I noticed you before you touched me.

That should’ve been the first red flag. I don’t usually pay attention to other dragons. I try not to. It’s easier that way—less chance of hurting someone. Less chance of getting my hopes up that maybe this time, I won’t destroy everything I care about.

But you walked through the hallway like you belonged. Like you didn’t notice the others stepping aside, casting wary glances at me from the corners of their eyes. I caught myself watching you, your posture too relaxed, your face unreadable. I told myself it didn’t matter. That you were just another dragon who’d learn, eventually, to fear me like the rest.

Then you brushed my wing.

I spun around so fast the air crackled around me. “Don’t touch me!” I hissed.

You blinked at me like I was the one acting strange. “Sorry,” you said casually, glancing at the place our scales had met. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

I stared. Your scales weren’t blackened. There were no signs of burns, no acrid smell of scorched hide. No smoke curling off your side.

“What—what are you?” I breathed.

Your expression shifted slightly, but you didn’t step back. “A dragon,” you said. “Last I checked.”

“You touched me,” I snapped, louder than I meant to. “No one touches me and walks away without a mark.”

You frowned thoughtfully, then held out your talon—held it out, like an idiot. “Go on, try again.”

“Are you trying to die?” I recoiled like your stupidity was contagious. “What kind of dragon just volunteers to get incinerated?”

“I just want to see if it happens again,” you said, unfazed. “Maybe it was a fluke.”

I stared at your outstretched talon, heat crackling down my spine. “If I touch you and your scales melt off, that’s your fault. Not mine.”

“Fair enough.”

Reluctantly, I reached out. And nothing happened.

No hiss of steam. No smoke. Just the faint pressure of your talon against mine, like it was any other ordinary day.

Like I was any other ordinary dragon.

I jerked my talon back. “That’s not possible.”

“I guess it is now.”

“No. No, no, no. This doesn’t make sense.” I started pacing, talons digging into the stone floor. “You shouldn’t be okay. I should’ve—your wing should be ash.”

You sat down like you had all the time in the world. “Maybe I’m immune.”

“No one is immune to me.”

“Looks like I am.”

And that’s when I knew I was doomed.