No echo. No shuffle. Just gone.
He strained his ears. Heard nothing but the distant drip of water. Then another. Like sothing was breathing, far down the tunnel.
Or waiting.
He killed the fla.
Not out of fear. Just instinct.
He let his fingers hover near the hilt of his sword instead, body low, breath quiet.
Behind him, Ren moved like a ghost. Ardan stayed where he was, anchoring the others with silence and posture alone.
No one said a word.
The cave didn't creak again.
But the weight of sothing unseen hung in the air like a coat he didn't rember putting on.
Lindarion squinted into the dark.
Still nothing.
But the steps had been real.
Sothing was down there.
The tension continued to crack like a dropped plate.
Not from an attack. Not from screaming.
From the soft, very deliberate click of tiny claws against stone.
Lindarion blinked.
The darkness ahead wasn't threatening anymore. It was… waddling.
A small shape erged from the edge of the shadows, no taller than his knee, with wings tucked tight against its sides and stubby horns sticking out like soone had glued them on as an afterthought.
The creature blinked up at them.
Big eyes. Shiny scales. Tail twitching like it was trying out emotions for the first ti.
Behind it, Lira stepped into view.
Her arms were folded. Her expression was unreadable, which for her ant she was probably thinking why do I live like this.
The baby dragon sneezed.
A tiny puff of smoke curled out of its nostrils. It looked very pleased with itself.
Lindarion stared.
So did Ren.
ren, blanket still half over his face, squinted. "Am I hallucinating a lizard with delusions of grandeur?"
"Yes," Lindarion muttered. "But it's real."
Ren took two slow steps forward, then crouched. "Oh my gods. Look at it. It's got toes."
The dragon puffed its chest. It was a very small puff.
Lira finally spoke. "It followed us in."
"Did you invite it?" Ardan asked, voice flatter than the cave walls.
"No," she said. "It was alone."
Ren extended one hand, palm up.
The dragon waddled closer. Then tripped.
Fell on its face.
Scrambled back up with a squeak like it had just rembered it had dignity.
Ren made a noise that might have been a laugh or a barely-contained scream of joy. "We're keeping it."
"No," Lindarion said imdiately.
"Yes," she shot back.
"It could be dangerous."
"It fell over trying to blink."
Lira crouched beside the dragon now, one hand resting just above its tiny head. "It hasn't shown aggression."
"It's a dragon," Ardan said. "That's the definition of future aggression."
Lindarion sighed and stepped closer.
The dragon turned toward him.
Its eyes were too big for its head. Its scales shimred faintly in the firelight, like soone had spilled glitter across obsidian. It blinked once. Then waddled straight toward him and sat on his foot.
Just sat.
Like it had claid him.
"Oh great," he muttered. "I've been chosen by the world's smallest death machine."
The dragon sneezed again.
More smoke. Less nace.
Ren grinned. "You're a father now."
"No."
"Too late. You've imprinted."
ren finally pulled the blanket off his head. His eyes went wide. "Wait. Is that an actual dragon? Are we all about to die or be knighted or sothing? Because I'm not emotionally prepared for either."
"No one is dying," Lira said calmly. "It's young. Maybe weeks old."
Ardan raised an eyebrow. "And we're just ignoring the fact it's here. Alone."
"Clearly it has good taste," Ren said. "Look at us. Who wouldn't follow?"
Lindarion didn't move.
The dragon leaned against his boot, let out a high-pitched chirp, and closed its eyes.
It fell asleep.
Imdiately.
"Fantastic," he said. "I'm a mattress now."
He glanced at Lira. "Any reason it picked ?"
Her lips twitched. Not a smile. Just the ghost of knowing sothing she wasn't going to share.
"No."
Which ant yes.
Ren was already whispering nas to herself.
"Ember? No, too basic. Spitfire? Hm. Maybe Pudding."
"Do not na it," Lindarion said.
"I'm naming it."
"Ren."
"You can't stop ."
He sighed again.
The baby dragon snored.
It sounded like a kitten hiccuping.
ren whispered, "We're going to die and it's going to be cute the whole ti."
Lindarion didn't argue.
Because honestly?
He wasn't sure if they were blessed or dood.
Maybe both.
The dragon was drooling on his boot.
Not taphorically. Not a little.
Actual, honest-to-mana drool. Warm. Viscous. Slightly shimry, like soone had lted down a pearl and decided it belonged on his foot.
Lindarion stared at it.
The dragon snored louder. Its tail gave a lazy flick like it was dreaming about setting sothing on fire. Probably him.
He sighed.
"Lira," he said flatly. "Why is this thing trying to adopt ?"
She didn't look up right away. Her eyes stayed on the dragon like she was cataloging it for a ntal bestiary. Only when she finished whatever ntal checklist she was running did she speak.
"It's not adoption."
"Could've fooled ."
She tilted her head slightly. "It's imprinting."
"That doesn't explain anything."
"It ans," she said slowly, "you were the first one it felt safe near."
Lindarion stared down at the glorified lizard snoring on his foot.
Safe.
'Sure. Because nothing says security like a slightly annoyed eleven-year-old with abandonnt issues and a core that hums louder the more tired he gets.'
He didn't move. Not because he wanted the dragon to stay. But because he was ninety percent sure any sudden motion would wake it up. And then they'd have a very awake, very confused mini dragon with emotional baggage.
"I didn't do anything," he said.
Lira's eyes flicked up, unreadable. "Exactly."
That felt like it ant more than she was letting on.
He frowned. "You're saying doing nothing made it trust ."
"Yes."
Ren leaned in from the side, arms folded on her knees like she was watching a soap opera. "It curled up on you like a housecat. That's powerful energy, Lindarion."
"Don't say that like it's impressive."
"I'm impressed."
"You get impressed by shiny rocks."
"So of them are really shiny."
He pressed two fingers to his temple. The dragon shifted slightly in its sleep, curling tighter around the side of his boot. Its tail wrapped around his ankle like it was anchoring itself.
He glared down at it.
It didn't care.
Not even a little.
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