Sooty bricks ringed a great stone hearth once used to dry towels. Now only an ember bed glowed. Zephyr fed new logs and crouched until tongues of flame licked high. He set the crate close, arranged fire-bloom petals Fenna had given him around the shell, then sat back, letting Incubation Aura flow.
System: "Optimal temperature reached. Hatch meter: 5 %."
A quiet and slow start… but a start.
Day one: Zephyr woke before dawn. He shoveled fresh coals, added herb bundles to keep scent low, then hurried to Wing Two duties. Wren tasked him with mixing herbs for a molting Flame Viper. All the while, he felt the egg's pulse inside his chest, like a soft drum echoing his heart. Evening check: Hatch 15 %.
Day two: Fenna arrived with a basket of supplies: feather-soft moss, a small warming stone, and a jar of honey cakes. She set them beside the hearth and smiled. "Cakes keep caretakers upright." Zephyr touched her hand in thanks. They talked about herb songs until curfew bell. Hatch 26 %.
Day three: A surprise inspection swept the dorms; guards searched for contraband stimulants. Zephyr's pulse raced. He slipped to the furnace room, lifted the crate, and hid in a broom cupboard while footsteps thudded overhead. He held his breath until the clamor passed. Sweat chilled his back, but the egg stayed warm. Hatch 34 %.
Day four: Callen Dros strutted through Wing Two with his Bristle Fang, boasting of new combat drills. The beast's nostrils flared at the furnace door. Zephyr stepped into its path with a cart of bandages. "Delivery," he muttered. Callen sneered but nudged his cub away. Only when they vanished did Zephyr's knees stop shaking. Hatch 45 %.
Day five: Fenna spent the afternoon break reading by the fire while Zephyr tended the egg. She hummed a lullaby her mother used in herb fields. Silver motes drifted off the shell. Zephyr's hand brushed hers when they shifted the blanket. Electricity leapt up his arm. Fenna's cheeks flushed rose, but she did not move away. Hatch 58 %.
Day six: Snow turned to sleet; water dripped through loose stones. Zephyr patched leaks with old canvas to keep the hearth dry. At midnight faint thuds echoed inside the egg. It was like tiny knocks on a locked door. The system chimed: Heartbeat detected. Imprint link was slowly forming. Hatch 74 %.
Day seven: Shafts of dawn seeped through basement cracks. Zephyr dozed beside the hearth, cloak draped over the crate. A sharp crack split air and dream together. He jerked upright. Fenna, who had arrived before the first bell, grabbed his sleeve, eyes wide.
Another crack. A bright fissure crawled across the shell, releasing violet-silver light. Tiny fragments popped away.
[Ding! System notifications: Hatching in progress. Maintain a calm presence. Imprint window: 60 seconds.]
Zephyr knelt, hands steady, voice soft. "I am here, little star."
The shell burst open. A sleek head like midnight black, flecked with starlight emerged. Two silver eyes blinked, ancient in their wonder. Small wings unfolded, translucent like moonlit glass. The hatchling tumbled onto the moss, roaring a note that rang like crystal.
Golden light leapt from Zephyr's heart, twining with the hatchling in glowing ribbons. Power surged between them. It was warm, deep, as if two halves finally met. A taming mark from on zephyr hands. It looked like a dragon's head inside a circle.
[Ding! System notifications: Imprint complete. Bond Level: Absolute.
Skill 'Dragon Sovereign Bond' fully active.]
A new status line flashed:
[Bonded Beast: Star Scale Dragonling (Infant) Potential: SSS-Rank God-tier. ]
The hatchling climbed into Zephyr's arm, claws were gentle, and pressed its nose to his neck. A soft hum of purr, song, promise, vibrated through his bones. Tears blurred his vision.
Fenna's voice shook with joy. "He chose you."
Zephyr looked at her, then at the beast curled against his collar. "No," he whispered. "We chose each other."
He extended one hand toward Fenna. She placed hers atop, and the dragonling rested a tiny paw against both. A triangle of warmth formed, maybe tamer, or friend bonding. It was small yet unbreakable.
Outside, sleet stilled. Pale sun washed the eastern sky gold. Lowmoor academy's towers looked less like prison walls and more like stepping stones toward the endless sky.
The caretaker boy of yesterday was gone. A Dragon Sovereign had awakened. And the echo of his promise, "I will change my fate and carry on the morning wind, straight into tomorrow."
The furnace room felt larger now, though nothing had moved except the three of them. Embers glowed low. Morning light crept through cracks in the stone ceiling and brushed tiny motes of ash into soft gold.
Zephyr sat cross-legged on the warm bricks, cradling the newborn dragonling. Fenna sat close, her cloak drawn tight around her knees. For a full minute they said nothing, afraid that words might break the small miracle curled between them.
The dragonling was black as midnight, speckled like a clear sky, it slept against Zephyr's chest. Its wings, no bigger than a sparrow's, rose and fell with each gentle breath. Every few seconds a soft hum rumbled in its throat, as if it dreamed of far-off clouds and bright stars.
Fenna looked up. "Does he… have a name?"
Zephyr smiled at the tiny snout tucked under his collar. "He should." He thought of the silver in its eyes, the violet shimmer on its shell, and the way light seemed to follow it like a friend. "Star," he whispered. "Because he was born of night and light together."
"Star," she repeated, tasting the word. Her smile widened. "Hello, little Star."
Star purr once, half-awake, as though he liked the sound.