In Part 3 (Ch. 18-25), our narrator became more comfortable with what she is, now that she knows it. She’s still not ready to fight to survive, but she’s ready to learn how, even if that means telling other people.
I think it’s time to tell my family. It’s pretty likely that I’m gonna be on the news again, especially if they notice what Jess did. And if I’m gonna learn how to fight, then it’s either from other Dragons—which is not what I want at all—or from the university or Defense Force, which requires at least communicating with people besides Shannon while in dragon form. And well before I do that, I should tell my family. Dad might not realize that I am the Dragon simply because of the time overlap of me being out and the Dragon flying around, but I think combat training is usually in the middle of the day.
As for who to tell first, Al is probably as good a choice as any. I already trust him with my “trip to the forest” schedule, and he can probably help when I talk with Mom and Dad. And how to tell him…? Well, everyone is still asleep, so I have some time to think.
Although Al took a long time to get up, he’s still the first down in the kitchen for breakfast. Perfect. I follow his footsteps quietly, then grab a cup and fill it with water from the sink. And then I freeze it, but slowly enough that it won’t damage the glass. Lessons learned from the textbook also called the Mymoir.
“Good morning, Al,” I greet him.
“You’re up early,” he responds. “Did you sleep through your travel time?”
I shake my head. “No. Just didn’t go back to sleep. Here; for you.” I hand him the frozen glass of water. As expected, he immediately tries to take a sip.
“What?” he asks the ice stuck to the inside of the cup. I take the cup from his unresisting hand and put it top-down into a bowl. There’s a thunk when the ice drops as I thaw a thin layer around the edge of the ice before removing the cup. Then I force the rest of the ice to melt rapidly and heat close to boiling in the glass bowl. The whole trick takes only a small fraction of my magic, but it’s unmistakably magic.
Al looks at the steam, then at me, then… all over the kitchen. “Is one of your friends hiding in here, or—?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “No, Al.”
He stands up and looks out the window. Annoyed, I ask, “I know the dishes are glass, but do I need to re-freeze the water to clunk you harder?”
He turns around and looks me over. “Wait—you did that?”
I cover my eyes and sigh. “Yes.”
“I thought the test said you were Static.”
I interject before he can continue, “It’s something else.” While we were taught about Aspect and Soul magic in school, I doubt he paid attention to the lesson. I barely did, and only remembered when I saw it in the Mymoir. Because while I do like learning most things, hearing about two types of magic where you can’t use either doesn’t make for the most interesting of lessons.
Instead, I go more direct. “Have you heard about how blue dragons use fire and ice magic?”
“Maybe?” He looks and sounds totally lost.
I move to stand right in front of him, our feet nearly touching. “Look at my eyes.”
Al stares at me for a second before blinking. “You changed your eye color?”
I shake my head. “Not by choice. It’s part of being a Dragon.”
He takes a step back. “The Dragon did this to you?” Sounds like it wasn’t just Dad that thought I was meeting with a Dragon.
I take a deep breath. “How directly do I have to say it? I—”
“You’re the Dragon? But—Dragons are monsters! And big!” He holds his hands an arm span apart to emphasize his last point.
“Jess can turn into a bird,” I retort.
“They’re still monsters.”
I sigh. “People call them monsters because they don’t know much about Dragons. Before you get any ideas, I’m not a Mage. Dragons are something else entirely. I can use some magic kinda like how a Mage can, but I’m still Static.” And I have learned that my tolerance for new information is a lot higher than most other people’s, so I stop there and wait for him.
He holds out a finger, thinking. “So, you’re a Dragon… but—did you just get the spell to transform or something? ‘Cause it’s not like we’ve had a little Dragon flying around.”
“Dragons are one size, just like how Jess is an adult gyrfalcon.” I expect her spell would be a lot worse if it wasn’t automatically an adult. She wouldn’t have been able to fly at all when she first got it. At least, I don’t think so. Birds age quickly.
Al takes a deep breath. “I have more questions, but first, why are you telling me all this anyway? If this wasn’t a secret, they’d teach it in school.”
I match his breath. “I need to learn how to fight. As a Dragon. Like, while I’m big and scaly.”
“Why do you need to fight?”
“Most of the other Dragons hate me. For ruining their reputation of being terrifying.” That’s not the whole story, but it’s certainly part of it. Why else would they have no tolerance for new Dragons refusing to do the same as they all do? It’s not like they’re all the same person, but I expect people being afraid of Dragons doesn’t work well if word gets out about friendly ones.
Al smiles down at me. “Well, if there’s a reputation you’d ruin, that’s it.”
“I can be scary!” I pout.
Al laughs. “I’m not a wolf. You’re my little sister, and you’re adorable.”
“Say that again when I’m a giant blue dragon.”
He grins broadly. “I can and I will, if you let me see it.”
Mom’s voice surprises me from behind. “What are you two arguing about?”
“I—he—” I stammer.
“Whether Emilie has the ability to intimidate anyone.” Al ruffles my hair, and my frown deepens in frustration.
“Why would you want to be frightening?” Mom asks me as she moves into the room.
“I don’t, I—” I huff. “Some really strong people are gonna come here and kill me because I’m not mean like them,” I mumble.
Now it’s Mom’s turn to frown. “What?”
“Most Dragons say that Dragons have to be mean and they hunt and kill the ones who disagree,” I reply a little louder.
“And she’s worried because her Dragon was in the newspaper,” my until-then unnoticed father adds.
“I was in the newspaper!” I correct him.
Dad’s brow furrows. “You—what?”
Al answers for me. “She transforms. Like Jess.”
“But she’s not a Mage.”
“It’s something different.”
“I didn’t wanna tell you because I thought I could hide it,” I clarify. “But that failed and then I didn’t know what to say.”
“So, how’d we have a Dragon in the house all these years and not know about it?” Dad asks.
I shrug. “I couldn’t use the magic and didn’t know I had it.”
“When’d you find out?”
“When she refused to visit the library,” Mom guesses correctly.
“That’s not long ago at all,” Dad observes. “How long until these other Dragons show up?”
“I have no idea. One lives in Georgia,” I answer.
“Then we’d better get to work.”