Page 35 of The Teacup Dragon Sanctuary

That music. She knew that music. It sounded like the song her father used to hum when lost in thought. But it couldn’t be, could it? He was dead. He was gone.

Turning around, she plunged deeper into the cave, following that pull because there wasn’t anything else she could do right now. It was like the song made her take leave of her senses, to follow it, the song which hummed inside her chest as if it had always belonged there.

‘Portia, wait!’ Noah cried out but she didn’t. She ran, deeper and deeper, the tunnel twisting and turning until it opened out like a cathedral. And in the middle of it, there was a pool of light, flickering, and faint. It couldn’t be there. It shouldn’t be.

The music filled the air. Died away. Came back. Like waves.

This was impossible. She knew that. There was nothing of this kind in here. The caves didn’t even go back this far and the light…

The light was dying, the song fading in and out. She drew in a shaky breath. Had she done this? No, please, no. This couldn’t be her fault as well. She had to fix it, put things right.

As if in a dream, she dropped to her knees and reached out to touch the flickering threads of light. They were cool and smooth in her hands, like crystal, but living and moving, and so unbearably gentle, curling around her skin the same way Jade habitually wound her tail around her wrist.

You can fix this, something seemed to whisper. Only you.

That was all she had ever wanted to do. Fix things. To help those whose magic was faltering and failing, whose connection to the thaumaturgical fields had been damaged. To repair all the harm her family had done. To help the dragons…

Portia opened her mouth and joined the song. She didn’t know the melody but her voice became part of it, and the threads responded, their song resurging through the air. She reached out with every magical sense inside her and the light ignited.

Threads of magical power rose beneath her like living vines, weaving together, parting and then plunging into the rocks again. The power wrapped itself around her whole body now, pulled her closer, weaving itself through her. She gasped in alarm, and then in shock as the magic in the air filled her as well. It wasn’t frightening. Perhaps it should be.

There was so much of it. Endless and without limit. It was a wonder.

‘Portia!’ Noah called out again as if from far away. And this time he sounded really concerned.

Something was wrong. Her heart raced and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. This wasn’t right. There was too much. The song was all around her and in her, and it was deafening, numbing. Her own magical abilities floundered, swamped in this natural vortex of power, as if it was drinking her down, taking everything from her, and leaving her just a shell of nothing. And then devouring that as well.

Noah’s arms enfolded her again, ripping her away from the prime threads, pulling her back into the darkness of the cave. The outer cave, she realised. The one ringed with moonflowers. He dragged her out in an instant, far too quickly, and she knew… she just knew… that couldn’t be right.

Noah said her name again, his frown so deep, his eyes so concerned. And she wanted to tell him what had happened, what she had seen. But she couldn’t find her voice. Everything went black.

* * *

Portia’s head pounded as if someone inside was banging it like a drum. But she was lying somewhere warm and dry and there was a cool cloth on her forehead and…

She tried to sit up, and everything hurt, everywhere. She let out a soft groan.

‘Don’t move,’ said Iris curtly. ‘What were you thinking? You foolish child. You had us all worried sick.’

Portia opened her eyes cautiously but the room was only dimly lit. Her bedroom, she realised. She was back in her own bedroom.

‘What happened?’ she asked, her voice grating on her throat painfully.

‘Poor Noah carried you back up here. As if we didn’t have enough to deal with at the moment. We could have lost – lost⁠—’

Suddenly her great-aunt’s voice broke and Portia was gathered up in her arms. And if it hurt, that didn’t matter, because Iris was holding her, and Iris was trembling.

A bang heralded the door to her room being flung open by a blast of magic so strong it could only have come from Seb. Her siblings rushed into the room, all three of them. Jade took flight, looping through the air to land on Portia’s side, burrowing in between her and Iris, keening softly until Iris was forced to release Portia for fear they might crush her, because the little teacup dragon was not going to be stopped. All the same her great-aunt stayed close, sitting on the edge of the bed as the others joined her. She held one of Portia’s hands, cradled between both of hers.

‘It’s all right,’ Portia tried to reassure them all. It didn’t help that her voice came out hoarse and croaky. ‘I’m all right.’

‘Jade woke me,’ August told her, taking her hand from Iris’s and squeezing tight. ‘Frantic, trying to claw her way through the door. That’s when we realised you weren’t here. And then Noah brought you back and⁠—’

‘Oh, Wenn below,’ she tried to argue. ‘This is ridiculous. I just – I needed⁠—’

‘He told us,’ Ophelia snapped. ‘Really, Portia, flowers?’

‘They’re the cure,’ Portia protested. ‘For the dragons. Art has a recipe. A universal remedy?’