Chapter 21 Finlay #2
They crash-land together in the field with devastating force.
Dirt and rocks go flying everywhere like shrapnel as a deep crater is carved into the earth from the impact.
The sound is deafening—like thunder and an earthquake combined.
He skids for several hundred feet, his body wrapped around hers like armor, leaving deep furrows in the ground before eventually sliding to a stop.
I can only assume that’s Solaris based on his coloring and the way he has himself folded protectively around Raven, shielding her from the worst of the impact.
“Don’t try to approach—he’s unbonded!” Klauth yells urgently as he physically holds the assembled family back, keeping everyone at a safe distance and giving Solaris a wide berth. His voice carries a warning and authority.
“You think black dragons are possessive and territorial? Orange dragons make us look pleasant and easygoing by comparison,” Thauglor says grimly as he moves forward slowly with his hands raised in a non-threatening gesture. “Old friend, I’d like to see my daughter. I mean no harm.”
We all wait, holding our collective breath to see what Solaris may do. The tension is thick enough to cut.
Corvus shifts back to human form and immediately bends over, retching violently. He finally empties his stomach contents onto the grass in painful heaves. “I don’t know how she stayed awake,” he gasps between ragged breaths, sweat beading on his pale face.
I move alongside him immediately to get him to lean against a nearby boulder for support, steadying him with careful hands. “What do you mean? What happened during the flight?”
“I didn’t eat as much as Raven did at dinner.
I passed out behind her horns for a while—just completely unconscious.
” His voice is hoarse and weak. “Whatever Amadeus gave us was incredibly strong. Military-grade sedative, probably.” Keir appears and offers Corvus a water bottle, which he accepts with shaking hands.
Looking up toward the crater, I watch Solaris slowly lift his massive wing with deliberate care.
There, curled up beneath the protective membrane, is Raven’s dragoness.
She has her legs and tail pulled up tight and tucked inside her own wings.
Her curved horns rest outside of her wings while the main bone ridge covers her eyes and face completely.
She lays curled small between Solaris’s powerful legs and beneath his wings, fully protected from the world.
Her dragoness is about two-thirds his size and looks incredibly small and vulnerable while she sleeps—nothing like the terrifying predator I know she is.
“She used to sleep exactly like that when she was a hatchling,” Thauglor says softly, and his smile doesn’t reach his sapphire eyes. The memory clearly pains him. “Will you permit her phoenix mate to come and heal her, and you as well if you need it?” he asks Solaris with formal courtesy.
We wait for the response, and I can hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears.
Solaris lifts his enormous head high and turns to look directly at me with ancient amber eyes that have seen centuries pass. Then he looks down at Raven sleeping beneath him. I nod once in acknowledgment and start walking forward slowly, making no sudden movements.
When I get close enough, I can see where my feather has been incorporated into her body—the orange and gold plumage forms the edging on several of Raven’s neck scales, growing there like it was always meant to be part of her.
Solaris touches those specific scales with his nose gently, then looks back at me with what might be approval or gratitude.
“Yeah, I gifted her that feather,” I confirm quietly.
“It probably protected her enough to get her this far home—kept the toxins from stopping her heart.” Slowly, I reach out and rest my hand on her wing near the claw at the peak, feeling the warmth of her scales beneath my palm.
I extend my phoenix senses as far as they can go, pushing my awareness into her body, trying to feel if Raven is truly alright or if there’s hidden damage.
From what I can feel, it’s just profound exhaustion now—the bone-deep weariness that comes from pushing your body past every limit.
Whatever the toxin was, it’s long gone, burned away by her metabolism and my feather’s influence.
“She’s just exhausted. I don’t sense any toxin left in her system or poison remaining. ”
I hold my hands up to Solaris in a gesture of peace and offering. “May I heal you? You may have sustained injuries protecting our mate Raven during the crash landing.”
He rumbles deeply—a sound that vibrates through the ground beneath my feet—and looks toward Thauglor and Klauth for guidance or permission.
“He says he would appreciate it greatly,” Klauth translates the dragon’s rumbling before looking back toward his nest with obvious reluctance.
“I’m going to head home and guard the eggs.
If Raven hasn’t shifted back by dawn, I’ll switch out with you, Thauglor.
We can’t leave our daughter and her mates unprotected this close to the Velician Mountains—not with enemies potentially pursuing. ”
I rest my hand on Solaris’s neck, close to what would be his shoulder, and start passing healing energy through him. I can feel cracked ribs, strained muscles, torn wing membrane—all injuries from shielding Raven during the impact. My phoenix fire flows into him, knitting tissue and mending bone.
“Hopefully, I’ll be home soon,” Thauglor says, looking at Raven with paternal love and worry warring in his expression. “Everyone keeps trying to kill or kidnap my baby. First the drow, then the dominance challenges, now this.”
Solaris rumbles again—longer, more complex—and Thauglor nods sadly as Klauth shifts into his massive red dragon form and takes flight. The downdraft from his wings makes the torches gutter and flare.
“I know she’s a powerful female. There’s more to her than even you know yet,” Thauglor says quietly to Solaris.
“She’s a chimera—blood daughter of mine, Klauth, and Balor, who is a basilisk.
Her mother, Mina, is an iron dragon and green dragon crossbreed.
She carries five distinct dragon bloodlines plus basilisk traits. ”
Solaris’s head suddenly raises up sharply, and he looks down at Raven sleeping peacefully under his wing. Then he looks back at her father and rumbles again—a questioning sound.
“I know,” Thauglor confirms with a slight smile. “Any child you or Corvus father will probably become the strongest dragon on the continent, possibly all five continents. Raven’s immunities and gifts are unrivaled. She’s unique in all of dragon history.”
Thauglor steps forward and rests a hand on his friend’s wing with obvious affection. “Rest now, old friend. It is my honor to watch over the two of you tonight.”
Thauglor steps away and shifts into his Great Wyrm black dragon form—slightly larger than Solaris, ancient beyond measure—and sits close like a massive sentinel. His presence alone would give any enemy pause.
Corvus has fallen asleep again, slumped against the boulder with exhaustion written in every line of his body.
Keir’s sand-colored blink hound form prowls the perimeter restlessly, his soulless black eyes scanning for threats.
Hemlocke’s black unicorn keeps lifting his head to put his nose to the wind, testing for unfamiliar scents carried on the breeze.
I settle near Raven where I can see her, shifting back to human form to conserve energy. The night air is cool against my skin after burning so hot as a phoenix.
This is going to be a very long night of standing guard, but I wouldn’t be anywhere else. My mate is home and safe, and that’s all that matters. Though when she wakes up, we’re going to have a very serious conversation about declaring war on the Western Continent.