Page 12 of Beneath Scales and Shadows (Lost Lunas of Artania #1)

CHAPTER TWELVE

IGNIS

“Knot?” Sora’s voice held genuine confusion, her brow furrowing beneath the silver scales that now permanently adorned her temples.

Ignis swallowed hard, struggling to maintain his composure. Speaking of such intimate matters with the very female who ignited his deepest urges threatened his carefully maintained control. Heat radiated from his scales, the fire beneath his skin responding to her proximity and the sweetening notes of her scent.

“An alpha’s body changes during mating,” he explained, his voice rougher than intended. “Near climax, we... expand at the base. It’s designed to ensure successful breeding, to keep our seed deep within our chosen mate.”

Her eyes widened slightly, a flush spreading across her cheeks as understanding dawned. “I see.”

“Once locked together—the alpha will mark their omega—as the bond forms at its most base level,” he continued, forcing clinical detachment into his tone. “For dragons, it creates a connection that transcends physical separation—thoughts, emotions, even sensations can be shared.”

“And my heat triggers this?”

“Omega heat calls to alpha instincts,” Ignis confirmed. “Your body will prepare itself to receive a mate—any capable alpha. The scent alone drives unmated alphas to frenzy, urging them to claim, to possess—to rut.” His claws dug into the stone bench beneath them. “It’s why omegas were traditionally sequestered during their cycles, for their protection.”

“But you’re not frenzied,” she observed, studying him with those perceptive sapphire eyes.

“A century of discipline teaches restraint.” He offered a smile that didn’t quite mask the strain beneath. “Though I won’t pretend it’s easy.”

Her hand rose hesitantly, hovering near his face before settling on his scaled cheek. The contact sent electricity coursing through him, and he leaned into her touch despite himself.

“What would happen,” she asked quietly, “if I chose you? If we... completed this bond?”

The question ignited dangerous hope within his chest. “Everything would change. Our lifeforces would intertwine. I could shift fully into human form without the need for enchanted masks. You would gain access to certain draconic abilities—like enhanced healing. Our minds would connect in ways words cannot adequately describe.”

“And politically?” Her mind never stopped analyzing, even now. She was always thinking—something he loved about her.

“You would become my queen in truth, not just title. Your word carrying equal weight to mine among all dragonkind.” His gaze held hers steadily. “And the prophecy would begin to fulfill itself—balance returning to our realms, magic strengthening across bloodlines.”

Sora’s thumb traced the edge of a ruby scale along his jawline, the gentle touch nearly undoing his control. “And if I’m not ready?”

“Then we wait,” he answered simply, though his instincts raged against such patience. “Your choice must be freely given, or it means nothing.”

She leaned closer, their breath mingling in the cool night air. Her scent enveloped him—embers and moonflower intensifying with each passing moment, calling to him.

“I think I might—”

The balcony doors burst open behind them.

Ember stood framed in the entryway, her scarred face tight with urgency. Blood spattered across her chest, evidence of recent battle.

“My King,” she announced, bowing quickly. “I apologize for the interruption, but a scout has returned critically wounded. His news cannot wait.”

Ignis turned sharply, wings unfurling. “Bring him.”

Sora stood as well, silver scales catching the moonlight, dancing on his ruby, as she moved to Ignis’s side. The intimacy of their previous moment evaporated, replaced by the weight of imminent threat.

Ember disappeared, returning moments later supporting a young beta in human form. His bronze scales along his sides were dulled with exhaustion and blood, one arm dangling uselessly beside him. Deep gashes crisscrossed his torso—wounds that should have begun healing but remained raw and open.

The moonlight cast silver shadows across the scout’s form as he delivered his report, each word seeming to drain what little strength remained in his battered body.

“The royal forces knew exactly where to find us,” he gasped, crimson bubbling at the corner of his mouth. “The ambush was too precise, too coordinated.”

Ignis’s crimson gaze swept from the scout to Ember. “A betrayal, then.”

“Their weapons,” the scout continued, his voice failing. “Coated with something that prevents our healing. Omega essence, but corrupted somehow.”

Her chest was tight, but her hands didn’t waver as she helped ease the wounded dragon onto a stone bench. “How many were lost?”

“Six of our patrol,” the scout whispered. “I escaped only because Firedancer sacrificed himself to cover my retreat.” His claws scraped weakly against the stone. “They’re harvesting any omega they find—not just for weapons. Something worse.”

Ember’s expression darkened. “Princess Jewels leads the campaign personally. She claims to seek her father’s kidnapped servant.”

“A pretext,” Ignis growled, smoke curling from his nostrils.

“There’s more,” the scout added, coughing violently. Blood spattered the pale stone at his feet. “They’ve captured one of our own. Coal was taken alive.”

Ignis went utterly still, the temperature around him dropping precipitously despite the fire raging beneath his scales. “When?”

“During our retreat. His stealth nearly succeeded, but something gave him away. As if they knew precisely where to look.” The scout’s eyes fluttered. “He fought like the ancients themselves, but their numbers...”

Asher appeared in the doorway, summoned by some unseen signal. The healer moved immediately to the wounded scout, gentle hands already glowing with healing energy.

“Save your strength,” he murmured, guiding the scout to lie back. “You’ve done your duty.”

While Asher worked, Ember approached Ignis, her voice lowered. “This changes everything. If they torture Coal—”

“They won’t gain access to our secrets,” Ignis finished, his voice deadly quiet. “Our defenses, our weaknesses. Every pathway and hidden entrance he’s memorized over decades—they’re safe . He would never betray us. He would rather die than spill any information.”

“There’s more,” Ember said, producing a sealed message from her armor. The royal seal of Celestoria gleamed in the moonlight. “This arrived by enchanted falcon moments ago.”

Ignis broke the seal, his expression hardening as he scanned the contents. Without comment, he passed the parchment to Sora.

The message was brief, the elegant script cold in its precision:

Return our servant or watch her family suffer for dragon sympathies. Omegas and those bearing twice-born marks cannot be tolerated within Celestoria or our kingdom’s surrounding area. We won’t allow our neighbors to harbor such dangerous beings. Present the servant alone at the northern pass in three days.

Sora’s fingers tightened on the parchment, crumpling its edges. “They’re using my host’s family as leverage.”

A flicker of recognition crossed her face as she studied the letter more closely. She turned the parchment, examining the edge where faint additional markings were barely visible beneath the royal seal.

“This handwriting,” she whispered. “I know it.”

“Whose is it?” Ember demanded. “What does it say?”

Sora looked up, sadness flooded her eyes. “Morgana’s. My sister’s.” She swallowed hard. “She betrayed me.”

Ignis moved closer, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. “How certain are you?”

“I shared quarters with her for years—this body did.” Sora traced the subtle script along the letter’s edge. “I’d recognize her handwriting anywhere.”

“Your family stands at our border,” Ember reported grimly. “All three of them.”

“No, she said she reported my changes when the princess asked if I’ve been acting differently since being discovered by the frozen lake, nothing else,” Sora whispered, scales shimmering beneath her skin as emotion surged. “Morgana wouldn’t purposely endanger our parents.”

But the evidence before him told a different story.

“Jealousy, when fed long enough, grows blind to consequences.”

“In the short time I’ve known Morgana, the lingering anger was clear.” Sora sighed, closing her eyes. “Nothing I did was ever right in my sister’s eyes—and Morgana made sure I knew it. But why would she go as far as to endanger not only herself but our parents by reporting me?”

“This is a trap,” Ignis stated flatly. “They hope to lure you—or me—into the open.”

“I know,” Sora agreed, as she flipped the letter around, examining it for any other clues. “But they still have my family. And Coal.” She looked up at Ignis, determination replacing shock. “I have to do something.”

“ We, ” Ignis corrected, his wing extending protectively behind her. “We will do something.”

Ember cleared her throat. “There’s one more detail our scouts reported. The weapons they used against our patrol were unlike anything we’ve encountered before. The essence seemed... amplified somehow.”

“Advanced alchemy,” Asher interjected, looking up from tending the wounded scout. “Princess Jewels has been experimenting. Combining omega essence with other substances instead of just infusing weapons.”

A chill ran through those gathered. The implications were clear—and horrifying. They couldn’t afford to rush into battle blindly, not when they have new deadlier inventions to use on them.

Ignis turned to the balcony’s edge, gazing out over his domain, wings slightly extended with growing tension.

“Gather the council,” he ordered. “Full war preparations begin immediately.”

“Yes, my King.” Ember bowed and departed, taking the wounded scout with Asher’s help.

Alone with Sora once more, Ignis allowed his carefully maintained control to slip just enough for her to glimpse the rage beneath. Smoke curled from his nostrils, and the temperature around him rose noticeably.

“They won’t stop with you,” he said, his voice dangerously quiet. “The prophecy terrifies them because it represents what they’ve systematically destroyed—balance between realms.”

“Kingdoms fall when the natural order is subverted,” Sora observed, drawing on her historian’s knowledge. “But innocent people like my family—and yours—shouldn’t suffer in the process.”

She moved to the balcony’s edge beside him, her shoulder nearly touching his arm. Below, the dragon clan bustled with increased activity, warriors preparing, healers gathering supplies, scouts departing on urgent missions.

“What will you do?”

“Protect what’s mine.” His gaze didn’t waver from the activity below. “By any means necessary.”

“Even if it means risking yourself?” Sora pressed, concern evident in her voice. “You’re their king. The last pure-bred dragon alpha of your line.”

Ignis turned to her then, crimson eyes holding hers with unwavering intensity. “I would burn Celestoria to its foundations before allowing them to harm you—and continue their genocide of my people.”

The declaration hung between them, both promise and warning.

“You forget,” Sora countered, drawing herself straighter as she lifted her chin. “I’m not just some helpless omega to be protected. I have knowledge they don’t expect.”

“What do you mean?”

A smile curved her lips, cold and calculating in a way he hadn’t seen before. “I spent my academic career studying medieval weaponry and battlefield strategy. I can identify vulnerabilities in Celestorian military formations from historical patterns. Their aerial defenses will have predictable weaknesses based on their infantry-centered approach.”

Surprise and admiration flashed across Ignis’s features. “You would use your Earth knowledge against them?”

“Knowledge is power,” she replied simply. “And I know exactly how to exploit their tactical blindspots.”

Ignis watched her with growing respect. This wasn’t just the omega every part of him craved, but a true partner—a queen with her own strengths to complement his.

“Then we plan together,” he decided, nodding. “Your human insights combined with draconic strategy.”

As they turned to join the gathering war council, a messenger approached, breathless with urgency.

“My King.” The young delta bowed hastily. “Our spies report that the royal family has moved your assassin Coal to the dungeon beneath the castle. Princess Jewels has taken personal charge of his interrogation.”

Sora’s blood ran cold. “Interrogation” likely meant torture—or worse, essence extraction.

“And there’s more,” the messenger continued, voice dropping. “The king threatens to execute not only her family but her friend Lyra.”

“Lyra?” Sora gasped, covering her chest. “She was helping me. She must have been discovered after we escaped.”

Ignis’s expression darkened further. “How much time do we have?”

“Three days until their ultimatum expires,” the messenger replied. “But our sources suggest they won’t wait that long to begin the extractions.”

Sora stepped forward. “I have to go back.”

“I told you it’s a trap,” Ignis growled, wings flaring, shielding her from her rash decision.

“I know.” Her eyes met his without flinching. “But traps work both ways.”

An understanding passed between them. She wasn’t going to back down, nor was he. Ignis nodded slowly, recognizing the strategic value of what she proposed.

“Not alone,” he insisted, his voice leaving no room for argument.

“No,” she agreed, slipping her hand into his, silver scales meeting ruby. “Together.”