Chapter 275: No Longer The Last

The evening should have been peaceful.

Cyrus and Kane returned from the BSA nexus facility to their countryside mansion, where dinner waited and soft lamplight promised domestic tranquility.

Aurel had other plans.

"No sleepy!" The dragon hatchling zoomed past Kane’s legs, wings fluttering wildly as his tail knocked three cushions off the newly purchased sofa.

Kane lunged, nine silver tails unfurling to form a net.

Aurel dodged left, laughing so hard he hiccupped another tiny flame that scorched the rug.

"Gotcha!" Kane’s tails closed around empty air as Aurel barrel-rolled beneath the coffee table.

"This is your fault," Cyrus observed from the armchair, watching his mate crawl across the floor. "You let him nap for three hours this afternoon."

"He looked tired!"

"He manipulated you." Cyrus stood, straightening his shirt.

"Aurelius. Bedtime."

The hatchling peeked from beneath the sofa, crimson eyes gleaming with mischief.

"No."

"It’s late."

"No sleepy."

"You were yawning five minutes ago."

Aurel’s wings fluttered indignantly.

"Father wrong!"

Kane collapsed on the floor, laughing so hard that two of his tails went limp. Aurel seized the opportunity, scrambling beneath the sofa with a triumphant chirp.

Cyrus stared at the couch.

Then at Kane, still wheezing with laughter.

Then back at the couch, where their son’s tail protruded defiantly.

"Do parenting manuals exist for dragons?" he asked the universe.

The universe responded with another cushion tumbling to the floor.

Cyrus dropped to his knees beside the sofa.

"Aurelius."

A defiant silence answered.

"Come out."

"No."

Kane sat up, brushing dust from his shirt.

"Let me try—"

"No." Cyrus’s voice carried finality. "He needs structure."

Three minutes later, Aurel remained stubbornly wedged beneath the furniture, chirping victoriously every time Cyrus’s hand came close.

Kane watched his mate’s jaw tighten with mounting frustration.

"Maybe—"

"I said no."

Another five minutes passed.

Cyrus stood abruptly, crossing to the window where moonlight spilled across dark fields.

When he spoke again, his voice had softened.

"When I was young, dragons learned to fly beneath stars."

Rustling came from beneath the sofa.

"The Spirit Realm had skies that went on forever." Cyrus’s reflection wavered in the glass. "The clan elder took me to the highest peak on my naming day. He told me dragons weren’t meant to crawl."

Aurel’s snout emerged slowly.

Cyrus turned, crimson eyes distant with memory.

"The first flight always terrified us. But our families flew beneath, catching us when we fell. Again and again, until our wings remembered."

The hatchling crept forward, wings folded tight.

"Dragon Daddy fly?"

"A long time ago."

"Me fly too?"

"When you’re actually ready."

Aurel tilted his head, studying Kane.

"Fox Daddy fly?"

Kane raised an eyebrow.

"Fox Daddy has nine perfectly good tails. Why would he need wings?"

Cyrus settled on the floor, opening his arms. Aurel climbed into his lap without protest.

The ancient lullaby began as a hum, low and resonant.

"Sváfnr, lítill dreki, und stj?rnurnar.

V?ngir tínir munu vaxa, hjarta titt mun brenna.

Himininn bíeur, en náe er hér."

Kane’s breath caught. The melody stirred something deep—a memory of silver fields and a voice singing the same words centuries ago.

He joined softly, translating.

"Sleep, little dragon, beneath the stars. Your wings will grow, your heart will burn. The sky awaits, but tonight—rest here."

Aurel’s eyes drifted closed.

The fire crackled softly. Aurel’s chest rose and fell with steady breaths, tiny wisps of smoke curling from his nostrils with each exhale.

Kane settled beside Cyrus on the sofa, leaning into his mate’s warmth.

"You know, six months ago, you were terrifying."

"I’m still terrifying."

"Of course. Especially when you’re arguing with a toddler about vegetables."

Cyrus’s lips twitched.

"I don’t recall you helping during last night’s broccoli incident."

"Someone needed to document it for posterity." Kane’s amber eyes gleamed with amusement. "Besides, you haven’t changed at all."

"Neither have you."

"I’ve become a responsible parent."

At that exact moment, Aurel released a tiny puff of smoke in his sleep, singeing the edge of Cyrus’s sleeve.

"Good job, baby," Kane whispered automatically.

Cyrus turned his head slowly.

"Responsible?"

"Extremely."

The banter softened. Kane traced idle patterns on Cyrus’s knee, watching shadows dance across their son’s scales.

"Do you miss it? The life you left behind?"

Cyrus considered the question, gaze distant.

"Sometimes I miss the simplicity. Knowing exactly what I was."

"The suspicious CEO I tried to investigate?" Kane grinned. "Never imagined he’d become my mate and father of my child."

"You were determined to arrest me."

"You were definitely guilty of something."

"Obstruction. Excessive wealth. Terrible fashion sense according to you."

Kane laughed, the sound bright and unguarded.

He leaned up, pressing a kiss to Cyrus’s jaw.

Aurel stirred between them, making an indignant little noise.

His crimson eyes cracked open.

"Daddy. No kiss."

Kane laughed harder.

"Someone’s jealous."

Cyrus bent down, pressing his lips gently to the hatchling’s forehead.

"Better?"

Aurel huffed, satisfied, and burrowed back into sleep.

Kane watched them both—his family—and felt the last fractured pieces of his ancient soul settle into place.

Finally whole.

Finally home.

The countryside mansion was peaceful.

The fire had burned low, casting amber shadows across worn floorboards that bore scorch marks from Aurel’s enthusiastic explorations.

Kane had fallen asleep on the sofa, nine silver tails curled protectively around their tiny obsidian dragon.

Aurel slept with one claw gripping Kane’s shirt, his tail resting against Cyrus’s hand.

Cyrus watched them.

The irony wasn’t lost on him—how many times had Kane fallen asleep on a couch in his presence?

That first morning in the penthouse, Kane had woken disoriented and furious, demanding answers Cyrus couldn’t give.

Now Kane sprawled across their shared furniture without hesitation, trust written in every relaxed line of his body.

Cyrus remembered yanking Kane back from the penthouse threshold when the karmic seal first burned into Kane’s chest. He’d been so certain keeping distance would solve the problem.

Instead, they’d built this.

For centuries, Cyrus believed himself to be the last of his kind.

He carried the grief of an entire bloodline, convinced that everything he loved would eventually disappear like smoke through his fingers.

The weight of extinction had made him cold, calculating—a dragon more statue than living creature.

But now, there was another dragon.

Aurel’s chest rose and fell with steady breaths, tiny wisps of smoke curling from his nostrils.

Black scales gleamed in the firelight, already showing hints of the formidable creature he’d become.

And beside that dragon was the fox who had loved him across lifetimes.

Kane shifted in his sleep, one tail automatically adjusting to keep Aurel warmer. Silver fur caught the light like starfire.

Cyrus reached out, carefully brushing a strand of white hair from Kane’s face.

His mate didn’t wake, only leaned into the touch with a contented hum.

"Took us long enough," Cyrus murmured.

Outside, stars wheeled overhead—the same stars that had witnessed the fall of the Spirit Realm, the same stars that watched two souls find each other again and again.

The last dragon wasn’t alone anymore.

He never had been.