Page 64 of Beneath Scales and Shadows
“Take inventory of our forces,” he commanded. “I want casualty counts, injury assessments, and readiness reports. Prepare for retaliation.”
“Does she live?” Enixa asked, her voice laced with hope as she scanned Sora’s still form.
Ignis glanced down at the female who had stolen his hearts—who dared to believe these weren’t her final moments. And he refused to believe it, too.
“For now.” A low growl rumbled under his scales. “But if her soul flame leaves us, I shall burn their kingdom down to ashes and cleanse the world of their evil. They’ve been left to live far too long.”
“Let’s hope our queen survives,” Blaze murmured, wrapping an arm around his mate in comfort. “We’ll carry out your orders and report back as soon as we can.”
They bowed in perfect unison, backing away without any further questions. This was why they led wings—they understood when explanation could wait.
Ignis carried Sora to her bed, laying her down with a gentleness that belied the storm raging within him. His taloned hand cupped her cheek, finding it cool to the touch—too cool, when she normally blazed like an ember against his palm.
“Don’t leave me,” he whispered, the words scraping his throat raw. “Not when I’ve only just found you.”
He pressed his forehead to hers, inhaling her scent—moonflowers and cinnamon now tainted by metallic corruption. Her heart fluttered beneath his palm, a frantic fish trapped in a failing cage.
Asher burst through the doorway, medical supplies clutched to his chest, Zalaya following close behind with an ancient wooden chest marked with runes.
“The wound?” Asher demanded, already moving to Sora’s side.
“Princess Jewels. Dagger. Corrupted essence.” Ignis forced each word past the fury threatening to choke him. “She stepped between us.”
Asher’s hands moved with practiced efficiency, gathering healing balms and cleansing cloths. “We must see the wound,” he said, glancing at Zalaya.
The harpy nodded, taloned hands moving toward Sora’s armor. “I must remove this,” she said, also seeking Ignis’s permission with her gaze.
He stepped back, giving her space to work. This wasn’t how he’d imagined Sora would first be openly bared before him—pale, poisoned, life fading with each labored breath.
Modesty meant little to most monsters, but he knew how much it mattered to humans—especially to her. Yet her survival left little room for such considerations. When her life balanced on the edge of a blade, preserving her dignity often came second to keeping her alive.
“Do what you must,” he growled. “You have my permission.”
Zalaya worked methodically, undoing the complex fastenings of the dragon rider armor with deft precision. As each piece fell away, the extent of the damage became clear—a jagged wound along Sora’s side, the flesh around it mottled with sickly purple-black tendrils spreading outward like poisonous roots.
Asher applied cleansing balms, his expression growing darker with each passing moment. The wound hissed at the touch of medicine, corrupted essence fighting the healing properties with unnatural vigor.
“This is beyond conventional treatment,” Asher said finally, looking up at Ignis with grave eyes. “The essence has been altered—enhanced through forbidden alchemy. It refuses cleansing.”
Zalaya finished removing the last of the armor, covering Sora’s naked form with a light silk sheet. “Her transformation has stalled,” she observed, pointing to the silvery scales now dulling to ashen gray. “The poison targets her dragon blood specifically.”
Ignis paced the length of the bed, wings twitching with restrained fury. “What can be done?”
The healer and harpy exchanged a loaded glance.
“Your presence anchors her,” Asher said carefully. “The alpha energy in your aura slows the corruption’s spread. But it cannot reverse it.”
“If only the two of you had completed your bond,” Zalaya said, her voice laced with ancient wisdom. “A joined life force through mating would have given her your strength—your resilience.”
Ignis stopped pacing, tail lashing behind him. “What are you suggesting?”
He refused to force a mating bond on her while she was unconscious.
“There is a ritual,” Zalaya said, opening the wooden chest to reveal compartments filled with crystalline vials, dried herbs, and instruments of polished dark elf metal. “Ancient beyond reckoning. Dragon kings once used it in times of dire need.”
“She speaks of soul binding,” Asher explained, his hands still working to clean the wound. “Not merely the physical joining of mates, but the mystical union of life forces.”
Ignis’s gaze snapped to the harpy. “Once done, it cannot be undone. Am I correct?”
