Chapter 37 Abraxis #2
Thauglor shifts back to his human form with a sound like a rushing wind. His massive dragonic presence condensed into his still-imposing human body. The scent of ancient stone and mountain air intensifies around him as he strides across the courtyard to stand beside my father.
“Yes, that is our Mina. She’s achieved wyrm status early,” Thauglor says, his voice carrying across the courtyard. He bites his bottom lip, teeth pressing into flesh as he glances back at me, concern shadowing his ancient eyes. “The mages may hunt her and me, if I’m being honest.”
The ground beneath my feet vibrates violently as Mina lands with crushing force.
Small pieces of stone dislodge from the courtyard floor, skittering across the surface like frightened insects.
She releases a roar that makes my eardrums throb painfully, lightning racing over her scales in a dazzling display of power.
The hair along my arms—stands on end from the electrical charge in the air.
She angles her massive head downward, golden eyes glowing like twin suns as she regards us.
Under her gaze, I feel like a mouse beneath the paw of a fox—small, exposed, vulnerable.
Mina shifts back with a ripple of energy that sends a warm breeze across my face. She stretches languidly, the sound of her joints popping audibly in the tense silence. Her scent—thunderstorms and ozone—intensifies as she joins our small group, her movements fluid and predatory.
“This is going to be very dangerous,” she says, her voice oddly flat.
Her eyes move from me to Thauglor, then over to my father, calculating and cold.
The warmth I’m accustomed to seeing in her gaze is absent, replaced by something harder, more primal.
A shiver runs down my spine despite the lingering heat from my flight.
“You’re a wyrm now, Mina,” my father states, his voice tinged with awe and something that might be fear. The subtle change in his scent confirms my suspicion.
Mina merely shrugs her shoulders, the casual gesture at odds with the monumental significance of her transformation.
“Good, it increases the odds of my plan working. Two wyrms, two large black dragons with painted white faces.” Her analytical tone makes my stomach clench uncomfortably.
This cold, tactical Mina is unnerving—a far cry from the passionate mate who shares my bed.
Thauglor is smiling as he watches Mina walk toward the entrance to the nest. The curve of his lips and the gleam in his eyes sends another chill through me—his happiness in this moment seems misplaced, almost predatory.
“What made you happy all of a sudden?” I ask, bumping shoulders with my ancestor. The brief contact with his solid form grounds me momentarily.
“Mina’s visions foresaw her becoming a wyrm, and that helps us to be victorious.” The happiness in Thauglor’s voice is as concerning as it is comforting, an unsettling combination that makes my pulse quicken.
I turn to my father as Mina disappears through the heavy stone archway. “Mom is a wyrm dragon by age alone,” I say, seeking confirmation, or perhaps comfort, in his familiar wisdom.
“By age, yes.” He nods, the lines around his eyes deepening.
“But she rarely takes her dragon form, so it’s barely grown over the years.
To deny the shift is to weaken the beast.” His gaze drops to the ground, shoulders slumping slightly.
The scent of old grief rises from him like mist. “Your mom should be about half the size of Mina’s dragon, if she’s lucky. ”
“Why didn’t Mom shift more?” I ask, glancing from Thauglor back to my father, trying to understand this new revelation about the woman who raised me. The stone beneath my feet seems to cool further, the chill seeping through the soles of my boots.
“Your mom...” He pauses, swallowing audibly.
The sound of his heart increases slightly, the beat echoing in my sensitive ears.
“Like me, she had a true mate that wasn’t a dragon.
” When my father looks up, I see the pain etched into his features, raw and exposed.
The scent of his sorrow is powerful enough to make my throat tighten in sympathy.
The idea of a day without my Mina is unthinkable, a void too terrible to contemplate. My heart pounds painfully at the mere thought.
“Her dragoness doesn’t always give her its form willingly.
She still mourns her mate.” He looks toward the entrance where Mina disappeared, his eyes distant as if seeing into the past. “Drakes don’t mourn the loss of a mate without a bond.
Females do. You and Cora were the only things that kept her from mourning herself to death.
Now it’s the grand babies that keep her here. ”
My father turns and walks away, his footsteps heavy on the stone floor. The sound echoes in the courtyard, a lonely rhythm that underscores the weight of his words. The entrance swallows him, leaving Thauglor and me alone in the courtyard. The mountain air feels suddenly colder against my skin.
“He’s right. Drakes don’t mourn without a bond,” Thauglor says softly, his ancient eyes surveying the courtyard as if assessing it for threats.
The breeze carries his words to me, along with the faint scent of anticipation.
“From what Klauth told me, Mina came close to mourning herself to death over you, even though she had other mates left.” He slaps me on the shoulder, the impact solid and grounding, before heading inside.
The warmth of his hand lingers briefly on my skin before fading.
I stare after my ancestor as he enters the nest, the heavy door closing behind him with a dull thud that resonates in my chest. What I’ve learned today has shaken me to my core.
Both of my parents had mates in other species, mates who were killed because of the old laws—laws enforced by dragons like me.
The realization sits like ice in my veins.
My thoughts drift to my daughter, her innocent face appearing in my mind’s eye.
We have to do better for her. The cool mountain air fills my lungs as I make a silent vow—I will not kill her mate, no matter what species they are.
The taste of that promise is sweet on my tongue, a balm against the bitterness of my heritage.
Drawing in another deep breath that fills my chest and steadies my resolve, I return to the nest of my birth.
My footsteps echo on the stone floor as I make my way to the war room.
Bahamut knows what plan my mate and ancestor have hatched together.
The scent of brimstone and ancient power grows stronger as I approach the chamber, along with Mina’s distinctive aroma—sharp now with purpose and determination.
I can only hope we all come out of this in one piece, my hand unconsciously reaching for the hilt of my sword as I cross the threshold.