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ZARVASH

I was going to kill her when I found her. If the damned Ignarath didn't do it first.

Vega’s scent—damn her—cut through the reek of Ignarath.

Sweat, blood, and something distinctly human , too sweet for this viper’s pit.

It pulled me, a sickeningly insistent thread, through the warren of winding streets.

Past gambling dens where Drakarn tossed knucklebones, laughter like rocks grinding against each other.

The arena district loomed. A monument to savagery, its sloping walls clawing at the bruised moonlight. Torches flickered, casting long dancing shadows. Each step closer was a risk, each breath a taste of the enemy.

My wing throbbed. A constant reminder of my frailty. Alone, wounded, deep in Ignarath territory. The outcome wouldn’t be a question; it would be a butcher’s display.

Vega slipped through a shadowed side entrance, moving like a snake herself. Silent. Deadly. She'd slipped from our room like a phantom, no word, no warning. Fury burned like acid in my gut.

Did she have any sense? Every step deeper into this nest ratcheted up the danger.

I should have seen this coming. That human …

impulsive, reckless. Exactly the kind of maddening determination that made them impossible to predict.

How many times had she done this already in Scalvaris? She should have been caged. Hobbled.

And yet …

I edged closer, hugging the shadows where torchlight couldn’t reach. The arena’s underbelly was a maze of stone and iron, designed to hold beasts and gladiators alike, before they were tossed to the screaming sands. Guards patrolled, their talons clicking on stone, tails dragging with bored malice.

Vega moved like she knew the place. Pausing at intersections, checking lines of sight. Caution … admirable, if not so bloody foolish. I tracked her movements, marking each guard, calculating trajectories. How fast could I reach her if it went to hell?

She vanished around a corner. A curse ripped from my throat, silent but savage. Moving closer was madness, but staying there … I slipped from the shadows, wings tight against my back, and followed her scent.

A voice. Not Drakarn. Human .

I didn't understand the words, but I guessed the speaker. Female. Wary. Defiant.

Understanding slammed into me. Of course. Not just blind recklessness. She was hunting her people. The guard’s words at the gate, replaying in my mind. Slaves … Humans … Arena …

I pressed against the wall, close enough to peer around the corner. The corridor opened into a wider chamber. Iron bars stretched from floor to ceiling, caging shadows. Vega stood before them, gripping the metal, her posture coiled and tense.

Three figures huddled in the darkness. Human. Marked by that alien softness. One stepped forward, tall female, hollow cheeks, cropped hair, her stance defiance carved in bone.

They spoke briefly in words I couldn't understand. But they weren't quiet, and sound carried through those damned passageways.

Four Ignarath rounded the corner with a fifth, in leather armor, leading them. An arena officer. They saw Vega instantly and spread out, cutting off escape.

“Well, well.” The officer’s voice was a dry rasp. “A stray pet, wandering where it shouldn't.”

Vega backed away from the cell, hands raised, posture primed for violence. Her eyes darted around. Calculating. Seeking a way out. Finding nothing.

“That's not … I'm not …” Her voice quivered, and it was nothing like I was used to hearing. She was playing her role, even there. Even when I could make out the outline of a knife under her tunic.

The officer laughed. Bone-chilling. “All soft-skins are pets. Or food.” A gesture to his warriors. “Take it.”

They surged forward. Too many. Too fast. Vega ducked the first, elbowing him in the gut. The Ignarath grunted, doubled over. But the others … They seized her. Grabbing her arms, twisting them behind her back.

She fought. Gods, how she fought. A wild thing caught in a trap. Twisting, kicking, a whirlwind of fury. But she was outnumbered. Overpowered. One warrior struck her. A brutal blow across the face. Her head snapped sideways. Blood welled at the corner of her mouth.

Something inside me shattered.

I stepped from the shadows. Wings flared, and in that moment, I didn't feel the pain of my broken wing, filling the corridor. Neck arched. Fangs bared. Pure dominance. Pure threat.

“Release her.” My command was harsh. Absolute.

The Ignarath froze. Their grip slackened just enough for Vega to wrench free. The officer turned, his expression sliding from surprise to contempt.

“Another trespasser.” His tongue flicked out, tasting the air. “And this one smells like the soft scales in Scalvaris. What brings you to our arena, outsider?”

I advanced, each step measured. Keeping my gaze locked on his. Dominance was as much about belief as brute strength. “That slave belongs to me.” Saying the words was bile on my tongue.

The officer’s eyes narrowed. “Strange. She wears no collar, no mark. And she roams unauthorized.”

“She wasn’t unauthorized.” A growl rumbled in my chest. “She was sent. By me.”

“Sent?” Skepticism dripped from the word. “For what purpose?”

I drew myself up, summoning arrogance like armor. “I intend to enter your tournament. The creature was gathering information. Assessing the competition, the layout, the opportunities.” A baring of teeth. “She has … unique skills. Valuable insights.”

The officer circled, his warriors holding Vega. Her eyes burned into mine. Fury, fear.

Don’t make this worse. I only hoped she could read my expression.

“You claim to be a warrior,” the officer said. “Yet you send a slave to do your work? Cowardice is not valued in our arena.”

“Tactics,” I corrected. Smooth as death. “Only a fool walks in blind.” A flick of my gaze to Vega. “She was supposed to be discreet .”

The officer stopped, close enough to smell his breath. Meat. Something rotten. “You expect me to believe this? That you, some worthless trader, would enter our games?”

So, news of our arrival hadn't gone unheard. Rumors spread even faster in Ignarath than they did back home.

“I don't care what you believe.” I met his stare, unflinching. “I swear by the Forge I sent her. And I intend to enter your tournament at first light.”

A murmur rippled through the warriors. A Forge oath. Not given lightly. Bound by honor, torture, death. Even Ignarath respected that.

Something deep inside me twinged at the lie. Once, not very long ago, I had been a strong follower of the Forge Temple and all they believed in. Those beliefs had been tested, nearly broken. But a life devoted to that creed couldn't be forgotten easily.

The officer’s scales rippled in unease. “Bold words. Perhaps to save your pet from punishment.” He gestured to Vega. “Rogue slaves are executed. Publicly. Sport before the main event.”

I stepped closer. Nose to nose. “Touch what is mine,” I growled, voice a promise of pain, “and I will rip your throat out with my teeth.”

He didn’t flinch, but his pupils contracted. Fear, quick and primal. “Big threats for an outsider.”

“Not threats,” I said. “Promises. Harm her, and vengeance will echo through your bones long after your scales turn to dust.”

He stepped back, reassessing. “Very well. I’ll hold your pet for the night. Safe in our cells.” A cold smile. “Tomorrow, when the tournament rolls are called, I expect to see your name. If not …” He glanced at Vega. The threat, clear as a blade.

“She dies before the crowd. A fitting start to the games.”

My claws flexed. The urge to tear him apart. Contained. Just barely. I kept my voice level. “I’ll be there.”

The officer nodded. “Take her to the holding cells. The secure ones.” He turned back. “Prepare, Scalvaris. Our tournament is not known for mercy.”

They dragged Vega away. Her resistance renewed. Her eyes locked on mine. A message I couldn't grasp. Fear, yes. Anger, definitely. But beneath it … trust? Hope? Or just resignation?

“Zarvash …,” she called before a hand clamped over her mouth.

The corridor emptied. Leaving me with the echo of her voice. And the officer’s final warning: Dawn. Or your pet dies screaming.

I remained motionless until their footsteps faded. Until I was sure. Only then did the mask fall. Rage bubbled. Chained but threatening to break free.

That guard would die. They would all die. For touching her. For threatening her. For daring to believe they could take what was mine.

Mine .

The word pulsed. Blood. Bones. Teeth. A truth I could no longer deny. Inconvenient. Impossible. The mate bond sang between us. Invisible, undeniable. Growing with each breath.

I paced beneath the arena’s banners. Mind racing. The tournament was a death trap. My injured wing, a crippling disadvantage. But choice was an illusion.

I had to fight. Win. Free Vega. Without getting us killed.

All while battling that bond. That maddening pull. That mine that threatened to unravel everything.

I turned back toward the inn. Steps heavy with purpose. Tomorrow would bring blood. Pain.

It would not, however, bring Vega’s death. I swore it. On everything I was.

The guard’s threat echoed. Dawn. Or your pet dies screaming.

Dawn, then. And may the gods have mercy on anyone who stood in my way.