30. Xander
Chapter 30
Xander
10 years ago
T here was a storm the night my mating mark appeared. The type of storm that sends rain lashing at the windowpanes, the glass trembling under the force of the thunder. Lightning illuminates my room, creating long shadows. I sit bolt upright, rubbing at my chest as a strange sensation glimmers within it.
That’s when my body starts burning.
It’s not my skin that feels agony, nor a superficial sensation that makes me grimace. It’s a visceral, deep-seated fire that consumes my body, the sheer force of it ripping a scream from my throat.
I tear the covers off and my feet hit the floor, running, running away from the pain, running towards the feral pull I’ve felt since I was a child.
Towards the open sky.
Light and heat erupt from me, licks of flame dissipating off my arms, legs, hair. I reach the flight tower of Drakos Estate, and as my dragonfathers before me, I open my mouth and let out a cry.
Only it’s not the cry of a human boy that leaves me, but a cavernous, guttural roar that rivals the sound of the thunder and pounding rain. My body changes, gaining colossal size, muscle and tendons ripping through my shoulder blades and elongating into something I’ve obsessed about since I saw my father shift for the first time at four years of age.
My powerful body unfurls in the way of newborn dragons, my head rising to meet the sky, my wings stretching out to feel the wind. Huge claws grip the dragon perch that runs around the perimeter of the open tower.
I am nothing but lethal magnificence.
Something in my mind explodes at the same time that I do. With one bend of my knees and a powerful thrust, I’m in the sky, the rain but light fingers upon my thick hide, my wings catching the current of the air, keeping my enormous body aloft.
Master of the sky, of the wind, as the land becomes insignificant below me. I snap my jaws, feeling the powerful bite force, the need to rip and tear and shred. My vision turns red and I wheel around, searching for the enemy. My power spans outwards, new and volcanic.
Beating my wings, I propel through the air. Soon, I will face my enemies. Soon?—
I’m aware of someone shouting in the far distance. “He’s heading towards the town!”
Then something huge slams into me, tackling my body in thin air. I bite and kick and roar my fury, but the bigger beast proves stronger and more skilled. Grasped in his claws, sharp tips dig into my sides as I thrash, we spear towards the grass.
I’m shocked enough to shift back, shrinking smaller and smaller until I am insignificant.
But no less deadly.
Back on my feet, I cry into the oncoming rain, swinging my arms, looking for my enemy. People rush about; someone cries my name. My feet are lifted off the ground and I shout in frustration, my arms wheeling. I’m thrown into the castle’s entrance hall, slammed against something soft.
We land on the tiles with a thump.
“Sweet baby dragon, down by the sea…”
A soft singing falls into my ear, warm arms encircle me, and despite the madness, the need for blood, the lullaby soothes my body and it relaxes along with my mind.
“Mother?” I whisper.
Her mouth forms a smile as she sings softly into my ear. “ Sweet baby dragon, down by the sea. He frolics in the waves, happy as can be…”
I smile up at her and she stops singing. “Better, my love?”
“He is a grown beast now.” Father wrenches me up to standing by the bicep. Water drips from his long hair onto my shoulder, his naked body towering over me. “And he’ll act like it.”
I slam a fist into his neck so fast he stumbles back from the shock. But he’s ready for the next jab, catching it easily in a big fist. I rain punches and kicks upon him, fully aware of what I’m doing and revelling in the feeling of the fight. As if I was meant to do this. As if this was my life’s purpose and mission. To fight. To kill.
“The song, Mother!” my sister shouts. “The music!”
“Enough of this!”
Two things slam onto the sides of my head and loud sounds make me grimace. But they also stop me in my tracks.
Headphones cushion my ears where the music plays from, my father holding the player in one hand.
I look up at him, his handsome face taut. “You have your mother’s genes,” he snarls, grabbing me again. He calls over his shoulder, “Assemble the family. We may get a prophecy tonight.”
A little less than an hour later, my uncle, mother, and my older sister meet me in the throne room. It’s deep underground where the walls are made of rock, and the throne itself sits on a high dais of ancient stone, inset with jewels. It’s a place for formal occasions and celebrations, and thus today, I will get to stand on the dais in a place of great pride. I wear a loose black robe of my father’s, with trim of gold and silver thread tied closed at my waist. The headphones still play music in my ears, but I’ve turned it right down to a soft classical number, and that killing rage has settled to burning embers at the back of my mind.
I stare at myself in the reflection of a small hand mirror, checking my neck. A skull with five curling beams erupting from it. I wonder what it means. Who it means. What anima was destined to be mine and only mine.
Behind my smiling mother and sister, I can hear as my father welcomes a foreign presence into our private domain.
A feminine voice greets, “Your Majesty.”
“Lady Agnis,” Father says formally. “I thought Damien Agnis was a male phoenix.”
“You sent for the best, Your Majesty. Damien is my cousin. I am Celeste Agnis.”
There’s a slight pause whereby my father is no doubt looking the female up and down. She will get no apology for the lateness of the hour, nor the continued storm, because in this household, to serve a dragon is to serve the Wild Gods no less. Finally, Father says, “Please, come in. It is a happy evening for us. My own mark never appeared.”
“Indeed?” she says. “Hopefully, the bonding plane bears luck for your son.”
The door opens, and my father leads in a slender red-headed woman in her late thirties, sharp golden eyes revealing what she is.
“Xander, meet Celeste Agnis,” Father says.
I reach a hand out to her, but she chuckles under her breath and does not take it, indicating the dais behind me. “Please, let us save it for the reading.”
Heat floods my cheeks and I quickly take up my position upon the dais, as does the Lady Phoenix. She smiles softly, studying me with great interest as my father lights the flames upon the pillars on either side of us.
“A great honour has been bestowed upon us tonight,” he booms, voice echoing through the cavern. “A dragon has become grown. My son, the heir to the Drakos throne, will find his soul-bound mate in this lifetime. He will carry our family name. He will bear many children. He brings us pride tonight. Begin, Lady Phoenix.”
Celeste Agnis inhales, her hands clasped at her waist. “How do you feel, Xander?”
I blink, rapidly checking for anything abnormal. “Very well, thank you. I think.”
She smiles kindly. “Such manners.”
“Oh yes,” drawls Father. “He is well trained.”
Lady Agnis inclines her head at Father before turning back to me. She holds out her hand.
The weight of the universe and my entire destiny lies in those hands. I reach out, feeling my ancestors who had done the same before me in the wake of the movement.
Her palm is hot when I take it, and ancient fires light up her irises.
I gasp.
She intones in a deep melodic voice, “Five black hearts are calling. Five black hearts are wanting. It is five who cry a dark and lonely song, calling for their queen. W—” She inhales and blinks as if coming back to the present. “Dragon,” she says with a small smile. “Dragon.”
The room is silent—dead silent as we all register the words.
“Queen?” I finally say. “Why does it refer to a-a queen?”
“It seems,” Celeste says slowly, eyes flicking over to my father looming behind me. “That you have a regina.”
My mouth drops open in surprise. “So I have a pack of five,” I breathe in wonder. “I am one of five who serve an anima.”
“Get out,” Father snaps. “Get out .”
Celeste stiffens, but I see she has great sense because she quickly bows and steps off the dais, heading right out of the throne room. Only when the door closes behind her does my father begin pacing, muttering to us. “She was wrong. We should have had Lord Agnis read for you. It cannot be true. How can it be true. A regina? For my son?” He stops to rake his eyes down my body, as if looking for some defect. His eyes snap to my mother and he points to her. “This is from your side. No son of mine would be slave to a regina. ” He spits out the word like it’s filthy, which I think is a bit dramatic.
Having a regina wouldn’t be that bad, would it? I’ve always wanted a brother anyway. Having four would be challenging, but there’s nothing I can’t handle. Father taught me that.
But then a snide voice enters my mind. How can you be dragon king if your destiny is to serve a queen?
I look to my father, who is now staring at me as if I’m someone else. “It is of no consequence to us what the bonding plane presents. Dragons decide their own destinies, we always have. We will continue as if this never happened. Is that understood?” He looks to my mother and sister in challenge. They rapidly nod, eyes wide in fear.
“Xander?” he snaps, eyes burning into mine.
Lost in my own thoughts, I snap to attention. “Dragons make their own destinies, Father. I will not be hindered by any beast. Male or female.”
He nods before turning around in a swish of silk and cotton. But even as I say the words, my hand reaches up and brushes the warm skin that contains the mark only I can see. Music rings through my ears but I can still hear Celeste’s deep melody:
It’s five who cry a dark and lonely song…