Check out my books on Kindle.
Zigarete's vision blurred as she lay sprawled on the cold, hard floor of the decimated Resistance compound. Each ragged breath she managed to draw felt like swallowing shards of ice, the searing pain in her side a stark reminder of the treachery she had suffered.
'I'll kill him…' Zigarete thought, her teeth clenched against the chill seeping into her bones as her body started to lose its heat. She closed her eyes, surrendering to the creeping darkness that promised sweet oblivion.
When consciousness returned to her, it was unwelcomed. Zigarete's eyelids fluttered open, and she braced herself for the agony that consciousness, and her injuries would bring. But to her astonishment, the gaping wound that had marked her end was gone. A red scar and a dull ache left in it's wake.
Slowly Zigarete propped herself up on her elbows, her silver eyes scanning the desolate surroundings. This was an unfamiliar place: cavernous, dark and dry. Where was she?
It was then that she saw him. Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩~𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢~𝔫𝔢𝔱
The Drakken, the red scaled beast that Zigarete had encountered underneath Sidim was crouched beside her, his red scales catching the dim light that filtered from a far off point. His reptilian eyes held a strange sort of warmth as he regarded her with an almost tender expression.
Recognition dawned upon Zigarete. She had heard once from her former mentor Aurra that the Drakken's saliva had healing properties. It is why they were almost hunted to extinction. Memories of their previous encounter flooded back to her; the raw power that had coursed through her veins as he had taken her with such primal ferocity. It was a memory that she had tried to suppress, to attribute to the heat of battle and the peculiarities of this savage world. But now, as she lay recovering from what should have been a fatal wound, she could not deny the connection that she shared with this beast.
In the dimly lit cavern, the Drakken maintained his vigil over Zigarete, the beast carefully applied his saliva to the Grand Inquisitor's former wound, each application bringing her warmth and further accelerating the healing process. The dull ache fading more and more into memory. Yet, despite the comforting heat that now suffused her, a cold fury was brewing within her heart.
She though back to the Tracker, to his betrayal, the searing pain of the spear he pressed through her flesh, the cold stone she collapsed onto, her certain death. But here she was, alive, thanks to this creature that should have been her enemy, yet seemed to be her unlikely saviour.
She turned her gaze to the Drakken, locking eyes with the beast. There was an understanding there, a silent acknowledgment of a debt that she now owed him. Zigarete, ever the proud and defiant leader, found herself grappling with the implications of such a debt. She had always been the one to protect others, to uphold the laws of the Empire, to hunt and capture those who dared to wield sorcery. Now, she was the one in need of saving, and it was this creature, this Drakken, that had extended his clawed hand to her in her hour of need. She reached out and rested her hand on the Drakken's face.
"Thank you." She whispered.
Zigarete's thoughts turned to vengeance. The Tracker's betrayal was a wound far deeper than any physical injury he had inflicted. She vowed that she would see the Tracker pay for his treachery. She would hunt him down, just as she had hunted so many sorcerers before. This time, however, it was personal; this time, it was for her own honour.
For now, though, she was forced to bide her time, to regain her strength and allow her body to heal. The Drakken's continued care was both a balm and a reminder of her vulnerability. As she lay in the dark, with only the rhythmic breathing of the beast beside her, Zigarete silently plotted her revenge.
She was Zigarete Silverspear, the Grand Inquisitor, and her will was as unbreakable as the finest steel forged by the Empire's blacksmiths. No matter how long it took, she would reclaim her position and her pride. The Tracker, and all who had underestimated her, would soon learn the folly of their actions. But for now, she rested, gathered her strength, and waited for the moment when she could emerge from the shadows.