The Matchmaker - The Arrax Saga Book 1 Chapter 198

The ruins were quiet now.

Not the tense silence of waiting, but the hollow stillness that follows a storm. The Elders lay scattered, their magic broken, their bodies still. Smoke curled from shattered stone, and the air pulsed with the fading echoes of fire and silver.

Saphira’s breath was shallow, her limbs heavy. The power she’d wielded still hummed beneath her skin, but it no longer surged, it settled. Vaelora was quiet inside her, not withdrawn, but resting.

Nikolas stepped beside her, his silver light dimmed to a soft glow. His gaze swept the battlefield, then landed on her. He didn’t speak, but his presence was felt deep. Familiar. Fierce.

They moved together, checking the pack.

Finn crouched beside Jasper, wrapping a bandage around his arm. Zafira leaned against a broken pillar, her dragon form half-shifted, wings drooping with fatigue. Raven sat cross-legged, her hands trembling as she traced runes into the dirt, trying to stabilize the lingering magic. Jed and Anastasia were helping Asher to his feet, all three bruised but breathing.

Saphira knelt beside Talia, who had a gash across her ribs. “You’re okay,” she murmured, pressing a hand to the wound, letting a flicker of flame cauterize it gently. Talia winced, then nodded, eyes glassy with exhaustion.

Nikolas moved through the pack with quiet efficiency, checking pulses, offering steady hands, exchanging brief nods. No one spoke much. They didn’t need to.

The bond between them had changed.

Not just Saphira and Nikolas, but all of them. The fight had stripped them down, burned away the last remnants of fear. What remained was raw, real. A unity forged in fire.

Saphira turned to Nikolas as the last of the wounded were tended. Her voice was low. “We need to go home.”

He nodded. “They need rest. We all do.”

She looked around one last time, the ruins, the broken stone, the place where the Elders had fallen. It felt like the end of something. And the beginning of something else.

Nikolas reached for her hand.

She took it.

Together, they led the Arrax pack out of the ruins. The forest waited beyond, quiet and vast. The wind stirred the leaves gently, as if welcoming them back.

And as they walked, Saphira felt the weight of everything they’d survived.

But more than that, she felt the strength of what they’d become.

Saphira walked at the front of the pack, her boots heavy with exhaustion, her flame quiet but steady. Nikolas was beside her. Behind them, the Arrax pack moved in silence, bruised, bloodied, but whole.

When the first lookouts spotted them from the ridge, the signal went out instantly. By the time they reached the edge of the compound, everyone had gathered, lined the path waiting with anticipation. Relief rippled through the crowd like wind through leaves.

They were home.

Saphira barely registered the cheers. Her focus was on the faces, on the way people reached for each other, clutched hands, whispered names. She saw the way Raven leaned into Jed, how Finn gave a nod to the warriors without speaking, how Zafira was being supported by Asher, the fight taking more out of her than most.

Healers rushed forward.

Saphira let them guide her to a bench near the courtyard fountain, where warm light spilled from the lanterns overhead. A healer pressed cool fingers to her wrist, murmuring a diagnostic spell. Another dabbed salve onto the burn on her arm. She barely felt it.

Nikolas stood nearby, his gaze sweeping the pack as each member was checked, Asher’s shoulder wrapped, Talia’s ribs bound, Sam’s leg stabilized. Jed refused help at first, but relented when Raven glared at him. Zafira sat cross-legged on the stone, letting a healer tend to the gash across her thigh.

When the last wound was seen to, Nikolas stepped forward.

He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.

“We’ll regroup in two days,” he said, eyes scanning the circle of familiar faces—Jed, Zafira, Asher, Finn, Jasper, Raven, Talia, Sam. “We need to track the aftermath of the Elders’ fall. See what’s shifted. What’s broken. What’s waiting.”

He paused. “And then we stop the Matchmaker. Once and for all.”

No one spoke. But the air thickened with resolve.

Zafira tilted her head, her voice quiet but clear. “What did you both become out there?”

Saphira glanced at Nikolas. He met her gaze, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

“We’re not sure,” Saphira said finally. “Not yet.”

Nikolas nodded. “But when we figure it out, you’ll be the first to know.”

Zafira accepted that with a nod, her eyes thoughtful.

The pack began to disperse, slow and quiet. Some limped. Some leaned on each other. Some walked alone, heads bowed, hearts heavy. But none were broken and that was the most important thing.

Saphira and Nikolas turned toward the main hall, their steps in sync. The corridor was dim, the lanterns low. When they reached their room, Saphira paused at the door, her hand resting on the frame. Then she stepped inside.

Nikolas followed, closing the door behind them.

The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the lantern near the window. Saphira sat on the edge of the bed, her boots discarded, her fingers absently tracing the edge of the blanket. Her body ached, but it was the kind of ache that came with survival, earned, not endured.

Nikolas stepped out of the washroom, his shirt loose, silver light still faintly pulsing beneath his skin. He didn’t speak. He just crossed the room and sat beside her, close enough that their shoulders touched.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Saphira leaned into him slowly, her head resting against his shoulder. His arm came around her without hesitation. She closed her eyes, letting herself feel the quiet, the absence of battle, the presence of him.

“I didn’t think we’d make it,” she whispered.

Nikolas didn’t answer right away. His thumb brushed lightly across her arm, causing goosebumps to form. “I did,” he said softly. “Because you were there.”

She turned her face toward him, just enough to meet his eyes. They were tired, but clear. Fierce. Familiar.

“I don’t know what we are now,” she murmured. “What we became.”

He nodded. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Saphira reached up, fingers brushing the edge of his jaw. He leaned into the touch, eyes closing briefly. Then he kissed her forehead.

She exhaled.

And for the first time in days, she let herself feel safe.

They lay back together, the blankets pulled around them, the world quiet outside their door. No words. Just breath. Just warmth. Just them.