Limitless Evolution As a Snake

And a nervous energy buzzing off him like a bad wifi signal, the other built like he’s spent his whole life hitting things and enjoying it a little too much.

"Matthew," Dad says, gesturing between them like he’s presenting a couple of prized cattle. "These are your uncles. Hansen and Harden."

Both of them try to smile at me.

It is, without exaggeration, one of the worst attempts at a friendly expression I have ever witnessed in my life. Hansen’s mouth twitches up at the corners like it’s fighting against years of muscle memory that says don’t do that, and something flickers out from between his lips for half a second, gone before I can fully process it.

Harden doesn’t even bother hiding the effort, jaw tight, eyes doing this thing where they’re smiling but nothing else on his face got the memo.

[System: Oh mate, oh no. They hate you. They hate you so much.]

Yeah, thanks, Old Mate, real helpful, very supportive; I can’t tell that at all.

[System: I’m just saying. Look at them. That’s not a smile. That’s a bloke trying not to vomit at a funeral.]

I hold my head high, coils loose and relaxed, like I didn’t just slither into a room full of people who look like they want to feed me to something with teeth.

"Uncles," I say, dipping my head toward them both like this is the most normal thing in the world. "Didn’t know I had those."

Dad lets out this deep laugh, the kind that comes from somewhere real, not the polite kind you do at a work party when the boss says something not funny.

"Yeah, they’re pretty useless," he says, like he’s talking about a couple of interns who keep jamming the printer. "I’ve got them running the golems and the wolves, and Hansen sorts the faeries, but they’re always fucking something up. I swear to god, we’re related. Same mother, same father, everything. Who would’ve known." He shakes his head like it’s still a mystery to him. "At least my true heir is here now."

The word lands in the room like a dropped plate. I don’t even fully clock it at first, too busy trying to look chill about the fact that I apparently have uncles now, but something shifts in the air around Hansen and Harden. Something old and ugly and territorial, like a smell I can’t quite place, but every instinct in my snake brain is screaming at me to take seriously.

Hansen’s tongue flicks out again, longer this time, and he doesn’t even try to hide it.

Harden’s jaw is doing something complicated, and the scales on the side of his neck seem darker than they were a second ago, like they’re reacting to his mood in real time.

[System: oh my god, oh my god mate, they are LOSING it!]

Old Mate’s cackling in my head like he just watched a car crash in slow motion, which, fair, because it kind of feels like

I’m sitting in the middle of one.

I keep my coils relaxed, the easy thing, the cocky thing, but internally I am absolutely not okay.

Heir? Did he say, heir? Out loud in front of the two guys who look like they’d happily reenact a Bible story with me as the sacrifice.

"Anyway," Dad says, picking his coffee back up and taking a sip like he didn’t just detonate a grenade in the middle of a family reunion, "we should get back to work."

He sets the cup down on the table with this satisfied little click, straightens his jacket, and just like that the moment’s over for him like he said the most normal thing in the world.

"Let’s go, everyone."

Hansen and Harden don’t move for a second, both of them still staring at me like they’re doing long division in their heads and not liking the answer.

Then Hansen forces that twitchy almost-smile back onto his face and mutters something about needing to check on a shipment.

Harden just grunts, which I’m starting to think is his whole personality.

The big guy standing behind Dad, the one I haven’t gotten a name for yet, gives me a short nod. No expression, no nothing, just acknowledgment, like he’s clocking me into a system.

"That’s Band," Dad says, catching my glance. "He’ll be around."

Band doesn’t say anything back, just turns and heads for one of the cars parked at the curb, movements clean and efficient like he’s done this exact walk a thousand times before.

[System: bloody love that guy already. Ten words a year, tops.]

Yeah, no kidding.

Before he follows, Dad claps a hand on my upper scales near my hood. The touch isn’t rough, but it has weight, the kind that says I own this moment and I own you a little bit too.

"We’ll talk more later," he states.

Then he’s walking off toward the cars, Hansen and Harden trailing after him like a couple of dogs who just got told off but don’t want to let the good boy see it. I hold my position a second longer, watching the whole procession load up, doors shutting with these expensive little thunks that somehow sound more intimidating than a car door has any right to.

[System: well that went about as well as a fart in a lift]

Thanks, Old Mate, really nailed the vibe there.

[System: no worries mate, that’s what I’m here for]

My coils loosen on the pavement, a tension I hadn’t noticed bleeding away as my brand new family drives off to go be terrifying somewhere else.

Okay.

Okay, alright so he said heir?

I run that back a couple of times, just to make sure I didn’t mishear it, just to make sure that word didn’t come out of his mouth in front of two guys who were already looking at me like I was something that needed to be dealt with quietly, and without witnesses, he said it, he definitely said it.

[System: he said it, mate; he really said it. nah yeah you’ll be fine, no stress.]

I stare at the empty space where the cars were, the expensive little silence they left behind, and I become aware of something. God-damn, my dad put a massive target on my head, huh.

I don’t know what I did to deserve that title, but judging by the look on Harden’s face right before he got in the car, I’ve got a feeling I’m going to be paying for it real soon.

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