I stared at my dad, my brain struggling to keep up. I wished he could just get on with what the problem was already.
"We knew this day would come. The day you turn eighteen," he said, his voice full of something heavy, and final.
Was all this tension about my birthday? Or could there be something more? A weird shiver crawled down my spine.
"Okay? Well, that's tomorrow, so what's the big deal?"
I was only turning eighteen not hundred. There isn't anything special about it. It only meant I was turning into an adult, nothing more.
My mom swallowed hard. "It doesn't matter. It's already happening."
Now, that's vague. Could they just quit the encrypted messages and cut off the chase. I was tired of it already.
I frowned. "What's already happening?"
They didn't answer right away and it irritated me. I love my parents, but sometimes they made me want to pull my hair in frustration.
My dad rubbed a hand down his face like he was preparing for something impossible. My mom looked like she was on the verge of tears.
Their dramatics was killing me and I felt my patience wearing thin. So I walked deeper into the room, staring pointedly at the both of them.
"Dad," I pressed, my pulse spiking. "What is going on?"
Another loaded glance between them and I gulped waiting for them to explain. I didn't have a clue what was going on, but from their reactions, I figured it was bad. Very bad.
Then my dad sighed. "Nova… you're not human."
I blinked. Then I blinked again. A slow, almost stunned laugh escaped me. "Excuse me?"
So, this was what all the theatrics was about? I'm not human. What kind of bullshit is that?
But when I looked at their faces, expecting humor and seeing none, I knew something was up.
My mom reached for me, but I jerked back. "Please, honey, we need you to listen."
I shook my head, a strange pressure building behind my ribs. "Listen to this crap? That's ridiculous."
I was never one to talk smart to my parents. Okay I do that on few occasions but I never really crossed the line.
But their current behavior was making me rethink the whole thing. What sort of game are they playing at?
My dad's mouth was set in a grim line. "It's the truth."
I let out a harsh breath. "You're telling me that for eighteen years, I've been walking around thinking I was normal, and now, all of a sudden, I'm not human? What am I then? A vampire? A fairy?" I laughed, sharp and humorless.
Maybe they will even tell me I was a bloody hydra. Though that would've been too off.
But the point is, this was nothing but a sick joke. If I wasn't human, then what the hell was I? I for one haven't seen any weird creatures aside humans.
My dad didn't flinch. "A dragon."
Silence. Thick and suffocating like he dropped a bomb. Then I snorted unable to hold it back. "A dragon?"
How crazy could that be? The very thing they said was a figment of my imagination?
"Nova—"
"This is a joke, right?" I cut in, looking between them, waiting for the punchline.
Neither of them laughed. They just stared back at me with thesame uneasiness in their eyes.
A cold wave of fear and disbelief washed over me as I tried to get my tongue moving.
I took a step back. "You guys have officially lost it."
That was the only explanation for this madness they were spouting to me. A dragon? For real?
"Nova, please," my mom pleaded. "We should've told you sooner. We thought we had more time—"
"Well, you should've kept this delusion to yourselves!" I snapped. "Because I'm done. I'm going to bed."
All this time I've spoken about dragons, they shot me down. Now they are telling me I was what? The very thing they refused to believe existed.
"Nova, at least have dinner with us before you go to bed." My mother called after me
"I'm not hungry," I threw over my shoulder as I stormed upstairs.
I barely made it to my room before slamming the door shut. My heart was pounding, my mind racing.
A dragon? It was insane. Impossible.
Right? I forgot my bag downstairs. In no mood to go back for it, have a shower or even change out of my clothes, I fell on my bed.
I squeezed my eyes shut as I let the tiredness in my bone consume me. Just sleep. This will all go away in the morning.
But sleep didn't come easily.
And when it did, the dream came with it.
—
Heat.
The air was thick with it, pressing against my skin like an extra layer. Flames roared around me, licking at the sky, filling my lungs with smoke.
I was running. No—flying.
Wind ripped through me, beneath me, around me.
A deep voice echoed through the fire.
"Nova."
I twisted, searching for the source. "Who's there?"
"Wake up."
The fire moved, swallowing me whole.
—
I woke up gasping—except I wasn't in my bed.
The cold air hit me first. Then the smell—burnt wood, smoke, ash.
My body felt wrong. Heavy, hot. And then I looked down.
Gold.
My hands—claws—gleamed in the wee hours of daylight, each scale molten gold, shimmering with heat. Smoke curled from my lips.
My breath hitched.
Then I saw the trees—or what was left of them. It was like an angry wildfire swept through this place, burning woods to crisp.
Charred trunks, smoldering wood, blackened earth.
I took a shaking step forward, the ground crunching beneath my claws.
No. No, no, no. It can't be. What happened to me? How could I be…
I couldn't even finish the thought. But one thing was certain as the fire around me cooled off. I wasn't just in the fire.
I was the source of the fire.