Chapter 6 #3
They had hatchlings, but only a set or two over the course of hundreds of years, in comparison to the much quicker lifespan of her kind – which meant they weren’t procreating fast enough.
There were only two or three thousand dragons left on this continent, whereas there were tens of thousands of witches, and that number grew every year.
It took a hundred years for a hatchling to leave the nest, and then another hundred to truly mature into adulthood.
It took merely twenty to twenty-five years for witches to run off and make more of themselves.
It didn’t matter that dragons often had four or five eggs; there was still a major disparity in the reproduction rates of their kinds.
His grandparents had been alive when the first witch was born. This female likely considered her dragon ancestor a great-great-great something. He or she would’ve existed hundreds of years ago, not someone within her lifespan.
And usually, somewhere along the way, a generation would grow corrupt...
and then the rest were poisoned. There was no way to go back.
That child would grow up learning dark magic, and the cycle continued on as less and less offspring were brought up with pure-heartedness, instead lacking care and consideration for life.
So how had her lineage, which had been tempted with pixie and fairy magic, remained faithful to white witchcraft? They danced on the edge of corruption – it glittered in their faces every time the pixies and fairies gave them power – but never turned to take it for themselves.
This has given me much to think on.
It didn’t erase what had happened to his last remaining sibling, nor the others that had died at the hands of her kind, but it did lessen his apprehension of her in particular.
Not completely, though; he didn’t trust her, as she could be an outlier that had a change of will whenever she desired. But for now, he was at ease with her presence.
The little female smiled as she stared down at Selene. It was full of warmth and kindness, and it did something strange to his insides, stirring his chest in a way he’d never experienced before. Even after her expression softened, it still appeared remarkably lovely.
“I don’t mind doing this for her,” she said quietly. “I must cook for myself anyway. I know you don’t trust me alone in here with her, but I truly have no ill intentions. I can give her food and water when I require it, which will ensure she’s adequately receiving both.”
“No,” he answered definitively.
She cut her gaze to him with her smile tightening.
“You have books to sort through, don’t you?
If one of us needs to do that task, perhaps it should be the one who made the mess?
” When he opened his mouth to argue, she cocked a brow.
“You know more about that room’s contents and how you want it all sorted than I do.
You will be needlessly making it a longer process by taking a task I’m better at simply out of stubbornness. ”
Blergh. How dare she be right!
“She won’t want you touching or feeding her.”
“Her comfort matters little when her health matters more. The longer we take, the longer she is like this. Wouldn’t she prefer to be awake and feeding herself, rather than either of us doing it for her?”
Blasted! She’s right again!
Slitting his eyes into a glare, he pointed a claw at her. “You are irksomely intuitive, witch.”
Her smile was tight. “I’ll take that as a compliment that I’m grand and wise.”
He let out a grumbling huff, annoyed that he rather liked that response. “Fine. You may feed her, but nothing else. Understood? Any witchcraft you cast in this room must be supervised by me.”
“As you wish, oh great, mighty, grumpy dragon.” There was a tease in her tone.
He understood it was intended to be playful – perhaps she merely wished to lessen the tension between them. Or maybe it was her way of being snide back at him for being overly curt.
It only upset him.
“I am not grumpy!” he roared, snapping his fangs at her. She gasped in surprise and backed up when he stomped a paw closer with a loud thud. “I am angry.”
I have not slept, I have not eaten, my magic is depleting through self-neglect, and I have brought a witch into my home!
He growled at the empty bowl in her hand, then at her, then at his sister who lay there. He’d witnessed what her captors were doing to her, and he’d been enraged ever since.
But it was not her fault. She likely wouldn’t even understand the vileness. What they’d done to his sister... was worse than death.
And since then, all he’d wanted was to leave his cave and hunt witchkind until they were entirely eradicated from this world, regardless of whether it meant his deepest, darkest, most terrifying fears might come to fruition.
As he’d wished many times while storming from this very alcove, he sincerely hoped his sister remembered none of it. That it was only he who had to wear the weight of it, the disgust of it.
His wing brushed the witch on his way out as he put his mind to the task he needed to complete. Rather than sleeping or eating, he headed to his clutter of books to begin sorting. The sooner they sought an answer, the sooner they’d find a solution.
The female followed, quiet and unsure.
Good.