Lyne's revenge was done. The pale serpent lay dead, but inside her, something twisted and hollow.
Her gaze drifted to the last egg—the fragile shell trembling in the cold.
Her hand moved toward it, then froze. Not mercy. Not guilt. Something else. Recognition.
This thing survived.
Sightless stepped forward, voice calm but firm.
"You finished what you set out to do. No need to kill its last offspring. These snakes imprint on the first thing they see. It will see you as its mother—and companion."
The egg cracked sharply, a jagged line splitting the frost.
From the shell, a small silver-white snake slipped out, unsteady but alive, its eyes locking on Lyne.
A whisper echoed:
[You have acquired a forgotten white snake].
Sightless looked at her, expectant.
Lyne glanced at the fragile creature, then at Sightless.
"Fine," she said, voice rough. "I'll take care of it. I'll call it Sly."
Sightless nodded. "Fitting. A forgotten snake, its mother slain, now slithers with Lyne and I."
With Sly curled atop her shoulder, Lyne stepped from the den into the biting cold of the forgotten mount.
A whisper came again, colder this time:
[A Forgotten Arctic Fox is nearby].