Thovik plants one claw in the tunnel floor and leans close to the ward mist, his huge shadow cutting across the eggs. He speaks low, urgent, as if the stone itself might overhear.

He draws back a fraction, the blue plates of his chest rising and falling too fast for calm. The Elder Knight tightens his grip near his hilt, eyes fixed on the dragon rather than the dark.

The Elder Knight shifts one step forward, suspicion hard in his face, waiting for Erma's answer before he either bars Thovik or lets the gamble begin.

Erma lets the blessing gather in his throat and between his claws, then sends it outward in a soft, deliberate wave. The stone-colored mist at the ward turns bright for a breath, and three sets of scales answer the call, silver-green and fine as new leaves over knightly skin.

The Elder Knight looks down at his hands as the new scales knit across his knuckles. The Scarred Knight bares one shoulder to the light, steady as if receiving a badge. The Fighter-Butcher stirs once, then falls still, his breathing easing as the blessing settles over him too.

Along their spines, the first glimmer of dragon shape takes hold, not fully formed, but unmistakable. Their shadows lengthen with a faint, scaled edge, and the ward mist brightens around them as if recognizing kin.

Thovik draws in a sharp breath, watching the trio with sudden, guarded respect. Behind them, the hatchling lifts its head and stares wide-eyed at the new shimmer on the ward.

Erma seals the order into the ward and the tunnel answers at once. The mist around the nest thickens, then settles into a steady cloak as if the command itself has become part of the stone.

Bracken and the Broad Creature both shift into clearer sentry postures, one at the tunnel edge and one deeper in shadow. The hatchling keeps staring, transfixed, while the eggs give a faint answering shimmer.

Somewhere beyond the bend, the distant scraping sound returns, colder and closer. The wardlight flickers under the mist, but the guardians do not move from their posts.

Erma’s command rolls through the breach like held thunder, and every sentry hears it. The scraping beyond the bend stops short, cut off mid-rake.

The Elder Knight tightens his stance at the ward line, while the Scarred Knight lowers his chin and listens. Bracken and the Broad Creature go motionless in their shadows.

The wardlight steadies to a soft green-white pulse. The eggs shimmer once, then calm under the mist.

From the far bend, the unseen noise fades into watchful distance. Thovik turns one eye toward Erma, waiting for the next order, while the hatchling keeps its bright, awed stare fixed on him.

Erma’s command settles the question before doubt can spread. The wardens look to the dark bend, then to him, and the line breaks into motion.

The Elder Knight gives one sharp nod and shifts his grip, sending the Scarred Knight and Bracken into the lead with the Broad Creature shadowing the rear.

The Newborn Dragon lifts its head, bright-eyed, as if the whole tunnel has become a lesson in watchfulness. The eggs give a faint answering shimmer under the mist.

Thovik lowers his chin to Erma once, respectful and grim, then turns into the bend with the others at his heels. The unseen dark waits ahead for their eyes.