Weaves of Ashes

Chapter 194: Chapter 189: Mother Has Legs

Location: Pavilion - Private Quarters

Time: Day 231 (Doha Actual) | 765 - 21 Voidmarch, 9938 AZI (Evening)

”There’s something else.”

Yinxin’s voice had shifted—lighter now, almost hesitant. The heavy emotional weight of her story was settling, and something new was rising to take its place.

”The memories showed me how to do something I never learned. Something all dragons can do, but...” She trailed off, a note of old grief in her voice. ”My mother never taught me. She was too broken by then, too hollow. And the other dragons on Telia—most were being hunted. There was no one left to teach the young ones.”

Jayde raised an eyebrow. ”Teach you what?”

”Shapeshifting.”

”You can already shapeshift. I’ve seen you change size—”

”Not size shifting. True transformation. Taking a completely different form.” Yinxin’s golden eyes held a mix of excitement and nervousness. ”Human form.”

The room went very still.

”Show us,” Jayde said.

Yinxin closed her eyes. Concentrated. Reached for memories that weren’t quite hers—ancient queen knowledge, passed down through generations, explaining the technique in terms she was only beginning to understand.

Silver light rippled across her scales.

Her massive form began to shrink. Scales retracted, flowing into skin like water into sand. Wings folded and folded and vanished. The long, serpentine neck compressed, the tail retreated, the bulk of an ancient dragon compressed into something impossibly small.

And where a three-thousand-year-old silver dragon had crouched, a woman now stood.

***

She was tall—about five foot ten—with silver-white hair that flowed past her waist in waves that seemed to move on their own. Her eyes remained golden, dragon eyes in a human face, bright and ancient and not quite right. Her skin was pale with a faint silver undertone, almost luminescent in the Pavilion’s soft lighting.

The transformation had created clothing with her—simple robes in silver and white, elegant without being elaborate. She was stunningly beautiful in a way that wasn’t quite human. Too perfect. Too ethereal. The kind of beauty that made you uncomfortable if you looked too long.

And she was staring at her legs with an expression of absolute bewilderment.

”These are so strange,” Yinxin said, her voice now higher, musical, with the faintest harmonic resonance. ”How do you balance on only two points of contact?”

The wyrmlings woke up.

The silence lasted approximately three seconds.

Then Tianxin’s voice, shrill with shock: ”MOTHER HAS LEGS!”

”Mother is SMALL!” Shenxin added, scrambling to his feet.

”Mother and Aunty Jayde are the SAME!” Huaxin observed, her eyes huge.

They swarmed their transformed mother with the same enthusiasm they’d shown the kitten earlier. Poking at her legs. Circling her feet. Trying to climb her.

Yinxin wobbled dangerously.

”Children—wait—I haven’t—”

She took a step and immediately grabbed for Jayde’s arm, nearly pulling them both down.

”How do you BALANCE?!” The question came out almost as a wail. ”There’s no tail for counterweight! No wings for stability! Just these—these STICKS!”

Jayde was trying very hard not to laugh. ”It takes practice.”

”Dragons have four legs! Four legs make SENSE! Two legs is clearly a design flaw!”

”Billions of humans would disagree.”

”Billions of humans are WRONG!”

Tianxin, meanwhile, had discovered that mother’s new robes were excellent for climbing. She was halfway up her leg before Yinxin noticed, which caused her to yelp and stumble sideways into Reiko.

[OW,] Reiko sent, as several hundred pounds of confused dragon-woman crashed into his flank. [Watch the—watch the everything, please.]

”Sorry! Sorry, I can’t—these LEGS—”

The emotional weight of the evening had been completely shattered by wyrmling chaos and the sight of an ancient dragon queen flailing about like a newborn foal.

Jayde was laughing too hard to help.

***

”Okay. Okay, let’s... let’s try this properly.”

Twenty minutes later, the wyrmlings had been convinced to watch from a safe distance (the promise of extra treats helped), and Jayde was attempting to teach Yinxin the basics of human locomotion.

”One foot in front of the other. Weight shifts as you step. Arms move opposite to legs for balance.”

Yinxin took a step. Then another. Then three more.

”I’m doing it!” Pride lit her features. ”I’m actually—”

She tripped over Shenxin, who had snuck back to investigate, and landed directly on top of Reiko.

[AGAIN?!] The shadowbeast’s mental voice was incredulous. [I’m not a cushion!]

”The hatchling was in the way!”

”Mother fell on uncle!” Shenxin reported gleefully. ”Again!”

Attempt number two went better. Yinxin made it halfway across the room before losing her balance. Attempt three, she reached the far wall. Attempt four, she managed a complete circuit.

And then Jayde noticed something.

”Yinxin... why are you walking like that?”

”Like what?” Yinxin looked down at herself. ”I’m copying how I saw women walk on Telia.”

Jayde’s eyes narrowed. The silver-haired woman was moving with a pronounced sway—hips rolling with each step, an exaggerated sashay that drew attention to certain areas in ways that were definitely intentional.

”Where... exactly did you observe women walking?”

”A district near the port. Very colorful. Lots of lights and music.” Yinxin seemed pleased with herself. ”The women there walked like this, and the males seemed very attentive to them. I assumed it was the proper technique for attracting attention.”

Jayde’s face went through several expressions in rapid succession. Horror. Realization. More horror.

Reiko, who had apparently figured it out at the same time, sent: [Oh no.]

”Yinxin.” Jayde’s voice had gone very careful. ”That was... that was not a place where respectable ladies walked.”

”But I am not a lady.” Yinxin looked genuinely confused. ”I am a dragon.”

”Yes, but when you’re in human form—”

”Why does form matter? Movement is movement.”

”It’s... humans have rules about...” Jayde struggled for words. ”Certain ways of walking imply certain... professions...”

She was holding Huaxin in her arms—the quietest wyrmling had climbed up during the lesson, seeking comfort. And without thinking, completely on instinct, Jayde covered her ears with her hands.

Yinxin stared at her.

”Why are you covering the hatchling’s ears?”

Jayde froze. Looked down at Huaxin, whose ears were indeed covered by her palms. Looked back at Yinxin.

”I... habit. Humans cover children’s ears when discussing adult topics.”

”But the hatchling cannot hear your telepathic speech.”

”...”

”...”

Jayde slowly removed her hands from Huaxin’s very confused ears. The wyrmling looked up at her with an expression that clearly asked why Aunty Jayde had suddenly decided to give her ear muffs.

”Right. Yes. I knew that.”

She buried her face in her free hand.

”Humans have very strange rules,” Yinxin observed.

”We really do.”

***

Teaching Yinxin to walk properly took another hour.

”Less hip. Less—no, less than that. Just... walk normally.”

”This IS normal.”

”That is not normal. That is advertising.”

”I don’t understand what I’m advertising.”

”YOURSELF, Yinxin. You’re advertising YOURSELF.”

”But I’m right here. Why would I need to advertise my location?”

Jayde made a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a scream.

The wyrmlings, who had given up on understanding what was happening, had turned the situation into a game. They were waddling behind their mother, copying her movements—three tiny dragons with pronounced hip sways, looking like the world’s strangest parade.

”No,” Jayde said, watching them. ”No, n,o no. Stop. Everyone, stop.”

”But we’re walking like mother!” Tianxin protested.

”Mother walks wrong.”

”Mother walks GREAT!”

Reiko, who had wisely stayed out of the walking lessons, was watching with barely concealed amusement. [This is the most entertainment I’ve had in months.]

[You’re not helping,] Jayde sent back.

[I know. Isn’t it wonderful?]

***

By the time Yinxin could walk without looking like she was soliciting customers, the evening had grown late. The wyrmlings were flagging again, worn out by the excitement of their mother’s transformation. Takara had long since fallen asleep in a corner, curled into a tight ball of white fur.

”Your turn,” Yinxin said, settling carefully onto a cushion in her human form. She was clearly exhausted—shapeshifting and walking lessons had drained her more than she’d expected. ”Reiko. You haven’t told us about your transformation.”

The massive shadowbeast shifted in his corner. The mercury rune on his forehead pulsed with faint light as he gathered his thoughts.

[It’s... complicated,] he sent finally. [When I was in the cocoon, something awakened. Old memories. Inherited knowledge. But it’s all jumbled, like—]

”Like trying to read a library that’s been shaken,” Yinxin finished softly. ”I understand.”

[Do you?] Reiko’s sapphire eyes met her golden ones. [Because I don’t. I don’t understand any of it. I have memories of things I’ve never seen, knowledge of techniques I’ve never learned, and this—] His paw touched the rune on his forehead. [This thing that pulses whenever I think about what I’m becoming.]

Yinxin was very still. Something flickered in her expression—recognition, quickly suppressed.

”What do you remember?” Jayde asked. ”Anything specific?”

[Fragments. Images without context. A path of cultivation that has nothing to do with what shadowbeasts usually practice.] Reiko’s frustration bled through the mental link. [It’s like being given a book in a language you don’t quite speak. I can feel that it’s important, but I can’t read it clearly.]

Yinxin took a breath. Made a decision.

”Reiko. I need to tell you something.”

He looked at her.

”You are no longer a shadowbeast.”

The words hung in the air. Reiko’s form went very still.

[What?]

”The cultivation path of shadowbeasts... it’s no longer valid for you. Whatever you became during the transformation—whatever those memories are trying to teach you—it’s something different. Something older.” Yinxin’s voice was gentle but firm. ”Your memories hold the answer. Your new path is there. But you must find it yourself.”

[You know what I am.] It wasn’t a question. [I can tell. You recognized something when you looked at me. That rune—you know what it means.]

Yinxin hesitated. She did know. The inherited memories were clear—that rune marked a fledgling beast lord, an heir to powers that predated the current age. But telling him...

”I know that you will become something magnificent,” she said finally. ”But the how is yours to discover. I cannot guide you in this. Only you can walk your own destiny.”

[That’s frustratingly vague.]

”Truth often is.”

Reiko was silent for a long moment. The rune on his forehead pulsed—once, twice, three times—before settling.

[Fine,] he sent finally. [Fine. I’ll figure it out myself. But when I do—when I understand what these memories are trying to tell me—you’re going to explain what you saw.]

”When you’re ready,” Yinxin agreed. ”I will.”

It was, they both knew, as close to a promise as either of them could make.

***

The night had grown late.

The wyrmlings were properly asleep now, piled in their usual tangle of wings and tails. Yinxin had shifted back to dragon form—she claimed it was more comfortable, but Jayde suspected she was simply exhausted from maintaining the transformation.

Reiko had retreated to his corner to meditate, trying to sort through the jumbled memories that wouldn’t let him rest. The mercury rune pulsed with his breathing, faint and steady.

Takara remained curled in his corner, a small ball of white fur that seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Only the occasional twitch of his ears suggested otherwise.

And Jayde sat in the quiet, turning over everything she’d learned.

Silver Queens who had forgotten how to fight. A legacy of tragedy spanning eleven thousand years. A sister driven to suicide. A mother who died of heartbreak. And Yinxin, carrying all of it, was trying to make sense of memories that weren’t quite hers.

(She’s going to be okay,) Jade whispered in the back of her mind. (She has us now.)

Tactical assessment: Subject ”Yinxin” has been given purpose and direction. Combat training will improve survival odds. Emotional support from the pack unit will facilitate psychological recovery.

(Sometimes you’re really cold, you know that?)

I am realistic. Realistic is not cold.

(It’s a little cold.)

...perhaps.

Jayde smiled slightly. Even her internal voices were learning to compromise.

”Tomorrow,” she said quietly to the sleeping room. ”Tomorrow, we start getting stronger. All of us.”

No one answered. They were all too tired, too drained, too full of emotions that would need time to process.

But in the silence, she felt something shift. A sense of purpose was settling over their strange little family. A direction, after months of chaos and transformation.

They would train. They would grow. They would face whatever came next.

Together.