Page 34

Omvar

I prowled the city’s paths, wings tucked tight, senses razor-sharp.

Suspicion clung to me. Every glance was a dagger, expecting violence, despising my presence.

This place was nothing like Ignarath, but there were echoes in the distrust. They call me friend , but I hear the hiss behind it.

Outlander. Unworthy. I’d never be one of them.

But I wasn’t there for their trust.

I’d lied when I told Zarvash why I was helping him.

I was on the hunt.

The river carved through the city, cold and relentless. Its chill soaked into the black stone despite the natural heat of the caves. Scalvaris hunched over that current: bridges, ramparts, walls pressed tight to squeeze out anything that didn’t belong. Anything like me.

Younglings cackled where the water fanned out, their scales soft, wings flapping. They were unscarred, foolish enough to think play kept the monsters away. I watched from the shadows. My tail twitched.

One child stilled, bright green eyes locking on me. He ducked behind a bigger girl—red-scaled, sharp-chinned. Smart. Survival meant knowing where and when to hide.

A cold draft stirred the river, its glow shifting like fireflies. Brief, savage beauty. I could almost be seduced into staying there all day.

Her scent found me first—sweet, alien, cut with copper and fear. Human. Not just any.

Her .

I’d trailed echoes of her through twisting alleys, always a step behind. More than once, I thought I found her only to turn up empty. But that scent anchored me. Warm skin, sweet, impossible softness.

My fangs itched. Hunger, hot and unwelcome.

Then I saw her. Across the bank, haloed in the river’s glow. Small, vulnerable, but her stance was tight. Hair shorn short, arms moving with careful deliberation. A human at ease is a lie.

This one never stopped watching for trouble.

I drank her in. A mistake. Every line, her shadow, the tension under her skin, set my scales twitching. I remembered her scent on desert wind, remembered sand baking it into my bones. I’d chased that trail, let hope and fury tangle me.

Now, seeing her alive, the old need flared.

She crouched at the water’s edge, hands busy with a woven satchel, sunlight catching on her arm. She moved like someone who expected the world to collapse. Every motion carved by hardship. I tasted guilt and hunger, burning together.

And then another voice cut through.

“Reika, let's go.”

Another human: taller, golden-skinned, jagged with vigilance. I didn't know her name. Eyes sweeping, never lingering.

Reika's head snapped up, and she saw me. Her eyes widened a fraction before she turned towards the other human and nodded, saying something I couldn't hear.

The taller woman murmured, “Come on, we have to go.”

They moved past the Drakarn children, who splashed aside. Reika glanced back, only for a second, and not looking at me then let herself be drawn to where more humans huddled under a carved arch. The city closed around them.

I stayed, claws curling until pain replaced need. I’d crossed half a continent, risked everything, trailing her scent like a curse. And I got only her back, her silence.

But the hunt wasn't over.

She was alive. That knowledge settled, a dark comfort, hissing under my skin, fueling the ache that never quite settled.

She was alive.