The flight back to his house was aching muscles and a single, repeating thought: a nap. Vireo's landing on the patio in front of his house was less of a graceful glide and more of a controlled fall. His wings felt like heavy blankets, and every scale seemed to be coated in a gritty film of dried salt. He stood there for a moment, just breathing, trying to will the strength back into his legs.
He pushed the heavy door open, wincing as it groaned. The familiar, plain interior was a welcome sight. Xylia was there, sitting at the simple wooden table, meticulously sorting a pile of dried herbs. The sharp, clean scent filled the air. She didn't look up immediately, but he knew she'd registered his arrival.
"You're late," she said. Her voice was as flat.
"Sorry," Vireo mumbled, closing the door as quietly as he could. "Lost track of time."
Xylia finally lifted her head, and her sharp blue eyes swept over him. Her gaze lingered on him. "You reek of the ocean," she stated. "And damp earth."
Vireo's heart gave a little jump. Crap! I forgot to clean myself off. Am I actually stupid!? "We, uh, flew along the coast for a bit. It was a hot day. The sea spray felt good." It was a weak lie, and he knew it.
"Hmm," she hummed, turning back to her herbs. She separated a dark, spiky leaf from the others and placed it in a clay bowl. "You look like you wrestled a Razor-Shark and lost. Your dinner is on the hearth. Eat, then get some rest. You look dreadful."
"Thanks," Vireo grumbled, though he was flooded with relief. No more questions, for now. He picked up the plate of roasted lizards and roots and forced himself to eat, his jaw aching with tiredness. Each bite was an effort. He could barely taste the food. All he could think about was the soft comfort of his sleeping mat.
As soon as he finished, he stumbled into his room. He collapsed onto the mat, not even bothering to properly arrange his wings. He was asleep before he could have a second thought.
Maybe only a few hours later, he couldn't tell, Vireo woke to a world of pain. Every muscle in his wings, arms, legs, and back screamed as he tried to stretch. He felt like he'd been run over by a herd of rock-hogs. He groaned, rolling onto his stomach. He was definitely not built for that kind of flight. Every part of his body was sore.
After forcing down some dinner under his mother's watchful eye, he made an excuse to go out. But he didn't get far. As he walked toward the door, his mother's voice stopped him.
"Stay."
It wasn't a request. Vireo froze, his claw on the door. He turned slowly. Xylia was standing. Her blue eyes were narrowed, and they missed nothing—not the way he favored his right wing, not the stiff set of his shoulders, not the lingering exhaustion in his eyes.
"Don't lie to me again," she cut him off, her tone flat and hard. "The ocean smell. The damp earth, like a jungle floor, not the dusty fields. The exhaustion that comes from more than a day of playing. It comes from a full day of desperate, hard flight." She took a step closer. "It comes from flying over a vast stretch of open water. Twice."
Vireo's blood ran cold. There was no argument he could make. He was caught. He lowered his head, his snout pointed at the floor.
Xylia sighed, a sound that wasn't soft but full of a strange weight. "I had hoped you wouldn't get tangled up in this." She walked towards Vireo, her claws clicking softly on the stone. "That 'dumb group' you think I'm a part of, it is a faction, yes. One loyal to the Ventifact monarchy."
Vireo's head snapped up. The monarchy? His mother was involved in royal business? What was with the lame house then? To lie low and keep enemies from popping up?
"There is a story from an old scroll in the palace archives. It states the existence of Six Monoliths. They could grant a dragon supernatural abilities, the control of science beyond our comprehension. We could destroy the Ocean-Claws or the Volcanic Dragons with it. Power to ensure Ventifact's strength for centuries."
Her voice was hypnotic, and Vireo stood completely still.
"Our best scholars and seers have pinpointed the location of the monoliths," Xylia said, turning to the direction of the door, her blue eyes burning with intensity. "They are on that island."
The words hit Vireo like a physical blow. The tablets. The green and purple markers. They weren't just old rocks. They were the Monoliths.
"The 'hunters' who are allowed to go there," his mother explained, her gaze piercing him, "are not just hunting for food, Vireo. They are searching. They are the monarchy's agents, looking for the monoliths. I knew you were there. So," she continued. "did you see anything that might've even looked like a sort of monolith, or stone like structure?" Her expression was intense.
His heart hammered against his ribs. He had to lie. For Peyote. For Apex and the others. For the little trembling creature now hidden in his friend's house. This faction was to make Ventifact the ultimate power? That's nuts! There was no reason for it. He forced himself to meet his mother's gaze, trying to look only tired and a little foolish.
"No," he said, shaking his head. The lie felt like swallowing sand. "We. we didn't go very deep into the jungle. It was too dense. We mostly just stayed near the beach. We saw some weird plants, and a really big bug, but that's it. Nothing like a big stone tablet."
Xylia studied him for a long moment, her blue eyes seeming to search his very thoughts. Vireo held his breath. Finally, she gave a short, sharp nod, as if accepting his story for now.
"Fine," she said. "But you know now that the island not a playground." She stepped closer, her voice dropping but losing none of its intensity. "Join us, Vireo. You're reckless and you follow that foolish friend of yours into trouble, but you're not stupid. You have good instincts. And you have two very dangerous weapons. I need you to be my eyes and ears among the younger dragons. Find out what they know, what they've heard. Better you go back to that island with a mission and my protection than blundering in blindly again."
This was too insane. She was asking him to spy on his friends. He looked at her determined face and felt a terrible, crushing weight. He couldn't say no. Not without revealing everything. But he couldn't betray his friends either. In that instant, he decided. He would play her game, and his own. He would agree, but his real loyalty would be to the dragons he knew were respectable.
"Okay," Vireo said, his voice quiet but steady. "I'll help you."
A flicker of satisfaction, perhaps even pride, crossed Xylia's face. "Good," she said. "Now, there is one last thing." Her voice dropped even lower. "Your father, Simoom, will be home in a few days."
Vireo's ear plates twitched. He hadn't seen his father in months. He pictured him instantly. Simoom was built like Vireo, all sturdy muscle and tan scales, but where Vireo had inherited his mother's sharp facial structure and his own unique venomous fangs, Simoom's face was blunter, kinder. He had the family's obsidian-black stinger at the end of his tail, just as wicked and curved as Vireo's, but no fangs lined his jaw. Xylia had neither trait. Vireo was a rare mix of inherited genes.
"You will not speak a word of this to him when he comes," Xylia commanded, her eyes locking with his. "This conversation, the Monoliths, my work… nothing. Your father doesn't need to be burdened by this. I never told you before because I knew your fucking immature self would tell him about this. This is our secret. Do you understand? You're old enough to keep secrets, right?" She offered him a talon.
"I understand," Vireo promised, though only on the outside, reaching out to her talon to shake. The lie felt heavy on his body.
"Go," she ordered, turning away to the window, waving her talon. "Wherever you feel like today. It's break from the study hall, after all." She then turned back again, and shot a deadly glare at him. "But if I get any word of you telling this to anyone, I'll have you killed. I will know, trust me. If another faction or nation gets word of this, it's over."
He felt like his body was sinking in sand. No way, he thought. She wouldn't actually kill me would she? This was terrible. Even though he never really liked his mom, he still loved her unconditionally. He never thought she would even consider such a thing! NO! Vireo thought, putting his talons on his head. She's joking, most definitely. I'm sure of it! However, when he looked up to his mother, the expression hadn't changed. She seemed completely serious; or really good at pranking him. The latter didn't seem so likely.