That night, Green City did not sleep. Torches burned across the castle walls while soldiers dragged bodies from the battlefield below. The harbor remained alive with movement. Horses were led through the gates. Physicians moved from room to room carrying bowls of hot water stained pink with blood. Somewhere in the distance, drunken voices had already begun singing of Kelvin's victory.
Newton should have been thinking about the monastery, about Aemon, about his father.
Every hour that passed tightened the invisible rope around his neck. Edmond would already know something was wrong. He always knew. And the grand master would be worried. Newton could already imagine the cold silence waiting for him when he returned.
Yet strangely, the fear refused to settle fully inside him. Something else distracted him. Something heavier.
After washing the blood from his hands and changing into fresh clothing, he stepped out from the guest chambers assigned to the monastery knights and wandered into the castle halls alone.
The castle of Green City felt different from Snowland.
Warmer.
Not in temperature. In spirit. The stone walls carried southern carvings of vines, oceans, and old sea beasts instead of wolves and winter sigils. Lamps burned with golden flame instead of pale northern oil. Even the servants moved differently here, slower and less guarded.
Newton walked quietly through the outer courtyard. The night breeze brushed lightly against his face as he passed through the gardens. Flowers lined the stone paths despite the cold season, protected beneath hanging glass lanterns that glowed softly in the dark.
A small fountain rested near the center. Water trickled endlessly from the mouth of a carved serpent.
Newton stopped beside it for a moment. "The south is not bad after all," he murmured quietly.
The words surprised even him. For most of his life, the southern kingdoms had sounded distant in his mind. Soft kingdoms. Political kingdoms. Places filled with lords who hid behind armies instead of fighting like true Northerners.
Yet Green City felt alive. Bruised from war tonight, but alive. He continued walking. Past open balconies.
Past long corridors lined with paintings of former Ezion rulers. Past servants who bowed quickly whenever they noticed the blue monastery badge resting against his chest.
Eventually, his wandering brought him deeper into the older sections of the castle. That was when he saw the library. Newton slowed immediately.
The large wooden doors stood slightly open beneath flickering torchlight. Ancient symbols had been carved across the entrance stone, faded by time but still visible beneath the dust.
The library was silent. Almost too silent. And suddenly, Newton felt it again. That strange pull, not physical. Something deeper like a hand gently tightening around his thoughts. He frowned slightly.
"What history scrolls could they possibly have here?" The question sounded harmless enough in his own mind. But his feet were already moving before he finished thinking about it.
The old wooden door groaned softly as he pushed it wider and stepped inside. Dust floated lazily through the torchlight.
Massive shelves stretched across the room from floor to ceiling, packed tightly with ancient scrolls, books, and sealed records. Ladders rested against some of the higher shelves while old statues of forgotten kings, and wardens stood silently in the corners watching over the room.
Newton moved slowly between the shelves. His fingers brushed lightly across old scroll cases as he walked. Histories of southern trade.
Sea wars. The Dragarian conquest. None of it held his attention. He kept moving.
The deeper he walked into the library, the stranger the feeling became. His heartbeat slowed. Then quickened again. He turned another corner between the shelves and suddenly stopped.
The breath caught in his throat. That section of the library looked familiar. Not vaguely familiar, but painfully familiar.
Newton stared around slowly. The placement of the shelves. The narrow archway ahead. The final cabinet standing alone near the far wall. His pulse began climbing rapidly now.
"No…" He swallowed hard. "Why do I feel like I've been here before?"
For several seconds he remained completely still, searching desperately through his memory.
Then suddenly it struck him. The dreams.
Newton's eyes widened instantly. "The dragon egg." The whisper escaped him before he could stop it. His heart began hammering now. Every dream returned at once.
The endless room. The black cabinet. The egg resting beneath the torchlight. The feeling pulling him toward it over and over again.
Newton moved quickly now, not cautiously, but rationally. He walked through the library as if he already knew the path by memory. Past rows of shelves. Past ancient statues. Past tables buried beneath dust.
His breathing sharpened. "Could there truly be a dragon egg here?" The thought sounded insane, and impossible. Yet every step felt guided like something had been waiting for him to arrive.
Finally he reached the last cabinet. Newton's eyes slowly lifted upward toward the exact shelf from his dreams.
Then he froze completely.
The dragon egg was there, exactly as he had seen it in his dreams.
Resting against black cloth beneath the torchlight. For one terrible second, Newton forgot how to breathe.
The egg looked exactly the same as it always had in his dreams. Dark crimson scales wrapped around its surface like hardened stone. Thin golden veins stretched through it faintly, almost glowing beneath the dim light.
Newton stared at it in complete disbelief. "Holy gods…" The words barely left his mouth. "It's real."
He stepped closer slowly. His thoughts became chaotic. The dreams were real. Not imagination, not madness, but real.
The dragon egg existed. His mouth went dry instantly. "But why?" he whispered to himself. "Why have being seeing itt?"
What connection could possibly exist between a monastery knight from Snowland and the last dragon egg in the world?
Questions crashed endlessly through his mind while the egg sat there silently before him.
Waiting.
Newton stared at it for a long time. Then another memory returned. The dreams never ended with him simply finding the egg.
They always ended the same way. Touch the egg, te dragon hatching.
His chest tightened. "Will it truly hatch if I touch it?" The thought sounded ridiculous the moment he spoke it aloud.
History has it that no one except Dragarians can hatch dragons. And the Dragarian bloodline is long gone. Every member of House Dragaria is dead.
Every story said so. But yet, Newton could not ignore the feeling crawling beneath his skin. A part of him believed completely. Another part feared believing at all.
He exhaled slowly. "I suppose I will never know unless I touch it." The room suddenly felt smaller, and quieter.
Even the air seemed heavier now. Newton walked toward the shelf carefully. The egg looked motionless.
Dead.
Nothing more than stone. But his heartbeat refused to calm. Images from his dreams flashed violently through his mind again.
The cracking shell. Golden eyes opening. Fire flooding darkness. His hand slowly lifted toward the egg.
Closer, and closer. His fingers almost brushed the surface when a voice suddenly echoed behind him.
"I presume you are fascinated by it."
Newton jolted so hard he nearly reached for his sword. He spun around immediately.
Kelvin Ezion stood near the library entrance watching him quietly. The dwarf leaned slightly against a cane now, his injuries from the battle slowing his movements. Yet his sharp eyes missed nothing.
Newton stepped back from the shelf quickly. "I am sorry, my lord," he said at once. "I got carried away by its appearance."
Kelvin smiled faintly. "There is nothing to apologize for." He slowly approached the shelf beside Newton. The dwarf's eyes lingered briefly on the dragon egg before returning to Newton's face. "You are not the first man to stare at it for too long. Everyone of us has been blown by it at some point."
Newton forced a small smile, though his pulse still had not settled.
Kelvin rested one hand lightly against the cabinet. "That," he said quietly, "is the last known dragon egg in existence."
Newton looked back at it. Up close, the egg felt even stranger somehow.
Ancient, heavy, and cleeping. Kelvin continued. "King Robert ordered the destruction of every dragon egg after the Rebellion."
Newton finally turned toward him again. "Why?"
Kelvin gave a small shrug.."I do not know." His voice softened slightly. "Perhaps he feared the return of dragons. Perhaps he feared the return of the Dragarians even more."
The name lingered heavily in the air.
Dragarians.
The old royal bloodline. The dragon riders who were believed to have descended from a planet called Jupiter. But are now extinct. Or so the world believed.
Kelvin smiled faintly again. "It hardly matters now. Without a Dragarian, dragon eggs are as lifeless as stone."
Newton's eyes drifted back toward the egg instinctively.
Stone. Yes.
That was what it should have been..So why did it feel like something inside it was waiting? Kelvin noticed the way Newton kept staring. "Why do you think I kept it?"
Newton looked at him. "If it cannot hatch, why keep it at all?"
Kelvin stepped closer to the shelf. "For history." His fingers brushed lightly against the cabinet. "And because being the last dragon egg in existence makes it one of the most valuable treasures in the realm."
Newton swallowed slowly.
Valuable.
That word barely mattered to him right now. His thoughts remained trapped elsewhere.
The dreams.
The feeling grew stronger the closer he stood to it. Almost without thinking, he asked quietly: "May I touch it?"
Kelvin looked surprised for only a second Then he nodded. "You may."
Newton's pulse climbed again immediately..Kelvin studied him carefully before adding: "If you wish, you may even take it with you."
Newton turned sharply toward him. The dwarf smiled faintly. "It is the least I can offer after what you did for me." Newton shook his head immediately. "You do not owe me payment."
"Kindness should always be rewarded," Kelvin replied calmly. His eyes returned briefly toward the egg. "You may sell it someday if you wish. It would fetch enough gold to make lesser lords kill one another."
Newton almost laughed quietly at that. But his attention drifted back toward the egg again almost immediately.
Kelvin noticed. Then slowly, the dwarf stepped away from the shelf. "I will leave you to your curiosity."
Newton looked at him again.
Kelvin gave him one final small nod before turning toward the exit. His cane tapped softly against the stone floor as he disappeared deeper into the library shadows.
Then the room fell silent once more. Leaving Newton alone with the dragon egg again.