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KHORLAR

The air thickened with betrayal. It coiled in my gut, hot and corrosive as the lava rivers that cut through Volcaryth. Rage wasn't a strong enough word. This was immolation, a scorching away of everything but the raw, primal wound of seeing her stand there.

My mate.

She was poised for escape in the claustrophobic confines of the tunnel. Weapons barely concealed beneath the harness—my harness, the one I’d fitted to the curve of her waist, the slope of her shoulders. The scent of her, usually a balm to my senses, was now laced with the sharp tang of defiance, of fear, and something else … determination. It scraped against my insides. Beside her, the other human female, Vega, vibrated with a nervous energy that set my teeth on edge, her eyes glittering like shards of ice.

"You will not pass," I repeated. The words were stone, each syllable chipped from the mountain of fury building inside me. The calm in my voice was a thin crust over magma. "Not alone. Not like this."

Vega’s hand spasmed on her blade hilt. It was a pathetic gesture. A piece of sharpened metal against a warrior born of fire and stone? Against me? Nothing stood between me and my mate.

"You don't command us," Vega spat, taking a half-step forward, bristling like a cornered ground-rat. "Kira is out there?—"

"I don't give a molten damn about Kira!" The control snapped. My voice ripped through the confined space. My wings flared, the tips scraping stone, sending showers of grit raining down. The movement was pure territorial aggression. "My concern is her." I jabbed a clawed finger toward Hawk. "My mate. Who apparently thinks nothing of shattering our bond, of walking into the jaws of the Ignarath for a reckless chase!"

Hawk flinched, but her shoulders squared under the harness. That damned harness.

"That's enough," she snapped. She moved then, stepping fluidly between me and Vega. She was always the shield. Even now, when I felt like the one being attacked. "This isn't about us. Kira is missing. Ignarath territory is the most likely place. We have to look."

"And your plan?" The word dripped contempt. "Sneak out like rock-worms tunneling in the dark? Offer yourselves up on Ignarath blades?"

"Vega was going to scout," she insisted, but her gaze slid away for a fraction of a second. Was she lying? If she didn't intend to leave, why was she down here with Vega?

"Scout," I echoed, the sound a low growl rumbling from my chest. "Into their hunting grounds. After one of them nearly gutted you. After everything I told you about the dangers."

Vega made a noise of pure frustration. "There's no time! While you two posture?—"

"Vega." Hawk’s command was quiet but absolute, cutting off the other human. She didn’t look away from me. "Give us a moment."

Vega bristled, clearly wanting to argue, but Hawk’s stillness held her. With a final glare poisoned with dislike, she retreated around the bend, out of sight but not, I knew, out of earshot.

Silence descended, heavy and charged. It pulsed between us, thick with unspoken wounds, with anger that felt dangerously close to grief. The stone walls seemed to press closer, amplifying the frantic beat of my own heart against my ribs.

Then, she moved. She did not retreat. She moved toward me.

Two strides. That’s all it took to close the space until mere inches separated us. I could feel the warmth radiating from her skin, smell the unique blend of human and the faint metallic tang of the Scalvaris air clinging to her clothes. That scent … gods, it still undid me.

"I wasn't leaving you," she said, her voice a low vibration, pitched just for me, barely audible above the hum of the geothermal currents below. The words slammed into me, cracking the icy shell of my fury. "I wouldn't. Not like that."

My throat felt constricted, tight as a closing fist. "How can I believe that?" The worders were rough, torn from me.

"Because you know me," she said, her gaze holding mine, fierce and unwavering. "I was going to come find you as soon as I was sure Vega left safely. I wanted to find you before. But I'm being torn in two. I can't leave my people behind, Khorlar. Any more than you could leave yours."

The truth of it stung, a bitter venom. Her loyalty. It was one of the first things that had drawn me, that core of unyielding strength. But seeing it turned away from me, even for a noble cause … it felt like betrayal all the same.

"We do this properly," I snarled, the sound softening despite myself, the anger warring with a desperate need to keep her close, safe. "Together. With warriors. With a plan. Not … this." I waved a hand, dismissing her ill-conceived mission. "This is suicide."

"Speed is crucial," she pressed, sensing the shift in me. "We need search teams. If Kira left—and I think she did, looking for her sister—she'd use the eastern tunnels. They're less watched."

"And if Ignarath took her?" The thought was a knife to the gut. Not for the missing human herself, but for the implications. Escalation. War. And Hawk … Hawk right in the middle of it.

"Then finding her fast is even more critical," she replied, her expression hardening. "We move now, Khorlar. Please."

I looked down at her, this impossible female. She was fragile and fierce, human and yet … mine. She had shattered my world, rearranged my priorities, burrowed under my scales in a way nothing else ever had.

"Together," I repeated, the word a vow, a command. "You stay within my sight. Always."

Relief washed over her face, softening the tense lines around her eyes. "Yes."

I turned, folding my wings tight to navigate the passage. The lingering scent of her fear and determination clung to the air. "Call your friend," I ordered, my voice regaining its edge. "We gather the warriors."

* * *

The muster was a controlled storm of movement and low commands. Darrokar orchestrated the deployment with chilling efficiency. Two teams. Vyne and Selene would lead the search within Scalvaris's labyrinthine lower levels. Zarvash, Ryvik, myself, Hawk, and Vega would take the skies beyond the eastern border with a contingent of young warriors.

"The Ignarath will view this as aggression," Darrokar warned, his voice a low rumble beneath the clang of weapons checks. His obsidian eyes flicked from me to Hawk, standing resolute at my side, strapped into the flight harness. "Exercise caution. Stick to the objective."

I gave a curt nod. "Find the human. Return. Nothing else."

"See that you do, Stone Fist." His gaze lingered on Hawk for a heartbeat longer than necessary, a silent reminder of the precarious balance we maintained. "The Council convenes at dawn. I expect all humans accounted for."

Failure wasn't merely inconvenient; it could shatter the balance of power.

I pushed the political maneuvering aside. It was useless. My focus narrowed to the female beside me. "Ready?" I turned, my claws automatically checking the harness buckles, the tension of the straps across her body. My fingers brushed the worn leather, the brief contact sending a familiar, possessive heat through my veins, momentarily banking the fires of my earlier anger.

"Not my first flight clinging to your grumpy ass," she murmured, the words meant only for me. It was a weak jest, undermined by the worry tightening her eyes.

I growled deep. "Focus, vrakasha . We'll find your friend. Then we address … other matters."

The eastern launch plateau gaped open to the night, a wide shelf carved into the mountain, slick with volcanic glass. I secured Hawk against my chest, her back pressed firmly against me, the harness a tangible link between us. Her muscles were coiled tight, but she leaned into my strength, a silent acknowledgment of trust that eased something brittle inside me.

Zarvash stood poised nearby, Vega similarly secured with a makeshift harness. The bronze warrior’s face was a mask of grim calculation. "Eastern quadrant," he stated, his claw indicating the obsidian plains stretching towards the jagged silhouette of Ignarath territory. "Outer marker first, spiral pattern."

I nodded, scanning the darkness. "The trail is fresh. We'll find her."

Then, we leaped, our warriors flanked out behind us.

The air punched the breath from my lungs, a brutal, exhilarating shock. I felt Hawk gasp, her hands instinctively tightening on the forearm I banded across her middle. Then, as my wings caught the powerful thermal updrafts, biting into the air, her grip eased fractionally. It was not fear. It was anticipation. Even now, danger snapping at our heels, the sheer act of flight thrilled her. Stubborn female.

Beneath us, the world transformed into a nightmare landscape painted in blacks and smoldering reds by the twin setting suns. Rivers of lava pulsed like the planet’s arteries, cutting glowing paths across the dark plains. And far ahead, the Crystal Mountains loomed, radiating menace—Ignarath lands.

We flew low and fast, skimming the tortured earth, eyes scanning, senses straining. The wind brought only the taste of sulfur and cold stone, no human scent, no sign. Hope began to bleed away, replaced by a cold certainty.

Then—a flicker. Near the eastern tunnel mouth, close to the jagged edge of our territory. Movement, unnatural against the static backdrop of rock. I banked sharply, the maneuver shearing wind, feeling Hawk tense as she spotted it simultaneously.

"There," her voice was tight, strained against the rush of air. "By that spire."

My eyes narrowed, piercing the gloom. Figures huddled in the deep shadows cast by the massive rock formation. Not Ignarath; their movements lacked the predatory fluidity. And the robes … robes the color of sickly sulfur blooms. Yellow.

A cold fist clenched in my gut. Temple acolytes. Karyseth’s insidious flock.

"Zarvash," I called, the wind snatching at the name. He was already altering course, the strategist’s mind processing the scene as swiftly as mine.

We descended in a tightening spiral, landing carefully, the impact of our talons muffled by dust. I kept Hawk bound to me, my protective instincts screaming, refusing to release her into this unknown.

The scene resolved. Three humans sprawled on the black ground, limp, vulnerable. Kira. The rescued one, Reika. Another I didn't recognize, possibly the doctor Rachel. And surrounding them, six acolytes, their yellow robes unnervingly bright in the dying light. No obvious weapons, but their hands … their hands shimmered faintly with the unsettling energy of their so-called Sacred Flame. Temple magic. Disciplines I neither trusted nor understood.

"What in the hells?" Hawk breathed against my back, her body rigid.

"Let me down," she demanded, her voice low, urgent, vibrating against my scales. "Khorlar. Release the harness. Now."

"No," I growled, my grip tightening reflexively. "We assess first. This smells wrong."

"Those are my people!" she hissed, beginning to struggle, straining against the harness. "Damn it, Khorlar, let me?—"

A flicker of movement high above. On the ridge line overlooking the spire. Dark shapes detaching themselves from the rock face, wings unfolding against the blood-streaked sky. Silhouettes sharp with menace. Crimson streaks marking their wings.

Ignarath.

"A trap." The word ripped from my throat, cold dread mixing with boiling rage. I shoved Hawk behind my legs as I unlatched the harness with brutal speed. "Zarvash!"

The bronze warrior was already reacting, thrusting Vega towards us as his blade sang free of its sheath. "Six," he snapped, eyes tracking the descent. "Airborne. Coming in hot."

The acolytes looked up, their expressions shifting from grim purpose to something akin to … satisfaction? Then surprise, as they registered us. One, a female marked with silver scales, stepped forward.

"The Temple claims these trespassers," her voice rang out, surprisingly carrying over the rising wind. "By Sacred Flame and Karyseth's will."

"Like hell they do," Hawk spat, her own blade appearing in her hand. It looked tiny, inadequate in this place of monstrous power, but she wielded it like an extension of her own fierce spirit.

"Stone Fist," the acolyte continued, pointedly ignoring Hawk. "This is Temple business. Return to Scalvaris. These outsiders broke our laws."

My wings flared wide, a silent, deadly promise. "They are under my protection." The words were edged with ice.

The acolyte’s face hardened. "The Council wavers. The Temple stands firm. Stand aside or face the consequences?—"

Her words were devoured by a piercing screech that tore through the air—the unmistakable hunting cry of Ignarath warriors committing to attack. They plummeted from the ridge, six hurtling shapes of death, wings angled for a killing dive.

No more words. No more posturing.

There was only the howl of the wind and the promise of bloodshed.

"Protect them!" I roared at Hawk, shoving her towards the fallen humans. My eyes locked with Zarvash’s. "With me!"

We'd flown ahead of our warriors to scout. I had to hope they would catch up soon. There was no time to wait.

I launched upwards, a coiled spring of muscle and fury unleashed. The first Ignarath met me in a devastating collision, momentum carrying us down in a spiral of claws and snapping teeth. His talons raked my shoulder, drawing hot blood. I roared, a primal sound of challenge echoing off the spires, twisting violently, my tail smashing into his side, sending him tumbling away, disoriented.

Below, the plateau erupted. The yellow-robed cowards scattered like startled insects, scrambling back towards the tunnels that would lead to the city, abandoning the humans they’d captured. Disgust curled my lip.

Hawk and Vega moved with practiced economy, reaching the prone figures, blades flashing as they formed a defensive line, back-to-back. Zarvash landed like a thunderclap beside them and the Ignarath ground assault, his sword a blur of deadly bronze light.

Every instinct screamed at me to drop, to stand beside my mate, to shield her body with my own. But the sky held three more circling predators, waiting to pick us off. Two others engaged Zarvash, their heavier frames giving them brute force advantages.

"Khorlar!" Hawk’s voice, sharp with alarm, cut through the din. "More! East!"

A glance confirmed it. Another wave, at least four Ignarath warriors, pounding across the broken ground towards the melee. It was coordinated. Deliberate.

A slaughter planned. And we had walked right into it.

I dove, intercepting a circling warrior, slamming into him with bone-jarring force. We tumbled earthward, a chaotic knot of wings and fury. I twisted at the last second, using his bulk to cushion my impact. The crack of his spine against the stone was grimly satisfying. He didn’t move.

There was no time. The remaining two airborne attackers were on me, their movements synchronized, pressing me back. Claws scored my back, ripping through scale. Agony flared as fangs sank deep into the membrane of my left wing.

Rage surged, white-hot and absolute. I roared, spinning, my tail whipping around like a living weapon. It connected with sickening force against one warrior’s throat. He collapsed, choking, claws scrabbling at his crushed windpipe. The other lunged, driving me toward the shimmering edge of a sulfur pool, his face a mask of triumphant hatred.

"The humans die!" he snarled, spittle flying. "And the traitors who shield them!"

"Try," I growled back, feinting, then driving forward, my claws finding the vulnerable hollow beneath his jaw. Hot blood sprayed across my chest. His eyes widened, surprised, then glazed over as the light faded.

I spun, desperate, scanning the chaos. Zarvash fought like a whirlwind of bronze death, his blade weaving intricate patterns, leaving bleeding Ignarath in his wake. Vega stood guard over the fallen, her small knife darting with surprising lethality.

And Hawk?—

There. Locked in combat with an Ignarath easily twice her mass. She moved like quicksilver, impossibly fast, her human agility a startling counterpoint to his brute strength. Her blade flashed, biting deep into his exposed side. Dark blood splattered her arm.

A surge of fierce, possessive pride roared through me. My vrakasha. My warrior mate.

Then I saw it. The second attacker. He was closing on her blind side.

She sensed him, turning, but a fraction too late. His massive, rock-hard fist slammed into her ribs. The sound—a sickening crunch—echoed across the battlefield, louder than the cries and the clash of steel. It stopped my heart.

She staggered, her face twisting in a mask of agony, but somehow, impossibly, she stayed on her feet. Pivoting on pure instinct, she drove her blade upward, burying it hilt-deep in the attacker’s throat with a final, desperate surge of strength. Blood erupted, drenching her. The Ignarath gurgled, collapsing at her feet.

But she wavered, one arm clamped tight around her side. Even from yards away, I saw the unnatural bulge beneath the harness, the way her body listed.

Something inside me fractured. Shattered into a million razor-sharp pieces.

Thought ceased. Strategy vanished. There was only her.

I launched myself across the battlefield, a meteor of black scales and unrestrained fury. Two more Ignarath moved to block me. They might as well have tried to stop an avalanche. I tore through them. One shrieked as I sheared his wing off at the shoulder in a spray of gore. The other met a stone outcrop with enough force to liquefy his spine. I felt the bones give way under my grip.

I reached her just as her knees buckled. My arms swept around her, rage warring with a desperate tenderness I didn’t know I possessed. I lowered her gently, carefully, beside the still forms of her friends.

"Fine," she gasped, her face bleached white, lips bloodless save for a thin trickle leaking from one corner. "Just … winded …"

Liar. It tore at me. Through the dark fabric of her undershirt, a bruise was already blooming, deep purple even against her dark skin. Her breathing hitched, shallow and painful. Internal damage. Severe.

Cold terror, absolute and paralyzing, seized me, threatening to freeze me solid. Not a scratch. Not a bruise. This … this could kill her.

"Hold on." The growl rumbled deep inside me, raw with fear. I scooped her up, cradling her against me, agonizingly aware of her broken ribs, her fragile human frame. "Just hold on, vrakasha . Stay with me."

Zarvash materialized beside me, smeared with blood, his breathing harsh. "Go!" he commanded, his sharp eyes taking in Hawk’s pallor, the blood at her mouth. "Healing caverns. Now. We'll handle this."

No argument. No hesitation. My wings beat the air with frantic power, thrusting us skyward. I held her tight, the harness that had earlier felt like betrayal now the only thing keeping her secure against my desperate flight. Each shallow, shuddering breath she took rippled against my chest, a counterpoint to the frantic pounding of my own heart.

She was dying. My mate. Dying in my arms.

Panic clawed at me, raw and blinding, making my flight path unsteady. Faster. I needed to fly faster. My wings strained, muscles screaming, driving us through the darkening sky towards the distant glow of Scalvaris. Towards the healers. Towards hope.

"Stay with me," I commanded again, the words rough, torn from my throat. "That is an order, vrakasha . Do you hear me? Stay. With. Me."

Her eyelids fluttered. Her gaze was unfocused, clouded with pain, but she found mine. "Not … taking orders …," she rasped, a faint echo of her infuriating defiance flickering through the agony, "from you …"

A strangled sound ripped from me, caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "Stubborn … always stubborn …"

"Not … the end …," she whispered, her fingers weakly clutching the harness strap across my chest. "Not … letting you … win … that easily …"

Scalvaris loomed. I didn't slow, didn't signal. I arrowed straight towards the opening that led deep into the mountain, towards the life-giving heat of the healing caverns.

She would not die. I refused it. The bond pulsed, a desperate anchor in the storm of my fear. I would tear down the mountain stone by stone before I let her fade. She would not die.