Vanys had grown.
The rock-egg, which until the night before had barely been the size of a two-year-old child, had suddenly turned into a living wall of stone and heat. So large that Seirion had to move it into an empty chamber, for it no longer fit in the bed nor in the makeshift basket where it had rested until then.
Erian ran his hands over the rough surface. The texture was the same as always, coarse and hard, but the heat radiating from it startled him. Before, it had been a gentle comfort on cold nights, but now it was intense, almost stifling.
"Will it hatch soon?" he asked, stroking the rock with trembling fingers.
"Yes," Seirion answered, standing beside him. Yet his voice carried a hint of doubt.
Erian tilted his face toward him, catching the tension in his tone.
"What is it?"
There was a brief silence. Seirion leaned closer and, as though afraid of hurting him, guided his hand to the hottest point of the rock.
