Page 15 of Beneath Scales and Shadows (Lost Lunas of Artania #1)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

SORA

“Again.”

The command sliced through the crystal-lit training chamber like a blade, leaving no room for argument. Sora’s lungs burned, her shaky breath coming in ragged gasps.

Sweat trickled between her shoulder blades, dampening the rough-spun training tunic, plastering strands of hair to her forehead.

Every muscle in her body screamed for mercy, but the unrelenting amber gaze of the King’s Guard offered no reprieve.

“I can’t—” The words dissolved into a startled gasp as the world tilted. Her back struck the obsidian floor with bruising force, driving the air from her lungs.

Ember loomed above her, scarred face impassive. “The royal forces won’t pause because you’re tired.” She extended a hand, her grip firm but not unkind as she pulled Sora upright. “They certainly won’t announce their strikes before delivering them.”

Copper filled Sora’s mouth where she’d bitten her lip during the fall. The silver scales along her forearms caught the light as she raised her hands into the defensive position Ember had been drilling into her all day.

“I’m a historian, not a warrior.”

“Not anymore.” A flicker of something—perhaps amusement—crossed Ember’s face. “And I was a watchman before humans killed my family when I was off duty, resting in my nest after spending all night on guard.” She circled Sora with predatory grace, her movements fluid as water over stone. “Life rarely consults us before changing our paths.”

The training ground’s stone floor radiated a peculiar warmth—not from sunlight, but from the mountain’s heart, pulsing with ancient dragon magic stirring to life once again beneath their feet. Crystal formations pulsed with soft blue-violet light that seemed to follow their movements. The air smelled of stone dust and dragon flame, with underlying notes of metal and sweat that filled Sora’s increasingly sensitive nostrils.

“Your problem isn’t strength.” Ember feinted left before striking from the right. Sora barely deflected the blow, the impact sending painful vibrations up her arm. “It’s hesitation. Your mind calculates while your body should already be moving.”

Another strike. Another desperate parry. Sora’s feet scrambled for purchase on the sand dusted floor as she retreated.

Ember was a blur of disciplined motion, her scarred face impassive as she executed another lightning-fast attack. Pain exploded across Sora’s ribs.

“Too slow,” Ember critiqued, not even breathing hard. “An omega queen must be quicker than this if you want to stand beside our king.”

The title stung worse than the blow. Sora gritted her teeth and lunged, only to find herself sailing through empty air. Ember had sidestepped with insulting ease, her amber eyes coolly assessing.

“You telegraph your intentions, Luna.” The deliberate use of her prophesied title dripped with skepticism. “Your eyes betray you before your body moves.”

Three days of sparring, and Sora hadn’t landed a single meaningful strike. The delta guard moved with a warrior’s economy—no wasted motion, no vulnerability exposed.

It was proof—undeniable now—that Ignis had been toying with her. He’d held back during their sparring, let her believe she was holding her own. Let her feel stronger than she was.

“Stop thinking like a human .” Ember’s tail swept low in an unexpected attack that sent Sora stumbling backward. “You wanted to be trained—so train. Or are you merely playing at being one of us?”

Something hot and electric boiled in Sora’s veins.

All day. She’d spent all day being thrown, struck, and bested. Her body ached in places she hadn’t known could feel pain, her pride just as bruised as her flesh.

“I am trying .”

“Trying?” Ember’s laugh cut sharp as a blade. “Our kin die while you try . Coal suffers while you try .” Her voice dropped, edged with accusation, as she stalked closer. “Tell me, twiceborn—why are you really here? What game do you play with our king?”

Sora faltered, confusion momentarily overriding her defensive stance. “What are you talking about?”

The attack came without warning—a feint toward her face followed by a sweeping leg that sent Sora crashing to the stone floor. Pain bloomed across her back, air rushing from her lungs.

“If you mean to be our queen,” Ember hissed, looming above her, “you must be prepared to fight for this clan. To kill for this clan.” She leaned closer, eyes flaring with barely contained fury. “Do you think that you have what it takes to defend what would soon be considered yours ?”

Sora struggled to her feet, tasting blood where she’d bitten her tongue. “That’s not—”

“Coal is being tortured because of you and your people.” Ember’s words landed harder than any physical blow. “My mate gave himself so you could remain safe behind these walls. While you share our king’s bed, Coal bleeds!”

The accusation sliced deeper than Sora expected, piercing defenses she hadn’t realized were there. Coal’s capture wasn’t her fault—logically, she knew this—yet guilt coiled in her stomach, spreading like a deadly toxin from a venomous serpent.

The delta spy had been taken during a mission she hadn’t even known about.

“I never asked anyone to die for me,” she whispered, shaking her head, hands lifting—palms open in surrender. “I never asked for any of this!”

“No one ever asks.” Ember’s tail whipped through the air, her stance widening. “Yet they take, torture, and kill all the same.”

Before Sora could catch her breath—before she could even reply—Ember was on her again.

A blur of motion. Heat. Fury. Pain and frustration.

Steel hissed through the air, and Sora barely got her blade up before the next strike slammed into it. The force jarred her arms to the bone, sent her staggering back a step—then another. Ember didn’t give her space. Didn’t let up. Every blow came faster than the last, each one calculated to break her open.

Her foot slipped on the sand-covered, polished stone—too late to recover. A sharp slice to her shoulder made her cry out, then another slash across her stomach sent fire lancing through her core.

She gasped, breath hitching. Couldn’t keep up. Couldn’t think .

Another strike landed—her thigh this time. Sora buckled, dropping to one knee. Her blade shook in her grip. Pain burned across her skin, sharp and immediate, but it was the precision that rattled her more than anything.

Ember wasn’t just trying to win.

She was proving a point.

She wanted justice—and Sora was the practice dummy for her anger.

Then a sweeping leg caught her ankle, and Sora was falling again, this time hitting the stone with enough force to split her lip. Warm copper filled her mouth. Blood trickled down her chin.

“We both know your people won’t show mercy because you’re some pretty omega.” Ember’s voice came from somewhere above, distant through the ringing in Sora’s ears—her skin slick with blood and sweat. “Because you smell sweet? Because prophecy marked you? The Celestorian royal family would extract your essence drop by drop until nothing remains but an empty husk.”

Something cracked deep inside her—like an earthquake—a silent break, like two faults suddenly shifting.

Sora pushed to her feet, unsteady but rising. Blood smeared across the back of her hand as she wiped her chin, the taste of iron thick on her tongue.

She was sick and tired of being judged, placed in these predetermined— destined —boxes, because of who she was reborn as.

“You think I chose this?” she spat, returning the same venom Ember had given her. “You think I wanted to die on Earth? To wake in a stranger’s body? To discover I’m supposedly destined to help save a world I barely understand?”

She stood, ignoring protesting muscles and throbbing wounds. “I was a historian. A researcher. I catalog artifacts—I don’t lead wars!”

Heat surged beneath her skin, different from anything she’d experienced before. Not the burning need of approaching heat, but something sharper, more focused. The silver scales along her arms and shoulders began to shimmer with internal light, casting a faint glow—like twinkling stars all around her.

Ember’s eyes widened fractionally—the first hint of uncertainty Sora had seen from the formidable guard.

“You want me to fight?” Sora advanced, her voice unnervingly steady even to her own ears. “Fine. Let’s fight.”

She moved without conscious thought, her body suddenly remembering techniques she’d never learned—somehow she instinctively knew. The historian’s mind retreated beneath instincts older than conscious memory—dragon blood awakening in her veins.

Her first strike caught Ember by surprise, connecting solidly with the guard’s shoulder. The second followed instantly, a sweeping kick that nearly toppled the larger female. The third was a combination that drove Ember back three steps, genuine shock flashing across her scarred features.

“You don’t get to judge me,” Sora growled, pressing her advantage. “You don’t know what I’ve lost. What I’ve lost. What I was forced to sacrifice.”

Each word punctuated another strike, her body moving faster with each passing moment.

“I never asked to be a part of this war!” Her fist connected with Ember’s jaw, snapping the guard’s head back. “I never wanted anyone to suffer! Especially on my behalf!”

Ember attempted to counter, but Sora was beyond defensive tactics now. She slipped past the guard’s strike, inside her reach, and delivered a punishing combination that sent Ember staggering backward.

“But I’m here now.” Her voice dropped lower, something ancient—something powerful—resonating beneath the words. “And I will not be broken.”

The next exchange happened too quickly for conscious thought. Ember lashed out; Sora parried, twisted, and suddenly the guard was on her back, Sora’s forearm pressed against her throat, silver scales burning against bronze.

“I don’t want to fight,” Sora growled, tears mingling with blood on her face. “I don’t want any of this. But I won’t let you or anyone else tell me what I’m worth.”

Strong hands suddenly seized her shoulders, pulling her backward with irresistible force. Sora struggled instinctively until a familiar scent enveloped her—midnight stone and ancient fire.

“Enough!” Ignis’s voice cut through her rage, his arms encircling her from behind, wings partially unfurling to create a barrier between her and Ember. “What is happening here?”

Reality crashed back with jarring force. Sora blinked, the supernatural strength flowing from her as swiftly as it had arrived. The luminescence of her scales dimmed, leaving her trembling in the aftermath of fury.

Suddenly, pain erupted through her in waves from the wounds that covered her body—once muted—settling deep in her bones.

Ember rose slowly, one hand touching her jaw gingerly, as she slowly shook her head. Rather than anger, Sora was startled to see something like respect in the guard’s amber eyes.

“Female business,” Ember answered, straightening as she rolled her shoulders and flexing her wings. “Testing the Luna’s resolve.”

Ignis’s arms tightened around Sora, his body radiating protective heat. “This goes beyond training.”

“It needed to.” Ember’s gaze never left Sora’s face. “I needed to know if she had what it takes before it’s too late—before you bond with her completely.” A hint of a smile touched her scarred lip. “Before you fall even deeper for her.”

Fall deeper for her?

Sora leaned into Ignis, her weight no longer held by will alone. The tension drained from her limbs, leaving her heavy, breathless. Her head moved in a slow shake against his chest, strands of hair catching on his scales as disbelief rippled through her. “This was a test?”

“I would never truly harm you,” Ember replied, her voice gentler than Sora had ever heard it.

Sora gestured to her split lip, the bruises forming on her arms and legs, the blood drying on her chin. “And this isn’t harm?”

Ember shrugged, the movement rippling her wings as she flicked her hair back. “A little blood means nothing. The dragon blood in your veins ensures you’ll heal before nightfall.” Her gaze shifted to Ignis, something like deference in her stance despite her previous ferocity. “I would never truly endanger your chosen, my king. No matter if she wasn’t a gift from the Moon Goddess.” Her voice softened further as her gaze drifted to the skylight. “But even the most precious omega must be prepared for what awaits. Celestoria will not test with training blows.”

The crystalline light from overhead caught in the sweat beading on Ember’s brow, refracting into prismatic patterns across her copper scaled skin. For the first time, Sora noticed a myriad of old scars beneath the guard’s scales—testament to battles survived, pain endured.

“What have you determined?” Ignis’s voice cut through the air, low and taut, his arms still wrapped protectively around Sora. Heat rolled off him in steady waves, each one pulsing with the effort it took to hold himself back. A deep rumble stirred in his chest, vibrating against her spine.

Ember inclined her head, the gesture carrying unmistakable deference. “She’ll do.” The guard’s eyes met Sora’s directly. “You fight for more than yourself. That’s a start.”

Ember turned, her tail cutting a precise arc through the air.

She hadn’t made it two steps before Ignis spoke.

“Coal.”

Just one word. Quiet. Weighted. It hung there—sharp as regret, soft as memory. Ember froze, the tip of her tail twitching once before going still. When she turned back, her amber eyes held a vulnerability Sora hadn’t witnessed before—the mask of the hardened warrior briefly slipping to reveal the friend beneath.

She closed her eyes, pain flooding her features. Tension gathered in the muscles of her throat as she struggled for composure.

“He lives,” she finally whispered—raising one hand to press against her chest. “I can still feel him here”—she touched her temple with the other—“and here.”

The confession hung in the air between them, intimate and raw. Sora suddenly understood—Ember and Coal were connected by something deeper…

Ember had thrown the word mate at her during their spa—but Sora hadn’t believed it. She didn’t think deltas could even have that kind of connection.

Apparently, she’d been wrong.

“He blocks the pain from me,” Ember continued, voice cracking beneath the weight of restraint. “But sometimes... it’s too much. I feel him screaming.” Her eyes opened, heavy with something unspoken. No tears fell, just a quiet weight behind her gaze that made Sora wonder— do dragons even cry? “He begs me not to sacrifice myself in rescue. To remain by your side, my king. To keep the Luna safe.”

“We will save him,” Ignis swore, his voice resonating with the weight of royal decree. “I will not leave him to suffer and die. When we meet the Celestorians tomorrow, we will bring our brother home.”

Ember’s gaze shifted to Sora, assessment and fragile hope intermingling. “I pray to the Moon Goddess that you’re right.” She straightened, mask sliding back into place with visible effort. “Be ready. Everything changes tomorrow.”

With a final nod of acknowledgment, she turned away, striding toward the entrance to the central cavern. In one fluid motion, she leapt into the open air, wings unfurling as she transformed, bronze scales catching light as she soared upward out of sight.

Sora turned within Ignis’s embrace, pressing her forehead against the warm scales of his chest. The twin rhythm of his hearts beat against her skin—steady, ancient, unwavering. She rubbed her head against him, drawing comfort from his midnight-fire scent.

“I don’t know how I can fight like that,” she whispered, the confession drawn from some fragile place inside her. “It wasn’t me, but it was—as though something else moved through my body.”

His taloned fingers traced the line of her spine with impossible gentleness, each point of contact sending cascades of warmth through her aching muscles.

“Not something else,” he corrected softly. “Something that has always been part of you—instincts passed down through your dragon blood from the Moon Goddess herself.”

“I’m scared,” she admitted, the words barely audible even to herself. Sora trembled, not from pain but from the enormity of everything crashing down upon her. “Scared I’ll never be enough. That more people will die because of me.” She closed her eyes, Coal’s unseen suffering and Ember’s quiet agony wounds upon her conscience. “Innocents like my family, my friend Lyra... and Coal. All suffering to draw me out of hiding.”

Ignis’s wings folded around her, creating a sanctuary of warmth and darkness—something she’d grown to love.

“I just want to hide in your great library,” she admitted, wishing she didn’t have to go on the mission in the morning. “Read everything I can touch. Have some semblance of normalcy like I had on Earth—research, discovery, understanding—everything that has to do with Artania.”

His chest rumbled with a sound that vibrated through her own body—not quite a purr, not quite a growl, but something protective and fiercely tender.

“When this is over,” he promised, squeezing her tighter. “You can bury yourself in your studies. The Sacred Library will be yours to explore for as long as you desire.”

“That sounds lovely,” she whispered, allowing herself to imagine it—days spent among ancient texts, nights spent in his arms, all without the shadow of war hanging over them.

Ignis’s clawed hand gently cupped her chin, tilting her face upward. His crimson gaze studied her split lip as the pad of his thumb brushed away a smear of dried blood with impossible tenderness.

“You’re healing already,” he observed, satisfaction evident in his tone. “Are you truly all right?”

“I will be.” Sora managed a weary smile. “Don’t punish Ember. She was only doing her duty, trying to protect you and the clan.”

Ignis huffed, a wisp of smoke curling from his nostrils. “I won’t punish her. But that doesn’t mean I can’t take care of you.”

In one fluid motion, he swept her into his arms, cradling her against his chest as though she weighed nothing. The sudden change in perspective made her head spin—or perhaps it was the lingering effects of her sparring, combined with the heady proximity of his scent surrounding her completely.

“Let’s get you fed before we rest for the night,” he soothed, carrying her toward the corridor. “Tomorrow we face Celestoria, and you’ll need your strength.”

As they moved through the glowstone lit passages, Sora allowed herself to sink fully into his embrace.

Tomorrow would bring conflict, negotiation, the possibility of both rescue and disaster. But tonight—for these few precious moments—she would accept the sanctuary he offered as she borrowed his strength to rebuild her own.