'I better get a damn dragon out of this.'
The egg sat in Noel's lap like an ordinary object. No glowing symbols. No ancient runes. No mystical hum. Just a smooth shell, deep blue in color, threaded with lighter veins that seemed to pulse faintly under the light. Cold to the touch. Heavier than it looked.
It didn't feel like a blessing.
Noel turned it slowly with his good hand, watching the surface shimmer slightly as it caught the light from the nearby window. His other arm was still tightly bandaged and aching with every movement. Breathing wasn't exactly comfortable either—his ribs complained with every inhale. But he was alive.
Barely.
His thoughts were interrupted by the soft creak of a door opening.
"Looks like you're awake."
Noel turned his head slightly. The director, Nicolas Von Aldros, stepped into the room, tall and imposing even in a simple black coat. Elena followed just behind him, her expression a mixture of relief and worry.
