The carriage rattled softly along the mountain road, its wheels cushioned by thick dragonhide treads. Sorin leaned forward, his face nearly pressed to the window as Pluterra Academy came into view—an ancient fortress carved into the side of the mountain itself, glittering faintly in the midday sun.
Dragon shapes circled in the air like slow-moving stars, and the nearer they got, the more Sorin noticed the subtle changes in the city. Sidewalks were wide. Lampposts curved around overhead flight paths. Doorways were tall enough to fit a creature the size of a small wagon.
Ava sat across from him, swinging her legs, her uniform crisp and clean. She was nervous—Sorin could tell, but she masked it with cheerful commentary about how the academy had its own gemstone library and how the upper floors smelled like mint from the Mist Quartz gardens.
The main gates of Pluterra opened not with guards, but with glowing runes. The carriage passed under a tall archway into a vast courtyard lined with statues—each one depicting a child and a dragon at their side, both about the same age Sorin was now.
He swallowed hard. Ten. I'm ten. Everyone gets one now. Everyone but me—until today.
A white-robed attendant greeted them and guided them through registration. After scrolls were signed and uniforms fitted, they were led into a great circular chamber far below the main school halls. The Choosing Chamber.
The air buzzed. Hundreds of smooth eggs, each nestled in beds of crushed gemstones, pulsed faintly with inner light.
Other students wandered the chamber, eyes wide, some already crouched beside their eggs, hands resting on their chosen dragon's shell. Sorin spotted a pale girl in the center—her posture rigid and regal. She placed a hand on a glassy white egg that shimmered like starlight. The egg flared with light as it responded to her.
"That's Jenny," Ava whispered beside him. "The princess. That's the Diamond Line."
Jenny glanced their way, her expression unreadable.
Near her stood two more girls—one with spring-green braids and a sharp look to her (Bailey), and one with darker curls and warm brown skin, who laughed at something Jenny said (Mercy). Both had already found their eggs—peridot and garnet, pulsing side by side.
"Don't stare," Ava whispered. "They hate that."
Then Sorin saw her. A girl with a sharp face and dark auburn hair who looked almost… familiar. Tarin was her name, according to Ava. Her egg was black with streaks of gold, shaped differently than the others—narrower, like a flame trapped in stone.
She turned and caught Sorin watching. Her eyes narrowed. She whispered something to the girl beside her, and they both laughed.
Sorin looked away quickly and wandered off, trying not to draw more attention. He passed eggs in all shapes and hues—spotted, glowing, swirling with mist. None responded. Not until he reached the far edge of the chamber, half-hidden behind a broken column.
It was ugly. Charcoal gray, streaked with dull red veins that looked like dried blood. Not polished like the others. Not even properly displayed.
Still, Sorin felt something hum inside his chest. The air thickened, charged like a coming storm. He reached out and rested his hand on the stone.
A shiver raced up his spine.
Nothing happened.
Then—crack.
A hairline fracture opened across the egg's surface. Red light pulsed once from within. The veins glowed. The egg gave a low, guttural thrum and split open.
The creature that emerged wasn't polished or radiant. It looked like a dragon made of granite, rough-skinned, heavy-limbed, with dull red eyes and jagged horn ridges. Small, but sturdy. Solid.
Murmurs rose around the chamber. No one recognized the type. Even Ava looked uncertain.
But the little dragon locked eyes with Sorin and let out a sharp, grinding chirp—almost like a challenge.
He grinned. "Hello there."
From across the room, Tarin stared. Her face was unreadable—but her fingers tightened around her cloak.