She closed the door behind herself quietly, her eyes glancing at me before resting on Caspian. The smile on her face grew and she shook her head, walking straight toward the crown prince.

  “You took a risk Caspian, especially if your theory is right.”

  “Yssac’s antidotes has neutralized the sandwalker blood, my body has already healed,” Caspian responded, but I still noticed the way he shrugged dismissively. It was surprisingly… childish. “I’m just tired.”

  “Then you should be sleeping,” the dragon stopped once she was standing next to Caspian, gently stroking his hair as her fingers brushed it back from his face. Her touch was light, reverent in a way I hadn’t expected from someone like her. The warmth that radiated from her made the air feel heavier, like she wasn’t just standing in my room—she was filling it, down to the corners of the floor and the cracks in the walls.

  Caspian didn’t lean into the gesture, but he didn’t pull away either. He just closed his eyes for a breath, and for that moment, I could almost believe he was someone’s son and not just a blade honed to perfection. She ran her hand once more over his hair before finally looking down at me again.

  “Am I to assume this is the boy you spoke of? The one you and Isa adopted?” she tilted her head, studying me and I struggled to meet her gaze. “What’s your name, little one?”

  “Cyran,” I answered quickly, a bit sharper than I intended, but her presence was so overwhelming that anything softer might’ve gotten swallowed up by it. She just nodded, her gaze pinning me in place like she’d already heard my name before and was matching it to a story I didn’t know. Caspian sat up, gaining his mother’s attention as he moved.

  “Illythia made an awful impression when she was here, so can you confirm what he is?” Caspian leaned forward, his hands resting lightly on his knees as he glanced between me and the towering woman beside him. “I want to be sure.”

  “I’m not surprised,” She laughed softly, her fingers still lingering in Caspian’s hair for a breath longer before she turned to face me fully. Her gaze was quiet now, no longer glowing with the soft amusement she had for her son, but calm, contemplative. She stepped closer, slow and unhurried, until she stood right next to my bed. “My name is Cyldri, Cyran and I need you to look at me for a moment.”

  I raised my head slowly, still feeling the phantom ache humming beneath my skin like a struck chord. Her voice was too soft to ignore, too warm to defy, and when I looked up into her eyes, something in my chest twisted tight. They weren’t the cold, judging eyes I remembered from Illythia; Cyldri’s gaze was heavier, but not cruel. Her hazel eyes searched mine, but she only watched for a few seconds before she shook her head.

  “I can see the magic, but like you said, he has no dragon blood to awaken.” Her tone was gentle, but there was an unmistakable ache of sorrow in her tone. “It’s allowing him to live, but it’s trying to sync with blood that doesn’t exist.”

  Caspian let out a low sound, leaning back in his chair as he adjusted his wings, and I watched him closely, wondering if that sound was relief or confirmation of something he’d feared. He didn’t look at me right away, just rubbed his temple, the tips of his hands ghosting over his brow like he was holding back a headache. “And?”

  “It’s strange,” she whispered, turning her gaze back to Caspian as if looking at me was difficult. “Your tale about his parents was already hard to believe, and even seeing it with my own eyes doesn’t help it make sense. There has never been a Draconid created purely through magic before.”

  Her words almost echoed Illythia’s and I couldn’t help my frown. I didn’t care if they couldn’t understand why I was; what frustrated me was how certain they all were that I wasn’t a true Draconid. I didn’t know why getting my claws had hurt so much, but I knew I could take a full dragon form, no matter what they said.

  “You were right to bring me here,” Cyldri said suddenly, her voice causing me to look up again. “But it does make things more complicated.”

  “More complicated, how?” I asked, before I could stop myself. Caspian sat up again, and I turned my gaze to him, seeing the familiar calm stoic expression in his eyes he usually showed the world.

  “First, I need to explain a bit more to you about what we are. At the moment, there are four known Draconids and four living dragons,” Caspian started and I felt my heart nearly stop. Four? Four Draconids and four dragons, and none of them had noticed me in my previous life? “Other than me, there is another failed dragon, but I’ve never met him. He’s from a pair who died a long time ago and is older than anyone living right now.”

  This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

  “The last two Draconids are merely infants, born to the mated pair of dragons Unayss and Ationth,” Cyldri continued, her voice still soft but unwavering, like she was laying out pieces to a game I didn’t know I was part of. “You met Illythia when the Emperor and Empress reached out to her, and I am the fourth.”

  “You are the fifth Draconid, but you were not born of a dragon like the rest of us,” Caspian said, his voice steady, though his eyes were on me again. “Kapral’s magic was passed to you through your mother, but not his blood. Your magic will continue to look for blood that doesn’t exist and eventually, it will literally melt you from the inside.”

  I stared at him, trying to breathe, but the room felt too still. The words didn’t sting but they caught somewhere deep, like splinters under the skin. He couldn’t be right; the shift had been easy in first life, every milestone just as smooth, natural and unexpected as my eyes and horns had been. I had never felt this pain, had never felt like my blood was on fire. I had been a dragon.

  “I–” I opened my mouth to argue, but before I could my throat felt tight, like a hand had wrapped around it from the inside. I gasped trying to breathe, struggling to argue against what they were saying. “But–”

  “Calm down, Cyran,” Clydri’s hand came down on my shoulder, gentle and grounding like a weight pressed just firmly enough to hold me in place. “You’re alright. It’s not something that is going to happen immediately.”

  But I wasn’t alright. My throat stayed shut, the words stuck and burning behind my teeth like acid I couldn’t spit out. Caspian was watching me, sharp-eyed and quiet, his face unreadable as always and I wanted to motion to my journal, to where I had written down everything I remembered about my previous life. But as soon as I lifted them to point it out, my arms felt like lead, as if they were no longer mine to control. I wanted to scream in frustration, but I instead glared into my lap.

  “So?” I finally rasped, my throat sore from trying to speak. I didn’t know why I couldn’t talk about my previous life, but it hardly mattered right now. Whether I wanted it to be true or not, my claws had caused me pain in this life and if Caspian and his mother were right, it would only get worse. “I’m supposed to just die?”

  “No.” Cyldri’s response came swiftly, not a breath behind mine. She reached into her robe and pulled something from within, a small shimmering vial. It was something far richer, deeper, glowing from within like molten rubies. It caught the light of the window and refracted it in strange ways, too complex for a simple liquid. It wasn’t a color that belonged to humans. “This is my blood.”

  “I asked my mother if she would be willing to share her blood with you,” my attention was pulled back to Caspian as he spoke, a serious and calm expression on his face as he accepted the vial from his mother. “It’s… possible that Kapral’s blood could work as well, but blood from a living dragon will work better.”

  “Better for what?”

  “Giving your magic something to call too.” Cyldri answered, crossing her arms as she sighed heavily. “Normally, your dragon blood would have replaced most of your human blood by now, pushing you closer to becoming a full dragon. By having you take mine, it would give your magic something to latch to, and start the process of replacing your human blood.”

  But then how did I transform before? I didn’t try to speak aloud again, but the question burned in my mind as I stared at the vial in Caspian’s hand. None of this made sense, but I had no way to argue it. The red light it cast was subtle, but unnatural in a way that made the corners of the room feel darker by comparison. I could feel it from where I lay, the warmth of it pulling at something inside me, something beneath the aching weight of my ribs.

  “You don’t have to take it,” Cyldri said gently, watching me with that same unreadable softness in her gaze. She was not urging, not pleading, not demanding. She was simply offering. “This isn’t a decision to make lightly. This had never been done before, but if Caspian is right, it should work to save your life. But it will not be simple, and it will not be painless. You will likely go into another coma.”

  “And if it doesn't work?” I asked quietly, refusing to meet either of their gazes,

  “Then your magic will continue to try and force the change, eventually killing you,” Caspian said matter-of-factly, and I growled, taking the vial from his hand. Either they were right and it could save my life, or they were wrong and it would do nothing. My life had little meaning to me, but my mother still worried about me too much. I could not risk upsetting her with my death.

  “My mother will watch over you,” Caspian finally stood, his draconic features melting away as his mother took his seat instead. She smiled at me gently, her expression too similar to the one my mother had worn the past few days. An expression that was a mix of hope and worry.

  “Whenever you’re ready, Cyran,” She offered quietly and I quickly opened the vial, drinking the shimmering blood quickly. It slid down my throat like melted gold, thick and smooth, clinging to my mouth and throat in a way that didn’t feel like anything I’d ever consumed. It wasn’t warm, not exactly, but it shimmered with heat the moment it touched my stomach.

  As soon as I finished, I handed the vial to Cyldri and laid down, closing my eyes. The heat remained in my stomach, and I wasn’t sure if I was bracing for pain or something else. I heard Caspian’s voice as he said something to his mother, but his words blurred as if I was underwater. I surrendered myself to the feeling, not fighting the sensation as I fell back into darkness.