A cold breeze from an open window washes over her exposed skin, sending chills across her legs. She stirs in her bed as her skin prickles and the hairs on her legs stand up in the cool air. She shifts, retreats, subconsciously seeking a new equilibrium of warmth in the depths of her sheets.

Little scratches are faintly audible near the desk across the room. A ellipsoid-shaped egg, encrusted with verdant groves, lay perched atop a small cushion. The scratching within stops and is replaced by a small thumping sound. *thunk *thunk *thunk the egg gives a little, and the smallest of cracks forms among the outer grooves.

Settled and lost in the comforts of her dream, she doesn’t feel the initial pull. The very part of her that brought her here is now trailing slowly across the room. An ancient event has begun, and the first victim lies asleep, unaware and dying.

Immediately the ruin scrawled into the bedpost begins to burn a brilliant orange. The pull wains slightly, begins to slow to a trickle, then suddenly breaks. In her immature haste, the lines of her carved ruin prove feeble under the sudden duress. It’s design never fit to match the strength or will of a new hatchling.

*Thunk *Thunk *Thunk

Through the crack, the hatchling can sense sources of the weave; it can sense her. The strings of power that flow through her very body call to it, and it craves more. Though exhausted, its hunger emboldens it. Breaking through her protection spell like a spider breaks a strand of its own silk web. Then it pulls again, deep and hungry. The ruin goes dark.

*THUNK *THUNK *THUNK

It happens in an instant. A buff-colored tooth suddenly pierces the egg's thick shell, and with it, a wave engulfs the room in silence. The curtains flick against the wind, and lying in bed, the woman’s chest rises and falls with deep sleeping breaths, now all completely silenced.

It pulls its tooth back, retreating within the egg. A small gust of air blows bits of shell through the newly cracked hole. The baby dragon sneezes, silenced within. With the last remaining bits of its energy, it pulls on the strands of weave within range. Ionized trindles flow through the window from the nights sky, warm wafts trail away from a small glass sphere hanging from a leather strap on a hook by the door, and thin trails drift slowly from the sleeping woman’s body. The hatchling absorbs it all.

The breeze blows in.

The curtains flick back.

But the women’s breaths have suddenly ceased.

Silence dominates for two minutes, five, eight... then suddenly a puff of egg dust, another hatching sneeze, followed by an instentanious spherical eruption of electrified air. It’s soundless yet powerful, and it spreads momentarily out across the room. Then dissipates in a flash.

The breeze blows in. The curtains flap. The woman sighs but does not wake.

***

The Daily Gate

Article: 1 Issue: 1086

-Citadel’s BREAKING News-

A recently enrolled resident in training was found early this morning unresponsive in the women’s residence hall. Miss. Veronic Dawson, a resident in said hall, spoke with reporters earlier this morning, stating the woman appeared to have stollen property in her possession, which authorities believe may have led to her unfortunate condition.

Citidel athorities have yet to release the name of the women in question to preserve her anonymity while they investigate the case further. The stolen property has since been returned, but no other comments have been made regarding what was stolen.

This unknown woman has since been taken in for medical treatment at the Grand Wizard Citidel Hospital. Where she is said to be in what appears to be a temporary coma. No further comments have been made at this time.

Shining off, T. Hinkle

***

READ ALL ABOUT IT!

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