Chapter 42
Forty-Two
The stench of humans was particularly vile. Acrid. Smoke, sweat, and iron.
The village to the north of Elowen’s old home had outgrown their walls, and they had begun to encroach on the mountain.
Midas stalked through the cover of fog, wings pressed tight against his sides as his talons carved deep grooves into the soft, wet dirt.
He kept low, his golden eyes glinting under the moonlight as he prowled at the edge of the forest. The wind was favorable tonight, blowing more fog across him to obscure his frame.
He comes to watch them every night, to ensure they did not get too close to his cave, his nest, his family.
He exhaled thick smoke through his nostrils, the embers of his breath scattering through the dense fog. The sound of his heart was steady, until there was a small rustle behind him. Too heavy for an animal, too quick for a human.
His head snapped around, his pupils narrowing into slits. He breathed in deep the air around him, and the smell finally reached him.
Familiar. Warm. Infuriating.
A snarl ripped from his throat, and two small shapes froze in the tree line. Barely shadows against the woods, but Midas could see the scales glinting faintly under the moonlight, just enough to betray them through the fog.
He lunged. Both boys yelped and tried to run, but Midas was faster. His talons caged their bodies to the ground, careful not to harm, but harsh enough that they could not twist free. Their frightened little sounds pierced something deep in him, but the fury burning in his chest drowned it out.
He didn’t roar at them—he erupted. The ancient language of the dragons resonated through his throat from deep in his chest.
What are you doing here? he demanded. His voice was thunder, echoing through the trees and scaring away the birds. You followed me? Here? To this cursed place?
Neither boy answered. Instead, they trembled, but Midas did not notice.
Do you have any idea what the humans would do if they saw you? Have you already forgotten what they did to us the last time they found us together? His growl shook the earth beneath them again. And what of your mother, hm? You would leave her alone in such a delicate state?
No answers came from the boys, only terrified whimpers.
Midas could not hear them over his own rage.
He let them free, only to take their tails between his teeth, lifting them from the ground and carrying them toward the mountain.
The boys cried out, their voices sharp with fear as their father carried them like prey.
Elowen was waiting when he landed at the mouth of their cave, relief flooding her features to see her children again. They likely snuck away and worried her sick.
“Midas?” she breathed, rushing toward the three of them.
Midas dropped the boys onto the cave floor, with enough force that they stumbled. They scrambled away immediately, hiding behind their mother’s legs. Their little chests heaved, and their eyes were wide with terror, barely peeking out from under her skirt.
A piece of fabric was no shield though, and Midas continued his barrage of rage on the boys, screaming at them in a language Elowen could not understand or replicate with her human throat.
His voice boomed through the cave walls, making the stones quake. I told you never to leave the ridge without me! How dare you disobey me!
Elowen squatted to wrap her arms around her boys, pulling them tight against her. “Midas, stop.”
Midas lifted his head and sent a growl in her direction, a warning, before turning his attention back to his children. You endangered your mother. You endangered all of us! What do you have to say for yourselves?
“Midas, they are children,” Elowen snapped, her own voice suddenly sharp enough to slice through his rage. “They are your children. Look at them!”
He does look, for a moment, at his sons. At the small, trembling bodies pressed against their human mother’s legs. At the tears brimming in their bright golden eyes. They had shifted back into their human forms, and looked up at their father with…fear.
They were afraid of him.
Midas exhaled, smoke dissipating into the air. His claws dug into the stone under him. His wings, still tense with anger, slowly lowered until they drooped heavily with shame.
Elowen, still shielding the boys with her body, lowered her voice. “You’re scaring them,” she said softly, her tone gentle but firm. “They don’t understand why you’re shouting. Right now, they only see their father acting with fire and fury. They are small, Midas.”
Midas turned his head away, for he could not meet her eyes any longer. His chest felt tight, as if his ribs were the only thing keeping the guilt from gnawing straight through his hide.
I was only trying to keep them safe, he said, but he knew Elowen could not understand the language of the dragons. When he opened his eyes, he looked to Kalen and Auric, hoping they heard him.
They were still staring, eyes still wide with fear.
A low rumble vibrated in Midas’ throat. Exhaustion from his own fear began dwindling, so he could finally see what he had done. He lowered himself until he was eye-level with his sons, his great head dipping toward the ground in submission.
I am sorry, he said softly to them, his words heavy in his chest. The boys did not answer, nor did he expect them to. They simply stayed behind the safety of their mother, hiding from him.
He lowered his head further, resting it completely against the stone ground. For the first time in a long while, Midas felt powerless. Not against the humans, but against the simple, fragile love of his family.
He realized in that moment that he was not roaring in anger as he thought, it was because he was terrified of losing them.
But they did not know that, and so Midas had done the opposite of what he intended, and terrified them instead.
The cave was quiet now, only the faint drip of water from the ceiling, and the soft rhythm of his children breathing in their nest.
Midas laid near the entrance of their cave, his wings folded tight against his sides. His head was bowed low as he stared into the dark with his golden eyes. He had not moved for hours, not even to warm the bedtime nest with the great fire in his heart.
Elowen joined him only after she was sure the boys were fast asleep. The echo of her bare feet on the stone was louder than it should be in the uncomfortable silence of their home.
“Midas,” she said softly. “You should come and rest.”
He huffed in response. She knelt next to him, sighing in relief at his familiar warmth. His large eyes flickered to his mate, so small in comparison to him, yet never afraid to approach.
“You frightened them,” she said, as if he didn’t already know it.
Midas, after a long moment, shifted into his human form so he could speak to her. She waited for him to join her, sitting quietly at the edge of the cave.
“They disobeyed me.” His voice rumbled low in his chest. “They followed me to the humans. Don’t you understand what that could have meant? What could have happened if they were seen?”
“I do,” Elowen said. “But screaming at them until they cower behind me is not the same as protecting them.”
His nostrils flared, the terror of what could have happened still haunting him. “They needed to understand–”
“Understand that their father is something to be afraid of?”
Midas’ head snapped up, the gold of his eyes sharpening.
“They should be afraid! Fear keeps you alive. Fear tells you when to run, when to hide, when to stay quiet. Fear is what saved me when–” He stopped suddenly, quieting his voice.
“When I was a hatchling and the humans attacked, my mother, my siblings, they did not have enough fear, and they were slain. I survived because I was afraid.”
Elowen’s expression softened, but she didn’t look away. He looked away instead, his gaze sinking to the floor. His claws scraped at the stone like he was trying to carve his guilt into it.
“I cannot lose them,” he murmured. “Not them. Not you. Not us.”
“You won’t,” Elowen said, moving closer. Her fingers hovered over his chest, then rested lightly against the warmth there. “But you can’t let your fear speak louder than your love.”
He closed his eyes at her touch, his breath shuddering through his chest. “I do not know the difference.”
“I know,” she whispered. “That’s why I’m telling you now.
” She brushed her thumb over the edge of one of his scales on his chest, and his body trembled.
“When they followed you, they weren’t trying to defy you.
They wanted to be like you. To be brave.
To see what their father sees. To share the skies with you as you’ve always wanted. And you shouted at them for that.”
Midas opened his eyes again, the gold in them dimmer now, wounded. “They could have died.”
Elowen did not answer, because she knew he had to understand in his own way. It was not something she could explain with words. He let out a low sound—half growl, half broken exhale—and pressed his head to hers.
“I do not know how to be soft,” he admitted, his voice cracking like firewood. “I never wished to make them afraid of me.”
“I know.”
The silence that followed was deep, but it was different this time. No longer cold or empty, but heavy with mutual understanding. Elowen kept her hand on his chest until his breathing slowed.
She stayed with him until the night faded toward morning, her body pressed against the warmth of his, his tail curling faintly around her like an unspoken apology.
Midas did not sleep, not after Elowen’s voice faded to silence and her hands fell still against his scales, and not after he carried her to bed and placed her in the nest next to Auric and Kalen.
Midas watched the glow of the fire dim and listened to the breaths of his sons rise and fall in soft unison. Every exhale wounded him. Every inhale tightened the guilt in his chest.
He had roared at them. Roared with fear disguised as fury.