Chapter 14
Chapter
Fourteen
It’s been almost a month since the eggs were laid, and Callan has become an absolute menace.
My usually levelheaded bond mate barely lets anyone outside of our beloved Mina close to the nest. The protective instincts of a gryphon on a nest are nothing to mess with.
I’ve learned to respect that fierce devotion—it mirrors my own feelings for our extraordinary dragoness.
One of his brief bathroom breaks was the only chance we got to examine the eggs up close, and even then, his golden eyes tracked our every movement from across the chamber.
“I don’t think they’re going to wait the full forty days,” Klauth observes, his ancient voice carrying the weight of millennia as he gazes down at the three precious eggs nestled between our older hatchlings.
“What makes you say that?” I ask, though even as the words leave my lips, I’m already phasing closer to get a better look.
That’s when I see it—the gryphon egg is already showing hairline fractures across its surface.
My eerie green eyes, glowing brighter with excitement, scan the other eggs.
Only the gargoyle egg displays a similar crack, while Lee’s nightmare egg remains stubbornly intact.
The sight fills me with a mixture of anticipation and protective urgency. These aren’t just any hatchlings—they’re our family, extensions of the bonds that tie me to Mina, to my brothers-in-arms, to this wonderful nest we’ve created together.
“Can you sense if Lee’s egg is ready?” My gaze darts between the two ancients, noting the subtle tension in their massive forms. Mina moves anxiously closer to her precious clutch, her maternal instincts in full force, and my heart swells with love for this incredible female who has bound us all together with threads stronger than steel.
“It doesn’t have an egg tooth,” Thauglor rumbles, his concern evident. “Quick, get them into the chamber.”
Without hesitation, the ancients, and Abraxis swoop in to carefully gather the eggs.
Years of friendship and shared battles have taught me when action trumps discussion.
I phase immediately, my displacer beast abilities carrying me through the fabric of space itself to find Vaughn and Leander.
The familiar rush of displacement magic feels like coming home—it’s as much a part of me as my midnight-black hair or the way my eyes burn with that supernatural green fire when emotions run high.
The metallic ring of swords clashing echoes through the training ring as I materialize to find Lee and Vaughn working with the students. Both men are in their element, but the sight of them—these males who have become more than friends, who are truly my brothers now—fills me with urgent purpose.
“We need to go.” It’s all I manage before both men rush toward me, their trust in me absolute.
The moment their hands find purchase on my shoulders, I phase us through time and space, pulling them along in the wake of my displacement magic.
We emerge into the birthing chamber where everyone waits with barely contained anxiety.
“What’s happening?” Vaughn blurts out, but his question dies as his eyes fall on Mina in her dragon form, protectively curled around the eggs.
“My baby!” Leander’s voice cracks with raw emotion as he races across the room, only to slide to a stop before Mina’s massive dragoness form.
The sight of my friend—this powerful nightmare reduced to an anxious father—tugs at something deep in my chest. “Why isn’t the egg cracked?
” His eyes dart between the adults before settling on the dragon hatchlings circling the eggs like tiny, protective sentinels.
What happens next fills me with pride for our extended family.
Raven, our precious daughter, rears up on her hind legs.
With a powerful swipe of her silver talons—so like her mother’s—she cuts several deliberate slices through the shell of Leander’s egg.
Another calculated swipe creates a proper opening, and suddenly a black and green horse’s snout pushes through, taking its first gasping breath of life.
Raven remains positioned protectively in front of the egg, using her sharp talons to methodically help break away more shell.
When Mina rumbles something in the dragon tongue.
Raven turns to look up at her mother, her sapphire eyes blazing with the same inner fire that makes my green gaze burn brighter.
She returns to her task with renewed determination.
“Raven says the shell is harder than her own was,” Thauglor translates, his voice heavy with understanding. “The hatchling didn’t have an egg tooth, and she could hear it struggling inside.”
“Thank you, Raven,” Leander calls out, his gratitude clear. Raven responds with a pleased purr that vibrates through the chamber. Once she’s freed enough of the shell, she backs away expectantly, lifting and lowering her front legs in a distinctive prancing motion.
“She’s showing the hatchling how her legs work,” Thauglor explains, then pauses as realization hits him. His ancient eyes widen slightly as he looks at Leander with new understanding.
The wonder of it all washes over me as we watch the foal take its first tentative steps out of the destroyed shell.
Within heartbeats, my daughters Bella, and Azalea are at her side, their tentacles gently supporting the newborn.
The filly is absolutely stunning—mottled jade and black coloring her coat, with a silver mane and fuzzy tail that catch the chamber’s light.
Her hooves gleam silver like Mina’s and Raven’s talons, and I suspect they’ll prove just as formidable.
“Girls, phase the foal over here to her daddy,” I call out, my voice warm with paternal pride. My daughters have grown into such capable, caring young females, and watching them help their newest sister fills my heart to bursting.
Lee stands ready with a towel, every line of his body taut with nervous energy.
When my daughters phase the foal to us, she releases a loud, piercing whinny that echoes through the chamber.
Lee hands me the towel, and I know exactly what he’s planning.
Sure enough, Leander shifts in place, his massive nightmare stallion form towering over his newborn daughter.
Her spindly legs wobble as she instinctively moves to lean against her father’s sturdy legs for support.
I hold out the towel, allowing the foal to catch my scent first. “I’m going to dry you off, little one,” I murmur soothingly.
“It’s okay. Your daddy is right beside you, and that magnificent dragoness over there is your mama.
” I gesture toward Mina, who purrs and lowers her magnificent head to sniff delicately at the baby.
It’s then that I notice something remarkable—the foal has vertical slits for pupils instead of the horizontal ones her father possesses. Dragon eyes. Mina’s influence showing through in this perfect blend of nightmare and dragon heritage.
As I gently rub the towel over the foal’s trembling form, my fingers detect something unexpected beneath the soft fur.
“She has scales under her fur, like my daughters!” I announce excitedly to the others, and they nod with understanding.
Mina has gifted her children with natural armor—a mother’s protection woven into their very beings.
“She’s a beautiful foal, Leander,” Balor says admiringly, moving closer for a better look at the newest addition to our ever-growing family.
Leander tosses his head and vocalizes—a sound I’ve learned to interpret after years of friendship.
His daughter attempts to mimic her father’s call but loses her balance in the process.
My displacer beast reflexes kick in, and I catch her before she can fall.
“Easy, little one. Those legs are brand new,” I chuckle, steadying her as I continue the gentle drying process.
I notice Leander growing increasingly agitated, his massive form shifting restlessly. “What’s wrong?” I ask, though Balor answers before my friend can respond.
“Foals need to run shortly after birth,” he explains, and Leander tosses his head in confirmation.
Understanding floods through me. This isn’t just parental anxiety—it’s survival instinct.
In the wild, a foal that can’t run is a dead foal.
“Need me to get you outside?” I glance over my shoulder toward the other eggs, noting they’re not close to hatching yet.
We have time for this crucial test. Looking back at Leander, I see him toss his head again in clear agreement.
“Bella, you and Azalea help get the little one to the ground floor. I’ll get Leander down there,” I instruct. Within seconds, my daughters have their tentacles wrapped carefully around the foal, and they’re gone—phased away to safety below.
“Okay, big guy, your turn.” I wrap my arms around Leander’s powerful neck, feeling the heat radiating from his nightmares form. The familiar tingle of displacement magic courses through me as I phase us both downstairs in a single heartbeat.
We materialize to find the foal already following my daughters as they walk in a slow, encouraging circle.
I release Leander and step back to watch what happens next.
My friend ignites his mane, tail, and the fur around his hooves in supernatural flame—a display of the nightmare’s true power.
His daughter stares in fascination, then looks down at her own small hooves.
There, barely visible but unmistakably real, are tiny flickering white flames dancing around her feet.
Pride and pure elation swell in my chest as I watch this magical moment between father and daughter unfold before us.
Leander makes a sound unlike any I’ve heard from him before.
A gentle, encouraging vocalization pitched perfectly for his offspring, filled with such tender love that it makes my eyes burn with happy tears.
He arches his neck majestically and stomps his front hoof before beginning to prance away with fluid grace, every movement a masterclass in equine beauty.
His daughter hesitates for just a moment, uncertainty flickering in her dragon-slitted eyes, and my breath catches in my throat.
Then instinct and trust take over, and she trots after him with increasing confidence.
Within seconds, Leander picks up speed, and his foal follows behind him without missing a beat, her tiny hooves striking the ground with surprising strength.
The fear that she might not run evaporates like morning mist, replaced by overwhelming relief and celebration coursing through my veins.
“Yes! Look at her go!” My heart practically sings with triumph as I watch them move together—father and daughter, nightmare and dragon-nightmare hybrid, both strong and capable and gloriously, magnificently free.
At least now we can rest easier knowing she has the strength to flee if danger ever threatens our family.
But even as I savor this moment of triumph, my thoughts drift back upstairs.
There are still two more hatchlings waiting to enter the world, and knowing my family, I can only imagine what chaos might have erupted in my absence.
My eerie green eyes glow brighter with anticipation as I prepare to phase back and rejoin the vigil.
After all, this is what being part of this extraordinary family means—being there for every precious moment, every triumph, every challenge. Mina chose us all for a reason, binding us together with bonds stronger than blood. I wouldn’t trade this chaotic, wonderful life for anything in any realm.