The sky over northern Kentucky had turned the color of old brass by mid-morning. Malik kept the formation tight, gold wings cutting steady arcs while he scanned the patchwork below: fields giving way to small towns, highways threading between gas stations and diners. Sirens wailed in the distance, faint but persistent, like a headache that refused to fade.

  Zoe rode on Lena's back now, sapphire wings folded tight against her mother's ruby scales. The girl was quiet, face pressed into Lena's neck, too tired to chatter. Lena flew with mechanical grace, ruby eyes sweeping left and right, never resting. Darius trailed at the rear, emerald wings beating slower than before. Smoke leaked from his nostrils in thin, constant curls. He had not spoken since the clearing.

  Malik glanced back. "We're close to the state line. Another hour, maybe less, and we'll see the farm."

  Darius grunted. His voice came out rough. "Good."

  The word sounded hollow.

  A cluster of buildings appeared ahead: a gas station, a fast-food sign, a standalone liquor store with a flickering neon LIQUOR sign still burning in daylight. Darius's head snapped toward it. His pupils blew wide. A low sound rumbled in his chest, not quite a growl, almost a whine.

  Malik felt the shift in the air before he saw it: Darius's wingbeats changed, sudden and desperate. "Dad. Look away."

  Darius did not answer. His wings tucked. He dove.

  "Darius!" Lena called.

  Too late.

  Darius hit the storefront like a missile. Glass exploded outward in a glittering wave. The alarm shrieked instantly, high and panicked. Shelves toppled inside. Bottles shattered on impact. Neon shards rained across the parking lot.

  Malik banked hard, diving after him. Lena followed, Zoe clinging tight.

  Inside the store, Darius staggered to his feet amid broken glass and spilled liquor. The clerk, a young man in a red vest, ducked behind the counter with a yelp as he dropped his phone mid-911 call. An older customer dropped his coffee and ran for the door to the office. A woman with a six-pack froze mid-step, then dropped the cans and raced for the back of the store

  Darius's claws ripped through an aisle. Bottles exploded under his tail. Whiskey poured across the linoleum in amber rivers. He snatched the biggest bottle in reach, a handle of cheap house whiskey, tore the cap off with his teeth, and tilted it back.

  Massive swallows. Gulp after gulp. The burn hit his throat, sharp and familiar. For half a heartbeat he waited for the blur, the warmth, the quiet.

  Nothing.

  Dragon blood laughed at ethanol. It burned away in seconds, processed like any other poison. The taste lingered, taunting, sharpening every raw nerve. Craving turned to knife-edge agony. Shame flooded in behind it.

  He roared. Flame licked from his jaws. He swung the bottle like a club. Shelves toppled. More glass rained. He kept drinking, desperate, emptying half the bottle in seconds, then hurled it at a wall. It shattered but did nothing. The madness only grew louder.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  He stumbled forward. Claws gouged the counter. Tail lashed racks over. Smoke poured from his nostrils in thick plumes. He snatched another bottle, ripped the top off, gulped again. Still nothing. Only the taste, mocking him, driving the withdrawal tremors into full-body convulsions.

  The clerk screamed for help. Customers fled. Darius kept moving, blind, self-directed fury tearing through the store. He was not attacking people. He was attacking everything else.

  Outside, Malik landed hard in the parking lot, wings flared to block the shattered entrance. "Dad!"

  Lena touched down beside him, shielding Zoe with her body. "Zoe, look away."

  Zoe peeked anyway. "Dad...?"

  Darius whirled inside the wreckage. Eyes bloodshot. Scales streaked with whiskey, blood from glass cuts, soot from his own smoke. Bottle half-raised like a weapon. "It's not working! Nothing works!"

  Malik stepped through the broken storefront, boots crunching glass. "Dad. Enough."

  Darius snarled. "Back off!"

  Malik did not back off. He stepped closer. A low hum rose in his throat, instinctive, carrying a faint violet-gold shimmer that rippled outward like heat haze. It rolled out like a blanket, wrapping Darius, slowing the tremors, dulling the razor-edge craving just enough.

  Darius's knees buckled. He dropped to the floor amid broken bottles and spilled liquor. The empty handle rolled away. Smoke curled slow and defeated. "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry..."

  Malik knelt beside him. "We know."

  Lena landed just outside the doorway, Zoe still clinging to her. Zoe whispered, "Dad...?"

  Darius looked up. Eyes wet. "I almost lost it back there. For real. I could have hurt someone."

  Lena's voice stayed steady. "You didn't. That's something."

  Sirens screamed closer. Red and blue lights flashed at the edge of the parking lot.

  Malik looked up. "We can't stay. Not here."

  Darius let Malik and Lena help him up. Shaking. Humiliated. But the sound was still there, steadying him.

  They lifted off together. Malik bore most of Darius's weight again. They left the ruined store behind, alarms still screaming, whiskey pooling on the floor like spilled blood.

  A few miles away they found thick woods with no roads nearby. They landed hard.

  Darius sat apart. Head in claws. Smoke curling thin and defeated. "I almost lost it back there. For real."

  Lena knelt beside him. Clawed hand on his scaled shoulder. "You didn't hurt anyone. That's something."

  Zoe crept over. Hugged his leg despite the smoke. "We still love you, Dad."

  Malik watched from a little distance. Golden eyes troubled.

  A distant chime rang again, stronger, clearer. A violet-gold ripple passed through his vision, and that towering silhouette watched.

  He muttered to himself, "Whatever rang that bell...it's not done with us."

  Home was close.

  But the sky felt smaller every minute.

  And they were running out of time.