The egg was pitch black, nearly two meters tall (that’s one small basketball player, for our American friends), and my arms couldn’t even reach halfway around it. Its surface was smooth and cold, with faint, winding patterns etched into the shell, like ancient runes or veins of dark marble.
“Let’s hope my storage keeps food fresh,” I muttered to myself as I began heating the egg with magic. I focused on the flow of energy, following the strange markings on the shell, trying to spread the heat evenly across its surface. I kept the magic steady, letting warmth seep into the cold, inky blackness, until—
CRACK!
The sharp sound split the air, and I stumbled back, nearly losing my balance. A jagged fracture snaked its way down the length of the egg, light spilling from within as the shell began to break apart.
“Thank you for the food!”
The words reverberated through the air, stopping me in my tracks. It was a young woman’s voice, clear and melodious, yet carrying a weight that was impossible to ignore. There was power in her tone—an ancient, undeniable force that resonated deep in my bones. Each word seemed to vibrate, as if the very air thrummed with energy, hinting at a storm beneath a calm sea.
The pieces of the shell fell away, and there she stood, emerging from the remains of the egg. Her golden eyes fixed on me, unblinking, as if appraising the world for the first time—or perhaps judging me. Long, pitch-black hair hung in thick, wet strands, clinging to her pale skin, while a translucent, slimy substance dripped slowly from the tips and pooled at her bare feet.
She was completely naked, but there was nothing vulnerable about her. She stood tall, her posture upright and regal, with a nobility that seemed out of place for someone who had just been… born? Awoken? Her presence was commanding, even majestic, as though she had stepped straight from the pages of a forgotten legend.
I took a step back, my heart pounding in my chest. Her golden eyes gleamed with an otherworldly light, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
“Speechless? Well…” she stopped for a moment, her eyes flickered to the half eaten potato innocently lying next to me.
Her golden eyes locked onto mine again, her voice a melodic whisper that sent shivers down my spine. “You have no idea what you’ve unleashed, do you?”
“I—” I swallowed hard, my mind scrambling for an explanation, an excuse, anything that might make sense of what I’d just done. “I am so sorry!” The words tumbled out before I could think, sounding absurdly inadequate in the face of whatever… whoever she was.
Her golden eyes seemed to pierce straight through me, as though reading my every thought. The half-smile returned, but there was a trace of pity in it now, or perhaps… curiosity. “Sorry?” She took a step closer, the faint slime still clinging to her skin as it dripped onto the dirt. “I wonder, little one… do you even know what it means to be sorry?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but the words stuck in my throat. The world felt different in her presence—heavier, as though her very existence warped reality around her. Whoever or whatever she was, I had a feeling that “sorry” wasn’t going to cut it.
She tilted her head slightly, her hair shifting like liquid night. “Tell me,” she continued, her voice softer now, almost gentle, “what year is it?”
I blinked, my confusion deepening. “I… I’m not sure. I am sorry.”
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The silence between us was thick and suffocating, a chasm I didn’t know how to cross.
“There’s no need for apologies,” she said at last, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You’ve granted me a second chance at life. But tell me, what were you hoping to find when you decided to cook such an unusual meal?” Her gaze flicked again to the half-eaten potato.
She paused for a moment, but not long enough for me to answer. “Hungry? Well, I suppose I can’t fault you for that,” she said with a light chuckle, the sound musical yet unsettling. “But now that you’ve unwittingly released me, what is it you seek in this world? Surely, you must have some desire beyond mere survival.”
She stepped closer, the air seeming to grow colder with her approach. Her presence was overwhelming, as though the space around her bent to her will. “You clearly have no idea where you are or what you have unleashed. I, however, am an Elder Dragon, a being of centuries—perhaps millennia—of wisdom and power. It is time you learn about the world you have found yourself in… and about the consequences of your actions.”
“Consequences?” The word came out before I could stop it, bitterness twisting my voice. My heart sank like a stone, and reality crashed down on me like a wave. “Consequences,” I repeated, my voice raw and on the verge of breaking. “To hell with consequences, lady. I have no idea where I am, what I’m doing, or how I even got here. I was just trying to eat a damned meal in peace after running for an entire day, after nearly freezing and burning to death in the same breath. Extraordinary?” I laughed bitterly. “Maybe an extraordinary pile of—”
“Enough!” Her voice sliced through the air like a blade, silencing me instantly. She loomed over me, her golden eyes burning with intensity. “Watch your foul language. You stand before me, Lyrieth, a being of great power and history. Show some respect.”
The air itself seemed to vibrate with the force of her words, pressing against my chest like a weight. I clenched my jaw, swallowing the rest of my outburst. “Respect?” I shot back, my voice quieter but still defiant. “You were inside an egg five minutes ago. I don’t even know who you are.”
Lyrieth’s gaze narrowed, and her smile faded, replaced by something colder, sharper. “You may not know who I am, little one, but you will learn. You will learn that the world does not bend to your ignorance. It is a place of laws and power, of consequences, whether you like it or not.”
She took a slow, deep breath, her expression softening just a fraction, though the sternness in her eyes remained. “You may be lost and overwhelmed, but you are not alone anymore. I will guide you—if you are willing to listen and learn. This world is dangerous, and you need to be prepared.” Her gaze pierced through me. “Tell me, young man, where are you from?”
I hesitated, but then I told her everything I remembered. There wasn’t much, and the pieces I could recall felt disjointed—like fragments of a half-forgotten dream. I spoke of cities and machines, of history, and war. As I spoke, Lyrieth listened intently, her golden eyes narrowing thoughtfully, absorbing every word.
“You come from a world vastly different from this one,” she said finally, her voice tinged with curiosity. “Machines, technology, wars for power… intriguing. But those experiences will serve you little here without understanding the magic and mysteries of this realm.” Her eyes flicked to the potato I still held in my hand, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Your food may be unappetizing, but it is a far cry from the true dangers you will face.”
I shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, glancing at the humble potato as if it were suddenly a symbol of my inadequacy. “So, what am I supposed to do then? I don’t know the first thing about magic or—” I gestured vaguely to the air around us, “whatever this place even is.”
Lyrieth’s smirk widened slightly, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. “You have skills, and I suppose they are commendable given your… circumstances,” she said, her tone less harsh but still edged with authority. “But here, you will need more than that. You must adapt to survive. The dangers of this world are not merely creatures or the elements; there are forces and rules at play that will consume you if you remain ignorant.”
She stepped closer, and I could feel the intensity of her presence pressing down on me. “Magic is the very foundation of this realm,” she continued. “It flows through the earth and the sky, through every living thing. You’ve already tapped into it without realizing. But unless you learn to control it, you are as much a danger to yourself as anything else. I will guide you.”
I stared at her for a long moment, then shrugged. “Good to know.” Without ceremony, I tossed the potato over my shoulder and pulled out my blanket from storage. “I’m going to sleep now. It’s getting dark. You can wake me if we get attacked or if you get tired. You can also eat me if you really want to—I don’t care at this point. Good night.”
Her eyes followed the potato as it sailed away, then snapped back to me as I materialized my blanket out of thin air. The amusement in her gaze gave way to a thoughtful seriousness, as though she were reassessing me.
“You certainly have spirit,” she remarked, a hint of something like admiration in her tone. “Very well, rest. You’ve been through much, and sleep will do more for you than any spell.”
As I settled down on the rough ground, she took a position nearby, scanning our surroundings with a quiet vigilance. “I’ll keep watch,” she assured, her voice softer now, almost gentle. “And fear not—I have no intention of eating you. You’re far more valuable to me alive.”
I snorted, already half-buried in the blanket. “Good to know.”
Without another word, Lyrieth raised a hand, and a soft, shimmering barrier appeared around the camp, its pale glow casting delicate shadows on the ground. There was something calming about it, a subtle sense of warmth and security that I hadn’t felt in… well, I couldn’t remember when.
“Sleep well,” she murmured, almost to herself. “There is much to discuss—and much to do—when you wake.”
I didn’t respond. I was already drifting off, exhaustion pulling me down like a weight. My last thought, before sleep swallowed me completely, was of Lyrieth’s watchful gaze and the mysteries that lay waiting beyond the dawn.
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