Page 52 of Tempest Blazing
"The dragon shifter," Draven said, his usual smooth composure cracking slightly. "The one from the legends. The only one who ever existed."
Mason's mug hit the counter with a sharp crack. "That's impossible. He's a myth. The Reaper is just a story parents tell—" He stopped, staring at Ciaran with dawning horror. "Holy shit."
"The Reaper," Kane added, his analytical mind clearly racing. "The shadow dragon who could become fae, who disappeared into legend centuries ago."
I felt my stomach drop as understanding dawned. We'd seen him transform. I'd been too overwhelmed to fully process it—that Ciaran hadn't just called a dragon to help us. Hewasthe dragon.
I turned to Ciaran, my heart pounding. He hadn't moved, hadn't flinched. Just stood there watching me with those silver eyes, waiting.
"Is it true?"
For a long moment, he just stood there, shadows seeming to writhe around him even in the bright kitchen light. Then he nodded once, sharp and decisive.
"Long ago," he said, his voice carrying the weight of centuries, "my dragon and I performed a forbidden spell. We became one being instead of two. Veldor and I—we're not bonded. We're the same person."
The implications hit me like a physical blow. A dragon shifter. Not someone who rode dragons or was bonded to one, but someone whowasa dragon. The only one in existence.
"The legends say you disappeared," Mason said, still sounding stunned. "That you went mad from the isolation."
Something dark and painful flickered across Ciaran's face. "I didn't go mad. But I did disappear. Had to. The spell we performed—it changed everything. Made me something that didn't fit in either world."
"Until now," Draven said quietly, understanding dawning in his voice. "Until Tess."
Before I could ask what he meant, Ciaran's eyes changed. The silver deepened, became more metallic, more alien. When he spoke again, the voice that came out wasn't quite his—deeper, older, carrying an authority that made my dragon sense sit up and take notice.
"Hello, little rider."
The words didn't just form in my mind—they crashed through it like a tidal wave of ice and starlight. My breath caught as pressure built behind my temples, not painful but overwhelming, like standing too close to a waterfall. The air itself seemed to thicken, charged with an electric tension that made my skin prickle and my magic stir restlessly.
This wasn't telepathy like Thalon's warm, familiar presence. This was something ancient and vast pressing against the edges of my consciousness, carefully controlled but so powerful I could taste copper on my tongue.
"I am Veldorionth. Veldor, if you prefer. I have wanted to meet you since the moment you bonded with Thalasiandor."
"Veldor," I whispered, and saw Ciaran's—Veldor's—lips curve in a smile that was both familiar and completely alien.
"You are everything I hoped for, and nothing like I expected. Your dragon chose well."
The presence in my mind was like standing at the edge of an infinite cavern, the darkness so deep it had weight. This was what a dragon felt like when they weren't holding back, when they weren't carefully moderating their power for human sensibilities. Raw. Primal. Older than kingdoms.
"The Harbingers fear you, little rider. And they should. You represent change, evolution, the breaking down of barriers they've spent centuries building. With the Reaper at yourside..."A pause, heavy with ancient satisfaction."They will learn that some prey fights back."
The words hung in the air like a promise—or a threat. The temperature around us seemed to drop another degree, and I could swear I saw shadows moving independently of their sources, responding to Veldor's presence like living things.
Then the presence withdrew abruptly, leaving me gasping as the pressure in my head released. The sudden absence was almost as jarring as the contact had been, like stepping from a thunderstorm into perfect silence.
Ciaran's eyes returned to their normal silver. He blinked slowly, as if coming back from somewhere very far away.
Draven was staring at Ciaran like he was seeing him for the first time. "The Reaper," he said again, shaking his head. "I feel significantly more confident about keeping Tess safe from the Harbingers now."
Kane nodded slowly, his strategic mind clearly recalculating everything. "This changes the entire dynamic. If they know who you are—"
"They don't," Ciaran said firmly. "And we're going to keep it that way, for now. The element of surprise is too valuable to waste."
The mate bond pulsed with Mason's steady presence, grounding me in the moment. Around the table, I could feel the shift in energy—not fear, but a kind of awed determination. We weren't just a group of supernatural beings trying to keep one human safe anymore.
We were something else entirely. Something the Harbingers wouldn't see coming.
And judging by the predatory gleam that still lingered in Ciaran's silver eyes, they were going to learn exactly why some legends were worth fearing.
