Page 9 of Beneath Scales and Shadows (Lost Lunas of Artania #1)

CHAPTER NINE

IGNIS

The jeweled-veined council chamber felt suffocating despite its cavernous size.

Ignis half-listened as Blaze finished reporting on Celestoria’s western military movements, his attention wandering toward the mountain’s depths where Sora had disappeared with Zalaya hours ago.

Her scent was gone, and in its place lingered an aching hollow beneath his scales—one strategy couldn’t touch and claws couldn’t reach, even in his current half-form.

Every heartbeat without her nearby felt like punishment. After a century of iron control, his ferality strained against his restraint, urging him to seek what was his .

He knew it was foolish—for they weren’t bonded—to be unable to have her out of his sight, especially when there were many in the clan searching for a mate of their own when there’s a blossoming omega with the freedom to roam their caverns and tunnels.

He trusted his avian advisor—regardless of her being a harpy and not a dragon—to be her guide while she wasn’t by his side. The delta healer may have had a dark history, and her own quirks when regarding worshipping the Moon Goddess and the prophecies, but she was loyal.

She wouldn’t let anything happen to the first Luna graced upon Artania.

“My king?” Ember’s voice sliced through his thoughts, eyebrow lifted, her scarred face creased with rare concern. “The southern defenses?”

Ignis straightened, wings shifting against his back. “Double the sentries at Blackclaw Pass. The humans will test our weaknesses before committing to full assault. We won’t reveal ourselves until they reach the center. There, we will show them how it feels to be burned alive.”

“And if they have their black magic and corrupted weapons?” Coal tilted his head toward Ember, a soft reminder of the damage that was done to his guard—his clan—from Celestoria’s wicked and unnatural ways.

“What does this prophecy of yours say about your Luna?” Ember sneered. “And how she’s supposed to help us, bringing balance to all of Artania.” She flicked her hand, her fingers slicing through the air, toward the large map sprawled across the war table. “Perhaps we should have her here and let her grace us with her divine wisdom.”

“Enough!” Ignis let out a sharp growl, talons scraping lightly against stone. “I won’t have such words spoken within my presence.” He met each of his council members’ eyes; they admittedly averted their gazes, exposing their necks and submitting to him. “We’ll reconvene after the midday meal. My queen must be hungry after her studies.”

Cinderfell sighed and nodded as he left, while Asher’s face softened as he followed the eldest advisor. Yet both Coal and Ember remained—the others filed out—his oldest friends, the only ones he could truly speak freely with. They exchanged a glance, Coal’s lips pressed into a thin line while Ember’s brows drew together.

Neither had openly challenged his declaration, though Sora’s acceptance was no longer unspoken. He knew there would be some discourse amongst his clan, but he thought his council would at least trust that he wouldn’t jeopardize them.

That they would trust his instincts.

“Another successful council meeting up until the end,” Coal remarked, leaning back in his chair. His dark eyes fixed on Ignis with that calculating look he’d known since childhood. “Though I wonder about your latest... decision.”

Ignis raised an eyebrow. “Which decision would that be?”

“Bringing a human into our midst without being tested. You didn’t let me integrate her.” Coal’s voice dropped lower, the way it always did when he was concerned. “Is it wise to have her here, among our most guarded secrets?”

Ember nodded, crossing her arms. “I hate to agree with him, but he has a point. After everything the humans have done to our kind...”

“Sora is from the Blue Moon,” Ignis cut in, his voice sharper than intended. He drew a breath, steadying himself. “She’s not of Artania, even though we’ve found her in the midst of our greatest enemy. We must remember that not all humans have betrayed us monsters. Our cousins, like the Kaelthar clan, still have their intimate partnership with their brethren, Elaris Kingdom. She’s different, and should be treated with the respect she deserves.”

The heat in his chest flared, and Ignis knew his eyes had likely shifted from crimson to molten gold. It happened whenever his emotions ran high, whenever he thought of her .

Ember’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Different, is she? Or are you defending her because she’s the first omega we’ve crossed paths with in decades?” She leaned forward, finger tracing the rim of her glass goblet, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “She is rather beautiful, in that delicate human way.”

“She speaks openly, cutting you off,” his spy observed, voice carefully neutral despite the implicit criticism. “Before the council, no less.”

“She does,” Ignis said, a smile tugging at his lips.

“And this pleases you?”

He paused, considering how to explain what powerful and loyal delta-born could never fully comprehend. “Over a century I’ve ruled without opposition. An equal. Even though you’re members of my council—along with Blaze and Enixa, who are training their wings in preparation—and state your opinions on matters, my word is final. Blaze and Enixa, along with their wings’ end points, may be the other alphas within this clan, but they submit to me… They don’t have the power that I have. In the end, every word of mine is accepted as command, every decision met with immediate compliance.”

Understanding dawned in Ember’s amber eyes. “You respect her opinion—her defiance.”

“I treasure it,” Ignis admitted, frowning, the confession carrying deeper truth than intended. “She might be a warrior, but she has a sharp tongue and swift mind.”

“But is that enough?”

Ignis clenched his jaw. “She protected me.”

That silenced them both—their tails and wings stilled.

“What do you mean?” Coal asked, his posture straightening.

“At the Midwinter Ball. She stood between the royals and their guard versus me.” The memory flashed vividly—Sora’s slender form dressed in her white maid outfit, placing itself between him and danger without hesitation. “She deflected an arrow without thinking, to protect me. She had no reason to do that, especially if she was the enemy.”

He met both their gazes unflinchingly. “Every part of me knows she’s mine.”

Coal and Ember exchanged glances, as the confession hung in the air between them.

“That changes everything,” Coal muttered, dipping his head. “I can see why you have taken a liking to her.”

“Well,” Ember huffed, a gleam of respect in her eyes. “Now I’m interested in sparring against her. If she’s quick enough to deflect an arrow...”

“Don’t scare her away,” Ignis warned, though he couldn’t help the small smile. The thought of Sora training with Ember was both terrifying and oddly satisfying. He knew he was getting ahead of himself, but if he was going to lead with her by his side, she would need to know how to defend herself. “I mean it, Ember. She might have dragon-blood in her veins, and blessed by the Moon Goddess, but she’s still human.”

“If she’s going to be your queen, ruling beside you, she will need to be able to stand beside you in all things.” Coal’s deep voice rumbled through the chamber as he tapped a finger against the table, directly over the Celestorian Castle marked on the map. “Our enemies won’t show mercy because she’s human. They will see her as a traitor, and a source for their experiments.”

Something visceral and possessive roared to life within Ignis. The mere mention of Sora in danger, of her as his queen—it was too much, too soon, too raw . Heat coursed through his veins, and he felt the telltale prickle of scales threatening to burst along his forearms.

He couldn’t lose control, not here, not now.

Any sign of weakness, of losing the ability to stay in his half-shifted form as the clan’s king. It could lead for him to be challenged by any of the other alphas, believing that he’d lost his ways… that his sanity was slowly slipping.

As it was, Sora’s presence was already maddening, her sweet moonflower scent, making every fiber of his being demand for him to claim her—make her his —to ease the emptiness within him.

“This meeting is over,” he growled, pushing back from the table with enough force to send his chair scraping against the stone floor.

“Ignis—” Ember began, but he was already striding toward the door.

“I said, we’re done.” The temperature in the room had risen several degrees, the air shimmering around him as his control slipped. He knew if he’d remained, mistakes would be made.

He didn’t slam the door—that would be beneath his dignity as ruler—but the heavy iron panel shut with decisive finality behind him. In the corridor, Ignis pressed his forehead against the cool stone wall, drawing deep breaths until the fire in his blood subsided.

What was happening to him? He’d never lost control like this before. Not since he was a fledgling, learning to harness the power of his bloodline.

Was it because he’d met her? That she wasn’t in his sight, her scent gone, and he knew she was roaming his caverns without him?

“Where might my queen be hiding?”

He extended his awareness through the mountain passageways, a skill honed over centuries. The mental call found Zalaya instantly, her harpy consciousness distinct among the draconic minds within the base.

“Zalaya?”

Her response came immediately, a cool whisper against his consciousness. “Yes, my lord?”

“Where is she?” He didn’t need to specify who.

The harpy’s response carried unmistakable amusement. “Still in the Sacred Library, deep within its archives. Your Luna absorbs knowledge with the hunger of one starved for centuries. She belongs among our ancient texts as naturally as a hatchling to flame.”

Of course she was. Ignis pushed away from the wall, his steps already carrying him toward them.

“Is she alone?” He had to know.

“No, I am nearby, within eyesight, though she declined my offer of assistance. She seems... determined to find something.”

Ignis felt his lips curve into a smile despite himself. Determined was certainly one word for Sora. Stubborn might be another.

“Thank you, Zalaya.”

As he walked the winding corridors toward the library, Ignis tried to gather his scattered thoughts. This pull toward Sora was more than attraction, more than curiosity. It was as if some ancient part of his draconic nature had recognized something in her that his conscious mind was still struggling to understand.

Belongs.

The word resonated through Ignis’s core, affirming what he’d known since first catching her scent at the Selection Ball.

He stormed through the main corridors, offering sharp nods to each clan member he passed, his pace quickening as he descended toward the mountain’s heart.

The Sacred Library’s entrance loomed ahead. Two dragons—a golden and a silver joined together in the middle—made its enormous archway carved with spiraling draconic script alongside them.

Ignis paused at the threshold, the sight before him stealing his breath.

Sora sat cross-legged on a cushion before the central pool, surrounded by open books and unfurled scrolls. The room’s ethereal light caught in her golden hair, illuminating the faint silver scales now permanently visible along her collarbone and arms. Her fingers traced ancient text with reverent precision, lips moving silently as she absorbed knowledge that should have been incomprehensible to someone raised in another world.

The smile that curved her mouth—genuine, unguarded joy—transformed her entirely from the wary woman who had arrived in his mountain. She looked... at peace. At home. The realization settled in his chest with satisfying weight.

Beside her, Zalaya organized artifacts with careful grace, occasionally pointing to passages that prompted animated discussion. The harpy’s wings rustled as she sensed his presence, jade eyes lifting to meet his gaze.

“My king,” she greeted, bowing her head with practiced deference that couldn’t quite hide her knowing smile. “All is well?”

Sora gasped, scrambling to her feet amid the scattered texts. “Ignis! I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—” Her gaze darted to the large, jeweled timekeeper that completely covered the wall, its hands were two dragons in a mating dance, their heads and tails pointing to the correct time. “Have you been waiting long? I didn’t realize how late it was.”

The frantic concern in her voice, so unlike the defiance she had shown his council, stirred something protective within him. “I’ve only just arrived,” he assured her, moving into the library’s glow. “Your enjoyment of our histories pleases me.”

Relief softened her features, her cheeks darkening as she tucked her long golden hair behind her ear while she glanced ruefully at the chaos around her. “I should have been more mindful of the time.”

“Getting lost in the archives isn’t a failure—it’s a sign you’re asking the right questions,” he countered, approaching to examine the texts she had selected. Ancient mating rituals, elemental magic theory, territorial treaties from the First Age—her selections spoke not just to academic interest, but to a deeper, more personal quest for understanding. “The pursuit of knowledge here is meant to be lived, not managed by a clock. You’re welcome in these halls whenever you desire.”

His gaze caught on an open tome near the edge of the table—the portrait of Queen Vaelora, the slain omega whose death had ignited generations of war. The striking resemblance between the ancient queen and Sora didn’t escape him, but he masked it with practiced ease.

“You’ve found fascinating subjects,” he observed instead, crouching beside her cushion to better view the collection.

Excitement brightened her eyes. “The metalworking techniques alone would revolutionize Earth’s understanding of medieval craftsmanship. And the communal hatching rituals! The way multiple dragons contribute magic to strengthen eggs in the communal hatching grounds and as a clan, making sure the fledglings reach adulthood—it’s a stunning example of evolutionary adaptation.”

“Fertilized eggs are laid in the central moon pool, surrounded by the hatching grounds,” Zalaya explained, pointing at the rough map of the caverns pinned on the nearby wall. “After every heat, the joyous brood will deposit them in a ritual, entrusting them to the clan to raise them into maturity.”

“But why?” Sora’s voice cracked, as she searched them for answers. “Do broods… not have attachment?”

Ignis stilled. The air shifted—heavy, breathless.

Pain speared through him.

Not a wound. A memory. A thousand of them. Ten thousands.

The shrieking silence of hollow and nearly abandoned caverns. The cold stillness of dining chambers no longer needed.

No songs. No fire.

Gone.

His kin. His friends.

The fledglings he’d flown with, laughed with, mourned for. Each loss layered itself over the next like scar scales forming over a repeatedly opened wound, until he could no longer tell one from another.

Only the weight remained. An ache sliced through his heart, his soul, and carved into his bone.

“They did, once. We all did,” he said. His voice, smoke-thick. “Attachment. Love. Hope.”

Zalaya didn’t interrupt, as she stepped closer, watching him with that timeless stillness that she understood. She’d experienced a fate worse than his—witnessing herself becoming the lone survivor of her clan.

“We… adapted,” Ignis explained, his voice thick. “It’s difficult to have a brood raise their own when they may not live long enough to see the fledglings reach maturity.” The words came slower now, as if pulling centuries of buried memories to the surface—fragments long locked away, finally stirring after all these years. “The deaths have slowed. Our numbers have stabilized. But it came at a cost.”

Sora covered her mouth, slowly shaking her head, her sapphire eyes wide with shock as she listened with unwavering focus.

“My council and I chose that we must raise the fledglings together. As a clan. All of us. Shared responsibility. Shared loss. It’s strengthened us.” He forced in a breath. “It’s not easy, but we’ve had slow growth. Steady is something we’ve learned to value.”

Sora’s hand lifted, wiped the corner of her eye. The glowstones caught on her lashes, and something in his chest pulled tight.

Dragons didn’t cry, but he’d seen enough of the emotion from their neighbors—the elves, fae, and wulfkin.

“It’s heartbreaking,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You’ve all had to carry so much. And for you to need to lead your clan through all of that...”

Then she stepped into him.

Ignis stilled, unsure what she was doing.

She pressed herself to his chest, arms awkwardly wrapping around him. Too short to encircle even half of him. Her head tilted, resting where his heart beat slow and deep behind dragonhide and muscle.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do yet,” she murmured, voice muffled against him. “But I’ll help. However I can. You’re a strong leader, Ignis. And no species—none—should ever suffer like yours and Zalaya’s clan has. All because the Celestorians were jealous of the monsters on Artania and wanted power they didn’t have. Power they tried to take from omegas. From their neighbors.”

His gaze flicked to Zalaya, silently asking— what is this?

The harpy merely gave him a quiet look that might’ve been amusement… or approval. A slight smile crossing her face, as her tail feathers perked some.

His arms moved before he thought about it.

Carefully, he wrapped them around her, hoping returning the gesture was something he was supposed to do. Wings followed. Ruby and obsidian folding around her slight frame, shielding her from the world.

She smelled of moonflowers and cinnamon—of home.

Warm. Alive. Unthawing the coldness that he’d surrounded himself with, to protect his heart—his soul.

She didn’t pull away.

And oddly enough, he didn’t want her to.

He liked the way she fit there. Not perfectly—for even in his half-form, she was dwarfed by him—but in a way that felt right .

And he wanted more of it.

More of her .

“What else have you discovered?” he asked, softly, wanting to change the subject to something lighter, as he opened his wings, folding them behind him once more. “Anything you need help with an explanation?”

Zalaya discreetly gathered several scrolls. “I’ll organize these for later study,” she murmured, retreating to give them privacy.

“Thank you.”

Sora pulled her face away, shyly glancing up at him as she gestured toward the table full of tomes. “The honor codes emphasize loyalty and obedience—so different from Celestoria’s rigid hierarchy. I’m in awe that you have other alphas within your clan, unrelated but still following you.” She leaned over and traced her finger over a diagram displaying energy pathways—the invisible channels through which life force, magic, or vital energy flows throughout the body. “And your methods of channeling dragon fire for healing rather than just destruction!”

“These practices sustained us through centuries of isolation,” Ignis explained. It pleased him to watch her absorb each detail with scholar’s precision—causing him to wonder what her life had been like in her other life to have such a thirst for knowledge. “When humans turned against us, we turned inward—preserving what might otherwise have been lost.”

Her expression sobered. “Like Queen Vaelora.”

His gaze returned to the portrait, centuries-old grief stirring beneath his scales. “Like Queen Vaelora,” he agreed softly.

“You knew her,” Sora asked, studying his face in awe.

“She was our greatest hope for peace,” he admitted, memories of her surfacing from carefully constructed mental barriers now weakened by her questions. “My father’s cousin, mated to the human king’s uncle. Their union was meant to heal wounds between our species.”

“What happened?”

Ignis closed his eyes briefly, the pain still raw despite intervening decades. “King Aldric feared the power of dragon-blooded royalty. During peace negotiations, he presented poisoned wine—a ceremonial toast that concealed betrayal. While our delegation convulsed from dragon-bane, his soldiers struck, slaughtering diplomats who had come unarmed.”

Horror filled Sora’s eyes. “That’s monstrous.”

“It was calculated,” Ignis corrected grimly. “With Vaelora dead, he began systematically eliminating omega bloodlines—human, dragon, and any species within reach—that could threaten his line’s supremacy. Humans’ fear of our kind became a convenient tool to consolidate power.”

Understanding dawned in her expression. “That’s why omegas are persecuted, why Princess Jewels is so determined to capture me. I represent everything they’ve tried to eliminate.”

“You represent truth, and our blessed future,” he countered, his voice deepening with certainty. “The living embodiment of what they’ve denied for generations—that humans and dragons are strongest together, not divided. Their greed for power ruined the once sacred bond that we shared... all because they wanted what we—and all other species of the land—have. Magic, power, strength... things that we once shared with our life partners—fully and willingly—was no longer good enough. The humans took what they believed they deserved... what they should’ve been gifted by the Moon Goddess.”

She fell silent, contemplating the portrait with renewed intensity. The resemblance between them seemed to sharpen with each passing moment—Vaelora’s silver scales matching the pattern emerging on Sora’s skin, the determined set of their jaws, the questioning intelligence in their eyes.

“Does it frighten you?” Ignis asked quietly. “The connection to our prophecies?”

“I don’t know what frightens me more,” she admitted with unexpected candor, “that the prophecies might be true, or that I’m beginning to believe they are.”

The vulnerability in her confession stirred something beyond possessiveness in his chest. He pushed them away, knowing now wasn’t the time to allow his draconic urges to run wild, and he extended his hand. “Come. You need nourishment after such intensive study.”

She hesitated only briefly, her smile bright—but a flicker of pain still lingered in her eyes. Then she placed her hand in his, her soft skin warm against his scales. Standing, he guided her from the archives deep within the heart of the library, nodding respectfully to Zalaya as they passed.

“She was exceptionally receptive to ancient knowledge,” the harpy observed with quiet satisfaction. “The draconic texts spoke to her as if she were clan-born.”

“I could read them,” Sora explained, wonder still coloring her voice. “Without training, without study—the words just... made sense.”

“Knowledge lives in blood,” Ignis reminded her, leading her through corridors that gradually widened as they ascended toward the living quarters. “Your dragon heritage awakens with each passing moment... I meant it when I said that you’re free to return to our sacred library whenever you want, to find any answers you seek.”

“Really?” She peered up at him, excitement filling her sapphire eyes. “I really can?”

“What’s mine is yours.”

The dining hall awaited them, a private meal prepared on the balcony overlooking the central cavern. Below, clan members went about their duties—artisans crafting metalwork infused with magic, warriors training in half-forms, scholars teaching a small class of fledglings.

“It’s beautiful,” Sora observed, watching his people in awe. “How they work together.”

“Dragons understand the value of community,” Ignis explained, seating her at the table where platters of food awaited. “Individual strength multiplies when a clan moves as one. Scholars share knowledge, healers mend wounds, warriors defend... Alphas lead, omegas bring clarity, deltas teach and cure, and betas keep the foundation strong.”

As they ate, he found himself watching her with growing fascination. The elegant precision with which she handled unfamiliar foods, the insightful questions she asked about clan activities below, the way light from the glowstones caught the emerging scales along her temples—each detail further cementing her place in his world.

“Your council will be waiting,” she noted eventually, setting aside her goblet. “I shouldn’t keep you from your duties.”

“You are my duty,” he responded simply. “And my greatest privilege.”

Color rose in her cheeks, the scent of cinnamon and moonflower intensifying. “I’m still not comfortable with this... designation. This role you’ve assigned me.”

“I’ve assigned nothing,” Ignis countered gently. “The stars wrote your path long before either of us drew breath.”

Her eyes flashed with familiar defiance. “I don’t accept that my choices are predetermined. It’s foolish to follow whatever your prophecies state blindly.”

“Nor should you,” he agreed, surprising her. “Destiny opens doors—it does not force you through them. The choice to embrace or reject what fate offers remains entirely yours.”

The tension in her shoulders eased slightly. “Then you acknowledge I might choose differently?”

“I acknowledge your will is your own,” he said, leaning forward, wings shifting with his movement. “Though I admit hoping your choice might eventually align with prophecy... and me. You did offer to help me, after all.”

“You’re right, I did.” A smile tugged at her lips despite her obvious effort to maintain seriousness. “But you seem very confident in our future.”

“I’ve waited over a century for you,” he replied, truth resonating through every word. “I can be patient a while longer.”

Their gazes held across the table, something unspoken passing between them—challenge and invitation, wariness and longing. The pull between them had only strengthened since her arrival, yet Ignis maintained the careful distance he had promised. Her acceptance would mean nothing if coerced by instinct alone.

The moment shattered as Ember appeared at the entrance, her expression tight with urgency. “My king, scouts report movement at the western border. The humans have begun testing our defenses.”

Duty reasserted itself instantly. Ignis rose, scales darkening with focused intent. “Gather the council. We must coordinate our response.”

Sora stood as well, determination evident in her stance. “I want to attend.”

Ember’s eyes widened slightly, but Ignis merely nodded. “Your perspective would be valuable. Particularly your knowledge of human military formations.”

The strategic chamber hummed with tense energy when they arrived, council members clustered around the three-dimensional map of their territory created from crystal and living stone. A recent new addition, in which they had to carve into the mountain to make room, gifted to them from the elf kingdom, Cythralis, their neighbors to the north, more isolated than them.

Blaze manipulated glowing markers representing troop movements, his copper scales reflecting crimson patterns across the table’s surface.

“The humans advance in three divisions,” he reported, indicating the western valleys. “Light cavalry scouts with heavier infantry following. Standard Celestorian formation, but their weapons...” He faltered, concern evident in his expression.

“Some are omega essence infused,” Asher finished grimly, setting a recovered arrow on the table. Its tip gleamed with unnatural opalescence. “Designed specifically to penetrate dragon scales.”

A low growl rumbled through the assembled dragons. Ignis studied the map with narrowed eyes, decades of tactical experience assessing possibilities with cold precision. “Their approach is too obvious. This is meant to draw our attention while their true strike comes elsewhere.”

“The southern caves,” Sora suggested suddenly, stepping forward to indicate a network of tunnels on the map. “If I were planning an infiltration, I’d use them as cover for a smaller force.”

The council turned to her with varying expressions of surprise and skepticism. Cinderfell’s ancient eyes narrowed. “Based on what tactical experience, Luna?”

Rather than withering under the elder’s doubt, Sora straightened. “I specialized in medieval warfare strategies at Earth’s leading university,” she explained, her voice taking on the confident tone of an experienced lecturer. “I believe the basic principles are consistent across both worlds—advert attention, divide forces, create vulnerability, exploit weakness.”

To demonstrate, she moved markers across the map with precise confidence. “Queen Marcille’s approach mirrors Isabella of Castile’s flanking techniques. Create visible threat to the east, while the true objective moves undetected from the south.”

Her movements caught Ember’s attention. “The prisoner mentioned collection equipment at the southern caves used for harvesting Omega essence.”

“A diversion within a diversion,” Ignis realized, respect deepening for Sora’s insight. “They’re torturing omegas while distracting us with conventional military movements.”

Asher nodded, his finger tracing the southern approach. “The royal alchemist would need access to the caves’ natural magic for the extraction process to work properly. They’re not trying to breach your mountain—they’re harvesting power from its periphery.”

“We should strike immediately,” Blaze urged, wings flaring with battle readiness. “Crush their forces before they establish positions.”

“And play directly into their expectations,” Ignis countered, circling the table to stand beside Sora. “No. We’ll respond differently. Ember, take your elite guard to the southern caves—silence, not spectacle. Capture their alchemist if possible.”

The scarred warrior nodded, already mentally selecting her team.

“Blaze, maintain defensive positions along the western border, but do not engage directly,” Ignis continued, his strategy forming with a new clarity, thanks to his Luna’s insight. “Let them believe their diversion succeeds.”

“And the prisoners?” Enixa inquired. “What should we do with any we catch?”

“Keep them secured but treated well,” Ignis ordered. “Until we verify their claims, they remain potentially valuable sources of information.”

As the council dispersed to implement his commands, Sora remained beside the map, studying the terrain with great focus, one equivalent to his own elder historians. “They’ll have contingency plans,” she murmured. “Multiple layers of deception.”

“As do we,” Ignis assured her, impressed by her strategic thinking. “We’ll be prepared, thanks to you. Your insight proved invaluable.”

She looked up, surprise evident in her expression. “You actually listened to my suggestion. Without questioning it, why?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he countered. “Knowledge transcends origin. Your understanding of human tactics gives you perspective my warriors lack.”

“But they are still not of this world.” Her fingers traced the mountain’s representation in the map. “In Celestoria, no noble would heed a servant’s advice, let alone allow them voice in council.”

“I am not a human noble,” Ignis reminded her, moving closer, daring to wrap a wing around her—hovering. “And you are not a servant.”

The luminous shard caught the silver scales along her cheekbone, highlighting their delicate pattern. Without thinking, he raised his hand, taloned finger carefully tracing their outline. Her breath hitched as she stilled at his touch but didn’t withdraw, her pulse quickening visibly beneath her skin.

“What am I then?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“My equal,” he answered simply. “Different in nature, complementary in purpose.”

Her eyes searched his, skepticism warring with longing. “Alphas don’t view omegas as equals. That’s not how this world works.”

“It’s how I work,” Ignis corrected, dropping his hand with reluctance. “Dragons understood balance long before humans perverted it to hierarchy.”

Around them, the strategic chamber was empty, as they stood alone amid the glowing maps and tactical markers.

“You confuse me,” she admitted, arms wrapping around herself in unconscious protection. “Everything I’ve learned about alphas and omegas suggests you should be dominating, controlling—especially with your mate.”

“I am not claiming you are my mate,” he said carefully, though the words scored his throat like shards of glass. “ That choice remains yours alone.”

“But you want to,” she pressed, taking a step closer, her delicious scent wrapping around him like a serpent trapping its prey. “I can sense it—the restraint you maintain, the control you exercise. Your alpha instincts must be screaming to claim what you believe is yours—to take me as yours.”

Her insight struck uncomfortably close to the truth. “Every instinct in me roars, demanding I possess you,” he admitted, maintaining careful distance despite the effort it cost. “But a true king protects rather than controls what he values. I’ve watched alphas destroy what they claimed to treasure. I won’t become that.”

Something shifted in her expression—wariness giving way to cautious respect. “Humans could learn from dragon philosophy.”

“Your greatest gift to me would be willingly asking for my claim,” he admitted, wings folding tighter against his back. “Without it, I would be the same as your kind, taking what wasn’t theirs. No, I require your full acceptance—nothing less.”

Silence settled between them as Sora traced the edges of the map. “How would I know if... or when I’m ready?” She bit her lip, gaze dropping to the table. “For your claim... to be yours.”

“You’ll know with every fiber of your being.” Ignis pressed a fist between his twin hearts. “Calling out to me, begging me to make you mine... and for me to become yours.”

Sora glanced over her shoulder, sapphire eyes studying him. “Would we be like the uncorrupt kingdoms—their dragon and rider bonds?”

Ignis shook his head. “No, much more intimate than that... but once our skies are safe again, you can ride me whenever you want, if you wish it.”

“Oh...” Her cheeks darkened.

“We should return to our chambers,” Ignis suggested, not wanting to keep her from getting her much needed rest. “Tomorrow brings challenges that will require us at our best.”

As they walked the corridors toward their shared quarters, Sora’s scent shifted subtly—the notes of cinnamon and moonflower deepening, gaining complexity. Her transformation progressed more rapidly than he had anticipated, the dragon blood in her veins responding to proximity to its source... being surrounded by him, the clan and their home.

“You’re changing swifter than I had originally thought,” he observed, watching silver scales shimmer faintly along her forearms when they passed through moonlight from a high window. “Soon your transformation will be complete.”

She examined her skin with fascination. “The process accelerates at night. Under moonlight, I feel... more. ”

“More what?”

Her gaze lifted to his, a fragile mix of awe and uncertainty shimmering within them. “More everything. Senses sharper, emotions deeper, connection stronger.”

“Connection?” he echoed, hope stirring beneath his careful control.

She hesitated at their chamber entrance, fingers resting against the crystal-veined door. “To this place. To your clan. To...”

To you. The unspoken words hung between them, neither acknowledged nor denied.

“Rest,” he advised gently, opening the gold plated door for her. “Your body undergoes profound transformation. Sleep will help integrate the changes.”

Inside their shared space, the glowstones dimmed in response to their presence, creating an atmosphere of intimate seclusion. Sora moved to her sleeping platform, fingers trailing across silken fabrics with evident appreciation.

“Thank you,” she said suddenly, turning to face him. “For having Zalaya show me your library. For listening to my strategic suggestions even though I am not of this world. For...” She faltered, searching for words.

“For treating you with respect and as more than just a prophecy to be fulfilled?” he suggested.

Her smile carried genuine warmth. “Yes. Exactly that.”

As she prepared for sleep, Ignis maintained a respectful distance, settling onto his stone slab in half-form rather than shifting to his natural draconic state. The restraint cost him energy, but remaining in his weaker form seemed worth the sacrifice... at least, until she fell asleep. Then he would let go, and allow his own body some rest.

“Sleep well, Sora,” he said softly as she nestled beneath silken covers.

“And you,” she replied, her voice already drowsy with approaching slumber. “Ignis?”

“Yes?”

Her eyes found his across the dimmed chamber, moonlight filtering through prismatic apertures to paint silver patterns across her skin. “I’m glad fate brought me here, whatever the reason.”

The admission, small though it was, sent warmth spreading through his chest that had nothing to do with dragon fire. “As am I.”