Chapter 31
Zigmander
Mina has family left, and they’ve confirmed our greatest fear. The mages are hunting dragons and weakening bloodlines on purpose. The knowledge sits cold and heavy in my gut like a stone, a constant reminder of the danger lurking beyond our protected walls.
Mina is having the family gather in the neutral part of her private residence.
The air here is thick with tension and the mingled scents of various dragons—earthy iron, smoky black, and the burning brimstone of Klauth’s essence.
The stone walls feel both protective and confining as we all crowd into the space, our body heat slowly warming the cool air around us.
The two male dragons, Ty and Njall, are cousins of hers, and I can see the resemblance—the same fiery glint in their eyes, matching the metallic sheen of Mina’s when she’s agitated.
The same proud tilt to their chins and arches of their horns that catch the light from the crystal fixtures overhead.
Their iron dragon scent mingles with Mina’s, a metallic tang that speaks of shared blood.
Leander and Callan have decided to cook while the rest of us get to know her cousins.
The rich aromas of searing meat and spices waft from the kitchen, making my mouth water despite the gravity of our situation.
The sizzle and pop of food cooking provides a comforting background rhythm to our tense conversation.
“How many iron dragons are left?” I ask as my kittens sleep with their heads on my thighs, their small bodies radiating warmth against my legs, their soft purrs vibrating through my muscles. The weight of them ground me as I brace for an answer I already dread.
“Counting us...” Njall looks over at Ty, his voice rough like steel dragged across stone.
His fingers curl into a fist on the armrest, knuckles whitening with pressure.
“Five.” He looks back over at me and lowers his eyes, the shadows beneath them deepening.
“Five counting us.” The words hang in the air like a death knell, each syllable falling hard and final in the suddenly quiet room.
Mina bites her bottom lip as she walks back into the room, the soft padding of her bare feet on the hardwood floor barely audible.
I taste copper in the air—she’s bitten her lip hard enough to draw blood.
Her daughter rests along her mother’s shoulders as her dragon, tiny claws digging gently into Mina’s shirt fabric for balance.
The horns on top of Lily’s head are all iron dragon, gleaming like polished silver daggers under the warm lighting.
Her scales are just as hard as her mother’s but possess her father’s black coloring, absorbing the light rather than reflecting it, making her look like a piece of night sky fallen to earth.
Lily immediately chirps at the new arrivals, the sound high and musical, sending a ripple of smiles across the tense faces in the room.
“She’s beautiful,” Ty says as he smiles at her, his voice softening from its earlier grimness, the scent of his pride and wonder cutting through the room’s heaviness.
“Lily, watch what Mommy does. It’s how those of iron dragon blood greet each other.
” Mina steps forward and touches her horns to Ty’s.
I can see a small leap of current between them, like static electricity but more purposeful.
A blue-white spark that jumps across the minuscule gap as their horns meet.
The air crackles with energy, raising the fine hairs on my arms.
“Do you want to try?” Ty asks, then bows his head, the movement graceful despite his warrior’s frame.
Lily stares at his horns, her tiny eyes narrowing in concentration, then rises and touches her tiny horns to one of his.
A soft smile crosses his lips before he stands straight, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.
“Very good. Now our dragons will know each other,” he says before Njall walks over and lowers his head for Lily.
The leather of his jacket creaks with the movement, and his boots scrape against the stone floor.
She touches her horns to one of his, and I watch him smile as well, the hard lines around his eyes softening momentarily.
“Thank you, little cousin,” Njall says with a smile, his voice warming like metal heated in a forge.
“So what do we do about the mages?” Abraxis asks as he walks over and nuzzles his daughter.
His footsteps are heavy with purpose, and the scent of his concern—sharp like pine and bitter like burnt coffee—fills the surrounding air.
His wings ruffle slightly against his back, the sound like pages turning in a book.
“We send scouts,” Klauth says as he raises the bourbon to his lips.
The amber liquid catches the light, glowing like trapped fire in the crystal tumbler.
I can smell the rich, woody scent of the alcohol from where I sit.
The ice clinks against the glass as he swirls it, the sound oddly musical in the tense atmosphere.
“Ziggy, we need a team of your people to get close and spy on the mages,” Mina says as she looks around the room, her gaze finally settling on me.
Her eyes have darkened to the color of storm clouds, and I can sense the rage simmering beneath her controlled exterior, heat radiating from her skin in waves that make the air shimmer slightly around her.
“I’ll send at least two spies in,” I reply, feeling the weight of responsibility settle across my shoulders like a heavy cloak.
I look down at the list on my phone, the blue light from the screen casting eerie shadows across my face, and then send out the text.
My fingers tap rapidly against the glass surface, each contact creating a soft clicking sound.
Several replies come back almost immediately, their arrival marked by gentle vibrations against my palm.
I have three teams of two willing to cycle in and out, spying over the days to come.
The knowledge should bring relief, but instead, it only underscores the danger we’re all facing.
The taste of fear is metallic on my tongue, not unlike the scent of the iron dragons who now fight for their survival.
As I look up from my phone, I catch Mina’s eye across the room.
In that moment of shared understanding, I feel the weight of what’s coming—a storm gathering on the horizon, thunder already rumbling in the distance.
The dragons around me, these ancient and powerful beings, now look vulnerable in ways I never imagined possible.
And somehow, I’ve become integral to their survival.
The thought settles in my chest like a burning coal, painful yet strangely energizing.
Whatever comes, we face it together, this strange family forged not just by blood but by choice and necessity.
Mina and Vaughn return to classes this morning, the scent of their departure—a mixture of leather, metal, and Mina’s distinctive iron-tinged perfume—still lingering in the hallway.
Me? I’m on hatchling duty. For my sanity’s sake, Mina had all the babies shift to their human forms, so they’re easier to manage.
The transformation itself was a sight to behold—scales melting into soft skin, wings receding into tiny shoulder blades, their eyes the last feature to change but still keeping that otherworldly gleam.
Sitting around the breakfast table this morning has been a trip.
The polished wood surface is littered with colorful plastic plates, spilled juice creating sticky amber puddles that catch the morning light streaming through the tall windows.
My twins will eat anything I set in front of them, their little fingers grabbing eagerly at scrambled eggs and toast, the wet sounds of their chewing and occasional giggles filling the quiet kitchen.
Lily is a picky eater like her father. She pushes food around her plate, her tiny nose wrinkling at the scents she finds displeasing, her silverware scraping against the ceramic in a way that makes my teeth ache.
The sound of heavy boots on the hardwood floors makes me look up, the distinctive cadence of each step as recognizable as a voice.
I see Klauth approaching, his massive frame momentarily blocking the sunlight, casting the breakfast nook into shadow.
The surrounding air seems to heat up by several degrees, his presence commanding even in domestic settings like this.
“Morning,” I say, giving him a little wave before offering Lily a chunk of breakfast sausage that steams in the cool air. The spicy aroma wafts upward, making my stomach rumble but causing Lily to turn her head away, her silver-flecked eyes narrowing in displeasure.
“Is she still being difficult about eating?” Klauth asks as he pours himself a cup of coffee, the rich, bitter scent cutting through the sweeter breakfast smells. The dark liquid splashes into his mug, its surface reflecting the kitchen lights like polished obsidian.
“Yeah. She eats best for Abraxis and Mina.” I shrug a little, the movement making my shirt brush against my skin, still sensitive from yesterday’s training. “Maybe it’s a dragon thing?”
“Perhaps. Do you want me to ask her?” Klauth sits close to where Lily is, the chair creaking ominously under his weight.
The leather of his jacket tightens across his shoulders as he leans forward.
The hatchling turns her head and smiles up at him, her tiny teeth gleaming like pearls against her pink gums.
“That would be very helpful.” I slide her plate over to him, the ceramic making a soft scraping sound against the wooden table, and he looks at it before rumbling to her. The sound vibrates through the air, so low it’s almost more felt than heard, raising goosebumps along my arms.