Page 24 of Beneath Scales and Shadows
It was a treasure trove of knowledge—about dragons in a world that shouldn’t exist.
And yet, here she was, some foretold—written in the stars themselves—Luna that’s supposed to save Artania from her own kind? Exactly how was she supposed to do that?
Eventually, they reached a section containing personal accounts from the time before the purge. Here, Sora discovered records of dragon riders—humans who formed deep bonds with their winged partners, creating a symbiotic relationship that enhanced both beings’ natural abilities.
“This is fascinating,” she said, examining illustrations depicting the bond formation ceremony. “The humans and dragons shared consciousness?”
“More than consciousness—they shared souls,” Zalaya explained. “The bond transformed both participants. Humans gained extended life and heightened senses, while dragons received access to human intuition and adaptability. Often a natural romance would blossom between them—and sometimes even in small pods.”
“So they just…” Sora’s fingers trembled against the old tome. “Dragons and their riders… Theymate?”
Zalaya’s wings rustled, the faint shimmer of her silver feathers catching the firelight. “Yes.”
Sora blinked hard, as if the absurd impossibility of it might vanish with enough effort. “Buthowwould they even—I mean, physically—” She flailed, heat rushing up her neck. “How would theyfit?”
A soft trilling chuckle, feathers brushing as Zalaya shifted closer and pointed to the elf rider cupping the dragon’s lowered head on the page. “Love finds a way. It always has. It depends on the pair… or the pod.”
“Thewhat?”
“Pod,” Zalaya said simply. “When multiple dragons and riders live—and love—together. Often they’re from the same wing, working together to defend their clan. Not so different from wulfkin packs. Sometimes an alpha forms a pack, his inner cycle within his clan. For protection. For connection. If they’re lucky, they find an omega to hold them together.”
Sora’s eyes dragged back to the tome, to dragon and rider pair, and then to the prophecy, where it stated “the fire-bringer, mate to the last pure king”inked in what appeared in old blood. “So what am I supposed to do, then?” Her arm swept out, gesturing to the book. “Just accept this? That I’m meant to be with the king because someone long dead wrote that the stars say so?”
“Follow your heart.”
“That’s it?”
“It will come naturally,” Zalaya said, voice low, feather-light. “One way or another.”
Sora looked down at her palm. Silver glinted beneath the skin—new scales blooming just below the surface, framed in red like a rash or a burn. She closed her hand into a fist, noticing that the calluses were gone and her nails were longer, sharper.
As if she was becoming whatever their dragon-blood—the fire-bringer—luna was… the ‘perfect’ mate to Ignis, the last pure dragon king of their clan, and somehow save them all.
“Ihavebeen accepting,” Sora muttered, as glanced up at Zalaya. “More than you know.”
The harpy tilted her head, silent.
“I didn’t run. I didn’t scream when the masked man I had been kissing transformed into a powerful dragon. I’m grateful.” She sighed, placing her hand on the dragon on the page. “The Dralux have treated me like… like I belong. Even when I’m clearly something else.” Her throat tightened. “Unlike the Celestorians. They would’ve tortured and killed me the moment they learned my truth.”
Zalaya’s wings drew in tighter, silver and blue feathers whispering against each other. Her eyes, so old and clouded with light, dimmed just slightly, and she nodded. “What you say is true.”
“I just need time,” Sora said. “Time to learn about this world, the clans, what any of this actually means. I can’t make choices based on some ancient prophecy and a library full of Artania’s history and dragon anatomy.”
“Time,” Zalaya offered softly. “It’s a strange thing to value.”
Something fragile curled at the edge of her words. Grief.
Sora’s breath caught as she remembered how the Celestorians had killed her people… and now they were slowly killing off Ignis’s clan.
“I’ll do whatever I can to help the Dralux,” she said softly, stepping closer. “But I’m not a warrior. I wasn’t trained with a blade or claw. I was a researcher where I was from.” She gestured to the endless rows of shelves. “This was my weapon. Data. Theory. Translation algorithms. My strength was knowing how tothink. Knowledge is power, and mine was always my mind.”
Silver shimmered at the edges of her robe, catching the light like a mirror beneath water. She stared at the scales blooming along her arm, disappearing underneath her tunic’s sleeve.
“I just don’t know if that’s enough anymore,” she muttered with a frown. “If I’m enough. To fight. To stand beside Ignis and the rest of them like the prophecy says I’m supposed to—like everyone expects me to do.”
Zalaya cupped her cheek, the soft down feathers on her palm calming. “Behind every powerful alpha,” she said, locking gazes, “is often an omega, lethal in their own way.”
“Really?” Sora gently shook her head, not wanting to blindly believe. “You really think I have what it takes?”
