Page 16 of Beneath Scales and Shadows (Lost Lunas of Artania #1)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

SORA

The armor lay folded atop the ornate chest, waiting for her like a silent declaration. Sora ran her fingers over the intricate patterns etched into scales that had no business being so supple. Dragon scales and dark elf metal fused together with leather craftsmanship that put Earth’s finest medieval artifacts to shame.

To be able to see it in person—in one piece—rather than in parts laid out like a gigantic puzzle on a research table… was breathtaking. No matter how much polishing and restoration the conservators had done, it didn’t compare to what had been gifted to her.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, lifting the breastplate. Light caught in the opalescent shimmer of midnight-blue scales trimmed with silver. The scales were impossibly pliant beneath her touch, both resilient and yielding. Not decorated—formed that way, as if the scales themselves had been coaxed into creating natural ornamentation.

Like it was designed to be the rider’s second skin.

“The armor of a dragon rider.”

Her heart stuttered. “I’m not—”

“You are mine .” His voice cut through her protest, low, growly and certain. Crimson eyes gleamed in the dim light as he stepped closer, his shadow stretching wide, swallowing the pale edges of morning. “And today, you fly with me into battle. That makes you a rider in all the ways that matter.”

“But I don’t know how to ride…”

“But you will .”

The weight of his words settled over her like the armor she now slipped into. Each piece fit with impossible precision, as if measured for a body she was still discovering herself. The leather beneath was butter-soft against her skin, the scales light despite their obvious strength.

“Elaris gifted these to us many decades ago,” Ignis explained from the balcony, his dragoon form silhouetted against the pre-dawn sky, his voice carrying the weight of memory. “A gesture of solidarity when they still believed our kingdoms might unite against Celestoria.” He stepped closer, wings rustling with tension, until their chests nearly touched—his breath warm against hers, that ancient, smoky scent curling around her, filling her senses. “Zalaya and Nylrion recovered them from our deepest vaults, adjusting them to your form.”

Sora looked up in surprise. “From Elaris? The human kingdom?”

“Yes. Before Celestoria turned to their twisted alchemy, before they enhanced their weapons with omega essence.” His hand skimmed the armor with slow reverence, palm open, touch barely there. “These were crafted for a future where we could fly with humans together again... a future that never came.”

Sora stilled, breath catching—his touch barely there, so gentle, so deliberate. It sank into her like something she’d been aching for.

“How does it feel?”

Sora rolled her shoulders, testing the give. “Like it was made for me.”

“It’s only natural for my Luna to be dressed as the dragon queen she’s becoming,” Ignis said, crimson eyes holding hers with unwavering certainty. “Besides, you’ll need protection where we’re going.”

His hand paused, head cocking as his lips settled into something wicked and clever. “And you’re sure about giving this to me?”

“Who else would be worthy to ride upon my back?”

Something sharp and unexpected twisted in Sora’s chest—jealousy, raw and irrational. The image of someone else in her place struck deeper than it should have.

She shoved the thought aside.

“That’s not my call to make,” she said, voice steady despite the burn beneath it.

The dragon king’s scaled lips curved into a faint smile. “You have nothing to worry about, little Luna. Only you will be allowed to ride me.”

Before she could form a response, Ignis stepped closer. One clawed hand reached down, retrieving the heavy cloak she’d forgotten she’d dropped. He swept it gently around her shoulders, settling the weight across her back with reverent care.

When she looked up, his gaze pierced through her— furious devotion , wild and unyielding, the kind of look that made breathing difficult.

“My eyes are only on you,” he said, voice low and rough with promise.

Heat rushed through her like a lit fuse, curling beneath her skin and settling low in her belly. His scent wrapped around her—smoke, heat, and something deeper, something his —and her omega instincts flared to life, craving warmth, closeness, him.

She forced her shoulders to square beneath the cloak.

Not now.

That rising pull, the ache she didn’t ask for, the instincts humming beneath her skin—it could wait. She wouldn’t let biology dictate her choices. Not when her people needed her. Not when they needed to save Coal.

Focus.

They had lives to save. Her new family. Her friend. Coal.

There’d be time to unravel the rest—later.

Hopefully.

“How does it feel?” Ignis asked, his gaze traveling the length of her transformed silhouette.

Sora pulled the hood over her head. The fabric settled softly, casting her face in shadow without dimming her sight. Something about it felt right—protective, concealing.

She rolled her shoulders, testing the fit. The cloak moved with her, silent, fluid. It clung to her like it knew her shape—familiar in a way it shouldn’t have been.

“Like it was made for me,” she murmured, fingers brushing the edge of the hood.

“Perhaps you’re becoming who you were always meant to be.”

His words settled deep—dangerous in their softness. Sora hated how easily they slipped beneath her defenses, how part of her... was starting to believe it.

She glanced toward the entrance where the first streaks of red stretched across the sky like a wound—painting the clouds in hues too vivid, too wrong to be beautiful.

Heat crept up her neck, and she tugged the hood a little lower, as if it might hide the blush warming her cheeks.

“Come,” Ignis beckoned as he rolled his shoulders, ruby scales rippling like liquid while he turned toward the balcony. “It’s time. Dawn approaches, and with it, our confrontation.”

Outside, the twin moons danced in the bloody streaks, painting the indigo and not yet lavender sky. Below, the central cavern bustled with activity—dragons in both their dragoon and full forms making final preparations and checking their armor.

He stepped to the balcony’s edge and closed his eyes. A tremor passed through his body—subtle at first, then building. His scales began to shine under the morning light, as though molten fire coursed through his veins. The air around him shimmered with heat distortion, warping the predawn light.

Sora held her breath, transfixed, though she had witnessed this transformation before. It still captivated her—the sight of ancient magic manifesting before her eyes.

His form expanded, muscles and bone reconfiguring with fluid grace. Limbs elongated, tail growing more substantial, neck extending as his jaw restructured into a more pronounced muzzle. Wings unfurled farther from his back, membrane stretching between elongated digits until they spanned twice his previous width.

Within moments, the dragoon form had vanished, replaced by the majestic dragon king in all his glory. Ruby scales caught the first rays of dawn, transforming him into a living flame against the lightening sky. His colossal head turned toward her, crimson eyes undeniably Ignis, despite the fearsome new face that bore them.

“Beautiful,” Sora whispered, the word escaping before she could contain it.

A rumble of pleased amusement vibrated from his chest. He lowered his draconic form with deliberate grace, wings partially extended for balance. “Mount behind my neck ridge,” he explained, mental voice deeper in this form, resonating through her bones rather than merely her ears. “Your legs should rest along my shoulders. Make sure to grip the spines for support at the base of my neck—they won’t harm you.”

Sora approached with measured steps, studying the formidable expanse of ruby scales before her. A distant memory surfaced—childhood riding lessons on her grandfather’s farm, the instructor’s steady voice guiding her through mounting techniques—but this was another matter entirely.

No saddle, no reins, no stirrups. Just living, breathing creature of myth and legend beneath her.

“I won’t let you fall,” Ignis promised, as if sensing her hesitation.

She placed one hand on his shoulder, heat radiating through her gloves. With a deep breath, she swung her leg over his neck, settling into the natural depression between ridge and wing joint. The position felt unexpectedly secure, her knees tucking naturally against the juncture where neck met shoulders.

Her hands found the spines he’d indicated—flattened protrusions that offered perfect handholds. The scales beneath her were smooth but not slippery, providing natural friction that aided her stability.

“How does this work without a saddle?” she asked, adjusting her position. “Won’t I slide off during flight?”

A rumble of amusement vibrated through his body and into hers. “Dragon riders never needed such contraptions—they sensed each other’s intentions before words ever formed. The bond you and I share is different, less potent, but the process should remain the same.”

Before she could question further, Ignis rose to his full height. The sudden elevation sent her stomach lurching as the ground fell away beneath them. His wings snapped open, catching the first true light of dawn, transforming from ruby to living fire.

“Hold tight,” he warned, muscles bunching beneath her. “I was told the first drop always surprises.”

He launched from the balcony with surprising grace for a creature his size. For one heart-stopping moment, they fell, and Sora’s breath caught in her throat—not from fear but from the pure, visceral thrill of surrender. Then his wings caught the air—nearly unseating her. They surged upward with such force that she instinctively pressed closer to his neck, thighs tightening.

The mountain stronghold fell away beneath them as they soared outward in a wide arc. Ignis unleashed a thunderous bugle that echoed across the valleys—a call to arms that vibrated through Sora’s very bones.

The answer came as dozens of dragons emerged from hidden caverns along the mountainside, their forms catching the strengthening light—copper, emerald, sapphire, obsidian—rising to form a pattern behind their king. Ember flew at point on his right wing, her bronze scales gleaming in the first rays of dawn. Blaze and Enixa led separate formations, fanning out in precise battle formations—their wings creating geometric precision against the lightening sky.

“Your army,” Sora murmured, awestruck despite the gravity of their mission.

“What remains of it,” Ignis pathed, voice subdued. “Once, thousands would have answered my call.”

The full weight of what was at stake crushed down on her. This wasn’t just about rescuing Coal or her family. It was about survival—of a species, a culture, a way of life pushed to the brink of extinction.

They soared higher, cresting the mountain ridge to reveal a landscape transformed by the gold-pink light of dawn. Forests spread like dark carpets across valleys, rivers like silver ribbons winding between them. The winds carried scents that Sora’s increasingly sensitive nose identified—pine, wildflowers, the mineral tang of distant snows.

In the distance, the spires of Celestoria Castle rose from morning mist, both beautiful and ominous. It was hard to believe that something so breathtaking could harbor such darkness.

Flying transcended everything she’d imagined.

Not the static constraints of airplane travel she’d known on Earth, but dynamic, alive—every shift in Ignis’s muscles communicated through her body, every adjustment of his wings changing their trajectory in ways that felt like shared intention rather than separate beings moving together.

The wind rushed past, tugging at her cloak and hair. The rhythmic beat of Ignis’s wings created a hypnotic cadence, his muscles moving in perfect harmony beneath her. Her body swayed naturally with his movements, finding balance without conscious thought. When he banked left, she leaned with him; when he rose on a thermal current, she adjusted her weight forward.

It wasn’t just skill—it was something deeper, as if she could feel his intentions, every sense attuned to his presence beneath her.

For a breathless moment, exhilaration overwhelmed her. This was freedom beyond anything Earth had offered—to pierce clouds, to dance with wind currents, to see the world spread beneath like a living map unbound by human constraints.

Then reality returned with sobering clarity. They flew not for pleasure but for confrontation. Below, at the agreed meeting point of the northern pass, Celestorian forces would be gathering.

Coal would be there. Her family. Lyra. All held hostage to force her return.

Then reality returned with sobering clarity. They flew not for pleasure but for confrontation. Below, at the agreed meeting point of the northern pass, Celestorian forces would be gathering. Coal would be there. Her family. Lyra. All held hostage to force her return.

“Tell me the plan again,” she said, leaning forward to speak closer to Ignis’s ear. “I need to be certain.”

His head tilted slightly, acknowledging her concern. “We approach openly—displaying strength while signaling willingness to negotiate. Our warriors remain at altitude, beyond arrow range but visible. I land with you, while Ember and a select strike force circle in reserve. We assess the situation, locate Coal and your family, then proceed based on what we find.”

The plan sounded reasonable, and while she had faith in their preparations after all their careful discussions, dread still coiled in her stomach. The Celestorians hadn’t exactly proven themselves honorable negotiators—their history of betrayal stretched back centuries.

“And if it’s a trap?”

A rumble vibrated through his body. “Every encounter with Celestoria is a trap, Luna. The question is merely which kind we face today.”

They flew in silence after that, the landscape changing as they approached the border. Lush forests gave way to sparser vegetation, then to the stark beauty of the northern pass—a natural gateway between kingdoms where ancient stone formations created a valley flanked by sheer cliffs.

And there, in the pass below, waited the Celestorian forces.

Even from their height, Sora could make out the regimented formations of the royal army. Hundreds of soldiers in gleaming armor stood in precise rows. Cavalry lined the edges, their mounts shifting restlessly. Archers positioned at strategic points along the cliffs, the morning sun glinting off arrow tips with ominous precision.

At the center of this military display stood a smaller group—royal guards surrounding what appeared to be a carriage bearing the Celestorian crest. Beside it, a platform had been erected, upon which several figures stood.

Ignis circled once, high above arrow range, giving Sora time to assess the scene below. “ There ,” she pathed, pointing. “ Near the platform. Those must be my family. ”

She could make out three figures huddled together, surrounded by guards. Not on the platform itself, but close enough to be visible. Another figure—shorter, slimmer—stood slightly apart. Lyra, perhaps?

And on the platform itself, something that made her blood run cold. A large cage, inside which a hunched form lay motionless.

“Coal,” she whispered, the name carried away by the wind.

Ignis’s entire body tensed beneath her. “ I see him. ”

A powerful roar echoed beside them, making the mountains tremble. Sora didn’t need to look to know it was Ember—she’d seen her mate injured and trapped.

With a series of wingbeats that spoke of controlled rage, he began their descent. The dragon formations behind them split with military precision, some maintaining altitude while others descended in protective patterns around their king.

The wind whipped more fiercely around them as they spiraled downward. Sora’s cloak snapped behind her like a battle standard, the hood remaining secure despite their speed. Through gaps in the clouds, she caught glimpses of movement below—soldiers forming tighter ranks, archers nocking arrows but holding them lowered.

At least they weren’t shooting. Yet.

As they broke through the last layer of cloud, the full scene clarified. The royal carriage door opened, and Princess Jewels emerged, resplendent in armor of her own—silver plate inlaid with sapphires that matched her cold eyes. Behind her came Prince Markth, his expression unreadable even from this diminishing distance.

Ignis landed with surprising gentleness, his claws finding purchase on stone smoothed by centuries of wind. Around them, a half dozen of his most trusted warriors touched down as well, forming a protective semi-circle at his back.

For a moment, silence reigned—the Celestorian forces and dragon contingent regarding each other across a hundred yards of neutral ground.

Then Princess Jewels stepped forward, her voice carrying with unnatural clarity across the distance. “The servant returns, as demanded. Though her choice of escort leaves much to be desired.”

Sora felt rather than heard Ignis’s growl—a vibration that traveled through his scales into her body. With practiced care, he lowered his shoulder, allowing her to dismount. Her legs trembled slightly as they took her weight, both from the long flight and from the tension coursing through her.

“Stay close,” he murmured, shifting partially into his dragoon form to stand beside her, wings still fully extended to display their impressive span. The transformation itself was a show of power—his absolute control even in this hostile territory.

Sora pushed back her hood, letting the sunlight wash over her face. Let them see the changes—the silver scales now adorning her temples, trailing down her neck and along her arms.

Let them see what they feared.

Princess Jewels’s expression darkened. “So the baker’s daughter has become a monster’s whore.”

Ignis took a half-step forward, but Sora placed her hand on his arm, restraining him. “I need to see my family,” she called, ignoring the princess’s barb. “And your prisoner.”

The princess gestured carelessly toward the huddled figures. “They remain unharmed, as promised. For now.”

Sora’s heart clenched as she recognized them—Garth and Miranda, their faces drawn with fear and exhaustion, and Morgana, whose expression held something more complex than mere terror. Beside them stood Lyra, her scholar’s robes tattered, a bruise darkening one cheek.

“And Coal?” Ignis demanded, his voice carrying the weight of barely contained fury.

A smile curved Princess Jewels’s lips, cold as midwinter frost. “The spy lives. Though he proved remarkably resistant to our questions.”

She made a gesture, and guards moved to the cage on the platform, prodding the figure inside with spear butts. Coal stirred, raising his head with visible effort. Even from this distance, Sora could see the damage—scales missing in patches, wounds that hadn’t been allowed to heal, eyes dull with pain.

A collective growl rose from the dragons behind them. Ember’s, most distinct of all, edged with grief and fury.

“Let’s dispense with games,” Jewels said, stepping closer. “You know our terms. The servant returns to Celestoria. The spy and her family go free.”

“And we’re to trust the word of a family renowned for betrayal?” Ignis’s voice remained steady, but heat radiated from his form, warming the air around them. “Your grandfather murdered our omega queen during peace talks. Why should this exchange be any different?”

Prince Markth moved forward then, his hand raised in what appeared to be a conciliatory gesture. “My sister speaks harshly, but our intention is resolution, not bloodshed. Too much has been lost already.” His voice carried differently than Jewels’s—gentler, more measured. “Let us end this cycle of vengeance.”

Something about his tone made Sora study him closer. Unlike his sister’s cold calculation, his expression held what appeared to be genuine distress. He didn’t look at her with disgust or hatred, but with something almost like... curiosity?

“I’ll go with you,” Sora announced, drawing startled looks from both royals. “But only after my family and Coal are safely with Ignis.”

Princess Jewels’s eyes narrowed. “We could take you by force. Look around you, creature. You’re surrounded by the finest army in Artania.”

“You could try,” Ignis growled, smoke curling from his nostrils. “But at what cost? How many of your ‘finest’ would survive dragon fire?”

For all her bravado, the princess must have recognized the threat wasn’t empty. She glanced at her brother, some silent communication passing between them.

“A compromise, then,” Prince Markth suggested. “We release the family first, as a show of good faith. Once they are safely beyond our reach, we discuss terms for the spy.”

It wasn’t perfect, but Sora felt Ignis’s slight nod behind her. “Acceptable,” she called. “Send them now.”

Princess Jewels’s lips thinned with displeasure, but she nodded to the guards. Garth, Miranda, and Morgana were ushered forward, their steps faltering as they approached the space between armies. Lyra followed, her scholar’s gaze darting between Sora and the dragons with barely disguised fascination despite her predicament.

“Tell them to walk straight to us,” Ignis murmured. “Do not let them stray or stop.”

Sora raised her voice. “Come directly to me,” she called. “Don’t stop for anything.”

The family moved with painful slowness across the neutral ground. Garth supported Miranda, whose limp spoke of injury or sheer exhaustion. Morgana walked slightly apart, her gaze locked on Sora with an expression that blended relief, fear, and something harder to name.

Every step across the barren stretch felt like an eternity. Sora tracked their progress, weighing the distance still left to cover against the tense, rigid line of royal guards standing watch behind them.

When her family finally reached them, Miranda collapsed into Sora’s arms, her body trembling with exhaustion. “My child,” she whispered, fingers tracing the silver scales at Sora’s temple. “What have they done to you?”

“I’m still me,” Sora assured her, though the words felt like half-truths against her tongue. “You’re safe now.”

Garth stood protectively beside them, his baker’s hands calloused but gentle as they squeezed her shoulder. His eyes, however, remained fixed on the dragons with undisguised wonder. “So the old stories were true,” he murmured.

Morgana hung back, her gaze flickering between Sora and Princess Jewels. “Sister,” she said finally, the word carrying a weight that made Sora’s heart ache. “I never meant—”

“I know,” Sora interrupted, not wanting to hear the confession—not here, not now. “We’ll talk later.”

Lyra approached last, her scholar’s robes torn and dirty but her eyes bright with fervor. “The prophecy unfolds,” she whispered, gripping Sora’s arm. “Just as the ancient texts foretold.”

One of Ignis’s warriors moved forward, wings extended to shield the family. “Take them to safety,” Ignis commanded. “Beyond arrow range.”

As the warrior guided her family away, Princess Jewels’s voice cut across the distance. “You have your precious family,” she called. “Now for the terms of our spy’s release.”

Sora exchanged a glance with Ignis. His crimson eyes held a warning she understood without words: danger waited in whatever came next.

“We must approach,” he said quietly. “Stay behind me.”

They moved forward together, crossing the neutral ground with measured steps. The Celestorian guards shifted their positions subtly, hands moving to weapons, arrows still nocked.

On the platform, Coal remained motionless in his cage, only his eyes tracking their approach.

Princess Jewels awaited them at the base of the platform, her armor gleaming in the strengthening sunlight. Prince Markth stood slightly behind her, his expression unreadable but his posture tense—as if he didn’t want to be here as much as them.

“So the baker’s daughter returns,” Jewels said, her voice pitched to carry no further than their small circle. “Though not as you left us.”

“I’ve changed,” Sora acknowledged, meeting the princess’s cold gaze directly. “But then, it shouldn’t be a surprise to you.”

Something flickered across Jewels’s face—hatred, perhaps, or envy. “The spy’s release comes with a price,” she said, attention shifting to Ignis. “One I think you’ll find interesting, dragon king.”

Ignis’s wings tensed behind him. “Name it.”

“Your life,” Jewels said simply, and in one fluid motion, drew a blade from beneath her cloak—a dagger that gleamed with unnatural opalescence, its surface moving with oil-slick colors that spoke of corrupted essence.

Sora saw the strike coming a heartbeat before it launched. The princess lunged, not at her but at Ignis, aiming for the narrow gap between scales at his throat—a vulnerable point few would know to target.

Without thought, without hesitation, Sora threw herself between them.

Pain exploded along her side as the blade found purchase—not a killing blow, but one that cut through the dragon-scale armor with terrifying ease. She gasped, the world tilting strangely around her.

Ignis roared, the sound shattering stone as he caught her falling body. Blood, hot and wet, spread beneath her armor, soaking the leather beneath.

“Sora!” His voice seemed to come from a great distance, though his face hovered just above hers.

Beyond him, chaos erupted. Arrows rained from the cliffs. Dragons dove from the sky, their formations breaking as they sought to reach their king. The royal guards surged forward, weapons drawn.

Princess Jewels stood frozen, her eyes fixed on Sora with an expression of stunned disbelief. “She shouldn’t have been able to move that fast,” she whispered. “No human could—”

“She is no mere human,” Ignis snarled, gathering Sora closer. “And you have just made your last mistake.”

Darkness began to eclipse Sora’s vision, creeping in from the edges like spilled ink. The wound burned with unnatural heat—not just pain but corruption spreading through her veins.

“Poison,” she managed, the word slipping through blood-flecked lips.

“Retreat!” Ignis bellowed to his force, his command filled with alpha rage. “To the mountains!”

A blur of bronze scales streaked across Sora’s fading vision—Ember, diving with reckless abandon toward the platform. The female guard’s wings tucked tight against her body, transforming her into a living missile that crashed through the line of royal guards with bone-shattering force.

She landed atop Coal’s cage, talons scrabbling against metal bars as she tore at the structure with desperate strength. The metal groaned and twisted, but held against her assault. Coal’s face pressed against the bars at his raging mate.

“Go!” Coal’s voice carried across the distance. “Save her!”

Ember hesitated, torn between her mate and her duty. With a roar that carried anguish beyond words, she unleashed a torrent of flame around the cage, creating a barrier of fire that momentarily drove back approaching soldiers.

The bronze dragon’s tail lashed out, wrapping around the nearest figure—Prince Markth, whose eyes widened in shock as he was yanked off his feet. In one fluid motion, Ember swept her tail in a devastating arc that sent Princess Jewels and her guards flying back.

“Ember!” Ignis’s voice cut through the chaos with commanding precision. “Now!”

With Coal’s cage still resisting her efforts, Ember abandoned her attempt, clutching the struggling prince in her talons as she launched skyward. Her wings beat furiously against the air, creating violent downdrafts that scattered arrows meant to bring her down.

Around them, the sky darkened as dragons converged, their massive forms blocking the morning sun. As one, they exhaled—streams of multicolored flame raining down to create a wall of fire between the retreating dragons and the Celestorian forces.

The heat washed over Sora in waves, yet somehow didn’t burn—unlike the painful anguish in her body.

Through the flickering curtain of flame, Sora caught a final glimpse of Coal. He stood upright now, pressed against the bars, one hand extended toward the retreating Ember.

The world tilted sideways as Ignis launched into flight, his powerful wings creating concussive force that scattered smaller Celestorian soldiers like leaves in a tempest. The sudden acceleration drove daggers of pain from her wound throughout her body.

Darkness eclipsed the edges of her vision, creeping inward like spilled ink. The poison burning through her veins was unlike anything she’d felt before.

Am I finally dying?

The last sensation she registered before unconsciousness claimed her was Ignis’s voice, no longer the commanding roar of a king but the desperate plea of a mate:

“Stay with me, my Luna. Stay with me, please.”

Then darkness swallowed her completely, and she knew nothing more.