The Matchmaker - The Arrax Saga Book 1 Chapter 226

Two days had passed, and the pack was moving with the slow rhythm of recovery. The courtyard was filled with the quiet hum of healers tending wounds, their hands glowing with soft magic, their voices low and soothing. Saphira stood among them, speaking gently, when Raven approached.

Her face was pale, her eyes unsettled in a way Saphira had rarely seen.

“She’s here,” Raven said, her voice low but urgent. “The witch who helped us with the spell. She wants to speak.”

Saphira’s chest tightened. She nodded once. “Bring her.”

They met in the packs office, the witch stood waiting, silver-haired, her presence sharp yet calm, eyes that seemed to pierce through everything.

“My name is Circe,” she said, her voice steady, carrying weight.

Saphira studied her, the memory of the spell still raw in her veins. “Why did you approach us before? And how were you there at the Matchmaker?”

Circe’s gaze flicked between them. “I was tracking you. The pack. The strength you carried. I needed to be sure, that the pack who took in my little sister was worth joining. Worth creating a new line of power amongst the supernatural world.”

Saphira’s breath caught. “Your little sister?”

Circe’s eyes softened. “Raven.”

The word hung in the air like a blade. Raven froze, her lips parting, her eyes wide. “What?” she whispered.

Circe stepped closer, her voice gentler now. “We are the last true Elder-born witches.”

Saphira had never seen Raven like this, speechless, her composure shattered.

Raven’s voice finally broke through, trembling. “Our parents…?”

Circe’s expression darkened. “Killed. By our old coven, the same one that banished us both.”

Raven’s breath hitched, her hands curling into fists. Saphira felt the shock ripple through her.

“Why?” Saphira asked softly, her voice steady where Raven’s faltered.

Circe’s gaze held hers. “Our parents were Elders. And Elders were forbidden to engage in romance, forbidden to take mates. They broke the rules. The coven bided their time until they had proof. By the time they did, we were born. They killed our parents, but it was illegal to kill children. So, they banished us, separately. They didn’t want us to find each other. But I remembered, I remember everything.”

Raven’s voice rose, sharp with anger. “They can’t get away with it. They can’t.”

Circe’s eyes glinted, calm but fierce. “They haven’t. The last of that coven were part of the Core. Once Saphira destroyed them, the coven was gone. And when you helped her control the spell, Raven, you took part in their end. You got your revenge, without even knowing it.”

Silence filled the chamber. Raven’s chest heaved, her eyes burning with fury and grief. Saphira reached for her hand.

For the first time, Raven didn’t pull away.

Circe’s gaze softened as she looked at Raven. “Now, you are not alone. We are sisters. And we are finally together.”

Saphira held Raven’s hand tighter, her own heart aching. She had seen Raven fierce, defiant, unyielding, but never like this. Never broken open.

Saphira’s gaze lingered on Raven and Circe, the shock still etched across Raven’s face. She reached for Raven’s hand one last time, squeezing gently. “I’ll give you both some space,” she said softly. “You need time to figure this out. I will be here when you need me.”

Raven nodded faintly, her eyes distant, and Circe’s expression softened in quiet understanding.

Saphira slipped from the chamber, her steps quick but heavy, until she found Nikolas waiting in the outer hall. He turned at once, his eyes searching hers, reading the tension in her shoulders.

“The witch that helped us, she told us her name,” Saphira said, her voice low, still carrying the weight of revelation. “Circe. She’s Raven’s sister. They are elder-born. She remembered everything about what happened to them as children, to their parents.”

Nikolas’s brows lifted, but he didn’t interrupt. He let her spill the words, then placed a steady hand on her arm. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting that. But I am glad Raven has some family left.” Nikolas put his arm around Saphira’s waist. “I’ve just heard from the warriors at the Matchmaker,” he said, his tone grave. “They found a room. Thousands of vials, the poison the Elders created. It was part of the initiation rooms. They were using them to eliminate mixed species.”

Saphira’s breath caught, her stomach twisting. “Thousands?” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Nikolas nodded, his jaw tight. “And mass graves. Hidden beneath the chambers.”

Her chest clenched, the horror pressing against her ribs. She shook her head, her voice fierce. “We need to destroy them. Every vial. Every trace. No one should ever touch that poison again.”

“We will,” Nikolas assured her, his hand tightening on her arm. “But I want to witness it. To be sure it’s gone.”

Saphira met his gaze, her own steady despite the ache inside. “Then I’ll see it too. I need to.”

Nikolas’s hand brushed hers. “There are still participants inside the Matchmaker,” he continued, his voice softer now. “Too scared to leave. They need a leader. They need us.”

Saphira drew a breath, her throat tight but her resolve firm. “Then we’ll go. We’ll sort it out. But first…” Her voice faltered, softer now. “I need to speak to Asher. I haven’t seen him since the funeral. I’m worried about him.”

Nikolas nodded, his expression gentling. “I haven’t seen him either actually, he needs you.”

She exhaled. “Tomorrow, then. We go to the Matchmaker. But we’ll need a team.”

Nikolas’s lips curved faintly, though his eyes remained serious. “Luckily, we have a good group around us to choose from.”

Saphira’s chest tightened again, but this time it wasn’t grief, it was determination. She nodded, her hand brushing against his as they stood together in the hall.

“Tomorrow,” she whispered.

Nikolas squeezed her hand. “Tomorrow.”

And together, they stood in the silence, knowing the shadows still waited. But tonight, she would find Asher.

Saphira moved through the quiet corridors, her footsteps echoing softly against the stone. She stopped outside Asher’s door, her hand hovering over the wood. It was shut tight, the silence behind it heavy, suffocating.

She knocked once. No answer.

Her chest tightened. She pushed the door open.

The room was dark, curtains drawn, the air thick with grief. Asher sat hunched in the corner, his shoulders bowed, his face buried in his hands. He didn’t look up when she entered.

“Asher,” she whispered, her voice gentle, carrying the weight of worry.

He flinched at the sound but didn’t move. His breath came ragged, uneven, and the sight of him, so strong, now broken, made her heart ache.

Saphira crossed the room slowly, kneeling beside him. She didn’t speak again. She simply laid a hand on his arm, steady and warm, offering presence where words would fail.

For a long moment, there was only silence. Then, his shoulders shook, and the grief he had locked away spilled out in quiet sobs.

Saphira stayed with him in the darkness, holding him there, until the weight of his sorrow began to ease, just enough for him to breathe.