The Matchmaker - The Arrax Saga Book 1 Chapter 197

The air trembled.

Saphira stood beside Nikolas, her body still humming with the power they’d just unleashed. The shattered remnants of the Elder witch’s spell flickered across the stone like dying embers, faint, fading, but still dangerous. Her breath came fast, but steady. Vaelora pulsed inside her, not roaring now, but coiled, watchful, like a dragon crouched in the dark, waiting to strike.

Across the ruins, the Elders regrouped.

The vampire who had fought her stepped back into formation, blood trailing from his mouth, his silver-threaded hair tousled, his cloak torn at the shoulder. But his eyes were still sharp. The second vampire joined him, one arm scorched, his movements stiff, but his stance unshaken. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. Their silence was a promise.

The wolf Elder Nikolas had defeated stirred, barely conscious, dragged upright by the leaner, quieter wolf who had yet to fight. His eyes locked onto Nikolas with cold fury, lips curled in a silent snarl. He was wounded, but not done.

And then she stepped forward.

Another Elder witch.

Taller than the first. Her robes shimmered with enchantments layered so densely they distorted the air around her, like heat waves rising from stone. Her staff was carved from obsidian, etched with runes that pulsed in rhythm with the earth itself. Her eyes were not cruel. They were calm. Measured. Terrifying.

Saphira felt the shift immediately.

The ruins didn’t darken from shadow, they darkened from pressure. Magic thickened around them, not wild but precise, like a net woven from centuries of control. The Elder witch raised her staff, and the ground beneath Saphira’s feet vibrated. A ring of light flared outward, encircling the Elders in a protective halo that shimmered with layered wards.

Nikolas stepped forward, claws half-shifted, silver fire flickering across his shoulders. His voice was low, steady. “You’re outmatched. You’ve lost your pack. Your tricks. Your grip.”

The witch didn’t answer.

She lifted her staff again.

A pulse of energy burst outward, not an attack, but a barrier. It expanded like a dome, shimmering with runes that twisted and locked into place. Saphira felt it seal around the Elders like a fortress, and lock the Arrax pack out.

The pack surged forward instinctively.

“They’re scared,” Saphira murmured, her voice tight.

“She’s stronger than the last witch,” Raven said, breathless. “She must be the most powerful Elder.”

Saphira’s heart pounded. She could feel the spell’s structure, not just pressure, but architecture. It was woven with blood magic, elemental force, and something older. Something that whispered in languages she didn’t recognize. Something that felt like it had been waiting.

Vaelora stirred inside her. *‘She’s not just a witch,’* her dragon murmured. *‘She’s a conduit. A vessel. Her power is borrowed, but deep.’*

Inside the dome, the Elders stood in formation, vampires flanking the witch, wolves crouched low, ready to strike. Their eyes gleamed with finality. This wasn’t desperation. It was design.

Saphira stepped forward, flame flickering at her fingertips. Her body was tense, but her mind was clear. Nikolas mirrored her, silver light pulsing from his chest, his gaze locked on the witch.

They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. They were ready.

The battlefield pulsed with tension.

Saphira stood at the centre of it all, flame flickering across her shoulders, her body still humming with the power she’d unlocked. Nikolas was beside her, silver light pulsing from his chest, his stance strong and ready. Around them, the Arrax pack waited, tense, bloodied, but unbroken.

Then the Elders moved.

The second vampire Elder vanished into mist, reappearing behind Zafira with a blade of shadow. Nikolas spun, tail sweeping wide, knocking him back before the strike could land. The first vampire lunged at Saphira, faster than before, his cloak trailing smoke. She ducked, flame erupting from her palms, driving him back.

The wolf Elders flanked them, one leaping from a broken column, jaws wide, the other circling low, eyes locked on Nikolas. Their movements were synchronized, their magic woven together. The Elder witch raised her staff, obsidian runes glowing, and slammed it into the earth.

The ground cracked.

A dome of pressure burst outward, slamming into the Arrax pack like a tidal wave. Finn staggered, claws digging into stone. Raven cast a counterspell, but it fizzled mid-air. Jed roared, wings flaring, but the dome held.

Saphira’s breath caught. The spell was older than anything she’d felt before, woven with blood, elemental force, and something deeper. Vaelora stirred inside her, coiled and ready.

*‘They’re not just fighting together anymore,’* Vaelora murmured. *‘They’ve become one spell. One will.’*

Nikolas met her gaze, he had heard what Vaelora had said. “Then we break it. Together.”

Saphira nodded, flame flaring around her fists. “Let’s end this.”

They moved as one.

Nikolas shifted mid-stride, silver fire bursting from his chest. His dragon form erupted in a flash, tail sweeping wide, knocking the circling wolf off his feet. Saphira vaulted over him, flame trailing her boots, and slammed into the second vampire, driving him back with a roar of heat.

The elder witch cast again, this time a binding spell, thick and ancient. It wrapped around Saphira’s limbs, dragging her down. She gasped, flame sputtering.

*‘Vaelora,’* she called inward. *‘Now.’*

The dragon surged.

Saphira’s flame erupted. She saw the structure of the spell, just like before, and felt the fault lines in its weave. She reached inward and pulled.

The binding shattered.

Nikolas roared, silver light pulsing. He caught the lunging wolf mid-air, slammed him down, and drove his claws into the Elder’s chest. The wolf howled, magic sputtering, and collapsed.

Saphira twisted, flame trailing her fists, and struck the vampire with a burst of heat that sent him crashing into the ruins. The second vampire lunged, but Nikolas intercepted, tail sweeping, claws raking. The vampire staggered, cloak torn, and fell.

The elder witch raised her staff again and Raven’s spell collided with it, cracking the outer layer of runes. Saphira saw the opening.

She charged.

Nikolas met her halfway. Their powers fused mid-strike slamming into the witch with a force that shattered stone. Her staff splintered and she screamed as the magic tore through her.

The dome completely shattered and the mist broke.

And the Elders fell.

One by one, they collapsed, wolves silenced, vampires broken, the witch’s staff reduced to ash. The ruins trembled, then stilled.

Saphira stood, breath heaving, flame flickering around her shoulders. Nikolas beside her, silver light still pulsing. The Arrax pack surged forward, surrounding them, eyes wide with awe and relief.

They had won, they had defeated the last of the Elders.

Together.

And the ruins, once a place of fear, now stood as a monument to what they had become.