The Rituals Are So Intricate

Keshet was being difficult.

It wasn’t surprising; Keshet loved being difficult even on her good days, but she had requested time away from Threvilla and the other dragons, had asked for help, and now avoided Jack to chase after the myriad of orange butterflies that crowded the rocky field and coniferous trees at the base of the volcano. Jack’s patience had worn thin ages ago, but there was only so much they could do to control a dragon of Keshet’s size and with her determination to avoid whatever it was she’d wanted in the first place.

Luckily, they had an ace up their sleeve. “Is this about Magpyr?” Jack didn’t raise their voice, let it carry on the warm summer breeze across the yellow grass to where Keshet had been previously frolicking.

She came to a halt, her ears swiveled back and her finned crest pressed against her neck.

Keshet had shown some interest in other dragons, and both she and Jack had been pleased with the dragon Dracul, her son with Magpyr, had been growing into. She was eager to be a mother again. But in terms of potential mates, deep in the tumults of her most secret desires that she kept entirely to herself but where Jack could always see, Keshet always returned to the courting clash with Magpyr. She burned, wanting to repeat it, to meet them face to face again, violence to violence, and nurture their shed blood into the eggs inside of her.

Defeated, she slunk back to Jack’s side, resentful. “I need to be better,” she admitted. “I need to be more.”

“Why?” Jack asked, reaching out a hand. Keshet shoved her face into it, searching for comfort and, to some extent, to hide her embarrassment. Jack couldn’t help themself and smirked, amused to find Keshet, usually so bold and unbothered, feeling uncharacteristically shy.

Her blue eyes pierced through them. “It’s what they deserve.”

And, well. Jack was a romantic at heart. “And you need to show them this while you’re both trying to draw blood.”

Keshet, relieved that Jack understood, nodded her head, then nuzzled into their palm again. “I brought us here for a reason,” she said, striking one hoof against the ground sheepishly. “I thought the volcano would feel like them.” Then, agitated, “But it’s asleep.”

Jack glanced up. The blunted peaks of Juatasapi loomed over them without a sign of smoke. Their scientific mind wondered how long it had been since the last eruption, how destructive it had been, but these were queries they put aside for later. “Do you really need fire to fuel the storm in you?” they asked, voice cold.

It was a cruel trick to play. Connected as they were, Keshet knew this was a manipulation tactic. Jack had no disdain for her, didn’t look down on her, didn’t think she was wasting her time or potential. But it stung nevertheless, and she flinched her head out of their hand. “No.”

“Prove it.”

Behind Jack’s eyes, there was sudden pressure, a headache that suddenly pounded with the beat of their heart. The breeze that had been gently playing around them whipped into a frenzy, and the butterflies disappeared into the trees, taking shelter from the oncoming storm. Overhead, the cloudless sky turned a sickly greenish-gray as cold wind clashed with the summer air. Keshet bared her teeth at her rider, cast out her wings as she drew up to her full size.

“Magpyr won’t be impressed by cheap intimidation tactics,” Jack said calmly, keeping an eye on the sky as gray dots began to form, clouds conjured. “What makes you think I would?”

Keshet’s nostrils flared, and Jack felt their scalp crawl for the briefest moment before lightning cracked the sky, flashing just to their left. If not for their thick boots, made to resist the living energy of Thunder dragons, there was no telling how much damage they might have taken.

A slow, satisfied smile spread across their face, their unruly hair half standing on end from electricity and tousled by the wind. “Better. Again.”