Morning came cold and clear over the Ironmane settlement.
The Pride's diplomatic vessel waited at a makeshift dock: sleek, fast, designed for ocean crossings. Beastfolk sailors moved across its deck with practiced efficiency, loading supplies and checking rigging.
Owen stood at the water's edge, watching preparations. Behind him, the group gathered their belongings.
"Three days to the elven continent," Sael said, appearing at his side. "Fair winds, assuming the weather holds."
"And if it doesn't?"
"Then four days. Or five. The ocean doesn't care about our schedules." She looked at him with those amber eyes. "You're carrying something new. I can feel it."
Owen didn't bother denying it. "The fragment. It changed things."
"How?"
He told her about the Hatchery. About its pulsing life. About what the third fragment would mean.
Sael listened without interruption. When he finished, she was quiet for a long moment.
