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VAHZIRYN

I stand on the ledge of the capital’s grand terrace, peering down at the sprawling city below.

My breath curls in the chill air, carrying the tang of smoke and incense from the countless braziers that line the High Nest’s streets.

Even at this early hour, the capital throbs with life—naga of every station moving through winding avenues, the echoes of clashing scales blending with the distant hum of commerce. Yet I find no comfort here.

My reflection glimmers in a gilded pillar’s polished surface: tall, broad-shouldered, black scales rimming my forearms, midnight hair bound in gold clips.

My eyes carry faint gold flecks that reflect the sky’s gray light, but weariness etches lines around them.

I have come to the capital to beg, not as a triumphant warlord but as a supplicant who’d tear down everything for the sake of one human woman and our unborn child.

Tension coils through my tail, a sign of my roiling emotions.

The messenger from the council demanded my presence in this gilded nest weeks ago.

I stalled as long as I could—hoping to find some leverage, some trick to nullify Velna’s blackmail or the council’s scorn.

But time ran short. Rumors of my “abomination” with a human soared, feeding the council’s hunger for punishment.

Meanwhile, Velna only strengthened her hold, threatening to cast my secrets to the darkest corners of naga society.

So I arrived here last night, leaving Mira behind in my estate.

She wanted to come, to stand by my side even in the lion’s maw.

But I insisted she remain somewhere safe.

If the negotiations fail, I’ll not see her dragged into the council’s cruelty again.

The knowledge that she’s carrying our child lodges like a raw thorn in my heart, intensifying my desperation.

Perhaps I can buy her freedom with the only currency left: my territory and my titles.

A soft hiss reaches my ears. I turn to find Crick approaching, half-blood scales glinting with tension.

He insisted on accompanying me for protection, though we both know there’s little either of us can do if the council decides to enforce a verdict.

He halts a few paces away, crossing his arms in that unspoken gesture of solidarity.

“They’re ready for you,” he says, voice subdued. “Are you certain about this?”

I draw a measured breath, tail wrapping around one leg for an instant before releasing.

“I see no other path. If I surrender my domain, maybe they’ll relent and let her live in peace.

” My words taste bitter, but the alternative is unthinkable: handing Mira over to the council’s so-called justice or letting them brand our child an atrocity.

I’d burn every inch of my inheritance before letting that happen.

Crick’s eyes flicker with sympathy. “We’ll do what we must.” He hesitates, then adds quietly, “But tread carefully. They might not accept a deal so easily.”

I nod, and together we step from the terrace into the High Nest’s labyrinth of opulent corridors.

Towering arches carved with serpentine motifs frame our path, each column draped in banners proclaiming the council’s authority.

I remember these halls well—once, they were to be mine, an inheritance of ancient bloodlines.

That dream died the day I refused to slaughter a human servant, spurring my betrothed’s betrayal and my father’s wrath.

We approach a pair of massive doors wrought from iron and gold.

Two armed naga guards flank the entrance, each eyeing me with unveiled suspicion.

One raps the butt of his spear against the door, announcing our arrival.

Slowly, the doors creak open to reveal the council’s chamber—an imposing circular hall with a high dome, braziers arranged in a ring that highlights the dais at the center.

The air inside is heavy with incense, a potent mix that pricks at my nostrils.

Eleven councilors are present, each perched on a raised seat, their scales gleaming under the braziers’ flames.

Some bear elaborate robes, others prefer martial attire.

All regard me with expressions ranging from disapproval to outright hostility.

My tail flicks with muted anger. I recall how these same councilors watched my downfall years ago, how they let me slink off into exile instead of defending me.

Now, I bow my head out of necessity, acknowledging their power.

Crick remains by the door, arms crossed. He doesn’t speak, but his stance says he’s ready to challenge anyone who crosses me. The guard at my side announces my name, though it rings hollow in a chamber that already knows who I am.

One of the councilors, an older naga with silvered scales across his forearms, gestures with a clawed hand.

“Vahziryn,” he begins, voice resounding in the dome.

“You’ve come to answer for the rumors swirling about your association with humans—specifically, a certain bond that defies our laws.

We trust you won’t insult us with denials. ”

I grit my teeth, wrestling to maintain a facade of calm. “I offer no denial,” I reply, voice low. “I come to negotiate terms for her safety.”

A ripple of murmurs snakes through the dais. Another councilor—a female with deep jade scales—leans forward, eyes glittering. “You presume we’ll parley, despite the offense you’ve committed?”

My tail tenses, but I keep my tone level. “I stand here out of respect for your authority. If you push too far, I can’t guarantee compliance.” The words taste like a threat, and I see a few councilors stiffen, offended. Let them. I can’t feign total submission or they’ll smell weakness.

Silver-Scaled Councilor raises a hand, quelling the murmurs. “We are not here to wage open war—yet. But we must settle the matter of your heretical union with a human. Lady Velna has made certain claims of—how shall we phrase it—intimate transgressions. Do you refute them?”

My chest tightens. This is the moment. I think of Mira, pregnant and frightened, yet steadfast. “I do not refute,” I say, voice resonant, ignoring the council’s collective intake of breath.

“But the fault lies with me alone. Let me name my price. I’ll relinquish my entire territory—every acre—if you spare her from punishment or capture. ”

Crick stands behind me, silent. He knows I must do this.

The councilors exchange meaningful glances, relishing my desperation.

Another councilor, younger with bright copper scales, taps a claw on his seat.

“Your territory? Quite a substantial offer. And you expect we’ll simply let the human walk away unscathed? ”

I incline my head. “Yes. She poses no threat to naga. Let her live beyond our borders, free of harassment.” My stomach roils at the image of her forced into exile, but it’s better than captivity or worse.

A third councilor sneers, flicking his forked tongue. “And you? You’d remain in your estate as caretaker, or perhaps yield all authority to the next warlord the council appoints?”

I exhale, steeling myself for the final blow.

“I’ll accept exile if that is your demand,” I murmur.

The hush that follows intensifies, thick with shock.

Council exiles are seldom reversed. I recall the lonely years I spent isolated from these very halls, but I’ll endure it again for her sake.

“Take my title, my lands, if it secures her safety.”

Silver-Scaled Councilor’s slitted eyes narrow.

He confers in hushed tones with the others.

After an agonizing pause, he returns his attention to me.

“You offer your domain, your birthright, and even your freedom for a mere human.” Disdain laces his tone.

“We must consider this carefully. It’s not every day a warlord surrenders everything for a worthless warm-blood. ”

Fury flashes under my ribs, but I quell it. “She’s far from worthless,” I hiss, though I keep my posture outwardly calm. “But I’ll pay whatever price you set.” I picture Mira’s face, the quiet strength in her eyes. That memory anchors me.

The council confers again, a swirling debate that echoes in the chamber.

Eventually, Jade-Scaled Councilor addresses me, voice cool and final.

“You are prepared to relinquish all claims to your territory, cede your warlord rank, and accept indefinite exile from the High Nest. In exchange, we vow not to pursue the human as an abomination. Yes?”

My tail thrashes once in repressed agony. “That is correct.” Those words shred my heart. Even if it saves Mira, it means I can’t shield her in my estate, can’t stand by her side. She’ll carry our child alone, with me cast out. My fangs grind in frustration, but I see no alternative.

A triumphant gleam passes through several councilors’ eyes.

They begin drafting the official statement.

My shoulders sag under the weight of their condemnation.

So, this is how it ends: stripped of all I once commanded, banished from the seat of naga power, all to spare her from their savage traditions.

My only solace is that she might live free, our child spared from the council’s cruelty.

But then Copper-Scaled Councilor coughs. “There’s a complication. The city’s rumor mill suggests your human is pregnant.”

A hush slams down. My tail stiffens. So, the rumors preceded me. My heart clenches. “And if she is?” I say, voice quiet, every muscle tensing. “You already have my terms. Let us depart, unpunished.”

Jade-Scaled Councilor smirks. “A half-breed. The council must consider it more than a simple human. Such a child threatens the purity of naga blood.”