The Matchmaker - The Arrax Saga Book 1 Chapter 227

The room was cloaked in darkness, curtains drawn tight, the air heavy with sorrow. Saphira sat beside Asher, her hand resting lightly on his arm. His shoulders shook, his face buried in his hands, grief spilling out in ragged, uneven breaths.

She stayed with him, silent, until his sobs softened into shuddering silence. Only then did she speak, her voice low, steady. “You don’t have to hide from us, Asher. Not from me. Not from the pack.”

He lifted his head slowly, his eyes red-rimmed, hollow. “I can’t face them,” he whispered. “Every time I see their faces, I remember what I lost. What we lost.”

Saphira’s chest ached, but she leaned closer, her tone gentle yet firm. “You lost her. We all did. But if you stay here, locked away, you’ll lose yourself too. And we need you. I need you.”

His jaw tightened, his voice breaking. “What if I fall apart in front of them?”

“Then you fall apart,” she said softly, her hand tightening on his arm. “And we’ll hold you. Just like they held me.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy but fragile. Slowly, his fists unclenched. His hand trembled as he let her take it.

Saphira squeezed gently. “Come with me. Just for a little while. Let them see you. Let them remind you you’re not alone.”

He hesitated, his breath uneven, but finally gave a faint nod.

Together, they rose. Saphira opened the door, and the dim light of the corridor spilled into the room. Asher blinked against it, his steps unsteady, but he followed her.

When they reached the courtyard, heads turned. The pack paused in their quiet work, healers still tending to the wounded, warriors sharpening blades, witches murmuring spells. The silence that followed was not judgment, but recognition.

Jed crossed the space first, clasping Asher’s shoulder firmly. “I’m sorry,” he said simply, his voice thick with emotion. “We are with you through this.”

Raven followed, her own grief still raw. She touched Asher’s arm with quiet solidarity. “We all will,” she murmured. “Let us help.”

Asher’s breath shuddered, but he stayed.

Saphira watched as the pack closed in, not smothering, not demanding, but surrounding him with presence. A wall of strength, grief, and belonging.

For the first time since the funeral, Asher’s shoulders eased. His grief was still raw, but he was no longer alone in it.

Saphira stood beside him, her hand brushing his, her voice quiet but certain. “We are your family. They are your family. And family… stick together.”

Zafira appeared from the far side of the courtyard, her eyes widening as she caught sight of Asher. Her breath hitched. “Asher…” she whispered, shock breaking across her face. She rushed forward, wrapping her arms tightly around him.

At first, he stiffened, his body rigid, but then, slowly, he let himself lean into her embrace. His arms came up, hesitant but real, holding her back.

Tears glistened in Zafira’s eyes as she pulled back just enough to look at him. “I thought you’d never come out,” she murmured, her voice trembling. Then she turned to Saphira, her lips forming a silent thank you.

Saphira gave a small, knowing smile and nodded in recognition, her chest aching but warmed by the sight.

Finn approached next, his expression solemn but kind. Without hesitation, he pulled both Saphira and Asher into a firm hug, his voice low and steady. “I’m so sorry,” he said quietly. “She was… she was incredible. Even in the short time I knew her, she felt like the pack’s mother. She made us all feel safe.”

Amara followed, her own eyes red but determined. She embraced them both, her voice trembling but clear. “She made such an impact. I’ll never forget her. None of us will. She gave us strength when we didn’t even know we needed it.”

Saphira drew a breath, steadying herself. She looked at Jed, Raven, Asher, Zafira, Finn, and Amara, their faces turned toward her, waiting, expectant.

“Tomorrow morning,” she said, her voice strong though her chest ached, “Nikolas and I are leaving to figure out and sort the Matchmaker. There are still people inside, too scared to leave. We need to go. We need to lead.”

Her gaze swept across them, steady and inviting. “If any of you want to volunteer, meet us in the office after dinner. We’ll be sorting a process then.”

They exchanged glances, some nodding faintly, others still deep in thought. One by one, they answered quietly.

“Okay.”

The circle loosened, each of them drifting back to their own tasks.

Saphira lingered for a moment, watching them go, her heart heavy but steadier than before. Then she turned, her steps purposeful, heading to find Nikolas.

Saphira found Nikolas in the office, the firelight catching against his profile as he studied a map spread across the table. He looked up the moment she entered, his eyes searching hers.

“How did it go?” he asked quietly, already reading the weight in her shoulders. “How is Asher?”

Saphira stepped closer, her voice soft. “He is getting there, he was locked in his room in darkness. Zafira was shocked to see him out of his room, but everyone was supportive, its what he needs.” A faint smile touched her lips. “Finn and Amara too. They both said how much Anastasia meant to them, even in the short time they knew her. They called her the pack’s mother.”

Nikolas’s expression softened, his hand brushing hers across the table. “She was. And now they’re remembering her the way she deserves.”

Saphira nodded, her chest tight but steadier. “I told them about tomorrow. About the Matchmaker. I asked for volunteers to meet us after dinner.”

Nikolas’s brows lifted slightly. “And?”

“They’ll think about it,” she said. “Some nodded. Some just… needed time. But I think they’ll come.”

Nikolas squeezed her hand. “You did well. You gave them a purpose.”

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then Nikolas straightened, his voice gentling. “Come. Let’s eat. We’ll need our strength for tomorrow.”

Saphira exhaled, the weight of the day pressing down but softened by his presence. She nodded. “Dinner, then.”

Together, they left the office, their steps side by side, heading toward the great dining chamber where the pack was already gathering. The scent of bread and stew drifted through the corridors, mingling with the low hum of voices.

For the first time since the funeral, Saphira felt the faintest thread of normalcy, fragile, but real. And with Nikolas beside her, she let herself believe they could carry it forward.