Chapter 36 #3
My mind wanders to my daughter Nova, to those mismatched eyes and those small wings, to the way she purrs when her mother holds her. The protective rage that rises in my chest is immediate and absolute. “I didnae know why ye didnae just melt it with yer acid, old friend.”
“I tried.” Thauglor’s expression shifts to frustration.
“It didn’t even scratch it. I was going to ask Raven to do it, but it was three in the morning, and having a new hatchling is a sleepless job.
” His smile softens as he looks over at all of Raven’s pictures in his office—baby photographs and childhood drawings, images of her at various ages, a visual timeline of the daughter he raised with such fierce devotion.
A separate shelf holds his newborn sons’ pictures, the frames new and polished.
“Aye, that’s the truth.” A yawn escapes my lips despite my best efforts, and I run my hand down my face. “I was up most of the night with Nova. Raven and the others needed sleep—they had work and school this morning.”
The exhaustion is bone-deep, but I would not trade it for anything. Those quiet hours holding my daughter, watching her breathe, marveling at the impossible miracle of her existence—they are worth every moment of lost sleep. “Do ye think we need tae back Abraxis up?”
“No,” Thauglor’s response is immediate, confident. “After what Raven did today, I think she’ll back him up personally.” He rises from his chair and walks to the window, looking out over the campus with an expression of quiet contemplation. “Their healing has been a long time coming.”
He’s silent for a moment, then continues.
“After Raven broke her wing and had to be treated, Abraxis really saw the extent of what his distance did to the family. He put himself into therapy.” Thauglor laughs softly, the sound carrying genuine warmth.
“When Raven started going—to deal with the broken wing and the near loss of flight—Abraxis went for support.”
He turns to face me, his sapphire eyes bright with pride. “It shocked the entire family.”
Nodding slowly, I look down at my phone as a notification buzzes against my palm. The family chat is active again, messages scrolling past faster than I can read them.
“This blasted thing will be the death of me.” I wave the phone at Thauglor with a rueful smile.
No sooner are the words out of my mouth than a message comes across. A simple symbol. Flames. Sent by Abraxis.
The signal of danger. The call for backup.
Soon after, the roar of my mate’s dragoness can be heard overhead—a sound that shakes the windows, that vibrates through my bones, that sends every instinct I possess into high alert. Corvus’s answering roar follows, deeper but no less urgent.
It’s a summoning roar. Raven is calling for backup.
Not that she needs it.
Nova is with Orpheus. Protect her. Raven’s voice echoes in my mind, clear and sharp, cutting through the panic that threatens to rise. The connection between us pulses with her presence—fierce, focused, utterly in control. She’s not afraid. She’s hunting.
I stare at her father, seeing the same realization dawn in his sapphire eyes.
“I’m going.” Thauglor doesn’t wait for a response. He runs to the window, his wings spread wide mid-stride, and leaps out into the open air.
I watch him transform as he falls—bones cracking, scales erupting, his massive black form blotting out the sun for a brief, glorious moment before he banks hard and soars toward the sound of battle.
But I don’t follow.
My mate can handle herself. She has her father and Corvus at her back, and whatever fool threatened her is about to learn why black dragons are called death incarnate.
My daughter, however, needs me.
I turn and stride out of the office, my footsteps quickening as I move through the corridors of Shadowcarve.
The roars continue overhead—Raven’s fury shaking the ancient stones, answered by the deeper rumble of her father and the sharp cry of Corvus’s war drake.
Students scatter out of my way, pressing themselves against walls, their faces pale with fear.
I close my eyes for a brief moment and reach inward, searching for that thread of connection that binds me to my daughter. It’s there—warm and pulsing, a golden strand of awareness that hums with her presence. My progeny. My blood. The first child I’ve sired in over a thousand years of existence.
The pull guides me eastward, toward the old gardens where ancient willows drape their branches like curtains of green and gold.
I break into a run, my ancient legs eating up the distance, my heart pounding with a father’s desperate need to protect.
The connection grows stronger with every step, Nova’s presence burning brighter in my awareness like a flame calling me home.
I find them beneath the largest willow, its trailing branches forming a sanctuary around them.
Orpheus stands with his back against the trunk, his gold eyes sharp and alert, his body positioned to shield Nova from any threat.
My daughter is cradled against his chest, her mismatched eyes wide but calm, her small wings tucked tight against her back.
“Solaris.” Orpheus’s voice is steady, but I can see the tension in his shoulders. “What’s happening?”
“Someone made a grave mistake.” I reach for my daughter, and Orpheus transfers her to my arms without hesitation.
The moment she settles against my chest, the bond between us flares—bright and warm and utterly right.
Nova coos at the familiar scent of her father, her tiny fingers curling against my shirt.
“I’m taking the wee one home. Stay hidden until Raven comes for ye. ”
Orpheus nods, his golden eyes flickering toward the sounds of battle in the distance. “Tell my sister to save a piece for me.”
Despite everything, I smile.
“I’ll pass along the message.”
I hold my daughter close, her warmth anchoring me, her heartbeat steady against my chest. The bond between us thrums with contentment—she knows she’s safe, knows her father has her, knows nothing will harm her while I draw breath.
Raven will handle the threat.
I will protect what matters most.