#dragonity

Sometimes, in the summer, their mother would take them up to the lake at the far end of the mountains. It was on the far edge of her hunting territory, amongst the mountain range that skirted the edge of the forest valley that they lived in. They would stay there for a night or two and then return to the pond that Ayvaire and her brood called home.

Andromeda always looked forward to those visits. She wasn’t yet old enough to fly, but being so high in the mountains made her feel strong and free. Sometimes, she and her nestmates would climb along the ledges beyond the lake, if they had a chance to sneak away from their mother’s watchful gaze. They would approach the edge with a mixture of nervousness and bold excitement. Sometimes, they would compete to see who could get the closest to the edge without backing down from fear. Their mother always found them quite quickly, having gotten used to the more adventurous of her offspring’s tendencies for mischief, but still Andromeda liked to try. She would stand over the edge, spread her small wings as far as they could go, and puff out her chest as she looked over the valley they called home. In those moments, she felt more powerful and free than ever. For just a moment, the small purple dragonet felt like the queen of all the land and sky.

The water of the lake was crisp and cool under the often humid heat of summer. It had a chill that their pond didn’t have, but it was far deeper, and full of fish for the dragonets to catch. Their mother would sit in the shallows, soaking in the water beneath the warm summer sun while her dragonets played around her. To Andromeda, who often found the forest too stuffy and humid during the hot months of the summer, the dry air and beautiful landscapes of the mountains were paradise. She didn’t understand why they couldn’t live up here all year round.

There was a lot she didn’t understand about her mother. Not that she loved her any less. The pond dragoness towered over them, with even the largest of her dragonets barely even reaching her knees when standing on their hind legs. Her smooth, teal scales shone when the sun caught her body, making her look like a living statue of turquoise. Her horns likewise looked to be made of pure gold, curving wide down and towards the front of her snout like razor sharp prongs, and another pair curved upwards to meet the sky. She was a fierce, deadly predator, the bane of any large mammals that crossed her path – but her eyes had a gentle, loving tenderness that only a mother could possess. To Andromeda, she was quite literally larger than life.

One of her earliest memories was of dragging herself out of the goopy pile of eggshell that had once been her home. The warm goo clung to her newly formed scales, but she had barely even registered it as the world around her came into to focus. It was so big, so bright, and looming above all of it was Ayvaire. She was so big that the hatchling had mistaken the sky itself as being an extension of her scales. She wondered if she should be afraid – but somehow knew deep inside that this dragon was her protector, her lifegiver, her mother. The massive dragon leaned down to the hatchling, her eyes beaming with love and pride, and she began to wash away the egg goop from her body with warm, tender licks. In the back of her throat, she began to hum a melody. It had no words, but Andromeda could see images in her mind’s eye – of dragons soaring through the sky, conquering the land, air and water, going on adventures, finding beautiful treasures, hunting game, falling in love, living. With it came the promise of love, of laughter, of a warm, caring mother to raise her and prepare her for the world she had now entered.

Most of all, though… It was a song she remembered from her time inside the egg.

Her mother became synonymous with food, safety and love. Even now, Andromeda could still remember the taste of the milk that came from her udders – that sweetness that kept her nurtured while she was still too young to get the metals she needed in her diet herself. Even now, thinking about the soft warmth of her mother’s belly as she slept alongside her filled her with a warm, comfortable sensation.

But sometimes… there were things she didn’t understand. She didn’t understand why Mother would never talk about her own years as a dragonet. She didn’t understand why she didn’t like them exploring the Treedens. She didn’t understand the sadness that sometimes crept into her songs. Her mother had nightmares sometimes – she had been woken by her midnight stirrings before. She would never talk about it, but Andromeda was certain. Andromeda had dreams too. Strange dreams that she didn’t understand. They only came once in a blue moon, but they were always the same strange, unfamiliar and incomprehensible images that left her deeply uneasy. In the light of the morning and the comforting warmth of her mother and her siblings pressing against her, it was easy to shake off her discomfort, but it felt like for a brief time while she slept, her identity had slipped away, and her dreams had become someone else’s entirely.

But she loved her mother. She loved her siblings. She loved their life.

It was a particularly sunny day, but the temperature hadn’t yet risen to uncomfortable levels – one benefit of the mountains over the valley, Andromeda reckoned. Ayvaire was sitting in the shallows, letting the water lap over her legs and stomach, watching over her children contentedly. Zvyana was nestled in the crook of her neck, the dark purple dragonet’s chest rising and falling softly as she napped. Behind her, on the lake shore, a red shape sprawled out on a smooth, sunny rock indicated Velcarx had found his own ideal napping spot. Ayvaire had her eyes on Zana and another dragonet of similar color as the two wrestled in the shallows. Zana had pinned the other dragonet down, fixing her teeth around her sibling’s neck, but her opponent was not ready to give up. With a sharp hiss, they raked their claws across Zana’s belly. As dragonets, their claws and jaws were not yet strong enough to pierce each other’s scaly hides, but their strength was not to be underestimated. They very nearly threw off their opponent on their first try.

The two dragonets were aggressive, but Ayvaire knew that they were still only playing, and neither of them were really in any danger. Still, it was worth watching, in case she had to intervene.

Andromeda was lurking in deeper waters alongside Starcaller. The indigo dragonet was staring intently into the waters, while Andromeda hovered a few hatchling-lengths away, treading water like their mother had taught them. She watched her sister intently, waiting for her to make her move. Suddenly, the dragonet ducked under the water. Ripples cascaded across the surface of the lake in her wake, but the dragonet was nowhere to be seen.

The purple hatchling watched in anticipation, squinting her eyes to see if she could catch a glimpse of Starcaller through the water’s murky depths. She thought she could see movement, but it was difficult to tell

A few moments passed, and then a few more. Andromeda was beginning to worry, when the water exploded a few paces away, and the indigo glint of Starcaller’s head arced through the air, her eyes beaming proudly as she clutched a wiggling fish about the length of her snout in her jaws. As her body bobbed in the water, she used a talon to quickly snap the fish’s neck, and let it hang limply in her jaws.

She looked to Andromeda, and the two dragonets locked eyes for a moment. Unlike the rest of their nest mates, Starcaller had four eyes instead of two. They glinted red, and the challenge in them was clear.

Andromeda looked out across the lake and paddled her way out a bit further, seeking deeper water than Starcaller. She spread out her tiny wings around and above her, casting a shadow over her head so that she could better see into the water. The depths were murky, but she could see shapes flitting to and fro amongst the sandy bottom. Mostly smaller fish. But if she was patient…

She waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Impatience was creeping over her, but she remembered her mother’s lessons, and took a deep breath through her nostrils, calming her nerves and doing her best to chase away thoughts of frustration.

A dark shape, much larger this time. Without hesitating, she ducked under the water and, with a strong flap of her wings, propelled herself through the water. The shape of her body allowed her to slide quickly through the lake, and her frills helped to keep her angle true.

The fish immediately darted away, but Andromeda had quickly amassed enough speed to quick pace. Her claws shot out and slapped together, but only managed to grab the fish’s slippery tail. It slipped out of her grip before she could hook her talons into its fins. She pumped her wings twice, propelling herself forward, and gained on the fish, parting her jaws and snapping out. Her teeth sunk through slimy scales and caught tight.

Before she let herself feel any triumph, she angled herself back towards the surface of the water. Her snout arced forwards and the nictitating membranes that covered her eyes receded, and she found herself looking out along the lake. The fish was still wriggling in her jaws, and before it could slip out, she mimicked Starcaller’s actions before her and snapped its neck, killing it instantly.

With her fresh kill in her jaws, she turned herself around to face Starcaller, it was difficult to tell with the fish still in her jaws, but the way it weighed down to her sides, it had to be bigger than Starcaller’s. It was easily the biggest fish she had caught that summer, possibly ever. The two locked eyes again, the fires of challenge still within them. They had both done their best; it was time to see who had won.

They turned back to the shore and began to paddle back, keeping their heads above water to make sure they could breathe. By now, the dragonet fight had ended, and the two were headed towards the sunny rock where Velcarx slept. Ayvaire had turned her attention to the two fishing dragonets, and watched with pride as they came over with their catch.

As soon as she was able to touch the bottom, Andromeda dug her hindpaws into the sand and bounded towards her mother. She rubbed her flank against the teal leg in affection, purring between the fish in her mouth. A rough tongue lapped softly against her scalp, and Ayvaire hummed softly above her. After giving Starcaller some of the same love, she lifted her head, careful not to jostle Zvyana too much, and spoke. Her voice was as deep and rumbly as any adult dragon, but it was also soothing in a way that never failed to set Andromeda at ease.

“Look at you two,” she said as the dragonets’ chests swelled with pride. “Those are some of the biggest fish I’ve seen you catch!”

Andromeda found herself purring, and Starcaller seemed to have inflated twice her previous size from the praise.

“Go on and eat your catches,” Ayvaire encouraged.

The two bounded to shore and headed over to the rock. They stopped just short of it, and plopped down their fish next to each other.

To Andromeda’s horror, Starcaller’s was bigger.

Starcaller let out a triumphant roar – decidedly weaker and higher-pitched than their mother’s, but a roar nonetheless. Andromeda furrowed her brow and turned away from her, huffing in frustration.

“No fair,” she muttered under her breath.

“Is too fair,” Starcaller retorted. Andromeda wasn’t looking, but she had the feeling her sister was sticking her tongue out.

“Star’s is bigger,” Velcarx agreed. Some of the others were now watching.

“Are you still going to eat that…?” Zana asked, inching closer to Andromeda’s fish. She whirled around and grabbed it out of her blue sister’s sight, stepping away a few paces before settling down to eat her catch. As she sunk her sharp fangs into her prey, Starcaller sat down next to her, brushing her side with a wingtip sympathetically. They both began to eat.

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Some time later, Andromeda joined the group on the rock. The others left to play in the water, and only she and Zana remained. Vyzan approached the rock. The blue hatchling had previously been resting in the shade near the trees, but Andromeda realized she hadn’t actually seen her in a bit.

“When mother goes hunting, let’s sneak into the woods,” she whispered to Zana and Andromeda.

Both of them looked over to her. Andromeda blinked, and tilted her head to the side.

“I think there’s a Treeden,” Vyzan explained.

“Here?” Andromeda asked. “Wouldn’t Mother have found it?”

“It might be well hidden. But I found one of the Stonepaths buried under some roots.”

“What were you doing in the forest?” Zana asked.

Vyzan flashed a mischievous toothy grin, and offered no response.

“Well, I’ll go,” Zana added. She stood up and stretched out her forelegs, arcing her spine-covered back and stretching out her sapphire wings. Her and Vyzan both had similar appearances. Both had blue scales, white horns and long, slender bodies, with spines running down their spines. Their main distinguishing features were Vyzan’s darker blue underbelly and the dark, horizontal stripes that ran alongside Zana’s spines.

“Not yet,” Vyzan repeated. “When Mother leaves.”

“Right,” Zana said. She jumped off of the rock anyway, landing in the soft green grass next to the other blue dragonet.

Both of them turned to look at Andromeda expectantly.

Andromeda was of two minds. On the one talon, the rock was cozy, the sun was warm on her scales, and she was still holding on to her mother’s earlier praise, and didn’t feel like getting on her bad side so soon. On the other… She was always up for an adventure.

The two sides warred in her head until she eventually was able to pick a side.

“Alright,” she said. “I’ll come. But I’m not leaving this rock until then.”

~ ~ ~

The sun reached it peak and then began to set. Ayvaire would have to go hunting soon; she liked to have food ready for her dragonets well before sundown. When she was ready to go, she called all of her young out of the water, did a quick headcount, and gave them strict directions to stay near the rock. Naturally, as soon as she was out of sight, Vyzan gathered her sisters and the three of them snuck away from the rest of the group. Once they were a safe distance away, they started to let their guard down, not caring how much noise they created as they made their way through the trees.

Andromeda had imagined they would be walking for quite some time before they reached the Stonepath, but it wasn’t long before Vyzan stopped, her nose buried in some dead leaves.

“Here,” she said, swiping a talon across the ground. A bundle of dead leaves, sticks and vines was swept aside, and beneath it they could see the telltale signs of a Stonepath. The rock was dark and rough, but flat in a way that no other rocks ever were. To think that a Stonepath had been this close and they hadn’t found it until now… Andromeda knew that she had been through this part of the forest with her mother before. While the trees had seemed as randomly placed as always before, now that she knew the truth, she could see that there was a wide gap that weaved its way through them as the Stonepath made its way through the forest. Grass, vines and small weeds could grow over Stonepaths, but it was rare that they ever found trees.

“Which way?” Zana asked, stepping onto the path. Vyzan pointed to the left, and Zana took the lead. Her sisters followed behind her.

Zana had always been one of the more adventurous dragonets of the bunch. While many of them could be a handful for Ayvaire in a number of ways, Zana was typically the one who would sneak off at a moment’s notice, climbing a ledge that was entirely too tall for her, or exploring a river or ravine that their Mother warned her away from. Even when she wasn’t the one instigating these illicit adventures, she was always one of the first to agree. It was part of the reason Ayvaire learned to watch her so much, and why they had to wait until she was hunting in order to bring Zana for anything.

Truth be told, while Andromeda liked tagging along, there was something about the Stonepaths and Treedens that was offputting to her. She couldn’t put her talon on why, but she always felt as if, had they the chance, they would tell her things. They were mysterious places, for sure, and she got the sense that the mysteries they held perhaps would be better left unsolved.

Zana, on the other hand, held no such qualms about exploring the places. She would be all over them the moment they got near. So it made sense that she was taking the lead while Andromeda followed.

The Stonepaths seemed to be getting more and coated with the nature surrounding them the more years passed, but once you found one, you could follow it for what felt like forever until either it brought you to a Treeden or until their mother figured where they had snuck off to and showed up to bring them home. Andromeda often wondered what the Stonepaths actually were. Zvyana had suggested on a couple of occasions that they were built long ago by the dragons who lived in this valley before Ayvaire. Andromeda wasn’t sure what they could possibly have needed it for.

This Stonepath was particularly long. Most of it was completely covered in undergrowth, yet once one was accustomed to walking along it, it became fairly obvious where it was leading. The path between the trees was fairly uniform, and there was a firmness to the ground beneath her paws that didn’t exist elsewhere, where the forest floor was comprised mostly of soft soil.

The path took them around the lake; they had mostly lost sight of it, but Andromeda was able to ground her sense of direction by keeping notice of its watery, fishy scent. They must have been about a quarter of the way around the lake when they finally reached the Treeden.

Right away, Andromeda thought she knew how it had gone unnoticed by any of them. It was almost entirely covered by dead leaves, fallen branches and wayward weeds and vines – and it was under a particularly thick covering of tree canopy nonetheless. It would have been almost impossible to spot flying overhead, and even on the ground Andromeda didn’t recognize it for what it was until she got close. Studying it from a short distance, however, she could see its structure. The small, vertical and horizontal criss-crossing logs that made up its exterior were unmistakable once noticed. They looked like small trees that had been stripped of their bark; a fact that had proven the inspiration for the name, when Starcaller first pointed it out to them.

This one was different from the talonful that they had found in their valley. Most of those were wide open, with the tallest logs reaching only a little above Andromeda’s head. Most of whatever had been inside had long since been destroyed; shattered and smashed by whatever it was that had destroyed the walls. This one, though, was far more intact. It had a roof. It was fully concealed, except for a single opening just barely wide enough for the dragonets to squeeze through. A strange flap made out of wood seemed to hang from its side – a covering, maybe?

There was something about it that gave Andromeda pause. They had assumed that the Treedens had been built by dragons sometime in the distant past. They had been small, yes, but perhaps they had been built for dragonets like them. Andromeda knew, in a detached, logical sense, that her mother must not have lived in the valley forever, despite how much it sometimes felt otherwise. Ayvaire told them stories through songs; of dragons traveling the world, finding love, finding treasure and glory, and then finding a territory and settling down. She presumed that Ayvaire had come from somewhere, and that perhaps there had been someone else before her.

This, however, didn’t look like anything a dragon would ever use. The entrance was far too tight, and there was no way to easily see the sky, let alone take off and fly. The den Ayvaire had created for them to live in was carved out of the mountains themselves, full of soft, circular passages and large, cavernous areas with plenty of room for the dragonets to move, stretch and play. This looked tight and confining, with strange, angular corners that looked horridly uncomfortable.

That begged the question… if dragons didn’t build this, who did?

Something was tugging at the back of Andromeda’s skull. She didn’t know what it was, but there was an odd sense of familiarity about this place. She had never been here before, but it felt as if she should know what it was. As if she should know the answers to all of her questions already, and if she could just remember, than all of the mysteries of this place would be solved.

She had felt this way about all of the Treedens, but it had been faint. Here, though, it was strong. The tugging was almost a yank, as if spending too much time here would send her mind into a tailspin. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know the answers to all of these questions. She sensed pain there, a darkness that might better be left uncovered.

She wanted nothing more than to go back to the lake and be with her nestmates, far away from whatever this was. She turned to look at her sisters.

“Whoa,” Zana breathed, staring at the Treeden, her jaw parted slightly in awe.

“I… wasn’t expecting this,” Vyzan replied. She shifted her feet nervously. For a moment, Andromeda thought she too would want to return. But then Zana took an eager step forward, and then bounded over to the opening. It was above ground level, with an incline of perfectly cut wooden footholds too small for draconic use. She clumsily walked up, and stopped right before the threshold, looking into the darkness inside. Zana had always been the most fearless of the brood. Andromeda couldn’t understand how she did it.

Not to be outdone, Vyzan quashed her nerves and trotted up behind her. When she reached Zana, both of them looked back at Andromeda expectantly.

“Well?” Vyzan asked, her tail twitching.

“I… I don’t know about this,” Andromeda replied, taking a step back, her tail between her legs and wings wilting against her back. “This place feels… off.”

“What, are you scared?” Vyzan asked, her own nervousness either forgotten already or pushed back. “You can go back on your own, but me and Zana are gonna explore this place. We aren’t scared.”

Zana nodded in agreement.

Embarassment washed over Andromeda in spite of herself. She wanted to turn back, but she knew they would tease her about it if she did.

“No!” she protested. “I’m just thinking… what if we get hurt in there? It seems a lot more dangerous than the others…” Her claws kneaded the dirt anxiously, and her tail refused to come out from between her legs. She knew she wasn’t making a good case for herself.

“We’re dragons,” Zana pointed out. “If there’s anything in there, I’ll just eat it.”

Baby dragons, Andromeda thought, but she didn’t say it. Zana and Vyzan were committed, and the only person who could stop them now was out hunting.

She took a deep breath. “Fine,” she said. She cautiously walked up the steps, and looked between her smirking sisters and at the darkness beyond. She could see the contours of the room beyond, but she wasn’t entirely sure what was waiting for them.

Zana stepped through the opening first, followed by Vyzan. With a shaky step, Andromeda followed.

In the shadows of the Treeden, it took a few moments for her eyes to adjust, but before long she was able to make out what was in the room she now found herself in. All around her were shapes and structures she didn’t recognize or understand. Strange, blocky wooden shapes, weird colors, and debris scattered everywhere. There was nothing moving inside besides a few bugs that scattered away at their footsteps, but the smell of dead tree and rotten wood was overpowering. Beneath that, there was something else, too… a stink that seemed familiar, but was still too faint for her to place.

That feeling of distant familiarity, that tugging at the back of her mind, was even stronger in here. She wanted to turn tail and run, but Zana was already forging ahead, sniffing various objects in curiosity. She reached the far side of the room and stood next to a short, square wooden structure that leveled out with her horns. It had multiple alcoves in it that were filled with strange, rectangular objects that Andromeda had never seen before. Zana smelled one of them, and then stopped, taking a much deeper sniff.

“Come and smell this,” she said, making room for them. She took one of the objects and flipped it over, running her snout down its length. “They smell really nice.”

Andromeda cautiously paced over and reached out one of her forelegs, hooking a claw over the top of the object and pulling it out. The outside was made of a tough material she was unfamiliar with, but as she held it, it spread open from the opposite side in her heads. Inside were multiple, razor-thin sheets of another material that Andromeda didn’t recognize, but it gave off a powerful earthy, woody aroma, with a hint of sweetness to it.

She had to admit that Zana was right. It was a nice smell.

Zana too had figured out the objects opened, and was flipping through the sheets, inhaling their fumes with a dreamy expression on her face. Andromeda began flipping through them herself, but found herself caught off guard by what she found in them. Inside each of the sheets were countless small black writings; so many that they covered each sheet from head to two in smooth, even lines.

Another memory came to her, only this one was actually concrete. She remembered some of Ayvaire’s song, sowing images in the minds of her dragonets of wondrous stories. Some of them involved objects like these – but far larger, big enough for adult dragons to hold. She was pretty sure if Ayvaire tried to handle this, it’d tear apart in her talons.

A word came to her, one she had heard in Ayvaire’s songs. One she had always been fascinated by, wondering if one day she’d ever be able to experience herself.

Books.

“I… I think these are books,” she said. She flipped through the pages with her claws, tearing at some of them with their sharpness, and winced. Try as she might, though, she couldn’t read them. Now that she was trying, she wasn’t even sure how.

“Let me see!” Vyzan exclaimed excitedly. She had also been curious about books whenever her mother mentioned them. Thinking back, Andromeda thought of the few times Ayvaire had talked about books outside of her songs. She mentioned that she had read some before, and if she got the chance, she’d love to teach her dragonets how to read. Unfortunately, it had been years since she had found any books made for dragons to read.

Clearly, these weren’t for dragons to read. They were too small and too fragile. Even holding them caused them to tear and crumble in her claws.

But, then, who were these made for.

Vyzan excitedly grabbed a book and started to flip through it. Andromeda closed hers and placed it back onto the structure where she had found it. She wanted to look through the others, but something on top of the structure caught her eye. It was a flat object, larger than the books, that was propped up at an angle by some sort of stand. It had a textured border, but in the center was a flat, perfectly smooth, gleaming material that almost reminded Andromeda of the lake when it was perfectly still. She wondered if she’d be able to see her reflection in this. It was a little too dark, and a little too angled to tell.

She picked it up and looked it over. Her mind almost didn’t register what she was seeing at first. There were strange shapes within the glass that for sure weren’t her reflection, but then, things clicked into place. What she was looking at was a creature entirely unlike anything she’d seen. It was tall and lanky in a way that sent chills down her spine, and it was completely barren of scales or feathers or fur save a patch on its head and some material she couldn’t recognize that covered its body. Most of all, it was looking straight at her.

Partially, it was the shock of seeing such a strange image that tipped her over the edge, but there was more to it than that. Something in her mind recoiled completely from what she was seeing. It was like an image from the depths of her subconscious had been dislodged and floated to the surface, and her mind was fighting to force it back down. Only, it couldn’t, because it was real.

For once, she remembered her recurring nightmare, the one she could never remember. What she saw made her scream. With a roar of fear forcing its way from her jaws, she dropped the object and watched as it shattered on the floor. Shards of the smooth material scattered across the ground, but the image remained. She stumbled backwards, towards the front opening, and threw herself back into the daylight – anything to get away from those faces.

Vyzan was right behind her, and when she finally stood still at the base of the steps, her sister flung her wings around her and gripped her tight.

“Andromeda!” she exclaimed. “What happened?”

The purple dragonet trembled, sinking her claws into the leaves and undergrowth, trying to ground herself but finding only the Stonepath. She could still see those eyes staring back at her, as if she were seeing some sort of twisted reflection of herself.

But that’s not me! She thought in protest. I’m a dragon… I’m a dragon!

Her sister’s embrace tightened as she started to hyperventilate, her heart beating just a little too quickly in her chest. Something strained within her head, as if a locked door she didn’t even know was there was dangerously close to breaking open. She didn’t know what was behind it and she didn’t want to know. She just wanted it to go away.

She closed her eyes and tucked her head into Vyzan’s wing, leaning into her sister’s warmth and trying to ground herself. She could hear Zana behind them, growling at something inside of the Treeden. “Where is it, Andra?” she nearly roared. “I’ll bite it!”

A huge shadow passed over them, and then something crashed into the ground behind them.

“Andromeda!” their mother roared.

Immediately, Andromeda leapt out of Vyzan’s embrace and ran to Ayvaire. The massive teal dragoness wrapped a thick foreleg around her dragonet’s body, drawing her close to her belly and giving her a reassuring lick across her smooth scalp. Now in her mother’s embrace, Andromeda felt herself calming down. The door in her mind was fading back into the shadows of her subconscious, and her heartrate was beginning to slow once again.

Ayvaire was humming, a soft song of safety and protection. She felt her legs give out, and she collapsed against her mother’s form, her worries fading away, the only trace left of them a few stray tears that had formed in her eyes. Ayvaire picked her up off of the ground and cradled her against her chest.

Her gaze turned to Vyzan and Zana, who froze.

“Back to the lake. Now.” Her voice was calm yet stern in a way that betrayed an underlying note of fury. Ayvaire was gentle with her dragonets, but she was in no way above disciplining them when they acted out.

Vyzan and Zana hung their heads and nodded.

Ayvaire snorted, and spread her wings, leaping into the air. The leaves and tree branches shuddered in the wind generated by the beat of her mighty wings, many dislodging and raining down to the forest floor. She kept Andromeda held tightly against her chest. The first few times she had done this, Andromeda remembered being frightened that her mother might drop her. Dragons weren’t naturally afraid of heights, but it was different when you weren’t even old enough to fly yet. She had come to realize very quickly that she had nothing to worry about. There was no way Ayvaire would ever let her fall.

She knew she was likely in for a scolding when they finally returned to the lake, and she was still rattled by what had happened. But after the scare she had gone through, she was just glad to be safe in her mother’s grip.

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Ayvaire landed next to the lake, a short distance away from the rest of the dragonets. They looked over at her arrival, but with a curt look towards them she made it clear that she wanted to be left alone with Andromeda.

She let the purple hatchling go, and Andromeda stumbled to get her footing and moved a few paces away so she could look up at her mother. Concern and disappointment warred in the pond dragoness’s eyes.

“What happened?” she asked.

The fear was fading, and it was being replaced by shame, as Andromeda remembered that she had also been caught disobeying her mother. She looked down to the ground, having difficulty meeting her eyes.

“I saw… something in the Treeden,” she said. She told Ayvaire about the books they had found, and the strange object she had seen above it. She tried her best to describe the creature she saw reflected in it.

“Why did it scare you?” Ayvaire asked. Her expression was softening just a little bit, leaning more to the side of concern.

“I…” Andromeda trailed off, trying to think back. The feelings were growing hazy now. She remembered something about her dreams, but… she couldn’t remember what exactly.

“They looked weird,” she said, still fumbling for an explanation. “And… You know how the pond looks on a quiet day? You know how you can see yourself in the water?”

Ayvaire nodded.

“It was like that… except it wasn’t me looking back. At least, I hope not.”

Ayvaire looked at her for a long while, her expression unreadable. Andromeda almost worried she had upset her mother, before she finally spoke again.

“Do you have dreams, Andromeda?” she asked.

Andromeda paused. “Yeah… Doesn’t everyone?”

“Do you ever have weird dreams that you can’t understand?”

Andromeda screwed her eyes shut and shook her head. For a moment, she was frustrated that she couldn’t remember.

“Yes,” she said. “Sometimes. I don’t think about them much. I can’t remember most of them.”

Ayvaire seemed to consider her response. Then, she leaned down and gave her head another comforting lick. “You are so young. There is so much you don’t understand.”

Andromeda rolled her eyes. She hated getting that response.

“What you saw was not you. Some species once found a way to capture their own images. What you saw was nothing but someone else’s memory.”

“So… those things actually exist?” Andromeda asked, shuddering.

Ayvaire wrapped a wing around her and lowered her head. “Not anymore. Not for a long time.”

“Oh. What happened to them?”

Ayvaire lifted her head and looked towards the forest, seeming to lose herself for just a moment. “Bad things.”

From the way she talked, Andromeda thought that maybe she knew what happened to them a lot more personally than she let on.

“Is that what your nightmares are about?” she asked.

Ayvaire looked back down at her in surprise. “What?” she asked.

“I know you have nightmares sometimes. We’ve all heard you waking up. And you seem… really sad sometimes. I’m never sure why.”

Ayvaire tightened her wing’s grip around her daughter, and her gaze became serious. “Things haven’t always been easy for me,” she admitted. “There are… things that you don’t know. About where you came from, and what happened to the world.”

Andromeda blinked in confusion. “Where I came from…? Didn’t I come from you?”

Ayvaire stiffened, as if she realized she had made a mistake. “…I did not lay your egg,” she finally admitted.

Andromeda stiffened in shock… but less surprise than she expected to feel. It made sense, in a way. All of her siblings looked so different, and none of them looked like Ayvaire.

But… did that mean that Ayvaire wasn’t her mother? The very thought filled her with sadness.

As if sensing her distress, Ayvaire nuzzled her side and hugged her tight. “I did not lay your egg,” she said. “But I am your mother. You are my daughter. Every single one of you is my everything. One day, you will understand. But for now, you are just a hatchling. All you need to know is that everything is okay. You are safe.”

----------

Andromeda had more questions than ever before. But there, in the warmth of her mother’s embrace, she stored them in the back of her mind.

Zana and Vyzan arrived shortly after, their heads lowered to the ground. Ayvaire scolded all three of them, and told them they weren’t to leave her side for the rest of the night even to play with the others. Andromeda was as disappointed as the other two, but… she had a bit more to think about.

Their mother left them alone one more time, making sure their siblings watched them closely so that they wouldn’t sneak off again. Not that Andromeda had any interest in doing so – although Zana wouldn’t stop talking about the book smell.

Vyzan was concerned about Andromeda, and felt bad about pushing her to go into the house. Andromeda accepted her apology, and allowed her to lay next to her, but still couldn’t take her minds off of what her mother had said. She replayed them over and over and over, but came no closer to finding the truth. Wild ideas played in her mind, but everything was just as likely as the next thing.

Eventually Ayvaire returned, and after they all ate her catches, she spent the rest of the night with Vyzan and Zana at her mother’s side. Even as the other hatchlings played in the lake, they had to stick beside their mother in the shallows. As Andromeda huddled up to her warmth, though, her soothing presence began to calm her nerves, one by one. She trusted her mother. She wanted to be with her forever.

When night finally came, and it was time for the hatchlings to go to sleep, Ayvaire began her song under the light of the moon and stars. It was a little different each night, sometimes straying across familiar melodies and lyrics, sometimes finding something new, but always presenting them with new combinations, new timings, new variations on the melody. Her songs were warm and soft, like the shallow pond on a hot summer day. The hatchlings joined in her song, adding their own unique melodies. To any observer, it would likely sound like a chorus of off-key dragonets – which is what it was – but for them, it was a symphony they were all a part of. They shared their lives together, and they were each others’ entire world. They were a family – and even if the past had its secrets, and even if they had come together under unusual circumstances, that didn’t change anything truly important.

One by one, the hatchlings’ songs faded to silence as they all drifted off to sleep. Soon, only Andromeda and a talonful of others were left.

Ayvaire’s song began to fill her heart and mind, the outside world fading to black. In it was wonder, joy, and hope – but also a promise.

Don’t worry, little one. Worry is for grown dragons. Worry is the price that comes with maturity. It is one you don’t yet have to pay.

One day, you will leave me. You’ll grow into a big, strong, beautiful dragoness, and the sky and the world will be yours. You’ll have adventures, find a mate, and become a fierce huntress. When the time comes, you’ll be ready for it all – even the truth. One day, you will know everything.

But until that day, you are my hatchling. You are safe. I will protect you from anything.

And I will always be with you.