Callen's eyes narrowed. "Where did you truly find that egg?" He brushed past, muttering. Suspicion burned like ember under snow.
Zephyr hurried away, pulse racing.
Back in the cellar, Star devoured warm mash and curled around Zephyr's arm. The system displayed updated growth:
[Star Attributes:
Wing power: 4
Strength 4
Agility 9
Fire 3
Sense 7
New Passive: Quiet Glow- scales dim automatically when unknown mana exceeds safety limit.]
Zephyr grinned. "Smart protective hide."
Another window appears:
[Major Quest Unlocked:
Path of the Young Sovereign (Stage 1)
Objective A: Enhance Star to Juvenile stage (20 cm wingspan).
Objective B: Raise Host Blood-line to 15 %.
Time: 40 days.
Reward: Dragon Sovereign Bond and Command Aura (first tier).]
The timeline tightened his chest. "Forty days to grow stronger before Guild eyes return." He resolved to gather rare feed minerals, train quietly, and keep political storms at bay.
That night Fenna entered carrying a brass locket. "My mother gave it for safe journeys." She opened it; inside, pressed moonleaf glowed faint green. "It calms surge beasts. Pin it in the sling near Star."
Zephyr's throat tightened with gratitude. He pinned the locket. Star sniffed, purred.
He caught Fenna's hand. "I can face anything with you beside me." She looked away shyly, then leaned up and kissed his cheek, a quick spark that left them both smiling like fools.
Near curfew, Zephyr climbed the tower for fresh air. Snow clouds parted; stars blazed. Star sat on the parapet, tiny chest puffed. The wind carried faint echoes from the south gate, clanking armour, hushed voices.
Dragon Sense stretched. Two riders conversed beyond walls.
"Nothing unusual," one said. "But Seer Kalthis marked that caretaker for review. We leave watchers."
Zephyr's blood chilled. "They are not fooled completely."
He scooped Star close. "We must grow fast," he whispered to the night. "Faster than their doubt."
A single shooting star streaked overhead. Star followed it with bright silver eyes. Together, they watched it burn, a promise painting darkness with light.
A sliver of dawn slipped over Lowmoor academy's east wall, staining frost-tipped rooftops peach and pale gold. Zephyr leaned on the parapet of the abandoned observation tower, Star perched on his shoulder inside a wool-lined cowl. The hatchling's scales gleamed faintly beneath the cloth, silver eyes following every bird in the winter sky.
Below, the academy stirred. Caretakers hauled feed carts; first-year tamers hurried to drills; two unfamiliar men with hard-jawed, cloaks too fine for staff loitered near the eastern arch. Dragon Sense traced subtle mana threads clinging to their belts, the signature of Royal Guild scouts. The watchers Seer Kalthis had promised.
Zephyr's gut tightened. "They will stay until they find a flaw. We must be careful."
Star nudged his cheek, humming a quiet note. Zephyr stroked the little dragon's neck. "We have work to do, small scout. Forty days isn't long."
He descended the tower and crossed frost-slick flagstones to the supply yard, where a cart already stood hitched to an old mule. Grent barked orders while swinging sacks of grain onto the flat bed.
"Valorian!" the grizzled caretaker called. "You're late. We ride into Hollowford for winter minerals, feed stores say we're low." His scarred hands tossed a ledger. "You keep count, I keep the mule alive. Deal?"
Zephyr climbed aboard, cloak drawn tight. "A trip outside the walls, chance to gather rarities for Star's growth."
The mule plodded along a rutted road dusted in white. Pines bowed under snow; distant peaks shimmered with fresh ice. Star rested warm against Zephyr's ribs, hidden. Two hours later Hollowford appeared: a huddle of timber inns and smoky taverns around a moss-grown bridge. Market stalls lined the square, flames from brazier pans chasing off the chill.
Grent unloaded standard feed from the cart and haggled noisily for salt blocks. Zephyr slipped away, following memory of a note Wren once muttered: "Old Binder's mineral booth sells decent sunstone grit."
Down a narrow alley he found a canvas awning. Inside, boxes overflowed with raw crystals, fiery orange sunstone shards, violet charrock, green mana-salt. An elderly vendor raised wiry brows. "Caretaker, coin or Guild money?"
"Just coin," Zephyr said. "How much for a palm of sunstone grit and… that packet of auric ash?"
The vendor weighed both, quoted a price steep for a stable boy. Zephyr counted coins Fenna had pressed into his hand that morning, almost enough. He hesitated.
Star squirmed in the sling, tail tapping a rhythm. Zephyr sensed intent: Try bargaining. He straightened and met the vendor's gaze. "Your ash is old stock, edges dulled, potency dropped. I'll pay half plus a favor, fresh moonleaf balm straight from Lowmoor academy's greenhouse. Good for cracked hands."
The man grunted. "Moonleaf's rare midwinter." He eyed Zephyr's worn gloves. "Deal. Bring balm next market run."
Zephyr paid, tucking grit and ash into a pouch sewn inside his cloak lining. He purchased a small vial of cloud-spring water from another stall in return for cleaning a chipped rune plate with Beast Feed cultivation, tiny demonstration that earned a nod.
By noon, cart loaded, they returned along the frozen track. Inside his sling, Star dozed, belly warm from secret packet of sunstone dust Zephyr let him lick once. The dragonling dreamed of fire; snatches of smoky images drifted across the bond, volcanic caverns, molten rivers. Zephyr smiled.
"Wild dreams."
Back at Lowmoor academy, Zephyr carried sacks to Wing Two storehouse. Near the gate Callen Dros lounged, Bristle Fang panting at his feet. The trainee's eyes narrowed when he spotted the bulging pouch on Zephyr's belt.
"Busy day for a feeder," Callen drawled. "What exotic seeds you got there?"
"Mineral supplements," Zephyr said. "For molting lynxes. Ask Wren."
"I might." Callen stepped closer. His Bristle Fang sniffed the air, lip curling. Star's warmth flared, instinctive flame ready. Zephyr tightened the sling, willing calm through the bond. The dragonling's scales dimmed with Quiet Glow hiding heat.