Chapter 18
Raven
Lub-dub... lub-dub... lub-dub...
All I hear is my heartbeat—slow and steady, echoing through my massive skull with hypnotic rhythm. By the muffled sound of it, I know I’m submerged in a body of water somewhere. The pressure against my scales confirms the depth.
I open my eyes slowly, and I’m floating in dark, cold water that’s deep enough for my entire dragon form to be fully submerged except for my nostrils, which I’m instinctively keeping above the surface to breathe.
The water is murky—I can barely see more than a few dozen feet in front of me despite my enhanced dragon vision.
To my right, I see my father’s massive drake form submerged next to me, his black scales nearly invisible in the dark water. Only the occasional glint of light reflecting off his curved horns gives him away. Our sizes are nearly identical now—a sobering realization.
Blinking my sapphire eyes twice to clear my vision, I fully submerge my head beneath the water to look my body over, my natural ability to hold my breath for extended periods keeping me comfortable.
Minimal damage from whatever battle I was just in—a few scratches across my scales that are already healing, some tender spots along my ribs that will bruise.
And... I pause, confusion flooding through me.
I don’t remember what happened after they hit me with fire.
The memory just... stops. Like someone cut a film reel.
We are safe, my dragoness supplies, her voice calm and satisfied in my mind.
And my mates? I ask back, trying to keep the panic out of my mental voice.
Also safe, and so are your fathers. We found manticore and drow approaching our territory after destroying the golds. We melted the eastern border to protect our continent; she explains matter-of-factly, as if she’s discussing the weather rather than mass destruction.
I move to surface immediately, my massive form rising from the depths.
When I breach, water cascading off my scales in torrents, I look around, trying to get my bearings.
I have absolutely no idea where we are. The landscape is unfamiliar—rocky shores, dense forest in the distance, mountains I don’t recognize.
Corvus, Klauth, and Finlay stand on the shore watching me with expressions I can’t quite read—tiny figures from my current perspective.
My father Thauglor rises from the water after me with a surge of displaced liquid that sends waves crashing against the shore, and we both shift back to our human forms simultaneously.
The transformation leaves me dizzy for a moment, and suddenly I’m standing in waist-deep water, the cold hitting my now-human skin like a shock. The cold air hits my wet skin, raising goosebumps. “Where am I?”
“The northeastern part of our continent. Apparently, you’ve expanded Blackhaven’s reach significantly,” Klauth says as he moves closer to me cautiously, like I’m a bomb that might still explode.
His wariness sends a chill down my spine that has nothing to do with the cold water. “What did I do?” I look between both my fathers, then both my mates, searching their faces for clues.
“Apparently, your dragoness had enough sense to take the battle with the golds away from the populated areas,” Finlay starts, his voice carefully neutral.
“Unfortunately, you went into a bronze dragon’s territory that we didn’t know about,” Corvus continues, his silver eyes troubled. “Who happened to be hiding a population of drow and manticores—creating a threat literally in our backyard.”
“You dispatched the gold dragonesses efficiently, then proceeded to melt the entire territory until you were absolutely certain all the drow and manticores were dead,” Klauth explains, watching me closely.
“Then this one—” he hikes his thumb over his shoulder at Thauglor “—decided to help you claim the territory for Blackhaven officially.”
Dad shrugs his shoulders with zero remorse and smiles at me with genuine pride. “I’m so proud of my baby.”
I start pacing along the shoreline, my bare feet sinking slightly into the damp earth, looking at the body of water I was just submerged in.
“Is this part of the new territory?” I motion to the lake and really examine the area now.
It’s actually not bad, if I’m being honest with myself—defensible, with fresh water and excellent sight lines.
“It is,” Corvus says, and I can see whatever I did while my dragoness was in control; he’s having serious problems processing it. His hands keep clenching and unclenching at his sides.
“Why did I attack this territory specifically?” I look directly into Thauglor’s sapphire eyes—identical to mine—knowing he physically can’t lie to me. The bond between us won’t allow it.
“The drow fired a poisoned bolt at Corvus from the treeline,” Klauth says before Dad can answer, his voice tight. “If you hadn’t reacted as fast as you did, he would have died within minutes. You caught the bolt mid-air before it could strike him—snatched it right out of the air.”
My stomach drops at how close I came to losing my mate.
“Klauth and I started torching the forest to destroy the crossbows and anyone wielding them,” Finlay admits, and I can hear the edge of violence in his voice—the phoenix who would burn the world for his mate.
I reach down the bond tentatively, stroking along the connection to Corvus, not entirely sure how I feel about what I did. The memories are fragments—rage, fire, the satisfying crunch of gold dragon bones breaking.
We protected our mates and territory. They were too close to our nest. Must protect the future progeny, my dragoness says to me with absolute conviction.
She’s right, I realize with sudden clarity. The threat was literally in our backyard, close enough to strike at my mates. Close enough to threaten the nest and any future hatchlings.
The drow and manticore had to be eliminated completely, or they would have kept coming back. I look up at the sky, noting the position of the sun, and realize with dark humor what day it is.
Happy birthday to me. Twenty-two years old, and I just committed genocide to protect my family.
Somehow, I don’t feel as guilty about it as I probably should.
The guys’ original birthday plans for me were shot to shit when I went on my rampage yesterday. Guilt gnaws at me about messing up their carefully coordinated schedules, but in a sense, it’s probably better this way. At least no one can say my twenty-second birthday was boring.
When we return to the gathering grounds, the smell of smoke and blood still lingering in the air, we find out Abraxis had three duels while we were gone—and lost one.
The male who won looks like he almost died, barely standing upright as healers work on him.
Mom stands nearby with a satisfied smirk playing on her lips as I walk closer.
“What did I miss?” I hug my mother tightly, breathing in her familiar scent of steel and roses, and look at the male the doctors are frantically bandaging. His face is a mess of bruises and cuts.
“Abraxis got cocky. That male beat him in single combat while the ancients were gone dealing with your situation.” Mom’s voice carries approval rather than disappointment.
It makes perfect sense—the males waited for my dads to leave before going after Abraxis, knowing they’d have no chance otherwise.
“So if he won, why does he look like hell?” I arch a brow and smile, looking at my mom with dawning understanding.
“I took a page out of my daughter’s playbook and fought for myself,” she says with obvious pride, and that smirk widens. “Obviously, I won.”
We both laugh—the sound drawing attention from nearby dragons who immediately look away when they see our expressions.
“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” I say with genuine admiration. Ziggy approaches as I continue hugging Mom and hands us both crystal glasses of red wine. The liquid catches the afternoon light like liquid rubies.
“There’s talk happening. The elders sense the power difference between the two of you,” Ziggy says quietly, and my blood runs cold despite the warm afternoon sun.
Mom and I look at each other and roll our eyes in perfect synchronization.
We expected this happening eventually—it was inevitable once I reached wyrm status so young.
I want to laugh at the predictability of it all, but before I have the chance, the older dragons on the council are already moving toward us with a purpose in their strides.
“I think the jig is up, Mom.” I glance at her, then look across the crowd to Keir and make the subtle hand signal for the egg carrier. He nods once and blinks out of existence with that familiar pop of displaced air. We finish our wine and pass Ziggy the glasses.
Both my dads see the council moving and immediately start heading toward us, cutting through the crowd.
Corvus comes up behind me and hugs me from behind, his arms wrapping around my waist and his hands resting on my hips just under my wings.
“They’re up to something,” he murmurs against my ear before kissing my cheek.
“Ziggy says they sense the power difference between me and Mom. I mean, I kind of didn’t hide it when I lost my shit yesterday being attacked by three dragonesses at once.” I exhale hard, feeling the weight of what’s coming. “I have a plan, though.”
I lock eyes with Dad Thauglor across the space between us and step into his personal space, reaching up to grab his large hand and rest it against my cheek.
The familiar warmth of his palm grounds me.
I open our mental connection and let him see my plan in its entirety—every nuance, every calculated move.
‘Let the elders mention I’m stronger than Mom. I won’t deny it because it’s true. But I am the weapon my father will wield—his sword to strike with, his power to command. Together, we’re unstoppable.’