The next few days were a blur.

  Unlike the first time, I was mostly aware of what was happening around me and could even hear what was happening in my room. Cyldri never left my side, although many others came and went. Her voice became familiar in a way that didn’t feel intrusive, the kind of presence that wrapped around the edges of a storm instead of standing in its path. She never spoke directly to me, but I could hear the way she addressed others—the steady way she gave instructions, her gentle reprimands to servants who forgot how loud they were, and the way she carefully made sure no one who came to visit disturbed me for too long.

  I heard Caspian a couple of times but he never stayed long. On one of his visits, I heard Isadora with him, and I even heard as she sat on the bed next to me, talking with Cyldri about my chances. After learning about Thorne, Isadora’s treatment of me made more sense, and I understood now why her voice always held that edge. They didn’t stay for long, but Isadora hesitated slightly before leaving, whispering something too low for me to catch. It was mostly Cyldri and my mother after that.

  Listening to them, I learned Valaine had returned to Isadora’s palace, although I doubted that Valaine had much choice in the matter. With my mother wanting to be by my side and Caspian on the mend, Isadora had retaken to supervising her sister and I couldn’t quite tell where Tritetia was staying. I didn’t care either way, but I also didn’t like the possibility that she had gone back to Aehorus early due to Caspian’s scare and no one was telling me.

  My mother, however, stayed in my palace. I heard her voice more often than anyone else's besides Cyldri’s. She came almost everyday, and when she did, she talked with Cyldri like they’d known each other for years. They mostly talked about their husbands and about grief, things they missed, other concepts I could only barely relate to. I learned to tune them out, not wanting to hear my mother talk about my father, not when she sounded sad but not broken.

  It took about a week, but I finally awoke from the darkness and could feel my body again. I groaned softly, feeling the ache in my muscles from not moving as I shifted my arms beneath the blankets. The heat I remembered from Cyldri’s blood was gone, replaced with a quiet thrum that seemed to echo my heartbeat. It was a sensation altogether new, and I lifted my hand to press it to my chest.

  “Stay still.” Cyldri’s voice made me freeze, and I opened my eyes, seeing the dragon leaning over me as she watched me with her warm hazel eyes. I could tell she was looking me over again, her gaze not just scanning my face but studying it, like she was searching for cracks in porcelain that no one else could see. She wasn’t alarmed, but she wasn’t relaxed either; her posture was poised, braced, as though expecting something might go wrong even now. “It looks like it worked, but it’s hard to tell.”

  “How?”

  “Only about fifty percent of your blood has been replaced. At your age with your transformations, it should be closer to seventy,” Cyldri explained, sighing heavily as she motioned me to sit up. I moved slowly, my head still aching slightly from all the time laying down. “Only time will tell if you’ll be able to become a dragon.”

  I remained silent, fighting to hide my frown. Caspian and Cyldri’s insistence I couldn’t become a dragon still bothered me, but during my lucid state. I had plenty of time to consider the implications. I had only ever transformed once in my previous life before I died, so there was a chance that even if I couldn’t feel the pain, I was slowly dying. It would explain why I had reverted back to my human form after Caspian fatally wounded me, and hadn’t died in my dragon form like Kapral did. There was also Tritetia’s visions; she constantly told me that I became a dragon, but she had never said I survived becoming a dragon. There was a chance she had been too scared to tell me, and I knew I needed to drag the truth from her.

  “Look,” Cyldri’s voice made me look up, and the first thing I saw was my face reflected back at me. I looked pale, my skin was a shade lighter than usual, almost like the color had been slowly drained from beneath the surface while I slept. But it didn’t take me long to notice that one of my eyes had changed color and I reached up to push my hair out of the way, allowing me to see the change. My left eye was now red; not the muddied crimson of blood or rust, but something richer—deep ruby veined with molten amber, shifting like fire behind glass. I tilted my head, watching the way the light caught in the red—how it shimmered and pulsed, not like a glow, but something buried beneath.

  “What happened?” I glanced up to see Cyldri’s face and she shrugged before handing the mirror to me.

  “My best guess is by taking my blood, my magic has affected you in the same way Kapral’s did. After seeing you and talking with your mother, it seems you inherited very few physical features from your parents.” Cyldri explained and I nodded, thinking about the painting I had seen. “So, by magic and by blood, you are the son of Kapral and me.”

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  “How am I–”

  “You should be able to hide it. My magic includes illusions, so you should be capable of using a small illusion just over your eye,” Cyldri explained and I closed my eyes, trying to focus the same way I did when I wanted to use my gold eyes. I imagined seeing the eye as green again, and when I reopened my eyes, I found my old face staring back at me. “Good. I see Caspian has been teaching you well.”

  I didn’t respond, but I handed the mirror back to Cyldri as I looked at my lap, considering the implications of her words. Being my hair color, which matched my father's, my parents hadn’t truly given me anything. No blood, no magic, not even a face that anyone could trace back to them. And now, without even meaning to, I had become the child of two dragons—one dead, one watching me with warmth and unspoken expectations.

  “Now, before I give you some space, I need to make you promise me something. It’s a promise all Draconids must make once their dragon blood starts to awaken,” Cyldri’s expression turned serious and I nodded, curious to know what warranted such an attitude. “I need to tell you about death wishes.”

  “Death… wishes?” I repeated her words as she nodded, her hazel eyes turning the same strange shade of red my left eye had become and her presence seemed to swell, though not with threat. It was the kind of presence that came from a truth too old to be questioned. She sat down at the edge of the bed and folded her hands, her posture now mirroring the weight in her voice.

  “Long ago, before there were empires or nations, there were humans who had such a high affinity for spirits, they could touch them,” Cyldri began, her voice slow, almost ceremonial, like she was reciting from a history etched in bone rather than paper. “These were not like how humans are now. For them, spirits were just as real and corporal as you and I are and were just as easy to love or hate. Some of these humans and spirits decided to become one, to blur the line between magic and being.

  “That’s how dragons were created. Not by chance, like most magical beasts, but by choice. It’s why we’re not born as dragons, but as Draconids, humans waiting for the magic to awaken,” she paused, watching me to make sure I was following. I said nothing, just nodded once, and she continued. “Because dragons are born from spirit, when we die, we leave behind more than a body. We leave behind power, pure magic no longer tied to the inherent magic of our lives. A final pulse of magic that can be shaped into a single act—what we call a death wish.”

  “Do–”

  “No, Draconids do not get a death wish. Draconid magic is not strong enough, and therefore cannot fulfill whatever you would ask for.” Cyldri interrupted, her gaze growing wistful for a moment before she covered it up. “As far as we understand, there is no limit on what can be wished for, just as magic has no limit to its uses. But we do have our taboos about them.”

  Her words hung in the air like frost clinging to breath, and I felt something twist in my stomach—part dread, part recognition. It made sense; while technically anything could be done with magic, humans had rules and laws about magic use to prevent its misuse, so it made sense dragons would have similar limitations on something as powerful as a death with.

  “The first is to wish to become a mindless beast, to be pure power and no thought,” Cyldri said, and I could see her jaw tighten slightly as she spoke. “Like I said, at our core, we are still human, and taking life for no reason is not something we can abide by. The second… is to turn back time.”

  I froze. “Turn… back time?”

  “Yes. No one knows what could happen, as spirits exist outside of time as we understand it. It’s why dragons are immortal unless killed,” Cyldri finally looked at me again, and her gaze was almost mournful now. “Time is not a road we walk on. It’s a thread that’s woven through us and pulling on it… unweaves everything. It might unravel reality, or snap it somewhere far away, in a place you’d never see. Maybe it simply cuts and nothing would change at all. Or maybe it would all change so completely that you wouldn’t recognize the pieces when they fell back into place.”

  I stared at the floor. It felt like someone had taken the room and spun it sideways, tilting it just far enough that I couldn’t tell which way gravity was pulling. I had never understood why I suddenly woke up as my ten-year-old self again, why I had been given this second chance to save my mother. Without even knowing or understanding, I had managed to make a death wish.

  And I had destroyed time to do it.

  “So, now that you understand why they are not allowed, I need your word that you will not wish for such a thing,” Cyldri stood and I looked up toward her. Her expression was serious once more, and I could see her elegant golden horns as they curled around her head like a crown. “I am responsible for you by giving you my blood, so it is my duty to teach you as much as it is Caspian’s.”

  “I… promise,” I said quietly nodding as Cyldri smiled, slipping back into her human form. She patted my head gently, completely unaware of the thoughts swirling and tumbling in my head.

  “I’m sure you would like to move around a bit and change, so I will let you have some peace tonight. Caspian and I will return tomorrow,” with that, she slipped toward the door, her bare feet making no sound against the cool stone floor. I could hear the door click softly behind her, sealing me in the room alone for the first time in what felt like a lifetime and as soon as it did, I jumped from my bed, I ran to my desk and pulled out the crystal from the drawer I had hidden it in, my eyes glued to its smooth surface until it began to glow.

  “Cyran? Are you–”

  “Meet me in the guest room next to yours. Now.” I dropped the crystal as soon as I finished speaking, moving to the closet to change out of my sweat-soaked clothing. Every revelation only gave me more question, but for now, I would confront Tritetia, and drag out the truth of my future.

  No matter what.