Rain hammered against the reinforced glass roof of the Jade Mountain dorms, a relentless, wet drumming that echoed through the stone chamber. Moisture clung to the air, heavy and thick with the scent of wet earth and ancient moss.
Heavy. That was the only word for how his limbs felt every damn morning. It was like his old Earth gravity was still playing tug-of-war with this planet's lighter pull, dragging his bones down into the stone floor. He groaned, shifting his massive SandWing wings, the membrane stretching with a dry, dusty rustle.
Reaching up, he pinched the small metal hoop dangling from his left earlobe. Cold. The earring felt like a chip of ice against his warm scales, completely inert but grounding. He was Logan back on Earth, just a guy who died and woke up in the body of a fire-breathing lizard, but here he was Cactus. A hybrid with too many secrets and a mouth that got him into too much trouble.
Beside him, a quiet wheeze broke the rhythm of the rain. Moonwatcher sat huddled in the corner of her nest, her snout nearly touching her knees. Her scales, usually a deep night-sky black, looked dull and dusty under the dim light filtering through the skylight.
Trembling. She was shaking so hard her claws scraped against the stone floor. Her silver teardrop scales pulsed with a frantic, irregular light, mirroring the chaos in her mind.
"Hey," Cactus murmured, his voice sounding like gravel grinding together. "Moon. You there?"
"Too loud," she whispered, her claws digging deeper into her skull. "It's too loud, Cactus. Everyone is... they're all screaming inside. So much static. I can't... I can't breathe."
Damn telepathy. The sheer volume of emotional garbage from hundreds of adolescent dragons waking up at once was hitting her like a freight train. It was a psychic sewage leak, and she was drowning in it.
Sliding closer, he kept his movements slow and deliberate, making sure his heavy, venomous tail didn't swing near her. He sat right in front of her, close enough that she could feel the radiating, dry heat from his desert-born scales. He smelled of ash and old dust.
"Listen to me," he said, keeping his tone flat, the way his therapist back in Chicago used to do when he had panic attacks. "Ignore them. Focus on something physical. Count the rain."
"I... I can't," she whimpered, a tear slipping down her snout, leaving a dark trail on her dark scales.
"Yes, you can, girl," he muttered, leaning in closer so his snout was inches from her ear. "Count the drops. One. Two. Three. Focus on the glass. Just the glass."
Slowly, her breathing hitched. She blinked, her emerald eyes focusing on his yellow, slit-pupil gaze. She inhaled deeply, her chest rising and falling in sync with his own broad chest.
"One," she whispered, her voice shaking. "Two. Three."
Warmth radiated between them. The tension slowly drained from her shoulders, leaving her slumped but stable. She leaned slightly toward him, soaking in the dry heat of his body. He wanted to reach out, to wrap a wing around her, but he stopped himself. Getting attached was a one-way ticket to getting burned, and he already had the scars to prove it. He wasn't going to let anyone else in.
---
Noise exploded the moment they stepped into the Great Hall. It was a chaotic mess of flapping wings, scraping talons, and the obnoxious roar of hungry dragons. The smell of roasting meat, raw fish, and damp scales hit his nostrils like a punch.
MudWings gorged themselves on roasted boar, blood dripping from their thick jaws. RainWings gossiped in the rafters, their scales shifting through brilliant, annoying shades of pink and yellow. Cactus hated the noise. It was too much like a high school cafeteria, only with more teeth and fire.
Sitting at the edge of the table, Cactus pulled a charred leg of mountain goat toward himself. He tore a chunk of meat off, chewing slowly. Sunny, Clay, and Tsunami sat nearby, talking loudly over the din.
"Eat some more, Sunny," Clay grunted, his mouth full of beef. "You need to put on some weight."
Sunny smiled, her golden scales bright and cheerful. "I'm fine, Clay. Really."
Clay grunted again, turning back to his pile of food. Cactus watched them silently, his eyes scanning the room. He felt out of place, an alien wearing a dragon's skin.
Across from them, Tsunami was staring. Her deep blue SeaWing scales practically glowed under the torchlight. She wasn't eating. She was just watching Cactus, her webbed talons tapping a slow, threatening rhythm on the stone table.
Blue scales shifted as she leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. Cactus ignored her. He took another bite of his food, chewing with deliberate slowness. He knew she wanted to spar. She wanted to test him, to see what the weird SandWing hybrid was made of, but he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction.
Turning away, he felt a sharp, sudden itch on his chest. It was his scar.
Sudden itching flared up along the jagged line of pale tissue that marred his golden chest scales. It was a nasty reminder of his past, a deep gouge that ran from his collarbone down to his ribs. He rubbed it absently, his claws scraping against the rough skin.
Jagged and ugly, the scar felt unusually hot today. It was pulsing, a dull throb that seemed to match the rhythm of his racing heart. He wondered if it was reacting to something in the air.
Winter sat across from them, occupying the far end of the table. She isn't looking at her food; she's looking at Cactus. She's analyzing his posture, her pale blue and silver scales reflecting the cold light of the morning. Her eyes were like chips of ice, sharp and calculating.
Cold blue eyes locked onto his. Cactus caught her staring and gave her a slow, half-smile, letting his gaze linger a second too long.
Flustered, she immediately looked away, her silver scales flushing a faint, icy blue. She aggressively stabbed a piece of raw fish with her claw, pretending he didn't exist. Cactus chuckled quietly, a low rumble in his chest.
---
Claws scraped against the stone floor of the history cave as the students settled into their seats. The air was cool and drafty, smelling of old parchment and damp rock.
Scorpion, an ancient SandWing elder with dusty, yellow scales and a tattered sail, stood at the front of the room. He cleared his throat, a sound like dry autumn leaves scraping together.
"Ancient history," Scorpion began, his voice cracking with age. "Today we discuss the Scorpion Bombing. Three hundred years ago, the SkyWings launched a surprise attack on our borders. The devastation was absolute, taking three weeks of constant aerial bombardment to reduce our outpost to ash."
"Actually, that's historically inaccurate," Cactus interrupted, his voice cutting through the quiet cave like a knife.
Everyone froze. Dozens of heads turned to stare at him. Qibli looked stunned, while Winter glared at him with pure annoyance.
"Explain," Scorpion barked, his old eyes narrowing at the insolent hybrid.
"Basic logistics," Cactus said, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms. "SkyWings are fast, but they aren't machines. They can't fly for three weeks straight without stopping to rest and refuel. Based on the distance between the Sky Kingdom and the outpost, and the carrying capacity of their soldiers, the bombing couldn't have lasted more than four days. The rest of the time was spent on ground-level skirmishes. The timeline you're teaching is physically impossible."
Silence fell over the classroom. Scorpion stared at him, his jaw slightly open, completely speechless. Cactus just shrugged. He had used basic Earth military logic, but to these dragons, he probably sounded like a lunatic or a genius. He didn't care either way.
---
Walking down the narrow stone corridor after class, Cactus felt the heavy air of the mountain pressing against him. He just wanted to get back to his dorm and sleep.
"You talk too much," a sharp voice called out.
Blue talons blocked his path. Tsunami stood in front of him, her chest puffed out, her wings flared slightly to fill the narrow hallway. Her tail was twitching frantically, a clear sign of nerves she was trying desperately to hide.
"I talk because it's the only way to make sure you're listening," Cactus said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous quiet. He stepped closer, entering her personal space, his warm snout almost touching her cold, wet nose.
Shoving past her, he didn't wait for her response. He could feel her intense gaze burning into his back as he walked away, her tail lashing the air in frustration.
---
Back in the dorm, the silence of the room was a welcome relief. The rain had slowed to a gentle drizzle, the soft patter against the glass roof acting as a soothing white noise.
Strange vibrations suddenly thrummed against his skin. Cactus froze, his hand flying to his left ear.
Low, rhythmic humming pulsed through the steel earring. It was vibrating slightly, a low frequency hum that resonated all the way down to his chest. He had never felt this before. It was like a radio receiver picking up a signal.
Moonwatcher bursts into the room, eyes wide. "The static... it’s not random. It’s a pattern. And it’s coming from *you*, Cactus."