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Zephyr had never felt time stretch and compress the way it did now. Every breath, every heartbeat, every flick of movement from the pink-scaled creature in his arms carried a strange weight. The wind outside howled against the dormitory windows, rattling the shutters like claws tapping on glass. But inside his room, all was still—save for the tiny dragon curled in a nest of blankets on his bed, its breathing shallow and soft, its eyes closed in peaceful rest.
He sat beside it, his back against the wall, legs folded, gaze locked on the delicate rise and fall of the creature's chest. Its scales shimmered faintly in the dim light, pink at first glance, but under closer inspection, layered with a subtle iridescence that shimmered in pale gold and lavender tones depending on the angle. Its horns were only beginning to bud—two curved nubs atop its head like budding crystal, and its wings, barely developed, twitched occasionally in its sleep like a pup chasing something in a dream.
The system's interface floated quietly at the edge of his mind, translucent and unobtrusive.
[Bond Progress: 2%]
[New Familiar Detected: Lesser Star-Scale Dragon (Infant)]
[Growth Type: Soul-Linked | Evolution Dependent on Host Development]
[Bloodline Class: Unknown | Draconic Traits – Active]
[Initial Link Established. Passive Emotional Synchronization Enabled.]
Zephyr's throat felt dry, but his heart was steady. He hadn't known what to expect when he agreed to the bond. In truth, he hadn't expected anything. Yet from the moment the egg pulsed in that iron cage, from the instant its glow answered his presence and cracked open to reveal this tiny, ancient soul—it felt inevitable.
He moved slowly, brushing his fingers along the downy scales at its side. The dragon stirred slightly, but rather than shy away, it leaned into his touch. A soft trill vibrated in its throat, a sound like a purring cat mixed with the whisper of coals shifting in a hearth.
A chime echoed quietly.
[Daily Quest Initiated: Strengthen the Bond]
[Objective: Provide nourishment and positive emotional interaction with your dragon familiar for six continuous hours.]
[Reward: Trait Revelation – Passive Familiar Trait (Minor)]
Six hours. Zephyr glanced at the clock on the wall. It was already mid-morning. He had time—barely. More than that, he wanted to stay. For perhaps the first time since arriving at Lowmoor, he didn't feel like he was falling behind. He wasn't invisible or a burden or a joke. He had something no one else did, and not because it was powerful, but because it was his. This creature had chosen him, just as he had chosen it.
He lit a small brazier beside the bed, filling the room with warmth and the scent of cedar. Then he went to work preparing food. He crushed a selection of feed grains with a stone pestle, blending them with a drop of calming flower extract and a sprinkle of powdered moonleaf. He'd seen flighty beasts respond to this mixture before, but as he stirred it together, his skill activated.
A subtle shimmer pulsed from the paste, and he could feel his cultivation ability gently enhancing its aroma, drawing forth a note of sweetness like crushed apples and warm herbs.
When he brought the dish to the dragon, it opened one eye lazily, chirped once, and sniffed. Then, slowly, it began to eat, tongue flicking against the paste in soft licks.
Zephyr sat there and watched in silence. Afterward, he told it stories—not of heroes or monsters, but of simple things. Of his childhood in Brightmoor, of the days spent in the wheat fields chasing grasshoppers with Fenna, of the old tree that creaked like a tired beast in winter, of the fireflies that gathered near the irrigation trench in summer. He talked about the first time he fed a beast on his own. The first time one didn't bite him. The first time someone said he wasn't useless.
The dragon said nothing, but it listened. When he spoke of being mocked, it chirped softly. When he mentioned the cold silence of the awakening chamber, it curled closer to his side. Its warmth seeped through the blankets and into his ribs, steady and alive.
After some time, the system pinged softly.
[Daily Objective Completed.]
[Positive Emotional Bond Established.]
[Reward Granted – Passive Trait Unlocked: Empathic Pulse (Minor)]
[Effect: Host and familiar now share emotional resonance. Emotional clarity enhances healing speed and skill focus. Mild resistance to mental disruption.]
He hadn't even noticed how fast the hours passed. As the sun began to tilt toward late afternoon, a knock broke the calm.
He reacted quickly, tucking the dragon under his coat and stepping toward the door.
"Who is it?"
"Fenna," came the muffled reply.
He opened the door just a crack. She stood there, cheeks red from the cold, a folded note clutched in one hand.
"You weren't in the gardens like usual. I figured you'd be here."
He nodded, keeping the scarf over the small shape nestled in his coat.
She held out the note. "Instructor Wren wants to see you. Now."
Zephyr stiffened. "Why?"
Fenna hesitated. "Something showed up this morning. A delivery. No paperwork. No origin rune. Just a sealed box with a magical lock and your name inscribed on it."
His heart dropped. "Where?"
"The auxiliary holding pen. Grent's freaking out. So are the instructors. I saw the containment crystal—it was glowing red."
He was already pulling on his boots.
They ran across the courtyard, snow now falling lightly, each flake catching the orange glow of torchlight. The auxiliary pen was guarded by two academy enforcers—unusual for Lowmoor, where dangerous beasts were rarely involved. They stepped aside as Zephyr approached, their eyes narrowing with suspicion but making no move to stop him.
Wren was already inside.
She turned as he entered, arms crossed, eyes sharp. "You didn't tell me."
"Didn't know what?" Zephyr asked, though the dragon's heartbeat was already racing against his chest.
Wren pointed toward the center pen.
There, nestled in a stone cradle surrounded by sigil-marked chains and runes glowing like hot iron, was the cracked remnants of the egg. The metal crate it had arrived in lay opened and scorched, as if melted from the inside.
"I scanned the egg before it hatched," she said. "The mana readings were higher than anything I've recorded at this academy. What's more concerning is the blood trace left inside the shell."
Zephyr didn't speak.
"The signature was draconic. True dragon lineage."
She stepped forward. "And you're the only person it responded to. Do you know what this means?"
He met her eyes. "It means I have to protect it."
For a moment, Wren said nothing. Then she handed him a rolled parchment—guild-sealed and freshly inked.
"Officially, it never arrived. Unofficially, if anyone finds out, you're going to have every beast hunter, relic collector, and noble family in the kingdom sniffing at your door."
Zephyr opened the scroll. It was a blank manifest marked with clearance stamps. A clean record. A shield.
"You're giving me cover?"
"I'm giving you a chance," she said. "But don't screw it up."
He nodded. "I won't."
When he returned to his room, the dragon emerged from the coat, yawning and curling into the blankets once more.
Zephyr leaned back and stared at the ceiling.
He had no idea what storm this creature would bring. No idea what truths his bloodline would reveal, or how far this bond would carry them.
But he knew this—
He would train. He would grow. And when the world came for his dragon, it would find him waiting.
Not as a feeder. Not as an F-rank.
But as its protector.
And in time… its sovereign.