Chapter 25 Callan
Callan
We are all hunkered down in the secret cavern with the babies, taking them swimming.
The air is thick with humidity, clinging to my skin like a second layer, while the mineral scent of the limestone fills my nostrils with each breath.
The feeder stream for the hot springs cuts through this cavern.
Its gentle gurgling is a constant background to the babies’ excited squeals.
Steam rises from the water’s surface in lazy curls, creating a misty haze that softens the harsh edges of the rock walls.
Ziggy and Abraxis manifest in here with us, their sudden appearance sending a ripple of cooler air across my damp skin.
One look at Abraxis’s face—jaw clenched, nostrils flared—tells me he’s pissed.
“Take me back, Ziggy. Mina needs me.” He screams as he grabs Ziggy by the shoulders, his knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. The veins in his neck stand out like ropes beneath his skin, pulsing with each rapid heartbeat.
“No can do. Mina wanted you here with the babies. Besides, she has the ancients with her. She’s fine.
” Ziggy says so confidently it’s amazing.
His voice echoes slightly against the stone walls, resonant and assured.
He shifts as he walks to the stream, his bones cracking and popping with the change.
He plays with the babies, sending tiny waves rippling across the water’s surface with each movement.
“I swear he’s almost as bad as the hatchlings,” I laugh a little, the sound tight in my throat, as I offer Abraxis a beer from the cooler. The can is cold and slick against my palm, condensation already beading on the aluminum surface in the humid air.
He takes it and pops the top off before chugging half of it, the sharp hiss of carbonation followed by the heavy scent of hops and malt.
A thin trickle of golden liquid escapes from the corner of his mouth, trailing down his chin.
“Abaddon brought his flight with him.” His eyes lock on his daughter jumping off a rock with her wings out into Balor’s open arms. The flutter of her tiny wings sends droplets of water scattering like diamonds in the dim light.
“Where’s Abaddon?” I look at Ziggy as he picks up his kittens using his tentacles, their fur sleek and shining with moisture, their tiny bodies squirming against his hold.
“In Mina’s talons. Last I saw, she was flying up into the clouds with him.
I saw a flash, and then we were here.” Abraxis rests his hand over Mina’s scale, the surface of it warm and pulsing like a heartbeat beneath his fingers.
The worry etched into his face carves deep lines around his mouth and between his brows.
“What’s wrong?” Subconsciously, I move my shirt to look at mine. It’s as bright and vibrant as the day Mina gave it to me, the color shifting subtly with my breathing, a comforting weight against my chest.
Abraxis draws in a deep breath, his chest expanding noticeably.
The scent of his anxiety—sharp and acrid—mingles with the earthy dampness of the cavern.
“According to Thauglor, if Mina dies, the scale dies with her.” He presses his hand against the scale and closes his eyes, his lashes dark smudges against his cheeks. “She’s tired, but okay.”
“That’s good news, right?” I smile, looking at him, trying to get him to focus on the positive. The stretch of my lips feels forced, my facial muscles tight with the effort.
“I just don’t want her to regret what I think she might do.” He kills off his drink and sits the empty down next to the makeshift garbage can we made out of a box. The hollow aluminum thunk echoes briefly in the cavern.
“Ah, I catch your drift.” I stare at the babies, watching them play, splashing in and out of the water. Their happy noises bounce off the cavern walls, creating a symphony of joy that feels at odds with the tension hanging heavy in the air.
“If she does...” He draws his thumb across his throat, the gesture slow and deliberate, his nail leaving a faint white line on his skin.
“Him, she’s going to feel guilty later. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but she will.
” Abraxis’s bottom lip quivers a little, a brief betrayal of emotion before he masters it.
“She should’ve let me do it.” He says, looking up at me.
His eyes shifted to his dragon’s—vertical pupils cutting through irises that glow with an inner fire in the dim light.
“She needs to know it’s truly over, Brax.
” Balor says as he cradles Lily to his chest, her tiny form nestled against him, her scales gleaming like polished obsidian.
“Someone else doing it for her wouldn’t be the same.
We talked about it the other night.” He gazes down at the hatchling in his arms. There’s a softness there I’ve never witnessed before, a tenderness that transforms his usually hard features.
We stand in silence as we watch the kittens wrestling with Ziggy in and out of the water, their bodies sleek blurs of movement, sending sprays of droplets that catch the light like tiny prisms. Belle, the mostly green kitten, vanishes with a subtle ripple in the air, then reappears behind her father, water streaming off her fur in rivulets.
“Oh shit, the kitten can phase.” I point at Belle, shocked at what she can do so young, my voice echoing a bit too loudly in the cavern.
Ziggy shifts back to his human form, his body contorting briefly before settling, water running off his now-smooth skin instead of fur.
He smiles, looking at his daughter, pride evident in the softening around his eyes.
“We usually start phasing around a month to a month and a half old.” Azalea sneezes, and the familiar sizzle of acid hitting stone echoes in the chamber, the sound like water on a hot skillet but sharper, more dangerous.
The acrid smell of dissolving limestone fills the air, making my nostrils burn and my eyes water.
“Um, we have a situation.” I motion to the acid eating the limestone, watching as it bubbles and smokes, small tendrils of vapor rising from the point of impact. The rock hisses and pops as it dissolves, leaving a shallow, pitted depression.
“Oh shit, what do we do?” Ziggy says as he looks from one daughter to the other, his eyes wide with panic, a sheen of sweat breaking out across his forehead. The one that looks more dragon can phase, and the one that looks more like a displacer beast has a breath weapon.
“Um, shift back and explain to the kittens about how dangerous what they can do is?” My eyes dart around the interior of the cavern.
I take in the narrow passages that could lead who knows where, the shadowy corners where a small kitten could easily hide.
My heart rate picks up, its beat a drum against my ribs.
“Or we can wait for Mina and hope we don’t have a missing kitten or someone’s skin burned off.
” Ziggy shifts back almost immediately, his form blurring momentarily before solidifying into his beast's shape.
He lays down, his massive body curled protectively around his offspring.
I can only guess speaking to his kittens.
His eyes are intense, focused entirely on the little ones before him.
I can only hope he can get them to understand.
It feels like days later when Mina finally summons Ziggy to bring the family back.
The air in the cavern has grown stale, the once-pleasant mineral scent now cloying and heavy in my lungs.
Two by two, he transports us back into the main part of the house.
The shift in the environment jarring—from damp cave air to the warm, wood-scented comfort of our home.
Ziggy, his children, and I are the last to return to the house.
My stomach tightens with anticipation as we materialize, the momentary disorientation making my head spin.
The first thing I notice is Mina, sitting on the furs, her posture slightly hunched, betraying her exhaustion despite her attempt to appear normal.
Her skin is paler than usual, with dark shadows beneath her eyes like bruises.
Lily sits in front of her, the little dragoness’s scales gleaming like polished obsidian under the soft amber lighting.
It looks like they’re in deep conversation, their eyes locked in silent communication.
Mina makes a rumbling noise, the sound vibrating through the room like distant thunder, and then Lily imitates it and shoots a small spark of lightning out of her mouth.
The brief flash illuminates their faces, casting sharp, momentary shadows on the stone walls.
The air fills with the sharp, metallic scent of ozone.
Mina nods and smiles before kissing her daughter on her forehead, her lips lingering there for a moment.
“Welcome back, guys.” She looks up and smiles at all of us. The smile stretches her lips but doesn’t quite meet her eyes—those remain distant, haunted pools of memory. But it’s better than I expected, considering what she likely had to do.
I sit Azalea on the ground, her tiny body warm and squirming against my hands.
She and her twin scamper over to Mina and pounce on her, their little claws making soft scratching sounds against the furs.
Mina laughs, the sound lighter than her expression, and nuzzles her kittens, purring to them.
The vibration of her purr is audible across the room, a soothing, rumbling bass note.
Her eyes move from baby to baby, then they glow brightly, a flare of golden light that makes me squint.
One by one, the babies shift, the air around them shimmering with heat.
The sound of tiny bones and cartilage realigning fills the momentary silence—not painful, they’re too young for that—but distinct, like twigs snapping underwater.
Then chubby little toddlers sit on the floor, their skin flushed from the change.