The wind screamed across the cliffs.
Cold ocean air rolled over the jagged rocks of the lonely island, carrying the scent of salt and distant storms. Hundreds of meters below, the northern sea smashed itself endlessly against black stone.
High above the waterline, nestled in a hollow worn into the cliff face, a single egg trembled.
A crack split its dark shell.
Then another.
The egg shuddered violently as something inside pushed outward with growing strength.
With a sharp snap, the shell finally broke apart.
A small creature tumbled onto the cold stone.
For several seconds it lay there, breathing hard, the thin membranes of folded wings twitching weakly at its sides.
Cold wind rushed through damp fur.
The hatchling's enormous ears quivered.
Slowly—very slowly—its eyes opened.
Golden irises narrowed into thin vertical slits as they adjusted to the harsh daylight.
The creature lifted its head.
What emerged from the broken egg was clearly not a typical dragon.
Even as a hatchling, its body carried the unmistakable outline of something built for the night sky.
Jet-black fur covered most of its small form, blending with patches of tougher scale-like hide that protected its chest and limbs. A soft purple hue ran along its belly and lower jaw, continuing faintly across the trailing edges of its folded wings.
The wings themselves were still small, their membranes crumpled and damp from the egg—but even now their color was striking.
Turquoise.
Even in the dim coastal light, the membranes shimmered faintly as if they held a piece of the night sky within them.
The hatchling shifted weakly.
Two long wing-fingers flexed as the membranes stretched slightly, revealing the segmented structure of the wings. Tiny red claws protruded from the joints, already sharp enough to grip stone.
A thin tail slid behind it, longer than the rest of its body and ending in two small spine-like points.
The creature tried to push itself upright.
Its hind legs wobbled but held.
Strong for something only minutes old.
Two-toed feet with crimson claws scraped lightly against the rock as it steadied itself.
Then the hatchling looked down.
And froze.
…Those are claws.
The thought came clearly—far too clearly for something that had just been born.
More memories surged behind it.
A road slick with rain.
Blinding headlights.
The scream of twisting metal.
Then darkness.
Until now.
The hatchling swallowed slowly and lifted one forelimb closer to its face.
Black fur.
Scaled joints.
A folded wing connected to the limb like a bat's.
Its eyes widened.
That's… not normal.
As it moved, something brushed against the sides of its head.
The creature turned slightly—and only then noticed the enormous ears rising above its skull.
Even as a hatchling they were absurdly large, teardrop-shaped structures nearly half the length of its body. Thin black rings circled the inner surface of the ears like natural markings.
They twitched constantly, catching every whisper of sound.
Wind over rock.
Seabirds overhead.
The distant roar of waves far below.
The amount of information flooding into its senses was overwhelming.
Instinctively, the hatchling opened its mouth and released a short, chirping pulse.
The sound shot outward—far beyond what human ears could hear.
A heartbeat later the echoes returned.
Suddenly the world changed.
The cliffs appeared in its mind as shapes made of sound.
Distances.
Angles.
Movement.
The hatchling stiffened.
Echolocation…
The realization made its stomach drop.
Slowly, carefully, the creature leaned over the small pool of rainwater that had collected in the stone nest.
Its reflection stared back.
A small bat-like dragon.
Black fur.
Purple underbelly.
Turquoise wings.
A red V-shaped horn beginning to form on the snout.
Yellow slit-pupiled eyes.
The hatchling stared at the reflection for a long moment.
Then it sighed.
A very human sigh.
…Well.
That's new.
The wind rushed over the cliff again, stirring the thick tuft of pale fur beginning to grow around the hatchling's neck like a small mane.
Far below, waves crashed endlessly against the rocks.
Above, seabirds circled.
The small dragon lifted its wings slightly and looked out across the vast northern ocean.
Forty years before the age of dragon riders—
something had just hatched that the world had never seen before.
And it was going to have to learn very quickly how to survive.