For a long moment, Ember did not move.
The fire crackled between them, throwing soft orange light across the cabin walls. Outside, the forest had gone quiet, but Kai barely noticed. His attention was locked on Ember’s face.
He had expected anger.
He had not expected her to look like he had wounded her.
“I think… I need to tell you to go home,” Kai said again, quieter this time.
Ember stared at him.
Then her expression turned cold.
“No.”
Kai blinked.
“Ember—”
“No.”
“You didn’t even let me explain.”
“You told me to leave.”
“I said go home.”
“That is leaving.”
Kai opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
That was technically true.
The system window flickered into view beside him.
[Emotional response detected.]
Kai frowned.
“Yeah, I noticed.”
Ember’s eyes sharpened.
“What did it say?”
“It said emotional response detected.”
Ember glared at the empty air beside him.
“It is foolish.”
Kai sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not trying to get rid of you.”
“You are telling me to go somewhere you are not.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t want you here.”
“It means the same thing.”
“It really doesn’t.”
“It does to me.”
Kai stopped.
The words were simple, but they landed hard.
Ember stood near the fire, ears angled back, tail completely still. Her wings were folded tightly behind her, the dark membranes catching the firelight like polished leather. Her whole body looked tense, like she was ready to fight him, the system, the cabin, and possibly the entire forest if they got in her way.
Kai tried to think of a better way to say it.
Unfortunately, thinking before speaking had never been his strongest talent.
“I just thought maybe you should visit your mother.”
Ember went still.
Too still.
Kai noticed that he had said something important, but he had no idea whether it was important in a good way or an extremely bad way.
“Mother,” Ember repeated.
“Yeah,” Kai said carefully. “You mentioned her before. She’s probably worried, right?”
Ember’s eyes narrowed.
“My mother does not worry.”
Kai blinked.
“She’s your mom.”
“She worries differently.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means if she thinks I am dead, she will burn half the mountain range searching for what killed me.”
Kai stared.
“That sounds like worry.”
“It is not the same.”
“It sounds very similar.”
Ember’s tail lashed once.
Kai held up his hands.
“Okay, bad wording. But that’s exactly my point. If your mother cares that much, shouldn’t she know you’re alive?”
Ember looked away.
That was the first sign he might have gotten through to her.
So, of course, Kai kept going.
“I’m not saying you have to stay there. Just visit. Once you can transform back into a dragon, you could go see your mother, show her you’re okay, then come back.”
Ember looked at him sharply.
“Come back?”
Kai blinked.
“Yeah. Obviously.”
Some of the tension in her face shifted.
Not gone.
Never gone.
But less murderous.
The system chimed.
[Bond resonance increasing.]
[Attachment pattern intensifying.]
Kai glanced at it.
“Not the time.”
“What did it say?” Ember asked.
“Nothing useful.”
“It never does.”
“Agreed.”
The screen flickered again.
[Dragon-form restoration required for safe return.]
Kai pointed at the words.
“See? Even the system says you need your dragon form before you go.”
Ember stared at the glowing window.
Then, slowly, something in her expression changed.
It was small.
Almost invisible.
But Kai saw her eyes sharpen with thought.
“My dragon form,” she said.
“Right.”
“I cannot visit Mother without it.”
“Exactly.”
“If I went like this, she would ask why.”
Kai nodded. “That makes sense.”
“And if others saw me before I returned properly, they might think I had weakened.”
“Also bad.”
“Very bad.”
Kai sat down near the fire, relieved that she was finally listening.
“So we’ll focus on that first. You learn how to transform back, then you visit your mother.”
Ember looked at him.
“And until I can transform?”
Kai shrugged.
“You stay here.”
The words had barely left his mouth before Ember’s tail moved.
Just once.
A slow, satisfied curl behind her.
Kai did not notice.
The system did.
[Warning: Motivational alignment unclear.]
Kai frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Ember stepped closer.
“What did it say?”
“It said motivational alignment unclear.”
“Your system speaks nonsense.”
“Usually, yeah.”
“It means I stay until I can transform. That is clear.”
Kai nodded.
“That’s what I thought.”
Ember sat beside him, closer than necessary.
Much closer.
Her shoulder pressed against his arm, and one of her wings shifted behind him, half covering his back like a dark, warm curtain.
Kai glanced at it.
“You know your wing is on me, right?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Just checking.”
“It is comfortable.”
“For who?”
“Me.”
Kai sighed.
That was apparently the only answer that mattered.
Ember looked into the fire, face calm now.
“My wings are fine,” she said suddenly.
Kai blinked.
“What?”
She spread them slightly, just enough for the firelight to trace the sharp lines of bone and membrane.
“My wings. These wings. They carry me. They obey me. They are mine.”
“I didn’t say they weren’t.”
“You looked at them like they were part of the problem.”
“I looked at them because one is currently using me as furniture.”
“That is not a problem.”
“It kind of is.”
“No.”
Kai gave up on that battle immediately.
Ember folded her wings again, though she left one still resting behind him.
“I do not need to become a dragon because I hate this form,” she said. “This form is useful. It fits inside the cabin. It lets me stay beside you.”
Kai’s face warmed slightly.
“Right.”
“But Mother must see me properly.”
“As a dragon?”
“Yes.”
“Because she’ll respect that more?”
Ember gave him a look.
“Because if I appear before Mother, I do not crawl back half-ready.”
Kai frowned.
“You’re not crawling anywhere.”
“It is a saying.”
“Still sounds harsh.”
“My mother is harsh.”
“Yeah, I’m getting that.”
Ember’s expression shifted, not quite soft, but close.
“She taught me to fly before my scales had fully hardened.”
Kai leaned back.
“That sounds nice.”
“She pushed me from a cliff.”
Kai froze.
“She what?”
“She caught me.”
“That feels like an important part to say immediately.”
“She said fear teaches wings quickly.”
Kai stared at her.
“Your mother is terrifying.”
“Yes.”
“You say that like it’s a compliment.”
“It is.”
Kai shook his head.
Dragon families were officially insane.
The next morning, they trained behind the cabin.
At least, Kai called it training.
Ember called it “being asked obvious questions by someone who has never had a proper tail.”
Kai chose to ignore that.
She stood in the center of the clearing, wings loose behind her and tail swaying lazily. The morning sun caught the red in her hair and the dark curve of her horns. She looked entirely comfortable in her current body, which made Kai feel a little dumb for assuming otherwise.
“So,” Kai said, sitting on a fallen log, “if you’re happy like this, why is transforming so hard?”
Ember looked at him like he had asked why the sky was above them.
“Because this body is mine now too.”
Kai frowned.
“That doesn’t explain anything.”
“It explains enough.”
“It really doesn’t.”
Ember sighed, as if burdened by his lack of basic intelligence.
“My dragon form is not gone. But this form is no longer a disguise. It is part of me. Switching back requires remembering the shape without rejecting this one.”
Kai blinked.
“That was actually helpful.”
“I am often helpful.”
“You threatened soup yesterday.”
“The soup was suspicious.”
Kai decided to move on.
“Okay. Then think about your dragon form. Not because this form is bad, but because your mother needs to see you properly.”
Ember closed her eyes.
For a few minutes, nothing happened.
Then the air changed.
Heat rolled through the clearing. Her wings spread wider, catching the wind. The shadow behind her grew larger than it should have been.
Kai sat up straighter.
For one moment, something enormous flickered around her.
A dragon.
Massive wings. Curved horns. A long body wrapped in power and flame.
Then it vanished.
Ember opened her eyes and clicked her tongue.
“Not enough.”
Kai checked the system as it appeared.
[Dragon-form stability increased.]
“How much?” Ember demanded.
“Six percent.”
Her expression darkened.
“Six.”
“It’s progress.”
“It is slow.”
“It’s only the first real day.”
“That is why it is slow.”
Kai stared at her.
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“It makes enough sense.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
Ember walked over and sat beside him. Her tail looped around his ankle like it belonged there.
Kai looked down.
“Ember.”
“Yes?”
“Your tail.”
“Yes.”
“It’s around my leg.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“So you do not leave while I am thinking.”
“I wasn’t going anywhere.”
“Then it should not bother you.”
Kai opened his mouth, then closed it.
Once again, technically, she had a point.
The system chimed.
[Attachment pattern intensifying.]
Kai looked at the screen.
“I know.”
Ember tilted her head.
“What did it say?”
“That you’re getting clingier.”
“I am not.”
Kai looked at the tail around his ankle.
Ember followed his gaze.
“This is practical.”
“How?”
“You are close.”
“That’s not what practical means.”
“It is to me.”
Kai sighed.
This training was going to take much longer than he thought.
And the worst part was, Ember seemed completely fine with that.