The siblings were confused.
It felt like a dream — surreal, distant, unreal.
But it wasn't.
Dreams didn't ache.
Dreams didn't make their skulls feel like they were splitting open from the inside.
All four of them collapsed where they had hatched, tiny bodies trembling as something new flooded their minds.
Memories.
Not their own.
Images of soaring through endless skies. Instinctual knowledge of hunting. Of magic. Of flame. Of ancient words that shaped the world itself.
It lasted only a minute.
But it felt like drowning in fire.
When it finally stopped, they lay there panting — small chests rising and falling rapidly.
We… didn't learn that, Blake thought slowly.
No.
Not Blake.
The name felt distant now. Human. Fragile.
Another name rose within him with quiet certainty.
Zephyr.
Freya inhaled sharply as her own truth settled.
Onyxia.
Everly blinked, golden eyes sharpening with fierce clarity.
Valkyre.
Lilith curled her tail instinctively around herself as the softest of the new names echoed in her mind.
Saphira.
The knowledge wasn't just names.
It was history.
They were in a world called Salderaia — a land where magic flowed through the air like invisible rivers. There was no technology here. No hospitals. No machines humming in sterile rooms.
Magic shaped everything.
Humans lived in this world.
But they were not alone.
Elves walked ancient forests.
Dwarves carved cities into mountains.
Beastfolk roamed wild plains and deep jungles.
Other humanoid races thrived — some peaceful, some monstrous.
And above them all…
Dragons.
Dragons were the most powerful beings in Salderaia.
They lived for thousands of years.
They wielded unimaginable magic.
Their roars could split mountains. Their flames could reduce kingdoms to ash.
But dragons were not plentiful.
Their fertility was low. Most eggs never hatched.
Entire clutches were lost to silence.
And the knowledge that settled heaviest in their minds—
They were the first hatchlings born in centuries.
The cavern around them slowly came into focus as their enhanced senses adjusted.
It was enormous.
Not simply large — but cathedral vast. The ceiling arched so high above that it vanished into shadow, jagged stone curving like the ribs of some ancient titan. Veins of luminous crystal threaded through the dark rock, casting prismatic light across the chamber in fractured rainbows.
They were not lying on bare stone.
They were in a nest.
A massive one.
The foundation beneath them shimmered — interwoven crystal formations shaped into a cradle large enough to hold dragons far larger than they currently were. Embedded within the crystal were enormous scales, each one the size of a shield.
There were two kinds.
Some were black as midnight, edged in a faint, smoldering red light that pulsed like banked embers beneath the surface.
Others were pure white, luminous and edged in soft silver that gleamed like moonlight on snow.
King Nocturne.
Queen Anthea.
Even without seeing them, the hatchlings knew which scales belonged to whom.
The black-and-crimson scales radiated steady heat — controlled, dominant, powerful.
The white-and-silver scales felt cooler but no less potent, humming with refined, ancient magic.
The two types were layered carefully throughout the nest, interwoven rather than separated — strength and grace combined into a single protective cradle.
Layered atop the crystalline base was thick, impossibly soft fur from some colossal beast. It cushioned their tiny bodies and trapped warmth, forming a cocoon of safety.
The nest itself pulsed faintly with magic.
Beyond it, the cavern floor rose in glittering mounds.
Gold.
Mountains of it.
Coins, goblets, ancient crowns, shattered swords inlaid with gemstones. Rivers of rubies and sapphires spilled between the hills of treasure, scattering light in blinding brilliance. Emeralds glowed like captured forests. Diamonds flashed like frozen stars.
The entire chamber shimmered with wealth beyond imagination.
The air was warm — not stifling, but comforting, like sunlight baked into stone. It carried the scent of minerals and something deeper.
Power.
They were alone.
No towering dragon forms stood guard. No massive wings shielded the cavern entrance.
But the inherited memories stirred reassuringly within them.
Their nest was unreachable by anything that was not dragon.
They were high above the world — at the summit of the tallest mountain in Salderaia. Higher than clouds. Higher than storms.
A powerful magical barrier wrapped the peak, woven from ancient dragon magic. It concealed the summit from sight. Repelled intruders. Destroyed those foolish enough to push further.
And beyond even that—
They were in the very heart of dragon territory.
Any creature that somehow survived the climb would still have to pass through lands ruled by beings older and more powerful than kingdoms.
For now…
They were safe.
Which made the reality of their small bodies even more jarring.
Zephyr pushed himself upright on unsteady limbs and looked down at himself properly.
He was tiny.
Each of them weighed barely ten pounds — no larger than a well-fed three-month-old puppy. Their wings were thin and delicate, stretched like silk between fragile bones. Light passed faintly through the membranes when they moved.
Their scales were flawless — glossy, beautiful, already harder than diamond.
But in this world, diamond meant little.
Powerful beasts. Ancient monsters. High-ranking mages.
There were many things in Salderaia capable of tearing into them effortlessly.
Their claws clicked against crystal as they tested them.
Sharp.
But small.
Their teeth were no more threatening than a kitten's.
For all their future potential—
Right now, they were hatchlings.
Onyxia lifted her head slowly, her mind already calculating.
So we're powerful, she said dryly through their link.
Just… not yet.
Valkyre's tail flicked in irritation.
Centuries without hatchlings and we're born defenseless? That's cruel.
Saphira folded her delicate wings close to her body, golden eyes steady despite her gentler nature.
We survived worse.
The thought silenced them.
Hospitals.
Needles.
Weak lungs.
Bullying.
Fifteen years in bodies that betrayed them daily.
This?
This was strength compared to that.
Zephyr straightened as much as his small frame allowed.
Then we survive again, he said firmly.
We grow.
We learn.
We become what this world fears.
The cavern hummed faintly — as if magic itself acknowledged their vow.
Four hatchlings stood in a summit nest of crystal and royal scales in the ancient world of Salderaia.
Small.
Fragile.
Royal.
And carrying human memories no dragon had ever known.
This world had waited centuries for their birth.
It had no idea what it had just received.