Anthea flew like a streak of silver across the sky.
Wind tore past her horns. Clouds split in her wake. The summit of the tallest mountain in Salderaia loomed ahead — but not fast enough.
Something was wrong.
Or right.
Her instincts screamed beneath her scales, a restless itch that refused to quiet. It had started as a whisper hours ago. Now it burned like wildfire through her blood.
Go back.
Now.
Her wings beat harder.
Behind her, a massive shadow followed.
Nocturne.
His black scales absorbed the sunlight as he flew, red edging along his wings glowing faintly like contained flame.
He did not share her urgency.
"Anthea, darling," he called, voice deep and resonant even over the rushing wind, "why must you do this every time?"
She didn't slow.
"I know you want hatchlings," he continued, "but the eggs are not viable. It has been thirteen months. If they haven't hatched by now, they won't."
Dragons carried their eggs for three months before laying them. After that, the eggs incubated for nine.
Twelve months.
Anything beyond that was considered lost.
These eggs had passed that mark.
"You're so negative, Nox," Anthea snapped back, silver light flashing along her scales as she climbed higher. "I have a good feeling about this clutch. I just know they will hatch."
"You said that about the last fifteen clutches," Nocturne replied, though his tone lacked cruelty — only weary realism. "Not one egg hatched. I think you may have to accept that Kaida will remain our only child."
Princess Kaida.
Their miracle.
The only egg to hatch in her clutch of seven.
She was already over three centuries old — strong, wise, and powerful in her own right.
And despite fifteen additional clutches laid over centuries…
No other child had ever drawn breath.
Anthea huffed, a plume of silver-tinged vapor escaping her nostrils.
"I refuse to give up on them."
Her wings beat harder still.
The mountain peak pierced the sky ahead, hidden beneath ancient concealment magic. The barrier shimmered faintly as she approached, recognizing her and parting without resistance.
The moment she crossed into the protected airspace—
She froze.
Mid-flight.
Her massive wings faltered.
Her pupils narrowed.
Within the nest at the summit, she detected life signatures.
Four of them.
Small.
Warm.
Breathing.
For one horrifying second, her heart seized.
Intruders?
Had something breached the barrier?
Impossible—
Then the truth hit her.
The signatures were coming from the nest itself.
Her eggs.
Her children.
A sound tore from her throat — sharp, piercing, filled with something she had not felt in centuries.
Joy.
"They've hatched!" Anthea screeched, the cry echoing across the mountain peaks.
Behind her, Nocturne faltered mid-wingbeat.
"What?"
He surged forward, senses extending.
He felt them too.
Four distinct pulses of dragon life.
Small.
Fragile.
Real.
Shock cracked through his composure, red light flaring brighter along his scales.
Without another word, both dragons accelerated.
The sky seemed too slow. The distance too far.
They flew at full speed, massive wings carving through air as they raced toward the summit nest.
For the first time in centuries—
Hope burned brighter than fear.
Their hatchlings were alive.