Chapter Text
The first strike came like lightning, sudden, brutal, and impossible to anticipate.
Jason’s breath ripped from his chest in a wheezing gasp, fire burning through his lungs as though molten stone had been poured straight into them. His wings beat erratically, ragged edges catching the wind and dragging him sideways. The pain tore across the membranes like lava, every movement only deepening the wounds.
God, it hurt.
He hadn’t heard them approach. He hadn’t seen the glint of scales or felt the warning rush of displaced air. One moment he’d been gliding above the storm clouds, watching the sun’s light fade into bruised purples and grays, the next, talons like iron had slammed into him from beneath.
Caught off guard. Dragged down. Claws digging for the softer, thinner scales of his belly.
Whoever it was, they were either desperate or stupid. Jason’s chest was plated in thick scales too strong to pierce, but his wings, his wings were another matter. And when the other dragon realized brute force wouldn’t break him, they’d gone for the cheap shot.
He’d roared. He’d thrashed. He’d felt the membrane of his left wing rip under the enemy’s claws. Hot, wet pain exploded down his side, and panic swallowed thought whole.
The skirmish hadn’t lasted long. A minute, maybe two. His attacker broke off once it was clear Jason wouldn’t go down easily, disappearing into the storm with the satisfaction of damage done. But the wounds they’d left behind…
Every beat of his wings was agony, the holes stretching wider, blood slicking his scales. And now the storm was breaking over him in full. Rain lashed against his body, salty and stinging, seeping into every torn edge. The wind tore at him, threatened to shove him back, to drag him down into the churning sea below.
And worse, there were sounds. Shapes in the storm. The whisper of wings that weren’t his own.
Chased. Hunted.
He didn’t even remember when he turned his flight toward familiar skies. His mind was a fog of pain and instinct, one desperate, grasping thought beating louder than the storm, home.
He wasn’t supposed to go back. Not like this. Not as the dragon he’d become, darker and harder than the bright-scaled hatchling who’d once left that nest behind. His father had said he would always be welcome, yes, but instinct whispered warnings of territory and rejection. He was bigger now. Sharper. Different.
But the hatchling in him, the part that still longed for the warmth of his sire’s coils and the safety of a family piled together, drowned out every warning. That hatchling cried out with broken, mindless sounds he barely registered escaping his jaws:
Hurt. Father. Hurt. Scared. Please. Need you. Sire. Please.
On and on, ragged calls that slipped between teeth without thought.
The storm blurred the world until he didn’t recognize the cliffs, didn’t see the familiar outline of rock until it was almost too late. The mouth of the cave loomed in front of him like salvation, and Jason angled downward, every ounce of strength going into one final push.
It wasn’t a landing. It was a crash.
Stone shattered beneath his weight as he hit the ground hard, skidding across slick rock, wings folding against him in a convulsion of pain. His vision swam black at the edges, his chest heaved for air, and still the helpless cries tumbled out of him,
Hurt, father, please, sire.
Then the dark swallowed him whole.