The door to his private room clicked shut, sealing Jonah in with his secret. He stood in the center of the plush carpet, held gently in his hands. The train moved on, silent and steady, but inside Jonah's world, an earthquake was about to happen.
This was it. The moment of truth. Was he a dud with a weird tattoo, or was he something more?
He then sat on the floor, crossing his legs. He placed the heavy egg in his lap, its pale, smooth shell cool against his palms. Closing his eyes, he retreated into the dark workshop of his mind.
The three motes of brownish Ant soldier Essence were still there, swirling like lazy dust bunnies. The space was otherwise empty, a black canvas waiting for a subject.
First things first. He needed to get the egg from his lap into the workshop. He focused on the physical weight of the egg, its size, its shape. Then, he focused on the empty space in his mind. With a surge of will, he imagined the egg leaving his hands and appearing inside the void.
He felt a strange, dizzying sensation, like the world had tilted for a second. When he opened his eyes, his lap was empty. The egg was gone.
He instantly closed his eyes again, diving back into his mental space.
There it was. Floating in the center of the dark void was the Gale-Strider egg, glowing with a soft, internal white light. It looked like a tiny moon hanging in a private galaxy.
A smile spread across Jonah's face. He could do it. He could move things into his workshop.
Now for the hard part. The synthesis.
He took a deep mental breath and focused on the three motes of Ant soldier Essence. With another act of will, he guided them, pushing them through the mental space toward the glowing egg. The process was surprisingly intuitive, like he was born knowing how to do it. It felt less like magic and more like art, as if he were a sculptor guiding his clay.
As the essences drew closer to the egg, a dull headache began to bloom behind his eyes. It wasn't a sharp pain, but a heavy, draining pressure. His power was costing him something. Stamina. Concentration.
The first brown mote touched the glowing egg. It didn't bounce off; it dissolved, spreading across the shell like a drop of brown ink in water. The second mote followed, then the third.
As the last of the essence was absorbed, a new message flashed in his mind, sharp and clear.
` [Begin Synthesis?] `
` [Genesis Core: Gale-Strider Egg (Avian)] `
` [Essence: Ant soldier (Earthen, Fortitude)] `
` [WARNING: Synthesis is mentally taxing. Proceed?] `
This was the final confirmation. Avian and Earthen. Air and rock. The combination sounded bizarre, impossible. But it was his only shot.
Yes, he thought, pushing the command forward with all his focus. Proceed.
The moment he gave the command, the glowing egg in his mind flared with a brilliant light. The headache intensified, Pounding like a drum in his skull. The egg soaked up the essence until it glowed with brown-gold light. A glowing shell wrapped around it, gently pulsing like a tiny heartbeat.
Another message appeared, the last of its strength seemingly spent.
` [Synthesis Complete. Incubation Time: 1 Hour] `
Jonah's eyes flew open. He gasped, the mental strain hitting his physical body all at once. He felt utterly drained, as if he'd just run for miles. He stumbled to his feet and collapsed onto the bed, his limbs heavy as lead.
Exhausted, but exhilarated.
The next hour was the longest of his life. He was too wired to sleep, too tired to move. He just lay there, eyes closed, focused on the cocoon in his mind. He could feel it. He could feel the life inside it, a tiny, contained storm of change and creation. It was a bizarre and wonderful sensation.
He tracked the time by the rhythmic pulse of the cocoon. It was a slow, steady clock counting down to his future.
Then, after what felt like an eternity, he heard it. Not with his ears, but with his mind.
Crack.
It was the sound of fine porcelain breaking. He focused on the cocoon. A thin, hairline fracture of light appeared on its surface. Another crack appeared, then another, spreading across the golden-brown shell like a spiderweb.
With a final, silent burst of energy, the cocoon shattered into a thousand motes of light, which quickly faded away.
Floating in its place was a creature.
It wasn't a bird, and it wasn't an ant. It was something new. Something he had made.
It had the small, compact body of a hatchling bird, but instead of soft down, it was covered in fledgling feathers that had the dull, stony gray sheen of Cinderfall slate. Its legs were thick and sturdy, ending in sharp little talons. Its beak, though small, was black and looked unnaturally sharp. It tilted its head, its intelligent, beady black eyes blinking slowly.
A final, triumphant message blazed in Jonah's mind.
` [Progeny Created: Stone-Feather Hatchling (Grade 1)] `
` [Skills: Peck, Fortified Feathers (Passive)] `
An unbreakable connection snapped into place. He felt the creature's presence in his mind, not as an intruder, but as an extension of himself. He could feel its curiosity, its strength, its absolute and unwavering loyalty. He was its creator, its master, its entire world.
A wave of emotion washed over him—pride, relief, and a fierce, protective instinct. This tiny, stony bird was his. His creation. His power. His secret.
He needed a name for it. Something that fit its appearance. Something strong and simple.
Rook, he thought, directing the name at the creature.
In his mind, the Stone-Feather Hatchling chirped, a sound that was surprisingly deep and resonant, like stones clicking together.
Jonah lay on the bed, a slow, genuine smile spreading across his face for the first time since he'd left home. The train was still speeding toward the Mystic Pheonix Academy, toward the tests and the teachers who would judge him. They thought he was a dud. A failure.
Let them.
He was no longer just Jonah from the dust heap. He was a creator. And in the empty room of the silent train, he was not alone.