Page 84 of Magical Mischief

And this time, I was ready to see it.

I followed the pull.

The corridors shifted as I walked—quiet, still, but not empty. The Academy breathed beneath my feet, stone and magic woven so tightly together I could almost feel its heartbeat, soft and steady. I passed the old herb chamber, the cracked windows that let in slices of sun. Paintings hung crooked on the walls, as if they had tilted their heads to watch me pass.

I didn’t rush. I didn’t need to.

The path was familiar now, though I couldn’t have said how. Not in a way I could trace on a map. But my bones knew where I was going, and the air got warmer every step. Not hot, not yet. Just laced with the scent of charred wood and ash, as if a hearth had recently gone cold.

The dragon wing.

I’d had a glimpse behind the veil before, as if the Academy had lifted a corner of itself just long enough to say,Look, but not yet.

But something about this visit felt different. The door at the end of the corridor glowed faintly, the old copper etched with curling vines and symbols I still hadn’t learned to read.

And then, from behind the door, came the sound of wings. Not large ones. Smaller, quicker. Familiar.

The fluttering key appeared from the side hall, its gold edges catching the light, wings buzzing like a hummingbird as it looped around me in a slow circle. It hovered at eye level, as if assessing something, then darted toward the door. It pausedmidair, glanced back—if keys could glance—and gave one sharpclickas it turned in the lock.

The door opened with a sigh.

Inside, the air changed completely. Warmer now. Thicker. Like walking into a summer evening just before a storm, when everything hums and the sky holds its breath.

The room wasn’t what I expected.

It was vast and much larger than it had any right to be, considering the size of the wing from the outside. I looked toward the alcove where I’d met the baby dragon before.

A shadowy shimmer of gold flowed along its scales as its glowing eyes met mine. Her iridescent scales glimmered before me as she stretched her tiny wings, waiting for me to step forward. Her tail slapped the dried grass and rocks, swishing as if gesturing for me to come deeper into the dragon wing.

My heart thumped hard, but the pull was stronger than anything my body could send me.

The ceiling arched high overhead, its beams dark with age. Vines had grown up along the stone walls, curling into shapes I couldn’t name. And there, at the center of it all, was the nest.

I stopped short.

It was made of crystal, bone, and bits of scorched wood, woven together in careful layers. Patches of moss grew along the edges, and strange glowing stones had been placed throughout, pulsing with a soft, golden light. It looked ancient, but new at the same time, as if it had always existed here and had only just been completed.

And in the center of the nest, resting, coiled, wings half-folded, was a dragon.

A tired dragon.

She was smaller than I imagined a dragon might be, though still enormous. Her scales shimmered in shades of deep emerald and bronze, and her breath rose in steady clouds, warming the air around her. One eye opened slowly as I stepped closer.

It was not a threatening gaze.

It was old.

Knowing.

She didn’t move. Just watched.

“I… didn’t know you were here,” I whispered, as if any louder sound might disturb whatever delicate magic was at work in this space.

The dragon blinked once. Then, with a deep, slow exhale, she lowered her head and nudged something in the nest toward me.

An egg.

Not large. Not glowing. Just pale, smooth, and tucked in a curve of her tail like something infinitely precious.