Chapter Five: Resistance and Fire

Five years had passed since the night the Tungsten wolves dragged Valia from Centaur chains. In those years, she had become one of them or at least, close enough to provoke their respect.

“You’ve been staring at Ligon’s butt for two hours now.” Roloveria’s eyes gleamed like moonlight on a lake, her tone thick with mischief.

Used to it. Valia didn’t even blink. “Well, drooling at delicious snack is a hobby I wouldn't give up for the world”

Laughter rippled around their circle. Even Ligon, towering near the smithy, shook his head before disappearing into one of the pack houses for repairs, his stride all business.

Moments later, his voice thundered across the courtyard. “We hunt at dusk. Prepare yourselves. No more lounging.”

Hunting days were her domain.

Valia’s wings, great emerald arches rippled outward, strong enough to break down trees. Each scale shimmered like tempered glass, shifting in color from deep forest green to crimson when the light kissed them. Veins of silver traced through the membranes.

Magnificicent as always, she dove from the sky like a meteor, her claws claiming the largest kills. The wolves worshipped her skills, and envied her all at once.

“Looks like I’ll be catching the biggest haul again,” she taunted, stretching her wings so they shimmered in the sunlight. “You all can just sit back and polish your fangs, princesses.”

Disgruntled growls met her challenge. It was ritual now. Wolves vowing vengeance then always losing.

Once, a wolf thought it wise to steal her stags.

He snuck into her room one night, hoping to outwit her and win his bet. Unfortunately for him, Valia was awake—testing a new combat move.

By morning, he was the test subject. The move was perfected, and Valia walked away with a new title whispered across the pack: the Sleepless Talent of Destruction.

After that, no one touched her game again. They just trained harder, failed louder, and learned faster.  

That evening, a voice echoed through the camp.

“Everyone, gather in the hall. A new prophecy will be read.” the announcement caused a stir.

It had been years since the Seer had spoken.

Prophecies guided the pack’s wars and unions. Each one shaped their fate.

Dessy Trail, the pack’s Seer and one of Ligon’s oldest friends, stood in the center of the grand hall, her pale eyes clouded and focused.

When she spoke, the air itself shivered.

Then came the prophecy like poison.

“The rage of the green serpentine will scourge the limbs of her own. 

Fire will feast on her kin, and blood will mark her path. 

A savior and a doom.”

The words slithered like venom through the crowd. Fear glazed the streets as they glanced at Valia in horror. 

Some took it as warning. Some as damnation. Few saw the double edge; that she could be their salvation instead of their doom.

Most only saw her as a threat.

Valia heard it whispered when she passed. Felt it in the way warriors avoided her in training circles now, how old allies now placed hands protectively over their pups when she entered the cavern halls.

And though her pride burned, she did not bow. She was dragon. To cower was to admit weakness, and she had lived too long clawing against exile to bend now.

But when Ligon summoned her to his chamber that night, she knew confrontation was inevitable.

The Alpha’s quarters were large. Part fortress, part cathedral.

Black obsidian veins ran through the walls, catching the light from hundreds of floating shards that burned with an inner glow. They pulsed like trapped starlight, bathing everything in a surreal sheen of silver and green.

Polished stone floors reflected their light, and carved metal wolves guarded the corners, their eyes jeweled with emerald flame.

This was the first time he summoned her to his house, he always called her to the halls to distribute duties. 

 He stood with his back to her when she entered, shoulders broad, jaw clenched.

“You’ve made my pack restless,” he said, voice low, even. “They look at you and see the blade that’ll slit their throats. Every hour, another petition for your exile lands on my desk.”

Valia crossed her arms, chin tilting high. “Then they are fools. Prophecies are riddles. They can wound or protect, depends on who wields them. I’d suggest they stop gnawing on their tails and pick the better meaning. Do you honestly want to lose your finest warrior to wrong speculations?”

His head snapped toward her, green eyes sharp as blades. “And if there is no better meaning? What if the Seer saw truth. That the fire inside you will devour us all?”

Heat prickled at her spine. Anger, swift and savage. “I never said she lied. Seriously. Is that what you think of me? That I am one spark away from betraying the only home I’ve ever known?”

“I think,” Ligon said, stepping closer, “that power like yours demands caution, you barely know it's depths. Until I know your loyalty, I can’t trust it.”

Her lips curled into a dangerous sneer. “You’ve had five years to learn where it lies, Alpha. If I wanted you dead, you’d be ash already.”

That struck. His jaw tightened, his chest rising. He loomed over her now, six-foot-five of carved muscle and alpha pheromones, his vetiver scent rolling heavy in the room—dark earth, wood, and the faint sharpness of smoke.

Valia should have stepped back. Instead, she stepped closer.

The air crackled. Their words became flame and tinder. His shadow swallowed her as his voice dropped to a growl.

“You forget yourself,” he bit out, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble. “You live by my mercy, Valia. This pack shelters you because I allow it.”

“And you forget yours,” she hissed, her eyes flaring ocean-bright, scales glimmering faintly at her throat. “You may be Alpha, but I am no wolf to kneel when barked at.”

Their breaths collided. Silence, sharp and suffocating, filled the chamber.

Then, without warning, he slammed his palm against the wall beside her head, trapping her between stone and muscle. His chest brushed hers, heat burning through every inch of space that dared exist between them.

“You test me,” he murmured, voice like thunder under velvet.

“A pleasure I delight in,” she breathed, her lips inches from his. “Someone has to remind the Alpha he’s not untouchable.”

His restraint shattered.

His mouth crashed against hers in a kiss that was no kiss at all but war, a clash of dominance and hunger. Teeth grazed lips, tongues met like blades. She shoved against his chest, not to push him away but to drag him closer, nails biting through fabric.

He groaned, low, guttural, the sound of a man starved too long and pinned her harder against the wall. His hand gripped her hip, his left leg slid between her thighs as he rubbed against her.

Valia’s body trembled, not from fear but from the storm surging inside her. Her dragon side roared to claim, to burn, to consume. Lightning crackled at her fingertips, licking harmlessly against his skin.

When he finally tore his lips from hers, both were gasping, eyes wild, chests heaving.

“This,” Ligon rasped, forehead pressed to hers, “is why you’re dangerous.”

She wanted to smirk but all she could manage was a drowsy gaze. “Or why you are.”

The chamber was thick with the scent of them. Wolf pheromones, humming to claim. Dragon heat, liquefying their desires. The wild storm of something neither could deny much longer.

Attraction. 

This step had blurred a line that tapered into an unknown future. 

They turned from each other, in a bid to dampen the flames. Neither, expecting the pull of fate that day.