Dame Elara Brightshield's Arc

Chapter 3 of 11

They gathered at dawn in the clearing where scorched trees still smoldered. Artur knelt beside a shallow pool of water, the blue egg resting in its center on a bed of moss and carved stones. The temple fruit lay beside it, already cut open, its golden pulp gleaming in the early light. Elara watched Artur work, his hands moving through patterns she didn't understand, speaking words that made the air hum. The egg began to crack. But when the first shard fell away, the drake inside didn't move. It lay curled and still, its scales dull blue instead of bright. Artur's face went tight. "The binding needs completion," he said. "It needs to feed. Now." Elara's chest went cold. They hadn't prepared anything. She'd thought the ceremony would end when the shell broke, that the hard part was already finished. She'd been wrong. Skarsh was already running toward the treehouse. Elara followed, her boots slipping on wet ground, her sword bouncing against her hip. By the time she reached him, he'd gathered fish from his stores and fruit from the sanctuary, his hands moving fast and certain. He didn't ask what to do. He knew. They ran back together, Skarsh cradling the pile of silver fish and blue fruit like it was the egg itself. When they reached the pool, the drake's breathing had gone shallow. Skarsh knelt and held out the first fish. The drake's eyes opened, huge and dark. It took the offering in small, careful bites. The drake ate until the pile was gone, its scales brightening with each mouthful until they shone like water under sunlight. Artur stood and stepped back, the binding complete. Elara looked at Skarsh, saw him watching the drake with something she recognized — not fear, not doubt, but responsibility. He'd shown up when it mattered most. He'd done what needed doing without being told. That was the partner she needed. That was the world she was building, one choice at a time.