Chosen by the Beasts, Claimed by the Dragon-Chapter 24: Final preparations

— ZORYN —

I’m standing barefoot on warm stone, the ground etched with ancient lines that glow faintly beneath my feet. The air smells like smoke, sun-warmed metal, and desert roses.

I know this place.

I don’t remember ever being here, but my body does.

Above me, the sky isn’t a sky at all—it’s a vast, living tapestry. Constellations shift like slow-moving waves in the ocean, rearranging themselves into shape after shape like they can’t decide what they want to be.

At the center of the stone beneath me, a massive sigil burns into view.

A dragon’s mark.

The lines spread outward, branching and intertwining with other symbols. The shapes are all different, emanating entirely separate energies... familiar energies.

I step back instinctively, heart hammering. I’m not sure I understand what this means, but there’s something about it that’s weighing on my chest.

"I don’t..." I mutter.

The stone answers me.

A presence presses in from all sides, ancient and amused, like something that has been waiting far longer than I’ve been alive.

"You were never meant to stand alone."

The voice doesn’t come from above or below me; it comes from inside me.

When I turn around, I see six figures standing together. I can’t see their faces, at least not clearly.

They’re silhouettes, each wreathed in its own essence.

Fire and wings.

Golden sun.

Claws, teeth... wild hunger.

Feathers and quiet, steady light.

Scales that shimmer like oil on water, beautiful and dangerous.

They don’t touch me, but they don’t need to. Their attention alone is enough to make my skin prickle.

I feel... seen.

Chosen.

And strangely, not afraid.

"You’re wrong," I say, my voice echoing oddly. "I didn’t ask for this."

I don’t enjoy being told what to do, I never have, and I never will—I won’t take prophetic dreams lying down.

The presence hums, almost laughing.

"You did not ask for your fire, either."

The ground beneath my feet warms further, the sigil flaring brighter. I look down—and see that there’s a warm light emanating from my chest, pulsating in time with my heartbeat.

Then I notice something else.

Threads.

Faint, luminous lines stretch from the sigil into the darkness, each one pulling toward a different silhouette.

One burns violet-hot.

Another glows gold.

Another coils patiently, waiting.

I reach for one without thinking, but the moment my fingers brush it, the world tilts.

I see flashes—not memories, not quite visions.

Hands bracing me before a fall.

Laughter in the aftermath of battle.

Quiet moments by firelight.

Jealous glares. Smug smiles. Shared blood. Shared warmth.

I sense strong connections and... multiplicity.

I jerk my hand back, breathing hard.

"This is insane," I whisper.

The presence presses closer, but it feels gentler... almost protective in nature.

"You are not a prize... You are a convergence."

The silhouettes shift, some stepping closer, others holding back, but none of them force their way in—and none of them leave.

The threads pulse again, brighter this time, weaving together above the sigil until they form something new. I have to squint a little to see through the brightness, but after a moment, I can finally make out a shape.

A crown.

As I stare at it, my bones start to heat up. Unfamiliar power and essence are growing in my chest...

I realize, distantly, that I’m smiling.

"I’m still me," I say stubbornly. "And I get to do what I want."

The presence hums approval.

"Exactly."

The world begins to dissolve like sand between my fingers, and I watch everything disappear in front of me. As everything fades, I feel warmth at my side; it’s a familiar, steady anchor that is keeping me grounded.

I wake with my heart racing, breath shallow, Ren’s arm warm and solid around me.

"You okay?" He asks tiredly, his voice gravelly. His eyes are still closed, and he doesn’t lift his arm.

I blink the sleep from my eyes, "What time is it?"

"Around five," he answers instantly.

"...You just know that? Without looking?" I ask incredulously. "We can’t even see the sun in here, so how could you know?"

"I haven’t slept," Ren yawns. "I wanted to make sure you weren’t late, so I stayed up."

"I... really?"

Ren nods, "Mn. You have three more hours before you have to be at the arena. Are there any preparations you have to do?"

I take in a breath and think for a moment, "Hmm... let’s bathe."

"Let’s?" He echoes. "You want me to come?"

I squint at him like he just asked something deeply strange. "Yeah? Someone’s gotta scrub my back."

His eyes snap open instantly. "Oh."

That single syllable contains a lot.

I roll onto my side to face him, propping my head up on my hand. His hair is loose, falling into his face in soft, dark waves, and for once, he doesn’t look intimidating or mysterious—just tired. Earnestly tired.

"You look like you’re overthinking this," I say dryly.

"I—" He hesitates. "...I don’t want to overstep."

"That’s new," I snort. "You literally marked me yesterday."

His mouth twitches despite himself. "That was an emergency."

"This is, like, the biggest tournament in the beastworld," I reply. "Also kind of an emergency."

That seems to settle something in him. Ren exhales slowly, then nods once. "Alright."

We don’t talk much as we get up and dress. The air between us is quiet, but not awkward—more like we’re both easing into the idea that this is a thing now. Not everything, but something.

The bathing pools are tucked into a natural hollow at the edge of the valley, shielded by stone and tall reeds. Steam rises lazily from the surface, warmed by geothermal vents and faint residual magic. At this hour, it’s nearly empty—just us and the sound of water lapping against stone.

I strip without ceremony, stretching my arms over my head as I step into the pool. The warmth sinks into my muscles immediately, and I sigh in relief.

"Oh yeah," I mutter. "That’s the good stuff."

Ren hesitates at the edge, then follows suit, wading in carefully as if the water might bite him.

He sits across from me, shoulders submerged, eyes flicking to the faint bruises along my arms and ribs—the souvenirs from yesterday’s matches.

"You’re sore," he notes quietly.

"Absolutely," I shrug. "Means I fought right."

He studies me for a moment, then reaches out, hesitating just long enough to ask without words.

I nod.

His hands are warm as he works the tension from my shoulders, working carefully yet firmly. His touch isn’t urgent or indulgent, just... attentive. Which is a trait I seem to be noticing him having a lot.

"You don’t fight like the others," he says after a while.

I snort. "Yeah, I’ve heard."

"They try to dominate," he continues. "You... wait. You let them reveal themselves."

It’s a similar conversation to the one I had with Riven and Ashen yesterday, which makes me smirk. It feels pretty good when everyone’s gassing you up all the time—I think I can get used to this whole ’being a woman’ thing.

"Why rush?" I say. "People screw up on their own if you give them enough rope."

A quiet huff of laughter escapes him. "You’re terrifying."

"Thank you," I turn partway and stick my tongue out at him.

We sit like that for a while, steam curling around us, the world distant and muted. No expectations. No pressure. Just shared warmth and quiet preparation.

Eventually, I straighten and splash water on my face. "Alright. Enough soaking. I gotta braid my hair and stretch."

Ren nods immediately, rising from the pool. "I’ll help however you need."

I pause, glancing at him over my shoulder. "You don’t have to."

"I know," he says simply. "I want to."

That... lands harder than I expect. Why am I feeling all fluttery over something stupid like this? The others and I in the bear clan always helped each other out in this way. It’s nothing special.

I clear my throat. "Then you can hold my wraps while I rebind my wrists."

Ren nods silently and does as I ask, and by the time we’re dressed again, the sky is beginning to lighten at the edges—dawn creeping in slow and inevitable.

I roll my shoulders, feeling centered. Ready.

Ren watches me for a moment, then says quietly, "Win."

I grin. "Obviously." I glance at him from the corner of my eye, "So... will you teleport us back?"

"I dunno... It’s against the rules, Zoryn," he teases.

I roll my eyes, "If you want to walk all that way, then I guess we can—but if I’m late, I’ll take out my anger on you instead of Riven."

"I wouldn’t wish that on anyone," he shudders exaggeratedly. "Alright, I’ll try not to get us caught."

I step closer to him and wrap an arm around his waist, "Let’s fucking go, mate of mine."

Ren scoffs, but he mutters a spell beneath his breath, and the weird sensation of being tugged through space overtakes us.