Page 79 of Season of Naga: Volume 2
"If I remain behind these walls while my warriors die, what kind of Crown am I?" Varok challenges, heat literally radiating from his scales now as his emotion feeds his element. "I am not just your Sovereign. I am the fire element incarnate, the first awakened of the Threadborn Prophecy. My place is at the front, where my power can turn the tide."
"And if you fall, the naga lose their ruler,” I argue. "The risk outweighs any tactical advantage."
“And another in the line of succession will take my place.” Varok's tail lashes once against the stone floor, the sharp crack silencing further protest. "I did not call you here to debate my decision, but to inform you of your roles within it." His fiery gazesweeps between us. "Traven will coordinate our defensive line and the launching of explosives.”
He turns those burning eyes to me, and I feel the weight of his next words before they come. "You, Lurok, will fight at my side. Your elemental power will complement mine."
My jaw clenches so hard I fear my fangs might crack. "Sovereign?—"
"This is not a request," Varok cuts me off, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that brooks no argument. "This is the command of your Crown. Whether you wish to acknowledge what you are or not, the air answers your call. And we need every advantage if we are to survive this day."
I want to refuse. Want to remind him that every time I use the element, the prophecy advances another notch toward whatever cataclysm awaits our kind. But the truth burns in his eyes. Without both our powers, the naga face annihilation not in some distant prophesied future, but today, when Halvane's forces launch their attack.
"As you command, Sovereign Flame," I finally say, the words fall from my lips like venom, burning as they pass.
Varok nods once, accepting my reluctant agreement. "We move in one hour. Prepare yourselves." His gaze lifts to include both Traven and me. "Today we fight not just for Vessan-Kar, but for the future of our kind.”
The truth of his words settles over the chamber like a physical weight. Whatever doom I fear from the prophecy's fulfillment, the immediate threat gathering at our borders must be eliminated first.
Traven glides from the chamber to begin preparations, the stone door flowing closed behind his massive form. Alone with Varok, I feel the weight of the Sovereign's fiery gaze. He remains coiled before the map table, silent and watchful. My scales prickle with warning as I draw myself up to full height, bracingfor the confrontation I sense coming. Around us, the air currents shift and eddy in response to my unease.
"I sense your reluctance, but you know what I require of you," Varok says, his voice unnervingly calm for a male preparing to lead his people into battle against overwhelming odds. "Not just your blade or your strategic mind, but the element you now wield.”
My jaw tightens, molars grinding against each other. "You ask me to accelerate our destruction."
"I ask you to prevent it," he counters, tail sweeping a slow arc across the stone floor. "Three hundred human soldiers with weapons designed specifically to end us. The Harbinger himself is leading them. Without your element, many more naga will die before the sun sets."
"And with it, we push the prophecy forward another notch," I hiss. "Each element that awakens brings us closer to the Season of Naga and whatever cataclysm awaits."
Varok's scales flush hot with sudden anger. "Your interpretation of the prophecy is wrong," he hisses. "You twist ancient words to justify your fear.”
“The words need no twisting," I retort. "Leira is an omen of corruption. As thechild of flesh, she is a human intruder who will poison our bloodlines." I slam my fist against the stone table, my voice rising as I recite, "She weaves the path the war shall pawn.The human presence within Vessen-Kar will only continue the conflict, not end it!"
Varok's scales ripple with molten light beneath the surface, his massive form tensing as he leans forward. "You are as wrong as you are foolish, Lurok," he growls, each word deliberate and dangerously soft. "And you tread dangerously close to treason."
"Four shall wake when one is crowned," I spit through clenched fangs. "You, Varok, the Sovereign Flame foretold, are the first of us. Fire, air, earth, and water shall wake as acatastrophic elemental upheaval. How can you not see we are the first two who will usher in the apocalypse?"
"You sound more and more like the TrueCoil with every word you spew," Varok snarls as flames erupt from beneath his scaled torso, licking up his sides in angry ribbons. "I am as surprised as Salvor you did not join them when they held you captive."
“One bond to end what fire beganis not peace, Varok, but the annihilation of our species.” I slam my tail against the stone floor, the crack echoing through the chamber. “And the mingling of your blood with Leira’s did not heal the conflict between our species. It ripped it wider, creating wounds that bleed fresh enemies from within.”
Varok's pupils contract to burning slits. "One more vile word about my bloodmate and I will roast you where you coil," he growls, baring his fangs as scales along his neck flare outward in threat display.
As my anger grows, so does my power, until I have created a spinning vortex around me.
"Come at me, serpent!" I rear up and spread my arms wide. "Let us see you try."
Fire erupts along Varok’s forearms in spiraling ribbons of crimson and gold, the heat so intense it distorts the air between us. My own element responds without conscious thought. The wind currents coalesce around my coils, whipping faster until the vortex screams with rising pressure. The stone floor beneath us groans as our powers clash.
"Enough!" Traven shouts from the open doorway, his voice cutting through the elemental chaos between us. "I knew I should not have left the two of you alone. Put that energy into fighting the humans. You can destroy each other later."
The wind falters around me as my concentration breaks. I glance toward Traven's voice, my anger momentarily redirected, and that is when I see her.
Serin stands behind him in the throne room, her small form half-hidden by Traven's massive bulk. Her face is an angry mask, hazel eyes blazing with a fury that rivals the elements we just wielded. The guards flanking her wear expressions of alarm, hands already on their blades, clearly uncertain whether to remove her from danger or remain in place.
“So, that is how you see my species?” she accuses with a stricken glare. “As a plague to be condemned.”
The cyclone dies around me like a strangled beast, the air collapsing into heavy silence, and it stills so completely that it is as if it never moved at all.
