Chapter 10
Chapter
Ten
NYXARA
I wake with a start, the weight of last night pressing against my skin like a phantom touch.
I should not have let her touch me. I shouldn’t have let her mouth ghost over my skin, her tentacles tease and stroke, drawing sounds from me that I should never have given. I should not have let myself crave her.
The air in my chamber is thick, laced with the remnants of her magic, the scent of salt and dark waters lingering even though she is no longer here. I exhale sharply, raking a hand through my hair. I need to leave.
I rise, silk sheets slipping from my skin, the cold morning air licking against the heat still lingering from last night. My jaw tightens as I shove the thought away and move toward the grand armoire against the far wall.
I pull out a gown, black as midnight, the fabric shimmering faintly in the dim morning light. The corset top cinches my waist, lace curling over my ribs like creeping vines, the plunging neckline revealing just enough to tempt, but never invite. I slide my arms through the fitted sleeves, the delicate material clinging to my skin, shifting like shadow when I move.
The skirt flows in soft layers, sheer in places, parting high up my thigh, the long slit allowing freedom of movement. I step into thigh-high boots, the sharp heel clicking against the stone floor as I stand, rolling my shoulders, feeling the power settle back into me.
At the ornate vanity, its surface carved from polished obsidian, I trace a fingertip over the vials of perfume and kohl scattered across it. I line my eyes with kohl, darkening the edges, sharpening them into something lethal. My lips, full and soft, are painted a deep plum, a stark contrast against the pallor of my skin.
Satisfied, I push back from the vanity, running a hand through my thick black waves, letting them fall unbound down my back. The weight of it is familiar, the strands smooth beneath my fingers, a reminder of the power that runs through my veins.
I turn toward the balcony. The great doors swing open at my command, the wind rushing past me, cool and fresh with the scent of the forest below.
The morning air is crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant rain. From my balcony, Varellith stretches before me, bathed in the golden haze of sunrise. The towering silver-barked trees sway in the wind, their iridescent leaves catching the light like shards of amethyst and emerald. The rivers carve through the land, dark as ink, winding toward the vast lakes that glisten like obsidian glass under the rising sun. It is beautiful. Wild. Mine.
And soon, war will come to it.
Below, the valley stirs with life. A herd of shadow elk moves through the trees, their inky black coats flickering like smoldering embers as they step between light and darkness. Their leader, a massive stag with twisted silver antlers, lifts his head toward the castle, nostrils flaring as if sensing my gaze. They know what is coming.
Further along the riverbanks, a trio of Naiads rise from the shallows, their translucent bodies shimmering like liquid opals, hair tangled with dark kelp, eyes like deep water. They whisper to one another in their ancient tongue, watching, waiting.
Near the cliffs, perched on the jagged rocks overlooking the valley, a griffin stretches its wings, feathers shifting between hues of sapphire and gold. Its sharp gaze sweeps across the land, always watching, always guarding.
Even the smaller creatures move differently today. The wisps flit between the trees, their glowing bodies leaving streaks of pale fire in the air. The Shadewalkers remain unseen, but I know they are there—watching, listening.
They all feel it.
King Aldric is pushing deeper. His men are growing bold. If I do not act soon, they will come for all that I protect.
A sharp flutter of wings disturbs the silence. I don’t turn as Morrin lands on the balcony railing, his talons curling against the stone. He watches me for a long moment before speaking.
“You should go to them.”
I exhale through my nose, fingers tightening against the balustrade. “They know I am here.”
“They know, yes. But they need to see you,” he counters. “Your presence reassures them. And reassurance is what they need now.”
I glance at him, arching a brow. “Since when do you care for diplomacy?”
His beady eyes gleam. “I care for survival.”
A low hum settles in my chest. He’s right. The creatures of this land need more than whispered promises. They need to know that I will fight for them, that they will not be left to suffer beneath human greed.
It is time I remind them who I am.
With a sharp turn, I stride through my chambers, pushing open the heavy doors that lead to the courtyard. The castle gates loom ahead, the winding stone path stretching beyond them into the dense heart of the forest. As I walk, my magic presses outward, curling through the trees, stirring the rivers. I hear them respond in turn.
The moment I step past the tree line, the whispers start.
The wind rustles through the ancient oaks, carrying with it voices—soft, fleeting, urgent.
Wisps drift between the trunks, their delicate, glowing forms floating like embers caught in a breeze. They speak in fragmented emotions, brushing against my mind, their presence like fingertips trailing over my skin. Warnings. Human feet defiling sacred ground. The king’s reach pressing closer.
I walk deeper, the foliage thickening around me. The air grows heavy, rich with the scent of damp moss and blooming nightshade vines, their luminescent petals curling in the underbrush, feeding off the latent magic that seeps from the rivers of Varellith.
By the time I reach the river, the waters are already stirring. They ripple in anticipation, the current twisting unnaturally, drawn to my presence. I step forward, my power brushing over the surface. A tremor. A pulse.
Then, the water parts.
Lirien emerges, her translucent form rising from the depths like something pulled from the marrow of the world itself. Water drips from her glowing skin, her seaweed-dark hair fanning around her like ink bleeding into water. Her moonstone eyes lock onto mine, piercing, unreadable.
She has seen centuries of war, and she knows another is coming.
"Dragon Queen," she murmurs, voice like the tide, steady and unyielding. "You have been absent."
"I have been preparing."
"For war?" Her gaze flickers, unreadable.
"For survival."
Silence stretches between us, the river lapping softly against the shore.
Then, she turns her eyes to the distant mountains. To the lands beyond the rivers. To the crumbling ruins that mark the edges of human-controlled territory.
"He gathers more soldiers. More weapons. He will not stop."
I already know this.
The king is growing desperate. I slaughtered his scouts, but that was only the beginning. He will send more. He will not stop until he has torn this land apart.
"I will not let him take Varellith."
Lirien’s lips curl, but it is not amusement. It is something closer to pity.
"And yet, you harbor one of his greatest weapons within your own walls."
My body stiffens. She means Vaela.
"She is bound to me."
"Is she?" Lirien hums, stepping forward, the water shifting around her ankles, swirling in a slow, deliberate spiral. "Or are you bound to her?"
A muscle ticks in my jaw.
"Enough." My voice is a blade, sharp and cutting. "Tell the others to retreat to the deep waters. When the war comes, they must be hidden."
She watches me for a long moment, then inclines her head. "As you command." Then, she is gone.
The river settles. I exhale, turning from the water, my thoughts still snarled. The path through the forest winds ahead, leading me to another sacred place. A grove where the trees whisper secrets, where the veil between realms thins.
The Titanforged await.
Their massive forms rise from the earth, bodies hewn from obsidian and iron, veins of molten gold pulsing beneath the jagged cracks of their ancient skin. They are not men. Not fully of this world. They are relics of a time before kingdoms, before war—giants molded by the gods, bound to the land itself. They do not serve, nor do they kneel. But when they rise, when they move, the earth trembles beneath their weight.
One steps forward—Rhyzan.
He towers over me, his form carved from stone and fury, his molten eyes burning like twin suns. His presence alone could drive lesser men to their knees, could break bones with the sheer weight of his existence. His voice, when he speaks, rumbles through the trees, vibrating in my ribs like a fault line waiting to break.
"You have come."
"I need your aid."
The others shift at my words, their bodies grinding like mountains moving, the weight of their presence pressing against the very air. They listen, silent as the deep earth, as old as the roots beneath our feet.
"War is coming," I continue, meeting Rhyzan’s molten gaze. "The humans will not stop. I need your strength at the borders. Watch them. Inform me when they cross into our lands, so that together we may end this before it begins."
The stillness that follows is vast. Then, slowly, Rhyzan tilts his head. The golden fissures in his body pulse, the runes carved into his chest flickering with ancient power.
At last, he speaks. "The Titanforged do not serve." His voice is the deep groan of shifting stone, the weight of the world condensed into sound. "But we protect. We endure. We were here before men, and we will be here when their bones turn to dust. We will guard your borders. We will wait. And when the time comes, we will break them beneath our feet."
I incline my head in acknowledgment. One by one, they sink into the mountain, their massive forms melting seamlessly back into the rock, watching, waiting—their presence now nothing but a whisper in the wind.
Only Rhyzan lingers.
His molten eyes hold me in place, burning, unrelenting.
"She has changed you," he says, his voice lower now, more thoughtful—a landslide waiting to happen.
I do not move. "Who?" I ask, though I already know the answer.
He exhales, a sound like cracking stone. "The siren."
"She has not."
A slow, rumbling hum—disbelieving. "Lies do not suit you, Dragon Queen."
Then, with a great shudder of earth, he is gone, his body vanishing back into the mountain, leaving only silence in his wake.
By the time I reach the castle, dusk has fallen, casting long shadows over the black stone walls, the glow of torches flickering along the battlements. The creatures of my land prepare, retreating, hiding themselves away in the deepest parts of the forests, beneath the lakes, within the mountains.
The war will come.
And we will be ready.
But my mind is still tangled in the words of the river guardian, the knowing stare of Rhyzan, the lingering feel of Vaela’s hands on my body.
I push open the heavy doors, stepping into the great hall.
And there she is.
Waiting.
Perched on the edge of one of the large dining tables, her legs crossed, silver hair cascading over her shoulders, her sheer robe clinging to every curve, leaving little to the imagination.
Temptation incarnate.
She tilts her head, a smirk curling at the edges of her lips. "Avoiding me, Dragon Queen?"
I step forward, my presence swallowing hers, letting her feel the heat, the power thrumming beneath my skin.
"I have been handling more important matters than your games, siren."
She clicks her tongue, pushing off the table, the movement making the delicate fabric shift, exposing the soft swell of her breasts, the long lines of her legs.
My gaze flickers—too briefly.
She notices.
Her smirk deepens, wicked and knowing. "Strange. After last night, I’d have thought there’d be little room in that sharp mind of yours for anything but me."
I step closer, the space between us shrinking. "Do not mistake this for something it is not."
She leans in, lips ghosting my jaw, a taunting whisper. "And what exactly is it, Nyxara?"
I exhale sharply, forcing away the temptation she so carelessly dangles in front of me. My grip tightens around her wrist, unyielding. "It is war, Vaela. And you will fall in line, or you will be useless to me."
Her smirk doesn’t falter, but I feel the subtle shift in her breath, the way her body reacts to my command despite her endless need to test me.
"Now, come," I order, yanking her forward. "If you wish to stand at my side in this war, then you will learn the cost of it."
And with that, I pull her with me—into the heart of battle preparations.
Into the truth of what is coming.