The Matchmaker - The Arrax Saga Book 1 Chapter 159

The wind rushed past Saphira’s wings as she soared above the treetops, the fading light casting long shadows across the forest below. Her eyes scanned the canopy, sharp and relentless, searching for any flicker of movement. But the woods remained eerily still. No shimmer of magic. No sign of Raven. No Silvermoon wolves.

Her heart thudded against her ribs, a steady drumbeat of urgency. *Where are they?*

She reached out through the mind-link, her thoughts slicing through the air. *“Nikolas? Anything?”*

His voice came back, clipped and focused. *“Nothing. I’ve covered the northern ridge. No scent. No movement.”*

Saphira growled low in her throat, frustration prickling beneath her scales. Her wings beat harder, slicing through the air as she banked left. If only I could contact Raven directly…

Vaelora stirred within her, calm and steady. *‘You reached the entire pack before. Perhaps we can isolate it. Try for Raven.’*

Saphira’s eyes narrowed. *‘Good idea.’*

She slowed her flight, hovering above a clearing. Her wings beat in slow rhythm, stirring the leaves below as she closed her eyes and focused. Her mind stretched outward, searching for the familiar thread of Raven’s energy.

*“Raven. Raven, can you hear me?”*

Silence.

She tried again, pushing harder, her thoughts pulsing with urgency. *“Raven. It’s Saphira. Please respond.”*

Still nothing.

Her claws flexed mid-air, breath tightening. Come on. Come on.

Raven’s voice suddenly burst into her mind, sharp and incredulous. *“How the hell are you in my mind?”*

Saphira exhaled in relief, wings dipping slightly. *“I have no idea. But listen, we were tricked. I need to know where you are. Did you send the signal?”*

*“Of course I sent the signal,”* Raven snapped. *“We’re waiting for backup. What do you mean tricked?”*

Saphira banked toward the east, her wings catching the wind. *“It was a witch Elder. She cast an illusion. We thought we were fighting Silvermoon, but it wasn’t real. I’ll explain everything later. Just tell me where you are.”*

Raven’s voice dropped into something more serious. *“We’re hidden right now. But if I send another signal, it’ll expose us. You need to move fast.”*

*“Send it,”* Saphira said. *“I’ll be there as fast as I can.”*

She cut the link and immediately reached for Nikolas. *“Raven’s ok. She sent the signal. It was real. She’s sending another one now. We need to move.”*

*“Understood,”* Nikolas replied.

Saphira pushed her mind outward again, stretching wide across the pack’s mental threads. *“Everyone, Raven’s going to send another signal. Head toward it when it comes.”*

She wasn’t sure if it worked. The magic still felt unstable, unpredictable. But then, above the trees, a blue burst exploded into the sky.

Saphira turned sharply, wings slicing through the air. *There.*

It wasn’t far. She dove toward it, the wind roaring past her ears, her body streamlined and focused. In the distance, she spotted three shapes, Nikolas, Jed, and Zafira, all converging on the signal from different directions, their wings cutting through the dusk like blades.

Her pulse surged. *This is it. The real Silvermoon fight. No illusions.*

Saphira descended fast, wings slicing through the air as the blue signal faded. The moment her claws hit the earth, she shifted back, breath sharp, eyes scanning. Raven stood just ahead, flanked by the witches, each tense, their hands glowing with restrained magic. Raven turned as Saphira landed, her expression tight with relief and fury.

The Silvermoon pack stood across the clearing, a wall of muscle and snarls. Most were already shifted, their fur bristling, claws digging into the dirt. Dead centre stood Lupus and Cassandra, unmoved, unreadable. Lupus’s wolf form was massive, his eyes locked on Raven. Cassandra remained in human form, her posture relaxed, but her gaze sharp and calculating.

Saphira’s wings twitched as she shifted back into dragon form, her scales catching the last light of dusk. *This is it.*

Moments later, Nikolas landed beside her, his dragon form towering and fierce. Jed and Zafira followed, wings folding as they took position, beginning to encircle the Silvermoon pack. Jasper, Talia, and Sam arrived next, their vampiric speed a blur as they flanked the witches.

Still, they were waiting for the others.

Saphira’s eyes swept the enemy line. She recognized some of the warriors who hadn’t shifted, lean, sharp-eyed fighters with blades strapped to their backs. *Don’t underestimate them,* she reminded herself. *They’re smart. Fast. They’ll wait for the right moment.*

Nikolas stepped forward, his dragon form rising tall. He let out a roar that shook the trees, a warning and a challenge. Then his voice slipped into her mind, steady and commanding. *“We can’t wait for the rest. Stay in dragon form. Use your training. Remember, wolves are smaller, more agile. They’ll creep up on you if you’re not careful.”*

Saphira nodded, her claws digging into the earth. *“Got it.”*

Across the clearing, Lupus raised his head and howled. Cassandra shouting, “attack!”

The Silvermoon wolves surged forward, a blur of fur and teeth.

Saphira braced herself. *Massively outnumbered. Stay alert. Stay moving.*

Two wolves came straight for her, one from each side. She twisted, using her tail to sweep left and her wing to strike right. Her wing collided with one wolf mid-leap, sending it crashing into a tree with a yelp. But the other slid under her tail, fast and low, and leapt onto her back.

Saphira snarled, her body bucking. *Training. Barrel roll. Now.*

She rolled hard, slamming her side into the ground and dislodging the wolf. It hit the dirt with a grunt, and before it could recover, she slammed her claws down, pinning it beneath her weight.

The second wolf lunged again, teeth bared, eyes wild.

Before it could reach her, another wolf slammed into it mid-air, knocking it off course.

Saphira turned sharply. Nikolas’s dragon form stood beside her, nodding once before his eyes went wide. He lunged toward her, wings flaring.

Saphira spun, heart lurching, and then she saw it.

A dagger, spinning through the air, aimed directly at her throat.

Cassandra stood behind the Silvermoon line, arm still extended, a smug smile curling her lips.

Time slowed.

Saphira tensed, ready to shift or shield, but before she could move, a blur of silver and flame shot in front of her.

Anastasia’s dragon.

The dagger pierced her wing with a sickening crunch, and Anastasia roared in pain, her body staggering from the impact.

Saphira’s breath caught. No.

She lunged forward, catching Anastasia’s side before she collapsed, her claws trembling.

*This is war,* she thought, fury rising. *And they just made it personal.*