Page 62 of Beneath Scales and Shadows
The family moved with painful slowness across the neutral ground. Garth supported Miranda, whose limp spoke of injury or sheer exhaustion. Morgana walked slightly apart, her gaze locked on Sora with an expression that blended relief, fear, and something harder to name.
Every step across the barren stretch felt like an eternity. Sora tracked their progress, weighing the distance still left to cover against the tense, rigid line of royal guards standing watch behind them.
When her family finally reached them, Miranda collapsed into Sora’s arms, her body trembling with exhaustion. “My child,” she whispered, fingers tracing the silver scales at Sora’s temple. “What have they done to you?”
“I’m still me,” Sora assured her, though the words felt like half-truths against her tongue. “You’re safe now.”
Garth stood protectively beside them, his baker’s hands calloused but gentle as they squeezed her shoulder. His eyes, however, remained fixed on the dragons with undisguised wonder. “So the old stories were true,” he murmured.
Morgana hung back, her gaze flickering between Sora and Princess Jewels. “Sister,” she said finally, the word carrying a weight that made Sora’s heart ache. “I never meant—”
“I know,” Sora interrupted, not wanting to hear the confession—not here, not now. “We’ll talk later.”
Lyra approached last, her scholar’s robes torn and dirty but her eyes bright with fervor. “The prophecy unfolds,” she whispered, gripping Sora’s arm. “Just as the ancient texts foretold.”
One of Ignis’s warriors moved forward, wings extended to shield the family. “Take them to safety,” Ignis commanded. “Beyond arrow range.”
As the warrior guided her family away, Princess Jewels’s voice cut across the distance. “You have your precious family,” she called. “Now for the terms of our spy’s release.”
Sora exchanged a glance with Ignis. His crimson eyes held a warning she understood without words: danger waited in whatever came next.
“We must approach,” he said quietly. “Stay behind me.”
They moved forward together, crossing the neutral ground with measured steps. The Celestorian guards shifted their positions subtly, hands moving to weapons, arrows still nocked.
On the platform, Coal remained motionless in his cage, only his eyes tracking their approach.
Princess Jewels awaited them at the base of the platform, her armor gleaming in the strengthening sunlight. Prince Markth stood slightly behind her, his expression unreadable but his posture tense—as if he didn’t want to be here as much as them.
“So the baker’s daughter returns,” Jewels said, her voice pitched to carry no further than their small circle. “Though not as you left us.”
“I’ve changed,” Sora acknowledged, meeting the princess’s cold gaze directly. “But then, it shouldn’t be a surprise to you.”
Something flickered across Jewels’s face—hatred, perhaps, or envy. “The spy’s release comes with a price,” she said, attention shifting to Ignis. “One I think you’ll find interesting, dragon king.”
Ignis’s wings tensed behind him. “Name it.”
“Your life,” Jewels said simply, and in one fluid motion, drew a blade from beneath her cloak—a dagger that gleamed with unnatural opalescence, its surface moving with oil-slick colors that spoke of corrupted essence.
Sora saw the strike coming a heartbeat before it launched. The princess lunged, not at her but at Ignis, aiming for the narrow gap between scales at his throat—a vulnerable point few would know to target.
Without thought, without hesitation, Sora threw herself between them.
Pain exploded along her side as the blade found purchase—not a killing blow, but one that cut through the dragon-scale armor with terrifying ease. She gasped, the world tilting strangely around her.
Ignis roared, the sound shattering stone as he caught her falling body. Blood, hot and wet, spread beneath her armor, soaking the leather beneath.
“Sora!” His voice seemed to come from a great distance, though his face hovered just above hers.
Beyond him, chaos erupted. Arrows rained from the cliffs. Dragons dove from the sky, their formations breaking as they sought to reach their king. The royal guards surged forward, weapons drawn.
Princess Jewels stood frozen, her eyes fixed on Sora with an expression of stunned disbelief. “She shouldn’t have been able to move that fast,” she whispered. “No human could—”
“She is no mere human,” Ignis snarled, gathering Sora closer. “And you have just made your last mistake.”
Darkness began to eclipse Sora’s vision, creeping in from the edges like spilled ink. The wound burned with unnatural heat—not just pain but corruption spreading through her veins.
“Poison,” she managed, the word slipping through blood-flecked lips.
