Jabir smiled at his friends. He laughed and wound his arm around Roam. Roam blinked up at him in surprise.
“Dang, Jabir! What have you been eating? You’re taller than me now!” Roam exclaimed.
“Heck, it looks like he’s grown at least an inch or two just in the last week!” Bálint said.
Jabir laughed before he saw all his friends staring at him in amazement. He realized that he was at least as tall as Zohar now—and as broad, if not broader.
Maybe being hungry all time make us grow. His dragon beamed.
Maybe we’ve hit that growing spurt mom always said would come, he chuckled.
In the shadows, an elegant Manticore with gold eyes observed the gathering. Aminta sighed as she watched the group of young Dragonlings excitedly making plans. Her gaze softened when she looked at the Empress of the Monsters. In her eyes, Nali would always be the special, beautiful child that she had brought to this world centuries before.
She turned her gaze to the young boy who, almost overnight, had turned into a handsome, brave young man. Each of the dragonlings had a beautiful heart and had proven they would be strong, compassionate leaders in a universe that could be cruel. But this dragonling held a special place in her heart. His gentleness and compassion had been needed to heal the rift between the land and water.
Jabir turned toward the dam. “Come morning,” he said, “we’ll start.”
Behind him, the villagers—monsters and Dragonlings alike—rose in quiet agreement, ready to begin the work of healing a wound long ignored.
“Yes, young prince, your healing touch holds a special magic,” Aminta murmured before she left to check on another prince whose gentle heart also ached for his son.
Valdier
* * *
Mandra’s arms were folded over his chest, but appearing composed was a lost cause. His heart was too full. The screen in front of him glowed with the flickering torchlight from the dock, casting a soft, golden hue across the faces of everyone packed into the observation room.
It was full to bursting.
Not just with fathers.
The mothers had returned the morning after Ariel had arrived home, storming into the palace with fire in their eyes and the collective energy of a maternal army sensing trouble. They had barely waited for the men to finish telling him what they knew before demanding access to the recorded footage.
Trelon had grumbled, “Maybe we shouldn’t be eavesdropping on the kids,” scratching the back of his neck as if trying to peel off his guilt.
Cara’s sharp look had sliced through the room.
“You’re kidding, right?” she snapped. “I missed the girls taking on pirates! If you think I’m going to miss anything else, you better be prepared for your scales to get toasted.”
And that had been the end of that.
Now they were all crowded together, watching their children discover a multitude of unusual creatures, outwit pirates, navigate strange lands, and, somehow, find their way back to each other.
But, in the end, it was Jabir who had Mandra’s gaze locked.
On the screen, his son stood tall and unflinching before the Siren Queen, her fury like a tempest in the cavern. And then—later—when Jabir faced the villagers, his voice low but steady, fierce in its truth… Mandra felt something deep and visceral shift inside him.
Pride didn’t even begin to describe it.
Jabir wasn’t just his son anymore. He was a leader.
Ariel leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder, her fingers laced with his. He could see the moisture in her eyes even before she sighed.
“They’re not little anymore,” she whispered. “Look at them. Look at him.”
“I am,” he murmured, bending to kiss the crown of her head. Then, softly, “Thank you… for being the incredible mother you are. For being my love.”
Ariel turned her face up to his, her eyes shining with emotion. He couldn’t help himself—he kissed her again, this time on the lips, lingering in the warmth of her love.
