The sun scorched the earth as if the celestial mother, Gün Ana, had grown furious.
A lone crane soared across the sky, its wings glinting defiantly against the searing light.
Trees withered, their leaves curling into brittle husks, and some trees even began to burn from the inside. It felt as though the sun itself had descended upon the land. And yet, within the depths of the cave, not a trace of that unbearable heat could be felt.
Kutbike lay weak and writhing in pain. Her breath came in broken gasps as Baksı Kurgana, the elder cyclops, murmured to herself while carving runes into the walls of the cave. With each pause in her chanting, the agonizing pain in Kutbike's body seemed to ease, if only for a moment.
She was nearly done. As she carved the final few runes, she called out, "Kutbike, hold on just a little longer," her voice weathered but steady. Then, with a final stroke, the last rune was etched.
With a weary tone, she whispered two ancient words: "Ezgin" and "Savgu." As the syllables left her cracked lips, a spring-like aura enveloped the cave. Kutbike's face, drained of all energy, found a fleeting moment of peace.
Baksı Kurgana approached and gently placed her calloused hand upon Kutbike's swollen belly. "You've nourished this egg with your very life for five long years. I know there's little strength left in you. But we are at the final moment. It will all be worth it. For your child."
Though cyclopes were masters of Tilbuyruk—the magic of the spoken word—even such divine powers came at a cost. If rest is neglected, overuse can shatter even the strongest soul.
Kutbike's pain dulled for a moment. Her bloodshot eyes slowly opened to meet Baksı Kurgana's and with a deep breath, she murmured, "May Umay Ana guide me!" before straining to push the egg forth.
Even for a dragon, sharing her life force for five years had left her utterly drained, unable to swat even a fly.
Fortunately, the runes carved into the cavern's walls had a purpose: they channeled Kutöz—the sacred essence of the land—through the mountain and into Kutbike.
Still, the power came at a cost. Just like Tilbuyruk, the use of these runes demanded sacrifice. Though less taxing on the soul, it strained the mind and siphoned the life essence from surrounding creatures. Even though the energy targeted Kutbike, it meant the ecosystem around her was drained, leaving her unable to pull directly from nature.
The glowing runes pulsed with ancient light as Kutbike pressed on with the birth, groaning through the pain. Hours passed, and at last, half the egg had emerged.
Baksı Kurgana's face, already etched with the lines of centuries, seemed to grow even older by the hour. Her gnarled hands trembled. "Almost there. May Umay Ana guard you both," she whispered.Managing the runes for so long had taken its toll.
Kutbike was at her very limit—blood had begun to stream from her eyes. As if her exhaustion wasn't enough, the heat outside had grown so intense that even the cave felt as though it might catch fire.
Wildfires raged in the forests beyond. A land that had only recently reclaimed its peace was now drowning once more in disaster. The animals, once drawn back to these ancient grounds, fled as if never to return.
And yet, amid the chaos, a single bird defied it all—a crane soaring in proud, defiant circles beneath the wrathful sun. Its white feathers shimmered with the fury of the heavens.
By the dawn of the second day, the sky was stained the color of blood. The heat had reached levels no ordinary creature could endure.
The lake near the cave had all dried up already, leaving behind only shards of fallen meteorite.
The trees were reduced to ash. And spirits of the animals, whether too slow to escape or too proud to flee, were not spared—the sun's wrath reduced even their soul to dust.
The earth had turned black, like obsidian and even the mountain sheltering the cave had begun to crack, despite the wards laid upon it by Karasungur's magic.
And yet, above it all, untouched and unbothered, the crane flew. It soared high and proud, as if mocking the heavens, its wings spread wide in a celestial defiance. It was a vision of pure grace, a being that seemed to belong more to the divine than to the scorched earth below.
Meanwhile inside the cave Baksı Kurgana's throat had gone dry, her breath ragged and her legs were trembling like leaves in a storm.
But Kutbike was in even worse shape—her consciousness hung by a thread. She bit her tongue just to stay awake, whispering silent prayers to Tengri.
The moment of birth drew close—seconds away—when disaster struck. Cracks raced across the cave walls as some of the runes were damaged, the entire system faltering.
Baksı Kurgana's knees buckled. Blood filled her mouth as she screamed with a trembling voice, "Erlik Han 's breath has tainted this birth! The runes won't hold… Curse you, bringer of darkness!"
Kutbike lost consciousness the moment the rune magic failed. The egg, so close to being born, faltered mid-passage and began to deteriorate.
Then, high above the crimson sky, the crane that had defied the sun for two days broke its silence. With wings outstretched and feathers gleaming like polished silver, it glided gracefully toward the peak of the mountain and landed silently atop the cave.
It turned its beak to the sun and opened its wings wide toward the heavens. From its stillness came a sound that defied silence—a divine resonance that echoed across miles, sacred and commanding. The crane began to glow.
In a flash of light, the egg was saved. The birth, teetering on the edge of catastrophe, was completed by a miracle.
The furious sky began to calm. The inferno that had swallowed the forest left not even ash behind. But now, clouds gathered above the scorched land, led by the crane's celestial glow, and the unbearable heat finally gave way to cooling air.
Collapsed upon the ground, Baksı Kurgana wept at the sight of the divine bird. Her throat burned, but she managed to whisper, "Praise be to Umay Ana."
Just as she was about to fall into the embrace of sleep, she remembered the egg.
With one final effort, she crawled to its side. Her weathered hand reached out to touch its surface, and a faint smile spread across her face.
While slightly looking towards to battered dragon "Kutbike… you did it."
The once graceful and noble dragoness now lay like a heap of flesh and bone, barely held together. Her once-glimmering scales had dulled, their former luster all but vanished. Yet despite the blood that streaked her face, there was no pain or fear—only peace.
Outside the cave, clouds gathered swiftly and in stark contrast to mere minutes ago, rain began to pour down in torrents. A mighty storm broke loose and the scorched, cracked earth began to breathe once more, sprouting new life under the miracle of Umay Ana's grace.
And the sacred, noble crane... vanished into the heavens, its divine presence fading beyond the clouds.