“Meeeeaaatt,” hissed Ashe, their forked tongue flicking from their jaws.

Liora giggled, clapping her mittens together. “Okay, let’s sneak into the kitchen. I want to eat meat too!”

The two of them darted through the snow-dusted garden, leaving behind a trail of uneven footprints and claw marks. Ashe bounded clumsily, wings still stubby and unsteady, their tail dragging furrows behind them as they scampered after Liora. Their scales caught the pale light, the blue flecks shimmering like frozen stars in the white landscape.

Two weeks had passed since the hatching, and Ashe had already grown to the size of a large dog, full of restless energy and an endless appetite. Liora adored them, always insisting they be together—whether in play, meals, or sneaking about places they weren’t meant to be.

“Shhh, careful,” Liora whispered as they crept up the steps toward the manor’s back door. She tugged the handle open just enough to squeeze in, then beckoned Ashe with exaggerated urgency. The dragonlet slithered and clawed their way inside, letting out a delighted chuff that echoed too loud for any proper sneaking.

“Quiet!” Liora put a finger to her lips. Ashe tilted their head, confused for a moment, then mimicked her with their tongue dangling out, which made her burst into stifled giggles again.

The kitchen was dark and quiet, only the faint glow of embers in the hearth. Liora tiptoed across the floor, dragging Ashe along, the dragon’s claws clicking faintly against the stone.

“Meat,” Ashe whispered again, eyes fixed on the pantry door.

“I know, I know!” Liora hissed back. “We’ll find some before Mom gets home.”

She opened the pantry door just wide enough to slip inside, her claws clicking softly on the stone floor. The smell of smoked and dried meat filled her nose, making her stomach growl. She padded toward the rack where thornback meat hung in strips, long since salted and cured. With a mischievous grin, she let her claws slide out, glinting faintly in the dim light. One clean slice brought down a heavy strip, and she tore off a chunk to toss to Ashe.

The little dragonlet snapped it out of the air with their jaws, eyes gleaming, tail lashing against the shelves with a dull thump. Liora took a smaller piece for herself, nibbling quickly before gesturing for her sibling to follow.

Together, they slipped back out into the hall, careful at first, then less so as the excitement of their prize overtook their nerves. They were nearly to Liora’s bedroom when the shadows shifted ahead.

“Ah.”

They froze.

Corven stood there, tall and imposing in his immaculate uniform, the faintest sigh escaping him as he folded his arms. His sharp eyes settled on them both, disappointment plain in his expression.

“Young mistress,” he said, tone firm but not unkind, “I see you’ve snuck into the pantry again.”

Liora’s ears flattened and she shrunk down, clutching the strip of meat behind her back as if it could still be hidden. Beside her, Ashe did the opposite, puffing their chest and glaring up at the head servant with unblinking blue eyes. Then, with deliberate defiance, they tossed back their head and scarfed down the rest of their chunk of meat in two messy bites, grease staining their snout.

Corven’s jaw tightened, though his expression didn’t change. “Of course.”

Corven let out a slow breath through his nose, shaking his head. “You two…” His tone wasn’t sharp, but heavy with weariness. “The pantry is not your playground.”

He crouched down to their level, his voice softening. “If you’re hungry, you need only ask. There’s no shame in it, young mistress, little one.” His eyes lingered on Ashe, who tilted their head, still chewing stubbornly, before turning back to Liora. “But sneaking about will only cause trouble for both of you.”

Liora’s cheeks burned as she mumbled, “Sorry…”

Corven straightened, brushing invisible dust from his coat. “Come. I’ll not tell your mother this time, but only if you finish what you have in your room, not in the halls. Understood?”

Liora’s tail swished in relief as she nodded quickly. Ashe gave a little snort, but padded after her all the same, still licking their chops.

Corven watched them go, the stern mask slipping into the faintest smile. Mischief and hunger — hardly the worst sins for children to have.

They hurried back down the hall before Corven could change his mind, Liora clutching her prize close. The moment her door clicked shut, Ashe bounded across the room with a burst of excitement. Their stubby wings flapped frantically, stirring the air but doing little else as they scrambled at the side of the bed. Claws scraped against the blanket, back legs kicking uselessly, tail lashing for balance.

Liora laughed so hard she nearly dropped her meat. “You’re hopeless!” she said between giggles.

She set her food aside and slipped her arms under Ashe’s smooth-scaled belly, hoisting them up with a soft grunt. Ashe gave a triumphant little trill the instant they were set down, turning in a circle before flopping in the middle of the bed. They wriggled into the plush coverings until they were half-buried, wings sprawled out and tail curling lazily around their side.

Liora climbed up after them, crossing her legs with a huff of effort, and picked up her share of meat again. She chewed slowly, watching her sibling’s sides rise and fall, the faintest flicker of blue along their scales with each contented breath.

For a little while, the two just sat together — a girl and her dragon — the room filled only with the quiet sound of chewing and Ashe’s rumbling, kitten-like purr.

Liora tore off another bite, then paused, staring down at the meat in her hands. “You know…” she began softly, her voice barely above the hum of Ashe’s breathing. “My friends keep leaving. I thought maybe this time would be different. I tried so hard not to scare her.”

Her black eyes shimmered with ichor as she glanced at Ashe. “She said she wanted to go home. She looked at me like I was… like I was something awful. Like all those other kids did.”

Ashe blinked slowly, lifting their head. A soft trill rose from their throat as they nudged their snout against her arm. Liora managed a small smile, running her claws gently along their scaled back.

“But you won’t leave, right?” she whispered. “Even if I look different. Even if I’m not like everyone else.”

The dragonling gave another low rumble, curling tighter against her side, as if their tiny body could shield her from the world. “Meeeaaattt.”

Liora hugged them close with one arm, resting her chin on their head. “Thanks, Ashe. You’re my best friend now. My real best friend.”

They sat in silence for a while longer, the only sound Ashe’s quiet rumbling as their sides rose and fell. Liora licked the last bit of juice from her fingers, then hopped down from the bed with a little bounce. She shuffled through the corner chest where she kept her treasures and pulled out a stack of parchment, a box of stubby crayons worn from use, and her flat drawing board. With her arms full, she scrambled back onto the bed beside Ashe.

She really liked crayons. They smelled a little funny, like warm stone and ash, but the colors they made were so bright. Mom had gotten some goblins to make them a few years ago, after Liora wouldn’t stop asking for something better than charcoal. The goblins even showed her how to mix powders into wax to make more colors, so now she had pinks and greens and blues instead of just dull grey.

The parchment was special, too. Mom had told her once how in her old world, people made paper from trees. She had taught the goblins here the method, and now it wasn’t quite so rare. Expensive still, but not nearly as impossible as before. Liora always felt lucky every time she had a stack of it in her lap.

She set the board across her knees and carefully smoothed out a sheet. Then, with a bright red crayon, she began to draw.

Liora tapped the red crayon against the paper, thinking carefully. At first, she drew herself and Ashe, sitting side by side, tails curling around each other. But then her mind wandered.

She added a figure of her mother, Vivienne, tall and radiant, her crystalline shards shimmering like sunlight on ice. Next, she sketched Rava, strong and kind, smiling down at her. She drew them bigger than life, so the world around them—the snow-covered garden, the clanhall, even the far-off city walls—seemed to shrink beneath their presence.

Then she drew something else, something she hadn’t dared to draw before: children she didn’t know, laughing and running through the snow, not afraid of her, not screaming at the sight of her blackened skin or extra eyes. They were holding hands, playing with Ashe and her, sharing food and warmth. In this picture, she was just Liora. Not a monster, not something to hide.

Her small hand trembled a little as she added the finishing touches, the blue flecks of Ashe’s scales glinting in colored pencil, tiny suns in the snow. For a moment, her chest felt lighter. Even if it was only on paper, even if no one else could see it, this was the world she wanted to live in.

She leaned back, crayon poised over the next sheet, imagining all the ways she could make it even brighter.

As Liora set down her red crayon, Ashe tilted their head, blue-flecked eyes tracking each line she’d drawn. With careful, deliberate movements, they extended a claw and tapped the corner of the paper, almost as if pointing. Then they nudged it gently with their snout, pushing it closer to her.

Liora giggled. “You like it, huh?” she whispered, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Ashe let out a soft trill, a sound somewhere between a purr and a hiss, vibrating against her hand.

Then, in the smallest show of mischief, they wrapped their tail around one corner of the paper and tugged, pulling it slightly off the board. Liora gasped and caught it just in time.

“You’re silly,” she laughed, but her heart swelled. Ashe didn’t speak words, but somehow, through the tilt of their head, the flick of their wings, the gentle press of their snout, they were telling her they understood. They saw her, accepted her, and weren’t afraid.

For the first time in a long while, Liora felt it fully: she wasn’t alone. She had Ashe, her sibling, her little companion in this strange, harsh world. And maybe, just maybe, they could make their own little safe space, right here, where monsters could laugh and play and be friends without fear.

Liora leaned back, staring at her drawing, and suddenly the tightness in her chest broke. Tears began to spill from her black eyes, streaking her cheeks with inky ichor.

Ashe’s ears flicked, tail lashing in alarm. Their usual soft trill shifted into frantic chirps and squeaks. They scrambled closer, flapping useless wings, pressing their snout against her shoulder and nudging her arm with anxious force.

Liora sniffled, trying to blink away the tears. “I’m… I’m okay,” she whispered shakily. “I just… I miss friends who aren’t scared of me.”

Then, almost instinctively, Ashe pressed closer, nudging her again. Their small, reptilian voice cracked out a single word, jagged and uncertain: “L-Liora?”

Liora froze, eyes wide, then looked down at the little dragon curled against her. “Y-you… said my name?” she whispered, disbelief and warmth flooding her chest.

Ashe gave a soft, anxious trill in response, curling their tail tighter around her. They couldn’t say much, but somehow, the one word carried everything: recognition, concern, loyalty.

Liora’s tears slowed, and a shaky laugh escaped her. “You’re amazing, Ashe. You really are.” She hugged them tight, feeling their small body tremble with urgency, as if they were trying to make sure she knew she wasn’t alone.

There was a soft knock at the door. Liora wiped the remnants of her tears on her sleeve, then licked it clean, smudging the black streaks. She hopped off the bed and opened the door. A maid stood there, hands folded neatly, eyes downcast in respect.

“Twilight Fang Rava has returned,” she said, bowing slightly.

“Great!” Liora’s face lit up, her earlier sadness forgotten. “Ashe, let’s go say hi to Mama!”

The little dragon leapt from the bed with an eager bound, claws clicking softly against the floor as they padded after Liora. Together they threaded through the clanhall, careful to avoid any bustling servants, until they reached the heavy wooden doors of Rava’s office.

Inside, the giant lekine sat at her desk, quill poised over a stack of papers, ink glinting faintly in the lamplight. Her gaze lifted, calm and measured, as she nodded to them.

“Mama!” Liora called, her voice full of excitement.

“Liora. Ashe.” Rava’s tone was even, but her sharp eyes betrayed amusement. “I heard you two snuck into the pantry again.”

Both children shrank under her gaze, Liora’s shoulders hunching and Ashe flattening their ears, tail curling nervously around their feet.

“If you need to eat, just ask one of the servants. There is no need for sneaking. Otherwise, we may start thinking vermin have infiltrated the food stores.”

Liora lowered her gaze. “Yes, Mama,” she murmured.

Rava’s stern eyes softened slightly. “Also, when your mother finds out, she will probably tell you to be sneakier. Do not listen to that. You can simply ask.”

Liora grinned, a lightness returning to her step. Ashe nudged her hand with their snout as if sharing in the small victory of gentle reprimand.

“I need to work for now,” Rava said, setting her quill back to the parchment. “Your mother should be home tonight from her incursion. We can have dinner together then.”

“Okay, Mama.” Liora gave a bright wave, her little claws wiggling in the air. Beside her, Ashe tilted their head, pupils narrowing as they watched carefully. Then, with an ungainly grunt, they heaved themselves upright onto their hind legs. Wings flapped wildly for balance, and one claw lifted in a shaky imitation of Liora’s wave.

The sight pulled Rava’s attention from her papers. Her lips pressed together, the corners twitching before the frown took hold. “That is… adorable.” Her tone was flat, as though the word was foreign on her tongue, yet the twitch of her tail betrayed her soft amusement.

Ashe wobbled, fell back onto all fours with a chirping hiss, and immediately looked up to her again as if waiting for approval. Liora giggled, running over to scratch them behind the jaw. “See, Mama? Ashe can wave too!”

Rava’s frown deepened, though her eyes warmed. “So it seems.”

Liora and Ashe slipped out of Rava’s office and padded through the wide stone corridors of the clanhall. The torches along the walls burned low, casting soft shadows that swayed as they walked. Liora led the way with a mischievous smile, her claws clicking softly against the floor while Ashe padded behind, their tail swishing, nose twitching at every new scent.

She had already shown her sibling the usual places—behind the tall storage crates, under the great dining tables, even the crawl space above the kitchens where warm air always gathered. But now, she wanted to show Ashe her real favorite spot.

The only problem was getting there.

They stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the courtyard. A crisp wind carried the scent of snow and smoke. From here, the roofs of the clanhall stacked up like steps into the sky, and high above, nestled between two stone spires, was a narrow ledge just big enough for a child to squeeze into. It was perfect for watching the world without being seen.

“That’s where we’re going,” Liora whispered, pointing up with her claw.

Ashe tilted their head, pupils narrowing, then gave a low chirp as if to ask how. They flapped their wings furiously, managing to lift their front paws an inch from the ground before thumping back down with a frustrated hiss.

Liora giggled, though her eyes darted around to make sure no one was watching. “Don’t worry, Ashe. I’ll help.” She tapped her chin, thinking. She could shift into something smaller and climb easier herself, but Ashe was bigger, heavier. Lifting them up would be tricky.

Still, she grinned, baring her little sharp teeth. “We’ll figure it out. Come on, let’s try.”

Liora pointed up at the narrow ledge above, eyes gleaming. “That’s where we’re going.”

Ashe followed her claw, then back to her, letting out a low, uncertain hiss. They flapped their wings furiously, but only managed to hop a few inches off the ground before tumbling back down. Their tail lashed, teeth snapping in frustration.

Liora laughed, though she kept her voice hushed. “It’s okay! I’ll help you. We just have to be quiet.” She darted to the balcony railing and started climbing, claws digging into the stone. Ashe scrambled after her, trying to wedge their talons into the same cracks.

For a moment, it went well. Liora pulled herself up onto the first overhang and turned to offer a hand. Ashe leapt, paws scrabbling—too heavy, too sudden. Their claws slipped. The dragonling dangled for a heartbeat, hissing and flapping their useless wings, eyes wide with panic.

“Ashe!” Liora gasped, grabbing for them. Her claws scraped stone as she hooked one hand around their foreleg. They were heavy, far heavier than she expected. For a terrifying moment, it felt like they’d both tumble back into the courtyard below.

“Don’t you dare fall,” she grunted, bracing her foot against the wall and heaving with all her strength. Ashe thrashed, then latched their jaws onto the stone edge beside her, anchoring themselves long enough for Liora to haul them up beside her.

They collapsed in a heap, Liora panting, Ashe trembling and pressing their scaled body tight against her.

She hugged them close, breathless. “See? We can do it. Just… maybe don’t jump so hard next time.”

Ashe blinked up at her, then gave a shaky little chirp before licking her cheek with a warm, wet swipe of their tongue. Liora giggled despite herself and ruffled the spines on their head.

“Okay,” she whispered, “now let’s finish climbing. Our hidey spot’s even better than this.”

The rest of the climb went smoother. Liora knew every crack and foothold along the wall, and this time she moved slower, making sure Ashe had places to grip. The dragonling followed close, their claws finding steady purchase as their confidence returned.

Soon they crawled over the edge and onto the slanted roof tiles, the stone still cold beneath their hands and paws. Ashe immediately flopped down, wings spread wide as though to claim the spot as theirs.

Liora giggled and crawled beside them, pointing out across the city. “See? Isn’t it amazing?”

From here, the whole of the clanhall stretched beneath them, the courtyard quiet, the mountainsides rolling away into white. Ashe lifted their head and blinked at the horizon, letting out a low, throaty rumble of approval.

Liora plopped onto her back, arms spread wide. “This is my favorite place. No one else comes up here. Just us. And sometimes mommy.”

Ashe shuffled closer, curling beside her, their tail wrapping lazily around her leg. Together they lay there, breathing in the cold air, the stars beginning to prick through the evening sky.