The Matchmaker - The Arrax Saga Book 1 Chapter 174

Saphira finally slipped out from beneath the covers, the warmth of Nikolas’s arms lingering like a whisper on her skin. The morning had been slow, intimate, passionate, his touch still lingered along her spine, but now the pull in her chest to see Zafira was undeniable. It wasn’t logic. It wasn’t strategy. It was instinct.

*I don’t know why I feel this… but I need to see her.*

She dressed quietly, her fingers moving with practiced ease, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Her boots found the floor with soft thuds, and she stepped into the hallway, the air cooler than expected. A shiver ran down her arms, but she didn’t stop. The corridors were hushed, the kind of quiet that felt suspended in time, like the world was holding its breath.

As she approached Zafira’s door, her pace slowed. Her hand hovered for a moment before she knocked gently, the sound barely more than a whisper.

The door opened a few seconds later, and Asher stood there, his expression softening when he saw her. His hair was tousled, his shirt wrinkled, and the tiredness in his eyes was unmistakable.

“Hey,” he said, voice low. “What are you doing here?”

Saphira offered a small smile, her hands clasped loosely in front of her. “Is Zafira here?”

His face shifted, something in his eyes dimmed, and his shoulders dropped slightly. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “She is here.”

Saphira hesitated, then asked gently, “Would it be okay if I spent some time with her this morning? Alone?”

Asher studied her for a moment, his gaze searching hers. Then he nodded. “Of course.” He stepped aside, gesturing her in.

The room was dim, curtains drawn against the morning light. Zafira lay curled in bed, her legs pulled tightly to her chest, arms wrapped around them like armour. Her eyes were open but vacant, locked on a fixed point on the wall. The blankets were tangled around her, and her hair spilled across the pillow in dark waves, untouched and heavy.

Asher walked over, crouched beside her, and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her head. “I’ll be back later,” he murmured.

She didn’t blink. Didn’t move.

He gave Saphira a quiet nod and slipped out, the door clicking softly behind him.

Saphira moved slowly, her steps careful, and sat on the edge of the bed. She didn’t reach out, she gave Zafira her space.

“Hey,” she said softly. “How are you doing?”

No response.

Zafira didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. Just kept staring.

Saphira tried again, her voice a little firmer. “Zafira?”

Still nothing.

She exhaled slowly, then closed her eyes and reached out through the mind-link. *“Zafira. Please talk to me.”*

Silence stretched, long and taut. Then a whisper came through the link, fragile and raw. *“I’m a failure.”*

Saphira’s heart clenched. *“That’s not true.”*

*“It is,”* Zafira replied instantly. *“I’ve lost a part of myself. What’s the point… when what makes me whole is gone?”*

Saphira’s breath caught. She leaned in slightly, her voice gentle. *“Tell me what happened.”*

Zafira blinked. For the first time, her gaze shifted slowly toward Saphira. Her lips parted, and instead of mind-linking, she spoke aloud.

“My dragon became erratic,” she said, voice hoarse and brittle. “I struggled to keep control. She started to want to attack Arrax pack members, our family. It took everything in me to stop her.”

Saphira’s eyes widened. She sat up straighter, her pulse quickening. *Even I know that’s not normal. That’s not how dragons behave. That’s not how we’re wired.*

“And then…” Zafira’s voice cracked. “She cut the link. I haven’t felt her since.”

Saphira was stunned. In her short time as a dragon, one truth had been constant, dragons were loyal. Fiercely loyal. To their counterpart. To their pack. For a dragon to turn on their own… something was deeply wrong.

She reached out, placing a hand gently on Zafira’s arm. Her touch was light. “We’re going to figure this out. You’re not alone.”

Zafira didn’t respond, but her eyes didn’t drift away this time. They stayed on Saphira, tired, hollow, but present.

And that, Saphira thought, was a start.

Saphira sat quietly beside Zafira, her hand still resting lightly on her arm. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable. Zafira’s confession echoed in her mind, looping over and over.

*A dragon turning on her pack. Cutting the link. That’s not just pain… that’s rupture. That’s soul deep.*

Her gaze drifted to the floor, brows furrowed. She began mentally tracing the timeline, searching for cracks. *What could’ve caused it? Was it external? Magical? Emotional?*

She glanced at Zafira, who hadn’t moved. Her eyes were still distant, locked somewhere far beyond the room. Saphira leaned in slightly, her voice soft, thoughtful. “Zafira… when did it start? The shift in your dragon. When did she begin wanting to attack our own?”

Zafira blinked slowly, her lashes heavy. “While we were waiting for the second signal,” she murmured. “After the illusion fight stopped.”

Saphira’s breath caught. *The illusion spell.* Her mind raced. *Could it have triggered something? A side effect? A hidden layer? But if that were true… why didn’t anyone else feel it? Why only Zafira?*

She stared at the wall, her thoughts spiralling. *Was it a flaw in the spell? Or something in Zafira herself, some vulnerability, some fracture the magic slipped through?*

Then, a voice stirred inside her.

*‘You need to speak to her dragon,’* Vaelora said. *‘I can help.’*

Saphira’s eyes widened slightly. *‘How?’* she asked silently.

*‘I can sense her. She’s hurting. I can reach her if you let me then you take over.’*

Before Saphira could respond, Zafira shifted slightly beside her, her brows knitting together. “What are you thinking?” she asked, her voice cautious, confused.

Saphira blinked, realizing she’d gone quiet for too long. She turned to Zafira, her voice gentle but steady. “My dragon, she said we need to speak to yours. That she can help.”

Zafira sat up a little, her posture stiff with uncertainty. “You speak to her? How? Is that even possible?”

Saphira shook her head slowly, her fingers brushing Zafira’s wrist. “I don’t know. But she seems to think it is.”

Zafira’s eyes searched hers, wide and wary. “Why would she want to speak to her?”

Saphira hesitated. The truth felt delicate, like stepping onto thin ice. But Zafira’s voice broke through again, pleading. “Please. Just tell me.”