Aunlon's Arc

Chapter 4 of 4

The eldest grows faster than Aunlon expected. By midday, the pale hatchling is already twice the size they were at dawn. Their scales darken from milk-white to gray, then to something close to Aunlon's own purple. Their limbs steady. Their eyes sharpen. Aunlon watches Aunril lift their head and test their weight on new legs. The hatchling takes three steps toward the nest's edge, then stops. They turn back and look at Aunlon with those green eyes—calm, focused. "I need to go," Aunril says. Not a question. Aunlon's chest tightens. They want to say no, to keep the eldest close where they can see them. But Aunril is already scanning the grounds beyond the archway, already shifting their stance like a guard. Kipril stands slowly from the vigil post and moves beside Aunlon. "What does he need?" Kipril asks. Aunlon doesn't know how to answer that. The eldest shouldn't need anything yet—they only just hatched. Aunril walks to the boundary where the old fence used to stand, before Aunlon moved the nest here. Small asteroids float in a loose ring around the grounds now, glowing faintly with the barrier's hum. Aunril stops at the edge and places something down—a small metal panel, dark glass catching the light. It looks like a marker, or a warning. Then Aunril steps through the barrier and disappears into the outer grounds. Aunlon's arm trembles. Kipril's hand finds theirs and squeezes once. "He'll come back," Kipril says. Aunlon wants to believe that. The remaining eggs in their pouch pulse twice, restless again. They need Aunlon here. Aunril needs to be out there. This is the cost of hatching—everyone becomes themselves, and Aunlon has to let them. Aunlon sits back down at the archway, legs folding carefully beneath them. Kipril settles beside them again, shoulder pressing warm against Aunlon's side. The metal panel Aunril left behind glints at the barrier's edge, a sign that this ground is watched. Aunlon doesn't know if they can do this—trust someone else to keep them safe while they stay with the eggs. But Aunril isn't asking permission. He's already gone. Aunlon looks at Kipril, who's watching the barrier with steady eyes. "I wanted to keep him close," Aunlon says quietly. Kipril nods. "You can't," they say. "Not anymore." Aunlon knows it's true. The eggs shift again, calmer now, responding to both of them here together. Aunlon made space for Kipril to stay. Now they have to make space for Aunril to leave. That's what family means—everyone gets to be complete, even when it costs something.