The sound rolled through the palace like a living thing, rattling the obsidian pillars and setting the gold-inlaid walls trembling. High above, in the vaulted ceilings, the crystal chandeliers swayed as if in a great wind
She felt it before she heard it—a deep, ancient vibration that sank into her bones, resonating with something primal in her very blood. Her molten-gold hair caught the shifting light, the faint runes on her black horns pulsing once, like a heartbeat
Outside, thousands of dragons wheeled and roared, their formation breaking in the skies. None of them knew why, only that something had stirred that demanded their attention
Her gaze fixed on the source. At the center of the grand chamber, resting on a pedestal of volcanic glass, sat the blackest egg she had ever seen. Its surface shimmered like the night sky—swirls of purple and blue nebulae shifting just beneath its shell, speckled with points of light like distant stars. When the light caught it, entire galaxies seemed to move inside
A jagged fracture split the cosmic shell, spilling faint streams of starlight into the air. The space around it rippled, constellations bending as if drawn toward the crack. The air hummed with alien energy, tasting of storms and the cold edge of the void
It was hatching
The crack split wide, and the chamber was drowned in starlight. Fragments of the shell broke away, drifting like shards of the night sky, each one glowing before fading into nothing
Heat surged out in a wave, rattling the windows and forcing the air to shimmer. The roars outside turned to a unified cry, a sound that shook the mountains
From within the collapsing shell, a silhouette began to stir
Her eyes narrowed
The last piece of the egg fell
a silhouette began to stir
A black dragon emerged, his scales so dark they seemed to drink in the light around him. Across their surface, faint, shifting constellations glimmered and vanished like whispers of the cosmos. His eyes were not merely bright—they were universes, vast and spinning, with distant stars and galaxies slowly wheeling in their depths
The newborn dragon blinked, galaxies turning in his eyes. Every true dragon speaks their name the moment they hatch—an unshakable truth of dragonkind
His came without thought. A roar tore from his tiny throat, shaking the very air, carrying a name that seemed to echo across worlds
Khalid Vaerynth
Now named Khalid, reborn as a dragon, he felt the weight of his new form settle into him. Every breath carried a strange power, every heartbeat thrummed with strength no human body could hold. The woman's arms were steady beneath him, her golden hair catching the light as she studied him with an expression that was far more than simple joy
"The world will know your name, my son," she said, her voice rich with pride and certainty
For the first time, Khalid truly saw
The air shimmered with strength—hers—and it pressed against him like the weight of a mountain. Even as a hatchling, he felt it in his bones, in the pulse of his new heart. This was not mere warmth. This was dominion, a power so absolute it made the void itself seem small
And it was his by blood
He didn't need to be told she was his mother. The truth was carved into the marrow of his being
His gaze roamed over his own form—gleaming black scales that caught faint light and swallowed it whole, limbs ending in sharp claws that flexed without thought, wings still damp and folded close against his sides. Every movement felt strange, yet powerful, as if the air itself bowed away from him.
Only then did he look beyond himself. High above, the vaulted ceiling of the palace shimmered with inlaid gold, while the open arches framed a sky teeming with dragons of every shape and color. Their roars rolled like distant storms. The air smelled of smoke, stone, and something ancient—something that felt like home, even though he had never been here before.
"Come my son" she said to Khalid
Her voice was steady—neither commanding nor coaxing—but it stirred something deep in him. The word son echoed inside, resonating through every scale, every bone. He followed without thinking, his claws clicking softly against the polished floor, wings shifting as he tried to find his balance.
"Where are we going?" he asked, his voice low and still strange in his own ears—deeper, rougher than any sound he'd made as a human.
"To introduce the world to you," she replied glancing over her shoulder
Each step forward made the world feel bigger… and him somehow smaller. Yet beneath that, there was something else—a quiet certainty, like the earth itself knew he belonged here.
The hall they moved through seemed endless, its walls carved with scenes of dragons wreathed in flame, ice, and lightning. Shadows danced across the gold and obsidian, and Khalid caught his reflection in the polished stone floor. For a heartbeat, he didn't recognize the creature staring back—a dragon born from the void, eyes filled with galaxies.
His mother stopped before two towering doors of black stone veined with gold, carved with writhing dragons whose wings stretched the full height.
She set a hand to the stone. "Beyond this are the elders of our kind. They will see you… and remember."
Power pressed from beyond the doors, vast and cold, like the weight of an endless ocean. Khalid felt it roll over him, testing him, measuring him.
Something ancient stirred in his chest. His wings flexed slightly, claws biting into the polished stone beneath him. Pride—pure and unyielding—rose within him, not the shallow pride of men but the deep, ageless certainty of a true dragon. His head lifted higher, his stance solid, as if to say to the unseen power beyond: I will not bow.
Beside him, his mother's eyes flicked down. She saw it—recognized it—and a low chuckle escaped her lips. The sound caught Khalid off guard, and he glanced at her.
She was smiling.
That simple expression, warm and knowing, pulled an answering smile from him before he could stop it
The doors opened.
The throne room stretched wide, its vaulted arches carved with stories of dragons past. Twelve elders stood in two lines—six on each side—each one a titan in their own right. Their eyes, old as mountains, followed him in silence. He met every gaze as he walked, refusing to look away first from a single one.
At the far end, the thrones waited. Hers was wrought of black stone veined with gold, its back crowned with dragon wings carved in flawless detail. His was the same—smaller, lower by only a step—but clearly meant to stand beside it.
His gaze lingered. Two thrones… but no father. The thought sat in his mind, unanswered.
"Come, my son," she said, her voice carrying like a commandment.
He walked at her side, each step echoing through the hall, each elder's eyes following him. When they reached the dais, she did not take her seat until he stood before his own.
"This is yours," she said, pride ringing in every word.
Khalid stared at it, the black stone seeming to drink in the light. On Earth, he had known what a throne meant—power, rule, command—but he had never thought about what came first in ruling. Was it fear? Respect? Or something else entirely?
But what came first—was it the right to command, or the strength to keep it?
The thought lingered as he stepped up. The black stone was cool under his claws, the constellations on the armrests seeming to pulse at his touch.
His mother sat, her gaze steady on him. Khalid turned and took his seat.
The air shifted. The elders no longer looked at a hatchling, but at a ruler.
Deep within, something ancient stirred, and he welcomed it.
They did not rise at first. The twelve elders remained still and silent as Khalid and his mother crossed the hall. Only when Queen Serenya lowered herself onto her throne—and Khalid took his place in the smaller seat beside her—did the elders stand.
Their movements were deliberate, heavy with the weight of age and authority. Twelve towering figures rose in unison, their shadows stretching long across the polished marble. Wings folded neatly to their backs, they stepped forward in perfect accord.
They bowed low, their voices joining in a deep, resonant chorus that shook the air.
"We greet Queen Serenya."
She inclined her head, a single graceful motion that nonetheless carried command. Then her gaze swept over them before settling on the black-scaled hatchling at her side.
"This," she said, her voice rich and unyielding, "is Khalid Vaerynth, heir to the House of Vaerynth."
A ripple moved through the chamber—not surprise, not doubt, but the shared weight of recognition.
As one, the elders bowed again.
"We greet Prince Khalid."
The title struck him strangely. Prince. On Earth, it had belonged to fairy tales. Here, it was real. And it was his.