The wheat field burned with an unnatural purple fire. Aean Thatch stood at his porch railing, lanterns swinging from his callous hand, watching smoke curl into the star-filled sky. 20 years on this frontier world, and he’d never seen anything like it. Meteors burned white or orange. This was wrong. He should call the colonial authorities, report it, let someone else handle whatever had just cratered his north field.

Instead, he grabbed his plasma cutter just in case and walked toward the smoke. The wheat crackled underfoot, still smoldering. In the center of the destruction sat something that definitely wasn’t a meteor, an escape pod, maybe 15 ft long. Its surface covered in scales that seemed to shift colors in the fire light.

 Organic technology. Alien. Aean’s gut twisted. Aliens meant trouble. Always had. The pod side had cracked open like an egg. vapor hissing from the breach. He raised his lantern peering inside. Five pairs of eyes stared back at him. They were small, no bigger than barn cats with bodies covered in iridescent scales.

 Tiny wings folded against their sides. Horns barely nubs crowned their elongated heads. One was deepest crimson, another slate gray, a third burnt orange, the fourth pure white, and the smallest shimmerred like oil on water. They chirped, high-pitched, desperate sounds. “Oh, hell,” Aean whispered. He knew what they were. Every human on the frontier knew.

 The broadcast, the warnings, the horror stories from colony worlds that had been raised. Dragonid hatchlings, baby dragons. The crimson one crawled forward on unsteady legs, tumbling out of the pod. It looked up at Aean with eyes that seemed far too intelligent, far too aware. Then it chirped again and pressed its warm body against his boot.

 The others followed, clamoring over each other to reach him. They surrounded his feet, making soft trilling sounds, their scales warming his skin even through his pants. “No,” Aean said firmly. “No, no, no, I’m not. You need to go back in there. The smallest one, the oil shimmer, looked up at him and opened its mouth. Your people will come for you.

 A tiny tongue of flame flickered out, no bigger than a candle’s worth. They’d imprinted on him. Aean had raised enough livestock to know what that meant. First thing they saw, first warmth, they felt their parent as far as their infant brains understood. Damn it. He couldn’t leave them here. Colonial defense would find them, dissect them, turn them into weapons research.

 And when the dragonade came looking and they would they’d burn this entire sector looking for their young, the crimson one climbed his leg, claws surprisingly gentle. It settled on his shoulder warm as a heating pad and nuzzled his neck. Aiman sighed. This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. He scooped up the other four, tucking them against his chest.

 They purrred, actually purrred, snuggling into his jacket. Behind him, lights appeared on the horizon, fastm moving, multiple vehicles. Someone had seen the crash. Aean ran for his house, five baby dragons chirping contendedly in his arms, and his quiet life burning down behind him like his wheat field. His barn doors were already scorched by the time he locked himself inside.

Nine days. That’s how long Aean kept his secret. Nine chaotic, exhausting, terrifying days of hiding. five rapidly growing dragons from his neighbors, the colonial authorities, and every sensor sweep that passed overhead. They doubled in size. The crimson one, he’d started calling her Ember, was now the size of a large dog.

 The others weren’t far behind. His barn was a disaster. Ash, the slate gray male, had melted his toolbench. Cinder, the burnt orange female, had set his hay pile on fire three times. Flare, the white male, kept trying to fly and crashing into the rafters. and smoke, the smallest, had discovered she could breathe a noxious black vapor that made Aean’s eyes water.

He was exhausted, broke, and running out of excuses for why his livestock had mysteriously escaped to his southern pasture. The knock on his door came at sunset. Aean froze, one hand on Ember’s snout to keep her quiet. Through the window, he saw a woman in civilian clothes, medical bags slung over her shoulder.

 Aean Thatch. Her voice carried authority despite its softness. I’m Elena Cortez, traveling medic. Your neighbor, Mara Voss, said you might need supplies. He cracked the door. I’m fine. Elena’s dark eyes studied him, taking in the burns on his forearms, the soot in his hair, the exhaustion carved into his face.

 You look like you’re fighting a war in there. Just farm accidents. Her gaze shifted past him to where Smoke’s tail was visible behind a hay bale. The tail flickered with inner light. Elena’s expression didn’t change. I see. May I come in? Those burns need treatment. Aean hesitated, then stepped aside. She entered calmly, setting her bag down.

 Only when the door closed did she look at the five dragons emerging from their hiding spots, watching her with cautious curiosity. Holy stars, she breathed. They’re beautiful. Not the reaction he’d expected. Elena approached slowly, hand extended. Ember sniffed her fingers, then allowed her touch. How long since the crash? They imprinted. I know.

 Elena pulled out burned sav gesturing for him to sit. The whole valley’s talking about something crashing in your field. Colonial defense sent investigators. They found the pod. Aemon’s blood went cold. They know? Not yet, but they’re scanning for biological signatures. Her hands were gentle as she treated his burns close enough that he could smell lavender in her hair.

 You can’t hide them much longer. I can’t give them up. They’re just babies. Elena’s jaw tightened. I lost my brother to a Dconed raid. 5 years ago, they burned his colony ship. 300 people turned to ash. She looked at the dragons, something complicated flickering across her face. But these, they’re children. They didn’t choose violence.

So, what do I do? Before she could answer, engines roared overhead, military grade. Three armored transports landed in his yard, kicking up dust. Soldiers poured out, weapons raised. A tall man in a colonel’s uniform strode forward. Aean Thatch, Colonial Defense Force. You’re harboring illegal biological entities.

Colonel Victor Reigns. Aean recognized him from the broadcasts. Hero of the Border Wars. Ruthless and efficient. The Dragons growled, fire building in their throats. Elena grabbed Aiman’s arm. Don’t let them take the hatchlings. Reigns runs the bioweapons division. 48 hours. That’s all Aean had before both forces would attack.

Colonel Reigns had retreated to establish a perimeter. Warm Master Kravik ship hovered in orbit, a constant threat. Both sides wanted the same thing, the Dragons, but for entirely different reasons. Aean sat on his porch at midnight, Ember’s massive head resting in his lap. She’d grown again. All of them had.

 They were now the size of horses, their intelligence sharper each day. The door creaked. Elena emerged with two cups of coffee settling beside him. “Can’t sleep either?” she asked. “How can I?” he gestured at the dragon sprawled across his yard. I’m about to start an interstellar war over five kids who accidentally adopted me.

 Elena smiled sadly. They didn’t accidentally do anything. Look at them. Smoke was curled protectively around the house’s foundation. Ash and Cinder flanked the driveway. Flare perched on the barn roof, scanning the horizon. They were guarding him. “They know what’s coming,” Elena said softly.

 “And they’re choosing you anyway.” Aean turned to her. “Why are you still here? You could leave. should leave. I could. Her fingers found his in the darkness. But I watched my brother burn because someone decided dragons were monsters. These five, they’re proof that maybe we’ve been wrong. Maybe there’s another way.

 Her touch sent warmth through him that had nothing to do with dragon fire. I lost everything once, Elena continued, her voice barely a whisper. I thought I’d never trust again, never feel safe again, but watching you with them. She looked at him and in her eyes he saw something raw and vulnerable. You make me want to believe in something better.

Aean’s breath caught. Elena. She leaned closer, her free hand touching his face. I know this is insane. I know we might die tomorrow, but I need you to know. He kissed her, gentle at first, then deeper as she responded, her fingers threading through his hair. The coffee cups forgotten, the whirl reduced to the warmth between them.

 The desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, they could survive this. When they pulled apart, both breathless, Ember made a pleased rumbling sound. Elena laughed softly, wiping her eyes. Even the dragon approves. She’s a good judge of character. Aean kept her close. Stay with me. Whatever happens, try to make me leave. Dawn came too quickly.

Mara Voss arrived first, driving a hauler full of farming equipment. That definitely wasn’t farming equipment. The tough widow climbed out, followed by a dozen neighbors. People Aean had shared harvest with, traded livestock with, barely spoken to beyond weather talk. “Heard you got trouble,” Mara said simply. “Figured you could use help.

” “This isn’t your fight.” “You’re our neighbor. That makes it our fight.” She nodded to the others. We brought weapons, food, medical supplies, and a whole lot of stubbornness. Tears pricked Ammon’s eyes. Thank you. Thank us by living. By noon, they’d fortified the ranch. Barricades, trenches, firing positions.

The dragons watched curiously, Ember occasionally moving materials with surprising precision. Then both threats arrived simultaneously. Rain’s forces from the east, Kravik’s warriors from the west. and Aean standing in the middle protecting five dragons who refused to abandon him. The first shot came from Reigns’s line.

 A plasma bolt screamed past Aean’s head and all hell broke loose. Ember roared, unleashing a torrent flame that melted the ground between them and the colonial forces. The other dragons spread their wings, creating a wall of fire and fury around the ranch. “Hold positions!” Mara shouted, her rifle spitting suppression fire at advancing soldiers.

 The farmers fought with desperate courage, protecting their neighbor against impossible odds. From the west, Kravik’s warriors charged, massive drainids wielding energy blades that hummed with lethal power. They weren’t attacking the ranch. They were attacking the human soldiers. “The enemy of my enemy,” Aean thought grimly. “But it wouldn’t last.

” “Once Reigns was dealt with, Kravik would take the hatchlings by force.” Elena worked frantically, pulling wounded farmers to cover, stabilizing injuries with practiced efficiency. A stray plasma bolt struck near her position, and smoke immediately covered her with one wing, black vapor, creating a protective cloud.

 “Good girl!” Elena gasped, touching the dragon’s scaled hide with gratitude. The battle intensified. Reigns deployed mechanized armor, bipeedal weapons platforms that shrugged off dragon fire. Kravik’s warriors met them with brutal efficiency, claws rending through metal-like paper. Aemon ran toward the barn where Flair was cornered by three soldiers with neuronal nets. No.

He threw himself between them and the white dragon and paid the price. Pain exploded through his chest. The plasma bolt had caught him square, burning through flesh and bone. He collapsed, vision blurring. Eman Elena’s scream cut through the chaos. Ember’s roar shook the ground. She descended on the soldiers like divine retribution, scattering them with sweeps of her tail and blasts of flame.

 The other dragons converged, creating a protective circle around Aean’s fallen body. Elena reached him seconds later, hands already working. Stay with me. Don’t you dare leave me now. His blood soaked her hands. Too much blood. The dragons, he gasped. Forget the dragons. Look at me. Tears streamed down her face as she worked with desperate speed, injecting coagulants, sealing wounds, fighting death itself with sheer determination.

The dragon’s grief manifested as rage. Smoke released a vapor so thick and toxic that entire sections of both armies retreated, choking. Ash’s scales glowed white hot, melting weaponry just from proximity. Cinder and flare coordinated attacks with terrifying intelligence, driving wedges between enemy formations.

and Ember. Ember raised her head and sang. It wasn’t a roar. It was a song, haunting, ancient, carrying across dimensions. A distress call that transcended species, language, time itself. In orbit, something vast stirred. No, Kravik whispered, freezing mid battle. His warrior stopped, dropping to one knee in reverence.

A ship descended. Not a warship, something larger, older, adorned with precious metals and flowing energy. The scale patterns marked it as royalty. The matriarch had arrived. Elena pressed her forehead to Aean’s, her tears falling on his face. Stay alive, please. I love you. Do you hear me? I love you.

 His hand found hers, grip weak, but present. Love you, too. The matriarch ship touched down, and the galaxy held its breath. Matriarch Sir emerged like walking legend. She dwarfed even Kravik. Her scales a mesmerizing blend of gold and deep violet. Wings that seem to capture starlight itself. Ancient beyond measure, powerful beyond comprehension.

Every Draenid present prostrated themselves. Reigns’ forces hesitated, weapons trained, but fingers uncertain on triggers. Sir’s gaze swept the battlefield, then settled on the five hatchlings surrounding Aean’s barely conscious form. Her expression was unreadable. “Rise,” she commanded Kravik, her voice resonating with harmonic frequencies that made human teeth ache.

The war master stood, head bowed. “Matriarch, the young ones are bonded to a human, her eyes, vast and knowing, fixed on Aean. I felt the call. Ember song, a daughter’s desperate plea to save her father. He is not their father, Kravik protested. He is. What makes a parent war master? Serith glided forward, her presence parting soldiers like water, DNA or sacrifice, biology or love? She stopped before Ember, who stood defiant despite facing a being of immense power.

You would die for him, Sherith observed. Ember’s growl was affirmative. All five dragons pressed closer to Aean, willing to fight even their own matriarch. Something shifted in Sir’s ancient eyes. Wonder perhaps or recognition. She turned to Reigns, who’d emerged from his command vehicle.

 Colonel, you would take these young ones for weapons research. It wasn’t a question. For humanity’s protection, Re said carefully. Your kind has burned our worlds and yours has poisoned ours. We are enemies forged by fear and justified by revenge. Sir’s gaze returned to Aean where Elena cradled his head. Her love unmistakable. Yet here, two species find common ground.

 Not through treaties, through family. She knelt, an action that sent shock waves through every Dconed present. Her massive hand, clawed and scaled, touched Ammon’s forehead with impossible gentleness. Warmth flowed from her touch, healing energy that stabilized his failing body. “I name you Flamefather,” Sir declared. “First human to earn such title.

 These five are yours by bond right as recognized by Draconid Law.” Kravik’s shock was palpable. “Matriarch, this is unprecedented. Many unprecedented things happened today.” She rose, addressing both armies. I declare this ground neutral, sacred. No human nor drainage shall bring weapons here. This farm becomes an embassy, a bridge between our kinds.

Rain stepped forward. The colonial government won’t accept. They will. Sarah’s tone brooke no argument because the alternative is war. Total war. Your kind cannot win, but you also cannot lose without destroying yourselves. She gestured to the dragons protecting Aean. These five prove coexistence is possible.

 Would you destroy that hope for pride? Silence. Then from behind reigns, one of his soldiers lowered his weapon. Then another. Then a dozen more. Mara Voss walked into the open. Her rifle slung over her shoulder. I’m just a farmer, but I know hope when I see it, and I know madness. We’ve had enough madness. Other locals joined her.

 then some of Reigns’s own troops. The colonel stared at his fragmenting authority, then at Aean, a simple farmer who’d sparked something impossible. Finally, he holstered his sidearm. “I’ll take this to the governor,” he said quietly. “But if they reject it, “They won’t,” Elena said, her voice carrying unexpected steel.

 “Because I’m the governor’s daughter, and I’ll testify to everything that happened here.” Aemon’s eyes widened. You’re She smiled through her tears. Surprise! I ran away from politics 5 years ago. Guess I’m running back now. 6 months later, the ranch had transformed. Not just rebuilt, expanded. Draconid architecture blended with human, creating something entirely new.

Representatives from both species walked the grounds, negotiating treaties, sharing knowledge, slowly building trust. The five dragons, now fully grown, served as living symbols. They’d learned both cultures, spoke both languages, bridged gaps with their mere existence. Aean watched from his porch as Ember demonstrated flight patterns to a group of aruck human children.

 Smoke was teaching Draconid youngsters about human agriculture. The others served as ambassadors, proof that peace wasn’t just possible, it was happening. Elena emerged from their home, their home. carrying two glasses of wine. She settled into his arms, her head against his chest where his scar still achd on cold days.

 “Governor’s pushing for permanent embassy status,” she murmured. “Sir agrees. We’re actually doing this.” “Never thought I’d be a diplomat.” “You’re not. You’re a father. The best kind.” She turned to kiss him slow and deep and full of promise. Speaking of which, she placed his hand on her stomach. Aean’s breath caught. Are you? 3 months.

 Human Dracon at Embassy is about to get its first fully human baby. Her smile was radiant. Think the dragons will be good aunties and uncles. Ember rumbled approvingly from across the yard, somehow having heard despite the distance. Aean laughed, pulling Elena closer as sunset painted the sky in dragonfire colors.

 Behind them, Kravik, now chief of security, shared a drink with Mara Voss, their unlikely friendship forged in battle. Sir visited occasionally, always with the same question. How fair is the flame father? And Aean’s answer never changed. At peace, matriarch, finally at peace. The quiet farmer had found his family in the most impossible way.

 And in saving them, he’d saved two civilizations from destroying each other. All because five baby dragons chose love over instinct. And he chose them back.