Their developing minds did not possess the strength to fathom how many years that was. But Auric’s face lit up at the mention of Elowen, for he was always closer to her in his constitution. Softer, quieter, gentler.
Midas lowered his head to nuzzle each boy individually, wrapping his tail more tightly around them both.
“She may not have dragon blood in her veins, but she is still dragon. She is…the very foundation of this family. From her heart and body came a new era of dragons.You. Us. I would endure it all again if I knew she was waiting for me at the end.”
The scentof warm stone and damp moss drifted over Elowen before the first flicker of light broke through her sleep. She stirred slowly, blinking past the haze of dreams into the golden hue of morning. The fire had long since died down, leaving only the faintest ember glow pulsing like a heartbeat in the ash.
But it wasn’t the fire that woke her. It was the sound. Low. Rumbling. Almost like thunder, but gentler.
She lifted her head from the nest and found herself staring into a vision she might once have believed belonged only in the stories of old if not for the way her heart lifted at the sight.
Midas lay curled along the stone floor in a crescent,wings tucked in tight, tail coiled protectively around the two small figures nestled between his limbs.
Auric was perched like a king between his father’s horns, legs dangling lazily on either side of the great crown of bone. Kalen lounged along the bridge of Midas’ massive snout, his chin propped on his folded arms, dark hair ruffled and eyes alight.
Midas was speaking, and they were listening.
Whatever he said, it was not in words Elowen knew. Not in any human tongue. But in the rich, resonant language of dragons—deep and musical, like mountains shifting beneath the sea. The sounds rolled through the cave like velvet thunder, low and lulling, and the boys responded with small delighted noises, coos and soft giggles that melted against the stone. Elowen didn’t understand a single word. But it didn’t matter.
She watched from the shadows, heart full to bursting, as Midas wove some ancient tale only his kind could tell. He spoke slowly, his tone wrapping around each word like a secret. And her sons listened like they were being handed the stars.
With a quiet exhale, she pushed herself upright and padded softly to the edge of the hearth. She didn’t wish to interrupt. She simply began preparing breakfast with quiet hands, grinding dried grains and crushed root into a thick porridge in the small stone bowl they kept tucked away.
The occasional giggle from Kalen broke through the steady rhythm of her stirring. Auric leaned forward, whispering something to his brother, and Midas snorted softly in amusement, the puff of smoke escaping his nostrils rising in a playful spiral.
Elowen wiped the corners of her eyes with the back of her wrist before the tears could fall into the food.
It was in these tender moments that filled her heart with so much joy, to see a family she never thought she would have living as though the cruelty of the world didn’t exist.
And so she let them have it a little longer.
Forty-Three
Elowen awoke curled in Midas’arms, the familiar warmth of him pressed to her back. But her body was wrong—tight with discomfort, her stomach cramping in slow, sickening waves. She gasped, barely audible, but Midas stirred instantly.
“Elowen,” he whispered, sitting up.
She clutched at her abdomen. “Something’s wrong.”
The scent hit him then. Blood.
Midas didn’t ask questions. He gathered her into his arms, laid her carefully on a pile of furs separate from the boys, and lit the fire brighter with a sharp breath of heat.
She bled for hours, quietly wincing so she didn’t disturb her sons despite her heart screaming in agony. She knew what was happening—they both did. But to speak it into existence made it real, and neither of them were ready to face it yet.
Midas held her hand when her body shook with pain. He whispered to her when the worst of itpassed, his forehead pressed to hers, his voice a soft stream of love and apology. She cried without sound. He cleaned the blood from her carefully.
The next morning, the boys bounded toward them at the mouth of the cave, laughing, arms full of wildflowers and bits of bark they’d carved into toy animals.
“Look what we made for the baby!” Kalen shouted.
Elowen sat by the fire, wrapped in a thick blanket. Her face was pale. Midas stood nearby, unmoving. The boys approached eagerly. She covered her mouth with one hand. The other trembled in her lap. The boys stopped.
Auric looked up at Midas. “Papa?”
Midas knelt, slowly, lowering himself to their eye level. His expression was soft, but hollowed.
“I need you to listen,” he said. They quieted instantly. “There is no easy way to say this.” He paused, glanced at Elowen, then back to them. “The life your mother carried…it is gone.”
