Oh, the comfort of silence, of predictability. A state where there was no need to move, to react, to understand. It was easy to grow addicted to it. Perhaps that was why he was so irritated: the discomfort had gone unprocessed. His snout throbbed, the ache sharpening into persistent, needling pangs that grew harder to ignore.

  When he finally surrendered his groove, awareness crept back into his body. Two indigo, draconic eyes snapped open. A heartbeat later, he noticed the tail, the true culprit of his misery. The little dragon wasn’t surprised to recognize its owner, though he couldn’t fathom what had possessed his uncharacteristically intrusive sister to disturb his cozy sleep.

  Above them, the forest canopy swallowed what little light remained. Moonbeams fractured through overlapping leaves, painting the ground in shifting slivers of silver and ink. Fireflies drifted lazily between trunks, their brief glows pulsing like distant thoughts, while the air cooled just enough to cling to Sylth’s scales.

  “You’re up. Good. There’s a problem.” Her presence pulsed the message repeatedly, enough times for even a groggy Sylth to grasp it. He wobbled into an unsteady upright stance, indigo eyes narrowing as he stared back at his sister.

  Although every part of the forest they knew tended to blur into the same patterns of bark and shadow, Sylth immediately sensed what was wrong. Familiar presences were missing. No. All of them were.

  He recoiled at the realization, stunned that he had managed to sleep through something so wrong. The steady, familiar waves he had grown so accustomed to were gone. It was as if one of his most reliable senses had been abruptly blinded. If not for his sister, whose presence still burned steadily. There would have been nothing at all.

  “Why is everything so… silent?” Sylth emanated back. Panic bled easily through the message, unfiltered and raw. Even as his other senses caught the gentle rustling of leaves and the soft sway of branches, the forest felt hollow. Empty in a way sound could not explain.

  “I think we’re lost, Sylth. It was probably that light.” She added with a faint unease, and at her words, fragments of memory began to resurface. Threads of radiance slicing through the dark, unfamiliar sounds echoing too close, and an overwhelming pull to rest, heavy and unnatural.

  Sylth latched onto none of it.

  “Where is dad?” The question cut through the haze, sharp and immediate. Searching instinctively, reaching outward for that familiar, anchoring presence he had only just begun to rely on. There was nothing. Nothing to stop his breath from hitching, nothing to keep his heart from accelerating into a frantic, uneven rhythm.

  Iono scanned the surroundings, her awareness flaring outward before settling on an answer. “I can’t feel any dragons anywhere. I think we’re too deep in the forest, Sylth.” She spoke while pacing around in wide circles. Sylth followed without thinking, unwilling to let his last anchor drift too far from him.

  After a pause, her waves stirred again. “This forest is full of prey, though.” The words pulsed outward just as Sylth’s senses caught onto something familiar in the distance. A blue kobold, calm and busy hoarding scraps and trinkets. The sight steadied him. His heart slowed, just a little. If lesser creatures still went about their routines, then surely the world hadn’t ended.

  Drawn by curiosity, the two dragons approached in silence, observing the kobold from a closer distance. Each carried different thoughts, shaped further by Iono’s next comment. “The kobold has been playing with sticks for a while now. It’s probably broken. The elder said to eat things before they go bad.” She stated it plainly. Due to the way dragon language worked, her words lingered as a constant echo in Sylth’s senses, meanings he found deeply unsettling.

  He was about to flare a sharp response when the log the kobold had been fiddling with suddenly caught fire.

  Both dragons perked up, genuinely surprised. They hadn’t known kobolds were capable of anything like that. Firelight spilled across the dim woods, chasing shadows away and mingling with drifting fireflies, bathing the forest in a strangely gentle, almost comforting glow.

  The two hatchlings found themselves drawn to the heat, lingering close as the fire crawled along the length of the log. Warmth seeped pleasantly into their scales, easing the stiffness of lingering fear. Fire was familiar. Fire was theirs.

  Still, comfort refused to fully settle.

  Without the steady gravity of other dragons nearby, the warmth felt incomplete. A quiet, ever-present warning pulsed in the back of their minds, an instinct etched deep, yearning for a strong protector. While Sylth’s gaze kept drifting through the forest, he was urged to hunt the uncharacteristic abundant amout of prey nearby.

  This urge came with a realization. He always had the patient presence of larger dragons, their watchful eyes and protective natures, as a safety net. Without them, even simple acts like hunting suddenly felt like risky endeavors.

  The little hatchling finally spoke. “We have to find the others, Iono. We’re too small.” Sylth hated how vulnerable he sounded, but the unknown pressing in around them felt far less wondrous without that distant, steady reassurance. His tail lashed behind him, a restless motion meant to mask the sharp twinge of fear coiling in his chest.

  “No, little Sylth. You are small.” The teasing retort came easily before Iono settled before the fire. Her tail and left wing draped around him in a loose, possessive shield.

  “Fortunately, you have me. The undefeated champion of Quartz and Volcano race, here to protect you.”

  Sylth answered with the barest hint of an eye roll, but the warmth of her presence grounded him. The tightness in his chest eased, just enough. The fire crackled before them, sparks drifting upward like brief, fading stars. It was during that fragile calm that they noticed movement at the edge of the light.

  The kobold approached cautiously, clutching several sticks wrapped in char and ash. Bits of plump, edible-looking meat clung to them, darkened and blistered from long exposure to the fire. The wingless creature hesitated, then extended the offerings toward the dragons with both hands.

  Sylth leaned forward and sniffed. The scent settled the question immediately, it was undeniably food. But small. Too small to satisfy the gnawing emptiness coiled in his gut.

  This, didn’t bother Iono. She snapped them up in a single bite. Sticks, meat, and all vanished between her jaws. Sylth stared, wide-eyed, as she swallowed and licked her muzzle with visible satisfaction. While the kobold froze, then relaxed when nothing terrible happened. It chirred softly, clearly pleased.

  “More. Go get bigger things.” Iono issued the command immediately, the lingering emptiness in her belly making the words sharp and impatient. The kobold did not respond. It simply turned back to its scattered trinkets, resuming its quiet sorting as if no command had been given at all.

  A short huff escaped Iono’s nostrils, a faint curl of heat shimmering in the air. “And here I thought this one was intelligent,” she remarked to Sylth.

  The smaller dragon shook his head, then let out a low, tentative growl. The sound rippled through the clearing. The kobold paused. His eyes flicked toward them. After a moment’s inspection, it returned to its work.

  Sylth frowned and tried again, growling a little louder. The kobold glanced back once more. “He responds to growls,” Sylth concluded, after testing the pattern a few times.

  Iono shot him a skeptical look before turning her attention back to the small creature. “I think it’s mana-blind,” she finally said.

  Sylth stilled, his gaze snapping to her. “Mana… what now?”

  The word was unfamiliar, but paired with blind it could only be related to senses. Dragons communicated through intent, through presence, through the natural flow that threaded everything together. They always had. Or so he had thought.

  Iono blinked, then stared at him. “You don’t know what mana is?”

  “Mana,” she said, as if the word alone should have been enough.

  When Sylth only stared back, she flicked her tail in irritation and pushed on. “It’s this.” Her presence surged, pressing against him more firmly now. The waves of her awareness rolled outward, insistent, waiting for recognition. “What we’re using right now. How we know where everyone is. How we know when something’s wrong. It’s how the elders can glare at you from the other side of the valley without ever being there.”

  The explanations pulsed through him again and again, each iteration bringing fragments of memories, of sensations.

  Sylth’s head dipped in a slow nod as the pieces settled. “So that’s the name of it,” he murmured, the word tasting strange but right. “Mana.”

  The thought barely had time to root before something tugged at his awareness.

  Prey. A group of them.

  That alone was enough to draw both hatchlings’ attention. Iono perked up immediately, hunger sharpening in her mana, tail lashing once against the leaf-littered ground. Sylth stayed still, eyes narrowing as he focused his mind.

  “They’re coming toward us,” he sent quietly.

  Iono dismissed the concern with a careless flick of her mana. “It’s food, Sylth.”

  Still, unease crept along his spine. Prey fled. It scattered. Most prey scattered the moment they brushed against draconic mana, instincts screaming danger long before eyes ever confirmed it.

  They both rose, turning toward the direction of the approaching signals. Dense foliage swallowed the view, branches and leaves layered too thickly to see through, but the presences continued to close the distance all the same.

  They moved anyway, angling toward the source of the approaching presences. The undergrowth thickened as they advanced, leaves and branches overlapping until sight became useless, yet the signals kept drawing closer. The presences didn’t flutter or recoil. They marched. Straight toward the fire. Toward them.

  Iono slowed. Not fully. Just enough for doubt to slip through her hunger. She pushed aside a curtain of leaves and finally saw them.

  Small figures emerged between the trunks, upright and bipedal, their forms wrapped in crude layers of hide, bark, and fiber. Some carried sticks, gripped loosely in either hands. Others walked empty-pawed. They moved as one, trudging forward in a loose cluster, never breaking stride, never glancing aside. They looked harmless at a glance, almost pitiful. It was impossible not to compare them to kobolds. Kobolds fidgeted though. they hesitated and noticed dragons.

  Sylth took an instinctive step forward, curiosity outweighing caution. “Are they kobolds?” he sent uncertainly. “They look taller.”

  Her tail snapped around Sylth’s foreleg, yanking him back just as her wings spread slightly, a reflexive shield. “No,” she replied, the word carrying more force than any mana she’d ever flared before. “Don’t go closer.”

  Sylth startled, more from her tone than the restraint. “What?”

  “I’ve heard of these,” she cut in, eyes fixed on the approaching figures. The hunger in her presence vanished, replaced by a taut, coiled concern. “Small. No scales, no fur. Wrapped in hides, always carrying tools. I only know them from stories.”

  Her tail tightened around Sylth’s leg.

  “Even this small, they challenge dragons. They steal hoards. They take eggs. Dragons have died trying to deal with them.”

  “That’s a lie,” Sylth sent weakly. “They don’t even have claws.”

  “True,” Iono replied. “They don’t need them.”

  The figures continued their approach, unhurried. The firelight reached them, all seven of them looked fragile. Iono stepped forward, placing herself between Sylth and the distant figures, wings lifting just enough to cast a shadow over him. “They’re no match for me,” she said, the words shaped for reassurance, yet the mana behind them wavered.

  Her tail twitched as she loosened her hold on Sylth. “If they dare touch you,” she added, sharper now, “they’ll regret it.”

  Something in the light, or perhaps in Iono’s flare, had given them pause. A few lowered themselves closer to the ground. Others adjusted their grips on the sticks they carried. Unease flickered through their mana at last, thin and fleeting.

  One stepped forward. It raised its stick and pointed.

  The surge that followed wasn’t a message. If it was meant to be, it was far too dense, layered with structure the hatchlings couldn’t unravel. reminiscent of a scold from an elder, only less insistent, vanishing before either dragon could properly comprehend it.

  Silence followed. Then the stick tilted, angling down toward the hatchlings. Every one of the creatures’ gazes tracked with the motion. Their attention locked, collective and unsettlingly focused, as if the pointing itself had finalized a decision.

  It wasn’t long after that that the figures began to advance.

  Their steps matched their mana: cautious, uneven, threaded with hesitation and wariness. The two dragons were so focused on the approaching presences that they barely registered the kobold slipping in beside Sylth, its posture mirroring his curiosity, its gaze fixed on the strangers.

  The moment the figures truly saw the hatchlings, their mana spiked.

  Surprise rippled through them, sharp and unmasked. One reacted instantly, hostility flaring the second its eyes settled on Iono. She answered with a snarl, stepping forward and shoving Sylth behind her, the motion leaving no room for interpretation. He would not be touched.

  The creatures made noises then. They had been vocal before, but quietly, background sounds easy to ignore. This was louder, without a doubt. Enough that even the kobold startled, head snapping up in alarm.

  “What do you think they’re growling for?” Sylth asked, his mana trembling, tight with uncertainty.

  “Could be intimidation,” Iono replied. Her mana carried an edge now, fear bleeding through despite her effort to suppress it. “I’ll answer in kind.” She lifted her head, jaws spreading wide in a feral display, chest swelling as heat rolled up her throat.

  Her roar tore through the clearing.

  Their hostility spiked instantly. Fear and anger rippled through the figures’ mana in equal measure. Several raised their shiny, pointed sticks higher, knuckles whitening as their grips tightened. One of them, the farthest back, smaller and scruffier than the rest. Collapsed to its knees, panic flooding outward in wild, incoherent bursts. Iono registered it and dismissed him just as quickly. Weak. Not a threat.

  This should have been the moment everything broke. A long, uncertain battle felt inevitable, instead, a growl cut through the tension. Low. Rough. Kobold.

  The sound was small compared to Iono’s roar, but the figures hesitated. Their mana wavered, the sharp edges of fear and anger softening, then thinning. Hostility ebbed, pulled apart by something neither hatchling fully understood. The kobold had stepped forward. It growled again, this time longer, layered with odd clicks and trills. The figures answered with their own noises.

  Sylth blinked. “Are they… talking?” he sent, disbelief bleeding through the question.

  “Yeah, probably,” Iono replied, eyes narrowing. Her wings remained half-spread, but she hadn’t advanced.

  The figures shifted, no longer advancing. One lowered its stick. Another followed. Even the one still on its knees began to steady, its panic dulling into something closer to shame. The kobold gestured with one clawed hand, toward the fire, toward the hatchlings, then back to itself. The exchange continued, noisy and awkward, but no longer hostile.

  Iono’s tail flicked once, restrained. “Sylth,” she sent quietly, never taking her eyes off them, “I think we can teach them tricks, if we learn their little sounds.”

  His heartbeat stuttered at the idea, excitement bleeding into his mana. “You think so?”

  Her old confidence surfaced. “They might be useful,” she said. “If nothing else.” Then, after a beat: “If it doesn’t work, we can always eat them.”

  It was the kobold who decided what came next. With a sharp chirr and a tug at Sylth’s foreleg, it motioned toward the trees. The figures began to move, threading their way between trunks, glancing back expectantly.

  The hatchlings exchanged a look.

  They weren’t attached to the clearing. And something in Sylth’s chest stirred at the thought of not losing these strange, noisy little creatures. So together, they followed.

  Though no true communication existed between the hatchlings and the newcomers, their emotions were impossible to miss. Feelings flared off them in bright, unshielded bursts. Fear, curiosity, tension, blazing so loudly in mana that it almost felt like shouting. While understanding wasn't possible, the dragons recognized patterns. The mana around the creatures shifted in ways the hatchlings knew well. With the subtle relief of approaching shelter, of nearing a place claimed and defended. They were going home. To cover. To safety.

  At least, that was how the hatchlings interpreted the steady rise of comfort threading through the creatures’ presence.

  Their guess proved correct. The trees thinned into a rough clearing where crude shelters crouched beneath the canopy. Branches and hides were woven into uneven structures, each stuffed with an assortment of strange, hoarded objects. The air carried the scents of sweat and woodsmoke, familiar in element, foreign in origin.

  The figures grew possessive as soon as the hatchlings began to nose through scattered scraps, ushering them away with sharp sounds and firm gestures. Yet the tension did not escalate. After a brief flurry of movement, one returned with meat sliced cleanly from bone. Others brought thick slabs of flat, leathery bread. Iono pounced on the offering without hesitation, devouring it with open satisfaction. While Sylth ate more slowly, his gaze lingering on the upright creatures before him.

  “What should we call them?” he sent quietly.

  “They differ from the stories I heard,” Iono replied, her mana fluctuating, almost thoughtful. “They are tamer. Weaker.” She swallowed the last of the meat and flicked her tail, pointing at them. “But we can still call them humans.”

  It happened in the middle of one of their quiet exchanges. A sudden weight pressed against Sylth’s back. His entire body locked. While small, clawless hands seized the base of his neck, fingers fumbling between the ridges of his scales. Something warm and unscaled scrambled upward with stubborn determination. A knee bumped his shoulder. Rough fabric dragged across his wings.

  Sylth’s mana flared in sharp, startled confusion. “Iono,” he sent urgently, lowering his neck in stiff disbelief. “Look.” He twisted his head as far as he could, catching sight of the scrunniest human clinging to him with fierce concentration. “This human is touching me.”

  Iono swallowed the last of her food and turned, entirely unhurried. She observed the scene with open curiosity. “It’s the smallest,” she decided after a moment. “I can give you that one. Since it seems attached, you may name it.”

  Before he could respond, Iono’s eyes shifted to her side. Another human was edging closer to her flank, moving with exaggerated care. Slow steps, shallow breaths, hands half-raised. Its mana trembled with nervous resolve. “I’ve never seen such tame wild creatures,” she remarked, watching as the human reached cautiously toward her wing.

  Sylth noticed the human perched along his back fumbling with something at its waist. A strip of meat was lifted carefully toward his snout. He saw no reason to refuse. He leaned to it, teeth opening just enough to pluck the offering from the creature’s trembling fingers. The human made a small, sharp sound, startled, but also pleased. A moment later, those same clawless paws began pressing experimentally at the base of his neck. Rubbing. Scratching.

  Iono proved more difficult to scale. The human attempting her ascent struggled for purchase against the scales of this bigger hatchling. It slipped twice before finally hauling itself upward with stubborn persistence, inching along her neck until it settled atop her back. Looking toward Sylth, her mana carried with wicked amusement. “I bet they’ve never flown before. We should take them high and pretend to drop them.”

  Sylth’s head snapped up. “No, they’re too… fragile.” But the flare of excitement that betrayed him pulsed brightly through his mana. He was curious about their reactions. “That’s evil, remember what Dad said?”

  Nearby, the kobold’s mana flared in frantic concern. It waved its arms and growled sharply, pacing in tight, agitated circles as if already anticipating disaster.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Iono regarded Sylth for a long moment, then tilted her gaze toward the humans clinging to them. Her wings unfurled in a slow, deliberate stretch. A bright ripple of mischievous mana rolled off her. "Their fault for getting too comfortable." That was the clearest meaning Sylth could gather before she crouched and launched upward in a sharp leap, wings beating hard.

  The human atop her back became a blazing flare of fear, pure, blinding panic that spiked so violently Sylth almost recoiled from it. Tiny hands clamped around her neck. Its balance faltered once, heels kicking against empty air as the ground dropped away. Such terror didn’t last. As Iono climbed, banking smoothly between the treetops, the human’s fear splintered into something brighter. Shock melted into exhilaration. The mana shifted, jagged panic smoothing into wild, breathless awe.

  When Sylth sensed that change. With an eager snap of his wings, he crouched and leapt after her, only to stumble forward awkwardly. The added weight dragged at him in ways he hadn’t anticipated. The human on his back yelped and flattened itself against his scales.

  He tried again. And failed again. Frustration flickered through his mana, hot and embarrassed. He adjusted his stance, spread his wings wider, and leapt with more force, pushing harder against the air.

  This time, the ground fell away. Sylth surged upward, the human hanging on for dear life. A wild shriek escaped it. They were flying.

  The forest collapsed into a shifting tapestry of dark green and silver beneath them. Wind rushed along Sylth’s wings, filling the membranes, tugging at the ridges of his scales. The human’s shriek broke into breathless, uneven sounds, half-terror, half-laughter.

  Ahead, Iono wheeled through the open air climbing sharply, then dipped without warning. Banking just enough to make her human clutch tighter. Her mana pulsed with smug delight. “Told you,” she sent, saturated with triumph.

  Sylth huffed, angling higher. The canopy thinned beneath his shadow until the trees gave way to open sky. The world widened around them, vast and unobstructed. Above, the moon loomed pale and enormous, its cold light washing over their scales, turning indigo to silver.

  By the time they folded their wings and touched down, the human on Sylth’s back was panting, eyes wide. Sylth landed a little unevenly but recovered quickly, lowering himself so his passenger could slide off. The human dropped to the ground on shaky legs, swaying as though the earth itself still moved. Then Sylth glanced toward Iono. “Gave up on dropping it?” he sent, unable to keep the hint of accusation, or maybe disappointment out of his mana.

  “Too late now,” she replied smoothly.

  A smirk tugged at her expression as she tilted her head, indicating the tiny human still draped stubbornly around her neck. Its fingers were knotted deep between her scales, refusing to release even after landing.

  “I didn’t need to,” she continued, amusement rolling lazily through her presence. “Almost falling did the trick well enough.” She gave a firm shake.

  The human yelped as it lost its grip and tumbled down, but managed to land on its feet somehow. It staggered, chest heaving, eyes locked on Iono with stunned, breathless intensity. Fear lingered in its mana, but it was thinner now, laced heavily with awe.

  Iono leaned down until her snout hovered just above it. “I’m naming you Sticky,” she declared. “He’s quick to cling,” she added with satisfaction. “That seems appropriate.”

  As Iono padded back toward the bonfire and lowered herself beside it, the gathered humans and the blue kobold closed in with cautious eagerness. They formed a loose half-circle, their mana flickering in layered shades of awe, disbelief, and restless excitement. Sharp, rapid sounds spilled from them in overlapping bursts, rising and falling like frantic birdsong.

  Sylth’s human, however, had not moved. It still stood pressed close to him, one hand resting against the base of his neck. Its mana carried none of Sticky’s explosive excitement. Instead, it shimmered with something quieter. Wonder. Careful curiosity. Sylth lowered his head slightly to study it.

  Up close, he could see how thin its skin was. How easily it might tear. How fragile the bones beneath must be. No scales. No fur. No natural armor at all. “You didn’t scream as much,” Sylth's mana waved, though he knew it wouldn’t understand.

  Behind them, Iono was basking openly in attention. Several humans had edged closer to her again, far more confident now. One reached toward her wing and earned a sharp, corrective wing-slap that sent it stumbling backward. Another approached more carefully and placed something small and shiny near her forepaw, retreating a step as though presenting tribute.

  “According to the elder, dragons aren’t numerous,” Iono sent casually, glancing at Sylth as he moved to her side. “So we gather little creatures like these. For tasks suited to their kind.”

  Sylth lowered himself beside her, tail curling close to the warmth of the fire. He tilted his head slightly. “Tasks? Are they strong enough?”

  Iono shifted her gaze from the humans back to him. “No,” she said simply. “But they’re nimble. And eager to please.”

  Her eyes flicked toward Sticky, who was animatedly chattering to the others in their sharp, noisy language. Gesturing broadly, while the surrounding humans reacted with bursts of awe and disbelief.

  “Dragons are rulers. It’s better to have underlings, isn’t it?” Iono continued, lowering herself fully, forepaws folding neatly beneath her chest.

  Sylth didn't argue, as usual. Especially not when Iono’s words carried the cadence of the elders. Iono continued, voice calm and assured. “There are always those who defy dragons,” she said. “The elders say it’s inevitable. Some creatures are foolish. Some are ambitious.”

  Her tail flicked once, unconcerned. “And when they gather in numbers, they can become… inconvenient.”

  “Inconvenient?" Sylth echoed quietly, mostly because the word was new to him.

  “They steal,” Iono replied. “They test borders. They try to prove something.” A faint curl of heat escaped her nostrils, more habit than threat. "We can deal with them directly, of course. But that wastes time. And energy.” Her gaze returned to the humans before them, fumbling with their sticks and hides.

  “It’s better to have smaller creatures handle smaller problems. Send them to chase off pests. To watch territories. To carry messages. To retrieve what’s taken.” She tilted her tail at the small figures clustered around them, some crouched by the fire, others watching from their shelters.

  Sylth watched the humans as Iono spoke, trying to picture them carrying out such tasks. He had already sent a kobold treasure-hunting once, and that had required the elder's assistance and still went wrong. The idea of entrusting creatures this small with anything complex felt… optimistic. “They’re loud,” Sylth observed after a moment, head tilting thoughtfully.

  Iono didn’t respond at first, her attention gathered at Sticky. The human’s mana had been flaring in bright, lingering waves of farewell. Bursts directed toward the others as they strode away. It seemed ready to leave with the others.

  That, wouldn't do.

  Without a growl or warning, Iono rose and stepped forward. Her tail slipped outward in one fluid motion and coiled neatly around Sticky’s middle before the human could react. A startled cry escaped it as its feet left the ground. Iono turned as though nothing unusual had occurred and padded back to the fire, depositing Sticky beside her with casual possession.

  “I don’t mean these, of course,” she clarified calmly. “We’ll find bigger, stronger, smarter underlings.”

  Sylth glanced between Iono and the other humans, who had frozen mid-step. Their mana spiked in alarm, fear, confusion, a flicker of defensive anger. But none advanced. None challenged her. Sticky scrambled upright, distressed mana flickering in sharp pulses.

  “I don’t think he wants to stay,” Sylth noted quietly.

  “Then he’ll get over it,” Iono replied, far too certain. “I have to train him before letting him loose. Besides, we’ve already invested time. We should keep them all.” Her gaze shifted to the cluster of watching humans. They had resumed their chatter, a mix of concern and amusement flickered between them.

  Sylth considered this for a long moment. “Keeping all of them close sounds difficult,” he said at last. “I only want one.” His eyes drifted toward the human who had flown with him, he flicked his tail in a small beckoning motion. To his surprise, the human stepped forward. Slowly and hesitantly, yet determined.

  Sylth's mana grew hopeful with that reaction, perhaps it wouldn't take that long. “I will call this one Pointy,” he declared, studying the subtle taper of her ears compared to the others. “Her ears are sharper.” He explained, as pointy reached him, placing her hand against his scales again. Sylth remained still, observing.

  Nearby, Iono tracked the movement of the humans who had begun leaving the clearing. For a moment, her mana flickered with dissatisfaction. Training them all at once would have been efficient. “I wonder how things this delicate survived so long without us,” she mused aloud.

  Her gaze dropped to Sticky. “They seem very easy to break.” She extended a single claw and nudged him, enough to roll him off balance. Sticky yelped indignantly, scrambling upright with flustered noises and wide, affronted eyes. Iono huffed in mild amusement, tail curling closer around him as though to prevent escape. “See?” she added.

  “They might be good at running,” Sylth suggested, still watching the humans with something akin to optimism.

  Pointy had crouched near him, rummaging through a small collection of trinkets at her side. Bits of bone, polished stone, scraps of metal. After a moment of focused searching, she pinched a small amount of bright powder between her fingers.

  Sylth tilted his head, mildly curious.

  Pointy lifted her hand and blew, causing the powder to burst into the air and ignite. Scattering like a swarm of emerald sparks, flaring brilliantly against the night. The green light spread and shimmered, drifting upward in a luminous mist. For that breathless instant it seemed alive, twisting and unfurling into fleeting shapes that rippled across the underside of the canopy before dissolving into smoke.

  Iono’s eyes narrowed, sharp and assessing. “Your human knows tricks,” she observed.

  Her gaze slid toward Sticky with renewed interest. Her head lowered gradually, shadows shifting across her scales as she leaned in. “I wonder if you know any.” Her mana pulsed with pointed curiosity, pressing lightly against him as though awaiting a response. Sticky froze beneath her looming presence. His uncertainty spiked, sharp and bright, especially as her warm breath washed over his face.

  After a long second, Iono straightened again with faint disappointment. Turning her attention back to Sylth. “If their noises are some kind of communication,” she mused thoughtfully, “they might have a different one for every action.”

  Pointy, blissfully unaware of the discussion unfolding above her, resumed digging through her small hoard. She selected objects one by one. Holding up a polished stone, then a curved shard of bone, then a strip of metal that caught the firelight. Angled them toward Sylth as if awaiting judgment. She made short clicks and low, throaty sounds with each offering. Her posture shifted subtly every time: shoulders lifting when she seemed proud, head dipping when uncertain, hands spreading when presenting something she clearly valued.

  Sylth leaned closer, studying her with growing fascination. “They use gestures too,” he noted, head tilting as he tracked the rhythm between movement and sound. “That helps.”

  Iono watched Pointy with narrowed eyes, then shifted her gaze to Sticky for comparison. He looked a little less active, mostly fidgeting with his fingers or trying to brush her tail from his middle. “We could always try mimicking,” Iono mused aloud. “I did that once to lure birds.” Her tail gave a subtle coil, constricting around Sticky.

  “If their noises carry meaning, perhaps repeating them correctly would get a reaction.” A flash of confidence lit through her mana, as though considering the potential rewards of successful training.

  Sylth considered the idea carefully.

  He lowered his head, watching Pointy as she repeated a particular sound, a short one, always paired with the same gesture toward herself. The rhythm was consistent. Sound, gesture. Sound, gesture.

  Sylth then repeated it, a gravelly krk vibrated through his chest wasn't pitched like he intended. While Pointy froze. For a heartbeat, she simply stared, before echoing it. Her version came out softer, higher, shaped by a smaller throat.

  By the third attempt, even without her repetition. The projection was very accurate, drawing the attention around them. Movements slowed. Conversations faltered. One by one, their attention shifted fully toward the dragon producing their sound with startling accuracy.

  Iono’s mana rippled with approval. “Just like birds,” she remarked. “Their attention flocks to familiar noise.”

  Pointy repeated the sound, louder, motioning to her chest with firm insistence. Then she pointed straight at Sylth, making a different sound. The mana beneath her gesture, more assertive than her previous gestures.

  He straightened thoughtfully and replicated that one too. Another hush spread, the humans had gone still, their mana flaring bright with astonishment and excitement. Even Sticky stopped struggling beneath Iono’s tail, eyes darting between dragon and human. while Pointy’s expression lit with something radiant. She gestured to her chest again. Repeated the first sound. Then pointed to Sylth and repeated the second, slower this time, as if guiding him.

  Sylth lowered his head closer to her and echoed the sound she used for herself. “So this is Pointy in their sounds,” he sent, satisfaction humming through his mana.

  Iono tilted her head, studying the exchange with sharpened interest. “Assuming their sounds carry meaning,” she replied thoughtfully, “the one she used for herself likely holds more than ‘Pointy.’ Just as the sound she used for you cannot possibly encompass your birth name.” Her tail flicked once, inadvertently disturbing Sticky in the process.

  She got up and without warning, her tail uncoiled and nudged Sticky forward until he stood directly before her forepaws. He stumbled, caught himself, and looked up just as her shadow fell over him. Iono lowered her head slowly, until her snout hovered a breath above his face. Sticky’s mana flickered wildly, alarm, confusion, reluctant attention. While the clearing went quiet again.

  Iono reproduced the first sound Pointy had used, the one paired with the chest-thump. Then she extended one claw and pointed it directly at Sticky, earning a ripple of confusion that spread through the few humans present.

  Pointy’s brows knit. She looked between Iono and Sticky, then shook her head quickly. She gestured to herself again and repeated the sound firmly, pointing at herself with emphasis. Causing Iono to shift her gaze to Pointy's gesture. "So it isn't a general term," Iono's mana concluded, then shifted back to Sticky.

  This time, she reproduced the second sound, the one Pointy had used when pointing at Sylth. Motioning to herself this time, instead of Sticky. Pointy’s mana showed some dismay, and she pointed firmly at Sylth while repeating the second sound with unmistakable insistence.

  Iono hummed thoughtfully. “So,” she sent to Sylth, tail flicking once behind her, “the first sound is not a general term. It is hers. The second is not universal either.”

  Iono had a habit of thinking aloud in patterns Sylth struggled to track. Her mana flared outward in wide, restless pulses, unfocused and self-contained, the sort that did not seek reply or reassurance. She was not explaining for his sake, merely mapping.

  And there she began pointing at objects scattered through the clearing. A stone, a scrap of metal, a carved trinket. With each gesture she repeated one of the humans’ sounds, crisp and deliberate. Then another. Then another. Her mimicry was sharper than his had been. Where Sylth had tested tones cautiously, she seized them, filed them away, and reproduced them with unsettling precision. Each repetition grew cleaner, more intentional, as though she were building a catalogue in real time.

  Sylth watched, fascinated despite himself. So did Pointy. Dragon and human alike followed every movement of Iono’s claw, unblinking, as she dissected their language piece by piece.

  "I think i have enough objects, let's try actions," Iono declared after a while. She began to pace the clearing, circling Sticky slowly, movements exaggerated just enough to be unmistakable. Her gaze never left him. When she completed the circle, Iono stopped in front of him and pointed to herself with the tip of one claw. She repeated the sound Pointy had used to label her. Then she walked again. Stopped. Pointed to herself once more.

  Repeating the process until Sticky gave her a new sound, gestured to her legs. Her mana brightened with sharp satisfaction. “I’m guessing that means ‘walk.’” She glanced at Sylth, confidence pulsing outward. “Let’s confirm.” With that she crouched and launched into the air. Wings snapped with a heavy rush of wind, scattering dust and leaves.

  She landed a short distance away, close enough to remain within sight. After folding her wings, she returned to Sticky on foot. She motioned to herself again, coupled with her sound. Then looked at him expectantly. Slowly, he repeated her sound, the one tied to her. Then gave a second, different sound. It was paced as if there were two distinguished sounds.

  She did not have to puzzle over it for long. Pointy abruptly abandoned her place beside Sylth and hurried toward Iono, urgency bright in her mana. She began pacing in a tight circle around the dragon, mimicking the exaggerated steps Iono had taken moments before. With each pass she repeated the sound Sticky had offered for walk, firm and insistent.

  After several repetitions, Pointy shifted tactics. She began adding another sound between the name and the action, a brief connective, spoken with sharper emphasis. At first the added sound seemed incidental, just another syllable woven into the pattern. But then Pointy altered the rhythm.

  She struck her chest and gave her name. Inserted one sharp connective. Then walked.

  On the next pass, she walked first, then spoke her name, followed by a different connective before repeating the action-sound.

  The connectives bent the action, that much Iono grasped quickly. They shifted direction, altered ownership, changed who acted and how. One sharpened the meaning forward; another folded it back. More sounds spilled from Pointy in eager succession, layered with gesture and insistence. Iono let them come. She was not struggling to understand the ideas themselves, she already possessed the concepts. Movement. Self. Other. Sequence. Intention. The challenge lay in fitting those known structures into this narrow, sound-bound framework.

  Where dragons cast meaning through pulse and pressure, humans compressed theirs into breath and vibration. Small. Linear. Bound to sequence.

  Sylth observed as Iono tested patterns and Pointy corrected her with stubborn insistence. He felt no urge to intrude. There was no need. Mana didn't queue or bottleneck the way sound did. It moved all at once, with layers, simultaneously and complete. Each time Iono recognized a pattern, the understanding flared outward from her in a clean, luminous surge. He absorbed it instantly, following the shape of her deductions as naturally as drawing breath.

  By the time the sun crested the horizon, spilling pale gold across the canopy, several patterns had already taken shape. The small figures had begun to tire, their energy fading into sluggish movements and scattered glances. Only Pointy still clung to focus, voice hoarse but determined, each sound trembling with effort yet sharpened by her persistent curiosity. Her posture slumped at the edges of exhaustion, but her mana crackled bright and eager, alive with the thrill of discovery.

  Iono showed no sign of fatigue, unbothered by the passage of time. Even Sticky had surrendered to sleep at the fire’s edge, chest rising and falling in steady rhythm, oblivious to the flurry of lessons unfolding nearby.

  Iono’s questions grew more intricate, layering one concept atop another: cause and effect, timing, and subtle distinctions between action and intention. Pointy met each challenge, responding with careful precision, weaving gestures and sounds into coherent sequences. Occasionally, a new connective sound appeared, bridging names and actions, revealing the beginnings of grammar in its rawest form.

  Sylth watched from a few paces back, tail curling lazily but mana humming with interest. By mid-morning, Iono settled by the extinguished fire, earning a sigh of relief from Pointy. She slumped against Sylth's side, who looked at her with curiosity.

  “Their language is agonizingly slow,” Iono’s mana pulsed directly into Sylth. “Everything comes in separated and sequenced pieces. Each sound matters, each pause counts. Change the order, and the meaning shifts. It’s… like learning to think all over again.”

  Her gaze lingered on him as he watched Pointy slump against his side, curiosity brightening in the same way it did when he tracked prey. “But now we can train them,” Sylth murmured, tail curling gently around Pointy.

  “I suppose,” Iono replied, flicking Sticky lightly with her tail. He twitched, blinking groggily, then jerked upright as unease flared in his mana.

  One of the startled noises he made caught her attention. Tilting her head, she asked, voice and mana laced with curiosity, “What is… ‘hell’?”

  Sticky froze mid-motion. His mana trembled in frantic pulses, flickering with alarm, confusion, and a faint glimmer of defiance. His mouth opened, then closed again, hesitant, uncertain. Iono leaned closer, eyes narrowing. “Speak,” she sent sharply, the command firm but calm. Her tone borrowed from the rhythms she had learned from Pointy, which weren't very commanding to begin with.

  The human finally responded, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s… it’s something I say when I’m surprised,” he murmured, jaw tightening. “Or… angry.”

  Iono cocked her head, tilting it as she considered the tiny pulses of mana Sticky radiated while speaking. “Surprised… angry,” she sent, probing the meaning behind the sounds. “Explain,” she pressed.

  Sticky hesitated, then spoke slowly, carefully. “They… are feelings. Words for what I feel. Like happy… or sad.”

  Iono paused, letting the concept settle. She had already cataloged “happy” as a term, linking sound to a state of contentment in their mana.

  Her tail flicked lightly, dismissing the notion. ‘Hell’ was meaningless to her, her mana settling from curiosity into calm certainty. It was merely a sound, tied only to sudden spikes in emotion. "Get food for me now." she said, nudging Sticky with her tail.

  He paused for a heartbeat, then shuffled toward the remnants of the fire, eyes scanning the clearing for something edible. Both hatchlings followed his movements closely, until Iono rose. “Follow,” she spoke, while her mana was tinged with impatience, though only Sylth could sense it. Sticky obeyed, moving with her through the forest, leaving Pointy a liittle curious as she watched it.

  That’s when she heard it. “Sana, what’s that?” Sylth’s voice carried over as he got up, drawing her gaze back to him. His tail swept toward the kobold sleeping beside the quenched fire.

  Pointy followed his gesture, then blinked at the kobold. “A kobold,” she said simply. She was surprised, just as much as she was confused by hearing him speak.

  Sylth didn’t hesitate. With a sharp, clear tone, he echoed, “Kobold!” The sound drew the creature’s attention. Its eyes snapped open, pupils shrinking in alarm, and it took several careful steps before padding closer to the dragon.

  “What’s your name?” Sylth asked, his tone patient, shaped by the lessons Pointy had taught.

  The kobold tilted its head, staring up at him. After a pause, it squeaked, “I… I don’t know.”

  Sylth let a pleased hum ripple through his mana. “Then your name is Squish,” he said, voice low but firm, letting the sound linger. He repeated it once more. “Squish.” The word felt right, learned from the early lessons of naming actions.

  The kobold rushed forward, nuzzling against Sylth’s forepaw with a sloppy, enthusiastic hug, squeaking once more. “I’m Squish now! I’m Squish!” Its voice echoed in tiny, high bursts, scattering leaves with each hop.

  Pointy observed, all but interested. “He likes it,” she infered, eyes bright with curiosity.

  Squish leapt again, bouncing around them before settling against Sylth's scales, chest heaving with excitement. His tiny hands traced the ridges along Sylth’s forepaw, fingers splaying over smooth and rough patches alike.

  “Squish, what was that bright light?” Sylth asked, studying the kobold closely.

  The kobold blinked, hesitating. “Magic?” His voice and mana carried the uncertainty of someone unsure of their own words.

  "What is magic?” Sylth asked, his gaze eventually turning to Pointy.

  She considered, blinking up at him. “Magic…” she trailed off, then looked away briefly, gathering her thoughts. “It’s something inside us that lets us do things. Move things, make fire, heal wounds…” She traced slow, deliberate gestures to illustrate her meaning.

  “Did you make that bright light, Squish?” Sylth pressed, his curiosity sharp.

  Squish shook his head, wobbling slightly. “No, no. It was the scroll… it had magic in it, I think,” he said, voice trembling, as if recalling something unsettling.

  “How did we get here?” Sylth asked, careful not to let the thread slip away.

  Squish paused, his small form shrinking slightly. “I don’t know…” His mana throbbed with regret and sadness. “It was all bright, and then… I woke up here.”

  Pointy finally moved closer to Squish, speaking with measured clarity. “I take it you were all teleported here by that scroll, right?”

  Squish nodded eagerly. “Yeah! That makes sense,” he said, eyes bright. “The scroll… the light… then nothing.”

  Iono returned at that moment, tail flicking impatiently at Sticky, who dragged a boar corpse behind him. He dropped it at the hatchlings’ feet as Iono settled herself, eyes flicking to Pointy. “Where do I find dragons?” she asked.

  Pointy paused, brow furrowed in thought. “There’s one near a big mountain to the east-”

  Her words were cut off by a sharp, commanding voice.

  “Sana! What do you think you’re saying?” The largest human among them spoke, his tone edged with frustration. Pointy jumped, startled, her gaze darting between him and the dragons. The man’s eyes settled on Iono, Sylth, and Squish, his frown deepening as he registered their growing understanding of human language.

  Iono tilted her head, parsing the words. Most were unfamiliar; her learning was far from complete. Yet she recognized the interruption as a barrier. Pointy was offering information, and now it was being blocked. That didn’t sit well. Iono needed to understand it fully before she could proceed.

  The humans continued their chatter, words beyond her comprehension, their mana flickering with tension and wariness. Iono shifted her attention back to the boar, eating it calmly alongside her brother, letting the humans speak themselves into quiet.

  But neither hatchling had noticed the passage of time; they had slipped into sleep, only stirring at nightfall when Pointy nudged them awake. “Wake up,” she whispered, prodding Sylth and Iono gently. “Let’s fly.” Her mana shimmered with agitation, the kind born from urgency and the sense of doing something important.

  Sylth made no move to stop her as she climbed into position, readying herself for the fight. Pointy’s voice cut in again. “Take the kobold. We’ll go far from here.”

  Soon, Iono returned. Sticky who had slipped away into a tent earlier, now was safely struggling within the grasp of her tail. “Okay,” she said, waking Squish and lowering a wing for him to climb up. He did so willingly. Sylth followed, helping Pointy into place, and readied himself for the flight.

  The takeoff startled the humans still lingering in the clearing. Shouts of alarm cut through the night, their mana flaring bright with fear and anger were fumbled up under the treetops. The flight offered no comfort. Winds lashed against the humans clinging to the hatchlings, hearts pounding against their ribs. Sticky let out sharp protests, squirming while held in Iono’s claws as he argued with Pointy mid-air. “What do you think you're doing?!” he squeaked, hands clutching her scales for dear life. His voice was nearly swallowed by the wind, they had already reached a height where sound barely carried.

  Iono merely rose higher, following the eastward path Pointy indicated. “Why?” she called over the rush of air, voice carrying toward the smaller dragon, right to the figure on top of him.

  Pointy’s shrill reply came with urgency. “So they can’t follow us!” She held tight, eyes fixed on the distant horizon.

  Sylth’s curiosity flared brightly through his mana. “Why?” he joined, voice cutting through the wind in the only way it could.

  Pointy hesitated, gaze flicking between the shrinking settlement below and the jagged outline of the distant mountains. Finally, her conviction solidified. “They are dangerous,” she said. “They don’t want your good. You need to stay away from them.”

  Sticky flailed in anger and fear, voice cracking over the gale. “I knew we shouldn’t have trusted a druid! How did you two learn how to speak?!”

  “She taught us,” Iono answered swiftly, leaving no room for argument. “What’s a druid?”

  Pointy’s voice rang out after the question. “People that protect the forest.” Her eyes never wavered from the path ahead.

  The hatchlings’ thoughts intertwined in pulses of mana, a constant stream of questions and observations. The confusion faded beneath the clarity in moments. “Are we going to the dragons now?” Sylth asked, voice calm, seeking confirmation.

  “Yes,” Pointy replied firmly. The two hatchlings surged forward, cutting through the night sky.

  "A powerful red dragon."