The storm raged over Dragon Mountain, howling winds tearing across the spires and cliffs.
But inside the royal chamber, it was deathly quiet — except for the muffled screams and frantic yelling.
"WHAT DO I DO?! WHAT DO I DO?!"
Dravenith ran around the room like a man on fire, dragging his hair wildly.
"Stay calm!" Ryle barked, though he looked just as pale.
His cloak was thrown over one shoulder, and his right arm glowed faintly purple from leftover dragon energy.
Thea couldn't come — she was taking care of their children back home — so it was just the two of them and one very dramatic Queen.
Sylvaris lay sprawled on a glowing nest of magic crystals, her dark blue hair a tangled mess.
She had fainted moments ago, still gripping Dravenith's hand like a dying warrior.
And in front of them —
A large egg.
Black as the void, but pulsing faintly with a soft golden light.
It was warm, humming with life.
Dravenith stumbled toward Sylvaris, panting.
"She fainted! Is she dead?! SHE'S DEAD, ISN'T SHE?!"
Ryle, being Ryle, calmly walked over —
and slapped Sylvaris across the cheek.
SLAP.
"WAKE UP!" Ryle roared.
Sylvaris gasped, her eyes flying open.
"What the hell, Ryle—?!"
He pointed sharply.
"Look."
Sylvaris turned her head weakly —
and when she saw the black egg sitting peacefully in the crystal nest, a soft, gasping sob escaped her lips.
"Our baby..." she whispered.
Dravenith collapsed beside her, burying his face in her hair.
"We did it," he said, voice breaking with relief. "We really did it."
They moved carefully now.
Dravenith and Sylvaris built a proper nest around the egg — layering soft furs, enchanted silks, and crystals humming with warmth.
Ryle, grumbling the whole time, helped them haul giant heated stones into the chamber to keep the temperature just right.
They took turns guarding the egg.
Dravenith, who was supposed to be kingly and dignified, instead sat cross-legged like a little kid, humming stupid lullabies to the egg.
Sylvaris, who was supposed to be calm and majestic, sometimes poked the egg to "make sure it was still alive."
Ryle, with all his dragon-raised wisdom, simply stared at them both and muttered:
"I'm surrounded by idiots."
But even he couldn't hide the soft smile pulling at his lips.
Days passed.
Weeks.
The egg glowed brighter each night —
The dark shell streaked with faint cracks of golden light.
And finally, one peaceful evening, as the three of them watched under the light of the twin moons —
CRACK.
A thin line split down the middle of the egg.
Sylvaris gasped and grabbed Dravenith's sleeve.
"It's happening!"
They leaned in close.
Tiny claws poked through — soft and silver.
A snout, dark as the night sky, wriggled free.
And with a final, adorable roar that sounded more like a squeaky hiccup —
A baby amphithere tumbled out of the egg.
It was tiny — no bigger than a loaf of bread —
its body covered in shimmering black and gold scales.
It had no legs, only long graceful wings and a snake-like body, curled into a perfect coil.
Its glowing yellow eyes blinked up at the three stunned adults.
"SCREEE!" it cried — a tiny, fierce sound.
Sylvaris burst into tears immediately, clutching her chest.
"IT'S SO CUTE I'M GOING TO DIE," she wailed.
Dravenith scooped up the tiny amphithere into his arms, cradling it against his chest.
"You're perfect," he whispered.
Ryle leaned over his shoulder, smirking.
"Looks like it inherited your attitude," he said dryly.
The baby amphithere tried to bite Ryle's finger, earning a chuckle.
Sylvaris wiped her eyes, her smile shining brighter than any star.
Dravenith turned to her, holding their child gently.
"Name?" he asked softly.
Sylvaris blinked, startled.
Then, after a moment, she grinned.
"Auris."
Dravenith's heart swelled.
Golden Light.
A name for the hope they had fought so hard to create.
Outside, the skies cleared, revealing a thousand shining stars over Dragon Mountain.
Inside the throne room, under the watchful eyes of their ancestors, a new future was born.
A future of laughter, of flying high, of peace among the mountains.
A future born from love.
The little amphithere, Auris, wiggled in Dravenith's arms, let out another adorable roar —
and the whole mountain seemed to echo it back in joy.
The True End.