Chapter 53
Mina
Thauglor was right—the flight took a little over two hours, and looking down, I see dozens of flights scattered across the landscape like living jewels.
The countryside is a kaleidoscope of colors as the dragons land then shift.
Their scales catching the afternoon sunlight in brilliant flashes of emerald, sapphire, crimson, and gold that dance across my vision like scattered treasure.
Thauglor leads us to a section of hillside that is large enough for our flight to land together, the grass below swaying in the downdrafts from our massive wings.
Klauth lands first, his form hitting the earth with a ground-shaking thud and roars, signaling it’s time to land.
The sound echoes across the valley like thunder rolling between mountains.
I roar next, my voice joining his in harmonic authority, and families start descending into the field, their wings creating rushing winds that smell of pine and mountain snow.
Thauglor and I remain circling high above the field, keeping watch like aerial sentinels, the thermals beneath our wings warm and steady.
The plan is to have me land last with the babies so that all the fathers are ready to receive them, each precious life safely transferred from my protection to theirs.
Almost thirty minutes later, the last family lands with a soft thump that barely disturbs the grass, and Thauglor roars before he goes in for his landing, his massive form graceful despite its size.
The other smaller flights have started gathering around where my flight is, their curiosity palpable in the way they crane their necks and whisper among themselves.
Maybe it’s curiosity, maybe they want to set up betrothals for their young.
Either way, it’s making me uncomfortable, my scales prickling with nervous energy.
I watch for the signal from Klauth that it’s time to land, my golden eyes tracking his every movement below.
He’s speaking to four men, their conversation animated with gestures.
He looks up at me and waves his handkerchief—a small white flag against the green of the field—and I slowly spiral down to land, my descent controlled and deliberate.
My landing is soundless, my massive form touching earth with the silence of falling snow, and the whispers start immediately.
I hear every word with my enhanced senses—comments about my size, my unusual coloring, the children I carry.
Purposely, I raise my frill, allowing the lightning to dance along the tips of the spines, crackling electricity that makes the air smell of ozone, and warns any who might consider challenging me or mine.
The display creates an aurora of blue-white light that silences the murmurs instantly.
One by one, my dragon hatchlings glide down to their fathers, their small wings beating with determined precision.
Lily glides down with Abraxis, her form graceful even in her youth.
Ziggy’s displacer kittens wait for him to get close, then they phase to him, their forms shimmering like mirages before appearing in his arms. Azalea has started losing her fur.
The scales underneath the same silver-green color her fur once was, creating patches of gleaming armor across her small form.
Belladonna is going through the same process, dark scales emerging where black fur once grew.
They are looking like dragons given feline form, unique and beautiful in their transformation.
When the last of the hatchlings have left me, I shift back, feeling my bones compress and reshape, scales receding into human skin.
No sooner am I standing on two legs does Klauth place the diadem back on my head.
The cold metal settling against my brow with familiar weight.
Serious Mina is needed for the gathering, not the protective mother who would tear apart any threat to her young.
The men who were speaking with Klauth are now talking to Thauglor, and I raise a brow looking at him, curiosity and wariness warring in my expression.
“Elder drakes from other flights. They are happy about the ending of the betrothal system and the dragon-first rule,” Klauth says as he rests my hand on his forearm to lead me toward where we are meeting with the others. His skin is warm beneath my palm, solid and reassuring.
I call to my babies, and they line up behind us, following closely like a parade of precious lives.
Every step we take towards the main field, my heart pounds a little harder in my chest, the sound so loud I’m certain others can hear it.
“Everything is okay, Mina. All is well,” Klauth whispers to me, his breath warm against my ear, and I draw in a deep breath that carries the scents of grass and gathered dragons.
“Sorry, with the way things have always been, I get anxious around this many strangers.” I pull in tight to his arm, holding on for dear life, my fingers gripping the fabric of his sleeve with desperate strength.
“That is understandable, my treasure. You have your most deadly mates with you. You are safe, loved, and cherished.” He smiles and kisses my temple, his lips warm against my skin, as we enter the clearing where there’s a series of stone benches arranged in a circle like an ancient amphitheater.
He picks a bench and sits me in the middle with him and Thauglor on either side of me, their presence like twin pillars of strength and protection.
My children come and lay down around us, their small forms creating a living barrier, and my mini-me carefully climbs up onto my lap, her tiny claws gripping my dress as she settles against me.
I watch as the other leaders of the flights gather and take their seats, the scraping of stone and rustle of fabric filling the air with mundane sounds that contrast with the tension I can feel building.
When all the benches are full, Thauglor stands, then turns and winks at me, the gesture so unexpected and warm it makes my heart skip a beat despite my nervousness.
“Thank you, everyone, for traveling from near and far to gather today.” He flexes his wings several times before walking to the middle of the circle, his movement commanding attention from every dragon present.
“My mate...” He motions back at me, and I feel heat rise in my cheeks under the scrutiny of so many eyes.
“Can break the hold of the anointing oil on your progeny. She has freed all the hatchlings of our flight and the flight at Blackhaven.” He motions to Vox and Cerce, two benches down, their faces beaming with gratitude and pride.
“When the flights met the last time, she freed almost two dozen hatchlings.” The pride in Thauglor’s voice brings tears to my eyes, emotion threatening to spill over despite my attempt to maintain composure.
“Can she free our hatchlings?” A female stands, pulling away from her mate, her voice carrying desperate hope that makes my chest ache with sympathy.
I look to Klauth, and he nods before I stand and join Thauglor, my legs surprisingly steady despite the magnitude of what I’m about to attempt.
I sit my daughter down to return to the other hatchlings.
“Would you like me to call all the children to me?” I fold my hands in front of me and draw in a deep breath, trying to settle my rising nerves, the air tasting of anticipation and fear.
The females all start nodding their heads as they look at their mates, hope blazing in their eyes like stars.
Eventually, the males relent and agree, their voices creating a murmur of consent that ripples through the gathered dragons.
I glance back at Klauth, and he nods. My eyes move to Abraxis and my other mates present, and they nod as well, their faith in me absolute and unwavering.
“Thauglor and Abraxis, someone shift and shield my progeny,” I call out, my voice carrying clearly across the circle.
Thauglor stands and moves back before shifting, his transformation fluid and powerful, and my progeny follows him as he lays back, creating a protective barrier with his massive form.
Abraxis tucks the children under his wing, each movement gentle and careful.
When everyone is where they need to be, I move to the center of the field and start with my song.
The notes rising from deep in my chest like prayer made audible.
The resonant tone carries across the field like ripples on water, and little by little, all the children crawl towards the field like I’m the pied piper, their small forms drawn by something deeper than conscious thought.
I watch as the parents from my flight have their children tucked under one of their dragons’ wings, safe from what’s to come.
Before me, there’s at least thirty babies and about another fifteen young children.
Their faces turned up to me with trust that makes my throat tight with emotion.
“This is going to hurt, but it will free your dragons,” I tell them, my voice gentle but firm.
I lower my head briefly and feel the bone plates shift in my face, the sensation like breaking and reforming, and scales erupt along my arms like living armor.
My tone changes as my vocal cords shift to be like my dragon’s, deeper and more resonant, carrying power that makes the air itself vibrate.
I kneel and dig my talons into the earth, feeling rich soil beneath my claws, as I sway side to side, letting the song flow through me like a river current.
The first of the babies thrashes, small limbs flailing as ancient magic breaks and reforms, and my eyes shift to that of my dragon’s as I watch with enhanced sight.
One by one, the babies and toddlers shift into their hatchling form for the first time, their cries of pain and wonder filling the air with heartbreaking beauty.