Page 80 of Beneath Scales and Shadows
She trailed off, mortified to be discussing such things with people who still felt like her parents, even if they technically weren’t.
Garth’s expression shifted from protective to thoughtful as he studied Ignis. “You love her, then? This twice-born soul in my daughter’s body?”
Ignis met his gaze directly, no evasion in his crimson eyes. “With all that I am and all that I have. She is my treasure, freely chosen rather than simply destined.”
The simple declaration stole Sora’s breath. They’d spoken of desire, of connection, of prophecy—but never had he stated his feelings so plainly, so publicly. Through their bond, she felt the truth of it—a love that transcended physical form, that had waited centuries for recognition.
Garth nodded slowly, something like approval flashing across his weathered features. “Then you have my blessing, for whatever that’s worth to a dragon king.”
“It is worth more than you know,” Ignis replied, inclining his head in respect. “Family bonds are sacred to dragonkind.”
Miranda dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “Our daughter—a dragon queen. The other bakers’ wives will never believe it.”
Despite everything, Sora found herself laughing—the sound startled out of her by the sheer absurdity of the situation. A historian from Earth, reborn on an impossible moon, transformed by ancient magic, and bound to a dragon king... discussing it all over tea like some commonplace occurrence.
“I’m still figuring out what all this means,” she admitted, gesturing to herself. “It’s a lot to take in.”
“For all of us,” Lyra agreed, her scholar’s eyes bright with unspoken questions. Sora knew that when they were finally alone, Lyra’s questions would come too fast for her to think straight. “I can’t wait to hear all about your journey.”
A comfortable silence settled over the room, broken only by the soft hiss of crystal formations as they pulsed with light. Sora felt something loosen in her chest—a knot of tension she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying. They knew her truth now, all of it, and hadn’t rejected her. It was more than she’d dared hope for.
Somehow, she had a family… people to call her own.
Ignis’s hand settled on her shoulder, a gentle reminder of time passing. “The council will be gathering soon.”
Sora nodded, rising reluctantly from her seat. “We have to go. But I’ll come back—I promise. Once everything is settled.”
Miranda stood as well, pulling Sora into another fierce embrace. “Be careful, my child. Twice-born or not, you are family now.”
“You’ve always protected others,” Garth added, joining the hug. “Even as a little girl. But remember to protect yourself as well.” When he let go, he turned to Ignis, squared his shoulders, and gave a sharp lift of his chin. “You better keep your promise and make sure my daughter returns without another injury.”
Ignis let out an amused huff. “I plan on it.”
Morgana hung back until Miranda extended a hand, drawing her into the family circle. The embrace felt strange yet oddly right.
When they finally pulled apart, Sora looked at each face in turn, committing them to memory. Whatever awaited them at Celestoria, she would carry this moment with her—this acceptance, this belonging.
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
SORA
Sora’s head throbbed as she and Ignis left the council chamber, the lingering voices of dissenters and doubters still ringing in her ears. Five hours of debate, and they had nothing to show for it—other than a frustrating dinner.
Each of their allies—their neighbors—needed more time to gather their armies.
Time they didn’t have—not with Ember’s frantic confirmation that she could barely feel Coal anymore. That’s why they were leaving at dawn.
And the wulfkin of Ilunthar had outright refused, claiming their territory needed protection now more than ever—they had a civil war amongst themselves.
“That could have gone better,” she muttered, adjusting her tunic where it brushed against the ruby scale embedded in her side—a permanent reminder of how close she’d come to death. The blood bond with Ignis thrummed with his frustration, a low simmer that matched her own.
Ignis’s wing curled protectively behind her as they walked, not quite touching but close enough that she felt its heat. “But we were able to form a plan.”
“Politics.” She nearly spat the word. “While Coal suffers, they would rather debate whether we should wait the three days or leave tomorrow as planned.”
The crystal-lined corridors of the mountain stronghold pulsed with their shared agitation. Clan members they passed lowered their eyes respectfully, but she caught their worried glances, the weight of their expectations settling on her shoulders like stone.
They’d started calling her “queen” when they thought she couldn’t hear. The title felt wrong, unearned—yet with each passing day, she found herself stepping further into the role. Strange how quickly she’d accepted this new reality, this connection to a world she’d never known existed before.
