“I’ll take the little ones back to their rooms,” Thauglor offers, gathering up the last three hatchlings with practiced efficiency. The other adults follow his lead, filing out of the room to give Mina and me the privacy we clearly need for processing everything we’ve just witnessed.
Once we’re alone, Mina tilts her head with that considering expression that means her brilliant mind is working through complex puzzle pieces.
“There’s definitely more to this situation than what the children are revealing,” she observes, her voice carrying the weight of maternal intuition that rarely proves wrong.
“My bet is on Raven hiding something significant, and possibly Orpheus as well,” I agree, studying Mina’s profile as she processes the evening’s revelations.
“Thorne shouldn’t exist with the abilities she displays,” Mina muses thoughtfully, turning to gaze out the window at the moonlit landscape beyond. “Maybe my entire clutch from that time period received extra gifts that we’re only beginning to understand.”
“If Allister had gotten something extraordinary, we both know he’d be bragging about it constantly,” I point out, and she nods with the sad understanding of someone who knows her children’s personalities intimately.
“That’s absolutely true,” she acknowledges. “My intuition is telling me that the line of succession may need to be reconsidered based on his temperament.”
“Is that your maternal gut instinct talking, or are you having actual visions?” I ask as I take Mina into my arms and hold her close, offering whatever comfort and support she needs to process these complex family dynamics.
“Both,” she sighs, melting into my embrace with the trust that comes from years of partnership. “The future is shifting in ways I didn’t expect when we started this family.”
We stand together in comfortable silence for several minutes, drawing strength from each other while contemplating the challenges and changes that tomorrow will undoubtedly bring to our ever-evolving mixed-species family.
Tomorrow is indeed another day, full of mysteries to unravel and children to protect as they grow into powers none of us fully understand yet.
Chapter
Five
T- 5 days
I have been moving back and forth between the main nest and the private birthing chamber like a man possessed, appearing and disappearing at moments when the others least expect it. Every detail must be absolutely perfect for Operation Last Clutch—Mina’s romantic ambush depends on flawless execution, and I refuse to let my beloved mate down.
The birthing chamber itself is a sanctuary of comfort and security, with soft lighting that can be adjusted for any mood, walls lined with the finest fabrics money can buy, and every amenity an expecting dragon could desire. I’ve been checking and double-checking the temperature controls, the soundproofing enchantments, and the privacy wards that will ensure complete intimacy for Mina’s romantic encounters.
Just as I’m about to phase out of the chamber after my latest inspection, powerful arms suddenly grab me from behind and drag me deeper into the shadows. The grip is firm but familiar, carrying the casual strength that speaks to years of friendship and mutual trust.
“You’re up to something,” comes the telltale agitated hiss of Balor’s partially shifted voice. The sibilant sounds enunciate every ‘s’ in that exaggerated manner that means his basilisk nature is riding close to the surface. His sunglasses catch the dim light as he studies me with the intensity of someone who knows me far too well.
“I’m sworn to secrecy,” I whisper back, though we both know perfectly well that I could vanish from his arms in the space of a heartbeat if I truly wanted to escape. The thing is, given our decades of friendship and the trust we’ve built together, I simply can’t bring myself to phase away from him. Some bonds are too strong to break, even when keeping secrets.
“What exactly are you preparing for?” Balor asks as he releases me, allowing me to turn and face him properly. His expression behind those protective lenses is serious, but I can see the concern there—the worry that comes from caring about someone’s well-being.
I glance around quickly, my senses automatically checking for any signs of eavesdroppers or unwanted observers. Satisfied that we’re alone, I grab Balor’s arm and phase us both instantly across space to the secluded beach that sits across from the ancient temple of Bahamut.
The transition from indoor chamber to outdoor coastline is seamless, reality bending around us as we materialize on warm sand with the endless ocean stretching before us and the sacred temple’s spires visible in the distance. The salty breeze carries the familiar scents of the sea and possibility.
“Mina is planning her next clutch,” I explain, looking around carefully to ensure we’re far enough out in the open that no one can sneak up on our conversation undetected. The beachstretches empty in both directions, with only the sound of waves and calling seabirds to keep us company.
“That explains quite a lot,” Balor nods, understanding that comes from years of observing Mina’s patterns and behavior. “Do you need assistance with anything specific?” His dark eyebrow arches above the rim of his protective sunglasses, and I can practically see his brilliant mind already formulating plans and strategies.
I reach into the inner pocket of my jacket and extract my well-worn notebook; the pages are filled with weeks of careful observations and meticulous scheduling details. “Yes, actually. When Mina gives me the signal to begin, I need to collect the mates in question.” I stare down at the notes covering the first page, then look up to meet Balor’s gaze directly. “Any help you could provide in distracting the dragons in our group would be tremendously appreciated.”
“Consider it done,” he responds without hesitation, clapping me on the shoulder with the firm gesture that seals unspoken agreements between old friends. “I absolutely hate watching the others mope around, staring at our existing children while waiting desperately for their turn at fatherhood.”
He turns to look out over the rolling waves, his expression thoughtful as he considers the logistics of our conspiracy. “When do we officially start this operation?”
“October twentieth, in theory,” I reply, though we both understand that Mina going into her fertile season isn’t an exact science. Dragon biology operates on its own mysterious timeline, influenced by everything from lunar cycles to emotional states to atmospheric pressure.
Balor pulls out his phone with efficient movements and makes a careful notation on his digital calendar. “Just let me know the moment it’s a confirmed go, and we’ll get this romantic ambush executed flawlessly.”
“I think Raven suspects something is developing,” I mention, glancing around once more. There’s an odd prickle along my spine that suggests unseen eyes might be watching our supposedly private conversation.
