The Fractured Soul

There were days when uncertainty swallowed Nathan whole. A phantom ache lingered in his arm, a lingering memory of the sharp, sudden break. Sometimes, out of nowhere, he’d remember the sharp crack of bone or the sting at his scalp, as if his body refused to forget. The rhythmic creak of the swing set faded beneath the high-pitched chirps and roars of the dragons and hatchlings some distance away.

And unbeknownst to him, a dragon had been watching.

From afar, she noticed the small, lonely figure on the swings, her heart twisting with a recurring ache. It was strange, this pull she felt toward him—a human child, fragile and scarred. She knew the look; guarded wariness, borne of early betrayal. A quiet instinct stirred inside her, fierce and unshakable: he needed protection. She longed to curl her paws protectively around him, a visible barrier against unseen shadows.

She remembered the first time she’d seen him. A toddler, shivering on a cold, gray day, clinging to a Kitsuné’s hand. Even so, his eyes held the same haunted look, the same quiet fear. On that day, she perceived a vulnerability in him, something delicate and wounded by life’s hardships. She had followed his growth, noting wariness harden into paranoia, and she had long wondered if he would ever let someone reach him again.

Now, as she drew closer, his scent filled her nostrils—tinged with an additional element, a wild and untamed fragrance. It whispered to her instincts, awakening the deep protectiveness that had simmered inside her since she first glimpsed him from the skies. She moved gently, dipping her head low, letting her eyes soften to meet his. Her heartbeat quickened, deep and steady, a silent promise.

She wouldn’t let him face the world alone.

However, Nathan had never seen her before. The horse-sized dragon was an imposing figure, her dark silhouette stark against the playground’s light. To him, she did not differ from the ones he’d heard about in hushed, fearful whispers—monsters that stole away those who strayed too close. His pulse quickened as she approached, panic clawing at his chest. The dragon noticed me! His mind raced, a whirlwind of images flashing before his eyes. I should run. What if she takes off with me in her grasp? His stomach clenched, but he forced himself to stay still, to keep his voice from shaking.

“What do you want?” The words came out sharper than he intended, but he hoped she couldn’t hear the tremor beneath them. The dragon said nothing. Instead, with deliberate slowness, she gracefully extended her forelegs, a silent beckoning. Nathan’s body tensed up as he felt a shiver run down his spine. No. He knew better than to trust something so large, so powerful. His voice cracked as he shook his head. “You’ll just fly away with me. I... I know your kind too well.”

She didn’t flinch at his fear. Didn’t retreat. Instead, the sound of her measured steps echoed softly as she closed the distance between them. Before he could pull away, she gathered him into her grasp—gentle, but unyielding—and held him close against the warmth of her chest.

Pressed against her, Nathan felt the constant thump of her heartbeat—a rhythm strong and sure. The sound grounded him, steadying his own racing pulse. Her scales, rough beneath his cheek and cool like river stones, should have felt foreign. Instead, their tender touch and comforting embraces provided him with a sense of security. A strange calm wrapped around him, not unlike a memory—a forgotten element, a piece of himself he hadn’t known he was missing.

Her wings stretched wide, catching the wind as she lifted off the ground. He tensed at first, his breath hitching, but she moved with effortless grace, each wingbeat steady and controlled. They weren’t ascending high into the sky, weren’t departing—just drifting toward the gathering of dragons. Nathan’s grip tightened as they descended, his fingers curling instinctively against her scales. The sight below made his stomach twist—a sea of massive bodies, glinting horns, and watchful eyes. But the bitter taste of rejection he braced for never arrived; instead, a strange calmness settled on his tongue.

The earth yielded slightly beneath her weight as her claws found purchase with practiced ease. The moment her feet touched the ground, the other dragons shifted—not in fear or repudiation, but in quiet acknowledgment. Their massive forms made space for her, for him. His shallow breaths hitched against her chest, a soft, unsteady rhythm. The low rumbles of conversation surrounded him, their meaning unknown, yet… there was something in their tone. Something softer. Warmer. And he wasn’t sure why, but the tension in his shoulders eased.

They weren’t looking at him with suspicion. They weren’t turning away.

The quiet acceptance settled into his bones, unfamiliar yet strangely right. And for the first time in a long while, Nathan let himself believe—just a little—that he wasn’t alone.

He remained nestled against April’s chest as she settled among the other dragons. The ground beneath them was soft with upturned soil, warm where the sun touched and cool in the shadows of towering wings. Though he didn’t understand their speech, the deep, rolling murmurs around him carried a weight that was neither threatening nor dismissive. The dragons spoke, their voices like distant thunder softened by a summer breeze—low, measured, almost gentle.

They weren’t looking at him like he was an intruder.

Nathan clung to that thought, uncertain whether to believe it. He’d never before experienced being surrounded by so many creatures, being held this way, or being acknowledged as anything other than an oddity. The dragons’ presence should have been suffocating, but instead, it was… grounding. He found himself relaxing, just a little. April’s warmth surrounded him, her steady heartbeat still beneath his ear. He closed his eyes, just for a moment, letting himself breathe in the scent of earth and wind, of something ancient yet familiar.

Then, a voice cut through the murmurs to the dragon, low and thoughtful.

“Sad to see him all alone, isn’t it, April?” one dragon murmured, her gaze lingering on the boy nestled in her companion’s arms.

“He’s had a hard start,” April replied, her voice laced with sorrow. “I’ve watched over him since he was a toddler. The wounds from his past may not show, but they’ve left deep scars.”

Her wings twitched, an instinctive urge to shield him from everything—even the soft, curious gazes of the other dragons. A low rumble stirred in her throat, protective, primal. She swallowed it down, but the need to claim him, to keep him safe, lingered. She nuzzled him, her warm breath washing over his skin, hoping he would understand. You are mine. And, in a way, he already was.

“Who are his parents?” the other dragon asked, her curiosity piqued. “It’s rare to see a Western child dressed in Eastern clothing—especially around here.”

“He was adopted by a family of kitsunés. They love him, I can see that. But I wonder…” April hesitated, her gaze darkening. “Will they come for him if they think I’ve taken him? I’m not sure I want to find out.”

The boy stirred in her grasp, shifting to look at the other dragon just as she lowered her snout and nuzzled his chest affectionately. He stiffened, uncertainty flickering in his wide eyes.

“Still wary of us,” the first dragon observed with a soft chuckle.

“He’s sure about me, though,” April said, her voice quiet but firm.

Before the moment could settle, the school bell rang in the distance. Nathan wriggled free, his small hands pressing against her scales as he pulled away. Without a word, he dashed toward the school building, disappearing into the sea of children. April’s arms felt strangely empty.

“You’ve got a keeper,” the other dragon mused, her gaze following his retreating figure. “He’s fond of you.”

April smiled, though a quiet longing ached beneath it. “You may be right,” she murmured. “He’d make a perfect little hatchling. My mate would adore him.”

Nathan was home not long after, gazing out the window, his thoughts lingering on the dragon, whose warmth had somehow quieted the storm inside him. The memory of her steady heartbeat, the way she had held him like he belonged—it all felt too vivid, too real to be just a passing moment. And while lost in his swirl of daydreams, he jumped when a voice snapped him back to the present.

“Nathan, you okay? You look like you’re a million miles away.” Amber’s voice was lighthearted, but there was a glint of concern in her eyes. She flopped onto the couch beside him, studying his face. “I haven’t seen you this distracted since pre-K.”

Nathan forced a grin, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m fine, really. Just... a lot swirling around up here.” He gave her a half-hearted shrug before turning his gaze back outside.

Amber followed his line of sight, and her smile softened. “The dragon resting in the front yard tells a different story.” Nathan stiffened. His fingers curled slightly against his knees. She’s here? But before he could think too much about it, Amber stood and pulled him into a warm hug. “Come on,” she whispered. “We’ve got something special for you.”

Nathan followed her into the living room, where something strange was sprawled across the table. A suit—his size, yet remarkably lifelike, the fur sleek and natural. It looked like a fox, though it had only a single tail, unlike the Kitsunés around him.

“Well? What do you think?”

Nathan picked it up cautiously. The fabric was unlike anything he’d ever felt—soft yet alive, shifting subtly against his fingers. He swallowed. “Thanks for the… Kitsuné suit, I guess?”

Kyle, another Kitsuné, grinned. “It’s as close to being one of us as you’ll get without an actual transformation. Try him on.”

Nathan blinked. “Him?” At first, the suit was still in his hands. Then—it moved. He barely held back a yelp as the fabric squirmed, twisting and tightening, as if responding to his touch. His instinct was to drop it, but before he could, it slithered up his arms and across his body, slipping beneath his shirt. The sensation was both foreign and familiar—like wearing a second skin, yet being embraced at the same time. His breath hitched as it continued.

Then, a voice. Inside his mind. “You are young, but there is something untapped within you,” it murmured.

Nathan’s heart pounded. The suit pulsed against his skin, and suddenly, a tingling warmth flowed from his fingertips. The air around him shimmered. He could feel it—the magic—like static just beneath his skin, waiting. Amber took his hands gently, grounding him before the sensation could overwhelm him. “I knew you had something special the first time I saw you,” she said, her voice rich with encouragement. The glow around his hands dimmed as she steadied his focus. “Now, let’s see what you can do.”

Nathan exhaled slowly, concentrating. He extended a hand toward a small object on the table—a stray book—and willed it forward. The magic responded, clumsy but eager, and the book slid into his grasp. He stared at what he just did, wide-eyed. “Okay… that’s a lot to take in.” The suit felt even more alive now, its energy thrumming beneath his skin. He ran a hand over its fur, feeling not fabric, but something deeper—an extension of himself, yet something distinctly other.

Kyle chuckled. “We’ll give you time to adjust. Why don’t you two get acquainted while we start dinner?”

As his adoptive parents moved toward the kitchen, Nathan turned toward his room, his mind racing. He had a lot to figure out. And by the time he closed the door behind him, one thing was certain: his world had just changed forever.

While examining the living suit on his body, Nathan heard a soft tapping on his bedroom window. His breath caught as it rang out on the glass. She knows I’m here. The dragon stood outside, bathed in silver moonlight, her golden eyes locked onto him. She lifted a claw, beckoning him forward. Unlike their last encounter, where uncertainty had gripped him, this time was different. There was no fear—only an unceasing pull, a feeling deep in his chest that whispered go. Yet he hesitated, glancing back toward the kitsunés in the kitchen. Amber was laughing at something Kyle had said, their presence warm and familiar. They had been good to him. Saved him when he had no one. Loved him. But April was out there, waiting. Her heartbeat still echoed in his chest, steady and sure.

Nathan lifted a hand to the suit, willing it to uncover his face so she would recognize him. But instead, it pulsed against his skin, resisting. “No,” it said, its voice firm but calm. “You need more time to acclimate.”

Nathan frowned. “But she needs to see me.”

“She already knows who you are.”

The dragon outside beckoned again, and Nathan couldn’t hold back anymore. He exhaled slowly, then moved. Just one night, he promised himself. One night to see if this feeling—the one he couldn’t shake—means something more. With one last glance at the kitsunés, he pushed the window open and climbed out into April’s waiting arms.

April tensed slightly as he landed against her chest. He had come to her willingly. Yet for a brief moment, she hesitated, unsure of what had just entered her grasp. But then—his scent hit her, strong and familiar. Recognition dawned in her golden eyes. Her grip firmed as she curled her body around him, bringing him close enough for his ear to rest against her chest. The steady thump of her heartbeat filled his senses. Nathan melted against her. His pulse slowed to match hers, his breath steadying. Her scales were cool, but the warmth of her presence wrapped around him, sinking into his bones.

The living suit shifted slightly. “This feeling... it’s odd,” it murmured, its voice tinged with curiosity. “Nathan, what’s going on?”

Nathan ignored it. Everything else—the world, the worries, the weight of who he was supposed to be—dissolved in her embrace.

April exhaled slowly, lowering her head. “Why did you come to me, little one?”

Nathan swallowed hard. He didn’t have an answer. Or maybe he had too many. And all for a question he felt yet didn’t hear. The kitsunés had given him a home, safety, love. But April had reached into something deeper, something he hadn’t even known was missing.

His fingers curled against her scales. What am I? His gaze flickered back toward the open window of his room, where the warm glow of the Kitsuné home spilled into the night. The scent of cooking lingered in the air. The distant sound of Amber’s laughter. That’s home, isn’t it? But here, wrapped in April’s arms, this felt like home too. His heart twisted painfully.

The suit stirred against his skin. “Nathan.” Its voice was quieter now. “You feel it too, don’t you?”

He did. And all the while, April studied him, her golden eyes unreadable. “You’re trembling.” Nathan didn’t realize he was.

A gust of wind swept past them, rustling the leaves, carrying the scent of damp earth and starlit sky. April let out a slow breath, tightening her hold. “I won’t take you away,” she murmured. “I only wanted to see you again. But if you wish to return, I will not stop you.”

The choice was his, even if he didn’t know it. Nathan’s hands clenched slightly. He had told himself one night—but what if one night wasn’t enough?

Meanwhile, Kyle stirred the pot absentmindedly, the scent of simmering broth filling the kitchen. But something nagged at him—a quiet instinct, a whisper of unease. He wiped his hands on a towel and made his way toward Nathan’s room.

The door was open, the bed empty, and the window—wide open.

Kyle’s stomach dropped.

He rushed to the window, eyes scanning the yard—and there, curled against a dragon’s chest, was Nathan. April’s wings draped around him protectively, her tail curled just enough to shield his small form from the cool night air. Nathan lay still in her grasp, eyes half-lidded, calm in a way Kyle had never seen before.

A growl rumbled low in Kyle’s throat. April heard it, and her golden gaze flicked up to meet his, unwavering.

Kyle stepped forward, his hands gripping the window frame. “What are you doing?” His voice was sharp, controlled—but his fur bristled, his ears flattened against his skull. April tightened her hold on Nathan. Her chest rumbled—not a snarl, not a threat, but a warning. Kyle’s eyes narrowed in response. “I won’t let you take him.” Nathan tensed slightly at the confrontation. He’d expected this reaction—but hearing it out loud, the ownership in Kyle’s voice, made something coil tight in his chest. Kyle’s tail flicked, his voice edged with something unreadable. “Nathan is part of our family. He belongs here.”

April’s gaze darkened, her wings tucking Nathan in closer. “Do you think he belongs only to you?”

The air between them crackled. Neither party was willing to back down. Nathan exhaled shakily, shifting against April’s hold. He didn’t move to leave her arms, but he turned just enough to meet Kyle’s burning gaze. “I’m still here.” His voice was quiet, but firm. “You don’t have to fight over me.”

Kyle’s jaw tensed. “Aren’t you the one letting yourself be held like that?” The stern words caused Nathan to flinch as April’s tail snapped against the ground. Kyle’s ears twitched, his hands clenching at his sides. His next words came low, quiet. “She’s not your family, Nathan.”

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

Then—Amber’s voice broke the tension, “Kyle, what’s going on?” She stepped into Nathan’s room, blinking at Kyle’s rigid stance before following his gaze to the window. Her breath hitched slightly at the sight outside.

April... Nathan.

Kyle’s claws were flexing against the wood, his entire body coiled with restrained anger.

Amber exhaled, stepping beside him. “Kyle, give it a break.”

His head snapped toward her. “Amber, she—”

“She’s not stealing him.” Her voice was steady, but there was an edge to it. “And you don’t own him.” Kyle flinched like she’d struck him.

Amber sighed, her features softening as she tugged gently on his arm. “Come on. Dinner’s almost ready.” Kyle hesitated—his eyes flicking once more to Nathan, then to April, who still held him, watching, waiting. Then, without another word, he turned and left.

Amber lingered for a moment longer. Her gaze met Nathan’s through the window, searching. “Come inside when you’re ready, alright?” she said to him. Nathan swallowed hard from everything that happened. He nodded. Amber then gave a small smile before following Kyle back into the kitchen.

April let out a slow breath, her muscles relaxing slightly as the confrontation faded.

But Nathan…Nathan remained still. His fingers curled against April’s scales with Kyle’s words still echoing in his mind. “She’s not your family.”

Nathan wasn’t sure what was worse—the fact that Kyle had said it, or that he wasn’t sure if it was true.

Half an hour later, April gently loosened her hold on Nathan, allowing him to slip back through his bedroom window. She lingered for a moment, watching as he hesitated—just for a second—before pulling the curtains shut. Then, with a quiet beat of her wings, she rose into the night sky.

The wind carried her home, guiding her toward the forested peaks of Mt. Iodide, where the dragons made their roost. The thick woods stretched far below her, dark and peaceful beneath the moonlight. Here, she found comfort. They all did. There was a balance in this place that few others had. The mountain’s dense wilderness provided ample hunting grounds, while the nearby town offered sufficient human children for the dragons to observe quietly, or even to choose a hatchling, should they wish. This unspoken harmony kept their kind from conflict, ensuring that the old ways of bloodshed remained in the past.

Still… as April landed, her mind was anything but at peace.

“Hey, April.” A familiar voice rumbled softly behind her. She turned to see Draco, her mate, padding toward her. His sleek black scales shimmered faintly beneath the starlight, and his piercing silver eyes flickered with quiet curiosity. “How’s the kid doing?” he asked.

April exhaled. “The kitsunés are treating him well,” she admitted, though unease tingled beneath her words. “But… I think they have a plan—to turn him into one of them.”

Draco’s gaze drifted down the mountainside, toward the distant lights of Iodide’s town below. His expression darkened, deep in thought. April watched him carefully, knowing they were thinking the same thing. She didn’t even know the boy’s name. Yet, from the moment she first saw him—so small, so alone, his spirit dimmed but not broken—something had ignited inside her. A fire that refused to burn out.

Nathan needed guidance... Not control. He was harboring something inside him, something undiscovered, something powerful. And she feared the kitsunés weren’t just offering him a home. They were shaping him into something he wasn’t meant to be.

“Do you think it’s time we bring him to us?” Draco asked, his tone measured and thoughtful.

April didn’t answer right away. Her gaze wandered toward the horizon, where the forest met the sky, stretching boundless and free. She could picture him there. Soaring; Learning the wind, the sky, and the ancient ways of their kind. But to the Kitsuné who had confronted her tonight, Nathan was something else—something to mold in his own image. The thought made her shiver. A bitter anger settled deep in her chest, the ache of knowing she might lose him to a life grounded, caged, when his soul was already leaning elsewhere.

And yet… She thought of his hesitation at the window. The warmth in his home. She had heard the tidal forces at play in that house. They cared for him. Not as a tool, not as something to claim, but as their own.

April exhaled, her wings shifting restlessly at her sides. “I think we wait.”

Draco arched a brow.

“At least for now,” she clarified. “Let’s not take him today.” Her voice softened, but there was steel beneath it. “He has a family. I won’t alienate them.”

Draco studied her for a long moment, then gave a slow, approving nod. April gazed once more at the distant town, its golden glow flickering against the dark. Nathan was caught between two worlds. For now, she would wait... But not forever.