The cave exhaled around them, its breath stale and thick with the scent of damp stone and something that lingered in the cracks of the world, waiting. The mana cores embedded in the ceiling pulsed faintly, their glow casting jagged shadows across the rough-hewn walls. The light flickered like dying stars, illuminating the hollows of Eryk's face as he stared at the dragon egg resting on the stone table before him.
It was hatching.
The crack in its shell had widened, a hairline fracture now a jagged seam, splitting the iridescent black surface like a wound. The egg trembled in place, rocking slightly with each shuddering breath from the creature inside. A low, resonant hum filled the air, not a sound but a vibration, something that thrummed in Eryk's bones rather than his ears.
He couldn't move.
His fingers hovered over the shell, close enough to feel the heat radiating from it, but he didn't dare touch it. Some part of him feared that if he did, the egg would shatter entirely, and whatever lay inside would spill out into the world too soon.
It's scared.
The realization struck him like a blade to the ribs. The whispers hadn't stopped since the first fracture appeared—soft, wordless murmurs that coiled around his thoughts, slipping into the hollow places inside him where the Null Grimoire now lived. The dragon's fear was a living thing, sharp and desperate, and it resonated with something deep in his chest.
He knew that fear.
He had carried it his whole life.
Across the cave, Riven watched him with eyes like smoked glass. The old Spellbreaker hadn't moved since Eryk had placed the egg on the table, his gaunt frame draped in tattered robes, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. The silence between them was heavy, weighted with too many questions and not enough answers.
Then, Riven spoke.
"You named it."
Eryk blinked, startled. "What?"
Riven tilted his head slightly, his gaze never leaving the egg. "The dragon. You named it."
Eryk's throat tightened. He hadn't. Not really. But the thought had crossed his mind—fleeting, foolish—in the quiet moments when the egg's whispers grew too loud to ignore.
"No," he muttered, though the lie tasted bitter.
Riven exhaled, a sound like dry leaves scraping stone. "You're a terrible liar, boy."
Eryk scowled but didn't argue.
"Fine, I named it!" Eryk said. "Ares."
Ares. Like Sera's name, but pronounced backward.
Riven laughed.
The egg shuddered again, a piece of the shell flaking away, revealing a sliver of darkness beneath. And then he saw something in there. A claw? A scale? Eryk couldn't tell. His pulse quickened, and his breath catching in his chest.
Sera should be here.
The thought came unbidden, sharp and sudden. She would've scoffed, rolled her eyes, called him sentimental. But she would've watched, too. Maybe even smiled, just a little, in that way she did when she thought no one was looking.
But Sera wasn't here.
She was somewhere above, in the Wastes, hunting or being hunted. And Eryk was here, in the belly of the earth, waiting for a dragon to hatch while the world outside burned.
Riven shifted, his robes whispering against stone. "You still haven't answered my question."
Eryk dragged his gaze away from the egg. "Which one?"
"Why?"
The word hung between them, simple and devastating.
Why are you here?
Why did you come to me?
Why did you keep the egg alive?
Eryk's fingers curled into fists at his sides.
"I told you. I need your help."
"No," Riven said softly. "You want my permission."
Eryk stiffened.
Riven leaned forward, the dim light carving hollows beneath his eyes. "You could've run. Could've hidden. Could've let the void take everything until there was nothing left but hunger. But you didn't. You came here, dragging a dragon egg behind you like some kind of offering, hoping I'd tell you that you're not a monster."
The words struck like a physical blow. Eryk's chest ached, the hollow inside him pulsing in response.
"I'm not—"
"Aren't you?" Riven's voice was quiet, almost gentle. "You've drained men dry. Felt their magic unravel in your hands. Felt the void inside you feast. What do you call that, if not monstrous?"
Eryk's breath came too fast, his vision swimming. He wanted to argue, to scream, to deny it—but the truth was a weight he couldn't shake.
He had killed.
Not just Mael, not just Dren.
The scout in the forest. The mage in the Warrens.
Their faces haunted him in the dark.
"I didn't want to," he whispered, the words ragged.
Riven's expression didn't change. "Does it matter?"
Eryk had no answer.
The egg gave another shudder, more of the shell crumbling away. A claw emerged, small and sharp, glistening with fluid. The dragon was coming.
And Eryk had no idea what to do.
~○~
"Help me with this kind of... sickness!"
"It's not a sickness." Riven looked at him.
"The book was inside me."
"WHAAAAT?!!" Riven's eyes widened. He didn't know what to do when he heard it from Eryk. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE BOOK WAS INSIDE OF YOU?"
"The void accidentally eat it!" said Eryk.
Riven didn't offer comfort to him.
What he offered was a path.
He calmed himself and looked at Eryk again.
"There's a man," he said, his voice was low. "An old friend. He lives in the Court of Thorns—the fairy kingdom beyond the eastern mountains. He might know how to separate the Grimoire from your soul."
Eryk's head snapped up. "Might?!!"
Riven's lips curled, just slightly. "Nothing in this world is certain, kid. But he's your best chance."
Eryk swallowed hard. The fairy kingdom. A place of old magic. He haven't gone there in his entire life. And he didn't know where it was!
"How do I find him?"
"You don't." Riven's smile was thin. "He finds you."
Eryk exhaled sharply, the frustration bubbling in his chest. "That's not helpful."
"It's all I have."
Silence settled between them again, broken only by the soft cracking of the egg. The dragon's claw flexed, testing the air, the world beyond its shell.
Eryk watched it, something tightening in his throat.
"And if he can't help me?"
Riven didn't answer right away. When he did, his voice was softer than Eryk had ever heard it.
"Then you learn to live with the hunger."
~○~
Before they left, Eryk asked for one more thing.
"The mana core," he said, nodding toward the ceiling. "The earth one. Can you take it down?"
Riven studied him for a long moment. "Why?"
Eryk's jaw clenched. "I just—I need it."
He didn't know why he wanted it. Maybe as a reminder. Maybe as a hope. Maybe just to prove that something could still be whole in a world that had shattered him.
Riven didn't press. With a flick of his wrist, the earth core detached from the ceiling, floating gently into his palm. It was smaller than Eryk expected, no larger than a coin, its surface etched with faint, glowing runes.
Riven held it out. "It won't give you magic."
Eryk took it anyway. The core warm against his skin. "I know."
~○~
The climb back to the surface was harder than the descent.
The Wastes greeted them with a sky the color of old bruises, the air thick with the scent of rust and decay. Eryk cradled the dragon egg against his chest, the core tucked safely in his pocket.
Riven didn't follow him out.
"You'll find the Court beyond the Shattered Peaks," he said, lingering in the mouth of the cave. "Look for the thorns. They'll guide you."
Eryk nodded, though a thousand questions still burned in his chest.
"Thank, old, smelly man!" he said, though the words felt inadequate.
Riven's gaze flickered to the egg, then back to Eryk's face. "Don't thank me yet, boy. The hardest part is still ahead."
Then he was gone, swallowed by the shadows of the cave.
Eryk stood there for a moment, the weight of the egg in his arms, the weight of the future pressing down on his shoulders.