Page 16

Zahraxis

D awn breaks over the city, painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson that mirror the marks upon our chests. I stand at the window of our assigned quarters, watching as the first light touches the steel and glass towers of this strange new world. Behind me, Rachel and Finn still sleep, their bodies entwined on the massive bed, their breathing synchronized in slumber.

Three thousand years. That is how long I waited in darkness, how long I dreamed of revenge against the one who condemned me to that living death. And now, today, I will face him.

The thought sends a ripple of golden scales across my skin before I master myself once more. The power that flooded back into me during yesterday's ritual sits comfortably beneath my human form, no longer straining against my control but flowing with it. I feel whole again, my magic restored, my strength returned. Yet something has changed; the bond we forged has altered me in ways I am only beginning to understand.

I feel Rachel stirring through our connection, her consciousness brushing against mine like a gentle caress. She rises silently, padding across the room to join me at the window. Her hand slips into mine, warm and small yet somehow anchoring.

"You're worried about meeting him," she says, not a question but a statement of fact. Through our bond, she feels my turmoil as clearly as if it were her own.

"Not worried," I correct her. "Uncertain. For three millennia, my hatred for Nikhil was the flame that kept me alive in darkness. Now I am told he was but a puppet, his will not his own." I look down at her, this remarkable human who has somehow become essential to my existence in mere days. "What does one do when the object of one's vengeance is revealed to be another victim?"

She considers this, her expression thoughtful in the growing light. "You listen," she says finally. "You see him with new eyes. And then you decide."

Finn joins us, his crimson robe hanging open to reveal the mark on his chest—my mark, intertwined with Rachel's violet signature. "She's right," he says, resting one hand on my shoulder. "Nikhil has his own demons to face. But he's fought for redemption these past years. He helped destroy the true enemy."

I feel their concern flowing through our bond, their desire to ease my burden. As an empath, I have always sensed the emotions of others—a constant background noise of feelings not my own. But this is different. Their emotions flow directly into me, clear and undiluted, not like the distant echoes I typically perceive from those around me. It is as though the walls between us have dissolved, our spirits touching without barriers. Strange, but not unwelcome.

"I will listen," I concede, turning back to the window. "But three thousand years of hatred does not vanish overnight, even with the truth revealed."

Rachel squeezes my hand. "No one expects it to. Just be open to what you see today."

A knock at the door interrupts our moment. Finn moves to answer it, returning with a court messenger, who bows deeply upon seeing me.

"The queen requests your presence in the war chamber," the messenger says. "The council gathers now."

I nod, dismissing him with a gesture that feels both familiar and foreign—the casual authority I once wielded as naturally as breathing, now a half-remembered habit from another life. As the door closes, I turn to my mates.

"It seems the time for reflection has passed," I say.

Rachel glances down at her simple sleep clothes, then at our state of undress. "I only have jeans and a T-shirt. I'm not exactly prepared for a war council."

"We can fix that," Finn says with a grin. "Strip."

She raises an eyebrow, but complies, pulling her sleep shirt over her head. I feel a surge of possessive pride at the sight of our marks upon her chest, the combined sigil pulsing gently with each beat of her heart.

Finn and I exchange a glance, then simultaneously exhale—his breath crimson, mine gold. The smoke swirls around Rachel, merging into a shimmering cloud that clings to her form before solidifying. When it dissipates, she stands transformed.

The garment we've created for her is elegant, yet practical: a deep violet tunic with gold and crimson accents, fitted trousers, and soft boots. The neckline dips low enough to display our mark proudly, while subtle dragon motifs wind around the sleeves and collar.

"Oh," she breathes, examining herself. "This is beautiful."

Finn exhales another stream of crimson smoke, this time enveloping himself. It solidifies into clothing that manages to look both formal and relaxed, typical of his contradictory nature.

I follow suit, golden smoke pouring from my lips to create my own attire. I choose something that honors my past while acknowledging this new present—a high-collared jacket with subtle hieroglyphics embroidered in thread that gleams like real gold, paired with fitted trousers that allow for ease of movement.

Finn grins, tugging at Rachel's collar. "We'll work on teaching you the finer points of dragon magic after we deal with the whole 'ancient monsters trying to destroy the world' situation."

His attempt at levity draws a smile from Rachel, but I feel her anxiety through our bond—not for herself, but for me. She worries how I will react when faced with Nikhil, fears what might happen if my ancient rage overwhelms my reason.

I capture her face between my palms, pressing my forehead to hers in a gesture of intimacy that predates even my long imprisonment. "I will not dishonor what we have built," I promise her. "Whatever happens today, I will remember that I am no longer alone in my purpose."

Her relief flows through our bond, warm and bright. Finn steps closer, completing our circle, his presence steady and grounding.

"Together, then," he says, offering his arm to Rachel while I take her other side.

"Together," we agree in unison.

I open the door, and we step into the hallway. The sound of urgent voices already echoes from the direction of the war chamber. Finn's stride lengthens, and Rachel quickens her pace to match. I feel the weight of three thousand years of hatred in my chest, but also the counterbalance of this new bond.

The war chamber buzzes with activity as we enter. A massive holographic display dominates the center of the room, projecting a detailed map of Greece with glowing markers tracking movement patterns. Dragons in human form cluster around it, some tapping at the sleek tablets in their hands, others speaking urgently into smartphones. The technology is alien to me, yet I sense the subtle current of dragon magic enhancing these human inventions.

Racha stands at the head of the table, her petite form commanding attention despite the chaos. Her mate, Corey, remains at her side. They both look up as we approach, conversation halting around us as others notice our arrival.

"Zahraxis," Racha acknowledges with a nod. "Sullivan. Rachel. Thank you for joining us."

I incline my head in response, the gesture of respect coming more naturally than I expected. "My queen."

The words still feel strange on my tongue—not because I resent her authority, but because for most of my existence, I answered only to the Dragon Council. To acknowledge a single ruler of our kind, and a Green at that, would have been unthinkable in my time. Yet the world has changed, and I with it. The Dragon Council still lives, of course, but evidently only acts as advisors to the dragon race.

"We have two days," Racha says, gesturing to the holographic display. The image shifts to show Mount Olympus, surrounded by pulsing red indicators. "The Titans have given their ultimatum—either we deliver the key to Olympus, or they will curse all of dragonkind as they did the four Court dragons."

"Which we have no intention of doing," Corey adds firmly. "Giving them access to their primordial essences, their godseeds, would be suicide for everyone."

"And the gods?" I ask, studying the display with narrowed eyes. "They offer no assistance?"

A ripple of grim laughter passes through the room. A dragon I don't recognize—Asian features, with an aura that suggests significant age despite his youthful appearance—shakes his head.

"The gods have 'retired,'" he says, making air quotes with his fingers. "They've made it clear this is our problem to solve."

"Tartarus is the exception," Racha clarifies. "He and his guards will form the vanguard of our defense. He's still attempting to secure the key himself—not to give to the Titans, but to harness the power of their godseeds for our side."

Rachel studies the display intently, her expression grave as she takes in the scale of what we face.

"We'll need every advantage," Finn says, leaning over the table to examine the tactical markers.

"Indeed we will," a new voice answers from the doorway. "Which is why I've brought reinforcements."

The room goes silent. Every muscle in my body tenses as I turn toward that familiar voice—a voice I have heard in my nightmares for three millennia.

Nikhil stands in the entrance, a familiar woman with fair skin and long black hair beside him, her eyes gleaming sapphire. Belah, the pharaoh herself. My former ruler.

I should bow to her, but instead my vision narrows, golden haze creeping at the edges as rage surges through me. Scales ripple across my skin, and I feel my control slipping. Three thousand years of hatred crystallizes into this single moment, this opportunity for vengeance that I have craved for longer than most beings have lived. But my emotions can't help but cause a ripple effect throughout the room. Every dragon in attendance emits low rumbles of hostility.

"Zahraxis," Belah speaks first, her voice carrying the weight of ages. "It has been too long."

I barely hear her. My focus remains locked on Nikhil, who meets my gaze without flinching. He has changed—no longer the cold, calculating torturer who condemned me to the void. His eyes hold knowledge and sorrow in equal measure, and something else I cannot name.

"Golden One," he says, using my old title with what sounds like genuine respect. "I had hoped we would meet again under better circumstances."

A growl builds in my chest, golden flames licking at the corners of my mouth. I take a step forward, only to feel Rachel's hand on my arm and Finn's presence steady at my back. Through our bond, they send waves of calm, not restraining me but reminding me of their presence, of the promise I made.

It's enough for me to notice how much the mood in the entire room has shifted. Chagrined, I rein in my animosity, and everyone relaxes.

"Better circumstances," I repeat, my voice barely recognizable through the effort to contain my rage. "Such as me tearing out your throat for what you did to me? For what you did to my kind?"

Nikhil does not retreat. Instead he steps forward, away from Belah's protective stance. "I deserve your hatred," he says simply. "And more."

His admission catches me off-guard. I expected denial, justification, perhaps even attack—not this quiet acceptance.

"You trapped me in darkness for three thousand years," I say, each word precise despite the flames that threaten to spill from my lips. "You experimented on dragons like we were nothing more than beasts."

"Yes," Nikhil agrees, his voice steady. "I did all those things and worse. Things I remember doing, decisions I remember making, all while something else controlled my mind." He takes another step closer. "I do not ask for forgiveness, Zahraxis. I ask only that you see the truth before you decide."

Racha moves between us, her green eyes flashing with authority. "This is not the time for personal vendettas. The Titans?—"

"Will wait," Belah interrupts, surprising everyone. "This conflict has festered for millennia. It must be resolved if we are to face external threats as a unified force." She turns to me, her blue eyes softening. "Zahraxis, will you permit Nikhil to show you what truly happened? To share his memories of the final battle against the one who controlled him?"

Rachel's hand tightens on my arm, her concern flowing through our bond. Finn's presence at my back remains steady, supportive without being constraining.

"How?" I demand, still not taking my eyes off Nikhil.

"A memory merge," Nikhil explains. "I can share what happened directly. It is a very recent memory, so every detail will be crystal-clear to you."

The chamber has gone completely still, every dragon watching this confrontation with bated breath. I feel the weight of their attention, but more importantly, I feel the steady support of my mates through our bond.

"And if I find your memories false?" I ask, golden flames dancing between my teeth. "If this is some trick?"

"Then I place myself at your mercy," Nikhil says. "Though you should know only Belah's fire can end me."

"Trust me in this, if nothing else," Belah says, stepping forward. "I, who was once your pharaoh, ask this of you, Zahraxis. See the truth before you judge."

I consider this, weighing three millennia of hatred against the possibility of truth. Rachel's presence in my mind feels like a cool stream against the heat of my rage, while Finn's steadiness grounds me.

"Show me," I finally say, the flames receding from my mouth. "Show me everything."

Nikhil nods, approaching slowly. The assembled dragons draw back, forming a circle around us. Rachel and Finn move to stand at my sides, their support unwavering.

"This will be... intense," Nikhil warns, raising his hands. "Particularly for an empath of your strength."

I meet his gaze directly, this man who was once my captor, my torturer. "I have endured worse at your hands."

A flash of pain crosses his face, but he nods in acknowledgment. "That you have." He lifts his hands toward my head. "May I?"

I give a curt nod, bracing myself for whatever comes next. He cups both hands at the sides of my head, splaying his fingers to brace my jaw, thumbs beneath my chin with two fingers at my temples. Then I close my eyes, and the war chamber dissolves around me.

Darkness. Suffocating, all-consuming darkness. Not the absence of light, but something alive, malevolent, slithering through every thought. I struggle against invisible bonds, screaming orders to a body that no longer obeys. My hands—Nikhil's hands—move without my permission, performing unspeakable acts while my consciousness remains trapped, a helpless witness to atrocities committed with my own flesh.

Years blur together, decades, centuries of this half-life. A rage for vengeance against all dragon kind, a desperate need, all driven by grief so profound my bones ache with it.

Then—a spark.

A face swims through the darkness. Belah, her blue eyes wide with horror as she realizes the truth. "You're still in there," she whispers, and the darkness recoils from her voice. She holds up a hand, a drop of blood poised on a fingertip above my mouth. The darkness flees when the blood hits my tongue, but only briefly, then returns with the rage of a swarm of hornets.

The memory shifts and fragments. A song pierces the void, notes so pure they cut through the darkness like knives. The melody wraps around my consciousness, prying the shadows away, creating space to breathe, to think, to fight back. The song lingers more thoroughly than the fleeting taste of my lover's blood, keeps the darkness at bay. I can finally think for myself long enough to atone.

Then I am on a beach, tracking bloody footprints along wet sand. Dionysus walks beside me, his massive form radiating divine power. Ahead, a woman—no, not a woman, but some thing wearing flesh not her own—paces frantically, slicing her own flesh with a blade while ranting about destruction. The darkness that fled my mind is in her now, and the woman who owned the flesh the darkness inhabits fights harder against it than I ever did.

"Meri." The name escapes my lips like a curse. The being who controlled me, who imprisoned Zahraxis, who has tormented countless lives across millennia, has chosen another vessel, but one willing to die to be rid of her.

The scene accelerates. Dionysus negotiating, offering his own blood to create a new and better vessel. Gaia appearing, her presence so overwhelming it makes even the memory of it difficult to bear. The creation of a new body, Meri's spirit transferring—then immediate betrayal as she attacks with newfound power.

I feel my hand close around a ritual blade, the weight of it familiar and terrible. This is the same blade Belah once gifted me, now stained with blood and betrayal. Meri stands before me, her new form radiating malevolent power, her taunts cutting through the chaos of battle around us.

Rage. Pure, clarifying rage fills every fiber of my being as I confront the creature who stole my life, who used my body to commit countless atrocities. The blade feels alive in my hand, hungry for the blood of the one who has caused so much suffering.

"Remember this?" my voice is barely recognizable as I hold the blade before Meri's face. "You were there when it was made more than three thousand years ago."

I slice her cheek, the blade parting flesh with terrible precision. Blood wells, bright against pale skin. Another cut, deeper, down her face to her throat. Her fear is palpable now, the realization that she has finally miscalculated.

"I nearly tossed this blade through your heart earlier," I say, my voice cold with centuries of accumulated hatred. "I would have been happy if you'd died then, but this is so much better, I think—seeing you suffer under my hand, for once."

My consciousness splits then, and I'm aware for the first time that I am merely an observer of Nikhil's memory, yet he holds tight to my awareness.

"This is the best part. Feel it with me, Zahraxis," he whispers in my mind. And I obey, surrendering again to the visceral need to experience his revenge, and find closure of my own in the process.

The blade slides into her flesh with a slick, intimate sensation, the tip seeking and finding the perfect path between her ribs like a predator scenting weakness. The moment it punctures her heart, I feel a jolt of savage pleasure so intense it's almost sexual. Her blood flows hot over my hand, soaking the hilt of the dagger, running down my arm in rivulets of crimson that feel like liquid vengeance against my skin.

Her body slackens against mine, her life ebbing with each weakening heartbeat. Her head falls against my shoulder, her breath coming in ragged gasps against my neck. The last of her life pulses around the blade, and I twist it, ensuring there is no coming back from this death.

As she slumps in my arms, I feel it—the moment the shadow that has haunted us both for millennia finally dissipates. Freedom. Pure, absolute freedom.

The memory dissolves, and I am back in the war chamber, staggering backward as Nikhil's hands fall away from my temples. Rachel and Finn steady me, their touch anchoring me to the present.

"She's gone," I whisper, the truth settling into my bones. "The one who imprisoned us both... truly gone."

Nikhil nods solemnly. "By my hand, with Dionysus' sacrifice. She will never harm another dragon, another being, again." He nods at Rachel. "It was that moment when the Bloodline came into being. Rachel and those like her, and their ancestors going back three millennia, were once tainted by Meri's blood, susceptible to her mind control. When Dionysus gave his own blood to create a new body for her, his magic subsumed her own, his blood replaced hers. Every descendent of every human she tainted had their higher races blood awakened by the god's sacrifice."

I struggle to process this new reality. The hatred that sustained me for millennia doesn't simply vanish, but it shifts, redirecting toward an enemy already destroyed, a threat already eliminated.

"I saw what she did to you," I say, meeting his eyes. "How she used you as I was used."

"Different prisons," Nikhil acknowledges. "Same jailer."

Rachel's hand finds mine, her presence in our bond steady and supportive. Finn stands close, his crimson energy mingling with my gold through our marks.

I look down at Rachel, awed yet again by her very existence. If not for that day and how those moments transpired, I might not have found her. Her gaze meets mine in unspoken understanding.

"What of the others?" I ask, thinking of the dragons I had known, the ones who had suffered alongside me. "My kind, who were taken for her experiments?"

"Many were lost," Belah says, stepping forward. "But those who survived have been found, healed as much as possible. Reparations are being made to all living victims of the Ultiori."

I absorb this, another piece of a world I'm still learning to understand. "And now we face the Titans," I say, turning back to the maps. "A new enemy, a new battle."

"Together," Racha confirms, her green eyes assessing me carefully. "If you choose to stand with us."

I take a breath and nod. "I will stand with you against the Titans, but first, I would see my homeland again. Three thousand years is too long to be away from Egypt's sands."

Belah steps forward, her blue eyes bright with understanding. "The Court maintains a sanctuary near Luxor, overlooking the Temple of Karnak. It would be yours, if you wish it."

I feel Rachel's excitement pulse through our bond, matched by Finn's steady approval.

"We could go there after the battle," Rachel suggests, squeezing my hand. "Something to fight for."

"No," I say, meeting Racha's gaze. "We go now. Just for a day." I turn to Nikhil, the hatred that once consumed me now transformed into something more complex. "I need to remember what I'm fighting for before I face these Titans. I need to stand on Egyptian soil again."

Racha studies me for a long moment before nodding. "Very well. Naia can take you tonight and return you tomorrow for the war council." Her green eyes soften. "Some battles are won before they're fought, Golden One. By remembering who we are."