Page 24 of Beneath Scales and Shadows (Lost Lunas of Artania #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

SORA

Dawn’s first light hadn’t yet broken the horizon when Sora stood at the forest’s edge with Prince Markth beside her. Ignis’s dragoon form towered over them both, his ruby scales catching the moonlight in patterns that turned her blood to fire.

There was something about the way he stood—utterly still, yet coiled with barely restrained power—that made her stomach twist with heat. The sharp gleam of his horns, the way his wings stretched wide like a living fortress behind him, the moonlight skating across those ruby scales like flame on stone... it all made her forget how to breathe. He looked like a god carved from war and fire, and for a moment, Sora wasn’t sure if she wanted to run into battle—or press herself against his chest, seeking the comfort of his presence.

The smell of dew-covered pine and the earthy scent of fallen leaves mingled with his smoky stone essence, creating a final memory she’d carry with her into danger.

“It’s not too late to reconsider,” Ignis growled, his voice pitched low so only she could hear. His crimson gaze reflected the dying stars, filled with barely contained fear.

“You know I have to do this.” Sora reached for his scaled hand, drawing strength from its familiar warmth. “Coal is suffering because of my existence.”

Prince Markth cleared his throat and took a pointed step away to study the castle gates in the distance, giving them the illusion of privacy. His borrowed dragon-crafted armor gleamed dully in the pre-dawn gloom.

Ignis’s tail flicked with agitation, disturbing the undergrowth. “If anything happens to you—”

“It won’t.” She pressed her palm against the ruby scale embedded in her side, its presence a constant, comforting reminder of their bond. “I’ll feel you with me the entire time.”

His wings stirred, vast and silent, curling around her like living shadows as he drew her to his chest. Through their blood bond, she felt his conflict—the rage at being separated from her warring with the tactical necessity of their plan.

“Come back to me,” he whispered, forked tongue flicking against her ear as he leaned down. “Promise me you won’t do anything reckless.”

Sora tilted her face up, meeting his burning gaze. “Only if you make the same promise.”

A rumble of reluctant amusement vibrated through his chest. One taloned hand slid to her side, fingers tracing the embedded scale with reverent precision while his other hand found the mark at her neck, the union of their blood still fresh and sensitive to his touch.

The touch lit a fire beneath her skin, a surge of warmth that answered something deep and wordless between them. His maw claimed hers, the unyielding scales brushing her lips in a way that felt impossibly perfect. There was nothing gentle in the kiss—only possession, fierce claim, and fury at the separation looming between them.

When he finally pulled away, Sora felt the absence like physical pain.

“Return to me,” he demanded, the command layered with alpha authority and personal desperation in equal measure. “Or I will tear this kingdom stone from stone to find you. I’d burn it all to ash if that’s what it takes.”

“I will.” She pressed her forehead against his chest, inhaling his scent one last time. “Wait for the signal before your attack.”

Prince Markth approached, his expression carefully neutral despite witnessing the intimacy between dragon and human. “We should move. The changing of the guard happens at dawn, and we need to reach the eastern passage before then.”

Sora nodded, stepping back from Ignis’s embrace. Her dragon rider armor felt heavier than before, the scales woven into leather pressing against her skin like a reminder of what—of whom she fought for.

Ignis’s gaze held hers for one final moment before he melted into the shadows, his ruby scales disappearing into the forest’s darkness. She sensed him withdraw, a subtle shift like a tide pulling back—but still there, steady in the distance, never fully gone. The tether between them stretched but didn’t break, a constant presence in the back of her mind.

Their connection pulsed like a silent compass, always pointing her toward him—hopefully, no matter the distance.

She turned to the six masked dragons accompanying her, their human forms so perfect they might have passed for native Celestorians. Only the unnatural stillness of their movements and the predatory awareness in their eyes betrayed their true nature.

“Remember,” she said, meeting each gaze in turn, “we’re retrieving Coal and any other captives. Nothing else matters.”

Prince Markth led them through the underbrush, moving with the confidence of someone who’d spent years memorizing escape routes. The looming silhouette of Celestoria Castle grew larger with each step, its white marble towers turning pink with the first hints of approaching dawn.

“This way,” he whispered, veering toward a section of outer wall half-hidden by climbing ivy. “The servants’ tunnels connect to the eastern dungeon through old aqueducts. The passage hasn’t been used in generations—my grandfather ordered them sealed, but my sister had them reopened for... special deliveries.”

Sora’s stomach clenched at his implication. More omegas, transported in secret for harvesting.

A loose stone revealed a narrow passage that smelled of damp earth and decay. Markth produced a small crystal from his pocket, its internal light glowing just bright enough to illuminate the tunnel without revealing their presence to guards above.

“Stay close,” he instructed, ducking into the opening. “And be silent. Sound carries strangely through these old passages.”

Sora followed, the disguised dragons filing in behind her. The tunnel narrowed until her shoulders brushed against rough-hewn stone on either side. Chains hung from the walls at irregular intervals, some rusted with age, others disturbingly bright and new.

Through their blood bond, she sent a wordless reassurance to Ignis, feeling his simmering anxiety like a storm on the horizon. His presence grounded her, even as the walls seemed to close in.

After what felt like hours of crawling through increasing darkness, Markth stopped. “We’re beneath the eastern wing now,” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. “The prison cells are directly above us. Coal should be in the isolation chamber at the far end.”

One of the disguised dragons—Blaze, she recognized by the copper sheen of his eyes—touched her shoulder. “I smell blood,” he murmured. “Fresh. And something worse.”

Prince Markth nodded grimly. “The shadow alchemists work through the night. The essence extraction never stops.”

Rising fury threatened to overwhelm Sora’s caution. She drew a steadying breath, centering herself on the quiet rhythm of Ignis—an invisible pull, steady and sure, thrumming beneath her skin. “How do we reach the isolation chamber?”

“There’s a maintenance shaft.” Markth pointed to a rusted grate set into the ceiling. “It leads to a guard post, then the corridor. I can create a distraction—most of the guards know me. They won’t question my presence.”

Sora exchanged glances with Blaze. The plan carried enormous risk, but they’d already committed. “Do it.”

The prince climbed up first, pushing the grate aside with practiced ease. The disguised dragons followed, their movements fluid and silent despite their armored forms. Sora went last, pulling herself into a narrow stone corridor lit by sputtering torches.

“Wait here,” Markth whispered, smoothing his borrowed clothes. “Count to one hundred, then follow the left passage to the end.”

He straightened his spine, assuming the regal bearing of a prince, and strode toward the guard post with confident steps. Within moments, they heard his voice—commanding, imperious, exactly what one would expect from royalty.

“What is the meaning of this? I demanded regular reports on the prisoner’s condition! My sister will hear of your incompetence.”

The guards’ responses were muffled, but Sora caught the unmistakable sound of men scrambling to attention. Boots shuffled against stone as they followed the prince away from their post.

“Now,” she commanded quietly to the dragons.

They moved as one, silent shadows passing the abandoned guard station. Sora’s heightened senses picked up the mingled scents of fear, pain, and something sickly sweet—corruption spreading through the very stones.

The isolation chamber stood at the corridor’s end, its door reinforced with metal bands etched with unfamiliar symbols. Two guards remained, but Blaze and another dragon—Enixa, her emerald eyes gleaming beneath her mask—dispatched them with terrifying efficiency, clawed hands around their throats before either could sound an alarm.

“Coal,” Sora called softly through the barred window. “Are you there?”

A weak cough answered her. “Who comes for a dead man?”

His voice—once rich with cynical humor—had withered to a raspy whisper. Blaze growled, low and dangerous, as he examined the door’s locking mechanism.

“Enchanted,” he muttered. “I can’t break it without alerting the entire castle.”

Sora studied the symbols, recognition dawning. They matched patterns she’d seen in Zalaya’s ritual chest—wards against draconic magic. But she wasn’t fully dragon, not yet.

“I can open it,” she said, reaching for the central design. “The blood bond might shield me from its effects.”

Before anyone could stop her, she pressed her palm against the ward. Pain lanced up her arm, but instead of triggering an alarm, the symbols flickered and faded. The door swung open with a low groan.

Coal lay curled on the cell’s far side, his bronze scales dulled almost to black. Patches had been stripped from his body, leaving raw flesh exposed to the damp air. His eyes—once sharp with intelligence—were sunken and glazed with pain.

“You shouldn’t have come,” he whispered as Blaze rushed to his side. “It’s what they want.”

“We’re all getting out,” Sora assured him, scanning the small chamber for anything they might use. Her gaze landed on a table covered with vials of shimmering liquid—essence harvested from Coal’s body. She grabbed them all, storing them in the pouch at her belt. Asher might use them to create antidotes or counter-enchantments.

Blaze lifted Coal with careful hands, supporting his ravaged body as they moved back into the corridor. “We need to hurry,” he urged. “The prince’s distraction won’t last much longer.”

They retraced their steps through the servant passage, Coal’s ragged breathing the only sound beyond their footfalls. Halfway to the exit, Prince Markth rejoined them, his face grim.

“The royal alchemist approaches,” he warned. “We have minutes at most.”

Panic rippled through her, not her own, but his—a sudden spike that tightened her chest, sharp and impossible to ignore. The aerial attack was beginning—earlier than planned. Something had gone wrong.

A scream echoed through the stone corridors, followed by shouted orders. Alarm bells began to toll, their sonorous clanging reverberating through the castle walls.

“They know,” Enixa hissed, eyes flashing to their true crimson beneath her mask. “Someone discovered our presence.”

Sora’s gaze snapped to Markth, but the prince’s shock seemed genuine. “Not me,” he insisted. “I wasn’t questioned, but my sister has eyes everywhere.”

No time for accusations. “New plan,” Sora decided. “We split up. Coal needs immediate medical attention. The rest of you, get him back to the tunnel.”

Blaze’s eyes narrowed. “And you?”

“I’m going to the royal laboratory,” she replied, her hand falling to the ruby scale at her side. “If they’re creating corrupted essence weapons, we need to destroy them.”

“The king ordered us to protect you,” Enixa reminded her, shifting Coal’s weight in her arms.

“And I’m ordering you to save Coal.” Sora’s voice hardened with authority she hadn’t known she possessed. “I’ll follow once I’ve destroyed their research.”

A quiet pressure built beneath her ribs—not her own, but his—an unmistakable concern mounting like a gathering storm. Dragons were engaging Celestorian forces at the castle perimeter, drawing attention away from the eastern wing. It might be enough.

Arrows flew, striking the air dragon forces.

“Which way to the laboratory?” she asked Markth.

The prince hesitated. “Upper level, north tower. But you’ll never reach it alone.”

“I won’t be alone.” She pressed her hand to the scale at her side, feeling Ignis’s presence like a steady flame. “Go. Get Coal to safety.”

Against their better judgment, the dragons obeyed, bearing Coal toward the tunnel entrance. Markth lingered, conflict evident in his expression.

“Take this,” he said finally, pressing a small crystal into her palm. “It’s a royal seal—it might get you past the laboratory guards.”

Sora nodded her thanks before turning toward the curving staircase that would lead her deeper into enemy territory. The castle corridors blurred around her as she relied on Markth’s hasty directions, pressing herself into shadows whenever guards rushed past.

The north tower loomed above, its white stone darkened by smoke from the aerial battle outside. Through the windows she passed, Sora caught glimpses of dragons in their true forms, wings cutting through clouds as they engaged Celestorian forces on the battlements.

Heat flared beneath her skin, sharp and sudden—Ignis’s fury crashing into her like a wave. He knew she’d deviated from the plan. His fury mixed with fear, pushing against her consciousness like a physical force.

I’ll be careful, she promised silently, knowing he could sense her intent if not her exact words.

The laboratory door stood at the tower’s highest level, guarded by two men in the distinctive black armor of the royal alchemists’ personal guard. Neither had the vacant eyes of essence-harvested victims—these were true believers, men who had chosen to serve the darkness consuming their kingdom.

Sora straightened her posture, adopting the confident stride she’d seen Princess Jewels use. Without hesitation, she approached them, holding out Markth’s crystal.

“The prince requires samples immediately,” she announced, infusing her voice with imperious command. “The dragon attack has accelerated our timeline.”

The guards exchanged uncertain glances before the taller one reached for the crystal. As his fingers touched it, blue light flared, temporarily blinding them both. Sora didn’t hesitate—she drove her knee into the first guard’s groin, then slammed the second’s head against the stone wall with strength born of desperation and awakening dragon blood.

Both collapsed, leaving the laboratory door undefended. Sora pushed it open, her senses immediately assaulted by the sickly-sweet smell of corrupted essence.

The circular chamber ahead contained horrors beyond imagination. Glass tanks lined the walls, each containing a suspended figure—human, dragon, elf, fae—their eyes open but unseeing, their bodies connected to tubes that drained their very life force into collection vessels.

At the chamber’s center stood a complex distillation apparatus, bubbling with liquid in various shades of opalescence. Notebooks and scrolls covered workbenches, detailed illustrations showing essence application to weapons, potions, even food.

Sora’s stomach lurched. They weren’t just creating weapons—they were developing methods to convert the entire population, making everyone unwitting consumers of harvested essence.

She had to destroy it all.

The silver scales along her arms shimmered as she seized a nearby lantern, smashing it against the workbench. Oil spilled across papers and wood, flames licking upward with hungry intensity. She moved methodically, breaking every vessel, upending every beaker of corrupted essence, allowing the flames to purify what physical force could not.

A swell of his approval brushed against her, warm and fleeting—chased quickly by the sharp edge of urgency. The attack outside intensified, dragons creating a diversion that might allow her escape—but not for long.

The glass tanks required more direct action. Sora seized a wrought-iron stand, using it to smash the first tank. Fluid gushed across the floor, carrying the unconscious victim with it. She moved to the second, then the third, freeing each prisoner while flames spread across the laboratory.

One of the captives stirred—a young man with elf-like features, his skin bearing the faintest shimmer of scales. An omega, like her. His eyes fluttered open, confusion giving way to understanding as he took in the blazing laboratory.

“Can you walk?” she asked, helping him sit up.

He nodded weakly. “Others... below.”

“How many?”

“Dozens,” he whispered. “In the breeding chambers.”

Fresh horror washed through her. Breeding chambers? What new atrocity was this?

No time to investigate—the flames had grown too intense. Black smoke billowed upward, obscuring the laboratory’s high ceiling. They had to leave now.

“Lean on me,” she instructed, supporting the rescued omega as they staggered toward the door. The other freed captives remained unresponsive, but she couldn’t leave them. “Can you help me with the others?”

Together, they managed to drag three unconscious prisoners into the corridor before the laboratory’s central apparatus exploded, showering the room with shards of glass and burning essence.

The tower’s spiral staircase seemed endless as they descended, smoke pursuing them like a living thing. Sora’s lungs burned, her vision blurring, but she forced herself onward, one step at a time.

A rush of desperate concern gripped her—Ignis, pressing against her thoughts with a silent, urgent plea: hurry, get out, survive.

The laboratory’s destruction would’ve been noticed. Guards would be converging. But ahead, windows revealed open sky—and dragons circling closer, claws extended to pluck allies from the burning castle.

“Almost there,” she encouraged the weakened omega, who stumbled beside her. “Just a little farther.”

They reached a balcony overlooking the eastern courtyard. Below, chaos reigned—soldiers firing arrows skyward, dragons diving to shower flame upon weapon emplacements, civilians fleeing in terror.

A bronze blur streaked past—Ember, her wings tucked tight against her body as she searched for any sign of Coal. Sora couldn’t signal her without exposing their position to the guards below.

Instead, she pressed her hand to the scale at her side, channeling every ounce of need through their blood bond. Here. We’re here. Help us.

The response was immediate—a flood of protective rage that nearly drove her to her knees. Through the smoke-hazed sky, she caught sight of a vast shadow cutting through the clouds, wings stretched wide as it banked sharply and slowed its descent.

Ignis crashed onto the balcony with enough force to crack the stone beneath his claws. His true draconic form filled the space completely, wings blocking arrows fired from below, tail sweeping away approaching guards who’d finally noticed their escape.

His crimson eyes found hers instantly, pupils dilating as he took in her soot-stained face, the rescued omega at her side, and the three unconscious figures behind her.

“You were supposed to stay with the others,” his voice growled directly into her mind, fury barely containing relief.

“Plans changed,” she replied, already helping the weakened omega toward him. “We need to get them out first.”

Arguing would waste precious seconds. Ignis lowered his body, allowing her to position the rescued captives across his shoulders. His scales radiated heat that seemed to revive them slightly, drawing weak moans from previously silent forms.

As she secured the last unconscious prisoner, movement at the edge of the courtyard caught her eye. More dragons descended—Blaze and Enixa, their scales gleaming copper and emerald as they navigated through a hail of arrows.

“Take them,” she called, gesturing to the rescued omegas on Ignis’s back. “Get them to safety.”

Ignis’s crimson eyes narrowed, suspicion flaring through their bond. “What are you planning?”

“The omega said there are dozens more in breeding chambers below.” She stepped back from his towering form, decision already made. “I can’t leave them.”

Fury blazed through their connection, hot enough to scorch. “Absolutely not—”

“We don’t have time to argue.” She gestured toward the approaching dragons. “Transfer the prisoners. I’ll scout the lower levels and return to this balcony for extraction.”

Blaze and Enixa landed with precision, wings creating downdrafts that scattered debris across the stone. Without waiting for Ignis’s approval, Sora began transferring the weakened omegas to their care.

“Twenty minutes,” she promised, meeting Ignis’s burning gaze. “Then I’ll be right here.”

His tail lashed, cracking stone. “Ten. Any longer and I come after you.”

She nodded, already edging toward the tower doorway. The intensity of it hit like a blow—his protective fury battling reluctant acceptance, a storm of emotion so fierce it left her reeling.

“Dragon blood or not, you’re still more vulnerable than you realize,” Blaze warned, securing an unconscious omega across his shoulders. “Your bond with the king makes you invaluable.”

“I know.” Sora touched the ruby scale at her side. “But I’m never truly alone now.”

With that, she slipped back into the smoke-filled tower. Behind her, the rush of air signaled the dragons’ departure, carrying their precious cargo to safety.

Finding the breeding chambers proved easier than expected. Guards rushed past her without a second glance, focused on the dragon attack outside. Servants fled in the opposite direction, seeking shelter from falling debris. No one questioned a woman in dragon rider armor moving purposefully through the chaos.

Stone stairs spiraled downward, deeper than she’d expected. The air grew thick with moisture and the acrid scent of fear. Flickering torches cast dancing shadows across walls engraved with unsettling symbols—wards against escape rather than intrusion.

The corridor widened into a cavernous space. Unlike the laboratory above with its clinical precision, this chamber resembled a grotesque menagerie. Glass enclosures lined the walls, each containing a figure—predominantly female, though some male—their bodies connected to tubes and monitoring devices.

Breeding chambers. The name took on horrifying clarity.

They weren’t merely harvesting omega essence—they were breeding it, forcing captives to produce offspring with specific traits, then harvesting both parent and child.

Revulsion crawled up her throat. Through their blood bond, she felt Ignis’s horror mirror her own as he sensed what she witnessed.

No time for shock. The first enclosure offered no easy release—no levers, no hinges. Gritting her teeth, she yanked at the latch until it gave way with a shriek.

The woman inside stared at her with vacant eyes, too drugged to comprehend freedom. Sora disconnected the monitoring equipment, murmuring reassurances as she helped the woman to her feet.

“Can you understand me?” she asked, supporting the woman’s weight. “We need to move quickly.”

No response. The woman’s legs buckled, muscles atrophied from confinement. Liberating all these prisoners alone was impossible—they were too weak to move, let alone escape.

Sora pushed the images toward him—clear, urgent flashes of what she’d found, carried on the thread that tethered the bond between them. His response came as a wave of fury so potent it made her dizzy—followed by grim determination. More dragons would come. They would save them all.

A bell tolled somewhere above—not the alarm from before, but a different pattern. Warning of intruders within the lower levels.

She’d been discovered.

Sora lowered the woman back onto the platform, promising to return. She moved quickly toward the exit, mind racing. She needed to reach the rendezvous point before guards cut off her escape.

The corridor beyond the breeding chamber teemed with black-armored guards, their weapons drawn. Not the standard castle guard—these wore the distinctive insignia of the royal alchemists’ personal security force.

She retreated, seeking another path. The breeding chamber had multiple entrances, surely—

An arrow whistled past her shoulder, embedding itself in the stone wall with a dull thud. She spun, finding three guards blocking her previous route, crossbows aimed at her heart.

“Surrender,” the lead guard commanded, his voice muffled behind his helmet. “The princess wants you alive.”

Sora’s hand fell to her side, fingers brushing the ruby scale embedded there. A tight pull coiled in her chest—Ignis’s concern sharpening with each passing second. Seven minutes gone. She’d promised ten.

“I surrender,” she called, raising her hands slowly. “Don’t harm the prisoners.”

The guards approached cautiously, binding her wrists with metal cuffs engraved with the same suppression wards she’d seen throughout the castle. The metal burned against her silver scales, not painfully but with uncomfortable pressure.

They marched her upward through different passages than she’d descended, bypassing the laboratory level entirely. Higher and higher they climbed, until they emerged into a grand corridor lined with tapestries depicting Celestoria’s storied history—carefully edited to omit any peaceful coexistence with dragonkind.

Wooden doors stretched high above her, thick and weathered, their dark surface carved with the intricate lines of the royal crest. The weight of history pressed from every etched symbol, their sheer size casting a shadow that swallowed the entryway whole.

The throne room.

Dread pooled in her stomach as the guards forced her forward.

The doors swung open silently, revealing a cavernous space dominated by four ornate thrones on a raised dais. Early morning light streamed through stained glass windows, casting multicolored patterns across marble floors.

All four royal family members sat in their respective seats. King Ralph, his expression coldly imperious despite the chaos engulfing his castle. Queen Marcille, her beautiful face a mask of disdain. Princess Jewels, eyes glittering with triumph as she leaned forward expectantly.

And Prince Markth, his face ashen with guilt, gaze fixed on some point beyond Sora’s shoulder as if he couldn’t bear to look at her directly.

The guards threw her to the floor before the dais. Pain radiated through her knees and palms as she caught herself on the unyielding marble.

“So,” King Ralph’s voice echoed through the cavernous space, “the dragon’s whore returns to us.”

Sora lifted her chin, refusing to show fear. “I came for what was stolen.”

“Stolen?” Queen Marcille laughed, the sound brittle as breaking glass. “The spy was a traitor to his own kind, infiltrating our castle with malicious intent.”

“His kind?” Sora challenged, rising to her knees. “Coal is a delta dragon. Your people are the ones who’ve betrayed your heritage—harvesting omegas for their essence, breeding them like cattle.”

Princess Jewels descended from her throne, circling Sora with predatory interest. “Look at these scales,” she murmured, trailing cold fingers along Sora’s cheek. “Silver, like Queen Vaelora’s were. I wonder how they’ll look when I peel them from your flesh one by one.”

She uncoiled a whip from her belt, the leather straps embedded with metal barbs designed to tear flesh from bone. “Shall we find out how many lashes it takes before your dragon king feels your pain through whatever primitive bond you share?”

Markth shifted in his throne, guilt etched in every line of his face. His hands turned upward in a subtle gesture—apology, helplessness. He was too afraid—too much of a coward to help her… not when they were outnumbered.

Princess Jewels flicked her wrist, the spiked whip cracking against the marble floor inches from Sora’s knees. “I wonder how you’ll scream,” she mused, eyes bright with cruel anticipation. “How many lashes before those pretty silver scales come away in strips?”

She raised the whip, arm drawing back for the first strike.

Heat surged through Sora’s body, sudden and overwhelming. Not fear or pain, but something else entirely—a burning need that radiated outward from her core, scorching through her veins. The mark at her neck pulsed with molten intensity, and the ruby scale at her side flared with internal light.

Moon rays slanted through the stained glass, bathing her in silver radiance. The connection clicked into place—moonlight, heat, the burning in her blood.

She was entering her first heat.

The royal family recoiled as her scent shifted, sweetening with unmistakable omega pheromones laced with something wilder, more dangerous—dragon essence, raw and untamed.

“What is happening?” King Ralph demanded, rising from his throne. “Guards!”

Sora tilted her head back, sending out a cry only he would feel—pure, desperate need flooding the tether between them like a pulse of wildfire. The suppression cuffs cracked as her silver scales rippled with internal light, spreading across her skin in overlapping patterns.

Princess Jewels stumbled backward, whip forgotten as she stared in horror. “She’s transforming,” she whispered. “Right before us.”

A primal bugle shattered the morning air—Ignis answering her call with a battle cry that rattled the castle’s foundations. The sky erupted with echoes as dozens of dragons responded to their king’s summons.

“You should run,” she advised the royal family, her voice altered—deeper, resonant with power she’d never wielded before. “He’s coming for me, and he’s bringing the rage of generations with him.”