Newton stood motionless before the dragon egg after Kelvin left the library.
Silence wrapped around the room once again.
The old shelves stood unmoving beneath dim torchlight while shadows stretched across the floor like sleeping spirits. Somewhere outside, distant laughter from celebrating soldiers drifted faintly through the castle halls, but inside the library, everything felt separated from the rest of the world.
Still, and heavy.
Newton's eyes remained fixed on the egg. The dark crimson shell reflected the torchlight faintly, its golden veins glimmering like trapped fire beneath stone. The closer he looked at it, the stranger it seemed. Not dead. Not alive either.
Waiting.
He swallowed slowly. Then stepped toward it again..His boots echoed softly against the library floor.
One step, then another.
By the time he reached the cabinet, his heartbeat had already begun climbing again. "This is foolish," he muttered under his breath.
Yet he did not stop moving. His hand slowly lifted toward the egg carefully, almost cautiously. As if some part of him feared what would happen the moment his skin touched the shell.
The dreams returned to his mind immediately. The cracking egg, the golden eyes. The sound of wings unfolding through darkness.
Newton's fingers hovered inches away now. Then finally, he touched it.
The reaction hit instantly. His body jerked sharply. Heat surged through the shell into his palm so suddenly that his breath caught in his throat. Not ordinary warmth. This felt deeper. Alive. The sensation spread rapidly through his arm like liquid fire racing beneath his skin.
Newton's eyes widened. "It's happening." His voice barely escaped him. "Just like in the dreams."
His pulse hammered violently now. The heat intensified.
For one wild moment, Newton truly believed the shell beneath his fingers had moved. He closed his eyes immediately. Hope exploded inside him before reason could stop it.
The dragon would hatch. He knew it.
The shell would crack open exactly the way it always did in his dreams. Fire would spill out. Wings would rise. The impossible would stand before him breathing.
His breathing became uneven. Seconds passed. Then more seconds. Yet nothing happened.
Slowly, Newton opened his eyes again. The dragon egg remained exactly where it had been.
Still, silent, and unchanged.
No cracks, no movement, nothing.
The heat had faded completely now. Newton stared at it for several moments without speaking. Then his brows slowly pulled together. "It didn't hatch?"
The disappointment in his own voice irritated him immediately. He exhaled sharply and stepped back from the shelf. "Of course it didn't hatch."
A quiet laugh escaped him then, though it carried more embarrassment than amusement. "What exactly was I expecting?" He rubbed his forehead slowly. "Only Dragarians can hatch dragon eggs."
The words sounded ridiculous now that he said them aloud. Yet minutes ago, he had truly believed it.
Newton shook his head at himself. "And here I was thinking it would hatch because of some stupid dreams."
The library suddenly felt colder. More ordinary. The egg sat motionless on the shelf like nothing more than an expensive stone.
Newton stared at it one last time before turning away. But he stopped after only a few steps.
That feeling returned again, the pull. Not stronger than before, but persistent. His eyes slowly drifted back toward the cabinet.
The dragon egg rested there silently beneath the torchlight.
Newton frowned slightly. "Why do I still feel connected to it?'
"Why does walking away suddenly feel wrong?"
He stood there struggling with the feeling for several long seconds. Then finally sighed. "I suppose I should take it with me."
The decision settled inside him almost too naturally. "Kelvin had offered it freely."
And despite everything, Newton no longer liked the idea of leaving it behind. He walked back toward the shelf slowly. "If I ever need money," he murmured quietly, "I could sell it for a fortune."
The practical explanation sounded easier to accept than the truth. Because deep down, Newton already knew greed had nothing to do with why he wanted the egg.
He grabbed an old carrying bag resting near one of the shelves and opened it carefully. Then slowly, almost respectfully, he lifted the dragon egg from the cabinet.
The moment it rested in his hands again, warmth pulsed faintly through the shell.
Newton froze.
Not as strong as before, but it was there. Alive enough for him to notice.
His throat tightened slightly.
Yet the egg remained motionless. No cracks appeared. No dragon emerged. After a few seconds, the warmth faded once again.
Newton swallowed and carefully lowered the egg into the bag before tying it securely shut. Then he slung the bag over his shoulder. The extra weight settled against his back immediately.
Heavy, ancient, and strangely comforting.
Newton glanced around the library one final time before walking toward the exit. The old wooden doors groaned softly behind him as he stepped back into the castle corridors.
Outside, Green City still celebrated victory. Servants hurried through the halls carrying wine and food while soldiers laughed loudly near the lower chambers. Somewhere music had already begun playing.
Newton ignored all of it. His thoughts remained trapped inside the library. Inside the dreams. Inside the strange warmth he had felt beneath his hand.
He returned quietly to the chamber assigned to him within the castle. The room was simple but comfortable. A fire crackled softly inside the stone hearth while fresh blankets had been laid neatly across the bed. His sword rested against the wall beside the door.
Newton removed the dragon egg carefully from his shoulder and placed the bag near the bedside table.
For several seconds, he simply stared at it. The room suddenly felt different with the egg inside it. Smaller somehow. More crowded. As though another presence existed there now besides him.
He shook the thought away quickly. "You're losing your mind."
Exhaustion had finally begun catching him. The battle, the journey, the pressure from home and the monastery. Everything weighed heavily against his body now.
Newton removed his boots slowly before collapsing onto the bed fully clothed. The mattress dipped beneath him. His eyes drifted once toward the bag again. Then sleep finally took him.
But far away from Green City, beyond the sea and southern forests, another man woke up groaning.
Cliff Land stood silent beneath the midnight sky.
Cold wind battered the cliffs endlessly while waves crashed violently against the rocks below. High above the shoreline, hidden within an ancient stone temple carved into the mountain itself, old candles flickered restlessly against the darkness.
The temple smelled of incense and age. Ancient symbols covered the walls. Statues of forgotten gods watched silently from the corners. And at the center of the chamber, the old High Priest of Ago suddenly groaned in pain.
His body bent violently forward atop the stone floor. The silver bowls surrounding him rattled loudly.
The old man clutched his chest tightly as his breathing turned uneven.
"The bond." His voice trembled. "It has begun."
The candles around him flickered harder suddenly as though reacting to the words themselves.
The old priest lifted his shaking hands toward the ceiling.
Far beyond the temple walls, thunder rumbled across the distant sea.
"The dragon has united with its rider."
A weak laugh escaped him then. Not madness, but relief. Years of waiting buried inside one sound.
The old priest's shoulders shook faintly as he struggled to steady his breathing again. "So it is true," he whispered. "After all these years..." Another laugh escaped him. This time stronger. He tilted his head upward toward the darkness above.
"The days of dragons are returning." The words echoed softly through the ancient temple halls.
Outside, the wind howled harder against the cliffs. The old priest closed his eyes slowly. Tears gathered at the corners despite the smile forming across his face.
"Indeed," he whispered weakly, "the gods are not men that they should lie."