Chapter 62:

With my biological father by my side, the process of preparing for my complete transformation into a dragon took on a new depth. He was not just a mentor—he was a living embodiment of the power I was learning to wield, and each day with him revealed new layers to both my abilities and my heritage. My father guided me patiently, showing me how to sense the subtle interplay between my dragon fire and the divine energy that ran through my veins. He would correct my form, steady my breathing, and share stories of his own first transformation, making the impossible feel not only achievable, but inevitable. Under his careful instruction, I learned to trust the changes in my body rather than fear them, and each small success brought a sense of belonging I had never known before. With his wisdom shaping every lesson, I was now almost ready for a complete transformation.

Almost.

That word was becoming incredibly annoying.

For days, Dad patiently helped me understand and separate the two distinct forces within me. He sat with me for hours, guiding my attention inward until I could truly sense each power’s unique signature. Before he arrived, I had always treated my dragon fire as the center of everything—its heat and energy were familiar, the force that came to me first when I needed strength. But Dad showed me there was more. He encouraged me to close my eyes, to listen deeper and let go of my immediate instincts, so I could feel the subtle, persistent current of divine energy lying beneath the surface. With his gentle questions and steady presence, I learned to recognize not just the difference, but the interplay between them. Sometimes, he would have me try to draw on each power separately, describing aloud how they felt, until I could identify exactly which one was responding. That awareness, he explained, was the first step toward true control.

The difference between my two powers was stark, almost elemental in its contrast. My dragon fire was a living force—hot, wild, and fiercely alive, always pressing at the edges of my control, impatient to be unleashed. Whenever I called upon it, it flared like a sudden inferno, crackling through my veins and demanding action. It was aggressive, eager to transform, and impossible to ignore.

The divine energy, by contrast, was a quiet river running beneath the surface. When I focused on it, I felt a gentle, steady warmth—not the blazing heat of dragon fire, but something more ancient and enduring. It was calm, almost serene, never forcing itself forward, but instead radiating a patient strength that made me feel centered and whole. Dad explained that this was the power of my mother's bloodline: not meant for destruction, but for balance and renewal. When I circulated the divine energy through my body, it fortified every muscle and bone, preparing me for whatever came next. Only then, after that foundation was laid, did Dad allow me to let the dragon fire follow—layering raw force atop a base of unshakeable calm.

Feeling the two together was like holding a storm in one hand and the earth in the other. Learning to distinguish and harmonize them was the heart of my training—and with Dad's guidance, I was finally beginning to understand how to wield both without letting either consume me.

The difference was incredible.

My progress was undeniable, and for the first time, excitement outweighed my fear. My partial transformations no longer hurt nearly as much; the agony that used to seize my muscles and bones gave way to a tolerable pressure, a sensation of being stretched rather than shattered. Now, when I focused, my arms would shift fluidly—scales rippling down my skin as my hands morphed into powerful, taloned paws, the movement almost graceful. My face could stretch and extend into a draconic snout, the transformation holding steady without the splitting pain that once made me feel as though my skull was being torn apart from within. Instead of feeling trapped between two worlds, I was learning to move between them. Each attempt left me stronger, more attuned to my changing body, and more certain that I was on the verge of something extraordinary.

More importantly, I could change back whenever I wanted.

That had earned an approving nod from Dad.

Dad’s voice was calm but insistent. “Again.”

I shot him a look and let out a theatrical groan. “You really like that word. You know, most people would offer a break or at least some encouragement.”

His lips quirked in a wry smile. “I’ve discovered it’s remarkably effective. Besides, I know you can do it. You’re stronger than you think.”

Sapphire, who had been sprawled nearby, burst into laughter. I glared at her, half annoyed and half grateful for her presence. “You’re supposed to support your mate, not take his side.”

She smirked, propping her chin on her hands. “I am supporting you. This is just very entertaining.”

I rolled my eyes and turned back to Dad, who was watching me with that patient, unshakeable confidence he always seemed to carry. “At least pretend to be impressed. My hands actually changed this time.”

He stepped closer, his expression softening. “I am impressed, Yuqi. But I also know you can go further. You’re not just learning to change your body—you’re learning to trust yourself. That’s what matters most.”

Despite myself, I felt a smile tug at my lips. Dad’s encouragement was quiet but steady, and every time he reminded me of my strength, the challenge felt a little less intimidating. With a deep breath, I nodded and prepared to try again, bolstered by his support.

Dad chuckled before motioning for me to concentrate.

I closed my eyes and drew in a slow, steady breath, feeling my father’s presence just behind me—a quiet anchor. I reached inward, searching for that familiar thread of divine power. It came to me easily now, warm and sure, rising up from the core of my being like sunlight welling through cracks in the earth. I let it spread, washing through my chest, down my arms and legs, filling every part of me with a sense of strength and unity. My heart thrummed with the energy, and the world seemed to slow as I focused on its flow.

Only then did I call forth the fire. It answered with a roar, wild and invigorating. The heat surged through my veins, meeting the calm foundation of the divine energy, and I felt the two forces twist together—one ancient and still, the other restless and raw. My skin prickled as scales began to ripple down my arms, shimmering in the sunlight. A low growl rumbled in my throat, deeper and more resonant than before, as my fingers stretched, bones reshaping, nails curving into formidable talons.

Pressure built in my face—a familiar ache, but now tempered by the control I’d learned. My jaw pushed forward, teeth lengthening, my features transforming into the sharp, draconic lines I’d seen only in glimpses. This time, the shift didn’t stop at my face or hands. Something deep inside my chest shifted, as though a door was opening. For a heartbeat, it felt like my entire body was on the verge of changing all at once, every cell vibrating with anticipation.

I gasped, and my eyes snapped open, golden and slitted, my senses sharper than ever. The air tasted electric. I was so close—closer than I’d ever been before.

As the final surge of power threatened to overwhelm me, Dad’s voice cut through the storm. He immediately raised his hand, palm outstretched in a silent command, and his eyes—sharp and resolute—locked onto mine.

“Stop.”

The word rang out with the weight of authority, and though every muscle in my body screamed to keep going, to finally finish what I’d started, I faltered. The energy inside me churned, wild and hungry, desperate to break free, but Dad’s presence was like a wall—unmovable, unwavering. I was so close. I could almost taste the shift, feel my bones stretching further, sense the wings that begged to unfurl from my back.

“Dad—” I protested, my voice raw with frustration and longing. My hands shook with the effort of holding myself at the edge.

He didn’t so much as blink. “Stop, Yuqi,” he repeated, his tone gentler now, but no less firm. The command in his voice was threaded with concern and something deeper—a fierce protectiveness that brooked no argument.

With every fiber of my being protesting, I forced the swirling power inside me to retreat. It was like turning away from the sun at the height of summer—painful, unnatural, and deeply disappointing. The wildfire heat of dragon fire dulled, coiling back into its hidden place, while the calm pulse of divine energy slowly receded, leaving me shivering in its absence.

I felt my snout shrink, bones shifting and sliding back with a peculiar tingling sensation as my face resumed its familiar contours. My taloned hands softened, claws retracting, scales dissolving one by one until only smooth skin remained. The last remnants of transformation faded, and I was left standing, breathless and unsteady, fully human once more.

I stared at Dad, frustration and longing mixing in my chest. I was so close, but the taste of almost was sharper than ever.

“I could have done it.”

Dad didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

For a moment, I just stared at him. That wasn't the answer I expected. My heart pounded with disbelief and anger. “What?”

He only smiled, calm and irritatingly unruffled. “You could have transformed.”

Sapphire shot to her feet, eyes wide. “She could?”

He nodded, his gaze never leaving mine. “Yes.”

My frustration boiled over. I threw my arms up, pacing a tight circle. “Then why did you stop me? I was right there, Dad! I could feel it—I could have finally done it!”

He watched me with steady patience. “Because being capable of beginning a transformation and being capable of completing one safely are two different things.”

I crossed my arms, glaring at him, unwilling to let it go. “So you don’t trust me? Or you don’t think I’m strong enough?”

He shook his head, his voice gentle but firm. “This isn’t about trust or strength, Yuqi. It’s about control and readiness. Once you cross that threshold, instinct takes over—and you need to be prepared for that, not just physically, but mentally. I won’t let you risk losing yourself, not when you’re so close.”

His words stung, but beneath my anger, I knew he was right. Still, it didn’t make it any easier to accept. I clenched my fists, trying to swallow my frustration as the echoes of power still hummed beneath my skin.

Dad looked entirely unimpressed by my glare. He let the silence stretch, as if waiting for my frustration to subside, then spoke in that steady, unhurried tone that made it impossible not to listen.

“You have spent sixteen years in a human body,” he continued, his eyes never wavering from mine. “Your dragon form has never been fully expressed—not truly, not by your own will. The first time you cross that final threshold, everything will feel new. Instinct will become considerably stronger, and your mind will have to contend with a flood of sensation and hunger your human self has never experienced.”

He stepped closer, voice softening with a note of genuine worry. “Transformation isn’t just about changing your shape. It’s about letting another part of yourself take the lead, one that knows little of restraint. When that happens, you need to be certain you can pull yourself back—not just in body, but in mind and spirit. Otherwise, you risk being swept away by the dragon’s will.”

The memory of losing control during the summoning spell flashed through my mind—the terror and exhilaration, the raw power that threatened to tear me apart. I saw a flicker of recognition in Sapphire’s eyes too; she shifted, suddenly alert, remembering the chaos that had nearly consumed me.

Dad’s gaze flicked to her, his lips quirking in a knowing smile. “And that is another reason we’re waiting. We need to be sure—not just for your sake, but for everyone around you.”

Sapphire tried to look innocent. “I didn’t say anything.”

Dad arched an eyebrow. “You didn’t have to.”

He turned back to me, his expression gentling. He reached out and rested a firm, reassuring hand on my shoulder, grounding me. “You’re almost there, my dragon hatchling. You have the strength. What I need to see is just a little more control. When you have it—not just when you feel ready, but when you truly are—I will let you finish the transformation. And I will be right here with you.”

I couldn't stop my smile. Excitement bubbled up inside me, bright and effervescent, impossible to contain. I felt like I was standing on the threshold of an entirely new world, my heart pounding with anticipation and joy. For most of my life, I hadn't even known dragons existed—at least, not outside of stories and dreams.

Then I discovered I was one. My whole identity had shifted in the space of a heartbeat, and since that day, every step had brought me closer to this moment. I'd watched scales shimmer into existence across my skin, learned to breathe fire, discovered that I was a Queen, found my mate, uncovered the truth about my mother’s divinity, and finally met the father who understood every strange, wondrous thing happening to me.

Now, I stood on the precipice of something extraordinary—something I'd yearned for ever since the truth had rushed into my life. The thought of it set my nerves alight: soon, I wouldn't just see fragments and flashes of my dragon form in the mirror or in moments of crisis. I would finally meet her—my other self, powerful and ancient, waiting just beneath the surface. The idea filled me with awe and gratitude, and a wild, fierce hope. I could hardly wait to see what she was really like.

I looked over at Sapphire. She was still watching me with that mixture of excitement and concern that had become increasingly common during my training. I needed her to understand just how much her progress affected mine—how intertwined our fates had become.

"Sapphire," I said, my voice softened by affection but edged with urgency, "do you realize you’re the main reason I can’t finish my transformation yet? It’s not just about me. If I become a dragon while you’re still stuck in a human body, my instincts will take over. I’ll want—no, I’ll need—to complete the bond with you, and your human form would never survive that."

Her eyes widened as the seriousness of my words sank in. I could see the glimmer of guilt and fear flicker across her face. She nodded, swallowing hard.

"Yes. I understand," she said quietly, her expression growing more serious. "Your desire to complete the bond with me will take over. I still can’t fully transform yet, so it would be dangerous."

I reached out, squeezing her hand. "We’re in this together, Sapphire. I need you to catch up—not just for me, but for both of us."

I stared at her, feeling the bond between us thrum with urgency. The words had barely left my mouth before something primal surged inside me—a hungry, ancient force that wasn’t content to wait any longer. My dragon fire surged up from my core, burning away the last remnants of restraint. I felt my senses sharpen and my vision narrow, purple flames flickering in my eyes as the world seemed to tilt.

My thoughts blurred, replaced by a single driving need. My dragon side pressed hard against the barrier of my will, whispering its demands: she must be ready, she must change, she must become mine in every way. It was almost impossible to resist. My voice came out deeper, rougher, thrumming with an inhuman timbre that echoed through the room.

“You need to train harder to catch up with me.” The words were a command, not a request, spoken with an intensity that sent a shiver through the air.

Sapphire’s eyes widened in alarm, lips parting as she saw just how close I was to losing control. I took a step toward her, every muscle straining with the effort of holding back. My breath came in short, heated bursts, and I could feel the dragon’s impatience gnawing at my mind.

“I can only hang on for so long,” I warned, the words half growl, half plea. For a moment, my human self and my dragon fought for dominance—one desperate to protect, the other desperate to claim. The struggle left me trembling, heart pounding with the knowledge that time was running out for both of us.

For a few seconds, nobody said anything. The room was thick with tension—the dragon part of me still coiling just beneath my skin, unwilling to surrender its hold.

Then Dad stepped forward and put his hand firmly on my shoulder, grounding me with his steady presence. His grip was neither harsh nor gentle, but just enough to remind me I wasn’t alone in this battle. His gaze was clear and unwavering as he spoke, his voice cutting through the haze of instinct that clouded my mind.

“Yuqi,” he said, his tone both commanding and compassionate, “you have to show some control. The dragon is part of you, but it cannot be allowed to rule you. Not yet.”

The words, simple and direct, pierced through the storm inside me. I closed my eyes and forced myself to focus on his hand, his voice, the steady rhythm of his breathing beside me—anything that tethered me to the present. Slowly, I drew the power inward. The pressure in my chest gradually eased, and the wild energy that threatened to spill over slipped back beneath the surface. When I opened my eyes again, the purple fire was gone, leaving only my own reflection staring back at me—worn out, but in control once more.

Sapphire was still staring at me, her blue eyes wide and glinting with a mix of challenge and exasperation. There was a slight arch to her brow, the kind of look that always meant she had something to say but was debating whether to say it.

I raised an eyebrow, trying to keep my tone light despite the tension still simmering in the room. “What?”

She hesitated, then shook her head, folding her arms in front of her chest. “Nothing.”

I wasn’t fooled. “That was definitely not a nothing look.”

Sapphire huffed and rolled her eyes, her expression shifting to stubborn defiance. “Well, maybe it’s not fair that everyone keeps acting like I’m the only one who needs to keep it together. You’re the one with purple fire in your eyes and a dragon that nearly burst free a minute ago.”

Dad sighed, fatigue and amusement mingling in his voice. He cut in before our bickering could escalate. “Sapphire.”

She glanced toward him, still bristling. “What? I didn’t do anything!”

He shook his head, the corners of his mouth twitching. “You aren’t helping.”

Sapphire’s chin lifted. “Maybe I would help more if I got a little credit for not running away.”

Dad gave her a long, level look. “You don’t have to. You’re her bonded soul.”

That shut her up, but her glare said she wasn’t done arguing. For a moment, a smile tugged at the corner of my own mouth—somehow, even in the middle of all this chaos, Sapphire never backed down from my dragon or me.

Kelly, however, sprawled on a nearby chair, arms crossed behind her head, a wide, mischievous grin stretching across her face. She looked like she was watching the most entertaining play in town—her eyes danced between me, Sapphire, and Dad, plainly savoring every second of the drama. Her foot tapped against the leg of her chair in barely contained amusement, and every time one of us raised our voices, her grin seemed to grow.

I caught her eye and pointed accusingly. “Don't.”

She immediately straightened, raising both hands in a mock gesture of surrender, her lips twitching with the effort to keep from laughing. “I didn't say anything.”

“You were about to.”

Kelly pressed her lips together, but her eyes sparkled with silent laughter. “I was thinking things.”

“Think quieter.”

She snorted, unable to contain herself any longer, and quickly covered her mouth, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Even Dad’s stern expression softened for a moment as Kelly’s amusement rippled through the room, breaking the tension just a little.

Dad squeezed my shoulder before releasing it.

Dad squeezed my shoulder again, his posture straight and steady, commanding everyone's attention. His sharp, thoughtful eyes flicked from me to Sapphire and back, making it clear this lesson was meant for us both. “This is precisely what I'm talking about, Yuqi. The closer you get to your complete dragon form, the stronger your instincts will become.” He gestured lightly with his free hand, fingers splayed as if to emphasize the invisible forces at play within me. “You aren't simply changing your body. You're awakening instincts that have been dormant since you hatched.”

I shifted my weight from foot to foot, unable to completely hide my impatience as his words sank in. Dad’s gaze softened for a moment, but his stance stayed firm and reassuring—a silent promise that he wouldn't let me lose myself.

I glanced at Sapphire again, and she gave me a sheepish smile, her shoulders hunched and hands fidgeting in her lap, betraying her nervousness. She looked between Dad and me, clearly aware of the pressure but also determined not to shy away from it.

I folded my arms, trying to look nonchalant but feeling the edge of anxiety beneath my bravado. “So what are we supposed to do?” I asked, my voice half-defiant, half-hopeful.

Dad let out a slow breath, his jaw tight with the weight of responsibility. “For now? You learn restraint.” He met my eyes, holding my gaze with the full force of his authority and love, then finally stepped back and gave me room to breathe.

I groaned, letting my shoulders droop in dramatic defeat, but deep down, I knew he was right. My arms hung at my sides, and I shot Dad a plaintive look, but he only shook his head, mouth set in a line of amused resolve.

Dad ignored my theatrics and squared his stance, shifting his attention to Sapphire. He pointed at her, his posture straight and purposeful. “And Sapphire trains.”

That wiped the smile from Sapphire's face in an instant. Her back stiffened, and her eyes widened, caught off guard by the sudden seriousness. She sat up straighter, hands bracing her knees, as though ready to spring into action. Dad’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, his tone gentle but firm as he explained, “You're further behind Yuqi because no one has been properly teaching you either. That changes now.”

Sapphire straightened even more, her jaw tightening with determination as she nodded. “Okay.”

Dad relaxed his stance just slightly and crossed his arms, his eyes flicking between us to make sure we were both paying attention. “Your goal isn't to equal Yuqi,” he continued, his words measured and clear. “That's impossible at your current stage. Your goal is to gain sufficient control over your dragon form that when Yuqi completes her transformation, you aren't overwhelmed by her presence.”

Sapphire glanced at me, her lips pressed into a nervous line, but a spark of resolve flickered in her eyes.

I flashed Sapphire my sweetest, most innocent smile—one that I knew drove her crazy. Leaning forward a little, I batted my eyelashes and laced my fingers together in front of me as if butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth. “Better start training harder,” I sang, my voice just a shade too smug.

Sapphire narrowed her eyes, lips pressing into a thin line. She crossed her arms with a huff and tilted her chin upward, meeting my gaze with a glare that was equal parts annoyance and challenge. “Don't get cocky,” she shot back, her foot tapping impatiently on the floor.

I grinned wider, unable to hide my amusement. A flicker of purple flashed through my eyes—just briefly, but enough to make Sapphire’s expression shift from irritation to theatrical outrage.

She jabbed a finger in my direction, her stance defensive but playful. “That! That's exactly what I'm talking about!”

Dad laughed, folding his arms and shaking his head, clearly enjoying the banter. The sound was warm and easy, filling the room with a sense of lightness. I couldn’t help but join in, my shoulders relaxing as I laughed along with him, grateful for these moments of teasing even with so much at stake.

Still, beneath the teasing, I felt the weight of what Dad was telling us settle into my bones. My smile lingered, but my posture shifted; I straightened, shoulders squaring and chin lifting as determination built inside me. Sapphire caught my eye across the room, her arms still folded but her lips curling in a reluctant smile—an unspoken promise that she was in this with me, no matter how hard it got.

Dad was watching us both, arms crossed and face softened with pride and a hint of worry. Kelly, sprawled in her chair and now finally quiet, gave me a thumbs-up and a wink, her grin returning as if to say, "You've got this."

The laughter faded, replaced by a comfortable silence. I drew in a deep breath and felt the air shift—charged, alive, full of possibility. Beneath my skin, my dragon stirred, restless and eager, and for once I didn't flinch from that fierce presence; I welcomed it, heart pounding, hands steady at my sides.

We were all standing on the edge of something enormous. Tomorrow, the training would resume. Tomorrow, I'd push harder. We all would. There was fear, yes, but there was hope too—the kind that buzzed in my blood and made my whole body feel light.

Very soon, I would meet my dragon—myself—face to face. And when that moment came, I would step forward, unafraid, surrounded by the people who made me strong. That thought was enough to carry me through the night, and into whatever came next.