The forest had grown quieter.
Too quiet.
Aerion walked carefully through the dense trees, each step measured, each movement controlled—not for his own safety, but for what he carried in his arms.
The egg.
It felt heavier now.
Not physically.
But in meaning.
Cradled securely against his chest, wrapped in a piece of his cloak, the massive egg pulsed faintly with that same slow golden glow. Its surface, layered like ancient armor, seemed almost alive under his touch.
Aerion's grip tightened slightly.
"…I'm not letting anything happen to you," he murmured under his breath.
He didn't know why he said it.
Or why it felt natural.
But it did.
The forest around him rustled softly.
A branch snapped somewhere to his right.
Aerion stopped instantly.
His senses sharpened.
The training from earlier still echoed in his body, and now—combined with that strange awakening inside him—his awareness felt… heightened.
He shifted his stance slightly, positioning his body between the sound and the egg.
The leaves parted.
Three figures emerged.
Rough.
Unkempt.
Forest bandits—or perhaps opportunists who had wandered too far from safer paths.
Their eyes immediately locked onto the egg.
One of them smirked.
"Well… looks like someone's carrying treasure."
Aerion didn't respond.
His gaze remained calm.
Cold.
Another stepped forward. "Hand it over. Nice and easy."
Still nothing.
The third one laughed. "Or we take it."
A long silence followed.
Then Aerion spoke.
"…You picked the wrong path today."
Before they could react—
He moved.
Not fast in a way they could follow.
Not even in a way that looked like speed.
It was just—
Decisive.
One step forward—
A sharp strike to the first man's wrist.
The weapon dropped instantly.
A pivot—
The second man was already on the ground before he understood what happened.
The third tried to react—
Too late.
Aerion didn't even fully draw his blade.
The flat of it struck hard enough to knock him unconscious without causing lasting harm.
Silence returned to the forest.
The entire encounter had lasted less than a few seconds.
Aerion stood still for a moment, then looked down at the egg.
Untouched.
Safe.
"…Good."
He adjusted his hold slightly, more careful now, almost instinctively protective.
Whatever this was—
It wasn't just something he had found.
It was something that had been waiting.
And now—
It was his responsibility.
Without another word, he continued walking.
By the time the palace walls came into view, the sun had begun its slow descent, casting warm golden light across the city.
Aerion didn't stop anywhere else.
He went straight to her.
Lyria was in the inner garden when he found her.
She stood near the central fountain, speaking quietly with one of the attendants. The moment she sensed his presence, she turned.
And immediately—
Her eyes locked onto what he was holding.
The conversation around her stopped.
The attendant quietly stepped away.
Lyria walked toward him slowly.
"…Aerion?"
There was something in her voice.
Not fear.
But deep curiosity.
Aerion stopped a few steps away.
"I found something."
"That's… obvious."
Her eyes moved over the egg carefully.
Taking in its size.
Its texture.
The faint golden patterns.
The way it almost seemed to breathe.
She stepped closer.
"Can I?"
Aerion nodded.
Carefully, she reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against the surface.
The moment she touched it—
The golden lines pulsed faintly.
Lyria froze.
"…It reacted."
Aerion's gaze sharpened. "It did that when I read the symbols."
Her eyes lifted to his. "Symbols?"
"There's writing on it."
"What does it say?"
He hesitated for just a second.
Then told her.
"'Born of the First Flame… Bound to the Heir… Awaken when the Crown returns… and the world shall burn or be reborn.'"
Silence fell between them.
Lyria slowly looked back at the egg.
"…That's not something normal."
"No."
They stood there for a few seconds, just observing it.
Trying to understand something that clearly wasn't meant to be easily understood.
Finally, Lyria exhaled softly.
"It's alive."
Aerion nodded. "I know."
Another pause.
Then she looked at him again.
"What do you want to do with it?"
Aerion didn't answer immediately.
Because the truth was—
He didn't fully know.
But something inside him had already decided.
"I don't think we're meant to leave it," he said.
Lyria studied his face.
Then the egg.
Then back to him.
A small, thoughtful smile formed.
"Then we don't."
He blinked once. "That easy?"
She shrugged lightly. "It chose you. Or you chose it. Either way, it's not random."
She stepped closer again, her voice soft but certain.
"Why don't we take care of it?"
Aerion tilted his head slightly. "Take care of it?"
"Until it hatches."
The idea settled between them.
Strange.
Unexpected.
And yet—
It felt right.
Aerion looked down at the egg again.
"…Alright."
Lyria smiled a little more.
"Good."
Then her expression shifted into something sharper.
"But we are not doing this blindly."
He almost smiled. "Of course not."
"We need to know what it is."
"I was thinking the same."
Her eyes lit slightly.
"There's someone."
An hour later—
They stood in front of a quiet, old building tucked away in a less crowded part of the city.
Its exterior was simple, almost unimpressive.
But the sign near the door read clearly:
"Jubhi — Oologist"
Lyria glanced at Aerion. "This is the best we have."
"That sounds promising."
"It is."
She pushed the door open.
Inside, the space was filled with shelves.
Hundreds of them.
Eggs of all sizes, colors, and textures were carefully placed in glass cases, labeled with neat handwriting. Some were small enough to fit in a palm. Others were larger than a person's head.
Books were stacked everywhere.
Scrolls, notes, tools.
And at the center of it all—
An old man sat hunched over a desk, adjusting a delicate instrument.
Without looking up, he spoke.
"Shop's closed."
Lyria crossed her arms. "You said that last time too."
The old man froze.
Slowly—
He looked up.
His eyes widened slightly.
"Princess Lyria."
"Hello, Jubhi."
Then his gaze shifted to Aerion.
And then—
To the egg.
Everything stopped.
The tool in his hand slipped from his fingers.
"…What…"
He stood up slowly.
Walked closer.
And then just stared.
His lips parted slightly.
His hands trembled faintly.
"I… I have spent sixty-two years studying eggs…" he whispered.
His eyes didn't move.
"…and I have never seen anything like this."
Aerion and Lyria exchanged a glance.
Jubhi circled around it slowly.
Examining every detail.
The patterns.
The structure.
The faint glow.
"This is not just rare…" he murmured.
"This should not exist."
Lyria stepped forward slightly. "Can you identify it?"
Jubhi didn't answer immediately.
Then he shook his head.
"…No."
That single word made the air heavier.
"But," he added quickly, "there may be something."
He turned sharply.
"Come with me."
They followed him through a narrow hallway and up a set of old wooden stairs.
At the top—
A large door.
Jubhi pushed it open.
And inside—
Was a library.
Massive.
Dusty.
Ancient.
Shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, filled with books so old their titles had nearly faded away.
But what drew attention immediately—
Was the wall.
Directly across from the window.
A massive painting hung there.
A man.
Tall.
Stern.
Wise.
The details of his expression carried weight even through paint.
Lyria looked at it.
"That's…?"
"My master," Jubhi said quietly.
"Bherol."
Aerion studied the painting briefly.
Something about it felt…
Important.
But before he could think further—
Jubhi moved past them.
"Search everything. Every record, every scroll. If this egg exists in history—this is where we'll find it."
Hours passed.
They searched.
Book after book.
Scroll after scroll.
Ancient texts.
Forgotten languages.
Descriptions of creatures long extinct.
None matched.
Nothing even came close.
Lyria leaned back against a shelf, exhaling.
"Nothing…"
Aerion closed another book slowly.
"…Yeah."
Jubhi rubbed his eyes.
"I need to check something downstairs," he said. "Keep looking."
And then he left.
Silence filled the library.
Time passed.
Slowly.
The golden light of evening shifted into the softer glow of sunset.
Then—
Night.
Lyria sat down beside a stack of books.
"…Just for a minute."
Aerion sat near the window.
The cool night air drifted in.
His eyes grew heavy.
"…Yeah."
The search had drained them more than they realized.
And eventually—
Without noticing—
They fell asleep.
Morning came quietly.
The first light of the sun slipped through the window.
Soft.
Golden.
And it fell—
Directly onto the egg.
The ancient patterns lit up.
Brighter than before.
The glow spread across its surface like flowing fire.
Then—
A pulse.
A wave of energy burst outward.
Silent.
But powerful.
And that energy shot forward—
Striking the painting of Bherol.
CRACK—!
The painting fell.
Hard.
The sound echoed through the library.
Aerion's eyes snapped open.
Lyria jolted awake.
"What—?!"
They both turned.
The massive painting lay on the floor.
Dust rising around it.
"How did that fall?" Lyria said.
"It was secure."
Aerion stood immediately and walked toward it.
Something felt—
Off.
He reached down.
Gripped the frame.
And lifted it.
Then froze.
"…Lyria."
She stepped closer.
"What?"
Aerion moved the painting aside.
Behind it—
Was an opening.
A hidden passage.
Dark.
Ancient.
Waiting.
Lyria's breath caught.
"…That wasn't there before."
Aerion looked into the darkness.
Then at her.
No words were needed.
They stepped inside.
The hidden room was small.
But filled with something heavy.
Not physically.
But historically.
The walls were covered.
Drawings.
Symbols.
Records.
And at the center—
One image.
Large.
Detailed.
Perfectly preserved.
Lyria stepped forward slowly.
Her eyes widened.
"…Aerion…"
He already saw it.
Because there—
On the wall—
Was a drawing.
Of the same egg.
Every detail identical.
The patterns.
The shape.
The glow.
Exactly the same.
Silence filled the hidden chamber.
To be continued...