The perfect, almost calligraphic script practically screams Allister’s name to anyone familiar with his distinctive handwriting style. Allister has always taken pride in his penmanship, viewing it as another way to show his inherent superiority.
Mina shakes her head with fond exasperation as she fixes Allister with an amused look. “Sure, I’ll put in a formal request with management and see what I can arrange.”
Allister’s smugly satisfied smile blooms across his face as he settles back into his cushion with the air of someone who has just won a significant victory. He returns to studying his perfectly manicured nails with the casual arrogance that makes it clear he considers this conversation concluded in his favor.
Balor nearly chokes on his beer at Mina’s diplomatic response, dissolving into a coughing fit that suggests he found her answer far more amusing than he was prepared for.
“Can playtime with the other dragons be extended?“ Abraxis continues, and the adorable doodles decorating the margins ofthe paper immediately identify it as Thorne’s contribution to tonight’s discussion.
“That’s a very reasonable request,” Abraxis agrees with a warm smile, his paternal instincts clearly approving of the thoughtful way the question was presented. “Once homework assignments and practice sessions are completed, additional playtime can certainly be allocated for social activities.” He glances toward Mina for confirmation, receiving her encouraging nod and smile in response.
“One more question, and then everyone needs to get ready for bedtime,” Mina announces, her voice carrying just enough maternal authority to forestall any potential arguments about the evening’s conclusion.
“Why does Orpheus get to play with the black dragon hatchlings when the rest of us can’t?“ Abraxis reads, and this question catches all of us off guard with its unexpected complexity and underlying implications.
The handwriting clearly belongs to Azalea, one of my daughters, and the hurt underlying her carefully formed words makes my chest tighten with protective instincts.
I glance from my daughter to Abraxis, then over to Mina, silently hoping she’ll field this particular question with her characteristic wisdom and diplomacy.
“That’s an excellent question, sweetheart,” Mina responds thoughtfully, her gaze settling on the three children in question. “Girls, why do you allow Orpheus to join your activities while excluding the other children?”
Lily and Raven lower their heads in a brief, private conference before Raven envelops all three of them within her darkwings. Whatever they’re discussing behind that leathered curtain carries the weight of secrets too important for casual observation.
When Raven finally opens her wings and steps forward, the transformation in her posture is startling. She approaches her birth father with formal precision, dropping to one knee and spreading her leather wings wide as she lowers her head in a display of complete submission that seems far too mature for her young age.
“May we speak privately, Father?” Raven’s request carries a gravity that makes every adult in the room suddenly alert to the seriousness of whatever revelation is about to unfold.
The formal submission stance tells us that whatever she needs to share weighs heavily on her young heart, requiring the privacy that only comes with serious family discussions.
Thauglor exchanges a meaningful look with Mina before gesturing for the other children to leave the room along with most of the non-dragon family members. His motion for Balor to remain suggests that whatever’s about to be revealed may require the basilisk’s particular expertise or understanding.
Once the room has cleared of everyone except the core adults and the three children in question, Thauglor gently touches Raven’s shoulder with fatherly tenderness.
“Speak freely, little one,” he encourages, his ancient voice warm with unconditional love and acceptance.
Raven rises gracefully, and Lily immediately moves to her side, gripping her hand with the desperate intensity that speaks to shared fears and secrets. Orpheus takes Raven’s other hand, and suddenly the three of them form a united front—a smallpod within our larger clutch that has clearly been dealing with challenges we adults haven’t fully understood.
“We’re not afraid of accidentally hurting Orpheus during play,” Raven states with startling directness, her youthful voice carrying the weight of mature understanding.
“I’m completely immune to Raven’s acid and Lily’s lightning abilities,” Orpheus explains with the matter-of-fact tone of someone stating an obvious scientific fact.
“And we’re immune to his stone gaze,” Lily adds, giving Raven’s hand a supportive squeeze that speaks to their deep bond and mutual understanding.
“So you’ve been keeping the other children safe by self-isolating?” Abraxis asks, his voice heavy with the realization of what these children have been carrying alone.
“I’m incredibly proud of you for protecting the others,” Balor says as he moves to kneel closer to his son, his fatherly pride clear despite the protective sunglasses that hide his eyes. “What we can do as basilisks can’t be undone once it’s been triggered.”
He reaches into his jacket and produces a pair of spare sunglasses, offering them to Orpheus with gentle ceremony. “When you feel stressed or angry, I want you to put these on immediately. They’ll protect everyone around you. Powerful emotions will make our shifted abilities rise to the surface automatically to defend us.”
Balor draws his son into a fierce hug before looking back toward the other fathers with an expression heavy with hard truths. “As much as I hate to acknowledge it, isolation is probably the safest option for all concerned.”
“We don’t want Orpheus to be alone,” Raven declares with fierce protectiveness, flaring her wings until the claws at the tips click together with metallic precision. “He stays with us always.”
She pulls her clutch brother against her side and holds him tight, her eyes flickering with an unexpected shade of bright blue that none of us expected to see. Most of the time, human-form eyes match the coloration of the shifted form, but this brighter hue suggests something entirely different developing within her. We thought her dragon’s eye color would eventually match her human hue.
“Settle down, my most precious one,” Thauglor says with hands raised in a placating gesture, his voice carrying the soothing authority that comes from dealing with powerful young dragons. “Orpheus will absolutely stay with you and Lily. When the three of you feel the need to isolate from the others, simply tell any adult, and we’ll make sure you have the space and privacy you need.”
“Okay, Daddy,” Raven agrees, but the sudden way she releases Orpheus—as if his touch had burned her—before launching herself into her father’s arms suggests there are still secrets she’s not ready to share.
