“That’s Ruby.” Klauth’s voice comes from somewhere to my left, warm with paternal pride. The little dragoness turns to look at him, her tail swishing against the ground. “Ruby, that’s your big sister Raven.”
Ruby approaches cautiously, her claws clicking softly on the stone. Up close, I can see the delicate ridges of her scales, the tiny horns just beginning to bud from her skull. I reach out and touch her, running my fingers along the smooth plates of her head.
“You have strong scales, Ruby.”
I look up at Klauth, meeting his ancient eyes, and he nods. Relief flickers across his features. This time, his child has good armor. This time, she’ll be protected.
“If you ever need me, little sister, call me.” I lean forward and press a kiss to the flat plate on her forehead. Her scales are warm beneath my lips, smooth as polished stone. “I’ll melt the world for you.”
Ruby chirps softly, pressing her head into my palm, and something in my chest swells with fierce, protective love. Another soul to guard. Another life to fight for.
I stand and turn, my gaze seeking out the two black hatchlings standing next to my father. My brothers.
I walk away from Hemlocke, crossing the courtyard in long, purposeful strides. The sun beats down on my bare shoulders, warming my scales, making them glitter. My father watches me approach, his sapphire eyes—so like my own—soft with an emotion he rarely allows himself to show.
He opens his arms, and I dive in. His embrace is solid, warm, smelling of smoke and ancient stone and something uniquely him. I purr softly against his chest; the sound vibrating through my body, through his. For a moment, I’m not a mother or a mate or a warrior. I’m just a daughter, safe in her father’s arms.
The hatchlings at his feet chirp at me, their tiny voices demanding attention. They climb over each other, over my father’s legs, trying to reach me. Their claws catch on my gown, their wings flap uselessly, their tails whip back and forth with excitement.
Slowly, I pull back from my father and kneel, bringing myself closer to my brothers. I let my dragoness rise—just enough for them to feel her presence, to sense the predator lurking beneath my human skin. The power rolls off me in waves, heavy and ancient and unmistakably black dragon.
They stop. They stare. Their chirping falls silent; their struggling ceases. Two pairs of sapphire eyes fix on me with sudden, instinctual understanding. They know what I am. They feel it in their bones. “I’m your big sister, Raven.”
I reach out and touch both of my brothers simultaneously, one hand on each small head. Their scales are slightly soft—still hardening, still developing—and warm beneath my palms. I purr to them, a low rumbling sound that I feel more than hear, a greeting in the ancient language of our kind.
“The hatchling on your left is Maur,” Dad says, his voice thick with emotion. “And the one on your right is Balterion.”
I look at each of them, memorizing their faces, their scents, the subtle differences in their scale patterns. Maur’s eyes are slightly brighter, more curious. Balterion’s jaw is stronger, more stubborn.
“Hello, brothers.” I kiss each of them on the forehead, lingering over the flat plates that mark them as my father’s sons. My blood. My family.
“Your cousin is due to arrive soon.” I smile and look up at my father, watching his reaction. Thauglor’s eyes go wide.
Understanding dawns across his face—shock, then joy, then a fierce, burning pride that mirrors my own. His sapphire gaze darts toward the courtyard where Corvus guards my egg, then back to me. I bring my finger to my lips and shush him softly. Not yet. Let it be a surprise.
I turn back to my brothers, settling more comfortably on my knees. The stone is warm beneath me; the sun is hot on my wings. My brothers stare up at me with those wide sapphire eyes, so young, so innocent. They don’t know yet what the world holds. They don’t understand the dangers that lurk in the shadows, the enemies who would destroy them simply for who they are.
But I do.
“Remember, little brothers.” My voice is low, serious. I need them to understand this. Need them to carry these words in their hearts. “We are death incarnate, feared because of our bloodline and what we are. We are black dragons. I am a skull dragon, like our father.”
I pause, letting the weight of those words settle over us. The courtyard has gone quiet around us—I can feel the eyes of my family watching, listening.
“I swear to you...” I bend down and kiss the flat plate on each of my brothers’ foreheads, letting my lips linger against their scales. “I will make this continent safe before you or your cousin are my age.”
I bite the side of my thumb. The pain is sharp, bright, grounding. Blood wells up immediately, dark and hot, smelling of iron and something deeper—the ancient power that runs through my veins. I press my bloody thumb to the plate on Maur’s forehead first, leaving a crimson smear against his dark scales. Then Balterion.
“With this blood, this I swear.” The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. An oath. A promise. A vow written in the only language that truly matters to our kind.
I look up and see the tears in my father’s eyes. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. I can see everything in those sapphire depths—pride and love and fierce, terrible determination. We have an oath of our own, he and I. An understanding forged in shared blood and shared loss and shared fury.
This continent will know the rage of two black dragons working to make it safe for all future generations.
No matter what it costs us.
No matter who stands in our way.
I rise to my feet, my brothers chirping softly at the loss of contact, and I feel my egg pulse in the distance—a flutter of movement, a shift of life preparing to emerge.
My daughter is coming.
And she will be born into a world where her mother has sworn to protect her with blood and acid and every ounce of power I possess.
