Page 132 of Magical Mission
No matter how much I wanted her close.
No matter how much I missed her laughter in the kitchen, her oversized mugs of tea left everywhere, her ability to turn a two-sentence text into a full therapy session.
She was safer away from here.
That egg, small, round, and faintly glowing beneath the mother’s watchful wings, would hatch soon. I knew that. But not before its time.
The mother dragon wasn’t rushing it.
She wasn’t pushing the shell open early.
She was waiting.
Protecting.
Because that’s what love was in its truest form.
It wasn’t about proximity or control, butprotection.
And the willingness to stay distant if that’s what safety demanded.
Tears slipped quietly down my cheeks, but I didn’t wipe them away. They didn’t sting. They weren’t filled with regret.
Just... understanding.
I let the ache exist and let it stretch alongside the love.
And in that warmth, I whispered, “Thank you.”
The mother dragon didn’t move, but something shifted in the den.
A deeper quiet surfaced amid a pulse of calm.
I stayed a while longer, letting the warmth lull the edges of my exhaustion as my heartbeat slowed, until the ache dulled into something almost peaceful.
Then I stood.
My legs were stiff, my body tired, but my mind, for the first time in days, was clear.
I walked toward the exit, brushing my fingers along the edge of the stone wall.
But before I left, I turned back once more to look at the egg.
Still nestled.
Still whole.
Still safe.
And I whispered, “I understand.”
By the time I left the dragon den, the halls of the Academy had folded entirely into stillness. No murmurs from awakestudents, no drifting book sprites or whispers of candlelight spells.
My legs ached, and my mind hummed with the kind of tired that seeps into the bones.
I padded back to my room with slow steps, each one a little softer as the warmth of the den faded into the cool quiet of the corridor. When I reached my door, I twisted the old brass knob and stepped inside.
The space greeted me like an old friend, and the armchair near the window was draped in my favorite wool shawl. The faint scent of spiced tea from an abandoned tea mug lingered in the air like a forgotten lullaby.
