The Matchmaker - The Arrax Saga Book 1 Chapter 202

The hallway was quiet, the laughter from the games room fading into memory. Saphira padded barefoot toward her room, the soft fabric of her sweater brushing her arms. Her body was tired, but her spirit felt lighter, like something had been loosened inside her, just enough to breathe.

She pushed open the door gently.

Nikolas was already there, sitting on the edge of the bed, his shirt half-unbuttoned, showing the sculpted lines of his chest. He looked up as she entered, and his expression softened instantly.

“Hey,” he said, voice low and warm.

Saphira smiled, closing the door behind her. “Hey yourself.”

She crossed the room, settling beside him, her thigh brushing his. The warmth of him seeped into her skin. “How was lads night?”

Nikolas exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Started light. Ended up heavy. We ended up talking about the Matchmaker. Speculating about what it would take to take it over. How difficult it’ll be.”

Saphira leaned back on her hands, watching the way his jaw tightened. “And?”

He glanced at her, eyes shadowed. “Apparently some of the pack members are starting to doubt we can do it. That it’s too big. Too entrenched.”

She frowned, her fingers brushing his knee. “Do you think they’re right?”

Nikolas shook his head slowly. “No. Something inside me keeps saying we can. I don’t know how yet. But I feel it.”

Saphira nodded, her voice quiet. “I feel it too. Even knowing how hard it’ll be.”

She paused, then added, “I just hope Jed can get information quickly. Before anything else happens.”

Nikolas reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers. “I’m confident he will. One thing Jed’s good at is getting information.”

Saphira looked down at their joined hands, then up at him. “I hope you’re right. We need this.”

“I’m usually right,” he said, smirking, playfully nudging her shoulder.

She rolled her eyes, but her smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “You’re insufferable.”

“You’re obsessed with me,” he countered, leaning in.

“Delusional,” she whispered, but didn’t pull away.

He kissed her cheek, slow and deliberate, then rested his forehead against hers. “You smell like lavender.”

“A new shampoo I got from Amara,” she murmured. “She’s been experimenting.”

Nikolas chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You look relaxed.”

“I am,” she said. “For now.”

They sat like that for a moment, quietly, the weight of the world held at bay.

Then Saphira nudged him gently. “Come on. Bed.”

Nikolas grinned and stood, pulling the blanket back. “I like that idea.”

Saphira climbed in beside him, curling into the warmth of the sheets. He followed, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close until her back rested against his chest. His breath was warm against her neck.

She turned slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. “Stay close tonight.”

“Always,” he whispered, brushing his lips against her temple.

She reached up, fingers tracing the edge of his jaw, then leaned in and kissed him. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t about escape. It was about being together. About choosing each other again, even in the quiet.

Nikolas deepened the kiss, his hand sliding up her stomach, fingers splaying gently between her breasts. Saphira melted into him, her breath catching as the warmth between them bloomed into something steamy.

When they finally pulled apart, she rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“I love you,” she murmured.

“I know,” he said, voice low. “I love you too.”

They settled into the quiet, limbs tangled, hearts beating as one.

Saphira slept deeply, her body curled against Nikolas, the quiet rhythm of his breath helping to pull her into a deep sleep. Her mind started to drifted elsewhere, into the space where flame met shadow, where memory and magic blurred.

The dream began in silence.

She stood in a vast chamber carved from obsidian and moonstone. The walls pulsed faintly, as if alive, and the air shimmered with suspended ash. Above her, a ceiling of stars stretched endlessly, constellations rearranging themselves into runes she couldn’t yet read.

Vaelora stood at the centre.

Not as a dragon. Not as a shadow as she was before.

But as a woman.

Tall, regal, cloaked in flame and silver. Her eyes were molten gold, her hair a cascade of smoke and light. She didn’t speak at first. She simply watched Saphira, her gaze unreadable.

Saphira stepped forward, her voice echoing in the chamber. “Why did you choose me?”

Vaelora tilted her head. “I didn’t.”

Saphira’s breath caught. “Then what am I?”

Vaelora raised her hand, and the chamber shifted. The walls melted into memory. A child with silver eyes. A dragon curled around a cradle. A crown shattered into three pieces. A voice whispering, *She is not born. She is made.*

“You were forged,” Vaelora said. “Not by blood. By bond. By choice. By fire.”

Saphira’s heart pounded. “Forged for what?”

Vaelora stepped closer, her voice low, reverent. “There was once a line of true royals. Not rulers of land. Rulers of balance. Of magic. Of unity. They were protectors. Anchors. But they were broken. Scattered. Hidden.”

The chamber shifted again. A second figure appeared, Nikolas. Not as he was now, but younger, cloaked in shadow and silver light. A crown hovered above him, flickering in and out of existence.

“He is of royal blood,” Vaelora said. “But blood alone is not enough. It must be awakened by an ancient bond.”

Saphira’s breath stilled. “And we did that?”

Vaelora nodded. “Together. When one stood on the edge of death, the other refused to break. And in that refusal, the hidden bond ignited. Not just between you, but within you.”

Saphira looked at Nikolas’s image, then back at Vaelora. “Vorthar hasn’t told him this yet, has he?”

“He will,” Vaelora said. “His truth is his to speak. Everything is already unfolding and now you needed to know.”

The chamber lit with symbols, three interlocking circles, one burning, one bleeding, one hollow. Flame surged around Saphira’s chest, not burning, but illuminating. She felt it then. The pulse. The calling. The legacy.

“This was written long before you were born,” Vaelora whispered. “You were meant to ignite this new form. It is your destiny… and Nikolas’, together as one.”

Saphira’s voice trembled. “Why, what does it mean for our future?”

Vaelora’s gaze softened. “That answer is yours to find. Together.”

The dream began to fade, the stars dimming, the symbols dissolving into mist.

Vaelora’s voice echoed one last time.

*This is only the beginning.*