Back on the mainland, the Draconian Peaks rose before Sky in jagged defiance, their mist-wreathed ridges clawing at the sky. The mountain range was ancient, older than any kingdom, the home of the dragons.
The scent of embers, damp earth, and storm-charged air filled Sky's lungs as he exhaled slowly, adjusting the strap of his satchel.
Inside, the eggs trembled.
He felt it before he saw it—a deep, resonant shiver through the mind link. His nephews were restless.
Sky frowned, placing a steadying hand over the satchel. "Too much energy at once, huh? I get it."
Despite being unhatched, the eggs responded in subtle ways. A flicker of emotion rippled through the bond—discomfort, uncertainty, something that almost felt like longing.
It made sense. They had never been in a place like this. Stolen from their clutch as unhatched young, they had known only the sterile walls of human captivity. Val had lived far from other dragons, isolated. These eggs had never felt home.
