Chapter 36 Raven
Raven
“A word?” Klauth says and offers me his hand.
I glance at it for a moment, seeing the ancient scars that crisscross his knuckles—each one a story of survival.
After kissing Corvis one more time, breathing in his scent like I’m trying to memorize it, I step away.
I accept Klauth’s hand, his palm rough and warm against mine, and follow him away from the others.
My feet feel heavy, like I’m walking toward something I can’t take back.
“You needed me, Father?” I look up into Klauth’s crimson-flecked amber eyes, and I can see the concern flickering there like flames beneath ice. There’s something else too—fear, maybe, though I’ve never seen Klauth afraid of anything.
“I am very proud of you, Raven.” He pulls me close and hugs me, his massive arms engulfing me completely.
His skin is warm from the morning sun. “Do not take any risks that you can avoid. Those things on the other side of the mountain will not show mercy. They will not care that you are a female.” His voice drops lower, more urgent.
“They will not care that you are my nest daughter.” He presses his lips to my forehead, his dragon purring softly for me—a sound that rumbles through his chest and into mine.
It’s rare for Klauth to show affection to someone other than Mom.
The fact that he’s doing it now makes my stomach twist with anxiety.
I hug Klauth back and purr for him; the vibration easing some of the tension in my chest. “There are three reasons for me to come back, Father. You can bet your scaled bottom I’m going to fight like hell to make it back to my mates.
” I smile as I see Ziggy phase Hemlocke here, the air shimmering and folding before my mate materializes.
“Go see your mate before you have to go hunting.” Klauth says before releasing me, though his hands linger on my shoulders for just a moment longer than necessary.
I sprint across the open space, my wings spreading slightly for balance, and leap into Hemlocke’s arms, clinging to him.
His muscular arms band around me below my wings, holding me to him like I’m the most precious thing in the world.
Before I can say anything, his mouth crashes down on mine, kissing me thoroughly, desperately.
I can taste the fear on his lips mixed with something sweeter—love, devotion, the promise of tomorrow.
When we eventually break apart, both gasping for air, his unicorn vocalizes for me for the first time—a sound like wind chimes mixed with distant thunder.
Love is all I see in his magenta gaze. Love as pure as the freshly fallen snow on the mountains behind us.
“Kill anything that moves and make it home to me.” He’s fighting his unicorn for control, and I can see it as plain as the two black stars on his forehead—the way his pupils contract and expand, the slight tremor in his arms.
“That’s the plan. I have to make it home to you and Corvis and my cursed egg.
” I sip at his bottom lip, feeling the soft fullness, until I feel Corvis behind me—his presence like a warm shadow.
Flexing my wings, I open them wide and lean back to kiss Corvis while Hemlocke holds my hips firmly against his.
The sensation of being held between them grounds me, reminds me what I’m fighting for.
Someone clears their throat, and I laugh before looking at my brother Orpheus. “Someone’s been watching a little too much ScaleHub...” He waggles his eyebrows at me and laughs, breaking some of the tension that’s been building.
“Oh please, we didn’t see you for a week after you found your mate.
” I laugh as Hemlocke sets me back on my own two feet.
It’s now that I notice he has the egg carrier on his back so he could hold me.
The thought makes my heart swell as I look at Orpheus.
“Where is Ianthe?” I step away from my mates and take my brother’s hand, his skin cool beneath my fingers.
“She’s with Lily and the twins. The physician is coming today to put the implant in her arm.
We want to wait until we’re older to have a clutch or two.
” He says with an easy smile, then smirks.
“The terror twins are at it again!” We fist bump, the gesture so normal and familiar it almost makes me forget what’s coming.
We look at my father, who’s trying not to laugh at our antics, though I can see the worry lines deepening around his eyes.
“Remember to click like we used to do when we practiced with the hatchlings about what to do when there’s danger.
She’ll close her eyes or lower her head to hide her eyes.
” I swoop in and hug my brother tightly, breathing in his scent—earth and stone and safety.
Before looking at Balor, I hold on just a moment longer than necessary.
He nods at us, his expression grave, and then I look to my parents and the other parents of our nest. Two of their hatchlings are going on a rescue mission for another hatchling that we don’t know if she’s alive or not.
The weight of that uncertainty presses down on all of us.
Tilting my head, I nod at Ziggy, and he shifts on the spot, his form blurring and expanding.
Then Balor follows suit, his basilisk form uncoiling with deadly grace.
Without another word, I turn and walk away from everyone before shifting.
The transformation takes me fast—bones cracking and reforming, my body expanding outward in waves of power and pain.
Orpheus shifts and slithers up my body, his scales rough and cold against mine as he wraps around my horns with his head resting on my forehead.
He’s prepared to use his stone gaze to protect us.
Balor and Ziggy take position on my back, their weight settling between my wings.
Before I stand up, my father waves his hands to stop me, his expression shifting to something like awe.
“You have some white scales on your face, Raven.” Thauglor reaches out and touches the scales with reverent fingers. I know I saw at least three about a month ago—I guess there are more now. The white stands out stark against my black, marking me as something more than I was.
“I don’t even have white scales yet.” I hear Abraxis say in that spoiled brat tone he takes every time I’m ahead of him on something. The jealousy in his voice is almost palpable.
“You’ve hit wyrm status, Raven,” Mom says as she looks up at me, and I realize she’s right—they are further down now.
I look at my taloned front hands, seeing how much larger they are, then back over my body.
Ziggy and Balor would never have both fit back there two months ago. I’ve grown without even realizing it.
“Take off first. I’ll be right behind you.” Thauglor says with a wicked smile that shows too many teeth. Oh yes, the drow are in deep shit.
I wait for everyone to move to a safe distance before I back up, my muscles coiling like springs.
Then, I launch myself into the air, my powerful wings catching the wind.
Several massive beats and I’m gliding on the thermals over everyone, the wind rushing past my scales with a sound like tearing silk.
I feel Ziggy preening my scales to soothe me while we wait, his claws gentle and methodical.
Dad joins us moments later, his massive form dwarfing even my new size, and I follow him toward a mountain pass he knows about.
We hug the mountains tightly, our bellies nearly scraping the rock face, making sure not to be visible to whoever lurks below.
The trees are so densely packed down there it looks like a sea of dark green leaves stretching to the horizon.
It must be pitch black under there—perfect for drow to move around in without the sun burning their sensitive eyes.
Dad must have had the same thought I did because he swoops down suddenly and lays a thick band of acid a hundred yards from shore.
The trees hiss and smoke where his breath touches them, leaves curling and blackening.
For good measure, I follow up behind him and breathe my acid onto the trees fifty feet from the shoreline.
The acrid smell fills my nostrils—bitter and sharp like burning metal.
Nothing is going to come to their aid if we can help it.
We’re cutting off their reinforcements, their escape routes.
Dad’s taloned hand drops below his body, and that’s my signal to move.
I glide close to the water as I cross the lake, so low I can smell the decay rising from its surface.
The very tips of my wings touch the water with every flap, sending ripples in multiple directions that disturb the unnatural stillness.
The lake is cold—I can feel it through my wing membranes—and something about it feels wrong, like the water itself is watching us.
Silently, I land on the beach behind the cavern’s entrance, my claws sinking into sand that’s oddly warm.
Carefully, I lay down, allowing my family members to slide off.
Balor shifts back to human form, but Orpheus and Ziggy remain shifted—one basilisk wrapped around my horns, one displacer beast crouched beside me with his fur bristling.
“I’ll whistle as loud as I can when Ziggy pulls us from the cave.
” Balor says as he stands in front of me.
I nod so he knows I understood him before he leaves.
This could be the last time I see the three of them.
The thought makes my chest constrict, makes it hard to draw breath.
I watch them walk toward the cavern entrance—Balor’s human form wrapped in black leather, Orpheus slithering beside him, Ziggy’s displacer beast form flickering in and out of visibility.
Then, I start my next task. I bathe the beach around the island in acid, moving in a careful circle.
The stone and sand start melting around me, liquefying and bubbling, making the air turn toxic.
The chemical smell is overwhelming even to me—like ammonia mixed with sulfur.
Good thing black dragons are immune to the fumes.
I move into position to watch the cavern entrance, my body coiled tight as a spring, ready either to attack or flee.
Time stretches. Every second feels like an hour. My heart pounds in my chest — racing with anxiety.
Balor’s voice echoes from deep in the cavern, and then screams echo up to me—high-pitched and inhuman.
The drow. The scent of ozone fills my nostrils, sharp and electric, and then Ziggy appears next to me, Isolde limp in his arms. “She’s alive, just drugged.
” He says before vanishing again in a rush of displaced air.
Relief floods through me so intensely it makes me dizzy.
She’s alive.
My sister is alive.
I focus on the cavern, waiting for the whistle to come.
My talons dig deeper into the sand and pebbles below me, grinding them to powder.
Every muscle in my body is tense, ready.
Balor’s high-pitched whistle fills the air—three short bursts—and if my dragoness could smile, she would be grinning viciously.
Slowly, I fill my lungs with as much air as I can, feeling my chest expand to nearly twice its normal size.
The acid builds deep down in my gullet, burning and churning.
Opening my mouth wide, I turn it to a thick gas and let it flow down into the cavern like a living thing seeking prey.
With every deep breath I take, I release a thick mass of acid gas down the tunnel.
The smell is overwhelming—caustic and deadly.
My throat burns from producing so much so fast.
Wing beats echo above me, and I glance up to see my father preparing to land beside me, his massive shadow blocking out the sun. When he does, the ground trembles beneath his weight. He breathes his acid breath down the tunnel, adding to mine. His is darker, thicker, from centuries of age.
Between my father and me, we breathe enough acid gas that it no longer goes down the tunnel—it starts backing up, spilling out of the entrance like fog. The entire cavern must be full by now, every chamber, every crack saturated with our poison.
“Raven, take flight. I’m going to shift and strike it with my lightning to ignite it.” Mom says as she walks up Dad’s back, her small human form dwarfed by his dragon’s bulk.
Without hesitation, I take flight, my wings beating hard to gain altitude fast. Sand and melted stone spray behind me from the force of my launch.
I circle the island, climbing higher with each pass.
Dad launches next and circles below me, positioning himself between Mom and the blast zone.
I watch my mom take a running leap off his back, and for a heartbeat she’s falling.
Then, her iron and emerald dragoness explodes into existence—a transformation so violent it creates a shockwave I can feel from here.
I can feel the moment she summons her lightning—my scales want to stand on edge from the electrical charge building in the air. Every nerve in my body screams danger. The strike she lands is massive, a bolt of pure white lightning that slams into the gas-filled cavern like the fist of an angry god.
Unfortunately for us, the explosion is even bigger than we expected.
The sound is deafening—a roar that shakes the mountains themselves.
Fire erupts from every opening in the rock face, shooting skyward in columns of flame.
The concussion from the strike hits like a physical wall, knocking the air from my lungs in a single violent exhale.
My wings fold involuntarily, useless. The world spins—blue sky, black water, green trees, fire.
The last thing I see is the blue of the sky as I fall, tumbling end over end toward the dark water below.
Then everything goes black.