There might be another way.
The thought had barely formed when three sharp knocks echoed through the office.
"Mr. Drakhal?" Isabelle's crisp voice cut through the mystical connection.
The cavern dissolved instantly, crimson light fading as Cyrus snapped back to reality. The egg felt ordinary again in his hands—warm obsidian, nothing more.
Kane stirred on the sofa, silver ears twitching at the sound. His golden eyes fluttered open, immediately searching for the egg.
"Cyrus? What—"
"It's fine," Cyrus murmured, quickly placing the egg back in its protective case. The wards hummed to life, concealing any trace of draconic energy.
Kane sat up, tails swishing with concern as he noticed Cyrus's tense posture.
"Sir?" Isabelle's voice came again, more insistent.
Cyrus straightened his tie and moved to the door, his expression shifting to its usual composed mask. The handle turned under his touch.
Isabelle stood in the doorway, tablet in hand, her ice-blue eyes sharp with urgency.
