Page 55 of Beneath Scales and Shadows
“I amtrying.”
“Trying?” Ember’s laugh cut sharp as a blade. “Our kin die while youtry. Coal suffers while youtry.” Her voice dropped, edged with accusation, as she stalked closer. “Tell me, twiceborn—why are youreallyhere? What game do you play withourking?”
Sora faltered, confusion momentarily overriding her defensive stance. “What are you talking about?”
The attack came without warning—a feint toward her face followed by a sweeping leg that sent Sora crashing to the stone floor. Pain bloomed across her back, air rushing from her lungs.
“If you mean to beourqueen,” Ember hissed, looming above her, “you must be prepared to fight for this clan. Tokillfor this clan.” She leaned closer, eyes flaring with barely contained fury. “Do you think that you have what it takes to defend what would soon be consideredyours?”
Sora struggled to her feet, tasting blood where she’d bitten her tongue. “That’s not—”
“Coal is being tortured because ofyouand your people.” Ember’s words landed harder than any physical blow. “My mate gave himself so you could remain safe behind these walls. While you share our king’s bed, Coal bleeds!”
The accusation sliced deeper than Sora expected, piercing defenses she hadn’t realized were there. Coal’s capture wasn’t her fault—logically, she knew this—yet guilt coiled in her stomach, spreading like a deadly toxin from a venomous serpent.
The delta spy had been taken during a mission she hadn’t even known about.
“I never asked anyone to die for me,” she whispered, shaking her head, hands lifting—palms open in surrender. “I never asked for any of this!”
“No one ever asks.” Ember’s tail whipped through the air, her stance widening. “Yet they take, torture, and kill all the same.”
Before Sora could catch her breath—before she could even reply—Ember was on her again.
A blur of motion. Heat. Fury. Pain and frustration.
Steel hissed through the air, and Sora barely got her blade up before the next strike slammed into it. The force jarred her arms to the bone, sent her staggering back a step—then another. Ember didn’t give her space. Didn’t let up. Every blow came faster than the last, each one calculated to break her open.
Her foot slipped on the sand-covered, polished stone—too late to recover. A sharp slice to her shoulder made her cry out, then another slash across her stomach sent fire lancing through her core.
She gasped, breath hitching. Couldn’t keep up. Couldn’tthink.
Another strike landed—her thigh this time. Sora buckled, dropping to one knee. Her blade shook in her grip. Pain burned across her skin, sharp and immediate, but it was theprecisionthat rattled her more than anything.
Ember wasn’t just trying to win.
She was proving a point.
She wanted justice—and Sora was the practice dummy for her anger.
Then a sweeping leg caught her ankle, and Sora was falling again, this time hitting the stone with enough force to split her lip. Warm copper filled her mouth. Blood trickled down her chin.
“We both know your people won’t show mercy because you’re some pretty omega.” Ember’s voice came from somewhere above, distant through the ringing in Sora’s ears—her skin slick with blood and sweat. “Because you smell sweet? Because prophecy marked you? The Celestorian royal family would extract your essence drop by drop until nothing remains but an empty husk.”
Something cracked deep inside her—like an earthquake—a silent break, like two faults suddenly shifting.
Sora pushed to her feet, unsteady but rising. Blood smeared across the back of her hand as she wiped her chin, the taste of iron thick on her tongue.
She was sick and tired of being judged, placed in these predetermined—destined—boxes, because of who she was reborn as.
“You think I chose this?” she spat, returning the same venom Ember had given her. “You think Iwantedto die on Earth? To wake in a stranger’s body? To discover I’m supposedly destined to help save a world I barely understand?”
She stood, ignoring protesting muscles and throbbing wounds. “I was a historian. A researcher. I catalog artifacts—I don’t lead wars!”
Heat surged beneath her skin, different from anything she’d experienced before. Not the burning need of approaching heat, but something sharper, more focused. The silver scales along her arms and shoulders began to shimmer with internal light, casting a faint glow—like twinkling stars all around her.
Ember’s eyes widened fractionally—the first hint of uncertainty Sora had seen from the formidable guard.
“You want me to fight?” Sora advanced, her voice unnervingly steady even to her own ears. “Fine. Let’s fight.”
