Queen Serathis stood at the entrance of the hatching cavern, her massive form casting a shimmering, silver shadow over the eggs nestled in the frost-laden nest. The cold air around her swirled with her icy breath, the temperature dropping further as she inhaled deeply. Her heart, though hardened by years of loss, beat with the softest flicker of warmth for the life that was about to emerge from the last remnants of her beloved Fervor.

The golden-scaled king had been her strength, her equal in every way, and the father to the eggs now trembling before her. These eggs, these small, fragile things, were all that remained of his legacy, and she had guarded them fiercely. Now, with a crack echoing in the silence, the first of them began to hatch.

Serathis leaned closer, her massive eyes narrowing as she watched a small claw break through the shell, followed by a delicate, frost-tinted wing. A soft rumble, a sound so rare from her lips, vibrated through the cavern. It was a sound of welcome, of love—though love had become a foreign thing to her since the loss of her mate.

Her long, graceful neck extended as she gently nuzzled the cracked egg, encouraging the hatchling within. "Come, little one," she whispered, her voice a low, melodic hum that carried the weight of centuries. "Come into this world and claim your place among the Brozen Dragons, my child. You are the last gift of your father, King Fervor. His strength, his fire, is in your veins, though you may breathe the cold as I do. You are of both worlds now—gold and silver, fire and ice."

Another crack, then another, as more eggs began to shudder and splinter open. One by one, the hatchlings emerged, their scales a mixture of shimmering frost and faint traces of gold, a perfect blend of their parents. Serathis’ heart clenched, a rare sensation for the queen who had long buried her emotions beneath the weight of duty. But in this moment, seeing her children—Fervor’s children—take their first breaths, the cold armor around her soul softened.

"You will be strong,