Chapter 176: Parenthood And Pyres

Kane’s ears perked up instantly, all nine tails swishing with renewed interest.

"Of course I want to know! You can’t just dangle dragon reproduction facts and then take them back."

Cyrus’s jaw tightened, but he set down his paperwork with the air of someone accepting their fate.

"Fine. Dragons reproduce through... traditional means. Male and female pairings produce eggs after a gestation period."

"Traditional means?" Kane’s eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Like, missionary position traditional? Or do dragons have special egg-laying positions? Do you need to be in full dragon form, or—"

"Kane." Cyrus’s voice carried a warning edge.

"What? These are legitimate questions! How else am I supposed to understand dragon biology?" Kane leaned forward eagerly.

"Can dragons crossbreed with other species? Like, could a dragon and a phoenix make some kind of super-fire baby?"

Cyrus massaged his temples.

"Theoretically, dragons could produce offspring with compatible species, though such pairings were rare even when dragons were numerous."

"Compatible species?" Kane’s tails swished faster. "Define compatible."

"Species with sufficient magical resonance and biological similarity." Cyrus’s tone suggested he deeply regretted engaging with this topic.

"Phoenix spirits, certain celestial beings, occasionally powerful fox spirits—"

"Fox spirits?" Kane’s voice pitched higher.

Cyrus’s eyes widened as he realized his mistake.

"Ancient texts mention it as a theoretical possibility, nothing more."

"So you’re saying dragons and foxes could—"

"I’m saying historical records indicate it might have been possible under extremely specific circumstances that no longer exist."

Kane tilted his head, processing this information with visible fascination.

"Oh, so you can make half-dragons." His golden eyes narrowed slightly, taking on a calculating gleam. "Should I be worried about secret dragon kids in the future?"

Cyrus went completely still, crimson eyes widening in something between shock and horror.

"Are you asking if I would—" He stopped, his expression shifting to confusion. "Kane, we’re both male. The biological impossibility aside, do you genuinely think I would seek reproductive encounters elsewhere?"

The office fell silent except for the quiet hum of the climate control. Kane’s ears flattened slightly as he realized how his question had been interpreted.

"I mean—"

"Because if you’re concerned about my fidelity, perhaps we should discuss that directly rather than through hypothetical dragon offspring." Cyrus’s voice had gone dangerously quiet, though hurt flickered beneath the controlled tone.

Kane’s ears drooped as he raised both hands in surrender.

"Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t doubt you at all—I’m just naturally curious. Fox thing, you know? We stick our noses into everything."

The tension in Cyrus’s shoulders eased slightly, though his expression remained guarded.

"Nine-tailed foxes usually give birth to several kits at once," Kane continued, settling back in his chair.

"My mother had seven in my litter. I was the runt—smallest, weakest, single-tailed, while everyone else had at least three by birth."

His voice carried a practiced lightness, but his tails curled closer to his body.

"Must be nice being an only child, having all that parental attention to yourself."

Kane’s ears twitched as he caught the subtle shift in Cyrus’s expression. ℯℯ𝑙.

"Wait, are you an only child? I mean, dragons live for centuries, right? Your parents could have had dozens of kids."

Cyrus’s hands stilled on his paperwork, crimson eyes fixed somewhere beyond Kane’s shoulder.

"I am... yes. An only child."

"Why?" Kane’s voice carried genuine curiosity, but when Cyrus didn’t immediately respond, concern crept in. "Cyrus?"

The silence stretched until Cyrus finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

"This is what I was afraid to discuss with you."

Kane’s tails went rigid with sudden apprehension.

"Dragons mate for life," Cyrus continued, still not meeting Kane’s eyes. "But we only reproduce once. The process is... complicated."

"What do you mean?"

Cyrus’s jaw worked silently for several moments before he forced the words out.

"Dragon reproduction requires the Fire of Creation," Cyrus said, his voice hollow.

"The male must... burn their mate alive during the final moments of conception. The flames that kill her are what spark life in the egg."

Kane’s ears flattened completely against his skull, golden eyes widening in horror.

"A life for a life," Cyrus continued, staring at his hands. "Very rarely, the female survives the burning. Most don’t."

The office air grew thick with unspoken implications. Kane’s tails had gone completely still.

"My mother didn’t survive," Cyrus whispered. "My father followed her into death within days. Dragons don’t have parents growing up—we’re raised by the clan, if any clan remains."

Kane’s voice came out strangled. "Cyrus—"

"Now you understand why I wanted to destroy the egg." Cyrus finally met Kane’s gaze, crimson eyes blazing with pain.

"Dragons don’t get happy families. We get death and solitude and the burden of continuing a dying lineage."

Kane sat frozen, processing the horrific revelation. The cheerful conversation about dragon babies suddenly felt obscene.

His chest tightened as he imagined a young Cyrus—alone, parentless, carrying the weight of his mother’s death and his father’s grief.

Of course, the last dragon would be afraid of love when it literally meant death.

"Don’t look at me like that," Cyrus said quietly, misreading Kane’s expression. "I don’t want your pity."

"It’s not pity." Kane stood slowly, moving around the desk. "It’s understanding. Everything about you makes so much more sense now."

Cyrus’s jaw tightened. "Kane—"

Kane didn’t hesitate. He climbed onto Cyrus’s lap, settling sideways against the dragon’s chest. Cyrus’s arms came up immediately, holding Kane close while one hand automatically began stroking through his silver hair.

"You’re not alone anymore," Kane murmured against Cyrus’s neck. "We’ll figure this out together."

Cyrus’s embrace tightened, and Kane felt some of the tension leave his shoulders.

Kane’s mind wandered to the egg sitting innocently on the table.

"Besides," Kane said against Cyrus’s throat, "neither of us actually produced that egg, so there’s probably some other hatching method that doesn’t involve turning me into fox kebab."

Cyrus’s chest rumbled with what might have been a laugh. "Fox kebab?"

"You know what I mean. Alternative hatching techniques that don’t require—"

Suddenly, the obsidian egg pulsed with faint crimson light, as if responding to their conversation.

Both Kane and Cyrus went rigid, staring at the egg.

Kane’s ears flattened against his skull as he turned to meet Cyrus’s horrified gaze.

"Uh..." Kane’s voice cracked slightly, forcing a nervous grin. "I think the egg just RSVP’d my funeral pyre."