“I’ll swim out with you.” I step forward, meeting Orpheus’s gaze. “Worst case, I'll grab you and bring you back here in a blink.”
I hope beyond hope she lets her twin close. I hope the bond they share—forged in the womb, strengthened through a lifetime of protecting each other—is enough to pierce through the primal fog of her dragoness.
Orpheus stares at the stone fortress for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is quiet. Resolved.
“I’ll do it. But since she’s shifted, her dragoness will accept my basilisk faster than my human form.” A faint smile ghosts across his lips. “It’s how we slept as hatchlings.”
He shifts.
The transformation ripples across his body like water—bones reshaping, skin giving way to iridescent scales that shimmer silver and black in the dim light. His face elongates, draconic features sharpening his jaw and brow, silver spikes crowning his head like a deadly halo. His basilisk form is beautiful in the way a blade is beautiful—elegant and lethal.
He slithers into the dark water without fear, his serpentine body cutting through the surface with barely a ripple.
I dive in after him; the heat embracing me once more. He slows his pace so I can stay close, and we move together through the mineral-rich water toward the stone fortress. My heart pounds against my ribs with each stroke.
When we reach the back side of the island, Orpheus makes a sound I’ve never heard before. It’s somewhere between a dragon’s rumble and a basilisk’s hiss—a call that resonates in my chest, ancient and instinctual.
That great white skull emerges from the darkness.
I freeze, treading water, every muscle tensed to blink at the first sign of aggression. But Orpheus doesn’t hesitate. He slithers onto the small black sand beach and rises to meet her, his black scales catching the faint bioluminescent glow.
They press the flat plates of their foreheads together.
The gesture is tender. Intimate. A greeting between twins who have known each other since before they drew breath.
She allows him into the darkness with her.
The skull recedes into the void, and Orpheus follows, his serpentine form disappearing into the nest she carved for herself.
I swim back to shore with shaking limbs and flop onto the sand, chest heaving. The grains are warm beneath my back, clinging to my wet skin. I stare up at the bioluminescent moss clinging to the cavern ceiling, its soft blue-green glow pulsing like a slow heartbeat.
“She allowed him into the nest with her.” The words come out between ragged breaths. Relief and exhaustion warred in my chest.
“All we can do is wait now.” Thauglor’s voice is heavy. “I’ll send Ziggy to hunt when you tell me.”
A second later, Ziggy pops into existence—all tentacles and displaced air—wraps around Thauglor, and vanishes with him before anyone can react.
It’s just us now. Just the five of us, waiting for the egg to be laid.
“I’ll be back.” Finlay’s voice is tight, his eyes burning with an inner fire I haven’t seen since we first bonded. He stares at an area on the black sand beach, and I follow his gaze to the space he marked off days ago.
Understanding dawns.
The phoenix is going to build a nest for Raven.
