Dragon Guide

Chapter 1: The Arrival of Whelps

Rivia

It is mid-August, the warmest time of the year in the Sligo caves of Ireland. The heat of the cavern refracts and causes a nauseating weight to sit heavy over me, but I must endure, the whelps are preparing and so must I. The eggs have already begun to deflate since yesterday, so I am sure they will be hatching any time now. Breathing deeply, I reinforce the mana zone around me. I bring it in close so that it clings to me like a second skin. This way, I can conserve as much mana as possible in this process by not having to expand and cover unnecessary space.

" Rivia, the eggs are hatching! Hurry and get over here!", Nova cried frantically from a side chamber in the cavern.

Nova is my aide, she is a mage like me, but I’m classified as an archmage, which is more advanced than a high mage, which is the level she is at. I am a Dragon Guide. We help to hatch whelps and guide them into maturity as they learn to control their wild instincts and integrate into modern society. I hate that this is even a thing because I want to see them roaming freely like the majestic beings they are, but those nasty little humans are tenacious and we can't take risks anymore. The number of living dragons is too few as is.

I'm seated at the main switchboard center inside the cave system. Here, all the equipment is custom-made to withstand the extreme conditions of the hatching ritual. I quickly press a button on the switchboard in front of me and instruct Gram, Nova's husband and our chef, to bring in a tray of raw meat for the babies. They will be famished and want to feed immediately, and there really is nothing worse than a hungry baby dragon. At this early stage, they have absolutely no reasoning skills and can go on a rampage from the slightest hint of hunger.

I push away from the station and begin walking briskly further into the back of the cave system, but soon my fast steps turn into a sprint as I hear the loud "C R A C K", echoing through the cavern. I need to be there, I must be the first one they see! My heart feels like it is about to jump out of my chest. I need to be the one they imprint on since I will be their "mother" for the early years of their lives! Another "C R A C K", echoes just as I bang the last corner and enter the nursery. A curvy figure with pixie-cut auburn hair turns to look at me, her grey eyes trembling frantically, her already pale skin looking unnaturally pasty. She lets out a huge sigh of relief and I can see color immediately begin to return to her face. I look past her and I see the little claws tearing through the reddish-gold shell of its egg. The eggs are stunning and strangely resemble the appearance of tiny iridescent clam shells intricately laid overlapping each other to encase a baby whelp. Now I understand her behavior. I make my way in front of it and kneel to watch as it emerges from its trappings. My heart races as I gently place my hand on the egg and give it a gentle rub, being very cautious not to damage the shell. At my touch, the egg stops its internal turmoil and it stays still.

I lift my head at the sound of heavy footsteps approaching on my left and from the corner of my eyes, I see the tall, strapping man with his jet-black hair and honey-colored skin walking towards us. His baby blue eyes first landed on Nova, then me, and eventually past me and onto the hatching egg. His thick brows shoot up and, with wordless understanding, he rushes forward and sets the tray down beside me. This is Gram, Nova’s husband. He quickly walks away with Nova in tow. As they leave, I can hear the humming of the magic barrier being set in place by Nova, sealing in the whelps for their safety. For the rest, I'll be alone.

As I lift my eyes to look across the space I'm in, I hear another " C R A C K" to my left and I see that another egg is about to hatch. There are a total of 10 eggs in this nursery and each egg is about 2 feet in length. They glisten in the soft light of the eternal furnace and a feeling that they will all survive and hatch this time around settles in my stomach. This makes me very happy and extremely nervous at the same time. Another "C R A C K" sounds from the far back and then in succession, a continuous encore of cracking fills the chamber and all the eggs begin to hatch. Quickly I lift the tray, run to the center of the room, and lay atop the grand stone tablet inscribed with ancient dragon scripts. I protect myself with raw mana as I engulf myself in blazing blue flames created from my own magic.

Ear-splitting shrieks flood the chamber and I quickly emit more flames to engulf my body. I feel the heat of the flames grow and once again I reinforce the second skin that I've made around myself making it fit closer and also thickening it from being paper thin to now being as thick as a quilt. My heart races as I hear little claws scraping across the floor. I feel them approaching me, attracted to the flames that I made to lead them to me. I wait eagerly for the whelps' flames to set me ablaze so that we can weave our magic together to be bonded as mother and child.

Just as I think to myself that everything is going smoothly, I hear the weak cry of a whelp and I tuck my chin, looking down past my feet and there I can see in the distance that one of the whelps is struggling to break free of its shell. My heart begins to race because I know that I should not help it but my caring nature battles for dominance in my head. Just as I was about to get up to offer assistance, from my left, the first of the flames hit me. My momentary distraction causes me to feel the strong sting as my skin burns from the flames of the imprinting ritual. My first child has acknowledged me. I quickly reinforce my skin and emit more flames to match hers as I place my hand over the burn and soothe the skin with cool water spouting from my palm.

I hear the weak cry again and I can't fight anymore. I cautiously rise from my dwelling and slowly, carefully, I made my way to the struggling whelp. I hear more claws scraping along the dirt flow of the enclosure, every step approaching me more frantically than the last. I shouldn't be moving, their primal instinct to hunt may be triggered if I am not careful. I stop in my tracks! The meat! I forgot the damn meat! I take a deep breath and calm myself. Prioritize Rivia, you're already this far! I mentally chastise myself for the foolish mistakes I've been making.

Moving slowly, I continue towards the struggling whelp and when I finally arrive in front of the egg, I kneel and gently engulf the egg in my flames. Now I need to move quickly. I started prying open the shell carefully, taking great care to see if there is any flesh still attached to the shell. I let out a shriek to call my new children to me. As much as I would rather they had not come near me at this exact moment, I must call them to me so that they know I am their desired destination. I need to get this whelp out in time before the others arrive and see that this child may be weak. If they do, the chances of them collectively devouring it may increase astronomically. My fingers tremble as I hear their steps getting closer and closer, their pace made more urgent by my call. I suddenly realized that the whelp is not exactly weak but that the shell is much harder than any I had ever seen before. It is clearly not made from any type of calcium material but instead some form of metallic material...

Finally! The little whelp is freed from the egg! He watches me with beautiful blue eyes that assess my every move. I can see his curiosity as plain as day. His golden scales glowed like warm honey under the light of the fire. I am entranced by his eyes that remind me of the Matsu Islands' blue tears and I momentarily lose focus on the mana skin. At that moment, I finally took notice of a bright amber glow building up in the back of his throat and the rumbling whinnying rattling through his chest. As if in slow motion, I watch as the flame explodes into my face. Immediately, I felt a searing pain in my face. I fight to focus. I cannot risk another injury. The blood, once the imprint is complete, will trigger a frenzy of panic if the whelp senses, smells, or even gets the slightest hint that I am injured. Their natural instincts to both defend me or see me as a source of food will be set ablaze. I feel the warm liquid pooling in my hand, it's about to leak past my palm!