Vale walked across the wet surface of the bloody sea, each step sending faint ripples outward like liquid glass. Ahead of him, the small pale egg trembled violently. Whatever was inside was struggling, desperate to break free. Cracks spread across its smooth surface, glowing faintly from within.
"Calm down, will you…" Vale murmured as he approached, his voice quiet but oddly gentle.
The chained man followed a few paces behind, his heavy steps silent despite the weight of his armor. Even he seemed interested, something rare enough to unsettle Vale more than the trembling egg itself.
Vale crouched once he reached it. The egg lay where it always had, beside the pile of books and the faint reflection of the black suns above. He lowered himself to sit cross-legged and reached out carefully. It was warm, alive even. Despite the chaos of its movements, it fit snugly in his hand, though only barely.
The chained man came to stand beside him. Then, almost uncharacteristically, he crouched down as well. His masked face tilted slightly, dark gaze fixed upon the egg.
"So…" Vale began, watching the cracks deepen. "What do you think it's gonna look like?"
The man turned his head toward him briefly, then back to the egg. When he spoke, his voice was smooth, deep, almost unreal in its clarity, like the voice of something meant to be obeyed.
"You can't really know," he said slowly, letting each word form with deliberate weight. "After all… it's that woman's child."
Vale blinked, frowning slightly as he processed the words one by one. He had grown good at deciphering the man's speech, but this time, confusion slipped through.
"Her?" Vale asked.
The man's gaze didn't move from the egg. "Did she take a male form when you met?"
The question hit Vale like a quiet revelation. Understanding dawned, and he gave a small, breathless laugh. "So that's what it was… she can change her form."
The memory of that creature, her distorted, corpse-like voice echoing through the sea, flashed briefly in his mind. No wonder he hadn't recognized her true nature.
A fragment of the eggshell fell away, landing softly on the sea's surface before being swallowed by it. Vale leaned closer.
The massive white tiger had returned by then, padding silently across the crimson waves. It sat beside them, tail curling neatly around its paws as it watched. The other two creatures, the black lizard and the crimson centipede, soon joined as well, forming a quiet circle around the hatching egg.
Through the widening cracks, Vale caught glimpses of motion, something pale and sinuous. Then, for a heartbeat, he saw it clearly: a tail, twitching weakly. In the center of that tail… an eye opened.
It was slitted like that of a cat or serpent, burning bright ember, but the color wasn't stable. It shimmered and shifted between hues, as though the creature's very essence was undecided, its nature still being written.
The moment their eyes met, Vale felt it. A jolt, not pain, but recognition. A link forming deep inside him, resonating in a place beyond thought or language.
The chained man's gauntleted hand came to rest on his shoulder.
"Don't worry," the man said, his tone softer than usual. "It's establishing a resonance link. Like telepathy—but for emotions, not words."
Vale didn't answer. He couldn't. The connection was too strange, too intimate. He could feel the creature's heartbeat, its confusion, its fragile sense of trust bleeding faintly into his own chest.
Another fragment of shell broke off, then another. Piece by piece, the egg came apart, revealing the small being curled within. When at last the shell gave way completely, Vale found himself holding a pale reptilian creature no larger than a newborn bird.
Its body was lean and powerful, shaped like that of a miniature theropod, a mix between a drake and something older, rawer. Two small foreclaws clutched weakly at Vale's fingers, while its hind legs trembled as it tried to stand.
Its scales shimmered faintly under the dull light of the black suns, pale as snow, but not lifeless. There was something pure about it. Something that made the air hum faintly around it, as though reality itself were adjusting to its birth.
Vale smiled softly. "Guess you're not what I expected," he murmured. "I was thinking wings, maybe a halo or two."
The creature tilted its head, letting out a soft sound, half chirp, half growl.
He could feel its emotions through the link: curiosity, fear, warmth. Trust.
He lowered it gently onto the sea's surface. The bloody waves rippled beneath its tiny claws, but it did not sink. Nothing living ever did.
The tiger, the centipede, and the lizard all leaned closer, watching as the hatchling took its first unsteady steps. It stumbled once, then again, before finally managing to stand upright.
Vale found himself smiling for real this time. The longer he looked, the more the creature seemed to change, its pale body taking on an ethereal sheen, its eyes glimmering with faint light, its form almost divine.
Then, suddenly, a sharp snap sounded beside him.
The chained man had snapped his fingers right in front of Vale's face.
The boy blinked, startled, his concentration broken. He nearly dropped backward into the sea. "Hey! What was that for?"
"Don't look at it too long," the man said in a low, even tone.
Vale frowned. "Why not?"
"You'll become its slave."
The words sank into Vale's mind like stones sinking through deep water. He turned his gaze back toward the hatchling, its glowing eyes now fixed entirely on him.
"…Become its slave?" Vale repeated quietly. The creature blinked once, slow and deliberate, its emotions pulsing faintly through their link, warmth, curiosity, something that felt almost like affection.
Vale couldn't tell whether the man's warning was one of caution… or envy.
The man spoke once more, his voice resonating faintly beneath the obsidian mask. The sound of it wasn't loud, but it was clear, like a low echo trapped within the hollow of the world.
"It's a survival mechanism," he said at last.
Vale blinked. The words were strange, layered with meaning, but not difficult to grasp given the situation. He glanced down at the small creature that now stood unsteadily upon the crimson sea, its eyes glowing faintly with shifting color.
"I see…" Vale murmured, his tone quiet, almost regretful. "Is it permanent?"
The chained man's gaze never left the creature. "One day," he replied, slowly and deliberately. "It still needs to grow accustomed to you."
"I see," Vale said again, this time more softly. Then, to his own surprise, a faint smile formed on his lips. "So it'll get used to me, huh…"
He leaned back slightly, looking up toward the sky, the five black suns still orbiting sluggishly through the pale expanse. Their faint light painted everything in layers of red and grey. For a brief moment, Vale allowed himself to just breathe, to feel the rare stillness that had settled over the blood-sea.
When he turned back, he realized the chained man hadn't moved. His dark form was still crouched near the hatchling, staring at it. The three older creatures, the tiger, the centipede, and the lizard, had drawn close as well, surrounding the tiny being like guardians.
Vale blinked, a flicker of amusement and confusion crossing his face.
"Uh… not to disturb you," he said cautiously, "but didn't you just warn me not to look at it too long?"
The chained man was silent for a long moment. The air itself seemed to still around him before he finally spoke.
"I know what I'm doing," he said.
Vale raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? And how's that?" he asked, his voice colored with that familiar, unshakable curiosity.
This time, no answer came. The man remained completely still. Only the soft, rhythmic sound of the small creature's breathing broke the silence. The sea rippled faintly beneath them, as if waiting.
Vale opened his mouth to say something, to break the quiet, but before he could, the chained man finally spoke again.
"I've raised this species before."
Vale's eyes widened slightly. Somehow, that didn't surprise him, and yet it did. The chained man always carried an aura of immense experience, as if he had lived through countless worlds and eras. Still, hearing it aloud struck something deeper.
"You've… raised one before?" Vale echoed.
The man nodded slowly. His voice was quieter when he continued, almost distant. "His name was Frost."
As he said it, he extended one gloved hand toward the hatchling. The small creature stiffened for a heartbeat, its tail twitching, the resonance between it and Vale pulsing sharply with wariness. But then, slowly, it relaxed.
The man's finger brushed lightly against its head, petting it with deliberate gentleness. Vale could feel the creature's emotions shift through their link, caution giving way to curiosity, then a calm acceptance.
Vale smiled faintly. "Where is he now?" he asked.
For a while, the only sound was the faint ripple of the sea and the whisper of the black suns above.
Then the man answered.
"He is… guarding me."
The words came out slower this time, heavier. Vale's eyes widened. Guarding him? What could guard someone like the chained man? The thought stirred unease in him.
He looked around instinctively, at the horizonless expanse of blood, the endless sky, the orbiting suns. He thought he knew every creature that lived in this sealed world. The tiger, the lizard, the centipede, they were the only ones he had ever seen.
"Guarding you…" Vale repeated under his breath. His gaze returned to the man, his curiosity now fully lit. "Wait, are you saying there's another one? Another creature like them?"
The man didn't answer. His hand lingered on the hatchling's head for a moment longer before retreating.
Vale hesitated, then tilted his head slightly. "You're… sealed here, right?" he asked carefully. "Are you maybe… sealed in more than one place?"
The chained man froze.
Not just paused, but froze, utterly motionless. Even the sea beneath him seemed to still, as if afraid to disturb the air around his silence.
The soft, living hum of the crimson ocean fell away. The tiger lifted its head. The centipede coiled in closer. Even the hatchling tilted its head up toward the chained man, sensing something shift.
Vale swallowed, suddenly aware that he had said something wrong. "Hey, I didn't mean-"
The man's mask turned slightly, just enough for Vale to feel the weight of that hidden gaze fall upon him. When he finally spoke again, his voice was quiet, but the quiet of it was dangerous.
"Vale."
The boy froze. There was no anger in the voice. Just a tone that didn't belong to anything human.
"Do not," the chained man continued, "ask me that again."
The sea shuddered beneath them, softly, like an exhale from something powerful, buried deep below. Vale didn't respond. He just nodded once, eyes lowered.
For a few moments, neither spoke. The air between them hung heavy, taut with the echo of forbidden knowledge.
Then, as if nothing had happened, the chained man turned his gaze back to the hatchling. His voice softened again, almost thoughtful.
"It'll need a name," he said.
Vale exhaled slowly, relief mixing with lingering unease. "Yeah…" he murmured, watching the small creature as it blinked up at him with curious orange eyes. "A name."