FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Since her death, Britosa has appeared every now and then to guide the dragon clans out of dangerous times, the last time she appeared to a dragon was in front of the entire clan, though they saw her, they had grown confident in their strength and therefore rebuked her, years passed and in a single night, not a soul was left alive, and the entire dragon species was left weaker than ever. Since then, Britosa hasn't appeared. Some speculate that, after the last time, she doesn't care about us anymore. Others say she is just saving her strength for when it matters most. Until she appears again, we will never know.

--Dragon Proverb

Chapter Seventeen

| |

Hithay leapt down from her perch. She pounced onto Xithris, knocking him away from Ymithia. Although Ymithia was wounded, bleeding from her neck, it was nothing Hithay's healing skills couldn't take care of.

Cyndrithil raced towards Xithris as Hithay as she tended to Ymithia. Her magic worked quickly mending the broken flesh and scales. As Hithay concentrated her magic on healing, Cyndrithil and Xithris grappled for control behind her, the strength and skills evenly matched.

Ymithia rejoined the fight not one second after her wounds were healed, reclaiming her presence with a resounding growl. Hithay remained on standby, knowing her limits. Her own combat skills would only make her a burden, yet her body ached to join the fight--to help in whatever way she could.

Hithay could tell that if it weren't for that black dragon's control, Xithris would have lost ages ago. Three long gashes tore across his belly, leaking blood at a tremendous rate. His arms were in the same shape as well. Along his neck, Hithay made out several bite marks. It was surprising his body hadn't already given out--or died outright.

If Xithris wasn't stopped soon, he would perish from blood loss. But the only way he could be stopped was to sever the link between the black dragon and Xithris.

As if Ymithia understood the same thing, she threw all hesitance away, tackling Xithris to the ground but earning a nasty wound along her chest in exchange.

"Cyndrithil," she called. "Help me pin him down! I need to sever the link!"

Cyndrithil hurried over, using all of his body weight to pin Xithris. His wings and tail couldn't be easily pinned though. They constantly wacked or whipped Cyndrithil, trying to dislodge him; yet the same pain that was trying to knock Cyndrithil off, only caused to strengthen his resolve.

Xithris's growls slowly grew weak, his wings and tail losing strength until finally he stilled.

From the looks of it, Ymithia succeeded. Otherwise, he would have fought to the death.

"Hithay, help me heal him," she called over.

Hithay sprang into action. Together with Ymithia, they were able to quickly close Xithri's wounds.

"Hithay, stay with Xithris. We are going after Anirin." With Xithris taken care of, Ymithia turned to leave.

Hithay found fault in that strategy. The dragon called Anirin was long gone by now, and since he was running, he must have had the forethought to hide his scent. They wouldn't find him, but maybe the dragons Hithay sent after him would keep him from getting too far.

"Wait!" she called before they two took off. "I have three dragons tailing him. They will return with news of Anirin's location and hopefully your son. Until then, wait here."

Cyndrithil's body trembled, either from anger or exhaustion. Most likely the latter.

"You expect us to wait here while our son is out there in who knows what condition?"

Hithay steadied her resolve, her eyes meeting Cyndrithil's with determination.

"Yes. Besides, how do you expect to find Anirin when there is likely no trace of him?"

Hithay scented the wind. There wasn't the slightest hint of unmistakable rotten flesh. Only Cyndrithil's, Ymithia's and Xithris's scent hung in the air.

Her words seemed to strike Cyndrithil. He slumped to the ground in defeat with Ymithia, more gracefully, following behind him.

***

Once Cyndrithil's blood calmed, he realized the mistake he had made earlier: hesitation.

In battle, he and Ymithia always knew what the other needed. Their ability to act on that knowledge made them almost unstoppable. And with Ymithia's healing magic, any wounds could be healed quickly. Yet with this recent skirmish, Cyndrithil hesitated, caught between the love of his life and his brother.

Silently, Cyndrithil nuzzled his mate in apology, the top of his head rubbing under her chin. Cyndrithil expected her to be frustrated with him, yet when he gazed into those clear, gorgeous eyes that always had his heart aflutter, he found nothing but understanding.

"Thank you," was all Cyndrithil could say. If his mate had looked at him with frustration, he would have, for the first time, doubted her; but that wasn't the case.

Her only reply was draping her wing over his back as her head rested firmly between the small fins running down his neck.

Cyndrithil looked across the small field in front of him to where his brother's frail body lay just a few strides away. The dragon named Hithay was still working over his wounds, her brows scrunched in concentration. Cyndrithil could feel Ymithia's gaze carefully watching Hithay as she worked.

He had tried so hard not to hurt Xithris, hesitant to rake his claws through his brother's life, possibly ending it with one strike too many. Yet, after realizing he could lose his mate, a power had risen up from within--something he had never felt before. It was probably the cause of his flames changing color. Even now, his mouth was slightly burnt from the raw heat of his flames, a completely foreign feeling.

In the end, he battled against Xithris, who was no match for two dragons joined by twenty years of fighting together. His wounds far outmatched theirs. Yet, Cyndrithil couldn't help feeling guilt for the wounds he had inflicted. As if sensing his thoughts, Ymithia moved, her head coming around to his.

"I know no matter what I say, you will still beat yourself up over hurting Xithris," she said. "I won't say it wasn't your fault. It won't mean much in the grand scheme of things. However, know you're not alone. And know Xithris won't blame you for what happened."

She was right, of course. It had been a habit since he was very young. Whenever he made a mistake, he'd always beat himself up over it, criticizing himself over and over until the guilt went away. Not that it ever did.

Just having Ymithia near him was a balm to his heart.

Most of Xithris's wounds had been healed. Hithay was currently working on the black burn Cyndrithil had given him.

"Ymithia, I need your help!" she called over. According to Ymithia's brief explanation, Hithay was still learning healing magic, so it wasn't too much of a surprise when she asked for help.

Cyndrithil followed closely behind Ymithia, letting her take the lead. He knew some healing magic, but only enough to treat very minor wounds, like scratches that barely broke through the scales. Ymithia could treat all sorts of wounds, even as complex as repairing Ymerc's wing back when they had first found him. She had spent many years training under Furest's wing. Cyndrithil had no doubt she would be able to heal the burn with little to no trouble at all.

Ymithia placed her paw over the burn, a slight glow appearing as she focused her mana. But when she retracted her paw, she looked frustrated and startled.

"What's wrong?" Hithay asked, her head cocked.

"It won't heal."

What does she mean it won't heal?

Hithay responded the same: "What do you mean it won't heal?"

"Exactly what I said!" Ymithia snapped.

"What's going on?" Cyndrithil asked. It wasn't like her to react so quickly.

"The stupid wound won't heal! Nothing I do works!" She hissed.

Cyndrithil knew Ymithia wasn't angry with him.

Once she blew off her anger, she understood her misplaced feelings. Still, Cyndrithil probed.

"What's really going on?" he asked.

"Creeping Death," she exhaled. "A problem none have been able to fix except our son who clearly has no idea he is even doing so. Xithris's dreams--Furest would have understood their meaning at first glance. Yet, I missed them. A now this burn won't heal!" She snarled. "All of these problems Furest could have fixed had she been given enough time, yet here I am unable to do a thing!"

Ymithia relaxed her shoulders, having finally vented the frustration boiling in her heart. Cyndrithil knew she had been comparing herself to Furest all these years. Furest far exceeded her years in knowledge. Though, once she died, he figured she would stop comparing herself and take Furest's place, taking the knowledge that Furest had given Ymithia and advancing with it.

"Stop comparing yourself to her!" Cyndrithil roared.

He couldn't take it any longer. "But Furest could have done better," Ymithia would say. "If only Furest were here." He was sick of it. The whole point of teaching the next generation is so they can take their teachings and become better than their teachers. Furest may have been the best healer the clan has ever seen, but that doesn't mean another dragon can't rise above her station and become better for the sake of others.

"All these years you have been comparing yourself to Furest, selling yourself short as if you were nothing more than a rock on the side of a mountain--"

"But," she tried to interrupt. Cyndrithil wouldn't let her. He had to get this off his chest, for her sake and his.

"Furest taught everyone she could so they may take that knowledge and become better than her. She was never in it for the glory. She only ever wanted to help others. That's what made her so great in the eyes of the clan. Even if she was alive, she may never have figured out how to heal the Creeping Death. Even if she were here--alive--right this second, there is no guarantee that she would be able to heal that burn." Cyndrithil pointed at Xithris's blackened scales.

"I hate seeing you compare yourself to someone who is dead," he continued. "Hurting yourself over something that you can change. Stop comparing yourself to her! Instead, put that energy into finding answers. No one will ever be as great as Furest. Do you know why?" he asked Ymithia, not bothering to give her a chance to reply.

"Because she was Furest, and you are you. Forge your own path through life. Stop worrying about others when your life, your mate, and your friends are right here to walk with you through it all. When you can't bear the weight for another second, let us take on that weight for you. When you are at your wits' end, let us help you find the answers. As a clan, we were never meant to take on our problems alone. We will fail if we do. If we stand as one, shouldering each other's burdens, covering for others weak spots, no one and nothing can hurt us. You have all the dragons in Dravawynn to help you. So, for once in your life, stop comparing yourself to others, because you are perfect just the way you are."

Cyndrithil nuzzled his mate after the last words, wrapping his tail around her own, letting Ymithia know that, no matter what, he would always be there for her.

"Thank you," she whispered, voice trembling. "I really needed to hear that."

It pained Cyndrithil for so long to see Ymithia comparing herself to Furest. Hopefully now, that would change.

Two dragons touched down behind them. They looked at each other, trying to figure out if they should say something or wait until one of them noticed them. Cyndrithil had heard their wing beats a short while ago. These must have been the dragons they were waiting for.

"Now, shall we go save our son?"

Ymithia nodded, her body already moving closer to the new arrivals.

"Hithay, get some others to help you take Xithris to the healer's mountain. Afterwards, visit the library. See what you can dig up on incurable wounds."

Cyndrithil told one of the new dragons to stay and help Hithay with whatever she needed, while the other guided us to where hopefully Ymerc waited.

The flight was shorter than expected, yet felt longer than it was. Cyndrithil's heart beat wildly during the flight as his imagination towards what Anirin had done to Ymerc went wild.

He had heard tales of torture in the past, and while Cyndrithil would never do such a thing himself, he found the tales horrific, wondering how another creature could inflict pain on another. Torture was something only those who had sold their souls to the darkness could do.

A small waterfall eventually came into view. When the dragon guiding them flew into it, he realized there was a cave behind it.

How many times have I flown right by this place?

Cyndrithil felt the icy water wash over his scales in a chilling burst before he was through and on the other side.

"We followed Anirin to this cave where he stayed for a short while before departing. There were originally three of us but one fell. The life was leeched from him when Anirin teleported away." His voice dropped. "If it is all the same to you, I will be taking my leave to recover his body."

Cyndrithil nodded his head. The high cost of teleportation. It completely saps the life of any creature the user wants, either the nearest life source or a target. The distance one can move depends on how long that creature has lived. The younger the life, the farther one can move through space. That fact alone is why teleportation magic is forbidden: it comes at too precious of a cost. All of the creature's life must be used or the risk of the spell not working or somehow backfiring.

The fact Anirin used it so easily is a sign he had been a practitioner of dark magic for many years, and all under their noses. Cyndrithil would never forgive himself for not recognizing it sooner.

Further inside, a dragon Cyndrithil had barely met, lay comatose. His name: Marst, an elder of the clan.

"Ymithia."

"On it," came her response. The shadows in the cave seemed to wave and shrink away from Ymithia as she healed any wounds she found--another sign this place had been steeped in dark magic. Even so, the scent of death was nowhere to be found. Only that of the falling water behind them, which kept this place perfectly concealed.

Marst moaned before opening his eyes.

"Anirin!" he roared in warning. His eyes dilated beyond anything Cyndrithil had seen. The white of his eyes turned almost black from the fear as he trembled uncontrollably. Even his wings shook like branches in a storm.

"We know," she hushed. "Relax. You have been through a lot."

Ymithia's words seemed to console him, or perhaps it was Ymithia using magic to put him to sleep for a while. Whatever Anirin had done or forced Marst to do had taken its toll on the old dragon who was already getting weak with age in both the mind and body. Cyndrithil headed to the opening where he unleashed a flare that shot through the water and into the sky, calling for a dragon to bring another to the healer's mountain.

When Cyndrithil returned, Ymithia had done all she could for Marst. While he lay sleeping, Cyndrithil and his mate headed deeper into the hideout, following the growing stench of decay permeating the air, soaking the ground. Torches fought to keep the darkness at bay, but the shadows crawling along the cave seemed to snuff out the light.

The path they walked on widened into a small room, strange devices covered in old blood stains lay strewn about, half broken or covered in rust. Near the back of the room, a small dragon lay covered in chains, two paws hanging in unnatural angles while one of his wings looked broken. A small puncture wound leaked blood from his belly.

"Ymerc!'' Both parents screamed as they ran towards him, Ymithia already readying her magic. Though his paws and wing would have to be set before any magic could take effect, right now, her main concern seemed to be the puncture wound in Ymerc's stomach.

With the help of magic, Ymithia knit the wound shut.

"Ymerc? Are you okay?"

Cyndrithil gently prodded him awake. Ymerc's eyes glossed over before focusing on Cyndrithil.

***

Britosa's words still echoed as I woke. Before me, stood my dad prodding me awake. While I had expected to see Draconus, I saw Cyndrithil, one of the two dragons I had truly come to love and who loved me back with all their heart. He and Ymithia had been with me since the start of my journey in Dravawynn, taking care of me and so much more. I truly believed they deserved to be called my mom and dad. Beside him, Ymithia stood, using magic to heal the wound in my belly.

"Dad!" I roared, forgetting about my wound and broken paws. I jumped up, using my hind paws and ran to him rubbing my neck and side along his arm. I wasn't about to forget my mother. I ran over to Ymithia. Forever more, they would be my parents. I didn't fully understand what that meant till now.

I didn't give a moment's rest before running over to Ymithia, calling her mom for the first time as I nuzzled her arm. Their look of surprise and pride would forever be etched in my memories.

As I rubbed along Mom's arm, I remembered Anirin had broken my paws, yet here they were just fine.

_How was that possible?_I wondered as I flexed and rotated one of my paws.

"I healed you, just as I have done in the past. A broken bone is trivial compared to my knowledge.'' Looking to the side I saw Britosa, her form much smaller than in my dream. Now, she was about a head taller than me. Part of me hoped it was all a dream.

I should have realized that hope was in vain.

"Never stop hoping. Never let that be taken from you," she said, her voice stern and cold just like in the dream.

"I never said I would." I bit back, forgetting no one could hear or see Britosa except me.

"Ymerc?" Mother questioned. She tilted her head.

I felt blood rush to my cheeks as my heart pounded erratically.

Thankfully, Cyndrithil came to my rescue, wrapping his wings around both mother and me, forcing her to forget what I just said. In the future, I would have to be more careful.

From now on, I would do whatever Britosa wanted, as long as my parents stayed safe. Arlya sacrificed herself to save me. I owe it to her to keep her safe even if she is in the afterlife. Britosa said she was in a place called Qoneara. I assumed it was like the stories of the afterlife my old mother told me about.

_My old mother? _

I couldn't remember anything about her. It was as if all the memories of her faded away. I couldn't even recall the color of her scales, let alone the good and the bad. I know she tortured me. The knowledge of the things she did teach me were there, but she also took care of me. Yet, the memories of Draconus were still there, and looking through them I realized I had never called him father the way I called his mate mother.

Pain assaulted my head, a throbbing crescendo growing worse the more I tried to focus on those memories--trying to figure out why I no longer remembered Draconus's mate. Pain racked my senses in ever strengthening waves. I had to figure it out. Without those memories, I felt like I had no reason to get revenge on the dragoness I once called mother. Still, the fury towards Draconus only blazed hotter.

"Ymerc, stop. Listen to my voice. Calm yourself. Those memories were fake. Even the good ones were cast with magic. Forget about trying to remember them. It will only bring you pain," Britosa said, her words pulling me away. As I let those memories fade away into the void, the pain receded.

My parents had no idea what had just transpired, still locked in a tight embrace. I suppose that was for the best. I wasn't quite sure how to explain to them what happened, and I was still deciding if I should explain to them my new friend over there: Britosa.

I shot her a pointed look. Her only response was the narrowing of her eyes.

If I told them I could see and talk to Britosa, the dragon of legend, they would most likely look at me as if I were crazy, or like I was talking about an imaginary friend like the one I had years ago: a white dragon covered in a thick layer of white fur. I had called her Fira.

I brushed those memories away, realizing there was no point to them. I desperately wanted to explain my new partnership with Britosa, but for now, I would keep quiet.

A snap echoed through the small cave, a yelp escaping my jaws as the broken bone in my wing settled back into place.

Dad stepped back, worry written all over his face. Ymithia bent her neck, her eyes examining my newly healed wing and paws. While she looked curious about it, she didn't ask any questions, which I found to be a relief. I stepped back from between Mother and Father. Ymithia angled her head down and examined me.

Finally, after deciding nothing else was wrong, she turned to leave.

"Come on. Let's get out of here. This place gives me the creeps."

I noticed different objects covered in rust or old stains that looked a lot like blood. I didn't blame her. I wanted to get out of here too and not just because of the strange objects.

I followed my parents to the exit where water poured down from above in an endless cascade before watching them fly through the falling water and into open air. I was hesitant to join them. I was afraid the water would weigh my wings down and cause me to plummet towards the ground, but I didn't want my parents to wait for me. Pushing aside my fear and the what-ifs, I leapt through the water expanding my wings and letting the wind catch them on the other side. Water poured off my belly only to disappear down below.

It felt like it had been ages since I last flew, the sensation of wind catching my wings racing along my body as I hovered in the air relishing in the feeling of freedom.

Mother, having seen me come through the water, started flying in what I assumed was home, a place I had been only once. Yet, just like how I had decided to call Ymithia and Cyndrithil my parents, this place was already turning into my home. I was excited to get back and feel that soft moss on my scales--excited to see the other hatchlings again.

Though that excitement was overcome by Britosa's words.

"Go to Dravellian." She appeared beside me. Her body was large enough to cast me in shadows, yet the sun burned right through her, another testimony to the fact she was only here in spirit.

"What's Dravellian?" I whispered, not wanting my parents to overhear me.

"No need to whisper. I can read your thoughts just fine. This way you won't have to fear others hearing a one-sided conversation."

I suppose that was a relief. I would still have to be careful of my reactions though.

"For this next part, I suggest telling your parents I am here. Otherwise, they will not understand."

Next part? And if I told my parents they would likely just look at me as if I was crazy! And who knows? Maybe I am! Maybe you're just my imagination.

Britosa hovered. I kept expecting to feel the air from her powerful wingbeats, yet I felt nothing coming from her.

"You know that's not true; I am as real as your parents over there," she pointed an extended claw ahead. "When we get to the den, tell your parents to take you east to the clan called Dravellian."

I expected her to continue with the evidence as to why she was real. Instead, she completely changed the conversation, focused on getting me to this place called Dravellian.

I had no choice in the matter. If I didn't, I would not only fail Arlya, but fail my parents too. And if what Britosa said was true, that would lead to their death. I didn't want that.

Still, there came the problem of explaining why I wanted to go there and how I knew the name of a place, but not what or where it is except for "east"

As we flew, I saw other dragons: a family of four. Two adults and two dragons that seemed younger than me. They were going traveling just like we were. That realization startled me. It made me realize life here was so much different compared to living with Draconus.

I waited till we landed outside the den and entered before I confronted my parents.

"Mom? Dad?" I asked, getting their attention as I trailed off.

"What is it, Ymerc?" Dad asked, turning around to face me along with Ymithia.

From the way they slumped on the ground they looked exhausted. I wondered why, considering it was only late afternoon.

I felt their eyes rest on me as they waited for my response. I felt my blood surge to my cheeks as butterflies settled in my belly.

It hit me then. Instead of explaining I could see and hear Britosa, why not say I had dreamt of her telling me to go east? It was technically true that I had dreamed of her, so it wasn't downright lying.

"While I was chained, I had a dream of a red and white dragon telling me to go to a place called Dravellian." Since they told me a little bit of Britosa, I assumed they would know who I was talking about...hopefully.

Their eyes went wide in realization. They turned to look at each other, seeming to have a silent conversation before turning back to me.

"Are you sure about that?" Mother said, her brows crinkling.

"Tell them! you must leave tonight." Britosa cut in.

"What?" I remarked, turning my head slightly to look at her. At my exclamation, they looked at me with questioning gazes, concern set in their eyes.

Embarrassed beyond belief, I responded, trying to keep the shaking in my voice as little as possible.

"Yes, it was a red scaled dragon with a white belly. She said I needed to go to a place called Dravellian to the east and get there as soon as possible." I put extra emphasis on the last few words, trying to get my point across that we had to leave tonight.

"You are sure it was a red dragon?" Dad asked, lowering his snout to my level.

"Yes." Mainly because said dragon was standing right next to me.

"Regardless, it was a dream. Nothing more. After what you have been through, we aren't allowing you out of our sight," Mother cut in, "let alone letting you leave the clan." Her voice leaving no room for arguing.

"Stupid dragons. Don't you have any idea what's at stake?" I heard Britosa mumble under her breath.

"And that means you aren't leaving Dravawynn," Mother said, moving in closer and locking eyes with me.

I had no room to argue. I feared being yelled at or worse if I did.

There were several emotions in Dad's eyes I couldn't quite identify. Concern? Agreement?

Seeing she had won, Mother backed away before sliding down on her belly on the moss, curling her neck around her side and shutting her eyes.

Father waited a moment, looking between both of us before prompting me to join him as he slid next to her, wrapping his wing around Ymithia.

I started going towards them, my claws clicking echoed off the den walls.

"As soon as they're asleep, head outside. There is much to do." Britosa spoke, stopping me in my tracks. I looked at her, concerned.

You aren't going to make me go against their wishes, are you?

"No, nothing of the sort," she assured. "While I think their choice is an emotional one, it is one I can respect. I won't ask you to go against your parent's decision."

Looking back, I thought I saw Dad's eyes looking at me for a split second, but realized I must have been more tired than usual slumping down between them. A second later, Dad draped his paw over my back, as if he were saying "You aren't going anywhere."

How do I get out of this without waking him up? I asked her.

"Do your best. Tonight, you learn to use magic."

_Magic?!_I shot up, looking Britosa dead in the eye as hope and excitement surged.

"While you now have the knowledge to use magic, you don't have the ability. While your parents would normally teach you magic, their ways would be far too slow. I am going to put you through a crash course. Prepare yourself. I will be outside when you are ready."

She strode outside before disappearing in the nearby forest.

Looking at my parents again, I thought I saw Dad looking at me again, but chalked it up to my imagination. It would be really embarrassing if he saw me shoot up like that for no reason. Quietly, I rested my head, listening for the sounds of my parents breathing to even out.

It took longer for them to fall asleep then I had liked. While Mother had fallen asleep almost immediately, Father took what seemed like forever, the sun having set by the time he did. I slowly pried Dad's paw off my body using my wings to lift and pass his paw to my front where I slowly set it down all while making sure I didn't wake him.

Slowly, I crept from the den and into the forest. Britosa stood a way in under a small ray of moonlight, her head lifted up to it as if she could soak its light up. Without looking in the direction of my approach, she began her lesson.

"Every living creature has something called Mana, though few can actually use it like us dragons. Before you can learn to use magic, you must be able to feel the mana inside you and know your limits. All magic comes with a price, and you must pay in full. Overuse your mana and it will cost you your life."

Sounded simple enough. As long as I knew what my limits were, I wouldn't have any fear.

That just posed one simple problem: what were my limits?

"Normally, your parents would do this; but I doubt they were going to teach you magic any time soon seeing how they reacted earlier even if I had asked them myself to do so."

"Do what?" I asked, as she approached.

"Hold out your paw. There are few ways a creature can get a sense for mana. One of them is by having someone who can already feel it guide the other, which is what I am about to do."

Her paw gently overlapped mine, though I felt nothing except the wind blowing by.

After a moment, a cool sensation rushed through my paw much like how a smooth river rushes down the rapids.

The cool sensation reached my elbow before stopping and pulling back towards Britosa.

"That's mana?" I asked, genuinely startled. The cool sense of power radiated through my arm.

"That is my mana. Just how every dragon has a specific ability gifted to them, they also have their own type of mana. Think of it like a soul. Each soul being different based upon their life's experiences and situations. The same goes for mana."

When she mentioned that each dragon had a specific ability, it brought me back to Draconus and his gift of illusions or being able to create memories, it also made me wonder what mine was.

"Britosa, you said each dragon has their own unique strength, what is mine?" Perhaps it would help me get my revenge on Draconus even sooner, though I still had to contend with Britosa's orders.

"Until one unlocks their inherent strength, it is impossible to tell. Even for me."

I see. So no matter what, I wouldn't know what my power was until it made itself known.

What idiot thought that up?

"Britosa, how does one exactly go about finding their 'ability,' as you put it?"

"There are many ways for one to go about finding their power, growing up is amongst the most common, other times it takes extreme situations, like combat to find one's power. In the rarest circumstances, one needs a mating bond in order for their potential to come forth."

It sounded like there were a few ways to do that: one that took time, the other which I doubt was the case considering all that had happened. And the third, which was something called a mating bond?

"Britosa, what exactly is a mating bond?"

"I will stop you there," came a deep voice. Father stepped out of the shadows. "While I can tolerate the first of dragons teaching my son about magic, I won't go having his mind filled with things he is much too young to learn."

"I wondered when you would show," Britosa said, though I knew she was saying it more to herself than to Dad.

"What are you doing here dad?" I asked, trying to play this whole thing off and not wanting to sound crazy, which it would be all too late depending on how long he had been standing there.

I silently cursed my nose and hearing again. I should have sensed him ages ago, at least heard him. Yet, he was as silent as an ant.

"It's much too late for that, Ymerc," he said, finally drawing his eyes to me. "I have been here since the start. I knew something was weird when you mentioned Britosa earlier, and the odd outbursts had me curious. While it has been several generations since Britosa has influenced the dragon clans, it wasn't entirely impossible for her to start again. When you snuck out even after your mother said you weren't going anywhere, I knew something was up, so I followed. I am assuming she is here now?" Dad asked, looking around the forest as if she was just going to appear.

I gave up. He knew, though it was a relief that he wasn't looking at me as if I had lost my mind. And now that he knew, without me having to say anything, a weight had lifted from my shoulders. one I hadn't even realized was there till now.

"She is right here," I said, pointing my claw to my right. His eyes followed my claw before coming back to me.

"Where?"

I should have expected his question since I was the only one who could see and hear Britosa, but it still came as a surprise.

"Right next to me." Though, how I was going to tell Dad about the whole thing was still beyond me. And of course, Britosa chose to stay silent during this whole interaction.

_Anything you want to add?_I asked Britosa. I was learning, when she stayed silent, I was on my own.

"Ri-right. I am assuming that she has been here since we flew home earlier?"

"Yes" was all I managed to get out before Britosa finally cut in, much to my relief.

"Tell him if he knows I am here, then he must understand why you must go east to Dravellian."

What is so important about Dravellian? She remained silent.

I relayed to Dad what Britosa said to me. While he seemed unhappy about her request, he nodded his head in understanding.

"Britosa, while I may not be able to talk with you directly, know that it is typically a bad idea for anyone other than a hatchling's parents to teach their children magic, even if she is the first dragon."

"I'm not the first dragon" she mumbled so quietly I thought I was hearing things.

"However, I will overlook this, since you have appeared after several hundred years, I am assuming that tumultuous times are ahead? And if they are, I can see no better teacher than the dragon who defeated darkness to teach my son magic even if he is a little young."

What did he mean by that? A little young? I am perfectly old enough to learn magic.

"Normally, a dragon doesn't learn magic until he or she turns fifteen years old. Now, tell your father that bad times are indeed ahead."

I relayed her message. Dad's eyes went wide as saucers when he heard that. He whispered something under his breath that I couldn't make out, before I could ask what he said, he turned his eyes in the vicinity of Britosa.

"For whatever reason you have chosen my son as your messenger, while that is a high honor amongst dragons, know that if you teach my son anything without me and my mate's permission, or let him get hurt in any way, not even the darkness itself will hold me back from chasing you down in Qoneara and killing you."

Britosa snorted, a small plume of smoke rising from her nostrils. A fire lit in her eyes.

"I would like to see you try. Ymerc, pass this on to him: I have no intention of letting your son get hurt, if he were to die, it would prove disastrous in this realm and mine."

_Wait when did I become a messenger? _

"Just do it," spoke Britosa, with no room to argue.

"I am not your messenger,'' I roared. But having no other way to get her words across to dad I realized I was exactly that. Finally, I relayed what she said to Cyndrithil.

He seemed content with that after nodding his head. "Well then, for whatever reason you want Ymerc to head to Dravellian. I want to know for what reason, and I want to know what dangers exist there."

I looked at Britosa, waiting for her response so I could relay to Dad. She closed her eyes for a moment as if she were listening to something only she could hear before turning to me. I hated talking for her, but I suppose I had no choice.

Hanging my head, I sighed, giving in once again to my circumstances which I couldn't control.

"Ymerc must go to Dravellian. I am not allowed to say why, but his chances of success increase if you go with him. As for the dangers, there is only one danger in that clan: a dragon who lives amongst them so steeped in dark magic that his soul is nearly entirely gone. If all goes well, Anirin will be there too. So, while the dangers exist, it is nothing Ymerc can't handle, especially if I and his parents are there."

I relayed what she said word-for-word. I really hated this. I wrapped my tail around a plant and used my frustration to pull it from the dirt. It took all of my strength, its roots deep in the soil.

Dad snorted a puff of smoke out his nose. "I will leave you to teach my son magic for now. In the meantime, I must convince my mate to go to Dravellian. I will be back later."

He strode away. Meanwhile, Britosa had an arrogant smile on her face as if she knew this would happen. I wanted to smack it right off after forcing me to talk for her. I knew I couldn't actually touch her.

Britosa turned back to me, her movement drawing my attention.

"We have much to go over before he comes back, shall we begin?"