Chapter 4
Chapter Four
LUROK
The words escape me before I can swallow them back, and I am stunned by my own admission.
It is the closest I will come to acknowledging the shift in my perception of her kind, the first hairline crack in centuries of hatred.
But this human, with her gentle hands and worried eyes, and her fierce sister, are different from the monsters I have learned to hate.
The night deepens around us. Shadows pool in the corners of the shed. Outside, crickets begin their evening chorus, oblivious to the ancient enemies sharing whispered truths within these walls.
Serin nods, apparently satisfied with my divulgence that not all of her kind are worthy of my hatred. Moving to a new wound, her hands prompt me to brace for the sting of her healing mixture.
“I… overheard something. A few days after Leira left,” she says. “I was outside my father’s study, and General Thorne was with him. I heard Thorne say the worms confirmed a detonation and that Leira had survived. How many worms are there? Why have they sided with Thorne?”
I hesitate again, calculating how much to reveal. Knowledge is power, and I am giving her more with every word. Yet if her father truly plots the destruction of Vessan-Kar, perhaps this soft-spoken human with her gentle hands and worried eyes is an unexpected ally in preventing a massacre.
"Enough to cause trouble," I finally say. "Enough to betray their own kind for promises of life aboveground."
"Is it true Leira has powers?" Her eyes search mine. "I overheard my father and Captain Halvane saying that Leira... that she burned a man to ash." The words tumble out in a rush, as though she fears them too much to hold them on her tongue.
Relief softens my expression; a genuine smile spreads across my face despite the pain.
"Burned a man to ash? I know nothing of such an incident, but it sounds like she made it to the surface." The thought of Leira and the others’ survival lightens my chest. Shifting my weight, scales scrape against the rough wooden floor with renewed energy. "Yes. Your sister commands fire, siphoning Varok’s element.”
"But how?" Serin whispers, the cloth in her hands momentarily forgotten. "She's human. She's just... Leira."
"Varok is the fire elemental of prophecy," I explain, my voice echoing oddly in the small space.
"His awakening marks the beginning of what our ancient seers called the Season of Naga.
Whether it brings our ascension or destruction remains debatable.
Through the Crimson Bond, Leira somehow shares his flame. "
I pause, watching fear and fascination war across her features. The same expression I have seen on countless naga faces when ancient texts are recited in temple chambers, as profound change looms.
My voice drops to a reverent whisper. "Leira is the child of flesh named in the Threadborn Prophecy. The catalyst that awakens the chain of events foretold in our ancient texts."
"Threadborn," she repeats, rolling the word on her tongue like an unfamiliar spice. "What does that mean exactly?"
I search for simple terms to explain what naga scholars debate for lifetimes.
"A human marked by destiny, whose life becomes woven into the tapestry of fate, is called the Loom of Legacy.
The prophecy speaks of four elemental nagas who will be awakened through blood bonds with their human counterparts.
These awakened elementals will either unite our peoples and end the Sundering, or.
.." I pause, scales rippling with unease, "be corrupted by human influence and poison naga bloodlines forever. "
Her eyes meet mine. "And which version do you believe?”
"That your kind brings only destruction," I say, the air around us stirring in agitated currents with the flash of my anger.
Her hazel eyes darken. "And my sister is Varok's... counterpart?"
"She wears the serpent stone of the fire elemental called Emberyn. She bears his blood in her veins. She melted basilyx lead with her bare hands. What do you think?"
Serin sits back on her heels, looking suddenly very small and very young. "I thought they were exaggerating. Making up stories to justify..." She swallows hard. "To justify whatever they're planning. Maybe you’re right to believe my kind brings only destruction to yours."
Her words leave me momentarily speechless, my throat tightening with surprise. I never expected a human to acknowledge the poison her kind might bring to mine. The admission shifts something between us, subtle as a change in air pressure before a storm, and a strange ache stirs in my chest.
The fear in her scent shifts, becoming more complex. Not fear of me, I realize, but fear for her sister. For what Leira has become. For what her father might do to her.
My tongue flicks out, tasting her sudden discomfort in the air. "You overhear much. Do you make a habit of spying on people?" I ask, my voice dropping to a silken hiss. "Lurking in shadows, collecting secrets not meant for your ears?”
Her spine stiffens, chin lifting defiantly, her hazel eyes hardening with pride—a gesture that suddenly reminds me so much of Leira that I blink in surprise, my own defenses momentarily wavering.
"I do what I must," she says, her voice firmer than I have heard it yet. "I just want news of my sister. Father won't tell me anything. Not about her welfare, not about how she's being treated, not whether she's happy or miserable or..." Her voice catches. "Or even alive."
She turns away, arranging her medical supplies with unnecessary precision, buying time to compose herself. "When Father speaks of her, it's only as the offering or the treaty seal. Never as Leira. Never as his daughter." Bitterness laces her words. "What would you do if it were your sister?"
The question strikes deeper than she could know.
I had a clutch-sister once. Her scales shimmered silver, like mine, and her eyes were the same pale frost. We raced through underground streams and spent hours inventing games.
The rules shifted like sand whenever one of us began to lose.
One night, the war spilled into our cavern.
A human blade took her from me with a single, precise strike.
The memory of her blood pooling beneath her coils still haunts my dreams. What would I have done to learn her fate, had there been any hope she survived?
"I would have done worse than eavesdrop," I admit vehemently.
Serin's shoulders relax as she moves down to a wound near the end of my tail, her fingers working methodically to clean the ragged gash where scales had been torn away. The firmness in her voice contrasts with the gentleness of her touch as she applies the bandage.
"And the explosion," she murmurs, not meeting my gaze. "What happened?”
"The naga traitors detonated a device in the palace. Your sister had been invited to dine with the Serpent Crown. I learned later that our ruler, Naryth, was killed.” I flex my claws, remembering the chaos, the screams, the dust hanging in the air.
"I had followed one of them, Jarik, suspicious of his movements.
I tracked him through tunnels I thought collapsed during the war.
He led me to the eastern border." My voice hardens.
"That is where I saw General Thorne amassing an army.
Dozens of human soldiers were establishing a forward camp, with supply crates marked with your father's insignia. "
"I heard them mention something about the eastern garrison," she whispers, her voice shaking beneath the effort to stay calm.
"Captain Halvane brought reports from there today.
He kept saying they needed to accelerate the timeline.
" Her eyes meet mine, wide and filled with both fear and stubborn resolve.
"They're planning something terrible. An attack on your city.
They talked about collapsing tunnels, burying all of Vessan-Kar, including my sister.
" She presses trembling fingers to her lips as her voice catches.
"That’s why I need your help to find her. I need to warn her."
The blood freezes in my veins. The humans would bring the mountain down upon us, erasing what remains of our civilization as thoroughly as they erased what once stood above.
"How soon?" I ask, urgency sharpening my tone.
"I don't know exactly. Halvane wanted to do it immediately, but Father said something about waiting for more intelligence from someone called Zela." Serin's fingers tighten around my tail, her human warmth startling against my cooler scales. "We have to warn your people. Warn Leira."
"We," I repeat, testing the sound of it. This unlikely alliance forged in a garden shed between a wounded predator and gentle prey. "You truly intend to journey to Vessan-Kar with me? To walk willingly into the domain of creatures you have been taught to fear?"
"Leira did," she says simply.
I study her face, searching for deception and finding none. Just that same openness, that same determination that reminds me increasingly of her sister. Perhaps it is a trait they share, this stubborn refusal to behave as humans should.
"Then we will have to travel soon,” I say, "before your father's plan can unfold."
The words have barely left my mouth when a sound slices through our hushed conversation—a sharp, deliberate scuff of footsteps on stone, closer and closer, each heavy step knotting tension in my stomach.
Serin’s head whips toward the door, her face draining of color so quickly I can almost see her blood retreating beneath her skin.
Terror flares in her eyes, flooding the shed with silent dread.
"Someone's coming," she whispers, voice tight with panic.
The footsteps draw nearer, each crunch of stone bringing discovery closer.
"Hide under the table. Now," she whispers urgently.
In the space of a single heartbeat, I calculate our vulnerability. I am too wounded to fight, and this small, wooden structure offers no secondary exit.