Chosen by the Beasts, Claimed by the Dragon-Chapter 25: Adoration

— ASHEN —

Zoryn disappeared after the tournament last night, before I had the chance to tell her how impressive she was. She fights like someone who trusts herself.

It’s rare, dangerous, and most importantly, admirable.

Beyond her being sweet-smelling, it’s no wonder everyone’s drawn to her.

Sadly, there are now only a couple of hours before the final match between her and Riven starts, and I still haven’t seen her anywhere.

Shit, man. I really want to wish her luck before the match.

I run a hand through my fluffy mop of hair and sigh.

I feel pretty bad about how much I pissed her off the day before yesterday, and I don’t know how to fix it. I really didn’t mean to offend her—I was taught from when I was a pup that the few women we have should be protected, that’s all.

Also, she’s like, really fucking beautiful, and it makes me feel some kind of way. It makes me act stupid, and now she thinks Riven, of all people, is cooler than me.

I hate my life.

"Uncle Ash!"

A small voice drags me out of my pathetic reverie. I glance back to see one of the kids, Reele from my pack, running toward me. He just turned six a few days before the festival, so he was finally old enough to come. They don’t allow pups younger than him to attend since it’s a little hectic and dangerous.

"What’s up, bud?" I ask, unable to hide a soft smile as the rascal approaches me. "You’re up early."

"Can you teach Tenka and me how to fight again when we get home? That lady was so awesome yesterday, and I wanna fight like her someday," he says excitedly, his mess of red hair falling into his eyes.

I chuckle, "Yeah, we can spar a little. Your brother’s probably sad he’s missing out, so we’ll have to make it up to him."

"Yeah, he hasn’t been feeling good lately..." Reele pouts a little, but beams at me after a moment, "We can show him how awesome it was, though! He can come with us next time."

I smile softly, "Of course, little man. We’ll be home in a few days, and we can show him what you learned here, eh?"

Reele nods excitedly, "Yeah! Yeah! It’ll be so cool. Also, I learned how to dance yesterday, watch this."

The kid starts to flail wildly to some imaginary rhythm—he looks ridiculous, but he’s smiling so excitedly, I can’t help but clap along. I’m really proud of him. I think he’s going to grow into a strong warrior someday, and I’m looking forward to training him.

His littermate, Tenka, is unfortunately a very sickly child. He can’t leave home very often, and spends most of his days with the pack moms and healers—he has a rare disease that we haven’t been able to find a cure for, yet, and the survival rate is very low, so every day is a gift.

I sigh, my heart growing heavier when I think of him. I wish I knew more about medicine; I was kind of hoping I could connect with healers from other tribes while I was here to see if they knew any remedies, but I’ve been so busy I haven’t had the chance yet.

Also, a lot of the talented healers are serpents, which are impossible to fucking talk to half the time. They’re all so condescending... not as bad as Sylas, but close.

"Reele! Let’s get dressed!"

One of the moms calls for him, making him stop in his tracks. He looks at me apologetically, "I’ll see you later, uncle!"

"See ya," I wave, watching with a soft smile as he runs back toward our pack’s section of the lodgings.

After he disappears behind another tent, I stay there a moment longer, staring at the empty space he left behind.

...Then I turn toward the healer tents.

I was planning on watching the early matches. Wanted to see how the finalists warmed up, wanted to get my head in the game before Zoryn fought—but Tenka’s face won’t leave my mind.

I sigh and adjust the strap on my bracer.

"Later," I mutter to myself. "Fights can wait."

If there’s even a chance someone here knows something we don’t, I have to try.

——

— RIVEN —

I wake before the sun crests the ridge, already irritated.

Not because I slept poorly, or because I’m nervous—because I lost yesterday. I won my matches, but what I wanted most slipped through my fingers.

Her attention.

I sit up on the low stone bench outside my lodging and roll my shoulders, listening to the distant sounds of the valley waking. Footsteps. Metal clinking. There’s someone in the next lodgings over, laughing way too loudly for this hour. The Moonfall Gathering never really sleeps, it just... changes gears.

I breathe in slowly through my nose, letting the familiar weight of my body settle back into place.

I’m not angry.

If I were angry, I’d be reckless. I’d be sloppy in the ring later—and I refuse to give Zoryn an easy win. The thought of her name pulls a sharp, amused exhale from my chest.

Gods, she’s infuriating.

Not because she’s strong—that part I respect.

Not because she’s beautiful. That’s obvious, and I’m not a fool who pretends otherwise.

It’s because she doesn’t care that people are watching her.

She didn’t shrink or soften at all yesterday. She didn’t suddenly become polite just because everyone decided she was something to be wanted instead of someone to be wary of.

She punched a wolf in the jaw and asked for more food.

I grin despite myself. That takes spine.

Most people like power when it’s flattering. Very few like it when it’s inconvenient.

I lean forward, resting my forearms on my thighs, gold rings catching the early light. Somewhere across the grounds, I can already hear the low hum of the arena being prepared. Raking the sands, checking the wards, removing bloodstains...

I think of Ashen, and my mouth twists.

The wolf’s heart is in the right place. Too much so, honestly. He stays guarded, like everything precious will break the moment he looks away. It makes him predictable. Makes him loud when he should be quiet.

We’re around the same age and have had run-ins with each other since we were kids. We’ve fought each other, but we’ve also fought side by side in some team sports a few times. Honestly, I don’t dislike him as a person, but we’re nothing alike, and we get on each other’s nerves.

Ashen is softer than he looks, and he wants permission to exist in her space... but I don’t want Zoryn to choose me because I hovered or pestered her. I want her to look at me after the fight and know, without doubt, that I earned her respect the only way she values it—by meeting her on the sand.

A couple of younger lions pass by, nodding respectfully. One of them opens his mouth like he’s about to say something stupid, then thinks better of it and keeps walking.

Good instincts. He’ll live longer that way.

I stand and stretch, muscles pulling easily. My body feels perfectly warmed up, and I’m hungry—not for food, or for her. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

I’m starving for a good match. I want to stand across from her and make her bare her teeth.

If she beats me, I’ll bow publicly and without shame. If I beat her—

I snort.

No. Let’s not lie to ourselves this early in the morning.

She’s already beaten men twice my size—and ones smarter than me, if I’m honest.

Yet, the idea doesn’t frustrate me. It excites me.

I head toward the training ring and catch sight of Daeleon in the distance, already awake, watching everything like the world is a problem waiting to happen.

The dragon’s gaze flicks to me for half a second.

I incline my head.

He doesn’t return it—but he doesn’t glare either.

Progress.

I don’t fear Daeleon. Honestly, I understand him—he wants his child safe. I also want her unbroken, because she’s the first worthy competitor I’ve found.

I test my grip, flex my claws, then stop when I notice something that makes me pause.

Zoryn.

She’s across the grounds, laughing with her bear friend, shoulders loose, posture easy. She looks... steady and grounded, like someone who slept well and is ready for a fight. I squint a little, it sorta looks like she has something on her neck? Was there always a tattoo there?

Huh. She’s a bit too far for me to see properly, so I’ll just have to see her later.

I turn away, letting the anticipation coil low in my gut. When the crowd roars later, when the sun is high, and the sand is hot, and the air tastes like iron and sweat.

That’s when I’ll look at her.

Whether she wins or I triumph, she’ll know exactly who I am.

A challenger.

A competitor that she never has to look down on—and a lion strong enough she could rely on if she needed someone.