Page 30 of Full Moon
"Some of these tomes I haven't seen for hundreds of years," he remarks with reverence. He pulls one down and walks back, opening it to reveal ancient paths once used by wolves to migrate south. Over a hundred years ago, multiple exits led through the now-altered mountains.
"How?" I ask, studying the changes in the mountain ranges.
"The last earth-dragon used his power to raise the mountains, closing off the last of the winter wolves to protect them," Diaval explains. He takes the book, tracing the map. "His final resting place is mid-mountain, due south from Crescent Valley. He gavethe last ounce of his life force to protect your bloodline." I see the shadow of old grief pass over his face.
"I'm sorry for your loss," I whisper. Diaval nods, the sorrow deepening, before he turns and walks deeper into the house. Easton follows, leaving me alone in the living room, surrounded by relics of a past I am only beginning to understand.
I wander aimlessly, pulling sheets off furniture. The room slowly comes to life, revealing a color palette remarkably similar to my taste. I find several bracelets scattered about, as if dropped in haste. Most are delicate and feminine, but a few are thicker, masculine. Each piece whispers fragments of my father's life. Heading into the kitchen, I take in the scene: minimalist at best, a typical bachelor's home with the bare minimum of everything. Searching through the cabinets, I find just enough to whip up a dish Fi's mom used to make us as kids. I pull out the chicken and spices I need, as well as some canned veggies.
As I start cooking, nostalgia tugs at my heart. For fun, I mix honey, hot water, and yeast together, preparing to make fresh bread. When the yeast is ready, I slowly start adding flour, kneading until it reaches the perfect consistency. I toss it into a buttered bowl and cover it with a dish towel to let it rise. Once the stove is warm enough, I brush butter and sprinkle salt over the loaf before placing it in the oven.
A soft, lilting tone escapes my lips—a song emerging from somewhere deep within me. An answering song drifts down, rougher yet harmonious. The scale on my chest grows warm, pulsing in time with my heartbeat.
Torben and Easton come downstairs, smiling. "That smells divine... What's the song you're singing?" Torben asks.
I shrug slightly, not wanting to break the flow, and return to cooking. The song feels right in my heart, and I can't stop. I suddenly realize where the second song is coming from. It's Diaval. He said once his dragon would sing in his own voice. Without thinking, I rush outside, ignoring the calls of my other mates.
There, in the snow, the ancient black dragon sings with his head tilted back. His neck moves in a serpentine motion. His song is a tribute to the ancient gods, thanking them for the mate he received. When he feels my presence, his head lowers, tilting from side to side as he sings. The last note falls from his maw, and my song ends seconds later.
I know what comes next. I bite my hand, making it bleed, then stick it in Diaval's mouth. He needs to taste my blood. I rub my bleeding hand over his tongue, feeling the bond between us strengthen. He strikes and bites himself, then offers me his blood.I drink, feeling the power and ancient magic coursing through me. As he shifts back to his human form, he holds his wrist to my mouth, and I drink from him as well.
Sealing our connection.
Forever.
