Chapter Six
3685 Words
“You do not find the egg. The egg finds the trust in you—and decides if you deserve to carry it.”
— Archon Ilaryn, Warden of the Hatchery
The pull returned.
Skye stopped beneath the ancient trees.
For several breaths, she did nothing but feel it.
The invisible thread she'd first noticed near the golden spring had tightened around something deeper than her heart. It wasn't painful.
It was insistent.
Certain.
This way.
Skye turned.
The forest had changed again.
The suffocating darkness that had surrounded her moments before was gone. No unseen voice whispered from behind the trees. No shadow wearing Ashen's pendant waited to lure her away from the path.
Only mist remained.
And somewhere beyond it—
Her dragon.
Skye closed her eyes.
She remembered falling.
Remembered the darkness swallowing her.
Remembered the roar that had torn through the Crucible with a single unmistakable command.
Run.
She had.
Not from a creature.
From the thing wearing Ashen's shape.
She still didn't know what it had been.
A trick of the Crucible?
A warning?
Something pulled from her own memories?
She had too many questions and no answers.
But she understood one thing now.
Whatever was waiting for her did not want her dead.
Skye placed a hand over her heart.
“I'm listening.”
The pull strengthened.
She followed.
The trees grew older as she traveled.
Massive roots broke through the earth, some taller than her knees. Moss coated everything, glowing faintly beneath her boots whenever she stepped across it.
The Crucible no longer felt hostile.
It felt watchful.
Judging.
Skye wasn't sure that was better.
She pushed through a curtain of hanging vines.
The path narrowed.
Then the forest opened.
Skye stopped.
A glade waited beyond the trees.
Ancient stones surrounded it, each standing twice her height. Weather and time had worn away whatever symbols once covered them, leaving only faint scars across their surfaces.
They reminded Skye of sentinels.
Silent guardians protecting something sacred.
And in the center of them—
Her breath caught.
A pedestal.
It was simple.
Weathered stone cracked by age and almost entirely consumed by vines.
But Skye barely noticed the pedestal.
She noticed what rested upon it.
An egg.
For several seconds, she forgot how to breathe.
It wasn't enormous.
Perhaps slightly larger than her head.
Its shell appeared almost translucent, as though made from layers of crystal instead of scale. Golden light moved beneath the surface in slow, shifting patterns.
Not randomly.
Rhythmically.
Thump.
Skye's heart answered.
Thump.
The egg pulsed again.
Her eyes burned unexpectedly.
“You.”
The word barely escaped her.
The pull beneath her ribs vanished.
Not because the connection had broken.
Because there was no distance left between them.
Skye stepped into the clearing.
The egg brightened.
One step.
Then another.
Golden patterns shifted beneath its shell.
She remembered the voice.
You are seen.
Skye smiled.
“I found you.”
“Don't.”
The voice cut through the glade like a blade.
Skye spun.
A figure emerged from the mist.
Not Ashen.
This man was taller and broader, perhaps a year or two older than Skye. Dark brown hair fell messily across his forehead, and his clothing looked as though he'd assembled armor from whatever the Crucible had given him.
Leather.
Wood.
Pieces of bone.
A metal plate strapped crookedly over one shoulder.
Blood streaked one side of his face.
His eyes went immediately to the egg.
“The egg isn't yours.”
Skye shifted slightly, placing herself between him and the pedestal.
“I was led here.”
“So was I.”
That made her pause.
The stranger's jaw tightened.
“It called to me.”
Skye glanced toward the egg.
The golden light continued pulsing.
“I think you're wrong.”
His hand moved toward the short sword at his hip.
Skye noticed immediately.
Her body tensed.
“The Crucible doesn't hand out gifts,” he said.
“I didn't say it did.”
“You think because you're a princess, you can walk in here and take whatever you want?”
Skye's expression hardened.
Of course.
Even here.
Even in the middle of some impossible magical trial, she couldn't escape her name.
“My title has nothing to do with this.”
“Doesn't it?”
“No.”
His fingers wrapped around the sword.
Skye's gaze dropped to his hand.
“Don't.”
He drew the blade.
Skye exhaled.
Apparently diplomacy was over.
“I don't want to fight you.”
“I do.”
He lunged.
Skye threw herself sideways.
The sword cut through the space she'd occupied a heartbeat earlier.
She rolled across the moss and scrambled behind one of the ancient stones.
Steel struck rock.
Sparks scattered.
Skye moved.
Fast.
The stranger swung again.
She ducked.
The blade passed over her head.
“You don't deserve it!” he shouted.
Skye backed away.
“You don't even know me!”
“I know what dragons want.”
He attacked again.
“Power.”
Skye twisted aside.
“Strength.”
Another strike.
“Someone who can survive.”
His sword came down.
Skye raised both hands.
Golden light erupted between them.
The blade struck a wall of Light.
The impact rang through the clearing.
The stranger staggered backward.
Skye stared through the glowing barrier.
“Then why hasn't it chosen you?”
His expression changed.
Anger became desperation.
There it was.
Not hatred.
Fear.
He wasn't fighting her because he believed the egg belonged to him.
He was fighting because he was terrified no egg would.
Skye understood that fear.
She'd carried it into Scaleborn herself.
He roared and charged again.
Skye dropped the barrier.
He wasn't expecting it.
She pivoted.
Caught his arm.
Used his momentum against him.
Her leg swept behind his knees.
The initiate crashed onto his back.
His sword flew from his hand and disappeared into the ferns.
Skye immediately stepped over him.
Golden light gathered around her fingers.
He froze.
She could end the fight.
One concentrated blast.
Enough to render him unconscious.
Maybe worse.
The Light brightened.
The initiate flinched.
Waiting.
Then the voice returned.
Soft.
Childlike.
Inside Skye's mind.
Let him live.
Skye's breath caught.
Her dragon.
The Light faded.
She lowered her hand.
The initiate slowly opened his eyes.
Confusion replaced fear.
Skye stepped back.
“This isn't a test of power.”
He stared at her.
“You could've finished it.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you?”
Skye looked toward the egg.
Golden light moved peacefully beneath its shell.
“Because I don't think that's what it wanted.”
The man's expression hardened.
“Mercy is weakness.”
“No.”
Skye extended her hand.
“Mercy is having the power to hurt someone and choosing not to.”
He looked at her hand.
Then at her.
For several seconds, Skye thought he might slap it away.
Instead, his fingers closed around hers.
She pulled him upright.
“Skye,” she said.
His eyebrow lifted.
“I know.”
“Right.”
Princess problems.
She sighed.
Then her expression sharpened.
“But if you ever try taking my egg again, I will kill you.”
He stared.
A laugh escaped him.
“Tovan.”
Skye smiled.
“I don't doubt it.”
Thump.
Both turned.
The egg glowed.
Brighter.
Golden light poured through the translucent shell until the entire clearing was washed in warmth.
Tovan stepped backward.
“What is it doing?”
Skye didn't answer.
The egg lifted from the pedestal.
Her mouth fell open.
It hovered several inches above the stone.
Vines stirred beneath it.
A warm breeze moved through the glade.
Then the egg drifted toward her.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Skye forgot Tovan was there.
Forgot the Crucible.
Forgot Scaleborn.
She raised her hands.
The egg settled into her palms.
Warmth surged through her.
Skye gasped.
The world disappeared.
For a heartbeat, she saw something.
Wings.
Golden light.
A sky filled with stars.
And two enormous eyes opening somewhere beyond them.
Then the vision vanished.
Skye stood in the clearing again.
The egg rested against her chest.
Its heartbeat matched hers.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Tovan stared.
“I've never seen…”
His voice died.
Skye couldn't speak either.
The egg had chosen her.
Not Princess Skye Vealwyn.
Not King Thalion's daughter.
Not the girl who had spent years trying to become whatever everyone around her needed.
Her.
The mist surrounding the glade began to lift.
Tovan looked toward the opening path.
“I think that's your way out.”
Skye finally tore her gaze from the egg.
“What about you?”
He looked toward the forest.
“My Crucible isn't finished.”
For the first time, she saw no hostility in his expression.
Only determination.
Skye nodded.
“Good luck, Tovan.”
His mouth twitched.
“You too, Princess.”
Skye rolled her eyes.
Then she followed the path.
The Crucible released her at dawn.
One moment Skye walked through ancient woods.
The next, her boot landed on stone.
She stopped.
Scaleborn stretched before her.
The academy had never looked so beautiful.
Towers glowed beneath the first rays of morning. Waterfalls poured from the floating cliffs and vanished into clouds below. Dragons circled lazily overhead, their wings flashing in the rising sun.
Skye stood on a ridge overlooking the academy grounds.
Her egg remained cradled against her chest.
Warm.
Alive.
Real.
Below, students crowded the bridges and courtyards.
Some were returning from their own trials.
Others waited.
Watching.
Skye began descending.
The moment her boots touched the bridge leading toward the central courtyard—
BOOOONG.
A bell rang.
Deep.
Ancient.
The sound rolled through Scaleborn.
Dragons cried overhead.
Students turned.
Skye froze.
Another student pointed.
“A claimed egg!”
Every head turned toward her.
“Oh, gods.”
So much for a quiet entrance.
She kept walking.
Whispers spread faster than she could.
Then someone broke from the crowd.
White hair.
Blue tips.
“SKYE!”
Keala sprinted across the courtyard.
Skye instinctively tightened her hold on the egg.
“Careful!”
Keala skidded to a stop.
Her eyes were enormous.
She looked from Skye to the glowing egg.
Then back again.
“You did it.”
Skye looked down.
The shell pulsed softly.
A smile spread across her face.
“I did.”
Keala made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a squeal.
“I knew it!”
“You've known me for less than a day.”
“Doesn't matter.”
Keala leaned toward the egg.
“Oh, she's beautiful.”
Skye blinked.
“She?”
Keala shrugged.
“Feels like a she.”
“You can tell that?”
“No.”
Skye stared at her.
Keala grinned.
Before Skye could respond, movement across the courtyard caught her attention.
Black.
Her smile disappeared.
Ashen emerged from the opposite bridge.
His cloak was torn.
Fresh dirt covered his clothing.
Blood streaked one sleeve.
Not enough to tell Skye whether it belonged to him or something else.
But that wasn't what stopped her.
Something rested beneath his arm.
An egg.
Skye's breath caught.
Ashen noticed her.
Their eyes met.
For one heartbeat, neither moved.
Then Skye looked down.
His egg was unlike hers.
No brilliant color.
No warm glow.
Its shell was black.
Not simply dark.
Black in a way that seemed to consume the light touching it. Faint gray veins moved beneath the surface like smoke trapped under glass.
Skye's skin prickled.
The egg didn't pulse.
It—
Skye frowned.
Breathed.
The shell seemed to expand almost imperceptibly before settling again.
Students nearby whispered.
“Shadow.”
“Has to be.”
“Umbra.”
Skye barely heard them.
Because she'd seen Ashen carrying an egg before.
At the River of Tears.
The morning she'd met him.
Something dark had been hidden beneath his cloak.
Silver veins.
Almost liquid.
At the time, she'd assumed it was an egg.
But this—
This wasn't the same.
She was certain.
The shape was different.
The markings were different.
Even the darkness felt different.
Which meant Ashen had arrived near Scaleborn already carrying something he'd deliberately hidden from her.
And whatever it had been—
It wasn't the egg in his arms now.
Ashen watched the realization spread across her face.
His expression didn't change.
No smirk.
No joke.
No teasing Red.
Only warning.
Skye held his gaze.
I'm going to ask you about that.
Something in his eyes seemed to answer.
I know.
Students crowded between them.
Skye lost sight of him.
“Skye?”
Keala's voice returned.
Skye blinked.
“What?”
“You disappeared somewhere.”
“I'm fine.”
Keala followed her gaze.
Ashen had vanished into the crowd.
“You sure?”
“No.”
Keala opened her mouth.
A staff struck stone.
CRACK.
The courtyard fell silent.
At the top of the broad stairs stood a woman Skye recognized from the Mess Hall.
Silver hair.
Ceremonial robes.
The woman who had whispered while the dragon bones glowed.
Headmistress Caelin Raithe.
Skye knew the name.
Everyone did.
Caelin stood tall and severe, ash-white hair braided tightly down her spine. Black robes covered her body, threaded with runes that shimmered faintly whenever she moved.
A silver circlet rested across her brow.
At its center sat something dull and ancient.
Not crystal.
Not gemstone.
A dragon scale.
Burned smooth by time.
Her eyes were nearly colorless.
Pale smoke.
The kind of eyes that seemed capable of finding lies before someone spoke them.
A silver staff rested in her hand.
Skye immediately understood why the courtyard had gone silent.
Caelin Raithe didn't demand attention.
She possessed it.
Her staff struck the stone again.
“Initiate Skye Vealwyn.”
Whispers erupted.
Skye swallowed.
Keala nudged her.
“Go.”
Skye moved.
Each step toward the headmistress felt heavier than the last.
Students watched from every direction.
Judging.
Curious.
Calculating.
Some stared at the egg.
Others stared at Skye.
She climbed the steps.
Caelin's pale gaze dropped toward the golden shell.
Something flickered in her expression.
Gone too quickly for Skye to identify.
The headmistress lifted her staff.
“Do you claim this egg?”
Silence.
Skye looked down.
Warm golden light swirled beneath the translucent shell.
The question struck her as strange.
Did she claim it?
How could someone claim something that had chosen them?
How could she reject something that had looked inside her and said—
You are seen.
Skye held the egg closer.
“I do.”
The bell rang.
BOOOONG.
Golden light erupted through the egg.
The courtyard collectively inhaled.
Skye stepped aside.
Ashen approached.
He moved differently now.
Still controlled.
Still infuriatingly unreadable.
But tired.
His Crucible had cost him something.
Skye wondered what he'd seen.
What he'd fought.
What had found him.
Caelin looked toward the black egg.
For the first time, the headmistress's expression changed.
Barely.
Her fingers tightened around her staff.
Skye noticed.
So did Ashen.
“Initiate Ashen Thorn.”
His jaw tightened.
“Do you claim this egg?”
Ashen looked down.
The dark shell breathed beneath his hand.
“Yes.”
The bell rang.
But this time—
Skye felt something beneath it.
A vibration.
Low.
Wrong.
The golden egg in her arms went still.
Completely still.
Skye looked down.
Her heart skipped.
Then the shell pulsed again.
Ashen walked past her.
“Congratulations, Red.”
Skye stared at him.
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
“Is that your blood?”
“Some of it.”
“Comforting.”
“I don't deal in comfort.”
Skye almost smiled.
Then her eyes dropped toward his egg.
Ashen noticed.
His expression closed immediately.
Later.
She would ask later.
And this time, he wasn't escaping without answering.
By late afternoon, the final Crucible bells had stopped tolling.
Not everyone returned.
Skye noticed.
No one discussed it.
That disturbed her more.
The sky above Scaleborn had turned gold and lavender when Keala found them again.
Skye stood near the courtyard's edge with Ashen.
Their eggs created an almost absurd contrast.
Hers glowed like bottled sunlight.
His swallowed everything around it.
“There you are!”
Skye turned.
Keala bounced toward them.
Ashen sighed.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“You don't even know what I'm about to say.”
“I know enough.”
Keala ignored him.
“It's time for your official welcome tour!”
Skye raised an eyebrow.
“Didn't we already have one?”
“That was the pre-Crucible tour.”
“There was barely a tour.”
“Exactly. This is the post-Crucible edition.”
Keala waved dramatically.
“Come on, golden girl and brooding boy.”
Ashen stared at her.
“Brooding boy?”
“If the cloak fits.”
Skye snorted.
Ashen looked betrayed.
“You're encouraging her.”
“I like her.”
“Of course you do.”
They followed.
Keala spread her arms as they crossed the courtyard.
“Welcome to your upgrade. The elemental dormitories.”
She pointed toward the cliffs.
“Earth dorms. Down there.”
Skye followed her finger.
Buildings appeared to have been carved directly into the floating island.
“Mossy, dark, weirdly good at baking.”
Skye frowned.
“The dorm is good at baking?”
“The Earth students.”
“That makes more sense.”
“Fire is in the south tower.”
A distant explosion echoed.
Keala didn't even flinch.
“You'll hear them before you see them.”
Smoke drifted from one of the windows.
“Someone is always yelling or blowing something up.”
“Should we be concerned?” Skye asked.
“No.”
Another explosion.
Keala reconsidered.
“Usually.”
They continued.
“Air dormitories are in the upper spires. Literally. Floating hallways, disappearing stairs, bridges that move whenever they feel like it.”
Skye looked upward.
Students walked across a bridge suspended between nothing.
“No.”
Ashen glanced at her.
“Poorly maintained architecture?”
“Exactly.”
Keala laughed.
“Water spirals around the western falls.”
Blue-roofed structures curved alongside a massive waterfall.
Skye smiled.
“That's beautiful.”
“I know.”
Keala looked immensely proud.
“Slippery as hell, though.”
Finally, she pointed upward.
Crystal arches caught the sunlight along the eastern tower.
“And you, Skye, are headed to Light.”
Skye's chest tightened.
Her egg brightened.
“East Tower. Sunbeams. Silence. Glowing doors. Lots of ancient books.”
“That sounds perfect.”
“And unbearably prestigious.”
Keala wiggled her fingers mysteriously.
“Very fancy.”
Skye laughed.
Then Keala looked at Ashen.
Her enthusiasm faltered slightly.
“And you…”
Her gaze dropped toward the egg.
“West wing.”
Ashen said nothing.
“House Umbra.”
Skye looked toward the opposite side of Scaleborn.
The architecture there was darker.
Older.
Built beneath enormous stone arches where sunlight rarely reached.
“Shadow students stay there,” Keala continued. “Cold stone. No windows in half the rooms. Hallways don't always take you where you expect.”
“Wonderful,” Ashen murmured.
“But the library is enormous.”
He glanced toward her.
“And the beds are surprisingly soft.”
“Sold.”
Skye rolled her eyes.
Eventually, the path divided.
One staircase climbed toward sunlit crystal arches.
The other descended beneath the academy into shadow.
Keala stopped.
“This is where we split.”
Skye looked toward the stairs.
Light went up.
Shadow went down.
Simple.
Except nothing about Ashen felt simple anymore.
He adjusted the dark egg beneath his arm.
For the first time all afternoon, his confidence seemed to falter.
A shaky breath escaped him.
So quiet Skye almost missed it.
“Ashen?”
He looked at her.
She had a thousand questions.
About the River of Tears.
About the thing beneath his cloak.
About his egg.
About why her dragon had gone completely still when his claiming bell rang.
About the vision in the Crucible.
About the thing wearing his face.
But when Skye opened her mouth, none of those questions came out.
“Try not to fall off anything.”
His familiar smirk returned.
“Worried about me, Red?”
“No. I don't feel like saving you twice.”
“Of course.”
Ashen started down the stairs.
Skye watched.
Halfway down, he stopped.
He didn't turn around.
“Skye.”
Something in his voice made her straighten.
“Yeah?”
Silence.
For a moment, she thought he might finally tell her something real.
Instead he said, “Don't trust everything Scaleborn shows you.”
Skye's heart stopped.
The Crucible.
The shadow.
His pendant.
“Ashen—”
He descended.
Mist swallowed him.
Skye stared after him.
Her golden egg pulsed against her chest.
Once.
Twice.
A warning?
Recognition?
She couldn't tell.
Keala stood quietly beside her.
For once, the Water student didn't make a joke.
Skye looked toward the dark archway.
Somewhere beneath it was Ashen Thorn.
A man who had known who she was before she gave him her name.
A man who could frighten Terraclaws without raising a weapon.
A man who had hidden something beneath his cloak before either of them entered Scaleborn.
And now—
A man whose egg made her dragon fall silent.
Skye tightened her arms around the golden shell.
She would get answers.
But not tonight.
She turned.
The eastern staircase waited.
Warm sunlight spilled down its steps.
Skye began climbing.
With every step, the shadows behind her grew farther away.
The egg in her arms glowed brighter.
At the top of the staircase stood two enormous crystal doors.
Golden runes awakened across their surface as she approached.
Skye stopped.
Her heart pounded.
For four years, she'd dreamed of reaching Scaleborn.
She'd thought getting here would be the difficult part.
She had been wrong.
The doors opened.
Warm golden light poured across her face.
Skye stepped forward.
And somewhere deep beneath the western wing of Scaleborn, in a room untouched by sunlight, Ashen's egg opened its first crack.
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