The silence that followed Callum's transformation stretched long enough for a small bird to land on James's shoulder, apparently deciding the humans were no longer the most interesting thing in the clearing.
Two dragons now flanked Draven in the stone circles. Both were unmistakably Callum—same midnight-blue scales shot through with silver, same piercing violet eyes—but their body language couldn't have been more different.
The dragon on the left stood with military precision, wings folded with geometric exactness, head held high with the bearing of ancient authority.
The dragon on the right lounged with casual elegance, one wing draped artfully over a rock formation, tail swishing in lazy S-patterns.
"Fascinating," Marcus observed, his hearing picking up what sounded suspiciously like an argument conducted in low dragon growls.
"Is Callum... talking to himself?" Samantha whispered, adjusting Baby Nova in her arms as the infant stared at the twin dragons with obvious delight.
