I didn’t know. I really didn’t.

  I shook my head, expecting trepidation to creep into my expression, expecting fear to lace my voice. But instead, my uncle simply smiled—an amused, almost delighted grin splitting his face.

  “You did it, then.” His voice was giddy, glib, practically vibrating with excitement. “You really brought one back.”

  He grabbed me, holding me tight in a rare show of genuine emotion. There was something feverish in his grip, a manic glee barely held in check.

  “I’m not even going to ask how you brought it back,” he admitted, his tone teetering between awe and exhilaration. “Frankly, I’m just thankful you’re back at all. What I am going to ask again is this—” he pulled back slightly, looking me in the eye, his expression shifting between his usual mad scientist fervor and something far sharper, more measured. “Any ideas? What did you slay for the Halls to reward you with anything?”

  His voice oscillated between three tones—the concerned yet comical uncle, the frenzied researcher on the verge of a breakthrough, and the ruthless drill instructor I had come to know all too well. It was an unsettling combination.

  I swallowed. “Just some… modge-podged beast. It had… a bird’s body? Yeah, best way to describe it would be a large black corvid. A wolf’s head, human arms, but with claws that were unnaturally long. And a fish’s tail.”

  I did my best to recall the twisted monstrosity that had stalked me through the Halls, my fingers unconsciously tightening into fists.

  Rodrick scowled, turning slightly as if digesting the information. His ears twitched. “A Cravener.” He exhaled sharply. “Boy, that tells me you didn’t sign a contract.”

  I blinked. “No… I wasn’t willing to pay the price.”

  Rodrick’s whole body stiffened. “What?” His voice dropped, a strange tension weaving into it. “No. No. You didn’t… you didn’t meet the same man as me, did you?” He was staring now, eyes flicking over me as if trying to read something beneath my skin. “No… this is good. And bad. But mostly good.”

  He began pacing, his mind clearly racing down a thousand different paths. His fingers drummed against his arm, his entire frame taut with thought. I let him stew in it for a moment, let him chase whatever fragmented theories were bouncing around his skull.

  Then, as if snapping back to reality, he shoved the egg toward me.

  “Here.”

  I barely managed to catch it, my arms tightening around the weight of the thing. Its shell was unlike anything I’d ever seen—blacks, blues, and golds swirling like ink dropped into water, constantly shifting, never settling into a solid form.

  Rodrick’s eyes glinted. “It’s not illegal to bring back Spirit Eggs from Otherrealms,” he said, his voice smug. “We’ll just say you were invited into a Dream-aspected gate while you slept.” He grinned. “Not even a complete lie, after all. You did.”

  I stared at him, dumbfounded. “And the staff?”

  “They’ve already seen the egg.” He gestured dismissively. “Luckily for you, you’re drenched in Dream-aspected miasma. The story checks out.”

  I looked down at the egg, at the way its surface rippled like a living thing. I swallowed.

  “But… what’s inside it?” My voice was smaller than I wanted it to be.

  Rodrick shrugged.

  “Who knows?” He let the words hang in the air. “I don’t. You don’t. None of the Gloss-Crystal identification programs do either. It’s an unknown Spirit Beast.”

  He leaned forward, his entire expression thrumming with exhilaration.

  “All we do know are its aspects: Crystal. Dream. Venom.” He counted them off on his fingers, his tail flicking behind him. “Everything else? A mystery. We can’t even predict the Arte.”

  Then, with pure, unfiltered glee, he turned to me, eyes bright with the hunger of a researcher on the verge of an unprecedented discovery.

  “As a scientist,” he said, nearly breathless, “I have to know.”

  His voice dropped to a whisper, his excitement curling around every syllable.

  “So hatch it.”

  “How?”

  Rodrick shook his head, exhaling through his nose in mild frustration. “This is exactly why I told your mother that coddling you wouldn’t create the kind of child you wanted to be. You’re inquisitive, curious—but you were sheltered beyond reason. Not that anyone else wouldn’t be in your situation, with their mother always by their side. Sometimes all of her.”

  His gaze softened, but only slightly. “Inject the egg with your mana, then infuse a drop of your miasma. When the two combine, it will bond the creature to you. Be prepared—we have no idea what it’s going to be.”

  I swallowed, staring at the swirling mass of colors within the egg’s shell. The shifting hues of black, blue, gold, and ink-like purple seemed to pulse in response, as if aware of what was about to happen.

  Taking a steadying breath, I closed my eyes and reached inward. I pictured my inner world—not the raw, unfocused thoughts that typically flooded my mind, but the true foundation of my being.

  A lone asteroid, floating in the endless void. At its center stood a sapphire-blue apple tree, its leaves a deep, iridescent emerald. The image came easily; it was as natural to me as breathing.

  My mana surged forth, pouring into the egg with little resistance. It was easy, effortless—like a stream finding its way home to the ocean.

  But my miasma? That was another matter entirely.

  It required conscious effort, a deliberate act of will. Unlike mana, which flowed freely, miasma was heavier, denser, reluctant to obey. It carried weight—the weight of what I had experienced, of what I had endured.

  I pressed deeper, drawing on the newfound fragments of my soul that had been reshaped within the Halls of books. The world I had envisioned before wasn’t fully formed, not yet. But pieces of it remained, scattered throughout my being.

  Asteroids drifted lazily around a small, radiant star—a star not of fire, but of paper. A brilliant, luminous sphere of folded light, its glow casting shifting patterns across the void. My Arte, my essence, manifesting in its purest form.

  As I pulled from it, guiding my miasma into the egg, I felt something stir. Something ancient. Something waiting. The egg trembled, cracks splintering across its surface like veins of lightning before it ruptured. A small hatchling emerged, its feathers a dazzling spectrum of yellow, purple, blue, and cyan. It shimmered like a living gemstone, light refracting off every inch of its delicate form. But what caught my attention most wasn’t just its breathtaking plumage—it was the mask.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Where the downy head of a typical bird should have been, there was instead an ethereal, shifting haze, coalescing into the shape of a mask. It was like a veil of aetherial smoke, curling and twisting as though caught in an unseen breeze. At certain angles, it almost resembled a hat, perched perfectly atop its small head.

  The hatchling let out a series of soft chirps, its tiny body pressing against my chest, and in that moment—I understood.

  Its chirps weren’t just sounds. They were words. Concepts. Feelings. The link between us had already formed, a bridge of thoughts and emotions running both ways. My mind was flooded with flashes of imagery—hunger, warmth, curiosity, the overwhelming newness of the world it had just hatched into.

  "Uncle," I said, my voice steady but tinged with urgency. "Do we have any obsidian?"

  I braced myself for an answer I might not like. If obsidian was difficult to obtain…

  “Obsidian?” Rodrick echoed, blinking before shrugging. “Yeah, plenty. Let me grab some for the hatchling.”

  He disappeared into his workshop, returning swiftly with a jagged piece of volcanic glass in hand. Without hesitation, he pressed it toward the small bird.

  The moment the obsidian was within reach, she lunged for it, devouring it with an eagerness that startled even me. I could feel her satisfaction ripple through our bond—warmth, delight, fulfillment. This was what she needed.

  She was showing me more images now—more food, places unknown, landscapes unfamiliar to me but utterly fascinating to her. The vastness of the world was already unraveling in her mind, and she wanted to see it all.

  For now, though, all I could do was hold her close, feel the rapid flutter of her heartbeat against my fingers, and wait. Wait as the residual miasma from the Halls continued to cycle through me, seeking the right core within me to settle into.

  “Time for the hard part, Alexander… you need to find a name she likes.” My uncle’s grin was downright mischievous, his excitement barely contained. Without another word, he turned on his heel and dashed off, giddy with anticipation, already gathering the proper tools to analyze her Arte.

  I barely registered his departure, my focus entirely on the small, prismatic creature nestled in my hands. She was still chirping, each note carrying a pulse of thought—curiosity, expectation, and something else. Something akin to patience, as if she were waiting for me to understand.

  A name. Not just any name. One that fit. One that resonated with her very being.

  I swallowed, my mind racing. "Alright, little one," I murmured, brushing a gentle thumb over her iridescent feathers. "Let's figure out who you are."

  ***

  I ran a hand over the small bird’s iridescent feathers, watching how the hues shifted under the light—golds, purples, blues, and cobalts, all shimmering like molten metal cooled into fractal beauty. She was a living gemstone, an impossible creature that had somehow hatched into my world. And yet, for all her brilliance, she was silent now, tilting her head as she waited.

  Waiting for something that only I could give her.

  A name.

  I had already gone through a dozen, each rejected with a slight shake of her head, a flicker of displeasure in our shared link. Pearl? No. Her colors weren’t soft, creamy, or delicate. Topaz? Also no. Too singular, too ordinary. Azure? She bristled at that one, feathers fluffing up in an indignant display. Clearly, she wanted something more fitting.

  Sighing, I leaned back, my thumb absently stroking her tiny head. “You’re picky,” I murmured, feeling her amusement trickle through the bond in response. “And stubborn.” Another flick of amusement.

  Fine. If she wanted the perfect name, I’d find it.

  But first, I needed to reassess myself.

  As I settled into meditation, my consciousness drifted inward, returning to my soulscape. The once-chaotic expanse of asteroids had changed. They were still there, drifting through the vastness of my inner world, but now they moved with more purpose. They weren’t just floating—they were interacting, colliding, merging. Small fragments began clumping together, slowly forming something more cohesive.

  My dimensional mana had strengthened. The absorbed miasma had settled into my core, fueling the growth of this internal realm. It wasn’t a planet yet, not like the one I had envisioned in the mirage field, but the pieces were coming together.

  Progress.

  It was a small, barely perceptible shift, but it was there. I wasn’t simply existing in this place—I was shaping it.

  That thought settled deep within me, solidifying like ink drying on parchment.

  When I finally pulled myself back to reality, my uncle had already come and gone, leaving a message on my comms crystal.

  “Well, we’ve identified the bird’s Arte. Bismuth Manipulation. Creator-type. She can generate and control bismuth from her own mana. We don’t yet know how long her creations will last—that’ll need testing. We’ve also narrowed down her species to one of five—if she were from a normal Otherrealm. She isn’t. However, we believe she’s related to the Weaverbird family. Expect her to want a nest at some point. Once you have a name for her, we’ll begin the process of registering her to your ID… along with your Machina.”

  I rolled the information over in my head. Bismuth Manipulation. That meant she wasn’t just some decorative little companion—she had power. A creator-type Arte meant she could generate something from nothing, an ability that few Spirit Beasts possessed. And if she was tied to the Weaverbird family, then her instincts would demand she build, craft, shape.

  I glanced down at her, still resting in my palm, her tiny claws gripping my fingers. The moment she saw me looking, she chirped—a single, clear note, full of expectation.

  "You know what I need to do, don’t you?" I asked, smirking.

  A flicker of approval resonated through our link.

  I shook my head, exhaling. “Alright, let’s try this again.”

  This time, I didn't just throw out random names. I studied her—the way her colors reflected, the way she preened her metallic feathers, the way she held herself with a quiet sort of pride. She wasn’t just radiant; she was sharp, structured, like the fractal formations of bismuth itself.

  “Ardent?” I tried.

  She tilted her head, considering it. But then, a faint wave of dissatisfaction.

  “Prism?”

  A firmer shake of the head.

  “Chroma?”

  A flicker of amusement, but still not quite right.

  I tapped my fingers against the wooden table, staring at the way her feathers gleamed under the lantern light. Bismuth. A metal that formed stair-like patterns as it cooled, fractals upon fractals. Order within chaos. A thing of beauty shaped by its own nature.

  “Fractal,” I murmured, testing the word on my tongue.

  The moment it left my lips, the link between us surged with something bright, something certain. She chirped, wings fluttering, and I felt it—acceptance.

  Fractal.

  A name that was both pattern and unpredictability, structure and spontaneity.

  “You like it,” I said, watching her reaction.

  Another chirp, this one more melodic, filled with warmth. Yes. She did.

  A smile tugged at the corner of my lips as I ran a finger along the smooth edges of her beak. “Alright, Fractal. Let’s get you registered.”

  As if on cue, my uncle burst into the room, carrying an assortment of tools and a comms crystal already buzzing with activity. “You named her?” he asked, grinning as he set everything down with a clatter.

  “Fractal,” I confirmed.

  Rodrick let out a bark of laughter. “Oh, that’s perfect. She’s gonna be a nightmare for bureaucratic paperwork.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

  “Because every time someone hears that name, they’re gonna assume she has a Space, Dimension, or Gravity mana type instead of Crystal one.” He smirked, waving a hand dismissively. “But that’s their problem, not ours.”

  Fractal, still perched on my hand, ruffled her feathers in what I could only assume was smug amusement.

  Rodrick pulled out a small identification device, pressing a few buttons before glancing up at me. “Alright, let’s get this sorted. Hold her close, channel a bit of mana into her, and let her do the same to you. This’ll officially register her as your bonded Spirit Beast.”

  I followed his instructions, feeling a soft pulse of energy pass between us. Fractal’s chirps turned to a low hum, her presence settling even deeper into my awareness. It was different than before—more solid, more permanent.

  The device beeped, and Rodrick let out a satisfied sigh. “And there we go. She’s officially yours.”

  I nodded, exhaling slowly. It was done.

  One step closer to the path I had chosen.

  One more piece falling into place.