Chapter 22 Kharox
Kharox
They did not hear the forest the way I did.
The trees whispered of hunters.
The earth trembled beneath heavy boots.
Blood-scent rode the wind like a warning.
Yet they walked, tired and hopeful, toward the stone arch nestled in the ridge—a broken thing. And still… they hoped.
Khal’ Sira walked among them.
Small. Soft. Strong.
But she had freed me.
Her scent was fire and ancient power. Her spirit unbroken. Untamed.
A queen without a crown, yet the world bowed when she breathed.
I approached the dead archway. Stones collapsed in places, roots crawling where magic once lived. My claws pressed into a shattered glyph. Energy sparked—weak, fading—then died like a dying star.
Not enough.
The portal would not hold.
They gathered behind me—her warriors.
Protective.
Suspicious.
Afraid.
The fire-handed one—the snarling male—glared as if they might kill me. The Draxon-possessed twins watched with predatory focus. The shadow-wielder poised, ready to strike.
I could break them all.
Yet I bore no fangs.
My debt was to her.
I turned, towering above them. My voice slid into their minds, heavy and rough. “I am called Kharox.”
The fire-handed male blinked. “Carrots?”
The one called Chloe elbowed him so hard his breath left his lungs.
Good female. Sharp. Deadly.
We reached the broken archway, roots strangling ancient stone. The air tasted wrong—old magic and dust. I pressed a claw to the glyph. Blue sparks crawled up my arm, then died.
Dead portal.
The pack reacted as Aurathions tend to do—voices, panic, questions. But I watched Khal’ Sira.
Her breath stuttered.
Her face filled with disappointment.
She feared losing the others on the far side—her family, her tribe.
“Can we fix it?”
“Not tonight.” I pointed out where the damage had been done.
Chloe’s voice was tight. “That was done recently.”
Deshawn’s grip tightened on his weapons. “They waited until she escaped. They wanted to funnel us here.”
The shadow-male, Oren, swore under his breath. He turned to the liar with accusation.
“I couldn’t have known. I’m sorry.” He ducked his head, but I alone saw the slight smirk on his face.
I would kill him, but I knew he had a purpose.
I looked to Khal’ Sira. “It’s a trap.”
Oliver moved closer to Chloe, shielding her with his body. Deshawn shifted beside her, jaw clenched.
Good pack.
Protective.
Smart.
“If you try to open it, they will feel it. They will come with chains and blades and fire.”
Reverie’s voice cracked. “We have to get Chloe and the others home.”
I stepped into her path and lowered my head until my snout rested inches from hers. Her scent trembled—fear, fury, love, all bleeding together. “Stay. Fight. Kill those who hunt you. Then cross when the way is safe.”
Chloe looked between us, her eyes shone with fear and defiance. “I wouldn’t leave without you, anyway.” She turned to me. “What if they find the portal on the other side first and attack from there?”
“Then we kill them there too,” I growled. “I follow you through worlds if I must.”
The forest screamed a warning—snapped branches, distant shouts, metal on stone.
Hunters.
Dozens.
The fire-male snarled. “Reverie, they’re close.”
“Too close,” Oren, the leader, bit out.
Oliver slipped forward, blades drawn. Deshawn rolled his shoulders, ready for blood.
Chloe whispered, “We can do this.”
Khal’ Sira looked at every one of them, including me.
Her voice broke open with something ancient. “We make our stand here.”
I roared so deep the ground around us vibrated.
Good.
Let Bellona learn what it means to hunt monsters now that our queen has returned.
The first hunter broke through the trees with the stench of fear and sweat.
Then another.
And another.
Dozens.
They thought numbers would matter.
My claws slid free with a soft metallic whisper. Pantar beside me did the same, tentacles coiling like living blades.
Deshawn stepped forward, voice low. “Here we go.”
Oliver crossed one blade over the other in silent promise. Chloe pressed her back to his, chin lifted. Small, but unbreakable. When their abilities appeared, they would be legendary, as the queen’s Aegisworn should be.
The fire-male—Nathan—laughed darkly and lit his hands like torches.
The twins—Zeke and Zane—exhaled smoke, eyes glowing with the shift they barely controlled. Their scales rippled beneath their skin.
And Khal’ Sira… she stood in the center of them all.
Too fragile.
Too scared.
The hunters charged.
I met the first with a swipe that opened him from collarbone to hip.
Pantar tore through two more.
Oliver moved like a whisper of knives, and Deshawn fought like a man who had lived his life on the battlefield.
But the enemy did not tire.
More poured through the trees.
Archers.
Blades.
Shackles.
Shackles meant for her.
Khal’ Sira’s breath quickened. Trapped. Surrounded. She lifted her hands—but not with fire. Her eyes unfocused, pupils dilating. Something ancient stirred in her blood. In the air.
The world went silent.
Even my heart paused.
A voice—not hers—spoke from her throat, layered and echoing through bone and soul. “She is ours. We stand.”
Her hair lifted on a wind that did not exist.
The air rippled.
Every Ancestor who had worn her blood ignited inside her.
Hunters that had been lunging stopped mid-stride.
Frozen. Mid-air. Suspended as though time itself bowed.
Khal’ Sira’s hands spread, and the light around her turned white-hot, ghostly, shimmering like a thousand spirit hands overlaying her own. A spectral Queen rose behind her—tall, crowned, made of smoke and stars.
Pantar’s fur stood on end.
This was no Aurathion ability.
“You do not touch what is ours.” the spirit-voice echoed in every skull.
The hunters hung—choking, clawing, terrified.
Reverie whispered, voice her own again, but filled with command. “Drop.”
Every enemy slammed into the ground at once—like the earth itself had called them home. Dead before they hit the ground.
Silence.
Even the forest held its breath.
Her knees wavered—body shaking under power too significant for her bones—but her men caught her before she fell. Nathan’s fire dimmed. Zeke’s claws gentled. Jet and Oren stepped in protectively. Zane stood at the ready to defend her if needed.
I lowered myself—not in weakness.
In recognition.
Khal’ Sira.
The Reborn Queen.
Last child of the bloodline.
And I made the sign of loyalty. Crossed arms, claw dragged down my sternum.
They didn’t want her dead.
They wanted her contained.
Because if she rose…
The Dark Faction could not cage her.
I moved to her side, towering over her, growl vibrating the earth. “You did well, little queen.”
She looked up at me, not frightened. Not horrified in the least by what she’d done.
Just steady.
“Did I?” she whispered. “I’m not even sure how I did it.”