behind Halvard, and the silence that followed felt almost unreal. After the roar of fire, the screams of goblins, the wind tearing at my wings… this quiet was too soft. Too gentle. It made my skin crawl.
I sank back into the blankets, breathing slowly, trying to steady the pounding in my chest. The fire crackled in the hearth, its warmth brushing against my face. It should have comforted me.
It didn't.
Because the warmth felt wrong.
Not hot enough. Not alive enough. Not mine.
I pressed a hand to my chest — the human one, small and fragile — and felt the faint thrum of something deeper. A pulse that wasn't quite a heartbeat. A heat that wasn't quite fire. A reminder that the dragon wasn't gone.
Just… sleeping.
I swallowed hard and looked around the room. It was small, cluttered, and lived‑in. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books, jars of herbs, strange stones, and carved wooden figures. A thick rug covered the floor, worn but clean. A kettle hissed softly over the fire.
It felt safe.
Which made it terrifying.
I pulled the blankets tighter around myself, suddenly aware of how exposed I was. Halvard had said I'd been wearing tattered clothes, but I knew the truth — I'd had nothing. No clothes. No human form. No reason for him to take me in except curiosity.
Or pity.
Or something else entirely.
The door creaked open again, and Halvard stepped inside carrying a wooden tray. Steam rose from a bowl of thick stew, and a slice of dark bread sat beside it.
"Eat," he said simply, setting the tray on my lap. "You'll feel better."
I hesitated.
He raised an eyebrow. "It's food, lad. Not poison."
I picked up the spoon with trembling fingers. The first bite burned my tongue, not because it was hot, but because my body wasn't used to human senses. The flavors were overwhelming. Rich. Earthy. Strange.
But good.
Halvard watched me for a moment, then settled back into his chair.
"You were half‑frozen when I found you," he said. "Snowstorm nearly buried you. If I'd been an hour later…" He let the sentence trail off.
I swallowed another spoonful. "Why did you help me?"
He shrugged. "Would've been cruel not to."
That wasn't an answer. Not a real one.
He knew it. I knew it.
His eyes flicked to my arms, to the faint, silvery marks where scales had been. He didn't comment. But he saw.
"You're not from any village I know," he said. "And you don't speak like a local." He paused. "You don't look like you've had an easy time of it."
I looked down at my hands. Small. Human. Shaking.
"I don't remember much," I lied.
Halvard's gaze sharpened. Not accusing — assessing.
"Mm." He leaned back, stroking his beard. "Well. You can stay here until you're strong enough to stand. After that… we'll see."
Something in his tone softened, just a little.
"You're safe here," he added. "Whatever you're running from won't find you in these woods."
My breath caught.
If only he knew.
But for now… I let myself believe him. Just a little.
The warmth of the fire seeped into my bones. My eyelids grew heavy. The stew warmed my stomach. The blankets felt impossibly soft.
For the first time since waking in the egg, I felt myself drifting toward sleep without fear clawing at my throat.
Halvard stood, pulling the curtains closed against the winter night.
"Rest, lad," he said quietly. "We'll talk more in the morning."
The room dimmed. The fire crackled softly. And I let myself fall into the dark.
Not the cold, suffocating dark of the egg. Not the panicked dark of the tunnels.
A gentler dark.
A safe one.
For now.
When I woke again, the fire had burned low, leaving only glowing embers and a faint orange halo on the cabin walls. Snow tapped softly against the window, carried by a wind that howled like a distant beast.
For a moment, I forgot where I was.
Then the ache in my ribs reminded me.
I pushed myself upright, slower this time, and the room swayed around me. The blankets slid off my shoulders, revealing the thin, human arms that still didn't feel like mine. The faint silvery marks along my skin shimmered in the firelight — not scales, not anymore, but not normal either.
The door creaked open.
Halvard stepped inside carrying a stack of folded clothes. Thick wool. Hand‑stitched. Old, but clean.
"You're awake," he said, voice softer than before. "Good. I was starting to think you'd sleep through winter."
He set the clothes on the bed and studied me with that same sharp, assessing gaze — the kind that saw more than it should.
"You'll need these. Can't have you freezing again."
I nodded, pulling the blanket tighter around myself. "Thank you."
He waved a hand dismissively. "Don't thank me yet. You've caused me quite a bit of trouble."
My heart lurched — but then he smiled, a small, tired thing that softened the lines of his face.
"Not bad trouble," he added. "Just… unexpected."
He moved to the window, brushing frost from the glass. Outside, the forest stretched endlessly — dark pines heavy with snow, the sky a pale gray sheet.
"This place is quiet," he said. "Too quiet, some would say."
I watched him carefully. "Do you live alone?"
His shoulders tensed for a heartbeat — barely noticeable, but there.
"Aye," he said. "Been that way for a long time."
He didn't elaborate. But something in his voice cracked, just a little.
He turned back to me. "Used to be a school here, you know. A proper one. Students, teachers, the whole lot." He chuckled, though there was no humor in it. "Now it's just me. And the ghosts of better days."
A school.
My breath caught.
"What happened to it?"
Halvard hesitated — a long, heavy pause.
"Winter happened," he said finally. "A winter that didn't end. A storm that swallowed the valley whole. Took my students with it."
His eyes drifted to the fire, distant and haunted.
"People said it was cursed. Said I'd angered something ancient. They left. The Ministry closed the school. And I stayed."
He didn't look at me as he spoke the next words.
"Someone had to."
The room felt colder suddenly, the shadows deeper.
I swallowed. "I'm… sorry."
He shrugged. "Life takes what it wants. Gives what it wants." His gaze flicked back to me, sharp again. "And sometimes it drops a half‑dead boy in the snow outside my door."
I stiffened.
He noticed.
"Relax," he said with a light smile on his face, raising a hand. "I'm not throwing you out. Not until you can stand without falling over, at least."
He sat on the edge of the bed, the wood creaking under his weight.
"You're not normal," he said gently. "I knew that the moment I saw you. But I've seen stranger things in my time. And I've learned not to judge too quickly."
His eyes softened. Not with pity, but something warmer. Something dangerously close to care.
"You can stay here for winter break," he said. "Longer, if you need. The world won't miss this place, and I… wouldn't mind the company."
A strange warmth bloomed in my chest not fire, not instinct, but something quieter.
Something human.
Halvard stood, brushing snow from his coat.
"Rest now," he said. "We'll talk more tomorrow. And maybe… maybe I'll show you the school."
He paused at the doorway, looking back with a faint, wistful smile.
"It's been a long time since anyone walked those halls."
The door closed softly behind him.
And for the first time since my rebirth, I felt something I hadn't expected:
A place where I might belong. Even if only for a little while.