His gaze moves to the way my wing is spread out wide over one side of the nest, clearly sheltering something—someone—beneath it.
“Can I see her?”
Others see Thauglor as a monster. The most feared black dragon in history, with a kill count that spans millennia and a reputation written in the blood of his enemies. They see the white skull-face and the sapphire eyes that have watched civilizations rise and fall. They see death incarnate.
I see a father.
A father who loves his daughter so deeply he would risk his life to check on her. A father who stands before me with his hands slightly raised, his posture deliberately non-threatening, his ancient pride set aside in favor of quiet pleading. A father who just wants to know his baby is okay.
Slowly, I raise my wing to expose Raven and how she’s curled around her first egg.
She’s beautiful like this. Vulnerable in a way she rarely allows herself to be. Her black hair spills across the nest like dark silk, tangled and wild from sleep. Her black wings are tucked close to her body, one still draped protectively over the egg, the leather catching the bioluminescent glow. Her face is peaceful in sleep, long lashes fanning against her cheeks, her lips slightly parted. She looks young. Soft. Human, save for those magnificent wings.
The egg rests in the curve of her body, nearly three feet of obsidian perfection, the scale pattern on its shell a promise of the dragon within. Mother and daughter, already matching.
“My beautiful, precious baby.” Thauglor tilts his head from side to side, examining his daughter with the thorough assessment of a parent checking for injury. His sapphire eyes trace every line of her body, every scale, every slow breath. Making sure she’s okay. Making sure she’s whole.
“‘Twas an easy birth, auld friend.” Solaris steps forward and rests a hand on Thauglor’s shoulder. The gesture is familiar, comfortable—two ancient beings who have known each other for longer than most civilizations have existed. “Everything went smoothly. Yer daughter is strong.”
“That’s good to hear.” The relief in Thauglor’s voice is palpable, a physical thing that seems to drain the tension from his massive frame. His shoulders drop. His hands unclench. For just a moment, he’s not the feared warrior. He’s just a father, grateful his child is safe.
Raven stirs slowly beneath my wing, disturbed by the voices or perhaps by some instinct that tells her she’s being watched. She blinks her sapphire eyes open, hazy and unfocused, then looks up and around at the gathered males.
Her gaze finds her father.
“Hi, Daddy.” She yawns, the sound surprisingly adorable coming from a creature capable of melting stone with her breath. Even as she speaks, she continues to purr to her baby, the rumbling vibration never ceasing.
“How are you doing? How’s the little one?” Thauglor’s voice is carefully controlled, but I can feel it in my bones—he wants to ask to see the egg. Wants to touch it, to feel the life growing within. But he doesn’t want to anger his daughter. Doesn’t want to trigger the protective instincts that drove her to hide for three days. So he waits. He hopes. He asks without asking.
Raven’s response defies everything I know about dragons.
She pulls her wing back, exposing the egg fully. I stand up and move out of the nest, my talons finding purchase on the woven branches as I hop down to the sand. The grains are warm beneath my feet as I shift back to my human form, the transformation rippling through me in a wave of reforming bones and receding feathers.
“Meet your granddaughter.”
Raven sits the egg up in the nest, one hand steadying its base, the other cradling its curve. The shell catches the light as she shows off its size—nearly three feet of gleaming obsidian, the scale pattern intricate and beautiful, warmth radiating from within.
Then she does the one thing that defies all known dragon logic. She reaches out, takes her father’s hand, and places it on the shell. The silence that follows is deafening.
Thauglor freezes. His entire body goes rigid, his sapphire eyes wide with shock, his hand trembling against the warm surface ofthe egg. I can see the conflict in his face—the desperate desire to feel this moment fully warring with the instinct to pull away, to not overstep, to not ruin this impossible gift.
“She’s strong.” Raven’s soft smile makes my heart flip in my chest. There’s so much love in that expression. So much trust.
Thauglor runs his hand over the shell reverently, his touch as gentle as if he were handling the most fragile thing in existence. And perhaps he is. Not physically—dragon eggs are remarkably resilient—but emotionally. This moment is fragile. This gift is precious beyond measure.
“No elder male dragon has ever touched a viable egg of his progeny in all of my memory.” His voice is thick, rough with emotion he’s struggling to contain. He leans forward and presses a kiss to Raven’s forehead, his lips lingering against her skin. “Thank you for this great boon.”
I can tell by watching him that he’s holding his emotions back with everything he has. His jaw is tight. His throat works as he swallows repeatedly. His hand continues to stroke the shell with that same reverent touch, as if he can’t bear to break contact.
He clears his throat, visibly trying to get himself under control. When he speaks again, his voice is steadier, though still rough around the edges. “Your new siblings hatched last night. Everyone is healthy and strong.”
Raven’s face lights up, and Thauglor pulls out his phone, turning the screen toward her. I watch her eyes widen as she scrolls through the images, her finger swiping eagerly across the glass.
“My brothers look like me.” She smiles at the pictures, her voice soft with wonder. “They have my silver horns.”
I step closer, drawn by curiosity, and look over her shoulder at the images. The hatchlings are tiny, their scales dark and gleaming, their eyes already bright with intelligence. And there, curving back from their skulls, are the distinctive silver horns that mark Raven as her father’s daughter.
“They are fine-looking hatchlings.” I say, genuinely impressed. Strong. Healthy. Beautiful in the way all new life is beautiful.
