The Matchmaker - The Arrax Saga Book 1 Chapter 195

The clash of battle still echoed through the ruins, shouts, snarls, the crackle of spells, but something shifted.

Saphira felt it first.

A ripple in the air. A pressure behind her eyes, like a storm gathering just out of sight. Vaelora stirred inside her, alert and coiled. *‘They’re here,’* the dragon murmured, her voice low and taut.

Saphira straightened, her breath catching. The hairs on her arms rose. Magic thickened around her, heavy and ancient.

Nikolas turned sharply, his dragon form tense, wings half-furled and gleaming. In a flash he shifted back, boots striking the stone beside her.

Then they stepped through.

The Elders.

Six figures cloaked in shadow and power. The vampire with silver-threaded hair moved like silk, his eyes gleaming with cold amusement. The witch with the twisted staff gripped it tightly, her fingers bone-white. The wolf Elder who had mocked Nikolas bared his teeth, his stance aggressive. And three others, one hooded, his face hidden in shadow, and two others bare-faced and smiling, the kind of smile that didn’t reach the eyes. One of each kind, Wolf, Witch and Vampire.

Saphira’s breath caught. Her fists clenched at her sides, nails biting into her palms. Her heart thudded, not with fear, but with fury.

Nikolas stepped forward, his voice low and steady. “You ran.”

The vampire tilted his head, lips curling. “We repositioned.”

“You’re cornered,” Saphira said, her voice sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade. “Your pack is falling. Your magic is unravelling.”

The witch laughed softly, the sound brittle and cruel. “You think this is the end? You think you’ve won?”

Nikolas didn’t blink. “I think you’re afraid.”

The wolf Elder snarled, stepping forward, his claws half-shifted. “You should’ve died, Arrax. That poison was meant to finish you.”

Nikolas’s jaw tightened. “You underestimated what and who I am.”

The hooded Elder finally spoke, his voice low and resonant, like stone grinding against stone. “You are changed. But change doesn’t make you invincible.”

Saphira felt Vaelora pulse inside her, a flare of heat and warning. *‘They’re stalling,’* the dragon whispered. *‘They’re preparing something.’*

Saphira’s gaze flicked to the witch’s staff, to the subtle shimmer around the vampire’s hands, to the way the hooded one hadn’t moved at all. Her instincts screamed.

Nikolas glanced at her, just once. A silent exchange. A question. A promise.

Saphira nodded.

“No more words,” Nikolas said.

And he lunged.

His body blurred into motion, as he slammed into the wolf Elder with bone-cracking force. The impact sent both of them crashing into a shattered column, stone exploding outward in a cloud of dust and debris. The Elder snarled mid-air, shifting fully into his wolf form, his claws extended. He raked across Nikolas’s shoulder, drawing blood, but Nikolas twisted, his dragon form erupting in a flash of fury. His tail whipped around with brutal precision, catching the Elder across the ribs and sending him skidding across the stone.

Saphira didn’t hesitate.

The witch raised her staff, lips curling into a cruel smile. Runes flared along the gnarled wood, pulsing with dark magic. A spear of shadow shot toward Saphira, fast and sharp.

She dove to the side, the spell grazing her arm with a hiss of heat. Pain lanced through her, but she rolled to her feet, breath sharp, eyes blazing. Vaelora surged inside her, a shield of fire blooming across her skin, crackling with protective fury.

*‘She’s fast,’* Saphira thought, circling. *‘And she’s watching my mind. Probing.’*

*‘Then close the door,’* Vaelora growled. *‘Let her see nothing but flame.’*

The witch struck again, this time with a wide arc of shadow that split the air like a blade. Saphira leapt over it, twisting mid-air. She landed hard, boots skidding across gravel, and charged. She feinted left, then pivoted sharply and slammed her fist into the witch’s ribs.

The woman gasped, stumbling back, but her staff flared again. A psychic wave burst from it, invisible but brutal, slamming into Saphira’s chest.

Her vision blurred.

She saw herself, alone, bleeding, Nikolas gone, the pack shattered. The ruins empty. Her hands soaked in blood.

“No,” she snarled aloud, voice raw. “You don’t get to rewrite me like you did Zafira.”

‘They won’t rewrite us.’ Vaelora roared inside her, and the illusion cracked like glass. Saphira surged forward, grabbed the staff with both hands, and twisted it from the witch’s grip. The woman shrieked, claws lashing out in desperation, but Saphira ducked low and drove her knee into the witch’s stomach with a sickening crunch.

The witch crumpled, groaning, her breath knocked out.

Across the ruins, Nikolas and the wolf Elder clashed like titans.

The Elder was enormous in wolf form, fur bristling, eyes wild with rage. He lunged again, jaws snapping, but Nikolas met him head-on. Claws locked with claws, wings flared, and they rolled across the stone, tail and limbs tangling in a blur of fury. Each strike echoed like thunder, shaking the broken walls.

Nikolas roared, whipping his tail with such force it was like a radiant shockwave. The Elder howled in pain, thrown backward into a wall with a crunch of bone and stone.

Saphira turned, chest heaving, blood pounding in her ears. The witch lay groaning at her feet, magic flickering weakly around her fingers.

Then the air shifted.

Saphira felt it like a blade down her spine.

She turned.

The vampire Elder stepped forward from the mist, robes untouched by battle, silver-threaded hair gleaming like moonlight. His presence warped the air around him, too still, too clean. His eyes locked onto hers.

“Well,” he said, voice smooth as silk. “You’ve grown bold, Saphira.”

Saphira straightened, blood pounding in her ears. Her fingers curled into fists. “Bold enough to end you.”

He smiled, slow and deliberate. “I doubt that.”

Then he moved.

Faster than thought, faster than breath, one moment he stood before her, the next he was behind her. Saphira spun, barely catching the blur of motion, her elbow grazing his chest as she twisted away. He struck with surgical precision, fingers like blades, aimed for her throat.

Vaelora surged.

A shield of flame erupted around Saphira, a radiant flare that forced the vampire back with a hiss. He landed lightly, boots barely touching stone, eyes gleaming with interest.

“Dragon fire,” he murmured. “No longer extinct I see.”

Saphira didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure what Vaelora had just done, but it felt ancient and powerful, like something buried deep had awakened. She lunged.

Their clash was a dance.

He moved like smoke, vanishing and reappearing, striking from impossible angles. Saphira countered with fury, her fists glowing, her body a conduit of flame and instinct. Her mind locked tight, resisting the subtle pressure pressing inward.

*Someone’s trying to get in again,* she thought, teeth gritted. *To unravel me.*

*‘Let them try,’* Vaelora growled. *‘We are not prey.’*

The vampire feinted, then struck again, this time with a burst of shadow that wrapped around her legs like chains. Saphira dropped low, slicing through it with a flare of fire, then drove her palm into his chest with a crack of impact.

He staggered.

Just slightly.

Enough.

Saphira pressed forward, eyes blazing. “The time of the Elders is over.”