I Married the Stone Egg My Fiancé Gave Me

I was born with the power to breathe souls into every living thing, yet no one ever cared because I'm the weakest beastkin in my family. A lovebird, my fiancé, a phoenix, gave me an iron egg to get out of our bonding contract. He said if I could hatch it, he'd go through with the bonding ceremony, but he has no clue this iron egg holds the Dragon King, and I'm destined to become the dragon's bride because of it. The ceremony is set for next year; the family has already started preparations. "Our bonding ceremony, I'd like to push it back. " "Why? " He shrugs. sighs. "The Academy's been keeping me occupied. " Performative. tired. "I simply don't have the bandwidth for a bonding. " Everyone knows that is an excuse. My stepfather's brow creases. "Lord Whittemore, you're aware the Vanguard retrieved void crystals from the Voidlands on their last expedition. "Our research isn't finished. If Rin could help shoulder some of my workload, I'd certainly find time for the ceremony. My stepfather's eyes light up; he smells opportunity. Name your terms, she will comply. Neither of them asks me—I'm furniture. Avians are natural nesters, aren't they? Consider it playing to your strengths. Reynard opens his spatial pouch and places an egg in my hands. If you manage to hatch it, I might even put your name in my next paper. Muffled laughter from the other beastkin at the table. He handed her a rock and called it a test. Avians are natural nesters, aren't they? Should be easy for her. He's an Arp Magister and an Apex Phoenix. The Whitmores were the ones reaching above their station. Reynard's lips curl, lazy, selfsatisfied. If a hatchling comes out, I can apply for a new research champ. We'll hold the ceremony then. A fool's errand; he knows it, everyone knows it. I look down at the egg in my arms, cold to the eye, but under my fingers, hard as iron. I lay my palm flat against the shell. Warm light flows from my hand into the egg, soft. Under the amused, pitying stares of every beast kin in the room, I answer fine. But there's something I haven't told any of them, I am one of the rarest things in all of Ethermord, a soul mender.

I'm brought to a private sitting room. The moment I push open the door and see Crown Prince Demon, something clicks into placesilverwhite hair, cropped short, heterochromatic eyes, cold underneath. He lounges on the sofa like he owns gravity itself. "Lady Wen, forgive the sudden summons. I just have one questionthat egg, where did you get it? " "This? This is my son. Pebble. " He blinks, repeats himself slower this time. "Your son? "You... laid this? Someone gave it to me. I've been caring for him for weeks, close enough to count his mind. Here, would your highness like to hold him? Demon opens his mouth, closes it, swallows whatever he was about to say. He takes Pebble with both hands, stiff, terrified of dropping it. Pebble shakes harder in Demon's arms. I snatch it back, soothe it gently. Demon watches, expression unreadable. Do you know what this egg is? I tilt my head, some kind of large bird maybe. A knock at the door interrupts us. Your Highness, still no word on Commander Solaris. A night patrol has been dispatched to sweep the outer perimeter of the Voidlands. Call off the search. A slow breath, a quiet cough. I found him.

I take the egg home. My stepfather assumes I'm desperate to marry Reynard, so desperate I'd accept an impossible task. "Wern, just put your heart into it. Renwick will come around. " I turn and walk to my room. Why would I want a preening phoenix to be moved by me? But this egg is different. Aether flows from my core, wrapping the shell like a hot spring. Golden light soaks through, gentle, dense. Reynard mentioned the Academy's healers tried everything—not a flicker of response. But right now, in my arms, the egg shifts. Trying to come out already? I poke it gently, as if it heard me. What should I call you? The egg goes perfectly still, quiet, obedient, better behaved than any male I've ever met. I think for a long time, then testing the waters. Pebble, it rolls away, actively trying to escape. I grab it. Listen. Pebble, I'm going to raise you right, and in return, you're gonna look after me when I'm old and gray. Every night after that, I shift into beast form, sing the old nesting song of the avian clans, and tuck the egg against my chest, wings folded tight around it. Warm, safe. That night, the servants are buzzing. Crown Prince Damon, missing for half a month, has been recovered by the Imperial Guard, battered, covered in wounds, but conscious. However, the one who went into the Voidlands with him, Commander Castor Selnaros, is still missing. Castor is the youngest commander in the Empire's history; almost nothing is known about him, only that he's Daemon's sworn brother. No one knows the true nature of House Selnaros; no one knows his past. The speculation runs wildan ancient lineage, immeasurable power. Some whisper that Selnaros is a surname belonging to a species long extinct. The moment the servants mention Pastor's disappearance, the egg in my arms lurches violent, frantic, I assume it's just the usual movement, but after I fall asleep on that shell hard as iron for weeks, a hairline crack appears.

The next day, I'm walking with Pebble in my arms when I run into Reynard and his colleagues from the Arcane Academy. A flock of sparrows would hold a more dignified assembly. Renette, is this your weak little fiancé? Utterly foolish, she's actually trying to incubate a rock. Remnant, how did you get her so wrapped around your talon? I walked past them without a glance. Reynard calls after me, "Rin. " He tilts his head. almost wistful. "I didn't realize you were this devoted. It's almost touching. " "Move. " "Wint, how about this? I can see you've been working hard. If that egg shows even a single crack, I'll agree to the ceremony. "Are you deaf back off. know your place, wink, you are bound to me. Lord Whitmore has clearly been far too lenient. That's the only explanation for your manners. He opens his mouth to continue, a carriage bearing the royal crest descends from the sky, slow, silent, unmistakable. The onlookers exchange glances; someone wh. istles. Reynard laughs broadly and confidently, strides forward, ready to greet them with his most practiced charm. The crown does move fast. Two attendants in imperial livery step out, walk right past him. Reynard freezes. They stop in front of meLady Rint, Crown Prince Damon requests your presence.

Demon sends me home in a royal escort. The moment I step out of the carriage, my stepfather rushes forward not to greet me but to fawn over the attendants behind me. "Wern is always causing trouble. Please convey to His Highness if he ever has a free moment, our home is always open. " Laughable! What crown prince would set foot in this dumpy lower my eyes and push past them? When? Who sent you home? Was that the crown prince? I let my voice shrink to the timid, harmless version they've always expected. I just got hit by the royal carriage by accident. His highness felt bad. so he gave me a ride home. I knew it; a lovebird remick won't even look at as if the crown prince would give her the time of day. Back in my room, I eased Pebble out of my satchel when Demon handed it back to me earlier. His expression was the most serious I've ever seen from him. This egg just became something far bigger than a research specimen, but Damon doesn't tell me what Pebble is. And I don't ask. Some knowledge comes with a death sentence. When I wipe the shell clean that night, I find ita crack, hairline thin, unmistakable. Panic, sharp and instant. I rush the egg to the Healer's Hall in the dead of night. My Healer's token gets me past the door. The apprentice on night shift is half asleep at the desk. I slip Pebble into a healing cradle and activate the diagnostic runes before anyone notices. Private use of the Hall's equipment is strictly forbidden. But formal admission means registering Pebble's information. That's not an option. This recovery room is tucked at the end of the corridor. Hardly anyone comes down here. I set Pebble into the cradle. Crack, I stop breathing.

I cup his face in both hands, baby, slow, patient. Say mama, enunciating every syllable. He gazes at me gentle, shakes his head. Come on, I refuse to give up. Repeat after meyour name, Peb Bull. He turns away, probably embarrassed. Pebbles still can't speak. Stranger yet, I can't understand his calls either. The only option is a familiar stone for basic translation, but I'm broke. The stone's magic is almost drained, and it keeps glitching. Are you hungry? You want something to eat? He curves his beak into a gentle smile, nods. My familiar stone translates. I stare at the stone. Familiar stones are masterwork artifacts. They can translate virtually every known beastkin language. What is Pebble? If even a familiar stone can't process his speech, he might not exist in the Empire's species registry at all. I send Demon a note via ink script. One word comes backHe's still handling affairs in the outer territories. One more day, then he'll send someone for Pebble. The Imperial Patrol has been unusually active lately. I overhear Aldus telling the servants they're searching for humans, remembering my conversation with Demon. It clicks. His condition can't wait. He needs to find a human to stay alive. For now, Pebble comes home with me, hidden. He just finished eating, nestled in my arms. Nuzzling against my downy feathers, content. Pebble grows like he is fueled by wildfire. At this rate, he'll be speaking by tomorrow. I lay both hands on him for one last soul mending session. Newborn hatchlings can't regulate their own soul energy, bird types especially, prone to volatile outbursts. All right, sleep now. Maybe tomorrow you'll find your voice. He settles into the little nest I built for him, lined with down feathers and a pink cotton blanket. Babies like cute things. I tuck the blanket around him, kiss his forehead. His breathing quickens. From outside the room, my stepfather's voice. You're out here.

In the silent room, the fracturing grows sharper, faster. Then a small inkblack creature wriggles out of the shell. It shakes its downy feathers, looks up. We stare at each other in silence. My shoulders slump, deep disappointment. All those weeks of incubation, and you're just a black chicken. Flaps its tiny wings, can't speak yet. Newborn Pebble is frail, exhausted from the effort of breaking free. I sigh and channel soul energy into its small body. Golden warmth wraps around it. Pebble's eyes drift shut. It curls into a ball. Once it's asleep, my own eyelids grow heavy. Soul mending drains everything. Even just those few minutes leave me barely functional. When I open my eyes again, sunlight floods the room. Someone draped a blanket over me. I jolt upright. A talon extends from beside me. A water cup hooked on the tip. I take it. Stare. A jetblack male bird sits in the chair watching me. Calm, docile, still juvenile, but far too large for something that hatched hours ago. Who are you? He points at the broken shell on the floor. My voice pitches up. Pebble. His body stiffens for a split second. I grab him, turn him over, examine every angle. He looks nothing like the black chickens I've seen one night. How did he grow this much in one night? Did someone slip you a growth tonic?