12. Terra
TWELVE
TERRA
Everyone made sacrifices for survival—sometimes it was dignity, sometimes it was trust. I wasn't sure which I was losing more of lately. The echo of my team's words from earlier still rang in my ears, sharp as a combat knife.
It didn’t matter that I understood their frustrations or that some part of me even agreed with them. Hearing the doubt in their voices— their doubt in me —was like having skin carved away piece by piece.
Could I lead when my own team barely trusted me anymore?
My fingers traced the leather cords of my vambrace absently as I waited in Darrokar’s chambers, the faint orange glow of heat crystals reflecting off the volcanic glass walls. The space felt unbearably stifling today, every minute a reminder that I had a million unanswered questions and no sense of where to even begin.
The groan of the chamber doors sliding open made me tense, though the familiar scent that accompanied it eased some of the tautness from my shoulders. Darrokar strode in like a storm contained, wings folding neatly behind him.
“ Luvae, ” he greeted, his deep voice wrapping around me in a comfort it felt almost wrong to accept.
“Darrokar,” I replied, straightening where I stood.
I had to start standing up for my people, and that was going to start now. But before I could say anything, he stopped in front of me, holding out a bundle wrapped in dark material. “For you,” he said simply.
I blinked, then took it from him carefully. It was heavier than I expected, the texture pliable but sturdy beneath my fingers. A closer look revealed that it wasn’t just any material—they were Drakarn warrior leathers. But there were no slits for wings in the back. These were custom.
For a human.
“For me?” I asked, even though the evidence was staring me in the face. The design wasn’t purely Drakarn; it had elements of my Earth uniform woven through it—the reinforced plates, the utilitarian cut meant for ease of motion. More importantly, it was unmistakably mine, from the precise tailoring to the weight beneath the shoulder straps.
Darrokar stepped closer, his golden eyes shimmering. “You cannot fight as one of us if you are not dressed as one of us. Does it not please you?”
I ran my fingers over the intricate detailing along the neckline. “I—no, I mean yes.” I shook my head, struggling to find the words. Whatever confidence I’d bolstered before his arrival was unraveling rapidly under his focused attention. “It’s perfect.”
And nothing I expected.
Before I could muster more than that, Darrokar’s claws brushed my hand. It wasn’t a gesture I would’ve noticed before meeting him, but now I couldn’t miss it—not the faint scrape of his black scales against my skin, nor the way his touch sent an illicit ripple of something unbearably warm up my arm.
“Let me help you,” he said, his voice quieter now, more intimate.
It wasn’t a question; it wasn’t entirely an order either. My throat tightened as I nodded .
He lifted the armored chest plate, stepping in closer to secure it over my torso. I could feel the heat of him radiating outward even before his claws brushed my sides, buckling a strap here, adjusting a fastening there. There was nothing casual about his movements—they were deliberate and precise.
“You were unhappy when you returned today,” he murmured, resting his hands against my shoulders as he adjusted the pauldrons.
I tensed, tilting my head up at him. “How do you?—?”
His golden eyes flashed with that knowing look that drove me insane, a faint glimmer of amusement curling at the edge of his mouth. His claws ghosted along my collarbone as he stepped back, admiring his handiwork like a craftsman inspecting their masterpiece. “ Luvae, I see too much to remain ignorant, even when you keep it silent.”
“They need better quarters.” My voice was sharper than I intended, but I was too raw to smooth it out.
He heard what I wasn't saying. “Whatever mistrust your people hold, it will not endure.”
I stared at him, crossing my arms protectively over the newly donned armor. His unwavering confidence—his ability to just decide something would be fixed—was still something I couldn’t entirely reconcile. “They've been locked up for weeks while I've?—”
He arched an obsidian brow at that, the smirk softening into something irritatingly tender. “Shall I invite them all here into our bed?”
Our bed.
Aliens didn't seem to exactly be the type for a define the relationship talk, but everything Darrokar did, everything he said, let me know that this thing between us wasn't just some passing fascination with the new species in town.
He wanted to keep me.
Without waiting for my response, he moved toward the chamber’s exit, inclining his head for me to follow. Despite my lingering doubts, it didn’t feel like a request.
The training grounds were blisteringly alive when we arrived, a chaotic melee of roaring warriors, swiping claws, and clashing lavaforged blades.
Darrokar’s presence silenced the chaos almost immediately, his warriors bowing their heads briefly in acknowledgment before shifting focus to me.
I could feel their judgment rippling across the space, tinged with curiosity, disdain, and something else I couldn’t name.
I stepped closer to Darrokar’s side instinctively, though I regretted letting that self-consciousness fear show a second later. He noticed, of course—his sharp gaze had an infuriating ability to catch things I barely let myself register.
“This is your chance,” he said, his voice quiet but firm, pitched low enough for only me to hear. “Do not shy away. Strength does not require familiar words.”
Easy for him to say—he had wings, claws, and all the fiery charisma of a walking inferno. I had … stubbornness and a never-ending list of self-doubts.
“Choose your opponent,” he said aloud, this time ensuring every Drakarn present could hear.
The weight of hundreds of eyes turned to me immediately, an almost physical force. I swallowed hard, my heart hammering against the new armor like it, too, didn’t trust its protection.
“Her,” I said finally, pointing toward a red-scaled, towering warrior standing near the edge of the circle. She was nearly twice my size, her well-toned muscles betraying years of combat experience. If I was going to do this—if I had to prove anything—it wouldn’t be by taking the easy route.
The arena fell dead silent as we stepped into one of the designated rings. My opponent didn’t bother with introductions or a nod—she simply snarled, wings flaring wide as her talons flexed against the blackened stone.
I forced the nerves out of my body, focusing instead on the steadiness of my stance. I wasn’t there to die—I was there to learn.
The first blow came swiftly, a wide arc of claws that had more force than calculation behind it. I ducked, twisting my body sharply enough that her wing flap almost pulled me off-balance. Almost.
She didn’t give me the chance to recover, lunging forward before I could right myself. Her claws raked downward, and I barely avoided taking the full brunt by pivoting my weight and rolling to the side. The ground beneath my palm burned—a cruel reminder that this wasn’t just training. This was the proving ground, and failure wasn’t just embarrassing—it was dangerous.
Darrokar stood at the edge of the ring, his presence a dark shadow that drew my awareness despite the chaos of the fight. I didn’t need to look to know his eyes were fixed on me, golden and unreadable. Was he watching to see if I could keep up or to see how quickly I’d fall?
Either way, my body moved differently knowing he was there—more desperate to succeed, even as my muscles trembled with the effort.
The warrior snarled again, her claws slashing out at me in a series of calculated strikes, each one driving me back toward the edge of the ring. My feet scrambled against the blackened stone as I blocked her blows with the training blade Darrokar had handed me moments earlier—a blade that suddenly felt absurdly small in my grip.
She wasn’t just using brute force anymore; she was toying with me, her attacks designed to keep me defensive and off-balance. I gritted my teeth, frustration simmering with every blow I barely deflected. My breathing was labored, sweat beading on my forehead despite the cool edge of the leathers.
“Is that all you've got, luvae ?” Darrokar’s voice sliced through the tension like the edge of a blade, seemingly mild but deceptively sharp.
I didn’t dare look at him, but I could feel the weight of his words. It wasn’t mockery—not entirely—but it was enough to provoke the anger simmering just beneath my skin to a boil.
Focusing on my opponent, I lunged forward, feinting to her right before pivoting on my heel and aiming low at her exposed flank. She moved faster than I anticipated—a flash of red scales and the sharp crack of claw against blade as she parried the strike and thrust her wings outward for an additional push. The force knocked me off-balance, and I stumbled backward, my back perilously close to the molten edge of the ring’s boundary.
The crowd of warriors surrounding the arena let out a low, collective rumble—an almost animalistic sound that made me shiver. I couldn’t tell if they were impressed or disappointed.
Get it together, Terra.
I swallowed hard and zoomed in on her next move. Her claws lashed out again, and this time, I dropped low before spinning behind her, raising the blade toward her exposed back.
The strike landed.
A shallow cut formed just above her hips—nothing debilitating, but enough to draw a sharp hiss of pain. She flared her wings again, spinning to face me with renewed anger, her stance widening as she prepared to attack.
But I had no intention of waiting.
Before she could regain the advantage, I surged forward, blade poised for another strike. I wasn’t foolish enough to think I could overpower her, so I put every ounce of focus into speed and precision, trying to anticipate her reactions.
“Enough. ”
Darrokar's voice reverberated across the arena, commanding immediate stillness.
My opponent straightened, casting a wary glance toward Darrokar before stepping back and lowering her wings in submission. I didn’t know if I imagined the faint smirk tugging at her lips or if it was genuine.
Darrokar strode into the ring with the ease of someone who had never doubted their place in it. His golden eyes met mine, scanning the dirt smeared along my jaw, the faint trembling of my hand where I clutched the hilt of the blade.
“You did not win,” he said evenly, his voice firm but lacking malice.
I lifted my chin, willing myself not to flinch beneath the weight of his gaze. “No, but I didn’t lose.”
His mouth quirked—the barest hint of something that might have been approval. “A draw is not a victory, luvae. But it is not a failure either.”
One of the warriors behind him chuckled—a low, rumbling sound full of amusement. My cheeks flushed, but Darrokar silenced them with a sharp glance. His authority over them was absolute, even when it appeared effortless.
“You rely too much on your human instincts,” he continued, stepping closer until the scent of smoke and molten stone curled between us. His wings cast a wide, imposing shadow that swallowed the flickering light of the arena’s veins. “Speed is not your only weapon, but neither can you abandon it entirely."
I gritted my teeth. I could feel my pride aching under the weight of his critique, but I nodded curtly. “Then teach me.”
The mutter of murmurs that rippled through the gathered warriors at my words was barely audible, but I caught it. Those closest to the ring exchanged glances, their pupils narrowing into slits, revealing too much interest in the exchange.
The air between us crackled, thick with implications neither of us fully wanted to voice.
Darrokar stepped closer again, his clawed hand reaching out to turn the hilt of the blade in my grasp just slightly. His touch wasn’t rough—more curious, as though he were examining a fragment of a puzzle. “You harbor a fire,” he murmured, his gaze slipping back up to meet mine. “But you suffocate it out of fear it will burn too brightly.”
“I don’t have the luxury,” I replied, the words leaving my mouth before I could stop them.
“Nor did I,” he said, so quietly it nearly went unheard over the faint hiss of molten stone .
It wasn’t the response I had expected, not from him. For just a moment, the walls that so often surrounded him cracked, and something raw and unguarded slipped through.
I should have stepped back—I should have said something, done something to break the spell that suddenly bound the air between us. But I didn’t.
Instead, I held his gaze. And something in me wondered if, maybe, the thing that bound us wasn’t a chain at all.
"Tomorrow," Darrokar said at last, his voice once again the commanding rumble I’d come to recognize. "You will return here. The training will be harder."
I straightened, forcing a smile to mask the exhaustion already settling over me. "I'd be disappointed if it wasn’t."
His lips curved just faintly. “Good.”