Warmth.
That was the first thing I felt.
Not the gentle warmth of sunlight or blankets, but a heavy, molten heat that wrapped around me like a living thing. It pulsed in slow, rhythmic waves, seeping into me, through me, as if the warmth itself were breathing.
I tried to move, and the world pushed back.
A shell. I was inside something. Enclosed. Contained.
My thoughts drifted like smoke, slow and unfocused. I remembered cold pavement. Blood. Lena's voice fading into the dark. Then nothing.
Now there was only this suffocating heat and the tight curve of the world around me.
A heartbeat thudded in my ears: deep, resonant, powerful. It wasn't mine. It vibrated through the shell, through my bones, through whatever I had become. Each pulse sent a surge of energy through my limbs, awakening nerves that didn't belong to a human body.
I shifted, and something sharp scraped against the inner wall.
Claws. I had claws.
Panic flared, sharp, human, familiar, but it was drowned almost instantly by something else. Something older. Something vast.
A presence stirred inside me, coiled deep in my chest like a sleeping storm. It wasn't a thought. It wasn't a feeling. It was an instinct, infinitely complex and immense, stretching awake after centuries of slumber.
It felt ancient, older than memory, older than thought. A call written into the marrow of my new bones. A dragon's roar, not heard with ears but felt in the soul. It pulled me upward from the darkness, awakening something vast and instinctive within me.
It whispered without words.
Break.
Break free.
Live.
The command wasn't gentle. It wasn't patient. It pressed against my mind with the weight of mountains, with the certainty of fire knowing how to burn. My human fear shrank beneath it, small and fragile, like a candle flickering in a hurricane.
I tried to curl inward, but my body didn't bend the way it used to. Something long and heavy dragged behind me — a tail. Wings pressed tight against my sides. My chest expanded with a breath that felt too deep, too powerful, too alive.
The instinct surged again, stronger this time a tidal wave of hunger, heat, and purpose.
Break.
Break.
Break.
The shell around me suddenly felt suffocating, like a coffin closing in. My claws flexed, scraping harder. Cracks spiderwebbed across the curved wall. Light leaked through: thin, blinding, terrifying.
Voices reached me through the cracks, muffled and frantic.
"…reacting—"
"…containment runes failing—"
"…get back!"
The ancient instinct inside me roared.
Not a sound, a force.
A command.
A birthright.
Heat ignited in my chest, gathering in a place no human body had ever held. It swelled, burning brighter, hotter, until I thought I would burst from the pressure alone.
I struck the shell.
A crack split open. Light poured in. The instinct howled in triumph.
And for the first time since dying, I breathed.
The shell cracked again under my claws, and light stabbed into the darkness. I pushed, but the effort drained me faster than I expected. My limbs trembled. My breath hitched. For a terrifying moment, I sagged against the inside of the egg, the strength bleeding out of me as quickly as it had come.
A newborn.
I was a newborn.
The instinct inside me snarled at the weakness, but my body didn't care. Everything felt too heavy, too new, too overwhelming. The world beyond the cracks was a blur of shapes and shadows, and the air burned cold against my scales — scales I still wasn't ready to acknowledge.
Footsteps approached. Soft, quick, deliberate.
Goblins.
I didn't know how I knew, but the moment their voices sharpened into clarity, the truth settled into my bones.
"Careful," one hissed. "It's still moving."
"Still? It shouldn't be moving at all."
Another pair of footsteps circled behind me. I felt their presence like pinpricks along my spine — not through sight, but through some deeper sense, something primal that mapped the world in heat and motion.
I tried to lift myself, but my legs buckled. My body collapsed halfway out of the shattered shell, wings limp, tail dragging uselessly behind me. A pathetic sight. Easy prey.
"Get the restraints," a goblin barked. "Before it—"
The instinct inside me surged.
Not words. Not thoughts. A command.
Move.Rise.Survive.
Heat flared in my chest, burning away the weakness like dry leaves in a firestorm. My limbs steadied. My claws dug into the stone floor. My wings twitched, no longer dead weight but coiled potential.
The goblins froze.
"This… this can't be possible," one whispered. "A normal dragon should never have escaped our trap."
Dragon.
The word hit me like a hammer. A dragon. I was—
No. Not now. Not important.
Survival first. Questions later.
I forced my trembling body upright, every movement shaky but growing steadier by the second. The goblins stepped back, their fear sharp and metallic in the air. They weren't expecting this. They weren't prepared.
Good.
My gaze darted around the chamber — stone walls, glowing runes, narrow pathways branching off into the dark. No windows. No obvious exits. But there were shadows, corners, blind spots.
Places to run.
Places to hide.
I didn't know how fast I could move. I didn't know how strong I was. I didn't even know how to use half the limbs attached to me.
But I knew one thing with absolute certainty:
I was not letting them cage me.
Not now. Not ever.
My claws scraped against the stone as I backed away from the armored goblins, breath coming in sharp bursts. The chamber felt smaller now, the air thick with magic and tension. The goblins advanced in a slow, practiced formation — shields raised, weapons glowing with runes that pulsed like living veins.
They weren't afraid of me.
They were prepared for me.
The instinct inside me snarled, urging me to strike, to tear, to burn — but my newborn body trembled with every movement. I wasn't strong enough. Not yet.
One goblin lunged.
I dodged clumsily, my tail whipping behind me and knocking over a rack of metal tools. The crash echoed through the chamber, buying me a heartbeat of space. Another goblin swung a hooked staff toward my neck. I ducked, claws scraping sparks from the stone floor.
Too slow. Too unsteady.
A third goblin jabbed a spear toward my flank. Pain flared as the tip grazed my scales, leaving a burning line across my side. I hissed, more from instinct than intention, and the goblin flinched back.
Good. Fear meant hesitation.
I shoved forward, ramming my shoulder into the nearest goblin. He stumbled, armor clattering, and I bolted past him. My legs wobbled, wings dragging, but momentum carried me toward the far side of the chamber.
"Cut it off!"
"Don't let it reach the inner tunnels!"
Inner tunnels.
That meant escape.
I sprinted or did something close to sprinting, toward a narrow passage carved into the stone. The goblins shouted behind me, their boots pounding against the floor. A spell cracked past my head, exploding against the wall in a burst of blue light.
The tunnel ahead glowed faintly — not from torches, but from embedded stones lining the walls. Smooth, polished crystals shimmered with a soft blue radiance, casting long shadows across the floor. They looked expensive. Ancient. Important.
Which meant dangerous.
But danger was better than capture.
I threw myself into the tunnel, claws skidding across the smooth stone. The air here felt different — colder, sharper, humming with a magic that prickled against my scales. The crystals pulsed as I passed, reacting to my presence with a faint, eerie glow.
Behind me, the goblins hesitated.
"Wait—this passage is restricted!" "We can't let it enter the vault corridors!" "Notify the Director!"
Vault corridors.
I didn't know what that meant, but the panic in their voices told me enough.
I kept moving.
The tunnel sloped downward, the blue crystals growing thicker along the walls, forming intricate patterns like veins of frozen lightning. The deeper I went, the more the air vibrated — a low, thrumming resonance that made my bones ache.
My legs burned. My lungs heaved. My wings dragged uselessly behind me.
I was slowing down.
The goblins realized it.
"Push forward!"
"It's tiring!"
"Don't let it reach the vault gate!"
Vault gate.
I didn't know what that was either, but it sounded like a barrier — maybe one I could slip through before they caught me.
I forced myself onward, claws digging into the stone. The tunnel widened suddenly, opening into a circular chamber. At the far end stood a massive archway sealed by a thick metal gate — not iron, but something darker, smoother, etched with runes that glowed faintly blue.
The same blue as the crystals.
The same blue as the magic humming in the air.
I stumbled toward it, hope flaring — only for the gate to remain unmoving, sealed tight.
No handle. No mechanism. No way through.
Behind me, the goblins poured into the chamber, forming a semicircle that cut off any retreat. Their armor gleamed in the crystal light, their weapons raised, their expressions grim.
"This is the end," one said. "Don't damage it," another warned. "The Director wants it alive."
Alive.
Caged.
Owned.
No.
The instinct inside me roared in defiance, but my body sagged, trembling with exhaustion. I backed against the sealed gate, claws scraping uselessly against the metal. The goblins advanced slowly, carefully, like hunters closing in on a wounded beast.
I was trapped.
The instinct screamed for escape. My mind raced for options. My body trembled, drained and cornered.
And then—
A faint vibration pulsed through the gate behind me. A hum. A resonance.
The crystals lining the walls brightened, casting the chamber in a cold blue glow.
The goblins froze.
"Wait—"
"The vault is reacting—"
"Impossible—!"
The gate behind me shuddered, magic rippling across its surface like water disturbed by a stone.
Something was happening.
Something big.
And I had no idea whether it would save me… or kill me.