Page 86

Galt’in was posturing for the crowd, having turned his back to the Al’fa and us. He instantly stops. Dropping his arms to his side as he slowly turns around. The angry coloration on the edges of his scales is gone, now they are a paler shade. A fact that I file away for later examination alongside the change in the coloration I just saw on the Al’fa.

“I did not inte?—”

“Do not deny your intent,” the Al’fa snaps. “I have earned the right to lead you, not by words, but by blood and time.”

A new murmur rises. This one sounds of surprise and agreement. I watch the Al’fa in my peripheral with growing respect. I knew there was a sharp mind behind the bluster and bravado. He is leveraging his opponent to get what he wants from this. He is winning their hearts and minds over. Clever.

Galt’in looks abashed. The eyes of all his fellows are on him, waiting to see how he will handle the Al’fa’s counter. His tail twitches, throwing sand into the air behind him. Those closest to him subtly move away, not far, but enough.

“Yes, Al’fa,” he says, his voice no longer certain and booming, but full of deprecation.

Galt’in bows his head, shame darkening his scales, and steps back — no longer a challenger, but a wary follower. The Al’fa looks over those gathered, waiting for someone else to step up.

“I do not do this lightly,” he says. “Nor do I claim to trust the Urr’ki. I do not ask that of you, nor have I extended such. What I know is that we face a force that will not discriminate in its destruction. I am certain that alone, we are vulnerable, but that united, we stand a chance.”

Galt’in’s eyes narrow, his tail flicking in agitation.

“And what of trust? We all know that the Urr’ki have betrayed us before. What assurance do we have that history will not repeat itself?” he asks, clearly not relinquishing his position yet.

A murmur of agreement ripples through the Zmaj ranks. The humans remain silent, their faces a canvas of uncertainty. I step forward, the weight of the moment heavy on my shoulders. My heart pounds, but I force my voice to remain steady.

“Trust is not given lightly, nor should it be. You must understand that the Paluga is a threat that eclipses our past grievances. If we let old wounds fester, we doom ourselves to a future without hope.”

Galt’in turns his gaze to me, his eyes burning with intensity.

“And you, Queen of the Urr’ki, would have us believe that your people seek genuine alliance? That this is not a ploy to work your way inside our defenses?”

I hold his gaze, refusing to waver.

“I cannot erase your pain,” I say, voice ringing out over the arena. “But if we let it chain us, it will be the last thing any of us remember before we fall.”

“I agree with the Urr’ki Queen,” Rosalind says, stepping forward too.

I look past the Al’fa. She is determined and certain, throwing what weight she carries onto the arena floor. Three leaders, all of us of one accord, presenting the unthinkable. Hope flickers in my heart like the flames of a sputtering torch. Desperately clinging to life.

The arena is thick with tension, the scales of fate are balanced on a knife’s edge. The warrior seems poised to respond but, before he does, the ground trembles. A low, ominous rumble that increases in intensity until the floor of the arena undulates and cracks snake across the sand and dirt.

The earth heaves underfoot. Cracks spider across the ground. Dust and stone rain from above, the acrid tang of ancient earth splitting open fills my lungs. Screams split the air as the wall crumbles with a deafening roar.

The earth’s fury is unrelenting, a stark reminder of the looming threat. The Al’fa’s voice cuts through the chaos, commanding and resolute.

“This is but a glimpse of what awaits us. The Paluga is awakening. We must decide to either stand divided and fall, or unite and fight for survival.”

The rumbling tremors subside, leaving a haunting silence in their wake. The warrior before us, once defiant, now appears contemplative. The reality of the situation is sinking in.

From the crowd, voices rise, not in dissent, but in agreement. A shift. Subtle yet profound. The seeds of unity sown in the crucible of impending doom.

The Al’fa turns to me, his gaze softer, yet no less intense. Dust hangs in the air like smoke, thick with the scent of scorched stone and ancient earth torn open. My lungs ache with each breath, but I hold his gaze.

“You speak not only as Queen of the Urr’ki,” he says, his voice lower, no longer for the crowd. It’s only for me, “but as someone who understands what’s coming. That is why I have chosen to stand with you at my side.”

My heart clenches, too tightly to breathe. The balcony is silent. Even the other leaders, Za’tan, Drogor, and Rosalind say nothing, but they are watching. Waiting.

Is this a test? A moment of genuine trust? Or both?

He steps closer. The crowd murmurs below, a tide of voices swelling with each heartbeat. My skin prickles under their scrutiny. I have stood before armies, before the Shaman himself. But never like this. Never have I felt so exposed in all my life. I wet my lips then meet his eyes.

“I stand for peace. For survival. If we do not find a way forward together, there will be nothing left to rule.”