Chapter 15: In the Shadow of Paws and Candor

Nelneras knew something had gone wrong the instant the weave gave way beneath him. It snapped like a harp string drawn too tight, and the illusion cloaking his form collapsed in a blinding pulse of golden light. Where once perched a quiet hawk, hidden among the branches, now a full-grown dragon erupted into being. His wings tore through the canopy in a burst of shattering limbs and startled birds. Talons scraped bark. Feathers turned to scale.

In an instant the world threw a rope around him and gave him a persistent tug that made the branch he was on snap like a twig. He crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs, gouging a long trench through moss and meadow. His shoulder struck a log. His tail swept through an herb patch he silently hoped wasn't medicinal. The world rang with the sound of his graceless arrival.

Silence clung to the glade. A cluster of wyrmlings stared mouths parted in shock. Lyyreth's stance shifted, subtle but ready. From him, Infinity's spines flared with the sharp snap of a drawn blade. Nelneras barely managed to raise his head. “I can expl—"

The dragoness was already in the air.

She hit him like a divine punishment made scale and fang, slamming her full weight into his side. The two of them tore across the clearing in a mess of limbs and shredded bracken, his breath lost in the crush of her claws.

“Assassin!" she roared, lightning already dancing across her teeth.

“Not an assassin!" he gasped, trying to writhe free.

Her response came swift and merciless. “Exactly what an assassin would say while being tackled."

He attempted to twist beneath her, shoving back with one shoulder, but his wing snagged under a root, locking him in place. “Do assassins fall out of trees like slapstick ghosts?!"

“You tell me." She growled, lips curling as arcs of electricity rolled along her gums.

Lyyreth's voice came steady and low, cutting across the chaos with effortless command. “Axton, gather the children. Please."

“But he—" Began the mage.

“Now!"

Infinity lunged.

He barely had time to raise a magical shield. Golden light flared as her claws slammed into the barrier, the impact ringing out like a struck bell. Sparks leap between their scales, the air thick with heat and fury.

He backed off, paws scrambling in the moss, tail lashing to keep distance. “This isn't what it looks like, your son—"

“You cloaked yourself to watch my son break down alone in the woods."

“Yes, but not—gods, not like that—"

Her snarl cut him off. “You were in a tree."

Nelneras winced. “Okay, yes, it looks bad—"

She spun. Her tail cracked across his hindleg.

The blow sent him skidding, moss and mint tearing under his claws as he hit the ground hard.

From across the glen, Lyyreth's voice rose, measured, dry, and unimpressed. “Infinity. If you kill him before he finishes a sentence, I won't know whether to bury him or apologize to him."

“Then dig the hole and polish your apology, love," she growled, dragging Nelneras upright and slamming him down again. “I'm multitasking." Her claws pressed in, lightning flickering along her lips. “He's lucky I'm not breathing fire."

Nelneras coughed, flattened beneath her weight. “If I die here, at least let the song be accurate: noble dragon mistaken for stalker, slain by furious mother in flower-scented glen. Tragic. Poetic. Easily set to harp."

Her snort was pure contempt. “Oh, I'll make sure it rhymes, goldling. 'Crushed like a bug for spying on my cub.'" Her claws dug deeper. “Now hold still, and maybe I'll let you hum the chorus."

Nelneras' eyes narrowed, the gleam of gold dulled by irritation. “I'd rather hum a dirge." he muttered, bracing his hind legs beneath her crushing weight. With a grunt, he twisted, claws digging into the earth as he heaved sideways.

Infinity's stance faltered, her claws slipping just enough for him to slip freely.

He sprang clear in a lunge of golden muscle. “Can't we talk about this!?"

She surged forward, paw swinging in a brutal arc.

He reeled back, breath catching as her claws missed by inches. “Right," he rasped. “Less words."

“You can speak once I've broken ever bone in your body." she warned.

“I'd prefer to talk without my entire skeleton shattered."

She snarled, stalking through the grass. “Then stop squirming like prey."

Nelneras slashed a line in the earth with one claw; golden flame burst upward, roaring into a ring of twisting fire. Heat shimmered between them.

Infinity tore through the flames without slowing, her outline wreathed in smoke and fury.

“Gods above." he muttered. The ground beneath him shuddered. Vines burst from the soil, thick, bark-wrapped, and clearly enchanted. They snapped around his limbs and torso with brutal force, slamming him to the ground as if the forest itself were taking sides. He twisted, thrashed, but the vines held fast.

Infinity hit him like a falling star. The impact cracked the glen. Soil erupted. Ferns flattened. His wings folded under the force of her strike, tail lashing as he gasped against the crushing weight.

“I wasn't here to harm anyone!" Nelneras choked, voice strained and cracking.

Her laugh cracked through the glen like brittle thunder. “For someone who didn't intend to 'not harm anyone' you sure seemed hell intent on getting close to use while hidden." Her claws pressed deeper into his chest, the weight behind them cold and certain. “Were you here to poison him? Curse him? Steal his magic? Or maybe devour him without me knowing? Say it, before I decide which one fits best."

Nelneras met her glare, breath tight. “He told me he was raised by dragons but then denied the statement about it the next morning. I couldn't leave it alone. It was a mystery, and I'm cursed with curiosity stronger than sense. I followed, yes. I watched. But when I saw him, laughing with wyrmlings, surrounded by you both, looking… happy, everything I suspected turned out false. I've never seen or heard of a family such as yours before I had to know more. Yes, I was stalking from the shadows, but I swear on my life I wasn't here to hurt him. I only wanted to understand."

“That's your excuse? A mystery?" Infinity's voice dropped to a low, simmering heat, curling like smoke off a smoldering blade. “You stalked my son for answers?" She leaned closer, eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “And what was the plan exactly after you got your answers? Take your findings and write a thesis on us. Or were you going to keep out of sight for who knows how long and keep watching us for your personal amusement?"

“I didn't mean—" he began, but her claws drove harder, shutting the words down at the source.

“And if you weren't going to stay hidden, then tell me o great shiny one, was your next idea to come out to either of us or my son and play dumb knowing all the answers you seek while attempting to pull Loki's cloak over our eyes?" she hissed. “You're not clever, goldling. You're just shiny and dumb enough to think spying passes for a hello." Her tail lashed once behind her, cracking a low branch with a sharp report. “Assuming you aren't lying, at which point I'm going to gut you like a fish," she growled, hot breath ghosting over his muzzle, “you should learn some manners in introductions, instead of lurking like some oversized magpie with a boner for mysteries."

Nelneras shifted, tried to speak, but the vines crept higher with serpentine purpose. One coiled around his snout, silencing him with a slow, deliberate squeeze.

Infinity's voice dropped again, low and dangerous. “Your words mean nothing." she said. “I've heard better from assassins with sharper tongues." She leaned in until their noses touched. “We'll unravel your secrets soon enough."

The vines tightened, groaning like drawn rope.

“And when we do," she whispered, a slow, wicked smile curling across her snout, “I won't be this polite."

Pinned beneath claw and spell, Nelneras swallowed his pride, and the rising weight of dread. For all his strength, he had no words left. Only the quiet understanding of someone who knew, too late, that he should metaphorically have knocked at the door.

** * * * * * * * * *

Did he regret his life choices, lying flat on his back, wrapped in vines as thick as rope and just as merciless? Not especially. Even as the black-scaled dragoness barked for assistance, something about a kobold named Azzik and reagents for a truth spell, Nelneras found himself more fascinated than fearful.

His attention remained fixed on the bark-laced coils binding his limbs and snout, clearly a modified Entangle spell, but denser, reinforced beyond normal forest craft. The moment the vines withdrew from his muzzle, he turned sharply toward the green dragon seated before him.

“That was… a masterwork of hybrid spellwork," he said, voice hoarse but eager. “Did you blend leyline compression with temporal root-binding?"

Lyyreth's frills darkened a modest green. He lifted a paw, rubbing the back of his talon with soft embarrassment. “Ah. Close. It's reinforced through a sigil braid—channeling through the grove's natural convergence. Are you… versed in arcane weaving?"

Nelneras tilted his head, despite the vines straining at his neck. “I experiment. Mostly fusion theory. I once tried to lace Dispel Magic into a Mirror Image field. Nearly blinded a cyclops."

“That sounds… dangerous." A quiet smile tugged at Lyyreth's snout. “And strangely brilliant."

“A kindred mind in the wilds. Delightful."

A sharp snort sliced through the air like a blade through silk.

“Darling," Infinity said with deceptive sweetness, “perhaps don't flirt with the assassin. He's still wrapped in our vines, and you're giving him ideas."

“No, no. I get it." Nelneras shifted his gaze toward her, smirking faintly. “He's the nice one. You're the growling, probably-going-to-kill-me one. Honestly, it's not subtle."

She rolled her eyes with all the dramatic flair of an exasperated goddess. “Oh great, the assassin thinks he's a comedian. You're not that funny, gold boy."

“I'm not flirting." Lyyreth muttered, focusing on a patch of moss like it held the answers to his embarrassment.

“And I'm not an assassin," Nelneras interjected. “Though I am flattered by your continued belief that I'm important enough to be one."

Narrowed eyes met him, sharp as glass. “You skulked in a tree over my son's party. You're lucky we didn't set the forest on fire and call it pest control."

The gold squirmed in his bindings, vines creaking with tension. “If you'd kindly lift your spell, I'd be more than happy to explain myself. I'm confident that once you've heard everything, you'll realize I'm exactly as harmless as I look."

“Yeah, that's not happening." Infinity leaned in, voice like smoke over coals. “Not until I know—without a flicker of doubt—what your actual intentions were…" Her claw jabbed his snout. “Assassin."

“If I were one, Axton and the little ones would be dead." he replied flatly, then winced as her tail cracked the earth like a whip.

“Poor choice of words." Lyyreth murmured, adjusting a vine with an apologetic glance.

“I realize that" Nelneras admitted. “The point is: I wasn't trying to kill anyone."

A dismissive toss of her head sent shadows dancing through the grove. “Please. You don't have to lie anymore. I watched you fight; you weren't holding back. Face it, pyrite. You tasted that dirt faster than your first attempts at flying."

“If I had been trying, you wouldn't have walked away." he growled through clenched teeth.

“Oh, and I wasn't trying either," she shot back, smirking as she flicked his snout. “Despite the temptation, I don't interrogate corpses. Not nearly as talkative."

“You could've fooled me," he muttered. “Is this how you treat all guests?"

“Only the ones who stalk my family from the treetops," she purred, glancing toward her mate. “Right, dearest?"

A calm nod was Lyyreth's only reply. “You really are in no place to boast, stranger. Best tuck the pride away before it gets you into further trouble."

“Speak for yourself," the gold huffed. “I complimented your spellwork and your mate called me a liar."

Infinity stepped closer, shadows swallowing her form as she pressed down, just enough to make her point.

“And what should I call you before I paint the forest with your entrails?"

“Nelneras," he winced. “I thought you were waiting for the truth spell. Or has my charming personality already soothed your fire?"

A groan escaped her, frustration laced with disbelief. “Gods above, he reminds me of Veledar. Nel, how many times do you need to get pinned before you find some humility?"

“Why won't you let me explain?" he snapped, testing the vines again. “I know I crossed a line. I'm trying to apologize!"

Lyyreth's head tilted, curiosity dancing in his calm gaze. “He does sound rather reasonable. Perhaps we should let Axton speak to him? I'm sure he'd ask all the right questions."

A slow turn of Infinity's head made the vines rustle. Her stare could have cut through diamonds. “That's exactly what he wants us to think. Isn't it, Nelneras?" Her voice dropped into a growl, wings flaring, the faint flicker of lightning curling between her fangs. “Act sweet. Soft. Lure us in… and the moment we blink, that's when you gut us like fish!"

A sigh left the bound dragon. “You do like gutting things, don't you?"

“Oh, I really do," she purred, savoring the words. Her voice had the softness of velvet drawn taut over a blade, eyes glinting with grim delight. “I'm very good at killing things."

“She is," came Lyyreth's resigned reply, accompanied by a slow shake of his head. “Darling, it won't help if he pisses himself before Azzik even arrives."

“Why not?" Infinity grinned, all wicked teeth and mischief. “It's fun to see those who mean you harm squirm. You should try it sometime."

“I'd rather not." His wings tucked closer, voice bone-dry. “We're interrogating him, not auditioning him for a horror ballad."

A faint grunt escaped Nelneras as he shifted beneath the vines. “Then why bother uncovering my snout if you're not going to listen?" His eyes flicked toward the tree line. “Let me speak to Axton. He's close, I can smell him. He'll hear me out."

Infinity made a talking motion with her claws, dismissive as a queen swatting flies. “Blah, blah, blah. Not happening, tree-spy."

Soft words followed, gentle as mist fall. “You do realize how bad this looks, right?" Lyyreth's voice barely rose above a whisper.

“Yes," Nelneras groaned. “Yes, I do. That's why I didn't reveal myself right away. I was going to. He used the watch I gave him; he wanted to talk to me."

“Seems truthful," Lyyreth mused, casting a thoughtful glance to Infinity. “Maybe give him a little breathing room?"

“You were the gryphon my son talked too?! You lied to my son, got him to reveal his secrets with a wink and a smile, and then proceeded to give him a magical trinket to stalk him to our home?!" She leaned in again, her growl a low, steady threat. “I'm not letting him have anything even for a moment! I'm not giving him anything until the spell is cast."

A groan escaped him. “The spell. The one dragons can resist. Especially golds. It won't work unless I let it."

“Oh, we know, smartass." Her claw pressed to his chest, slow and deliberate. “But if you try to resist…" Her voice turned razor-sharp. “I'll know. And then I'll peel the truth out of you one scale at a time."

“So, I suggest cooperating," Lyyreth added with practiced calm. “We only want honesty. Stop the snarking and quit pretending you're cleverer than this situation allows." A soft, almost apologetic smile curved his lips. “If you are the gryphon he met, and your intentions truly are noble… then I'd be happy to know you. And despite what she says," he nudged Infinity gently with his wing, “she would too. She's quite affectionate once you get past the armor of death."

Spines flaring in exasperation, Infinity hissed, “Lyyreth! Could you not undermine me in front of the assassin?"

“Still not an ass- ack!" Nelneras choked as Infinity's spear like tail snapped and pressed its tip against his throat hard enough for him to feel even under his scales.

A soft chuckle slipped from Lyyreth as he leaned in, his frills tucked close and his muzzle brushing hers. “Infinity, sweetheart… I'm here to make sure you don't get too out of paw. Especially not with our son's mysterious acquaintance here. I'm fairly certain Axton wouldn't be thrilled about you frying him with lightning."

“We don't even know if he actually likes him or is just using him for some nefarious means." she muttered, tossing her head with a huff.

“But what if he does like Axton?"

“Then it'll be worse for him." Her growl deepened, weight pressing harder on the pinned gold dragon.

“It's true!" Nelneras blurted, seizing the moment. Panic flared across his scales as he squirmed beneath her. “I found him fascinating! You should be proud, he's a clever, sharp-witted, a delightful conversationalist! I was so captivated, I risked even coming here to this forest knowing it belonged to the Emerald Lady herself!" A nervous laugh escaped him. “Honestly, I was terrified he might be her son." His eyes scanned the grove. “Where is she, by the way?"

Lyyreth's tone fell like a stone into still water, laced with distant memory. “Dead. Years ago." He met Nelneras' gaze. “And I am her son. Well… one of them."

The gold dragon blinked, whiskers twitching in surprise. “You?" He stared, baffled. “No offense meant, truly, but you don't exactly scream 'child of the big scary dragoness.' How did she end up raising you?"

“She was…" A pause. Then Lyyreth looked away, voice softening. “Complicated. That's the kindest word I can give."

“That's one way to put it." Infinity's voice snapped back like a whip, her smirk a little too sharp. She turned her attention on Nelneras again, a predator savoring the game. “And why, exactly, do you care whether he was human or not? And why do you care who raised him?"

“Because I found it inspiring!" Nelneras said quickly, almost desperately. “All of this—what you've built—it's everything I've ever wanted. You have something rare here. Beautiful. I…" he hesitated, then admitted, “I was raised by humans myself. I understand the struggle. The not-belonging. Watching, learning, not knowing your place."

Infinity raised a brow, half-lidded and unimpressed. “Hah. Touching. Maybe. Or maybe it's just another pretty tale, gold-boy." Then her ears twitched. She perked slightly, as the sound of hurried pawsteps approached. Her sigh was one of relief, if laced with mockery. “Oh, thank the stars, Azzik's here. Maybe now we can finally get some honesty out of you."

“I was telling the truth!" Nelneras snarled, vines creaking as he pulled against them.

Through the underbrush came a grey-scaled kobold, lean and spry, his robes fluttering like parchment in the wind. His long snout was flushed with effort, and his golden eyes darted between the dragons in the clearing with a mixture of nervous energy and determined focus.

Intricate embroidery marked his vestment symbols of Glenreich gleamed in copper and gold thread, woven into black silk. A crystal amulet swung at his chest, cradled among scrolls, satchels, and bundles of moss root. The holy symbol, a radiant coin caged in a lattice of light, rested against his heart, pulsing faintly in the sun-dappled shade.

He dropped to one knee beside the bound dragon, head bowed low, his claws steepled in devotion. “Lady Infinity," he panted, voice melodic and crisp, “forgive the delay. I was gathering the last of the moss root from the riverbank. The spell shall be ready in moments."

A flicker of discomfort danced across Infinity's snout. “Please, you don't have to do that," she huffed. “I already get enough of that from my mate."

With a sheepish smile, the kobold rose, tightening his grip on the satchel as he edged closer to the binding circle. “It's still an honor to assist you, Mistress Infinity. The goddess teaches that service given freely is never wasted."

His gaze flicked toward the tree line where hatchlings stirred just out of sight. “Oh, and Axton asked how long it would be until he could speak with the gold dragon?"

Infinity's gaze narrowed as she turned her head toward the tree line. Her voice rang out, sharp, “However long it takes!" she called, wings rustling. “Once I figure out why this shiny stalker thought hiding in trees was a good idea or where I should bury his body!" She turned back toward Azzik, muttering under her breath, “Stars above, the kid's too forgiving…"

Azzik offered Nelneras a tentative smile, nervous, apologetic, but not without kindness. “You must be the one everyone's yelling about. Um… do hold still, please. The truth spell works better if your breathing stays steady and your aura doesn't, ah… spark." He knelt again, setting out his tools with practiced care, a sprig of moonmint trembling between his claws as he etched the first lines of the circle.

“Should've blessed the incense before I left," he muttered to himself, eyes rolling skyward. “Glenreich forgive me… I know better…"

A sudden jolt of realization struck, and he nearly dropped a vial. “Ah! I nearly forgot—" Setting his satchel on the grass, he gently shifted bundles aside, careful not to crush the dried herbs or crack the waxed parchment scrolls tucked within. A claw flicked toward the tree line as he rummaged. “I also… came with help. He insisted."

Storm emerged from the tree line with thunder in his wake. The towering blue dragon rose to his full height, wings folding with casual dominance, silver eyes sweeping across the grove like judgment passed from on high. Every step crackled faintly on the moss-laced earth, as if even the ground braced itself for his arrival. “I heard that you might have needed some help?"

Infinity turned slightly, just enough for a side-eye glance that smoldered with dry amusement. “Were you just waiting over there?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Lurking behind the trees like a dramatic statue, waiting for your cue?"

The dragon huffed, and a low grumble vibrated in his throat. His tail gave a barely perceptible flick, just enough to betray the smile he didn't show. “Perhaps. I do know how to make an impression."

“Oh, you made one," she said, sarcasm flowing from her tongue like honey tipped with venom. She didn't bother to hide the roll of her eyes as she turned her head slightly, just enough to give him the edge of her disdain. “Even the birds stopped singing. I think one fainted."

The blue dragon gave a slow blink, unbothered. “And here I thought you'd be grateful."

“I didn't need your help," she said, chin rising, gaze flicking away as he moved in closer. Her posture remained steady, unshaken, but her tail gave a betraying twitch. “But fine. Stay. Sulk. Loom dramatically. Do what you do best."

A snort came in answer, dry and bristling with amusement. Storm stepped to her side with the grace of something long accustomed to looming. “I needed a break from Lyndis anyway."

Infinity raised one brow ridge, just enough to carry the weight of her amusement. “Trouble with the queen again?" Her snout curled faintly. “What did she win from you this time, your pride, your last shred of dignity, or another chunk of your hoard?"

“I swear she's found a new way to rob dragons." His wings gave a twitch as if even recalling the game vexed him. “Bluffing us into bidding our hoards like fools. I put up a gem cutting wand, Infinity. A gem cutting wand."

When his eyes turned toward the bound figure in the clearing, all humor drained from his face.

“This," he growled, voice lowering with the threat of distant thunder, “must be the infamous branch-watcher. The treehopper. The mysterious pervert with poor timing."

Words refused to come.

Nelneras struggled to speak, but his voice had been stolen by the weight of the moment. His throat tightened like a coiled vine. Of all the outcomes he'd prepared for, accusation, interrogation, perhaps even the cruel mercy of battle, this had not been one of them.

The dragon standing before him was more than legend. Ramakox. The Swirling Storm. A name etched into granite tablets, carried on banners, whispered in breathless awe to hatchlings too young to know fear. His wings had cast shadows across kingdoms. His roar had silenced tyrants. And now, those same wings folded with practiced ease as he stared down at Nelneras like judgment given shape.

A swallow cuts the silence. Nelneras lowered his eyes but couldn't stop the awe from leaking into his voice. “Are you—are you the Swirling Storm?" His words cracked like brittle parchment. “The white wind of Raethold. Slayer of the Black Sea's Flame-Tyrant. Author of the Caelum Tundra Treaty—"

“Author?" He repeated, his eyes flicking toward Infinity with amused disbelief. “Did someone write that one down? I thought it was just a yell and a smashed table."

The gold dragon, despite his bindings, pushed forward. “I studied your techniques," Nelneras said, breath catching. “Your three-pronged wing feint. The collapse maneuver through thunder currents. Pressure riding. Precision dives. I studied you."

 “Wonderful. This stalker learned how to stalk from me."

He circled the captive now, each step heavy with silent judgment, deliberate as the turning of seasons. Moss crunched under his talons as he moved, his presence filling the glade like a storm cloud thickening the air.

“And now here you are," he said, voice quiet as lightning on the cusp of striking, “lurking in trees at my grandson's hatchday celebration. Not a formal greeting. Not even a polite roar."

His gaze sharpened, smile gone.

“Tell me, goldling," he said, his words cutting like wind through steel. “Did you think creeping around their glen would earn you a place in the next book of legends? Or were you planning to write your own saga—The Golden Idiot and the Mother's Claws?"

A sound of approval came from Infinity's throat—low, pleased, dangerous.

One wing flared lazily, as though stretching before a strike. “Let me guess," Storm continued. “You 'meant no harm.' You were 'just curious.'"

Nelneras tried to speak, but the older dragon didn't slow.

“You sneak into their glen," Storm said, stepping closer, “wrapped in illusion and silence, watching a hatchday from the trees like some scale-slicked ghoul… And for all that trouble? You didn't even bring a will."

He paused, letting silence bite harder than sound. A moment passed. Then came the sneer. “Hope someone knows where you want your bones scattered."

His steps carried him in a slow circle around the bound gold dragon, claws pressing into earth with deliberate weight. Eyes swept over the captive like a craftsman; a huff broke the stillness. “Bit more tarnish than I expected, considering the fuss." He sniffed once. “And here I thought golds were supposed to gleam, you sure aren't a pyrite dragon?"

Lyyreth tilted his head with the ease of someone long acquainted with chaos. “Stars above, Storm," he murmured, tail giving a gentle flick. “We're here to question him. Not compose the eulogy."

The vines surrounding Nelneras pulsed slightly, a subtle reminder of control rather than cruelty.

“If we're already scattering bones," Lyyreth added, “perhaps you'll write the obituary. I imagine your pen is as sharp as your claws today." He sighed, glancing to Infinity, “Darling, do remind me, wasn't the plan to interrogate him, not terrify him into a catatonic state?"

Infinity didn't look at him immediately. A smirk had taken root, and she let it grow slowly. “Oh, I'm interrogating," she said. “Just with style." Her gaze slid to Lyyreth's, sharp and warm all at once. “You're the balm. I'm the fire. One loosens the soul, the other peels back the skin." She looked back down at the bound gold. “And if goldie here does pass out, it just means he'll get a quick end then."

“Still," Lyyreth said with a breath, “if you could both refrain from titling chapters for his posthumous memoir, I'd appreciate it."

Azzik crouched low, the hem of his golden-stitched robes brushing against the moss. He moved with practiced reverence. From his satchel, he withdrew a pouch of crushed shimmerleaf, silverroot threads, and three dull copper coins, all common reagents, but each wrapped in small silken pouches bearing the crest of Glenreich: a crystal coin wreathed in flame and light.

He drew the circle with care, his claw etching a thin groove through the damp earth around the bound Nelneras. Where roots broke the line, he brushed them back like sleeping serpents. As he worked, he whispered, his breath shaping a rhythm more than words, a quiet tune like a market hymn humming beneath tents.

Nelneras watched with furrowed brow.  “Interesting," he murmured, tail twitching. “Most truth circles I've seen are… stiff. Rigid. Like cages. But this has movement, like a contract drawn in good faith, not under duress."

The kobold cleric blinked, clearly unsure if it was a compliment. “It is a design I studied from the archives of Glenreich. A trade circle compels not only honesty, but clarity. Truth in the light of fair exchange."

 “You'll need to upcast it, you know," Nelneras said flatly. “Standard third-tier invocation won't be enough on a gold. We're annoyingly good at shrugging off lesser compulsions." He sniffed at the incense now smoldering beside him. “Cinnamon? Interesting choice. The Glenreichian flavor's… different. More elegant than I'm used to."

 “Your insight is appreciated, truly. I've already prepared the fourth-circle invocation." Azzik offered a polite smile but didn't look up from his work. Then he placed a glittering coin-shaped talisman at the circle's edge, whispering into it before it dissolved into dust, absorbed by the spell. “This one's not meant to browbeat truth, it invites it. Glenreich favors willing honesty through value and trust."

“Charming philosophy," Nelneras muttered. “Bit optimistic for a prison of light."

Infinity snorted. “Don't tempt me to reinforce it with spikes."

The final sigil completed, Azzik stood, brushing powder from his palms. He held his holy symbol, an intricate loop of crystal wrapped in silver coins, high and closed his eyes. “Glenreich, Lady of Balance, Witness of Worth," he intoned, his voice soft but resonant, carried on the glen's breeze. “In this place of verdant peace, reveal what is hidden in shadows, weigh the words of this creature, and grant us clarity, without malice or deceit."

A gentle pulse of light ran through the circle like a coin struck cleanly upon stone. It flared once and then settled, a dome of faint golden shimmer enclosing Nelneras like a breath held in crystal.

The gold dragon blinked, then let out a soft grunt. “…All right. That tingled. It's real." He gave Azzik a sidelong glance. “Credit where it's due, little cleric. That was clean work."

Azzik inclined his head, quietly murmuring, “Thank you. May the truth bring value."

 “Did it work?" Infinity tapped a claw against her chin, her eyes narrowing.

Azzik closed his eyes and focused for a moment while holding his symbol before opening them, “All who are present are under the spells effect, even this foolish one as well who did not resist its effect. By the lady of trades word, the truth is revealed to all now."

Storm grunted. His tail lashed once, betraying a rare flicker of discomfort. “Let us focus on him then," he said, voice flat as a thunderhead. Then, without pause or mercy from the spell's grip, he added, “I rather not tell how once I mistook Fremra's perfume bottle for seasoning oil. Marinated a whole elk in it." He let out a long, suffering exhale. “Tasted like jasmine-scented despair for a week."

“I once organized my scrolls by emotional impact. One entire shelf was labeled—" he cleared his throat, sheepish, “— 'Cried Three Times.'" Lyyreth casually muttered, only for his eyes widened a heartbeat later. “Ah. Well."

 “I hate these cursed spells," Infinity groaned. “I named my strongest lightning incantation 'Sparky.' And now, apparently, I whisper it like a lovesick idiot every time I cast it." The words had barely passed her lips before she flared her wings in frustration. “By the nine flaming hells. Let's just get this over with."

Nelneras chuckled; to think they hadn't practiced this much judging by them accidentally blurt such truths. Unfortunately for him, he was in the same boat, “I sometimes pretend I'm being watched while bathing. Just to pose more dramatically. In case I'm discovered." He said without thinking.

The grove was silent for half a breath. Then Infinity laughed a low, wicked thing full of delight. “Oh, this is going to be fun," she purred, stalking closer with a gleam in her eyes. “Come on then, gold boy. Let's see what else you're hiding."

** * * * * * **

Nelneras had always imagined that if he ever told the truth of his life—truly told it—he'd choose the time, the place, the lighting, and perhaps even the wine. He had not imagined doing so with scorched soil under his spine and the scent of singed moss in his nostrils.

The Zone of Truth took hold gently, almost tenderly, like fingers brushing his chin before a slap. He could feel it curl around his thoughts like velvet chains. There was no pain. Just pressure. And then it began to squeeze.

“I was raised by humans," he said, voice quiet, almost reverent. “Farmers. Cartwrights. Folk with sunburned skin and callused hands, who saw a trembling hatchling not as a threat or a sign from the gods, but as a child in need."

He smiled faintly, one of those smiles born more of reverence than joy, a look shaped by the soft weight of memory. “They taught me how to mend cart axles, how to brace fence posts against storm winds, how to find the strength in calloused hands. I learned magic at night. By candlelight. Quietly. Carefully. But during the day? I pulled plows. I hauled stones. I danced at midsummer festivals."

His voice dipped lower, touched with that golden hum of pride only earned through love. “They never feared me. Not once. Even as I started to shimmer in the sunlight. Even when the village priest began to suspect I wasn't just a gifted child with sharp eyes. I could change form by then, small enough to curl by the hearth, large enough to harvest the field if the mule broke its leg."

“I stayed because they were my family. I love them."

A pause, and his breath trembled at the edge. “And I still look after them. My brothers' children. Their children's children. I've outlived most of the ones who taught me to read, to walk, to laugh. But I remain their steward. Their guardian. When the coastlands grew sour and the crops failed, I brought them with me. All of them. We crossed the sea together, to Drakhaldeir."

His tone soured, gold scales dimming like storm-hushed flame. “We found land beneath Valcagor's shadow. I thought we would be safe."

“The Dragon Isles… Drakhaldeir… west of Rothdell's remains. An island off the coast, past the cliffs that smell like seaweed and salt." He described the sea breeze there, the tang of tilled earth beneath morning sun, the quiet sprawl of fields tucked beneath weathered hills.  “It was meant to be a sanctuary. A new age. That's what our Queen, The Enchanted Ruby, promised us. A world where dragons and non-dragons didn't just share the same soil, but dreams. Lives. Love." A glimmer of pride shone in his eyes. “She believes it. I know she does. She speaks of coexistence like it's a song we've forgotten how to sing, but one still waiting in our bones."

His jaw tensed. “But the song hasn't reached every ear. Most dragons still live as they always have, aloof, dominant, separate. And those under lords like Valcagor..." He trailed off, then snorted. “Well. They're too busy counting coins or sniffing their own legend to hear anything but their own echoes." He exhaled sharply with disdain and weariness as he told them of the three dragon “Lords" of Drakhaldeir. “Valcagor..."

A pause. Then a bitter laugh that didn't reach his eyes. “He's not a lord. He's a siege engine with tits full of gold and a mouth full of rot. A mountain of grease, greed, and groping talons wrapped in gaudy chains and belched arrogance. The Isles call him 'Treasurer'—but I've seen how he keeps his ledgers. Every coin has a whisper behind it. Every favor owed is a collar he can tug." Nelneras' claws curled into the grass. “I work for him, I fetch relics from sunken tombs, dredge up trinkets and lost magics he can hoard or sell. He calls it 'honor.' I call it what it is: service. He doesn't lead. He calculates. Watches. Waits. He'd rather spend a week plotting how to steal a sword for free than pay a single silver for a dagger." He spat the next words like a bile. “He calls my family 'pet humans.' Says I'm soft. Weak. That real dragons wouldn't waste breath protecting mortals. That I should be breaking gryphons over my hoard, not raising their kin like equals."

His lip curled, not at fear, but with fury. “To him, loyalty is something you wring out of a creature just before tossing it on the pile. If you're not part of his profit, you're in his way. I hope to one day advance past him, gain a more prodigious place among my kin, to promote my idealism."

“And then there is Veltheris," he muttered, tone dropping to disdainful amusement, “preens harder than a peacock with a personal sunbeam. Her hoard of enchanted mirrors is the worst-kept secret in the isles. I've seen her flirt with her reflection more than I've ever flirted with anything that breathes."

There was a pause. A tension. Then a sigh, as if he set aside the bitterness for a more delicate truth.

“Zaelith… the third one, now he's dangerous in a different way. Cunning. Regal. I hated him at first. Too polished. Too untouchable. But I watched him redirect a court of elder dragons with nothing but phrasing and timing. It was like watching a bard duel with silence."

He hesitated. “And that gryphon butler of his… Cassian? There's something there. They play it like master and servant, but I've seen how Zaelith looks at him when he thinks no one is watching. That's not business. That's something else entirely."

“So, when I heard of Arcturus and Veledar… of a dragon and a human, a Lund of all humans, not just tolerating one another, but living, loving, building a life together, I came to see if the dream could breathe. If it could live." He lifted his gaze then, toward the trees, the sky, maybe something farther still. “And then I met Axton, seemingly a gift from Bahamut herself."

“In a shop," Nelneras sighed, voice softer than before. “Just… a reagent shop, how utterly quaint. It had dusty shelves, mismatched glass, and dried herbs hanging from beams, which by the way, that shopper keeper did a terrible job organizing his reagents.  But yes, Axton was there, muttering to himself, comparing two vials by weight, checking the molarity of a tincture by scent alone. That's not something most mages do. That's something only someone who cares does."

Glancing at the trees, he tried to figure out the place Axton was hiding. Was he hearing him, his confession? What would he think? The dragon continued,

“There was this book on his hip—The Breath of the First Flame. And he didn't carry it like a trophy. He carried it like a promise. I asked him about Azhadros the Seeker and expected either confusion or pretension. What I got… was awe. He told me the story with reverence, not pride. He remembered the parts most forget."

He paused, turquoise eyes distant. “Everything about him was real. He was flustered but never fake. Nervous but not cowardly. There's this… earnest ache to him, like someone who's always holding back a little because he thinks too much. Not just about magic. About everything." Nelneras swallowed, the spell curling around his tongue again, compelling.

“He's not confident. Not really. Not yet. But when he laughs? He lights up. Like sunlight through stained glass. He forgets to hold it in, and in that moment, he's magnificent. And when he blushes—" he gave a strangled little laugh, “—it spreads all the way to his ears. His whole posture crumbles. He folds inward like a flower after dusk."

Infinity raised a brow but said nothing.

“I've lived a long time. I've seen grace. Power. Beauty. But none of it ever looked back at me with eyes like his, soft, thoughtful, and just a little sad. He makes me want to stay. To earn something." His voice dropped further. “We ran into each other at an Inn last night, he got drunk and told me about his family, he started to pass out where upon I took him to my room alone and… “He paused as his eyes grew wide from a soft growling hiss growing in Infinity's throat. “Did NOT take advantage of him in is peculiar state of mind." A snort was the response from the protective mother but so was her silence as well.

He continued, “I… wanted to wake him with a kiss. That morning, after the suite. Just one. I didn't. He was asleep, peaceful. And I didn't want to shatter that."

 “Do you understand?" Nelneras asked, glancing at Lyyreth. “He isn't just clever. He's hope. For what dragons and non-dragons could be. Everything my parents taught me, everything of what The Enchanted Ruby spouts… For what I could be."

That should have been the end. But the spell tugged again. And Nelneras' jaw moved before his heart could stop it. “And his thighs."

Lyyreth blinked. “Wait what?"

Infinity tense. “Um…"

Storm tilted his head like a wolf hearing something interesting for the first time.

Nelneras closed his eyes as his blood warmed, picturing that adorable human from the last eve, “the way he shifts his weight when he's standing still, the nervous fidgeting—he does this little tug on his sleeves when he's anxious and—oh Parunga help me—it's adorable."

He tried to clamp down on his words, but they poured out now, unbidden. “His scent. That mix of parchment and ash and soap. Then the way his eyes gleam before he casts a spell—like he's savoring the magic. His wrists are so slim I could pin them with a single claw. And his neck, it's made for biting—gentle biting," he amended quickly. “Mostly."

A pause. Then it truly unraveled.

“I want to mount him. Like a dragon. I want to pin him to the floor and rut him until he screams my name so loudly it echoes across kingdoms. I want to knot him so deep he whimpers as I paint his insides with my cum till his belly swells. Leave his legs trembling, his voice wrecked and whispering please, again—"

Infinity coughed. Violently.

Storm made a strangled noise that might have been “By the stars."

“I—I didn't mean—well, I did—but not to say—" Nelneras' whiskers pinned, mortified.

“Oh no, keep going," Storm said, eyes wide, tone bone-dry. “I haven't been this entertained since Lyndis beat me at strip poker and made me wear silk. Please, do describe your next position."

Nelneras' groaned, pressing his snout to the ground as the spell seeped in, loosening his inner desires. “And the collar!" he wailed. “I imagined him kneeling. Collared, his lips worshiping my length as though it was just for him. He'd look to me, eyes glossy, like I'm his god and ruin."

“Aaaand there it is," muttered Infinity, covering her snout. “For fucks sake."

“Well...That's one way to confess a crush." Azzik squeaked, eyes wide, most likely trying to not imagine the scene the gold dragon just described. “Anyone else need to take a cold dip?"

Good lord he'd done it now, why could he not have bitten off his tongue? Nelneras turned a brilliant shade of red-gold and made a noise that was not entirely unlike a dying bird. Storm had tossed back his head and was laughing, Lyyreth looked as though he might die. Infinity? She lashed her tail, eyes aflame, he was beginning to wonder if murder was on her mind. He gulped, “Ok, I know that might have sounded bad- “

“You want to do what to my son?" She snarled, talons cutting through the earth. Her spines flared, “Mount him. Knot him. Swell his belly with your seed?" Her tongue curled around the words like poison slipping into a goblet. “Tell me, Nelneras. Did you think I wouldn't gut the first dragon who thought of making my son squeal like a brothel-whore on festival night?"

She stalked closer, each step deliberate. Predatory. Beautiful in the way a thunderhead is beautiful, seconds before it breaks the world.

“I have skinned wyverns for looking at him wrong," she continued, tone velvet-wrapped fury. “And you? You're over here fantasizing about collars and stuffing him full like a meat pie?"

 “Infinity, deep breath, your spines are glowing—" Storm tried to interject.

“I know what they're doing, Storm!" She snapped, electricity crackling between her spines, barely restrained.

Nelneras whimpered.

“And you," she snarled, jabbing a claw at his snout, “could've confessed anything—anything at all—but no, you went with rutting fantasies and belly-swelling filth. Compelled or not, that came out a little too eager for my liking, especially from someone who just met my son yesterday. You sure there's not a stash of romance scrolls in your hoard, gold boy?"

“It wasn't supposed to come out like that!" Nelneras hissed. “It's just that your son—"

“My son," she growled, stepping close enough to make the air between them shiver, “is not some willing nest-sow for your desperate golden dick!"

“Well, it's black, not gold."

“I DON'T CARE WHAT COLOR YOUR DICK IS!"

There was a pause, then Lyyreth, ever the peacekeeper, sighed. “Darling. Perhaps we could simmer it back. You're… foaming."

“I am not foaming."

“You're definitely foaming." added Storm, tilting his head.

Infinity blinked, exhaled, and wiped her jaw with a claw, scowling when it came away slightly wet. “Fine," she snarled. “Maybe a bit." She turned back to Nelneras, breathing through her nose, eyes sharp as blades.  “Nelneras. You will not touch my son without his consent, without my permission, without a formal request delivered in writing and notarized by a cleric of decency, or gods above I will bring down the wrath of Parunga upon you."

“Yes ma'am." he squeaked.

“And if you even think about making him kneel—"

“I'll buy him a chair! I'll… light candles! Very respectful ones!"

Lyyreth gave a strangled sound.

“Fucking course it's a gold dragon." Infinity turned away with a huff, flaring her wings, “Can't just want a partner—no, it's gotta be soulmates, candlelight, and breeding until someone passes out. Why couldn't it have been a silver."

Nelneras, bound and breathless, dared a weak toothy smile. “…Well," he rasped, throat dry as sunbaked bone, “at least I'm not an assassin, right?" A single claw tapping the ground at the magic circle that was the zone of truth.

There was silence so vast it seemed to echo. Storm choked. Lyyreth looked away, covering his face with a wing. Infinity turned. Slowly. So slowly. Her expression like that of storm clouds deciding whether to become a hurricane.

Then came a sound. Soft. Sharp. Sharp as glass kissed by a summer breeze. A laugh. Not kind. Not cruel. Just a low, disbelieving exhale—half sigh, half wheeze—as Infinity shook “Storm, get me tea before I kill him. I'll fetch Axton. If he still wants to speak with this pyrite, I'll need proof that being enchanted by disaster is hereditary." She turned with a mutter, tail flicking. “Mount him like a dragon. Stars help me, if I had a silver for every drake who thought they were the first to discover pegging…"

Nelneras slumped in his bindings upon realizing he's wasn't getting out soon, pride barely clinging to his scales like morning dew. “…Still not an assassin."

           

*********

Hope yall are enjoying the story thus far, life has certainly been a doozy here. I'm glad to share it and bring any amount of happiness.  Don't forget to leave a comment, or a like and share, I read all of them. Hopefully Axton isnt devastated by what he just undoubtedly heard XD.