The Matchmaker - The Arrax Saga Book 1 Chapter 157

The forest was thick with silence, the kind that felt unnatural, like the trees themselves were holding their breath. The Arrax pack moved forward in formation, shadows slipping between branches and underbrush. Saphira kept low, her boots barely brushing the earth, her breath steady but shallow. Her senses stretched thin, tuned to every rustle, every flicker of movement.

Around her, the others advanced. They were circling the Silvermoon camp just as planned, closing in from all sides until escape was impossible. The air pulsed with tension, the kind that came before impact.

Above the treetops, the blue flame still lingered, Raven’s signal. The witch had been immobilized. That front was secure.

Saphira’s pulse quickened. *One threat down. Now the rest.*

As they neared the edge of the clearing, Silvermoon came into view. Their pack was already on alert, half in wolf form, snarling and braced, the other half in human form, weapons drawn, eyes scanning the trees. The way they moved was sharp, deliberate. But something about it felt… rehearsed.

Nikolas’s voice slipped into her mind, calm and firm. *“Don’t shift yet. Wait. See what you’re dealing with. You’ll know when it’s time. It has to be the right moment.”*

Saphira nodded silently, her fingers flexing at her sides. *“Okay.”* Her body was ready to shift, but her instincts whispered caution.

The vampires struck first, Jasper and Sam leading the charge with blinding speed. They moved like shadows, blades flashing, bodies twisting mid-air. Saphira watched them weave through the Silvermoon wolves, who countered with brutal precision.

*They’re strong. Just as strong as our werewolves. And smart. They’re not just reacting, they’re adapting.*

Then came the wolves. Finn surged forward in wolf form, flanked by Nikolas, Asher, Jed, Anastasia, Zafira, and Saphira herself. They hit the line together, a wall of fury and coordination.

Saphira locked eyes with a Silvermoon fighter in human form. He lunged first, fast and low. She dodged, pivoting sharply, her elbow catching his jaw. He recovered quickly, faster than she expected, and swept her legs. She rolled, came up with a kick to his ribs, then ducked under his next strike.

*He’s fast. But I’ve trained for this.*

As he began to shift, bones cracking, fur sprouting, Nikolas appeared beside her in a blur. His claws slashed across the half-shifted wolf’s chest, dropping him in one clean motion.

Saphira gave Nikolas a quick nod, breathless. *Thank you.*

He nodded back, already turning toward the next threat.

Around her, chaos bloomed. Anastasia and Zafira had shifted fully, their dragon forms towering and radiant, wings slicing the air as they roared and struck. Asher moved like a phantom, his claws tearing through Silvermoon wolves with brutal grace. Finn was locked in combat with a massive wolf, nearly his equal in size and strength, their snarls echoing through the trees.

Saphira spun, scanning the battlefield. Most of Silvermoon were engaged. But something was wrong.

*Where are Lupus and Cassandra?*

She turned again, searching. No sign. And Raven... Raven was gone. So were the witches.

A chill crept down her spine. Her gut twisted.

*Something’s not right.*

She stepped back, eyes narrowing, heart pounding. The fight was too smooth. Too clean. No unpredictability. No chaos. Just repetition.

*Where are they?*

The battle raged around her, but Saphira’s focus sharpened. Her dragon stirred beneath her skin, restless, sensing the shift in the air.

*We’re missing something.*

Saphira stood at the edge of the battlefield, her breath shallow, her eyes scanning the chaos. The clash of claws and spells echoed through the trees, but something gnawed at her. The rhythm of the fight was too smooth, too rehearsed. Bodies moved with precision, but not urgency. Her fingers twitched at her sides, her body ready, but her instincts whispered caution.

Nikolas appeared beside her, silent as shadow. His gaze swept the clearing, posture protective, one hand resting near the hilt of his blade in case any Silvermoon wolves got too close. His presence steadied her but didn’t quiet the unease crawling up her spine.

He leaned in, voice low. “What’s wrong?”

Saphira didn’t take her eyes off the fight. “Something isn’t right. There’s no sign of Raven. Or the witches. And Lupus and Cassandra… they’re not here. It’s too easy. Too clean.”

Nikolas frowned, his jaw tightening. He looked again, really looked. His eyes moved from the fighters to the edges of the clearing, to the trees beyond, to the strange stillness in the air. The sounds were loud, but the energy was wrong. Hollow.

He stepped back slightly, voice quiet but firm. “You’re right. This isn’t right.”

He turned to her, urgency rising. “We need to shift. See if our dragons can pick up on anything.”

Saphira nodded, her heart already racing. “Okay.”

They stepped back from the fray, and in a shimmer of light and heat, they shifted. Vaelora surged forward within her, wings unfurling, scales catching the fading light like molten silver. Vorthar appeared beside her, Nikolas’s dragon form solid and fierce, his eyes already scanning the air.

Saphira reached inward. *‘Vaelora, can you sense anything?’*

The dragon was silent for a moment, then her voice echoed through Saphira’s mind. *‘The fight is fake. Fabricated.’*

Saphira’s heart stilled. *‘How do you know?’*

Vaelora’s eyes glowed brighter, and suddenly Saphira saw through them, the battlefield shimmered with remnants of magic, threads of illusion woven through the air like spider silk. The Silvermoon wolves flickered at the edges, their movements repeating, looping. One wolf lunged, missed, lunged again, exactly the same.

*It’s powerful magic,* Saphira thought. *Extremely powerful.*

She mind-linked Nikolas. *“It’s fake. Vaelora sees it. The Silvermoon pack members are fabricated through magic.”*

Nikolas responded instantly. *“Vorthar senses it too. We need to get everyone to stop.”*

He shifted back, his voice cutting through the air. “Stop! Everyone, stop!”

But no one turned. No one paused. The fighting continued, relentless and rhythmic, like a scene stuck on repeat.

Nikolas moved closer, shouting again. “Stop! It’s not real!”

Still, nothing. The pack fought on, locked in a trance.

Saphira’s breath caught. *They’re not ignoring him. They can’t hear him.*

Vaelora’s voice came again, low and certain. *‘They’re in a trance. Fighting. Repeating.’*

She mind-linked Nikolas. *“They’re trapped. It’s a spell. They’re in a trance.”*

Nikolas’s voice came back, tense. *“Can you mind-link Finn and Anastasia? Like before? That might help reach them.”*

Saphira’s wings tightened. *“I’ll try.”*