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The air reeks of sulfur and rot. Alex grips the sword, blade glinting in the dim glow of the dragon’s nest, while Steven’s pickaxe bites into the cavern wall—*again, again*—chips of stone scattering as passage inches wider. The egg pulses between them, warmth bleeding through its jagged shell. They don’t speak. No time. The dragon’s thunderous snarls shake the earth above, closer now, and the walls crawl with vines oozing virulent green. *Move. Faster.* A zombie lurches from the shadows, flesh bloated and glowing. Alex pivots, steel slicing through putrid muscle before it detonates—acid sprays, searing the ground. Steven doesn’t flinch. His pickaxe arcs, relentless, until the wall cracks open. Cold air floods in. Freedom. But the dragon’s shriek splits the dark. Alex meets Steven’s gaze—*now*—and drives the sword deep into the egg’s core. Golden light erupts. The cavern trembles. They run as the dragon’s roar curdles into a death-rattle, the horde’s explosions lighting their escape through the shattered tunnels. No looking back. Never again.
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