Chapter 10

The royal summons had been accepted. The date was set.

One month.

One month until Theo would stand beneath the stained-glass ceiling of Valebourne's High Court, surrounded by silk-tongued nobles and smiling blades.

One month until the Duke of Aldercrest—the thorn in the realm's heel—would step into the lion's den.

And in that month… Theo returned to the crypts every day.

The chamber was always quiet, lined in runes and ancient stone. No servants were allowed here. No scribes. No guards. Just Theo… and the egg.

Each day, he came alone.

Sometimes in the morning, while fog still kissed the grass. Sometimes late at night, when even the castle ghosts had gone silent. And always, he placed his hand gently on the obsidian shell.

The warmth was always there.

So was the pulse.

But lately… it had changed.

The egg no longer simply accepted his presence—it drank from it. Mana, slow and subtle, trickled from Theo's fingertips like dew into fire. He could feel it. The weight. The hunger.

It wasn't hostile.

It wasn't kind either.

"You're feeding," Theo muttered on the tenth day, kneeling beside the egg. "You're taking a part of me."

He pressed his palm against the shell. Felt the faint throb beneath the surface. Like a second heartbeat buried in stone.

"Just make sure you remember whose mana it is… when you finally hatch."

He gave a dry chuckle. "Gods, I'm talking to an egg."

But the egg throbbed again, stronger this time.

And for the first time, Theo felt a presence inside it. Vast. Ancient. Asleep—but dreaming.

It knew him.

The Night Before Departure

The manor had never been quieter.

Every torch flickered with caution. Every servant walked a little slower. Every word was measured.

Theo's name had begun to carry weight far beyond Aldercrest. Farmers whispered it with hope. Nobles with contempt. The Church with unease. And now the Crown—with wary calculation.

But inside his family wing, things were simpler.

That night, his father—Duke Alaric—stood on the balcony, arms crossed, watching the stars.

He did not speak until Theo stepped beside him.

"I still remember holding you as a child," Alaric said, voice a low rumble. "You were quiet. Always watching. I thought it strange then. Now I know better."

He looked over, eyes hard but proud.

"You were meant for storms, my son. I see that now. And storms don't raise flags… they raise kingdoms."

Theo didn't respond immediately. Instead, he looked out at the darkened hills, his home sleeping beneath starlight.

"Will they kill me in Valebourne?"

Alaric didn't flinch.

"Only if they're stupid enough to try."

They stood in silence after that. Father and son. War and reason.

And when Theo turned to leave, Alaric placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't forget who you are… but more importantly, don't let them forget it either."

In the hallway, his mother waited.

Lady Seraphine—sharp of mind, soft of voice. She didn't embrace him right away. Just looked him over, head to toe, as if memorizing the shape of her son before he stepped into history.

"I've packed your tonics," she said, fussing over his collar. "And your warding pendant. And don't drink anything purple in the capital. Not even the wine."

Theo smiled faintly. "Mother—"

"—And stay close to Elric. I don't trust that capital air."

"Mother."

She stopped. Looked up.

And for the first time in weeks, her eyes shimmered.

"I know you'll come back," she whispered. "But gods help them if they try to send you home in a box."

She hugged him tightly, and for just a moment, Theo was no duke, no schemer, no revolutionary. Just her son.

Departure

The courtyard was alive with motion. Guards mounting horses. Carriages packed with scrolls, supplies, weapons hidden in compartments. Horses snorted and stomped, sensing the weight of what this journey meant.

Theo stood before them in storm-grey travel wear, long coat fluttering in the morning wind, silver buttons gleaming like thorns.

Elric stood at his right, calm as always.

Lira beside him, sword and ledger strapped to her hips.

Behind them, others from the inner circle—strategists, scholars, a seer from the far isles, even a smuggler who'd sworn blood loyalty to Theo after a raid on bandits saved her village.

This wasn't just a delegation.

It was a message.

And as the final trunk was loaded, Theo took one last detour—down the stone steps, through the hidden passage, to the cold crypt below.

The egg awaited him.

He placed his hand on it one last time.

And this time, the heat surged like fire beneath the skin.

A crack had formed.

Small.

Hair-thin.

But there.

Theo smiled.

"You're almost ready," he said softly. "So am I."

And then he turned, cloak flaring behind him like a shadow.

Above, the horns blew.

The gates opened.

And the Duke of Aldercrest rode forth—toward the capital.

Toward the court.

Toward destiny.

Behind him, buried in stone and silence, the dragon stirred once more.

Theo sat inside the lead carriage, across from Elric and Lira. Neither spoke for a while. Outside, the vast forests of the duchy passed by like fading memories—home shrinking behind them with every turn of the wheels.

Elric finally broke the silence, his voice low, almost teasing.

"You nervous, my liege?"

Theo's gaze remained fixed out the window. Forest. Fog. Faint birdsong. He didn't answer immediately.

Then, with a quiet breath, he said,

"No."

He paused.

"But…"

A beat passed. And then, softer—so soft even Lira almost missed it—

"Yes. A little."

Lira looked up. "Of the capital?"

Theo shook his head, slowly.

"Not for me."

He leaned back, eyes distant now, as though seeing his mother's eyes again… his father's steady hand on his shoulder… the egg resting beneath the manor, warm and waiting.

"I'm not afraid of what will happen to me."

His voice was barely above a whisper.

"I'm afraid of what will happen to them… if I fail."

Silence fell again.

But this time, it was not cold.

Lira leaned back. Elric said nothing. There was nothing to say.

The road to Valebourne stretched on before them, long and winding.

And behind them, a home worth bleeding for.

End of Chapter 16: One Month to Fire

Final Line: "I'm not afraid of what will happen to me… I'm afraid of what will happen to them… if I fail."