—Broadcast—
Wendy returned to the lair later than usual that evening, which immediately attracted her monster mother's attention. Grandine's senses were far more acute than any human's—she could detect subtle changes in her daughter's behavior, scent, emotional state.
And tonight, Wendy carried the unmistakable scent of a strange human on her skin and clothing.
Fearing that the little one she'd raised with such care would be deceived and harmed by her own kind again—remembering the village torches, the screaming rejection, the sobbing child who'd returned broken-hearted—the monster mother decided immediate action was necessary.
Grandine took Wendy in her mouth gently and flew directly to the sanctuary where Donquixote Mjosgard was hiding. Time to clear potential obstacles before they could hurt her daughter.
Better to eliminate threats early than mourn losses later.
The man hiding in the girl's treasure cave had discovered a bottle of rum among her eclectic collection. For someone who'd survived shipwreck and days of desperate thirst, this alcohol held fatal attraction.
He'd opened the lid and gulped the liquor down greedily, barely tasting it. The rum was poor quality—probably salvaged from some merchant wreck years ago—but it took effect quickly on his dehydrated, weakened body.
Saint Mjosgard felt his vision blurring. His thoughts became loose and disconnected. He began experiencing what he assumed were hallucinations—side effects of trauma and alcohol mixing dangerously.
A massive white creature descended from the sky like divine judgment made manifest. The powerful wind generated by its wingbeats blew sand and debris in every direction, forcing the man to shield his face with his arms.
Through his fingers, he saw his young savior held in the monster's mouth—her small form cradled between teeth larger than his forearm.
At first, Saint Mjosgard convinced himself this was alcohol-induced delirium. Stress hallucinations following his shipwreck ordeal. The mind playing tricks on a traumatized survivor.
But then the creature opened its mouth and released a terrifying scream. The sound waves physically vibrated through Mjosgard's skull, rattling his teeth in their sockets, making his eardrums feel like they might rupture.
His brain began sobering up with desperate speed.
This time, Saint Mjosgard was completely, terrifyingly lucid.
Fear—humanity's most primitive emotion—made the man break out in cold sweat that had nothing to do with tropical heat. His life hung in precarious balance before an apex predator's judgment.
"Human," the feathered monster spoke in perfectly articulated human language, voice carrying alien harmonics that suggested vocal cords never meant for such sounds. "Why are you here? This is not the place for you. This territory is forbidden."
After a brief moment of paralyzing shock—monsters could talk?—Saint Mjosgard immediately began defending himself. Words tumbled out in desperate explanation.
He didn't intend to trespass on sacred territory! He was merely an unfortunate shipwreck victim! Pure accident, no malice, please don't kill him!
While describing his maritime disaster with frantic detail, Saint Mjosgard deliberately omitted his identity as a Celestial Dragon. He feared this obviously intelligent creature might harbor justifiable hatred for the God Clan—and that such animosity would cause him to suffer unprovoked death for crimes committed by others wearing his same title.
Ever since being rescued by Queen Otohime during his previous shipwreck near Fish-Man Island—that gentle queen who'd shown him compassion despite everything Celestial Dragons had done to her people—Saint Mjosgard had turned over a new leaf entirely.
He'd stopped enslaving people. Freed all slaves under his direct control. Begun questioning the fundamental assumptions of Celestial Dragon supremacy.
This transformation made him a rare flower within the Donquixote family. An outlier among the God Clan whose very existence challenged their supposed divine nature.
But this careful deception proved futile against Wendy's mother. The monster possessed capabilities far beyond multilingual fluency.
"This is the first time I've encountered a Celestial Dragon like you," Grandine observed, her telepathic abilities penetrating Mjosgard's thoughts effortlessly. "The title of 'god' is sometimes a yoke rather than a crown. You carry it like a burden you wish to discard."
Mjosgard's eyes widened with shock. "You can eavesdrop on my thoughts? Read my mind directly?"
He'd only witnessed this ability once before—in Queen Otohime, whose Observation Haki had reached such refinement she could sense others' emotions and surface thoughts. He'd never expected telepathy to manifest in a monster.
Before this creature, he had no secrets whatsoever. He was stripped naked on a psychological level, every guilty memory and shameful thought laid bare for examination.
If this had been a Celestial Dragon who'd committed countless evils—one who'd branded slaves, murdered for entertainment, raped with impunity—Wendy's mother Grandine would have crushed him to death with one massive claw. No hesitation. No mercy. She couldn't allow society's scum to corrupt her beloved daughter.
Fortunately, after Saint Mjosgard's genuine reformation, even his facial features had changed. He now looked like an honest man at first glance—open expression, kind eyes, none of the cruel arrogance typical of his class.
This appearance combined with complete lack of malicious intent on a subjective level saved his life that night.
Had this encounter occurred a few years earlier, Grandine would never have allowed Wendy close contact with her own species regardless of individual character. But circumstances had changed.
Her time was ending. She could feel it with certainty—the way dying creatures always knew when their final season approached.
Before she left this world, Grandine wanted her daughter to take the first step. The first step toward rejoining the world beyond this isolated island. Wendy couldn't remain trapped here for her entire existence. She needed to experience the wonderful, terrible, complicated world outside.
And Saint Mjosgard—a well-traveled, reformed Celestial Dragon with genuine kindness and vast knowledge—became Wendy's ideal lecturer.
Over the following weeks, the man taught the girl about external civilization through vivid oral narration. He painted pictures with words of magnificent cities, diverse cultures, technological marvels.
There were beautiful clothes in infinite varieties! Delicious foods from every climate and culture! Kind people who showed compassion to strangers!
While describing the world's beautiful aspects, Saint Mjosgard deliberately interspersed warnings about darker realities. He didn't want his friend Wendy trusting other strangers too easily when she eventually left this island. Naive trust would only invite exploitation and heartbreak.
The dangers of the outside world couldn't be fully summarized in mere words, but he tried his best to prepare her.
He also deliberately concealed detailed information about the Celestial Dragons themselves. Saint Mjosgard didn't want his identity becoming an obstacle between their friendship. The God Clan had committed so many sins over eight centuries that even if their entire generation died out, they could never adequately atone.
Better she learned about that ugliness gradually rather than all at once.
Gradually, after dozens of days spent together, the man and the girl became close friends who could discuss anything. The age difference didn't matter. Social class meant nothing on this isolated island.
In these leisurely days, Saint Mjosgard began forgetting his obligation to return to Mary Geoise. He always felt genuinely happy with the girl—a simple, uncomplicated joy he'd never experienced in the holy land.
Life in Mary Geoise had been suffocating. Overwhelming. A gilded prison of ridiculous customs and casual cruelty.
Here, he could breathe.
But happy days always proved too short.
Saint Mjosgard's father had grown desperately concerned about his missing son. He'd sent World Government ships to search the shipwreck site systematically.
After extensive layers of searching expanding outward from last known coordinates, they'd finally located the island where Wendy lived.
The separation came suddenly, with barely any warning.
Before leaving, Saint Mjosgard made a solemn promise to the girl: he would return by ship periodically to visit his friend. He'd bring the best things civilization offered to Wendy, allowing his savior to enjoy superior material comforts she'd never experienced.
This trustworthy Celestial Dragon proved true to his word.
He returned to the island less than ten days after his initial departure, bringing several large ships filled with gifts. Mountains of presents thanking Wendy for saving his life, expressing gratitude no amount of treasure could adequately convey.
He planned to stay on the island for several days this visit, spending quality time with his friend.
Among the many gifts, cakes and pastries proved most revolutionary for Wendy's palate. The girl who'd never tasted refined sugar or cream since birth fell utterly in love with desserts after just one bite.
The texture! The sweetness! The incredible variety of flavors!
Wendy attacked the delicacies brought by her good friend with beast-like appetite, consuming everything with terrifying efficiency. The carefully prepared supplies disappeared in just two days of constant eating.
Originally, Saint Mjosgard had estimated these provisions could feed Wendy for more than ten days at normal consumption rates. However, he'd failed to account for the simple fact that although the girl looked small and slender, her appetite was a bottomless pit.
An ordinary family couldn't possibly afford feeding such a massive eater. She'd bankrupt them within weeks.
When questioned about this remarkable capacity, Wendy simply shrugged. "Mother says I need lots of food because I'm still growing. And everything you brought tasted so good I couldn't stop!"
Saint Mjosgard laughed despite the logistical headache this created. He'd simply bring more supplies next time. What was money to a Celestial Dragon if not a tool for making friends happy?
As for why the man felt such natural affection for the girl—enough to visit repeatedly, spend weeks on this isolated island, shower her with expensive gifts—observers might misunderstand his motivations.
But Saint Mjosgard was absolutely not a lolicon. He possessed zero romantic or sexual interest in his young savior Wendy. He'd always regarded the girl as a beloved younger sister, and outsiders wouldn't question a Celestial Dragon recognizing someone as a god-sister.
Familial bonds weren't restricted by blood among the nobility. Adoption and recognition ceremonies happened frequently.
However, nobody—least of all Mjosgard himself—would have guessed that these two people actually shared genuine blood relation.
Grandine revealed this truth the night before the man's final departure, choosing her timing with deliberate care.
The massive feathered dragon addressed them both with solemn gravity: "I have sensed your blood through telepathic resonance and discovered commonalities. You two are half-siblings sharing one parent. This can never be false—bloodlines speak truths mouths cannot."
Saint Mjosgard was utterly stunned by the divine bird's words, standing frozen as his entire understanding of the situation reorganized itself.
Wendy appeared equally at a loss. The girl suddenly had a blood relative? She'd never imagined possessing family of her own species, someone who shared her genetic inheritance.
But both of them believed the monster's pronouncement completely. Grandine wouldn't fabricate something so important, wouldn't play cruel tricks on two people she'd allowed to become friends.
And choosing this specific moment to reveal the truth—the night before permanent separation—was also a necessary decision born from difficult circumstances.
Grandine sensed that her life was rapidly approaching its end. She could no longer accompany Wendy through the years ahead. Living with her adopted daughter had helped the ancient creature regain memories she'd thought lost forever.
Human memories. Emotions and experiences from before her transformation into this draconic form.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Writing takes time, coffee, and a lot of love.If you'd like to support my work, join me at [email protected]/GoldenGaruda
You'll get early access to over 50 chapters, selection on new series, and the satisfaction of knowing your support directly fuels more stories.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~