The Matchmaker - The Arrax Saga Book 1 Chapter 165

Saphira’s eyes stayed glued to the monitor, her breath shallow and uneven. Anastasia’s pulse was still there. A slow, fragile rhythm that flickered like a candle in a storm. The violet-gold antidote had done something, but not enough. The line on the screen pulsed weakly, refusing to climb.

“Why isn’t it working?” she asked, her voice cracking as she turned to the witch doctor. Her throat burned, her hands clenched at her sides.

The woman’s face was tight with concentration, her fingers hovering over the bowl of remaining ingredients. “Nikolas’s blood wasn’t enough,” she said quietly. “It slowed the poison, but it’s not reversing it.”

Saphira’s heart clenched, her stomach twisting.

“I hate to interrupt,” came a voice behind her, and she turned sharply to find Finn standing there, his expression grim. She hadn’t even noticed him approach.

“But what if you use both of their blood?” he said, gesturing between her and Nikolas. “Together.”

The witch doctor paused, her brow furrowing as she considered. Her fingers tapped absently against the edge of the mixing bowl, lips pursed in thought.

Finn stepped closer, urgency in his voice. “They’re true mates. Nikolas is a royal dragon, and Saphira, she’s not just any dragon. We’ve seen what she can do. Her abilities, her connection to her dragon is different… it’s worth a try.”

Saphira glanced at Nikolas, who was already watching her, his gaze steady and unreadable. She could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on them all.

Before the doctor could respond, another healer called out from the table. “She’s declining fast. Her vitals are dropping again!”

Saphira stepped forward, her voice fierce and unwavering. “Try it. Now.”

Nikolas nodded, already rolling up his sleeve. “Finn’s right. Our blood together might be strong enough.”

The doctor snapped into motion. “Two blood sets. Quickly!”

A healer rushed over with fresh phlebotomy kits and vials. Saphira offered her arm without hesitation, her other hand trembling as she gripped the edge of the table to steady herself. Nikolas stood beside her, calm and resolute, his gaze locked on hers. She could feel the warmth of him, the steadiness.

The needles slid in. Blood flowed, hers and Nikolas' shimmering together. The vials were handed off to the witch doctor, who immediately began mixing them with the remaining ingredients. Her hands moved faster this time, magic swirling in tight spirals around her wrists, her lips murmuring incantations under her breath.

The mixture hissed, then pulsed with light, brighter than before. The bowl glowed violet-gold, the colour deepening as the blood fused, magic crackling in the air like electricity.

But before the antidote could be administered, the monitor flatlined again.

“No!” Saphira gasped, her voice breaking as she surged forward.

The doctors rushed into action. One grabbed the vial, another climbed onto the table, pressing down hard on Anastasia’s chest. CPR began again, frantic and rhythmic. The antidote was injected swiftly, magic flaring as it entered her bloodstream. Spells were whispered, hands glowing, the room thick with tension.

Saphira stood frozen, tears streaming down her face. Asher was beside her, his hand clenched into a fist, his eyes locked on his motherss' unmoving form.

*I can’t lose her. Not again. Not like this. Not because of him. Not because of Lupus.*

Nikolas stepped beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him, her body trembling, her heart aching.

Finn and Amara stood close, silent support radiating from them, their eyes fixed on the table.

Saphira’s voice was barely a whisper, raw and broken. “I can’t lose her.”

Nikolas didn’t speak. He pressed a kiss to her temple, holding her tighter, being there for her in the storm.

And together, they waited.

Time stretched unbearably. Every second felt like an hour as Saphira stood beside Anastasia’s bed, her eyes locked on the monitor. The flatline had passed, but the pulse was back but still faint. A fragile rhythm, like a whisper in the dark. The room had gone quiet, the kind of silence that held its breath and refused to hope.

Saphira’s fingers curled around the edge of the bed, her knuckles white. *Please*, she thought, her heart aching. *Please come back.*

A flicker on the screen. A strong heartbeat. Then another. The rhythm began to build, slow but steady. Anastasia’s vitals ticked upward. Her breathing deepened, her chest rising with more strength. Her skin, once pale and cold, began to regain a hint of warmth.

Saphira’s breath caught in her throat. She turned to Nikolas, her heart thudding. She didn’t want to get her hopes up, but she couldn’t ignore the light in his eyes. That quiet, radiant hope that mirrored her own.

She looked to Asher. He had the same look. His lips parted, his eyes wide, disbelief and relief battling across his face. His hand trembled slightly where it rested near Anastasia’s arm.

Saphira held her breath as the lead doctor turned to them, her voice firm but trembling with emotion. “It’s working. The effects of the poison are reversing. At this rate… it won’t be long before she wakes up.”

Saphira let out her breath in a rush, her shoulders sagging. Her knees nearly buckled with the release of tension. Tears spilled freely down her cheeks, but this time they weren’t from fear, they were from joy.

Asher pulled her into a hug, his arms tight around her. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice thick. “You and Nikolas… you saved her.”

Saphira nodded against his shoulder, unable to speak. Her throat was too tight, her heart too full. When they pulled apart, she turned to Finn and Amara, wrapping them both in a grateful embrace. Finn squeezed her hand, his eyes shining, and Amara kissed her cheek gently before they moved to hug Asher.

Saphira returned to Nikolas, stepping into his arms. He held her close, his chin resting lightly on her head, his breath steady against her hair. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself feel the safety of him, the quiet strength.

And then a soft sound. A cough. A breath. A whisper.

Saphira’s eyes snapped open. She turned sharply toward the bed.

Anastasia’s eyes fluttered open, hazy but focused. Her gaze moved slowly, then locked onto Asher and Saphira. Her lips parted, her voice barely audible. “I’m sorry…”

Saphira and Asher rushed to her side, hands reaching for hers. Saphira’s fingers curled around her mother’s, careful and gentle.

“Don’t be sorry,” Asher said quickly, his voice thick with emotion. “No one could’ve predicted this. I’m just… I’m so happy you’re okay.”

Saphira nodded, brushing Anastasia’s hair back from her forehead with trembling fingers. “Thank you. You saved my life. If that dagger had hit my throat…”

Anastasia squeezed her hand, her grip weak but warm. “I’d do it again,” she whispered. “In a heartbeat. For both my children.”

Saphira leaned down, her tears falling freely now. She hugged her mother gently, careful not to hurt her. Her voice was soft, trembling, full of everything she’d held back.

“I love you, Mum.”

Anastasia closed her eyes, a faint smile on her lips. “I love you too, my daughter.”