The ravine had gone silent.
Even the wind refused to howl.
Wang Lin stood motionless on the edge of the jagged drop, one hand resting near the inner lining of his robe where the wrapped egg now pulsed with a quiet, irregular rhythm.
Whatever it was doing inside… it had started to change. And not just the egg.
The sky had dimmed unnaturally. The mist that once clung to the cliffs began to move — not drift, not settle, but shift as if watching him back.
"Long Shan."
"Yes. I feel it too."
"Something's coming."
"No… it's already here."
From the far end of the ravine, a long shadow emerged — not a beast, not a bird, but something between both. Four legs. A hunched back. Wings tucked tightly to its sides like broken cloth.
Its eyes glowed faint orange.
And it didn't roar.
It simply stared.
Then, slowly, it opened its mouth — not to bite, but to speak.
"You carry it," the creature rasped.
Wang Lin didn't move. "What is 'it'?"
The creature took a slow step forward, claws dragging across the stone. "The heart of ruin. The scale of the first."
"Long Shan—"
"I still can't identify it. But this beast knows."
Wang Lin's hand didn't go for a weapon.
Instead, he pulled the egg from its wrap, just slightly — exposing only part of the shell.
The reaction was immediate.
The creature backed away.
Not out of fear.
Out of reverence.
It dropped its head low, almost to the ground.
"You must protect it," it rasped. "Or nothing you hate will survive."
Wang Lin narrowed his eyes. "What does that mean?"
But the creature didn't answer.
It turned.
And leapt into the mist.
Gone.
Leaving nothing behind except claw prints in stone and the echo of prophecy.
That night, Wang Lin returned to the pavilion in silence.
He didn't meditate.
He didn't train.
He simply sat before the egg, watching it. Feeling it.
And wondering what he had brought back with him.
"Long Shan."
"Still can't see inside."
"Then maybe it's not for you to see."
"Maybe it's for you to raise."
Wang Lin didn't answer.
He just placed one hand gently on the shell.
It was warm now.
Almost… human.