Page 22 of Beneath Scales and Shadows
“The prophecy speaks of a group of twice-born omegas—Lunas—who carry knowledge from beyond our world, fallen from the Blue Moon,” the elderly advisor explained. “Marked by the Moon Goddess, shimmering beneath her light, they’re destined to unite the fractured realms of Artania and restore the balance destroyed when humans betrayed not only our dragonkind—but the others as well.”
“It foretells the return of magic to all species,” Asher continued, his healer’s gaze assessing her with professional interest. “Beginning with the awakening of a dragon-blooded omega who would become the mate to the last pure-form dragon king.”
Heat crept up Sora’s neck. “That’s very specific.”
“Most prophecies often are,” Ignis replied, his voice neutral despite the intensity in his eyes. “Which was why we were searching for you all this time… I was searching for my queen to rule by my side.”
“I don’t want to be anyone’s prophecy,” she insisted, crossing her arms. “I was a historian—a researcher.” She frowned, gripping her elbow as she waved a hand aimlessly in the air. “Not some mystical chosen one.”
“It’s normal to want to resist your destiny initially, especially since you aren’t originally from Artania. Everything is new to you.” Cinderfell let out a long measured sigh. “But your reluctance changes nothing.”
Before Sora could argue further, a commotion outside drew their attention. Zalaya entered, her wings slightly extended in agitation.
“My king,” the harpy announced, bowing quickly. “The royal alchemist was spotted at the southern caves. With collection equipment.”
A low growl rumbled through Ignis’s chest. “Omega essence.”
The air in the chamber grew heavy, a chilling contrast to the heat radiating from the dragon king. Sora looked between their grim faces, confusion evident in her expression.
“What’s omega essence?” she asked.
Asher’s face hardened, a stark contrast to the kindness that usually defined the gentle healer. “A perversion of ancient magic. Humans discovered they could extract the magical essence from omega bodies—particularly those with non-human ancestry. The process leaves the victims hollow shells, neither truly alive nor dead.”
Horror washed over Sora. “They’re harvesting people?”
“It began as a method to enhance weapons,” Ember explained, disgust evident in her tone. “Now they use it to sustain failing human magic—a temporary solution that requires constant fresh supply.”
“My sister,” Asher added quietly, “was taken during a failed peace negotiation a decade ago. When we found her, she was empty—eyes vacant, scales missing, body breathing but soul gone.”
The implications turned Sora’s stomach. If she’d been discovered at the castle, this would have been her fate.
“We need to stop them,” she said, surprising herself with the vehemence in her voice.
Ignis’s gaze sharpened with approval. “We will. But first, you must understand what you’re becoming.” He turned to Zalaya. “Take her to the sacred library. Show her our history—and hers.”
The harpy nodded, feathers rustling with the movement. “It would be my honor.”
As the council continued discussing defensive strategies, Zalaya guided Sora through corridors that delved deeper into the mountain. Unlike the main caverns with their bustling activity, these passages grew increasingly quiet, their light dimming to a reverent glow.
“Few clan members venture this deep,” Zalaya explained, her taloned feet clicking softly against the stone floor. “These chambers hold memories too painful for many to revisit.”
They emerged into a vast circular space that stole Sora’s breath. Shelves carved directly into the living stone rose from floor to ceiling, interspersed with crystalline growths that illuminated countless books, scrolls, and artifacts. At the chamber’s center, a pool of still water reflected the domed ceiling, where a mosaic of precious stones depicted dragons soaring alongside other creatures—elves with their delicate features, massive wolves running beneath the moons, winged beings that might have been Ignis’s or Zalaya’s ancestors.
“The Sacred Library of Dralux,” Zalaya announced, her voice softening with reverence. “Every text salvaged from the purge resides here, along with histories dating back to the first dragons.”
Sora approached the nearest shelf with historian’s reverence, fingers hovering above leather-bound volumes whose spines bore unfamiliar script. “This is incredible.”
“Knowledge is sacred to the dragonkind,” Zalaya said, watching as Sora’s eyes devoured the shelves. “They were scholars before we were warriors.”
For the first time since awakening in this world, Sora felt a flutter of genuine excitement. This was familiar territory—research, discovery, cataloging information. She moved along the shelves, a smile spreading across her face.
“Where should I start?”
Zalaya considered for a moment. “Perhaps with how our world operates.” She selected a volume bound in midnight blue leather. “The social hierarchy affects all species in Artania, though its expression varies.”
Over the next several hours, Sora lost herself in discovery. With Zalaya as her guide, she explored volumes explaining the complex interplay between alphas, betas, omegas, and deltas. She learned of communal hatching rituals where dragons combined their magic to strengthen eggs, ensuring the next generation’s survival despite diminished numbers. Ancient honor codes emphasized truth and responsibility above blind obedience—a stark contrast to Celestoria’s rigid hierarchy.
“Dragons believe power exists to protect, not control,” Zalaya explained, her jade eyes warm with approval as Sora absorbed each new concept. “When an alpha claims their rightful omega, the bond strengthens both—neither diminished by the connection.”
