Chapter — Dormfire Secrets
By the time the trio left Kael's blazing forge, night had slipped over the Academy like a velvet shroud. The air was thick with a faint magical haze, the kind that lingered after intense rituals and spellwork. Lanterns flickered gently along the stone corridors, casting long, wavering shadows as the boys quietly made their way back to their dormitory tower.
No words were spoken.
Not yet.
They were too worn, too fractured—body and mind still reeling from the cave, the Shaman, the Board, and now the revelation that their very weapons were being remade.
Asher slumped against the door when they arrived, fumbling with the brass handle. The moment the door creaked open, the scent of old books, dusty firewood, and dragonweed incense wrapped around them like a memory.
Home. In its own messy, boyish way.
The door slammed shut behind them, the echo thudding through the dorm's thick walls like a drumbeat.
For the first time in what felt like days, the trio stood still.
No goblins.
No Shaman.
No forges or watching eyes.
Just silence. Heavy, tired silence.
Nick tossed his cloak over a chair, dragging his boots off with lazy kicks. Ethan dropped the satchel gently onto the table, careful not to jostle it too much. The weight inside shifted slightly—three eggs, still warm, still pulsing with faint, silent energy. Asher flopped onto the nearest couch and let out a long, exasperated groan.
"This place smells worse than I remember," he muttered into a cushion.
"No," Ethan said flatly, "you smell worse."
Nick gave a low laugh, walking over and lighting a few of the nearby lanterns with a twist of wind and a flick of mana. Soft gold light filled the dorm, casting uneven shadows and revealing just how filthy they were—scuffed armor, dried blood, dirt, bruises, and the occasional fleck of goblin grime.
Still, despite everything, their eyes kept drifting to the satchel.
Asher sat up. "Alright. Time to see what all the fuss was about."
Ethan opened the flap, slowly.
One by one, they lifted the eggs out and set them on the table. They made a strange sound when placed down—a dull, heavy thud, like stone infused with something not quite alive but definitely not dead.
Each of the three eggs looked subtly different.
One was the deep orange of smoldering embers, faint lines glowing beneath its cracked-looking surface. Another shimmered in faint bluish veins, smooth like water-worn marble. The last was darkest of all—purplish-black, slightly slick to the touch, and faintly humming with an energy no one quite wanted to describe.
None of the boys spoke for a while.
Then Asher leaned in.
"Okay… what now? We're not eating them, right?"
Nick rolled his eyes. "We need to figure out what they are first. Maybe Kael knows something, or—"
"Wait," Ethan said, eyes narrowing. "Let's test them. Essences respond to mana. Maybe they react to elemental input."
"Won't that be dangerous?" Nick asked.
"Maybe. We don't do anything direct. Just... observe."
Asher, never one to wait when he could poke instead, reached forward and tapped the ember-like egg with his knuckle. "C'mon. Do something weird."
Nothing happened.
"Figures," he muttered, standing up too quickly.
His knee caught the edge of the table—and his hand, still bandaged from the earlier fight, scraped against one of the sharper metal corners. He hissed and instinctively pulled back.
Blood dripped from the reopened wound. Not much—just a thin red line sliding down his palm.
A drop hit the egg.
Then everything stopped.
The ember-egg absorbed the blood instantly. Like sand soaking water. The faint glow beneath its shell pulsed—once—then again, brighter.
Asher froze. "Did you see—?"
"Yeah," Ethan said, already stepping forward. "It reacted."
The glow faded a second later. Nothing else moved.
"What the hell was that?" Nick asked, leaning closer but careful not to touch.
"I didn't even mean to do that," Asher muttered, inspecting his palm. "It just… took it. Like it was hungry."
Ethan crouched beside the egg, staring at it for several long seconds. No surge of magic, no malevolent aura. Just… faint warmth.
"It's not aggressive," he said finally. "No mana disturbance. No life-drain. It just took the blood."
Asher raised an eyebrow. "Should I stab myself and give it a full cup?"
"No," both Nick and Ethan said at once.
But now they were all staring at their respective eggs.
Curiosity replaced caution.
Nick reached into his belt pouch and withdrew a thin shard of crystal—barely sharp, but enough. With a practiced flick, he pricked his thumb and held it above the blue-veined egg.
A single drop fell.
Just like Asher's, the egg absorbed it immediately. This time, a low whisper of wind swirled around the table—faint, almost imperceptible.
Nick pulled back. "Same reaction."
Ethan didn't hesitate.
He pricked the side of his finger and let the blood drop fall onto the dark egg.
This time, nothing visible happened. No flash, no surge. But the shadows near the base of the table shifted slightly. A soft buzz of static tickled his skin, barely there, before vanishing completely.
The boys stared at each other.
Three different eggs. Three identical responses.
All of them silent once more.
"…I don't like this," Nick said. "It's too... convenient."
"It wasn't," Asher said quietly. "I didn't even mean to bleed on it. It just happened."
Ethan exhaled slowly, eyes still on the egg. "No signs of danger. No signs of rejection. We keep this between us."
Nick nodded. "And we test. One drop at a time. See if anything changes."
Asher raised an eyebrow. "And what if they hatch into goblin freaks?"
"Then you can throw yours at the nearest noble," Ethan said.
Despite the tension, the room eased slightly.
The boys didn't understand what the eggs were. Or why they reacted to blood.
They didn't even know if they should keep feeding them.
But something deep down—some strange instinct—made it hard to walk away.
They didn't notice it then. Not the faint shimmer under the shells. Not the shift in the air. Not the way the warmth of the eggs felt just a little more... familiar.
They just chalked it up to exhaustion and went about their night.
Unaware.
Unaware that something within the eggs had already begun to change.