The egg appears to be predominantly black with what looks like an intricate dragon scale pattern etched across its surface in brilliant colors. From my vantage point, this egg appears significantly larger than the previous two deliveries.
I slowly back up closer to Klauth, moving carefully so as not to alarm Leander with my obvious concern. “Is it supposed to be that large?” I whisper urgently to the ancient dragon.
Callan’s and Vaughn’s eggs had been smaller than typical dragon eggs but larger than the shell that had contained my daughters when they were born. This one, however, seems to fall into an entirely different category altogether.
“With all the new species combinations being born in our family, everything we thought we knew has become uncertain,” Klauth murmurs back, his voice carrying the wisdom of centuries.
Yet despite his measured words, I can see that familiar look in his ancient eyes—the same concern that’s gnawing at my gut. He’s worried about Leander’s baby too, though neither of us wants to voice our fears aloud and potentially dampen the joy of this miraculous moment.
The size difference could mean many things, from perfectly normal variation to complications we haven’t encountered before. All we can do is watch, hope, and be ready to provide whatever support might be needed when this precious new life finally enters our world.
The eggeventually slides free from Mina’s body with a final powerful contraction, and Leander moves with lightning reflexes to catch it before it can hit the ground. His hands shake slightly as he cradles the substantial weight, and I can see the mixture of awe and overwhelming relief flooding his features.
Thauglor and Klauth approach immediately to inspect this last delivery, their ancient eyes studying every detail with practiced expertise. The shell’s intricate patterns seem to shift in the chamber’s lighting, revealing new depths of color and texture with each angle.
“It’s definitely like you, Leander,” Thauglor announces with a warm smile, resting his hand on my friend’s shoulder in a gesture of congratulation and reassurance. “The markings and size suggest strong nightmare heritage.”
The confirmation sends visible waves of emotion through Leander’s entire body, and I watch as years of patient waiting finally transform into the joy he deserves.
The ancients move to check on Mina’s condition while I help Leander carry his precious burden toward where the other new fathers have settled with their own eggs. The weight distribution between us makes the journey easier, and I can feel some of the tension leaving his shoulders.
“I have a practical question that we should probably address,” I announce, glancing from Callan to Vaughn as we arrangeourselves comfortably. “How long do the eggs of their respective species typically take to hatch?”
“About twenty-one days for gryphons,” Callan responds, making that distinctive happy whistling sound his shifted form usually produces. His hands glide over the shell’s surface with reverent care, his remaining eye bright with paternal wonder.
“If I remember correctly from my hatching stories, about thirty days or so for gargoyles,” Vaughn adds, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he adjusts his position while keeping his protective wings wrapped tightly around his egg.
“Lee, how long do mares typically carry foals?” I ask, though I suspect the answer might be difficult for him to hear.
“About a year,” he responds quietly, staring at his egg with an expression that mixes love with concern. He leans down to kiss the shell gently, the gesture speaking of bonds already forming.
Thankfully, Mina sleeps peacefully through this entire discussion, her massive form radiating contentment despite the marathon she’s just completed.
Klauth moves closer and rests his ancient hand on Leander’s egg with careful consideration. “It should hatch around the same time as the others, despite the size difference. Remember, it’s half dragon, and since a dragoness carried and laid the egg, it should follow our developmental timeline in theory.”
He looks meaningfully between all of us, then over to where Mina rests in her dragon form. “The maternal influence often supersedes paternal timing in mixed-species births.”
“I’d like to mention something that’s been worrying me,” I interject, looking between all the expectant fathers with seriousconcern. “How will we know when they’re ready to hatch? What are the signs we should watch for?”
The three dragons in our group visibly pale at the implications of my question, clearly realizing they hadn’t considered this crucial detail.
Callan smiles with the confidence that comes from species experience. “Gryphons are naturally born from eggs, so when my baby shows signs of hatching, we’ll watch the others closely for similar indicators. In the worst-case scenario, we help them break free if they need help.”
“Are we still operating on the forty-day timeline we discussed earlier?” Vaughn asks as he adjusts his wings again, making sure his egg remains perfectly positioned.
“Maybe?” Abraxis responds uncertainly, looking toward Thauglor and Klauth for their ancient wisdom.
“We’re honestly unsure at this point,” Klauth admits with characteristic honesty. “For now, let’s focus on getting the eggs and all the hatchlings settled into the nesting chamber so Mina can rest properly.”
He turns to address Abraxis with specific instructions. “Shift into your dragon form and remain in the main chamber with her. Don’t get too close to the nest area, just in case we need space to maneuver.”
The new fathers carefully pick up their precious eggs and begin the procession toward the egg chamber, moving with the reverent care typically reserved for priceless artifacts.
When I finally catch up to the group, I find Callan has shifted into his magnificent gryphon form and settled into the nest withall three eggs positioned against his warm body. He uses his beak with incredible gentleness to nudge the eggs into optimal positions before lowering his protective wing over them.
All of our other hatchlings file into the chamber in orderly fashion, arranging themselves around Callan or settling directly on his broad back. The sight of our existing children naturally accepting their role as protective older siblings fills my heart with pride.
“Daddy bird looks extremely happy,” I observe with a smile, watching one of my oldest friends settle in with the precious cargo from all three clutches.
