Chapter 3
NYX
The Council chamber doors felt heavier than usual.
I pushed through anyway, my wings folded tight against my back, every muscle screaming exhaustion.
We’d spent three weeks in Ignarath territory.
Three weeks of sleeping in caves and eating dried meat and tracking ghosts through a city that wanted us dead.
Three weeks of failure.
The chamber opened before me, all carved stone and flickering heat crystals.
The Blade Council sat in their tiered seats, arranged in a half-circle that faced the central floor.
Darrokar occupied the highest seat, his obsidian scales catching the light.
The others flanked him: Rath's crimson bulk, Khorlar's granite stillness, Zarvash's bronze intensity.
Mektar and Veyrak had entered before me, taking their positions.
I kept my gaze forward, locked on Darrokar. My Warrior Lord deserved a full report, and I would give him one, even if the words tasted like ash.
Halfway across the chamber, her scent hit me.
Sweet and sharp, steel wrapped in smoke with something underneath that bypassed thought and went straight to the base of my skull. My fangs began to ache. The familiar tingle spread across my tongue, that maddening sensation I'd been trying to forget for three weeks.
Mine.
The thought detonated in my chest, spread through my blood, made my vision sharpen and my pulse hammer against my ribs.
I knew that scent. Had been tormented for months, and it had only gotten worse since the Skalanth.
I had volunteered for this mission partly to escape it, to put distance between myself and the human woman who'd invaded my thoughts.
It hadn't worked.
My peripheral vision caught movement near the back of the chamber. Two figures standing in the shadows where observers sometimes watched Council proceedings. Terra, unmistakable with her red hair. And beside her, smaller, blonde hair cropped close to her skull.
Lexa.
Every instinct I possessed screamed at me to turn, to go to her, to cross the space between us and claim what was mine. My tail coiled without permission. My claws flexed.
No.
I had a duty. A report to deliver. Lives depending on the information I carried. I couldn't let this want distract me, couldn't let my personal desires compromise my responsibility to Scalvaris.
I forced my gaze back to Darrokar. Forced my feet to keep moving forward. Forced air into my lungs that wanted to do nothing but draw in more of her scent.
She was here. Watching. I could feel her eyes on me like a touch.
I had to ignore it.
I reached the center of the floor and dropped to one knee, pressing my fist to the stone in a formal salute. "Warrior Lord."
"Rise, Nyx." Darrokar's voice carried the weight of command and something else. Concern, maybe. He knew this mission had been dangerous. "Report."
I stood, squaring my shoulders despite the exhaustion dragging at my bones. The Council waited. Silent. Expectant.
Behind me, I heard soft footsteps. Lexa moving, adjusting her stance. The sound was barely audible, but my ears tracked it anyway, cataloging her position, her proximity, the fact that she was close enough I could reach her in five strides if I turned and ran.
Stop it.
"We reached the suspected location in Ignarath," I began, keeping my voice level. Professional. "The building matched the description provided by Vega and Zarvash during their debriefing. Evidence confirmed a human presence within the last month."
"What evidence?" Pyroth leaned forward.
"Scent markers. Human waste. Fabric scraps that are similar to what our own humans arrived in." I paused, choosing my next words carefully. "We estimate at least seven individuals, possibly more."
Rath growled low in his throat. "Estimate? You didn't find them?"
"No." The admission burned. "They were gone."
The chamber went still. Even the heat crystals seemed to dim, their pulsing glow fading to a sullen red.
"Gone where?" Darrokar's tone remained neutral, but I knew him well enough to hear the edge beneath.
"Unknown. We found evidence of a struggle, but not a battle. No blood. No bodies. The fight was brief."
"How brief?" Khorlar's granite voice rumbled from his seat.
"Minutes, perhaps. There were overturned furnishings, scattered belongings. But the damage was minimal. Whoever took them moved fast."
Mektar spoke up from his position to Darrokar's left. "I can confirm Nyx's assessment. The scene suggested a targeted extraction, not a raid."
Behind me, someone inhaled sharply. The sound cut through the formal atmosphere. I didn't need to turn to know it was Lexa. Her scent spiked, fear mixing with fury, and my entire body tensed in response.
She was afraid. Angry. Hurting.
And I couldn't go to her.
My claws dug into my palms, the pain grounding me. Keeping me focused.
"What else?" Darrokar asked.
"There were strange markings on the walls and floor," I continued. "Dark burns in patterns I didn't recognize. Mektar documented them." I gestured to my fellow scout, who produced a rolled piece of parchment covered in careful sketches.
Darrokar took the drawing, studied it. His expression didn't change, but his tail went very still.
"These burns," Zarvash said slowly, rising from his seat to examine the sketches over Darrokar's shoulder. "They're not from any Drakarn weapon."
"No," I agreed. "The pattern is wrong. Too uniform. Too controlled."
Darrokar set the parchment aside, his claws drumming once against the arm of his seat. Thinking. Calculating.
"Your assessment, Nyx. Where are the humans now?"
This was the part I hated. The part that felt like admitting defeat.
"I believe a third party took them. Not Ignarath warriors. Someone with resources, planning, and knowledge of human value. The extraction was too clean and professional for anything else."
"We have no trail," Mektar said quietly. "No witnesses. No direction. The humans could be anywhere on Volcaryth by now."
"Or off it," Zarvash added grimly. It was difficult to believe that someone could leave this world and travel through space. We had no technology to do so.
But the humans had come from a far-off world. Could there be more of them in their ships?
Silence fell. Heavy and oppressive.
I could hear Lexa breathing behind me. Fast, shallow breaths that spoke of barely controlled emotion. Her scent kept shifting, cycling through fear and rage and something that tasted like desperation.
My tail lashed once before I caught it and forced it still.
"We need to send another team," Rath said, his voice rising. "A larger force. We can't just abandon these people."
"They're not our people," one of the other Council members said. I didn't turn to see who. "They're humans who happened to crash on our world."
"They're under Scalvaris's protection," Terra's voice cut through the chamber. Clear. Firm. She'd been silent until now, but apparently, she'd reached her limit.
Several Council members turned to look at her. She stood straight, her hand resting on the blade at her hip, every inch the Warrior Lord's mate.
But she'd spoken out of turn. Observers didn't address the Council during formal sessions.
"Terra." Darrokar's tone held warning.
She ignored it. "You gave us shelter. These are my people. Ignarath is using them as slaves! You can't just decide they're not our problem anymore because finding them is inconvenient."
"Inconvenient?" The Council member who'd spoken before, Pyroth, stood.
His scales caught the light as he moved.
"We're talking about sending warriors into dangerous territory to chase shadows.
We have no intelligence, no leads, no idea where to even start looking.
That's not inconvenient. That's suicide. "
"Then we gather intelligence," Terra shot back. "We don't just give up."
"Enough." Darrokar's voice cracked like a whip. "This is not a time for debate."
Terra's jaw tightened, but she subsided. Barely.
Beside her, Lexa looked like she wanted to combust. Her hands were clenched into fists, her whole body rigid with the effort of staying silent. I could see the war on her face, the desperate need to speak warring with the knowledge that she had even less right than Terra to address the Council.
It was killing her. Watching us discuss the fate of her people, make decisions about their lives, and having no voice in it.
It was killing me to watch her suffer and do nothing.
Darrokar turned his attention back to the Council. "We need to vote. The question before us: do we commit additional resources to searching for the missing humans, knowing we have no concrete leads and limited intelligence?"
"We're stretched thin as it is," Zarvash said, though he sounded reluctant. "Ignarath is watching our borders more closely than ever. The Forge Temple is agitating against human presence. We can't afford to send warriors on a mission with no clear objective."
"We also can't afford to abandon people," Khorlar countered. "What message does that send?"
"Our word was to protect the humans in our city," Pyroth argued. "Not to chase after every human who might exist somewhere on Volcaryth."
The argument continued. Points and counterpoints. Strategic considerations and political implications. I stood in the center of it all, my report delivered, my role reduced to witness.
And I listened to them discuss giving up.
My fangs ached worse. The bond pulled at me, a hook lodged behind my sternum, dragging me toward the woman standing in the shadows. She needed someone to fight for this, to argue for continuing the search.
But I was bound by duty. By honor. By my oath to serve the Council's decisions, even when I disagreed with them.
Even when it meant failing her.
"Vote," Darrokar said finally. "Those in favor of continuing active search operations, indicate now."
Four claws rose. Khorlar. Rath. Veyrak. Mine.
"Those opposed."
Five claws. Including Darrokar's.
The decision was made.