As soon as Jordan entered the egg, the sky overhead darkened.
Storm clouds gathered above the dragon castle, swirling with unnatural speed. They weren't normal clouds—they sparked with colors that shouldn't exist, crackling with energy that made the air taste like copper and stardust.
Inside the egg, Jordan felt nothing of the storm. But he felt something else.
A crack appeared on the cosmic shell. Small at first, like a hairline fracture across a galaxy. Then another. And another. The cracks spread like lightning, each one revealing blinding light beneath.
Outside, every dragon turned toward the castle. Millions of heads, all sizes and colors, swiveled in perfect synchronization. Even those mid-flight stopped, hovering in place. The fighters ceased their battles. The sleeping awakened.
They knew what this meant.
The clouds above began to spiral downward, forming a funnel that reached toward the castle's highest spire. Something was descending. Something ancient.
Inside the egg, Jordan felt his new body stirring. Power coursed through him—not like human adrenaline, but something deeper. Something that rewrote the very concept of what he was. He could feel wings. Claws. Scales. A tail.
He was being born. Truly born.
Light seeped through the cracks. He needed out. Now.
Jordan kicked. His new limbs responded perfectly, more natural than his human body ever had. The shell gave way, chunks of crystallized universe falling away. He kicked again, harder. A hole appeared, large enough for him to push through.
He stepped out.
The moment his claws touched the runic circle, the storm responded. Wisps of energy descended from the clouds, seeping through the castle walls like ghosts. The energy searched, probed, until it found him.
When it entered him, Jordan understood.
He threw back his head and roared. The sound that emerged wasn't just noise—it was declaration. The castle walls shook. The runic circle beneath him flared to life.
"NULL AZRYTHOS KAELTHUUN!"
The words tore from his throat without thought. His true name. Not Jordan anymore. Not fully.
Null. The Void.
Azrythos. The Eternal.
Kaelthuun. The Song-Bearer.
He could barely contain his excitement. A dragon. A real, actual dragon. With a name that sounded like it could end worlds.
The door opened.
A woman stepped through. No—not just a woman. She moved with inhuman grace, each step deliberate and perfect. Long black hair flowed down to the small of her back, contrasting sharply with her pristine maid uniform. Her eyes were gold with vertical pupils.
Their eyes locked.
"Follow me, Prince Null," she said, her voice carrying an odd mix of respect and authority.
Did she just call me a prince?
His draconic face stretched into what probably looked like a terrifying grin. The maid's expression shifted to confusion, maybe concern. Null forced himself to calm down, tucking his wings against his body.
He followed her out of the birthing chamber.
The hallway that greeted him defied logic. It stretched impossibly far, the end lost in distant shadow. But it wasn't just long—it was massive. Pillars the size of skyscrapers lined both sides, carved from single pieces of obsidian. The ceiling disappeared into darkness above. This wasn't built for human-sized beings.
This was built for dragons. Real dragons. Ancient ones.
Null found himself watching the maid as they walked. She was, without question, the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. The way her hips swayed with each step was hypnotic.
Focus. You're a dragon now. Act like one.
They walked for what felt like hours but was probably minutes. Distance meant something different here.
Finally, they reached a set of doors that made everything else look small. They had to be a hundred feet tall, carved from what looked like crystallized starlight.
"Go inside," the maid said, her voice perfectly calm. "They are waiting for you."
The doors opened before he could respond.
The throne room beyond was… Null didn't have words.
The space was vast enough to hold a small city. The floor was polished black marble that reflected the cosmos above—because there was no ceiling, just open sky despite being inside the castle. Twelve massive forms lined the room, six on each side.
Elder dragons. Each one radiated power that made the air thick.
But Null's attention went straight to the two thrones at the far end.
One sat empty—black obsidian shot through with veins of silver.
On the other sat a figure that wasn't in dragon form, but was undeniably draconic. Two golden horns curved from her head. Her hair wasn't just golden—it moved like living fire, flowing and flickering with its own light. Her skin seemed to glow from within, and her eyes held the depth of suns.
That must be my mother. Which means…
The empty throne was his.
Null walked forward, trying to project confidence he didn't feel. Every step echoed in the vast space. The elder dragons watched him pass, their ancient eyes evaluating.
When he reached the thrones, he looked around. No one moved to stop him.
He climbed onto the empty throne, his new body naturally curling into a regal position. His tail wrapped around the base, wings folded perfectly.
The moment he settled, every dragon in the room except the queen stood and bowed their heads.
"We greet the Queen and the Prince!" they said in perfect unison, their voices shaking the very air.
The queen turned to him, and her voice was as warm as summer sunshine. "Welcome my son."
Then, her tone shifted to something more commanding as she addressed the room.
"Introduce yourselves. Starting with you." She pointed to the largest of the fire dragons.
The dragon stepped forward. His scales were deep crimson, and heat shimmer rose from his body. "I greet the Prince. I am Igniscor, Elder of Flame."
A white dragon, covered in frost, followed. "Prince Null. I am Cryos, Elder of Frost." Her breath created ice crystals in the air.
A green dragon stepped forward next, and the air immediately became toxic. Null's new instincts screamed danger as drops of venom hissed against the marble floor. "Noxius, Elder of Poison. Your presence honors us, Prince."
The introductions continued, each elder dragon commanding attention in their own way.
Tempestus, the Wind Elder, never quite touched the ground, his silver-grey form constantly shifting as if made of storms themselves. When he spoke, his voice carried the echo of hurricanes.
Tenebris simply emerged from his own shadow, his black scales so dark they seemed to pull light from the room. "Shadow remembers all, young prince," he said cryptically before melting back into darkness.
The next introduction came with a crack of thunder. Fulguris didn't walk forward—he appeared in a bolt of lightning, blue-white scales crackling with electricity that jumped between his horns. The display of power was intentional, testing.
Geodeus was different. When the Earth Elder moved, the entire castle trembled. Built like a mountain given life, his brown scales looked more like bedrock than anything organic. He didn't bow—mountains don't bow—but he acknowledged Null with ancient eyes.
Where Geodeus was solid, Abyssius flowed. The Water Elder's blue-green scales rippled like ocean waves, and when she moved, it was as if the sea itself had taken dragon form.
Luminor nearly blinded him. The Light Elder's pure white scales reflected and amplified every photon in the room. Looking at him directly was like staring into a sun, and Null had to squint even with his new dragon eyes.
Chalybs rang like a bell when he moved, his metallic scales singing a song of steel and iron. The Metal Elder's wings looked sharp enough to cut reality itself.
The Time Elder, Chronos, was unsettling to observe. His scales seemed to age and renew in waves—ancient one moment, newly formed the next. When he spoke, his voice carried echoes of words he hadn't said yet. "Prince Null, it is a honor"
The last elder stepped forward, and Null felt something deep within him resonate.
Draconis, Elder of Void, moved like living space. His purple-black scales showed glimpses of galaxies within their depths, and looking at him was like peering through windows into other realities
"Welcome, young prince," Draconis said, his voice carrying the weight of emptiness itself.
Null absorbed it all. The power. The ceremony. The respect.
He was a prince. A Primordial Dragon prince, apparently. In a world of magic and impossibility.
As the introductions concluded and the elders returned to their positions, Null settled deeper into his throne. The queen beside him radiated warmth and power. The elders stood like living legends. The castle around them hummed with ancient magic.
Let's hope this life is better than the last, he thought, remembering a dirty gas station floor and the taste of blood.