Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 88669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
“I wasn’t successful in finding a cure, no.”
“I expected as much.”
It took all I had in me to not snap back. To not cut down my father with the same kind of fury and disdain he’d shown me for my entire life. My mother’s hand twitched in mine. I took a deep breath. This wasn’t about my father’s and my fucked-up relationship.
“How much longer does she have?” I asked.
“We’re not sure.” Dawn went to the bedside table and grabbed the glass of water, tilting it against our mother’s lips. The water trickled down the side of her mouth, darkening the pillow underneath her. My heart sundered in half, torn like a wet piece of paper. I’d never experienced this kind of hurt. This kind of pain.
Scales started to ripple across my mother’s skin. They were a sulfur yellow, and they were spreading down her arms and neck like a rotten disease. Her eyes snapped open, and she gasped for air. My sister shouted for someone to do something, but we all knew it was useless. No one could help; no one could save our mother.
The scales consumed her as a shout tore from her throat. I turned away, feeling like I was seconds from passing out. But I couldn’t. I was the oldest. I had to be strong.
I turned back to her. Watched as the scales turned an angry molten red. My little brother ran to the side of the room and started to throw up. She began to thrash and writhe as if she were possessed. I didn’t take my eyes off her, even though all I wanted to do was disappear down to the center of the Earth.
A bright white light filled the room, followed by a blast of heat.
I started to cry. Couldn’t hold it back. No matter how solid I was supposed to be for my family. We all did. That heat was the last we’d ever feel of our mother.
The bed was now covered in ash and scales, all that was left from the fire that tore through her from the inside out. My father didn’t say a word, pushing past us and leaving the room with a slam of the door that rattled the entire castle. I grabbed my sister and brothers in a loose hug. I was the oldest son; it was my job to pull us all together and get us through this.
But I couldn’t even get words to form past the thick lump of emotion swelling in my throat.
“You guys…” It was my youngest brother. He was pressed up against the wall, his face pale. Warrick’s voice shook, same as his shoulders. He looked scared. No… he looked terrified.
“What? What is it?” Dawn came to his side, hand on his elbow.
“I can’t sense my dragon. I can’t shift.”
Chapter 2
Potions, Lotions, and Magic Notions
Damien
The castle was deathly quiet. The air felt persistently heavy, like I was trudging through thick sewage, even when I was in my dragon form, flying around the property for some sort of comfort.
I found none.
Nothing could bring me joy. Nothing could bring me happiness. I had come to accept that. How could it when I witnessed my mother turn into a pile of dust and scales weeks ago. Three weeks and four days, to be exact.
Now I had to do the same with my younger brother?
It wasn’t fair. We were dragons. We should have been immune to things like viruses and diseases. We lived upward of two hundred years. My mother was only sixty-five. And my little brother? Twenty-three. A mere fraction of his full life span, and now he was fighting to reach twenty-four.
I passed by the hallway that led to his bedroom. The heavy set of wooden doors was sealed shut, an intricate carving of a peacock flaring its tail feathers underneath a moss-covered tree taking up the entire frame. It was a difficult decision, but with none of us knowing the origin of this illness, we’d decided to have Warrick quarantined while we figured out what was happening. Of course, we’d all been next to our mother when she died, so we were likely all exposed, but only Warrick was showing signs of the illness: a high fever, a lack of appetite, and an increasingly painful burning sensation. He also couldn’t shift into his dragon form, which had been previously unheard of.
“Do you need anything, War?”
His answer echoed in my head, faint with exhaustion. “No, I’m okay. Thanks.”
“Water? Snacks?”
“I’ve got both. Dawn brought me some Sour Patch Kids.”
“Ah, good.” I leaned my head against the door and balled my hands into tight fists, the nails digging into my palm. “I’m going to figure out how to save you, War. I will. Just hang in there, alright?”
“I’m trying, Damien. I’m trying.” His voice went dim, like a TV flickering off. I knew exhaustion was taking him, and I’d rather my little brother sleep through the pain than bear it.