The chamber remained silent, but it was no longer the same silence that had existed before.
Earlier, the stillness had felt ancient and distant, like a place forgotten by time yet preserved by something beyond understanding. It had been heavy, almost oppressive in its depth, as though every corner of the space held secrets that refused to be revealed. Now, however, that silence had changed. It was no longer empty. It was no longer passive.
It was waiting.
Aether stood motionless in the dimly lit chamber, his hand still resting gently against the surface of the egg. The faint glow that surrounded it cast a soft illumination across his fingers, tracing the subtle lines of his hand and reflecting in his calm, focused gaze. For several moments, nothing seemed to happen, and yet he did not withdraw his touch.
Because he could feel it.
At first, it had been subtle—so faint that it could have been mistaken for imagination. But now, there was no doubt.
The egg responded.
