The tunnel floor shivers with a deep, royal thrum. Beyond the ward, the black bend seems to inhale, as if something vast is testing the shape of your sanctuary.

Bracken flattens against the stone, then forces himself upright beside the glowing boundary. His eyes lock on the dark, warning the nest without looking back.

The ward light sharpens over the eggs. The newborn stirs, and the Scarred Knight shifts closer to the alcove, blade angled low, while the Broad Creature holds the outer tunnel like a gate.

The darkness answers with another pulse, closer now, and the bend begins to fill with a dragon's outline, massive and deliberate, claiming the path as its own.

The first dragon recoils into the seam of the wall, and the stone seems to drink him in. His black-green shape blurs, then thins to a shadow tucked between rock and ward-light.

The rival dragon halts at the bend, its outline sharpening against the dark. The tunnel air tightens around that silence, and the distant scraping sound scratches once more from deeper within.

The Scarred Knight lowers his stance beside the alcove, blade ready, while the newborn dragon presses closer to the pale eggs. The ward keeps burning bright, but its edge flickers at the rival's shadow.

The rival dragon leans forward at the threshold of the bend, testing the boundary with its gaze. The first dragon remains hidden in the stone, waiting, while the sanctuary holds its breath.

The first dragon launches from the wall-shadow in a black-green streak, body low and silent, jaws open for the rival’s throat.

His teeth clamp home beneath the rival’s jaw. The big shape jerks hard, stone dust spilling from the bend as the ward flashes bright behind them.

A crackling green-white discharge snaps through the rival’s neck and shoulder. It rears back with a strangled roar, driven off the threshold.

The rival dragon twists free, leaving a torn strip of shadow and a spray of sparks where the ward bites its hide. It backs toward the dark bend, shaken and suddenly wary.

The first dragon turns his attention through stone and ward alike, and the air between him and the bend tightens like a held breath.

A green-black pulse strikes outward, silent and absolute. The rival dragon jerks back in the dark, its confidence shattered by the удар of чужд? no, by the shock that blooms inside its skull.

The tunnel answers with a flash of green-white static along the ward line, then settles into a colder glow. Dust sifts from the ceiling, but the boundary holds.

From the bend, the rival dragon scrapes backward into deeper black, shaken and suddenly cautious. Bracken and the Broad Creature do not advance, they only harden their stances, guarding the line the shock has just defended.