Cire looked at the metallic, pulsing egg. 'This is strange. It seems like its surface changes. It looks metallic, but it shifts every time. I should ask Praesul.' The young man felt an undeniable attraction to the egg. 'This sensation… it feels very similar to the temple in the cave. Yes, I need to take it; it feels necessary. It feels… primordial.'
Cire reached out, his hand trembling slightly. As his finger touched the strange surface of the egg, a bolt of pure energy surged from it into his flow of Virtus, burning his body. He cried out, staggering back. The energy spun wildly inside his body, chaotic yet familiar. It wasn't Virtus—at least, not entirely. Cire fought to control it, but its erratic nature made it impossible. The power surged back into the egg, and its pulsing light dimmed. The Virtus connection vanished, leaving the egg seemingly inert.
Breathing heavily, Cire stared at it. 'This situation is bizarre. Praesul told me that Sigils don't use skills unless they benefit them. So why were those wolves using fireballs, and that horrendous Sigil was fighting with its body?' Cire frowned. 'Maybe it didn't see the wolves as a threat and aimed for the egg… or was protecting it. But why would a Sigil care about an egg?' He recalled the strange sight: the wolves—usually mindless attackers—had turned their attention to the Locked Sigil, fighting it desperately as though protecting something. Their ferocity was unlike anything he'd seen. The Locked Sigil, in turn, seemed equally intent on overpowering them, its movements relentless. 'Were they fighting over the egg? But why?'
Cire shook his head. 'I won't get my answers here. I should go back.'
Cire dismissed his thoughts, grabbing the dead wolf by its ankle with one hand and carrying the now-quiet egg in the other. The descent back to the cave was grueling. Balancing the wolf's body while keeping the egg safe was no easy task. His arms ached, and his legs threatened to give out. Still, he pressed on. He reached the stone door and entered, cursing himself for forgetting to close it before leaving. 'Surely Praesul hasn't noticed… surely…' But his confidence waned as he closed the passage behind him.
Once inside, he looked for Praesul, checking behind the waterfall, and checked again his quarters, but the man was nowhere to be found. Then he felt it—a strong pulse emanating from the temple. 'He must be there.'
Leaving the wolf's body near his room, Cire approached the temple, the egg cradled in his arms. The pull to enter the temple was overwhelming, almost hypnotic, but Praesul's warnings echoed in his mind, keeping him from stepping through. The burning sensation returned, stronger this time, spreading through his fingertips. He glanced down at the egg. It was pulsing again, but differently—its surface shimmered with shifting colors as if alive. The egg's form began to change. One moment, it appeared massive, the following small, but its weight and shape in his hands remained constant.
Cire staggered, unsure if the changes were real. Shapes flickered before his eyes—tendrils of light, shadows of creatures, landscapes he didn't recognize. These are illusions,… he realized, gripping the egg tighter. Yet the visions were so vivid that his heart raced. Finally, he placed the egg on the ground, breaking contact. The illusions ceased, and the egg went still, its pulse fading to a soft glow.
Footsteps echoed behind him. Praesul emerged from the temple, his presence commanding and cold.
"Boy, this is the last time I'll tell you to stay away from the temple. You will die," Praesul said, his glowing purple eyes narrowing as he looked at Cire.
Cire, startled, tried to deflect. "Don't tell me you're angry I didn't bring dinner."
Praesul's tone remained sharp. "You'd better not have failed. What did you bring?"
Cire motioned to the wolf's body. "A wolf. And… I found this." He lifted the egg carefully and held it out for Praesul to see. "I think it might be a wolf egg. Some wolves were fighting a horrendous creature; I think it was a Locked Sigil."
Praesul froze, his body stiffening. A low, guttural sound escaped from under his mask, a mix of a growl and a sigh. "Boy, you truly are a fool. Wolves do not make eggs."
Cire smirked internally.'I knew it.'
Praesul's tone turned serious. "You did well not confronting that Sigil. If you're wondering how I know you hid, it's because you'd be dead if it sensed you."
Cire nodded, recalling the creature's terrifying speed and lightning attacks.
"Hand me the egg." Praesul took it from Cire's hands, examining it carefully. After a few moments, he grunted and handed it back. "This egg is now yours. If you train diligently, it will hatch." He then smacked the back of Cire's head. "And next time you leave the entrance open, I'll let the Sigils feast on you."
Cire muttered an apology and turned to fetch the wolf's body, but Praesul stopped him.
"And I expect that wolf skinned, boy," Praesul said, his tone unyielding.
Cire cursed under his breath and went to his room, placing the egg gently on his bed before grabbing a dagger. "Of course, you won't show me how it's done. What an insufferable master I have," he muttered with a grin as he began skinning the wolf.
From the shadows behind the waterfall, Praesul watched silently. "That egg is a rare and wonderful gift," he murmured. "But only time will reveal what creature will hatch."